Friday, November 30, 2007

No One Likes Traveling

It was nearly seven-thirty and the plane would begin boarding in half an hour. Felice had been there since six-thirty. She didnt care; she liked to be early. She packed her bags five days in advance, and with no other preparations to be made, kept herself occupied for the remaining five days with her new-found hobby of reading.

Joan, a friend, had told Felice about a book club she had just joined to "try something new", and suggested that Felice join as well. Felice thought that taking up reading might be a good activity to pick up instead of sitting around channel surfing all day, but she didnt feel comfortable with joining a book club. She joked with Joan that she wasnt ready for that level of commitment yet, but the truth was that she just didnt want to feel like she was in a high school English class with a bunch of mopey, romantic middle-aged women. Instead, Felice offered to read the books that Joan and the book club were also reading.

The current selection, "Nicholas' Walk He Remembered", kept Felice company as she waited for her flight. She loved romantic stories, as long as there wasnt a love triangle, and this story seemed to be devoid of any triangles, so Felice read on.

"Is this seat taken?"

Startled, Felice looked up to find a man standing before her, pointing at the seat to her left. Felice decided he looked like a younger Tom Hanks, and laughed at her Forrest Gump reference.

"Oh, no. Not at all."

Felice quietly returned to her reading when a few minutes later, she felt the man looking at her. "Yes?" Felice asked.

"Oh, nothing. Sorry. I was just admiring your footwear," the man said with a grin. Felice looked down at her feet and realized the man was making fun of her Ugg boots. She scowled at the man and replied with a harsh "thanks". The man laughed to himself.

"I'm sorry, I didnt mean to be rude. I've just seen the type of girls who wear those boots and they are idiots."

Felice couldnt believe the man's rudeness and was left speechless. She began quickly gathering her things.

"Wait! No, I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I was going to add that I was wrong because obviously you're not one of those girls. That book you're reading." The man pointed to the book in Felice's hand. "Nicholas' Walk He Remembered. It's genius. One of my favorites."

Suddenly, Felice forgot her distaste for the man, replacing it with a cat-like curiosity.

"You've read this book?"
"Yes, I have."
"Huh. What's your name?"
"Sorry. I'm Jeff."

They shook hands.

"So, Felice, where are you flying off to?"
"I"m going home for my mother's funeral, " Felice said, with a hint of caution in her voice. "Coupeville. Washington."
"Oh, yeah? I'm sorry to hear about your mother; that's terrible."

They both paused for a moment.

"You know, I actually just came from that area."
"Coupeville? Really? What were you doing there?"
"Nothing, really. Just visiting. I was actually in Seattle, and just decided to drive out."

Felice nodded with understanding. "Well, I dont know why anyone would want to visit Coupeville," she thought to herself. "There isnt much there. That's why I left."

Neither of the two knew what to say next, so they let the uncomfortable silence hang in the air. Felice flipped through her book; Jeff looked at this watch, then surveyed the rest of the terminal.

"So why are you sitting here?"

Felice paused for a moment, working out the question in her head. "If you're here returning from Seattle, and this flight at this gate is going to Seattle, why are you sitting here instead of getting to your connecting flight or collecting your luggage or catching a ride home?"

Jeff smiled and let out a small laugh. Felice didnt move. She just kept looking at Jeff, pressing the question with her unflinching stare.

(first draft, unfinished)

Thursday, November 29, 2007

He Said He's Trying To Get Her Back

good luck, buddy. let me know how it goes.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

It's Always Colder in the Morning. Especially in Florida.

As much as I hate letting it happen, I had a bad dream, spent a second too long thinking about it, trying to analyze it, and then I couldnt force myself back to sleep. This always happens to me; a lot more often recently. "Oh? And why would that be, Mike?" "Oh, I dont know. I guess no real reason at all." "But you'll be fine; you're in the Navy. You dont need that much sleep!" "Yeah, I guess you're right, Michael. But I dont know. Do you really think so?"

Bad dreams. What I consider a bad dream has changed in some ways since I was a kid. I no longer fear the boogie man or the dark of night fall or any type of zombiatic beast. Now they're real; real things to feel bad about. Maybe it's another sign of growing up. The things you fear the most shift from creatures of the imagination to real-life situations. They become knock-on-wood situations, except that's not going to help me. It's already happened. The Nightmare Man has found me.

