"It's ironic how in the minute you are scared that it will be too easy, it turns unbearably hard, and in response you wish it would be easy again, when you should have learned to be careful what you wish for in the first place.  It's ironic when you can't live with something, but you can't seem to live without it.  It's ironic when you spend so much time moving towards something that you should be running away from.  Life is like a box of chocolates, it will rot and grow worms inside if your not careful." 

- Nick Kline

  

It's moments like these where I want to get on a bus, car, plane, train, boat...

Without telling a soul, and seeing all of your sorry faces,
When you never see mine again.

Split-Screen Sadness - Revision.

Revision. 
See Also - Split-Screen Saddness (March 6th)
               - Who's Gonna Save My Soul Now? (April 28th)

"I can't wait to figure out what's wrong with me,

So I can say this is the way that I used to be"

I interpret this line differently tonight.  Of course, the original excerpt holds it's meaning, but I see it in a different light.  A different perspective.  I don't know if this sentence can even be true...I think of situations in my mind.  Situations of my own doing, situations that are ancient.  Well over a year, almost two.  Two wrongs most definitely do not make it alright, John...sorry, but you're wrong.  Two wrongs make it worse tonight.  Two wrongs make it even more unbearable.  Two wrongs bring the ceiling down on my own being.  One wrong was enough, but I suppose two is justification.  Could it ever be?  When something is the "way that I used to be" but I don't dare speak a word of it to anyone, because I feel like my own skin is still permanently stained?  Even with people whom it was directly involved with?  I don't dare speak of it.  Taboo.  You might as well tie a rope around your neck and jump from a bridge.  Don't make a sound.  Don't even hint that it existed.  There's no substitute for time, but is there a substitute for guilt?  Shame?  Pain?  Haunting?  Memories?  That for years to come I will be meticulously comparative and analytical?  Is there a substitute for that?  There should be.  Well we share the sadness.  This split screen sadness.  I figured I could use my age and stress as an excuse.  I was young and stupid.  But why does it still feel like it was yesterday?  Even when my actions were outdone ten fold?  Others mistakes make mine look like just another bump in the road.  But I still feel like it's a mountain.  But I suppose that's because I only speak for myself.  I am only accountable for me, and what I've done.  How do you deal with it?  I'd like to learn...desperately.  I guess I'll figure it out, like everything else in life.  I am my own author, reader, and critic.  I am my own artist, artwork, and fan.  I am my own victim, witness, and suspect.  I am my own arresting officer.  I am my own prison.  I am my own sinner, confessional, and forgiver.  I am still learning.  Maybe one day I'll figure this out.

Who's Gonna Save My Soul Now?

Gnarls Barkley - Who's Gonna Save My Soul

On game shows, some people will take the trip to France, 

but most will take the washer and dryer pair.  

When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?

When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.  

Nothing of me is original, 
I am the combined effort of everybody I've ever known.  

The one you love and the one who loves you,
Are never, ever the same person. 

And I'll let the wind carry my postcard off into the city.
This is my worst fears and my future, on this postcard.
An updraft carries it through the air.  
At this rate, we'll never get to the future.

-- Bubba-Joan/Brandy Alexander/Seth Thomas/Alfa Romeo/Chuck Palanuik

Give me remembrance.

Flash.

Give me dreams.

Flash.

Give me pity.

Flash.

Give me a chance...

Fade to black.

