One day I hope to be this good...

Definitely stole the post title from Danny. :)

Spit in the Mud... go on, try it, it's fun...

About two weeks ago, one of my best friends, Hosanna Wong, approached me about joining her in starting a ministry team called Spit in the Mud (SITM). The team would aim to use spoken word poetry (or spitting) to reach out to youth groups, camps, and schools to show God's love and messages. We spitballed (pun intended) for a while about how we would do it, and then she talked to our good friend and my future roommate Danny Sugimoto about adding to the team his own flare of spoken word.
All of us had already been practicing a spit skit that Hosanna wrote for chapel at Hope International University, so we all had a ballpark idea of what it would kind of be like. We performed the piece "We Will Be Different" in chapel and it went amazingly well.
We now have at least one school and a few churches asking us to come out there to speak and we haven't even started doing PR yet. This has just been an amazing opportunity and it's only just begun.
For those who happen to read my blog and also have a Facebook, we have a page, just search for "Spit in the Mud." Please, feel free to contact us for any sort of setting.
Oh, and here's the video of "We Will Be Different," we have a better version (but still not great) but we haven't had the time to upload it yet.
Thanks so much for reading.

"hear it"

hear it,
feel it.
poet.

"Watterson For President"

"April is the cruelest month--"
but it's also Poetry Month (thank you Academy of American Poets). Many poets celebrate this time by writing as much poetry as they can, the goal is to write one piece every day. While I was too caught up in other things to attempt this, I tip my hat as far and low as I can to Danny Sugimoto.
However, since I found a spare hour today, I wrote a piece to share.

"Watterson For President"
4/14/10

And they say there's no hope.
They cry in the streets that this is just how it is.
The only way.
Well baby, I see skies of blue and that gives me a new hope.
Because in the face of the easy path,
the dark path,
Skywalker didn't just say "anger's easier,"
he chose the meeker side of things.
And in a world with "too few role models"
and "a stupid game" called war,
I'll start a revolution of playing peace,
even if it's only me and two comic characters...
because
we all gotta start somewhere.

 I enjoy the idea of this one, not as much as the execution. For a better understanding read this.

"Bet Me If You Can"

I am a gambler,
see me roll.
Stakes high,
chips fly,
odds rise against me.

I'll take the risk no matter the
loss--
cost me a beat,
toss in a heart,
I'm all in.

It's nature,
or addiction--
either way,
the math won't add
and I will lose.
But you
fold,
and I watch your back get smaller.

Question:
is it
you won't
or can't
go all in, too?

Drop the poker face,
it's just me, you,
and the dice.
And yes, the risk is
high,
but so is the prize.

So let's see those
cards, baby,
and take this town like Rain Man.

"How Not to Read"

I tried, I did

To not read in

But there are only so many

Constants and vowels

You can get before you have words

And I have pages

It could be great, I know

But words don't always show

Truths.

F in din gHo wA llth ePie cesF it

A correction to my last post--
I have been struggling for the last three to four weeks with my newest poem (spoken). And for a while the major issue was I couldn't find my own voice. I realized my philosophy contrary to Stephen King's (he always does end up being right, doesn't he?) had filled my brain with another's voice (Rives) and everything I was writing sounded like something he would say.
I tried desperately to fight this and I started to listen to some well-written rap (as given to me by Todd Hicks) which centered primarily on Lupe Fiasco's The Cool. This helped me to stray away from the un-rhythmic talking of Rives back to my own style which is grounded a bit more in a set flow and rhyming pattern.
So, King wins again. I bow my pen down in reverence...
However, I'm still struggling with this piece. And it really has been a tremendous learning experience. I've always admired Uncle Stevie for his ability to understand the craft of writing and why he is successful and so darn good at what he does (see On Writing for more information, again when it comes to writing, in my book King is one of the greats). But similar to him, I have been learning what it is that makes my old pieces ("Words" and "What Makes a Man?") so good. Besides the topics and the content, what about my style of the craft works? What works better?
I first struggled with putting too much of myself into the piece. I was telling too much of my story and while my experience leads my subjects, I am not the subject. I don't want to be the subject. I don't like attention. At all. Ever. It makes me feel awkward. Maybe because I've been ignored for most of my life (my parents are shaking their heads right now "No! It's cause you talk too much!!"). Anyway, bottom line my pieces are supposed to be universal and applicable to every audience member/reader. And while personal testimony helps, the vague experience that can be heard behind it is stronger.
I've also learned that my spoken poetry needs to be a bit ADD. It needs to jump around a little, be a little vague while still teaching and driving home one point. But it needs to move and move quickly in a flowing, transitional way.
Well, I don't know if any of that made sense, but there is so much learning when it comes to writing that I don't even realize occurred, and happens so subconsciously. Anyway, with how much of a rollercoaster this poem has been so far (I'm still not done, not even half way) I couldn't stand looking at this blog and seeing my last post completely contradict the way I feel now and what I've learned, so I had to correct myself and once again throw my lot in with Uncle Stevie.