I know I said it up there, but now that I think about it again, I dont spend too much time analyzing it; at least not this one. What's there to analyze? It's not an imaginary situation, this is real. Maybe I analyzed to determine if it was real or not. And then I woke up and realized that, yes, this is my life. And it'll be great to lay here in bed thinking about what that is now. It'll be great to just lay here with the most lethal of your thoughts and replay everything back again, wondering that if you had tried something else, things would be different. You tell yourself that because in the end you know for a fact that you did nothing wrong, and you cant accept that fact that it happened anyway despite it. So maybe if I did something wrong instead of right, or maybe if I did something MORE right instead of wrong, then it would have been alright, right? No, it wouldnt have. And all the rest of these days and nights that you're not on top of your game will be spent realizing that fact. It wouldnt have been alright. Your own medicine is always the most bitter.

This place has been catching a lot of heat. Never did I think it'd be so wildly spread, and even spawn a tiny degree of speculation and rumor. Haha, at least I know people are reading, so that's always welcome. What I write here is what goes on in my head. It may have happened, it may not have happened. These are simply the thoughts and ideas and words that I tell myself, for whatever reason, and I just needed to get them out on paper. Lots of it is dramatic, maybe overly metaphorical, or maybe more harsh than expected ("Really? Is it THAT bad???"), but that's how I like to put it down. And NO ONE will tell me to do otherwise, NO MATTER WHAT.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Home is Where Hearts Love Me

It's really good to be home. Hanging out with all my old friends and people being happy to see you again fills me with a great joy that's been missing from my life. I think my mom was really happy to see me. The way she welcomed me home makes me think she was worried about me, like I'd break down or something dumb like that. Even though I think my mom should know I would never do that, it feels good to see my mom look out for me like I was a little kid.

There are two more ideas out there for short stories for me to write, so you might be able to get your grubby hands on those in the future. I'm still only half way done with the original one that I started to get myself through this mess, but thanks to the little ading from the PI that i never had, I've gotten a couple more ideas that I want to explore. Maybe something good will come out of it. Maybe something GREAT. Who knows?

Late night writing; it's time for round 2 on the Thanksgiving eats.

I'm thankful to be home with the people that care.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Back in Top Form

Well, I've got that fuel again. Lots of fuel for the fire. There's so much to put down, so much to say, but I dont feel like letting it out. I think I'll just hold on to this for a little while longer. Thanks a lot.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Old Times Arent So Old

Haha. So, for some random reason I dont even remember, I decided to go back and check out my xanga. I think I've had a xanga since September 2003 or something like that, and I read every single entry up to that first one. And geez, it was a trip.

Reading all that stuff that was written not too long ago, it was really funny. For one thing, I think a lot of those posts had to do with messy relationship stuff. The ups and downs of being human made for a lot of gas to fuel the flames, and I mean A LOT of gas. Like enough to freakin burn the building down. So there was that. But then, just reading the way I wrote my thoughts down was crazy. It's like I wrote the way the words came in my head, and I didnt stop to think about what I was writing, I just went for it, and it just flowed for me. I couldnt help but feel rushed even though I was reading each entry really slow (to try to "pull the meaning" out of all those old entries). My words just came out fast with tons of energy. The words were blunt and sometimes harsh (I think) and it was just rapid fire. I dont know how everyone else responded to that, but it kind of gave me a rush. I excited myself. That sounds a little... *cough*, but it's right. I think about what I write, how I write to myself now, and it feels so plain. In comparison, I've definitely cooled with what I type out in my opens forums and blogs. One whiff of the crap I write in the OYFA '07 thread, and I'd say I was crazy, but I definitely feel like I've lost an edge of who I used to be.

Maybe it's the "growing up", or the realization that I really am at that point of growing up, and college wasnt really anything but the best of youthful years. I'm beyond using the scene and emo and punk bands and their music and words to help get me through tough times or to get through life; to define my life. I still listen and I still enjoy, but it doesnt define anything for me. I'm not sitting here going "yes! you said exactly what I'm feeling!" Am I supposed to get dull when I grow up? I hope not. Once again, I blame it on not doing anything all day. Maybe if I fill my day with something, then I'll have something to discuss. I'm running out of thoughts in my head. No stimulation. Zombiieeeee.

