I can’t tell you how good it feels to write something down and not judge the beauty out of it. To be in a headspace that allows freeform creativity without you telling yourself that what you have just written is utter bullshit and not worth the ink and paper on which it’s tattooed upon.

Maybe you know the feeling, but for me it has been almost 6 years since that feeling. When I used to come home from work at 4 am and just lie on the couch I slept on writing for hours. Listening to the soundtrack of American Beauty with Thee More Shallows, Tori Amos, and Rocky Votolato sprinkled throughout. Blasting from an HP that was borrowed from a future sister-in-law running some version of Windows with WinAmp as the music player. I add these details for context of history. How long it has been since I have felt any sort of confidence in my creative self.

I’m not sure how long it will last, but I know enough not to dwell on a detail like that. I know that I want to keep my head clear and power through an idea that started years ago in a studio basement apart in the ghetto. A cat sleeping on a piano, a computer in the living room on a kitchen table belonging to my paternal grandmother. Drinking coffee and listening to Mew, Nine Inch Nails, and more than likely, The Sisters of Mercy.

I truly love you all. Well, most of you.

Thanks for stopping by.

love,
adn

20130519-015829.jpg

Advertisements

I’m back in a space I have come to fear and revere, my head. Silence becomes a close and sacred friend when it feels like the only words you can say come out in a terrible tornado. Destroying innocents and innocence.

I have been told from a very young age to think before speaking and if I couldn’t say anything nice not to say anything at all.

These are two mechanics I have spent a great deal polishing and tweaking as to not get into trouble and so as not to offend. The problem with this is that no matter what, someone, somewhere, somehow will take offence to what you say. This applies to things said to the person or near the person.

The next step in my life is to abandon all hope of caring. Be offended by me. Feel offended by my words. I have spent far too much time on trying to be acceptable and in doing so have only made exceptions to who I am as a person.

Consider this a formal resignation. I don’t hate or take offence to your interpretation of who I am. I am me. I am who I am. I can’t go on as anything else.

Thanks for stopping by.

Love,
adn

20120822-005735.jpg

We’ve all been here before. A cashier gives us a total

that’ll be $18.77

and with utter delight and pure ignorance we reply

1877 huh? that was a good year

A smile creeps across your lips as you relish in your humour. How brilliant! How original! Most importantly, how funny!

My story begins when my little brother and I go to lunch on Tuesday. Fed up with standard fare, we venture downtown to Siegfried’s Delicatessen. A wonderful place to eat if you’re in the area. Even if you’re not, it’s something you should make pilgrimage to at least once. If not this German deli then some local German deli. Delicious food.

At Siegfried’s one can get a real taste of the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld. Not saying that the cooks and servers are mean, but it is similar in many ways. Firstly, there is always a bit of a line. You do have to know how to order or you’ll hold the line up and possibly get a stern look. Stern looks always pierce me harder than words. Next you order from one person, your plate gets handed down the assembly line to add on your spaetzle or rotkohl or what-have-you (my dad loves their what-have-you). Once your plate is complete you take your tray to the cash register and pay quickly and then you are free to enjoy your schweinsteak and a hard roll. It’s not mean or cold service, it’s just German and efficient.

We completed the ordering with no snags and I was ready to nom on some fried potatoes. The paying part is the easiest part by far, so I’m confident.

$19.15 she says.

Without a beat I say
1915 huh? Good year.

Regret followed quickly. You’re in a German deli! Don’t make history jokes! Don’t reference years! Just smile and thank them for the delicious sauerkraut.

1915? she says.
That was not a good year for my people. Armenian genocide.

If you have seen A Few Good Men you know the scene with Jack Nicholson talking to Tom Cruise about his father and he asks

How the hell is your dad Dan?

and Tom says
He’s dead, sir.

The look on Nicholson’s face I mimicked exactly as I said to myself his next line

Well, don’t I feel like the fuckin’ asshole?

I did. I felt awful. A stupid line I know most of us say in an attempt to be cute or ironic. I think next time I am given a total I will simply say “Thanks for letting me stop by”.

So to you, patrons of this blog, thanks for stopping by.

love,
adn

20120613-145503.jpg

I heard the most delicious lyric the other day and felt compelled to share.

Would the fox be as quick if he hadn’t his hound?

Pretty obvious what the lyricist was saying I feel. So what is your hound? What is constantly nipping at your heels and trying to catch you and essentially kill you?