Also, I've learned that the father to great writing is constant unsatisfaction. It leads to so many more wonderful and beautiful experiences and pushes me to rise away from complacency and an " eh, good enough" attitude.

I guess I'm still f in din gho wa llth epie cesf it together...hopefully they come together soon, if not you may be reading another post in five weeks that expresses more of my frustration.

Call Me a Crock Pot and Dub Me Simmering

I find myself very often in a limbo state. Not really suffering from writer's block but not over-flowing with ideas. In these moments of confusion, Stephen King says that he likes to go on walks (and it was on these walks, this limbo, that he was hit by a car...not a very promising thought).
I, however, have always found walks or any other sort of remaining-in-my-own-head activities as very restricting and not very useful. And it's not very often that I disagree with the King, so this is a rare moment.
I guess it's like Dr. Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds says, "Repetitive thinking is a death knell for the brain. For complete brain usage, diverse stimulation is the key." This show has seriously become my new addiction, it is truly incredible. If you've never watched it, do so now.
Anyway. So, in limbo, I find myself retreating into books or more recently spoken word poetry on YouTube. And it was this wonderful invention that showed me such amazing poets as Shihan, Gemineye, and the amazing Rives.
My brother has told me my entire life that he loves listening to me talk, the way I talk and what not I guess. I've never really understood this, until I started to watch Rives. I love the way his mind works, I love his craft and his ability to use words and I love the way he talks.
For more information on Rives click here, YouTube "Rives," or just watch these amazing pieces he did for TED.






He's definitely one of many ingredients I toss into my crock pot, just to let it simmer and see what comes out. Also check out "Kite" by Rives it's one of my favorites.

"Speak to Be Heard"

"Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow..." - Lawrence Clark Powell

Last night I performed (for the first time) spoken word at my school's coffee house night. It went really well. Amazing in fact.

Figured I'd post here to share, though of course, hearing it is better than reading it.

If you couldn't make it last night, the bolded "words" are where I threw my fist in the air and had the audience shout "words."

"Words"

12/10/09

Last night I had a dream you see

In my slumber I watched a rumble and a tumble

Atop a hilltop I saw a battle in a valley

A war waged between only one enraged army

One people

All soldiers under one kingdom

Fighting for their quote end quote freedom

Men rose and they chose to slaughter their daughters

To burn down their brothers, and murder their fathers

Swords clanged and they clashed as little girls took up the sword as they had been taught

And blood soaked in the field and bones covered the grounds

And I looked all around to discover this hill wasn’t really a hill at all it was a cloud

And the valley was the earth

And the soldiers, my brothers

The army, my people

And I heard a small voice say to me,

“Now you see how dark the ways of man,

How violent the blaze of man,

How temporary the days of man.

Now you believe the pain of the sword,

The strain it affords,

And the gain it ignores.

Now you must act to bring about change

To lead a new phase

And use words to save the day.”

And I fell to the earth as the cloud disappeared

And the atmosphere set me ablaze to start again

It cleansed and it purified all my wants and desires

And I exploded to the earth still set on fire

Ready in hand with a brand new pen and a sharp new tongue

Ready to undo what man has done.

And I spoke, as I had been spoken to:

“Take heart, dear people,

Take heed, my brothers,

And I ask you, where does it lead?

This sword that you swore would be your protection

Has it filled its lofty position?

You’ve saved your wives and your children for sure

And you’ve shown the whole world how great the man you are

But at what expense? At who’s expense? At who’s incentive?

And can you recompense the pain you’ve gained from?

Sure, we’re the civilized society, the burger with fries society, it’s all-about-the-size society, the means are justified by the prize society

But what you’re really just saying is we’re the animals with supplies society

The beasts with the means

And if you want to disagree

I ask you to look the children and the wives of the other side in the eyes and tell them your right, tell them your holy, tell them you’ve decided they and their loved ones have to die!

Because you know what? The difference between the sword and the pen?

Is the sword really kills

The pen? You can throw your metaphors, analogies, imageries and see what sticks

But in the end, the only time the pen brings physical death is when it is misused, misread

By angry men, by blinded men, with small-picture means

Who think the only thing that can save their earthly fortunes is death

Because “murder protects and words just collect into nothing"

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.”