Bright Lights, Big City... but only when you want to

Another day of nothing. Last night, I stuck around long enough to watch Alston miss the 3 pointer that would've tied up the game at the buzzer. As a result, the Rockets lose to the Lakers. And as a result of that, I woke up tired again today, but I was able to drag myself out of bed and head to the NASC pool in order to practice treading water. In the end, I was happy I did it and didnt give in to my lack of energy and laziness because I was actually able to tread water in my flight suit and boots. So that's one thing that I've accomplished while I've been here. I also got to jump off the high dive tower, which is mad fun. Unfortunately, I was wearing contacts since I didnt plan on jumping off the tower, so I wasnt able to complete the under water swim. All in all, a good day of effort.

Now I've really realized how little I did today, so I'm drawing blanks about what to say. Is this what happens? When your days and nights are essentially filled with nothing substantial or taxing, your mind draws and blank and you've got nothing to produce? I really dont think so, but I've been proven wrong pretty much ever since I've gotten down to Pensacola.

I thought about letting out my thoughts and feelings on that NYC thing, but I dont really feel up to it right now. Maybe I'll feel better about writing on the topic when I finish "On the Road" or when I start "The Great Gatsby". Basically the gist of it is that I believe that most people see NYC as this big bustling city with lots to do and lots of lights and excitement. "The city that never sleeps". Bright lights, big city. And that's what people dig about it. The pace of life is fast, you're doing everything fast. You're eating food fast. You're waiting for rides fast. You're watching your movies in fast forward. It's just the ultimate idea of "the big city" and that's what draws people in; to be able to live there is to be able to say you live in the most exciting city in the world. That's not why I want to live there. Watch that The Strokes music video I posted up down there. You see all their buddies hanging out in a bar, just talking, not really doing anything, just getting drunk and smoking? That's the experience I'm looking for. The NYC life I want to live is that kind of crappy apartment in a pretty old building, in just another neighborhood where you wont find the tourists. You know the people around you, you can walk up and down the street without the hassle of Broadway and Times Square. You've got your local spots, whether they be morning cafes/bakeries/food carts, or happy hour bars/pubs/etc. It just kind of has that feel to it. I cant really describe it. It's fire escapes, and hanging out on building rooftops, and walking home from bars, and knowing where to go to get your donuts or bagels or coffee or whatever you eat in the morning. In any other town, it would be a terribly boring life, but the fact that you're in NYC makes it more appealing (not exciting) than it really is. It might just be a case of the greener grass since I've always lived in relatively small towns, suburbia, etc and never in a big city, but maybe not. Maybe what I'm describing is that perfect balance for me, where you have access to the big city and it's bright lights and all of that hustle and bustle that comes with it, but only if you want to. Only if you want to venture into that part of town. Otherwise, it's sedated, it's relaxed, it's a lazy life. I am a huge fan of the chill life (the reason I wasnt dying of boredom while waiting down here for flight school, and thus I havent started flight school), but I also like to have my options about me. I'm all about leaving those options open so I can go off and satisfy my spontaneous urges whenever they may arise.

Well, I guess I went ahead and basically spit out everything about the NYC thing I want, so I can check that off of my to-do list.

But with this whole Navy, flight school thing, I feel like I've already written off the good part of my life. The part that's supposed to be used for exploring and living life before you settle down. I'll have great experiences and a great life, I'm sure; but I'm also pretty sure that it's not the experiences and life that I want.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

On The Road to finishing this book

I had another gym watch this morning, which freaking sucked. These new people totally screwed the system. You're supposed to earn your way to pool watches by working gym watches, but now it's all equal and crap, so even though I spent 2 months only doing gym watches, I'm still doing them. The only pros about this situation is 1) i get to lift/work out a lot since I have to be there anyway, and 2) without the need for taking temperatures, I have even more time on my hand during watch, which I fill with reading my books.