As I thought about this I realised something scary. I am my own hound. I am the thing nipping at my heels, trying to kill or subdue myself, and constantly at war with myself. Even with all the other stuff in my life that I feel as insurmountable, the only thing standing in my way is me.

I’ve always thought of myself as kind of an asshole, but this is ridiculous. Why don’t I want to see myself succeed? Why don’t I want to see myself happy? Has it just become instinct to be depressed and feel like I have no way out? These are questions for which I sincerely wish I had an answer.

I don’t even know if I care enough to fight for it anymore. Not a desperate plea or declaration of killing myself or anything like that. Just a thought that maybe, just maybe, some people will go through life like this. It’s not to say that I don’t have happy moments, because I do. I have some fantastic moments with my family, especially with my niece. I don’t think I could give that up for anything.

But in those moments when my family is gone and my friends are busy, I am alone with myself. And when I’m with myself, all I do is think, “why am I alone?”. I apologise for coming off as emo and whatever other pejorative you can think of to describe someone express an honest feeling, but it’s how I feel.

Life will go on. I suppose. Thanks for stopping by.

love,
adn

20120527-163845.jpg

One year ago today, I was discharged from IMC in Murray. I had fruit and cottage cheese for lunch with the most delicious lemonade ever. People bitch about hospital food, but in our current state of evolution, it is delicious, and of course, nutritious.

My mom was sitting on the couch in my room and I remember having never felt better. My health had been in disrepair for a long time and my mental health was even worse. Imagine how happy I was to find out that I was indeed going to live. A very friendly pacific islander wheeled me to my moms car and off we went. I didn’t want to be wheeled out, but I guess wheelchair exits are mandatory. Mom and I went shopping for some new toiletries and I was able to go in with her. I could actually walk around the store with her without feeling like I was going to collapse in giant lump of failure.

A year later I am still fighting the fight and enjoying small victories everyday. I passed my GED with above average scores and I am taking Japanese lessons from my dad. I’m still unemployed but I am applying for jobs everyday.

I couldn’t have got to where I am without the love and support of my family and friends. Whether it was in text or in person, I couldn’t have done it alone. Thank you to everyone and thanks for stopping by.

love,
adn

20120305-095728.jpg

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,200 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 37 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Where do I even begin?

As a boy you are taught to be dominant. Obstinate. Rebellious. The only thing I am obstinatious about is this line of thinking. I am not dominant. I am not rebellious. I have my own thoughts and emotions, but they aren’t in conflict with anyone else’s. Therefore, I am an individual without the annoying “you can’t tell me what to do” mentality. My family may disagree slightly on this point, but that’s ok. They can’t tell me what to do. What happens when you aren’t good at filling the stereotypical male role in life? That’s what I’ve been pondering as of late.

First I feel the need to link the title to the subject. A part of dominance is indifference. You will find people that can’t be gulled or bullied into your mindset. You can’t make everyone be the perfect friend, partner, family member, etc. Everyone is an individual at heart and some won’t be swayed by baby blue eyes and dimples as deep as the ocean. Herein lies the rub, if you have been taught to be a good alpha male and you have had success in it, your failures will be few and insignificant. You’re indifferent to them. You move on. I am not indifferent about anything. I try my damnedest to simply shrug off failures no matter the scale with no success. I dwell. I stagnate. In that regard, indifference is killing me. I need to learn acceptance and perseverance.

The second thing I have found about not fitting into male stereotypes is, you will eventually. You will do so not even of your own accord. You become the guy that all the girls wish their guy or previous guys were like. You relish and bask in your glorious rise above. Nice guys do finish. Once you finally have a success under your belt, you turn into the alpha male. Nothing can stop you. You are now the desired and sought after. Instead of enjoying the company you’re in and being grateful for the newfound love, you think of the next move. Why? Because you’re a guy. You’re inherently an asshole and there’s little to do about it. Or is there?

Obviously these are my own opinions and do not reflect much fact. They are based 100% on emotion and facts are skewed by those emotions. I recently felt like I was wronged by someone and I couldn’t just let that person go. I needed them to know how I felt. The more I thought about it and distanced my emotions from actual events, I discovered I was that alpha male. I had someone to like me for me and all my faults and all I could think of is how the other males would react. Never taking into account my feelings or her feelings. I was searching for a trophy. An object for others to covet. What did I end up with? Nothing.