And when he speaks I don’t think he means battles and violence because those actions end things, and actions that are words start things.

Again, if you wanna disagree, let’s take a look through history

At the power of

Words like

Taking a seat at the front of the bus

Showing the world a hundred years haven’t changed us

You call us naïve idealists, hippies just here to protest

And I’m just saying, we’re just showing love

And love is actions, and love is

Words like

Taking a stand against an oppression

Rising a people to march an objection

A protest to taxation, taxation on salt

That’s all

A tax on salt and men rose up

But when the other kiddies knock over our sand castle

When we believe the lie that a good defense is a good offense, a good vengeance

We ignore the power of actions, the strength in

Words like

Teaching the people there’s more than they know

Showing them all how fast love can grow

Speaking to them to turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

Using that love and those words to break down an empire

And exercising silence in order to sacrifice

So tell me: how rightly, how mighty is your violence?

How strong is your sword?

Can it weather the storm of Truth and words?

Because actions bring consequences, you reap what you sow, and retaliation will kill you

So you kill to protect

You murder to heal

Fight fire with fire when fire doesn’t put out fire it just starts more

And you fall to your sword

When you should rise to your words.”

And by the end of my dream there was this strong sound, this rising, fighting to breath sound, that echoed all around and shattered the bones on the ground

And it sounded a little like:

Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words!

But to be honest I’m not really a pacifist

Because I do battle with words

I duel with adjectives and verbs

And I can fence with sentences

And for those who don’t, I don’t blame 'em

Because we’ve all heard the lie, but talk isn’t cheap, it’s hard

And choosing to fight is easy, and typically the hard thing is the right thing

Or so I’ve been told

And to be really honest I don’t know if I am right

But I know that a life is sacred

And I know that violence follows violence follows violence

So what then follows talk and actions?

So this is a call for change

This is a call to rearrange our instincts

To re-think our choices, our voices

This is a call for words!

So there's that one, and here's this one...

"What Makes a Man?"

1/10/10

What makes a man?

There’s gotta be an answer

It can’t just be some non-descript question, paper slip certificate, fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude, empty lip the principal gave me to make me grow up

I don’t believe it’s some useless threat my parents threw in my face so I’d face the consequences of my ride on the fences of responsibility

Words that float through air without a care and dare you to wish, dare you to dream they could be real when really they’re just lies

It can’t be that

Not rumors, urban legends, mythologies about ideology, philosophies that tell you you might as well be trying to learn to fly with wings made from wax and ignorance

So what makes a man?

Business suit attire

With a tie too tight to breathe

He’s up at three, to the station by four-forty-five for a two hour bus ride to work

From seven to six

And by the end of his eleven hour shift?

His slicked back hair is soft from the wear of working under a hard man, a merciless man

Because as the assistant to a business man

He’s not given the respect he deserves as his own man

And while often it seems like just fate, he’s often cheated out of his lunch break

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the strength to complain about the difficulty?

Or the love to refrain because he’s got to provide for a family?

What makes a man?

Foxhole box to keep him in

Buddies and comrades by his side

Blonde set in a snapshot hiding in his pocket

He’s got a lot to live for

See she is going to be his wife

Soon as he gets home

But the phone calls they get to make to each other every six weeks aren’t enough

She’s all he thinks about, all he talks about, all he fights for, lives for, be willing to die for her

Whistle and thud and a grenade is laid down to the ground gently

Right behind him

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the selfishness to run so he can see her?

Or the selflessness to jump so he can save them?

What makes a man?

Two part time jobs and a cushy home to boot

Life seems great, life seems grand

And with two parents who pay, life is dandy

Not rolling in cash, not many bills to pay

Gas in the tank and whatever other useless stuff he can rake in

Times are slim, but for him? He’s still getting a DVD a week

And some new clothes on the weekend

But then he’s reminded about the poverty of the society of Africa

And how their health and wealth isn't the same as his health and wealth

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the excuse he makes that it's in another man's hands?

Or the choice he makes that the responsibility is in his own hands?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

I think I know.

And maybe you do too.

But let me impart what I’ve learned so far.

So what makes a man?

Love makes a man

I was once told and I believe that if you ask what is the loving thing to do, you will be right 95% of the time

And the rest of the time you will be striving to find what is right, and that makes a man too

See we all have this delusion that being a man is not the same as being a gentleman

And the gentlemanly thing to do, definitely isn't the manly thing to do

But what makes a man?