I went to Barnes & Noble and bought some books about a month ago. This was during my time of inspiration where I decided I was going to take it upon myself to read more and write more because I keep hearing over and over again from professional writers that the only way to become a better writer is to read and write. But anyway, so I bought "Catcher in the Rye", "On the Road", "The Great Gatsby", and this book of short stories written by J.D. Salinger. I read "Catcher" pretty fast, it being my favorite book and all since the 9th grade, and I read J.D. Salinger's book of short stories, which proved to me that Salinger really had nothing real to say at all, but he just liked telling stories (kind of the way I see Quentin Tarantino). So I start on "On the Road".

My buddy RVD tells me good things about this book, and of course I read great things about this book online through reviews, professional and personal, which is why I picked it up. But then I start reading it in my free time at home (which I have a lot of). I get bored with the book. I'm trying to get in the mind set, channel all the words people used to describe the book, but I just cant do it. This crap is boring me. So I put it down, never really got back to it. Then I start getting scheduled with these freaking gym watches and have like 2 extra hours to kill, so I start reading the book again (I didnt want it to go to waste. It cost $14). Now, it starts to make sense to me.

I read something like 150 pages today during watch, and I just kind of rolled with it. The way you're supposed to roll with a book that is, at the very least, somewhat interesting to you. I start making connections between myself and Sal, the protagonist, with him struggling between wanting to go on the adventure and wanting to settle down in life, and his best friends arent making it easy for him to settle. I kind of feel the same way, except, unlike Sal, I dont go on the adventures. I took the other road. I always take the other road. I settle down, I choose the steady life; I'm not rip-roaring all through the country, living these experiences that leave you poor and miserable, but fills your being with a smile for having lived life. There's a lot of supporting characters throughout the book who deal with this theme, and I guess in the end, maybe that's what the Beat Generation was all about. I actually dont know anything about the Beat Generation except that they were at their height right after WWII and that Jack Kerouac was their hero and gave them a voice with this very book. But maybe it has something to do with the struggle I mentioned before. If that's the case, then times have not changed for me. I still have that struggle within myself, except like I said, I choose a different path; and I think I'll probably just keep going through life choosing this path because I cant deal with the low moments of the other path that ultimately also make the path worthwhile. So until I can muster the courage to do so, the beat will have to just go on (pun entirely intended since I spent like 3 minutes trying to figure out how to end the entry like that).

PS: Sal is from NYC, and it got me thinking about wanting to live in NYC again. And THAT led me to thinking that the experience from NYC that I want is maybe not the stereotypical experience from NYC that everyone else usually thinks of, but I'll save that for another time. Just remind me to get back to it, or else I never will.

Monday, November 12, 2007

The Return to the Same

Wow it's been a month since I've entered anything into this spot that no one I know knows, or reads from. What can I say I've done with my time that pulled me away from this attempt to really get back into my grind? Ha, nothing. I havent classed up; I'm still going about doing the usual which isnt much. It's enough... for now.

Creativity is a funny thing. So often, I feel uncreative and the problem with that is that, in my mind, I used to be more creative. I used to write, to draw, make my own comic strips, make music, etc. For whatever they were worth, however good or bad they might have been, I was able to just put something done and get it out there. Now I just feel like I'm doing the day-to-day, following the track, and doing what I'm supposed to. It's like I locked that part of me up since it's supposedly time to grow up and do something legitimate instead of chasing dreams of "you know what would be cool?" The thing about it is that I wish I could be one of those lucky people who were able to take their creative "talents" and make something of it. They're able to get through all the little things that make life bothersome because they get to do something they enjoy.

Maybe that's what the problem was with me. Going to college is one of those one-time shots. Sure you can always go back and get whatever degree you want, but it's not the same. You're not 18 years old, let out into the world without responsibilities but without a watchful eye over your shoulder. You can do what you like, particularly with your classes. You can become what you want. I didnt take that option though. I went to school for what would be a good job when I graduate. I tell myself I dealt with it then and that I can deal with it now, but inside, I just really wish I could go back and do something else. I wouldnt call it regret....but now I just think I might have reconsidered some things when I was at school.

All I can do is just these little things to feel like I still have some connection to the creative person I always thought I'd grow up to become. Writing here, which no one I know can read anyway. Playing someone else's song on guitar/bass. I dont really draw anymore, but then I dont really feel the need to jump into it either.... Ugh. I need to get my head in the game. But which game?