Now, this isn’t really the “end” in so many words, but it probably will be a temporary end of hunting. Deep down I think I am a nice guy. I think we are all nice guys deep down inside. The only thing that separates the alpha males from the nice guys is the idea that in order to be happy our fellow knuckle-dragging cave dwellers have to be jealous and covetous. Let’s all focus on the positive things in our lives. Be happy with what we do have and who we are at the core. Back to the roots. So pick up those knuckles, clean behind your ears, open doors for others, and smile. On three…break!
Thanks for stopping by.

love,
adn

20111229-122444.jpg

Someone tell me how I feel

Today feels full and busy. Feels like I have a million things to do and I only have today to do them. Truth is, the day is light. It’s actually just about a half dozen phone calls to make and then pick up around the house. Easy right?

In my head, there is nothing more terrifying than initiating contact with a company. I used to be a pro at it, but I haven’t had to call anyone for a year. Today I have to call my neurologist, cardiologist, insurance company, and then some incoming calls. The incoming ones aren’t as bad because all I have to do is answer and respond. The ones where I am required to initiate and explain what I need, want, and make sure my meaning isn’t lost is terrifying. They all have to do with my health and I always feel like I am missing something.

I don’t like being a grown up. Not one sodding bit. The bottom line is, I have to deal with these things now. Procrastination only leads to massive panic attacks later. So throw those curtains wide, one day like this a year would see me right. Thanks for stopping by.

love,
adn

20111115-121716.jpg

Today I had a follow up with the heart clinic. Lovey group of people with a singular goal: get you healthy. It’s their master plan if you will. Today revealed my weight was up quite a bit and my breathing was worse. The first thing I thought of was “what the cuss?! we had a master plan!

My diet and exercise have been the same since leaving the hospital in March with the exception of fluid restriction. As I am not retaining fluid, I do not have to ration. Pretty rational.

In fact, if anything, my exercise has become better. Longer distances, less breaks, working up a real sweat. le sigh

I also informed them of my predicament with my insurance coming to an end on Saturday and being out of pills. Plans were made for that and I will still see them on a monthly basis while we wait for medicaid to answer or for me to find a job. I submitted about 15 applications this morning, so I am hoping for a bite out there. Fishing is supposed to be peaceful. Not job fishing (I don’t hunt).

One strange thing happened today that had nothing to do with my health. More to do with my paranoia. A slender man came in to have his defibrillator checked. The same device I denied to be put in. Not that strange considering I was in a heart clinic. The strangeness, he was born on 11/19/1963. 22 years older than I. Maybe this is something all 11/19’ers share. Maybe CGB Spender had something to do with this illness too. Preparing for colonisation. Or maybe I should stop watching X-Files before bed. Mayhaps. Thanks for stopping by.

Love,
adn

20111114-114826.jpg

In life, just as in film and television, there are second takes. Tertiary takes. Multiple takes in which we try to get things just right. We’ve been brought up to make a great first impression, because you only get one. We are also brought up to not judge a book by its cover. First impressions are just the cover of your personality. So we are taught to be charming and alluring covers that no one is supposed to judge. Life. What an exhausting and aggravating series of contradictions we put up with.

The only reason I brought up multiple takes is because this is the third revision of this entry. Not just in my wording or witty title linked to both theme and the music I am listening to as I write, but in the theme as a whole. Usually once I start on a theme, I just go on until I am tired of grinning at my own wit. This time, it was different.

So many emotions are running through my head and I can’t focus on one. The only thing I know is I don’t want to be a downer. The first two attempts focused on the sad and scary events to come. Why focus on that? I need to make a good first impression to those that this is a first entry for. If you are new, don’t judge me by my cover. Don’t judge me even though I have thought and rethought what to say so that if this is the first time for you, you will love and accept me. You will take me off the shelf, read me cover-to-cover, and bug your friends about this great new book you found.

I am stuck. Stuck up. Stuck up on this shelf. I am trying to dust off the cover and patch any torn bindings so you won’t run at first glance.

My focus is on the week to come. Another doctor visit. Another birthday. Another attempt to remain calm when my only thought is to run far away. This week will be good. I’ve already written three days in a row and ran the last two days. Things are off to a steady start. Let’s hope for the best as I reach to rip my heart from my chest. Thanks for stopping by.

Love,
adn

20111113-113223.jpg