Gentleness

Kindness

Self-control

A searching man once made a list of all the thing’s a man is

Wrote 'em on post-its and stuck 'em where he could not forget it

And his ever-growing list ever-grew into a tree of life and knowledge

And he picked off the fruits and he learned

A man is responsible

A man is respectable, respectful

A man is humble

A man is self-less

A man is self-sacrificial

And a man is a lot of other things we don’t think we can be

Something’s that are just too subjective, he can be it, I can’t be it, we’ll just leave it

But a man is wise

And a man is patient

And a man is courteous, honest, chivalrous, willing, loyal, dedicated

And a man is sincere

And he’s quick to listen and he’s slow to speak

And a man is a lot of other things that actually come easy

Because a man is prayerful

And a man is peaceful and comforting and strong

But not in the way you’re thinking of strong

Because a man is strong [side note: held fist to heart]

And a man is joyful

And he’s pure in thought and action!

And a man is vigorous in his pursuit of goodness and righteousness!

And a man is steadfast!

And he holds to the truth no matter what, no matter the consequences, no matter the insults or the pride holding him back

Because you know what? Of all the fruits on the tree the searching man made

There was one he forbade to never let go

And it is: a man is content with Jesus as his everything

Because what makes a man?

God makes a man

God fear, God near, God here [side note: touched heart]

For God so loved the world that he believed in man

He believes in man

And they say God won’t give us more than we can handle

And this is what He’s given us

So what can we handle?

See we’re all searching for what a man is

Whether you’re male or you’re female

And I don’t have all the answers yet

Because there are too many I don’t want to forget, and too many more to explore

So I want to leave you with these four simple words

With this quest that should help you in life with your struggles and strife

Are you ready?

Because it’s a tough one, it’s a doozy, it’s…it’s a hard one,

But it’s easier if you're searching, if you’re asking:

What makes a man?

And I think you know.

Miss Hiedi Johnson asked me after what the four words are. She asked if it was "God makes a man." I told her, to me, they are "What makes a man?" and also "I think you know." That's because it leaves it as more of a quest and a searching. I think it needs to be a discovery rather than a sermon a man decides to believe. There's more faith in searching.

However, she's right: "God makes a man" is four words and that's perfect and works beautifully as if I had planned it :), as do any word before "makes a man" ("Love makes a man," "Responsibility makes a man," etc etc etc) so that all works, too.

And that's it. That's all I got...

Plan to write another soon...now? We'll see...need an idea, need an idea...

"You Have Exchanged Nothing"

I have reached a new chapter in my life. And I don't think it's sunk in just yet exactly where I am.

Two weeks ago today (12/25/09) at about 9:30 pm I officially completed my first novel.

188, 12pt font, single spaced pages. (374 double spaced)

86, 698 words.

3 1/2 years.

Blood.

Sweat.

Tears.

And while it is probably one of the greatest accomplishments of my 20 year life right now (I finished the first draft of my first book when I was 20!), I am not satisfied.

But maybe that is because I don't know what's to come.

I am not satisfied because I know it's not ready. I know I have a lot of work to get done on it before I feel comfortable letting anyone else (Chris excluded) look at it, breathe on it, experience it.

I failed the ending. It didn't flow right, it wasn't descriptive, full enough, definitely wasn't long enough. My intended goal was 200 pages, roughly 100,000.

I missed the mark.

But it's only draft one, and draft one is complete.

I've decided to re-read over Stephen King's section of his book On Writing about revising and editing. If you haven't read On Writing you should, even if you don't like King. You will learn to respect him because of this book. Because he lays out why it is that he is so successful, and it's not a fluke. Even if you're not a writer, you can appreciate this book (my dad did).

King tells me that the first step in revising a work, building draft two, is to not look at, touch, or even think about the book for 6 weeks...minimum.

When something that is so short for a novel (King keeps talks about 400-500 page manuscripts with 350,000 word counts) and it's taken up 3 1/2 years of your life, you want to get it done. To keep working it, scrubbing it, cleaning it, perfecting it.

But I trust him.

So I dropped it.

But it still hasn't left my mind, and that'll take a few days.

According to websites I just browsed, one said that I am definitely classed as a hard-bound novel (25,000-150,000 words, 100-600 double spaced pages) as opposed to a paper-back novel (35,000-80,000 words, 140-320 double spaced pages). So I'm on the shorter end of a hard cover, and that's comforting.

Another site said some publishers prefer a minimum of 70,000 words for a first novel, while others won't take anything less than 80,000, and they are less inclined to like a 110,000 word first novel.

And that gives me a lot of comfort.

But,

I'm dropping it.

To get my mind off my baby, my child, that terribly ugly old thing over there (I have a terrible knack of comparing myself to King and he says that if a novel shouldn't take you longer than 3 months to finish you're doing something wrong, I did that 14 times over...).