Wake Up Call -- Vent

Through the stress of this last week, fluctuation of my anticipated connections...to be satisfied or left waiting...regardless I suppose. I set myself up for it most of the time. It's the little stupid things sometimes, you know? Who parks in front of a fire hydrant? Who forgets their Social Security card when applying for a job? Who honestly gets used to seeing red negative signs? I guess I'd fit those categories, with a handful of others I'm sure. It is nice to get clarity from a stranger sometimes -- to remind you that you aren't that much of a dumbass when it comes to reality.  It's a nice feeling.  A feeling of subtle belonging.  Straight from a Chuck Palanuik story.  Completely and utterly abstract and twisted.  At times wondering, what is the point of this?  Then realizing at the end...it was never about finishing strong or climaxing at all, it was about the ride here.  Each and every little thing along the way that brought you a smile.  That's why the story is written.  Not like a strong ending isn't exciting though.  We all want to go out with a bang.  We all want the audience and to be praised.  However, you tend not to realize that things like panic are simply audience driven.  Who panics alone?  It's all one drama-jelly-doughnut filled cluster fuck of panic.  When you're 5 and smash your head into the table and fall on your bum, it's never a catastrophe until mom and dad run over.  Only then, do the tears flow.  I contemplate these words...these thoughts.  I wonder if I agree.  I've caught myself on more then one occasion alone, and in panic.  My tears have flowed in moments of complete isolation.  I suppose I am my own audience.  I make it interesting for myself, building my own little plot just to tell another story.  No one ran to the table to hold me.  Most of my life, I have learned to hug myself.  I cuddle with everything.  You ever stop to wonder if that is why some people like sleeping on couches?  Because it's up against you.  I snuggle with blanket, pillow, sheets, phone...myself.  I cling onto myself.  I am all that I really have.  I am the only one that I can really trust, right?

My grandma was rushed to the ER just recently.  She begged for an ambulance.  If you knew my grandma...this would trip you out.  Most stubborn woman on the planet.  I love her.  I'm too much like her.  This week has been a wake up call for me...too much has been happening that smashes me in the face and says, "Hello?  Dipshit?  You in there?  What are you thinking?".  But I blow it off.  I let the voices in my head talk to each other while I am their audience.  Panic is so much more with an audience... But I as much as I listen, I need to act.  I need to follow through.  I need to not get myself into things that I cannot handle.  I need to disengage slightly and let life carry me for a while, I am done carrying it on my back.  I am about to leave the country for a time.  So what can I possibly be worried about?  I can't wait to disappear.  Maybe this constant battle will seem more new and fresh upon my return.  Maybe I'll gain my second wind of motivation.  Ready to get stuff done.  I suppose time will only tell.  I do know one thing about myself.  One thing that I have always known.  I am a hopeless romantic.  I seek and long for an unheard of love.  It runs through my blood.  I want to find that girl that feels the same way.  I know she's looking for me too.  But sometimes I look too hard.  I don't want to find her yet anyway, it's too early.  So why do I persist to look?  Why do I persist to be drawn towards things that I know will just break me down harder then before?  I need to back off.  Of everything.  I need to let the wind carry me for a change.  Fifteen thousand miles.  Like a flight with no visa, first class with the seat back...I still see you.  I still feel you.  I always will.  So hear my words to you --

She's sun and rain, she's fire and ice.
A little crazy but it's nice.
And when she gets mad, you best leave her alone.
'Cause she'll rage just like a river.
Then she'll beg you to forgive her.
Oh, she's every woman that I've ever known.
She's so New York and then L.A.
And every town along the way.
And she's every place that I've never been.
She's makin' love on rainy nights.
She's a stroll through Christmas lights.

 And she's everything I want to do again.

She's anything but typical.

She's so unpredictable.

Oh but even at her worst she ain't that bad.

She's as real as real can be.

And she's every fantasy.

Lord she's every lover that I've ever had.

And she's every lover that I've never had.

Why do I feel this way?  Why does this hurt like this?  

Why do I want the last thing that I need?

Why do I need the last thing that I should want?

Why do I love something that will probably kill me?

Why can't I think clearly?

Why is this happening....

Come now...just let it go, let it fall down

Let it all flow like the water that's rushing in over your soul.

Until there is nothing left.  Won't you come to me and rest...

Ugh.

Put me to sleep evil angel.

Cookie Jar.

I've done it again.
Put my hand in the cookie jar when I knew I shouldn't have.
Nick, what are you thinking?

Some things are so addicting.  No...not addicting.  Just tempting.
  Some tastes linger on the lips longer than others.
Some feelings just pressure the heart more than it can handle.
Sometimes.
Ugh...
Decisions, decisions.