Anyway, yet again to get my mind off that blasted book I began writing something new yesterday. And to be honest...the first scene is really cool. The story telling technique isn't perfect yet, I haven't worked out the exact nature of the big reveal for the scene, not sure if my method was flawless, but the idea, the characters, the direction it has the potential to go into (since I have no idea what this is at all, a few vague ideas but nothing more) seems very promising, and very fun.

So that is my life as a writer. Exactly like my new story: a lot of promise, very fun, a direction with a lot of potential, and when I'm completely honest with myself: not as bad as I think it is.

Now, the other part of my life.

I have started a new chapter, a new beginning, a new facet of a coal-transforming-diamond...

Over the last few months—

My gosh this is a long post! Sorry...

Over the last few months I have had this incredible face-to-face confrontation with God. Closer than I've ever been. I can feel him breathing.

I went through a drastic revelation from God back in October that challenged me to disregard all of my searches for my own happiness, my own love and to search after him with that passion and vigorous pursuit.

Because of the weight of that night and what I felt and heard Him say, I have sworn to never look back, to keep moving forward and always strive to become the man that He wants me to be.

And that is one of the things we have been talking about: "What does it mean to be a man, versus a boy?"

Aswell...

"Do you love Me more than these?"

"God first, before anything"

"God helps those who help others"

And the idea of "Steadfastness"

There has been sacrifice, submission, a drastic change in my prayer/Bible-reading life, and I like to think a drastic change in my attitude and presence.

I think that for many months, years God was preparing me for that night. He was steadily moving me toward that night where He could swoop in and cut to the quick with Words.

It has been an amazing adventure so far and I know I'm barely out of the exposition (look up a plot diagram once in a while, why don't ya?)

But unlike my writing life, I see the direction for this chapter, I can see the promise more clearly. And I see the potential worry that could sink in with the rising action to come (finding a job, moving out of my parents house, finding a wife, getting married, leading a family, paying off my loans), but then I just "consider the ravens" (see Luke 12:24) and remember that no matter what, I'm set, I'm safe, I've got back up through it all.

Life is moving, developing, dynamic changes are coming and have been underway. This is not a time for complacency or laziness, but growth and action. The direction has been set, and the promise is a beautiful facet with the possibility for more.

“Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.”

- William MacNeile Dixon

(sketches of the Hope Diamond)

e.e., Willie, and Me

For our Analysis of Literary Forms class we've had to read a wide variety of very interesting pieces. Some of the most prominent in my mind are e.e. cummings and William Faulkner. Both of these writers were largely modernist in their style and composition, emphasizing free verse and stream of conscious quite frequently. And it is because of these two greats that I find myself doing this:

"These, Thoughts"

11/16/09

Do you love me more than these?

My mind

A vagabond

Roman, circus, or not

No home

[So many]

Just thoughts

[So many]

Wanderer

My mind

[So many]

thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts fill my head

build build build control my mind sway me away from the

true path

[truth proven in vulnerable

forced to understand truth

broken till belief]

Then I hear—

Do you love me more than these?

Hesitation

Do you love me more than these?

Perhaps

Do you love me more than these?

Yes. Now, body, act.

God helps those who help

Others

I realize the brackets are very e.e cummings, but they really seem to set the text apart in a way that parentheses, italics, bold, all caps can't. And I think it's really important for the bracket portions to be separated.

Anyway, it's been a while since I've posted, and even longer since I've posted creativity, so I'm going to put one more up. This is a few months old, but still one of my favorites...maybe I'll put two.

"A Cigarette With God"

9/25/09

Does it hurt? I don’t

‘no.’

Confusion-delusion profuses

And the noose is

…not mine.

Hands in the air

With everybody else staring at me

There’s more rope if you wanna go…

Not mine.

And that’s where I struggle.

That’s where I hurt.

Where this heart screams that instead I

Take the noose!

And hang the emotions!

Fuck my heart!

I can survive

I can live

I’ll be OK!

And Norah calms me

“Something has to make you run…”

My feet are tired

They hurt

I need new shoes because these ones

Are worn

And sole-less

Thank God I’m not soulless with my

Feet on gravel

Blood

Crimson

Raw

Bones

And I’m tired.

Should I worry?

Do I dare?

My heart is bare from all these cares

And the cost of these fairs is so great my rhymes even fucking annoy me!

“All

This

Uselessness

I

Write”

Leave me on the tile

“emptiness”

Longing for

“Distractions.”

And finding God silent.

Leisure strolls with fear in tow.

Finding God waiting.

Smoking His last cigarette.

Where were You?

I felt You.

I saw You.

Knew You.

But couldn’t hear You.

“WAIT.”

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

And I wait

Are You annoyed?

Are you?

Cause I am!

Then He passed me His last

And taught me to relax

Taught me to calm the storms of my

Capsized, bleeding ship now floating

Where were You?

Where were You?

I was here.

I AM here all along.

I know. But where were You?

Silent. Does that bother you?

And then my turn…

I trust

And I wait

That one is what spurred on my recent post entitled "The 'Fuck' I'm Talking About".

I really enjoy it because it accurately shows my struggle at that time. And I think it is so beautiful. Sorry if any are offended (by either the f-word, or the image of God smoking [see The Fray's song "You Found Me"])

"Table"

9/15/09

Quiet night

Darkest liquid calm my nerves

I feel I am the only

One of my kind

Alone

Solitary

Table as my company

No kings or rich man can compare

Try, electric generators if you dare but

I know I am

Alone

Failed metaphors of poet’s past

May tempt my mind to ease

There is no one like

Me

We

Are alone

To hoard and store, few can compare

To this “fair” price we fare for our

Transgressions?

Nay, for our hope.

Ha ha ha!

Hope!

Thanks be to God for my hope!

This gift that I must hold for now

To save bestow for someone grand

But hold it close, keep it tight!

For hope will give me life…

And where does this hope lead?

This special hope bleed?

To love

Thanks be to God for my love

This gift I must hold for now

To save bestow—

Crimson

Clover

Crowded heart

Claustrophobia

I hold so much in my heart so much passion emotions love and I’m not sure what to do with it I don’t see a drain for my relief or a leak to release this swelling and so it builds builds builds builds builds and I am left to hold it with nowhere to put it no one to share it and you can’t see my pain you can’t understand…

And I don’t know why we’re alone

Or what great sins we to atone,

I only know that I have love

And not a way to rid me of—

These quiet nights

Downtown

Coffee shop

Table for one, please.

These are seriously my three favorite poems I've written this year. I think they are so progressive and show so much of my development as a writer and poet. They really are the essence of my recent poet-identity-crisis (see...oh I haven't written a blog about that yet...hm), my experimentation because of that dilemma, and the changes that have been happening in my life this semester.

Too much good stuff.

As always, thanks for reading.

That hourly prayer...

God I ask for strength...

I ask for confidence...

I ask for comfort...

I ask for peace...

And I ask for wisdom...

Steady my heart, Lord

So be it.

Check the Cards in My Back Pocket

My mom said something interesting to me the other day.

"Nathan, you don't just keep your cards close to your chest, you hide them."

I responded by pointing at my sleeve, "You see that? You see that? That's a rock. Not because it really is, but because I tell you it is."

I know I have a problem. A problem many people may think is not that bad. I don't like to admit my feelings or present myself in a way that my feelings (whether romantic or otherwise—annoyance, anger, depression) are evident. Only recently (the last few weeks) have I begun to acknowledge outwardly as well as inwardly that I have problems, that I have issues that are important.

I don't know how to deal with this problem. I feel awkward, I feel selfish when I talk about my problems. The only times I do are when I can't take it anymore (see U2's "I know I'll go crazy if I don't go crazy tonight" song...whatever the title is) or when I'm asked more than twice "What's up?"

"Hey wanna listen to me spill my guts about my problems?" sounds selfish. To me, it is selfish. (insert chuckle here) Yet, I constantly implore others for their issues, I am constantly trying to aid others and help them through their problems, in showing them love—in bending over backwards to love on them so that they feel safe and comforted. I can't help it, it's what I'm about. And if it kills me (which I think it slowly is) at least God will be happy I'm loving and my friends will be happy that they're no longer hurting. Is there relief in that? Is there some sort of "pouring back in" from all the pouring out I do? Yeah... Is it enough? I don't think so. I love to help. Every other week I look forward to Sack Lunch Ministries. I find relief there, there is a release of my pain when I'm with those people, when I feel that I'm doing good.

Last night I lay in bed and asked God, "What am I moving towards? What can be so amazing, so awe-inspiring, that it is worth all this pain?" I lied to myself and said there could be nothing that great. But deep inside I'm still, in part, an idealist, a romantic. And today it was echoed by a very good friend, "There is no 'probably' or 'sure.' Something great is coming. Something amazing is out there." I love her. She's such a good friend.

So, if you ever want to actually see what color that heart I like to say is a rock on my sleeve is, just check my back pocket, or ask three times—it builds so much, there's no way I'll be able keep it in with that kind of probing. Or if you think I'm selfish too, just come tell me your problems. I'd honestly love to hear them.