How do you make an indefinite or unsure decision?  I guess you can't.
You wait for an answer.  I guess that works.

I have all the time in the world.

Quite honestly though.
Maybe my summer jet-lag will bring clarity of everything.
I'm sure it will.
Los Angeles to Virginia to Oregon...
To Wisconsin to Las Vegas to China...
To Beijing to Shanghai to God only knows...
To the moon and back.
East coast - West coast
New York...LA...hey man...
You know it's all the same.
All the cities of the world...
Say a prayer for me.

Long distance travels always seem to bring some kind of clarity...
Don't they?
But I fear the misconception of clarity vs. distortion.
Should be fine... 
I know myself just fine.   
Everything is going to be alright.    

I just know it.
In August, I'll be financially stable for a moment.
Clueless on American soil.
Ready for school.  Ready for work.  Ready for life all over again.
Out of debt, full of optimism, running on empty, like always.
Ready to learn.  Ready to achieve.
Ready to move, location as well as mountains.
Ready to build an empire.

This is only the beginning.
Nick, what would your father say?  Don't sweat the small stuff.  
It's not worth my time and energy.
I have too little time and too much energy.
I won't let it waste away like a fool.
Not to mention...
Too much big stuff that deserves my focus.
That requires my focus and responsibility.
But those damn cookies...  It feels that they are biting me.
What irony.  What a catch-22.  They are delicious.
But they don't last.  Could they?  How could they...
Not like this they can't.  I guess we'll just have to find out.
I guess that works.   

I have all the time in the world.   

 Quite honestly though...   don't I?

What me?

Yes you..

Couldn't be...

Then who?

This Goes Out To The Rich & Poor...I Stand As A Broken Man

I have come to realize that I am highly misunderstood.  By everyone around me.  The people whom one grows to love and trust, and spend their precious time with...the ones one is most comfortable with.  Only a handful of people actually understand me.  Not even that many.  Maybe one.  Possibly two...but if their are that many than I am not aware of it yet.  Only one comes to mind.  I would like to find a friend, or grow with a friend to have a friendship where we really understand each other.  I've been given a gift of understanding.  It is no problem for me to understand people in a particular circumstance.  I understand smart decisions as well as the stupid.  Sometimes as humans, we do things for absolutely no apparent reason.  Some people can't wrap their head around that truth.  Not EVERYTHING is executed with reason, but every executable reaction is developed with reason.  It's a complex puzzle.  It kind of parallels with my writing.  I can guarantee that 90% of you readers have no fucking idea what I am writing about -- ever.  Re-read the last 40 blogs and TRY to develope a reason for everything that I am saying.  Maybe half of you will develope a reason for half of the blogs.  That's a big maybe.  That's the reason why I only have 6 followers, and not even all of them read my blogs.  I'd say 3 or 4 do.  And their are also the ones who just read and don't follow.  To you few...please...if you haven't already...tell me if you read, and tell me what you think.  It is truthfully one of the greatest compliments you can give me.  You will make my entire day.  Even the closest of my friends simply don't get me.  They think they do, and they can tell you truths about me, but they can't feel me.  They don't experience the way that I do.  People judge.  People form opinions, as well as myself.  But people aren't willing to reason and understand the way that I do.  Most people don't understand that they can talk to me about absolutely anything and don't have to worry about their judgement in my eyes...because most people don't realize that I've been through practically everything in one way or another.  If you object to this, I challenge you to challenge me.  But I am not perfect and I am not higher than another.  I am the man on the side.  I am the one with my back against the castle wall.  I observe.  I feel the emotions of others.  My blood runs with stimuli.  I am the one with more passion and more vision than the kings of this world.  I see too much and feel too strongly.  It is the most unhealthy vitamin.  Is there not a soul in the world that hears me?  There are so many actors and confused people...  This goes out to the rich and poor, I stand as a broken man.  I have a dream we'll get out this week.  So all the cities of the world say a prayer for me.