As always, thanks for listening—er, reading.

Perceptions. Distractions.

Perceptions.

We talked today (tonight) in class about perceptions. About how we perceive things differently. This was all spoken of in the name of criticism, how other cultures/time periods looked at a piece of literature etc etc etc, Professor Garton even talked about how my perception of the desk was different from his perception of the desk, and thus there were actually two desks (or as many desks as their were people in the room).

It's interesting to think of all the different perceptions in the world. How I perceive something is totally different than how you perceive it. And if I were to attempt to explain my perception to you, you come to it with your own and are thus biased (whether for or against mine).

Thus the question: is anything objective?

Well I don't want to get into that, but perceptions...

Perceptions make life interesting. Differing perceptions make life worth living. I would hate a world where everyone saw things the same, or rather everyone was sitting on my lap as the metaphor has it.

Some perceptions are annoying. Damn annoying. Others are admirable. Some are just unheard of. And still others are completely and utterly unique, but so profound that they catch you off guard.

In class we were talking about a story where a woman put a down payment on an abortion ($5 down payment, ha! still makes me laugh...) and Garton explained that it could be seen as admirable if it was used as a threat in order to get the man to shape up. I vocalized my agreement to this statement (that it was understandable, not that it was right). Hosanna objected and said the fact that the family didn't have the money to give their son 50¢ made the down payment/idea of a threat reckless and immature. I realized that I had not thought of that factor, granted I had only stated that I could see how the use of the abortion as a threat could be seen as noble, still it bothered me that I had failed to look at the issue from this perspective.

Small? Yes. Petty? Definitely. It still stuck with me and got me thinking about all these different angles I fail to see and factor in.

I realize I'm naïve at times and I'm fine with that (by fine I mean I acknowledge it and am working on it), I don't know...

Distractions.

There comes a time when life becomes too overwhelming. When things begin to wear you down to the point where you just want to scream because your emotions/mind/whole body is telling you that something is not right. If you're like me, and you've spent the last three years training yourself to never lose control in anger or even break down and cry, these times can be extremely difficult as there is no way to get rid your emotions.

As a writer, I typically turn to poetry.

Rocky Votolato sings:

"Caught me looking through you're eyes,

No, I'm not doing alright

I'm just as stupid and desperate as I've always been

All this uselessness I write

Just come at me with a knife

Come cut this sickness from my mind

Help me forget about a shattered lie

Bleed my failure into something right."

("The Night's Disguise" from the album "Makers")

I always sing "Help me forget about a shattered life," but apparently that's wrong and I just learned that. I like my line better, frankly. :) I love this chorus (I love this song, I love this album, greatest album of all time in my book) because I feel like this so often. Some of my favorite bits are "No, I'm not doing alright," "All this uselessness I write," "Just come at me with a knife/Come cut this sickness from my mind," and "Bleed my failure into something right." Ok so that's almost the whole chorus, but I said it was one of my favorite songs so, give me a break.

For me, recently, I have learned the value of distractions in these times of desperation and utter emotional/mental/physical retreat. Mainly I turn to stories. Television mostly because I can relax. Many, many times books, don't get me wrong I'm still an English Major, c'mon. Often I turn to music.

Many times I find people to be a distraction. Friends for coffee or a movie. Sometimes just in thought a person can be a distraction.

The point? No point. I ramble. Forgive me if I talk a little wild. Not like anyone reads this anyway. :) These are my thoughts.

Now, I need a distraction. Pizza and the season premiere of How I Met Your Mother? Yes. Please.

And the Most Bad-Ass Line of the Year Award goes to...

Castiel (from the TV series Supernatural)

for saying, "I'm going to find God" in last weeks episode.

And the Greatest Sheep Impression of the Semester Award goes to...

Professor Natalie Hewitt

for Baaaaaaaaing in reply to "And what does BA stand for, Mrs. Hewitt?"

Sigh. I'm Not That Strong Yet...

I just wrote a post that none of you will see, because I can't be that honest.

I can't be that real.

And I wish that I could, but I can't.

This helped though. Thanks, Glen.

Evolution Week to Week//The Progression of Movement

I am an incredibly analytical person.

I am incredibly self-reflective.

I spend much of my time pondering actions (others and my own) and reflecting on what they (I) do and what it means about their (my) personality.

I'll be honest.

Most of my thought time is spent pondering myself. Thinking about why I think the way I think, why I do what I do, and whether I feel that in the eyes of God it is an acceptable action or train of thought.

I fail at this often.

Not in the weighing whether God would be pleased or not, but that God wouldn't be pleased with what I do.

For those of you that knew me when I was in high school (and for those of you reading this [if any] that means none of you), you know I was a very different person.

I was talking to an old friend about this last night. I asked her if there was anything about myself that she thought I should fix. She told me that the one thing that she had always tried to help me mature past I had already fixed.

To a degree.

She said that she had always tried to get me to become confident, and to be confident with myself enough to not care what others thought and to just have fun.

Again, for those who didn't know me, I used to be an extremely uptight, prudish person, who was extremely self conscious. Extremely.

Many (I use that word loosely when referring to my blog readers) of you may now be making the joke "used to!?! Ha!" Whatever... :)

Seriously though. I have relaxed a lot since then. And it's because of a lot of different things that have happened to me in the last two years.

The first thing I would relate this to was my trip to Europe. I traveled to Europe the summer of 2007, right before college, with 50 people I had never met and traveled to 8 different countries in 2 weeks on a bus. Now, the company I went with was aimed at people 18-30 years old. So safe to say I was with a bunch of partiers.

Not my forte.

Still really isn't.

But I'm much different now when it comes to those types of people and those situations than I used to.

If you want to know more about this trip, I have many stories about awkward situations and funny encounters that are still very non-Nathan.

The next post-it on my descansos timeline, I would say, was my freshman year.

Specifically, my roommates.

Living with the three guys I was forced to stay with taught me a lot, and really massaged this idea into my brain of relaxation and chillness. I really attribute my recent lack of anger issues (another thing I used to struggle with a lot) and the limited patience I now have (which is still leaps and bounds more than I had before) to them.

I really had a tough time that year in my room, but now I wouldn't trade it for anything. All those long nights of asking them to turn down the TV because it was 3 in the morning and I was trying to sleep...

Sigh.

Good times.

This next pin-point is more spread out and really comes before my Europe trip and extends till today. It's also the most vague point I will make.
And this is it: love.
Various love encounters (and very much so lack thereof) have really shaped my thoughts, my emotions, and my contentment when things are out of hand (which if you read my blog semi-regularly, you know really bugs me. See "Frustrated With Rocks...").

There have been plenty of girls in the last 6 years that in one way, shape, or form taught me more than I could ever put into words and perhaps more than I will ever know.

For that, I thank you.

The last post-it would be labeled: "Surgery"

My surgery this last winter gave me so much time to chill and relax. I had to. There was nothing else for me to do. I really think that those 6 weeks changed me a lot more than I realize. As well, I think getting my jaw fixed (and more recently my braces off ) has increased my confidence and comfortability with what I look like. Which directly reflects on how I act.

Anyway, I say all of this because I realize how many mistakes I make. And how often I completely screw things up. And how much more work I have to do. I know I will never be perfect, but it is still something I have to keep in mind. Because what I do, what I say, the look I give has more of an effect than I can possibly imagine.

At Clash 'n' Bowl last week I was nominated for King and had to walk down the red carpet and show off for everyone how awful (amazing) I looked. When I was standing in line, my thought was "I have to go all out, I have to just forget all these people are watching and just have fun. I have to." So I did, to the best of my ability.

I'm not really sure if I was amazing...

Actually I know I wasn't because I didn't win. Well, that might not have had to do with my strut (though it was amazing) and more to do with the fact that when it came time for everyone to cheer for their pick, I didn't egg anyone on. Ok, I'll strut and show off but I'm not going to beg for your cheers. Sorry, I still have my pride. :) So I just stood there and smirked.

Obviously my nonchalance was not what people were looking for. But I knew that.

But I'm really proud of myself for doing it as well (or not) as I did.

But it's little things like that that I take as a victory. My next goal: dancing. I am so self-conscious about dancing in public, at dances, whatever. So my new goal is to, once again, go all out. My aim is seriously to be as carefree as Niall when he's at dances (see Josh's Wedding, sorry no link, just ask someone, he was having so much fun).

I can't do that. It's difficult for me, but I'm working on it. And I've come so far, so I'll just give it time and it'll come. Baby steps, right? (see What About Bob?)

Also, and I realize this is a huge blog, thanks for bearing with me. Well, if you have...

Anyway, I also along these same lines have been thinking about the fact that I had so many plans for this year that were canceled on me.
The first being going to England. That didn't work out. Various reasons.
Then RA. Well, I don't even want that now. Wouldn't work out. They were right not to pick me.
And then the internship at 826 Tutoring Center in Echo Park. Which again, didn't work out.

Ever since I found out that I wasn't going to have any of those things, I have wondered, "What is my next year going to be like? Should I think that this is an opening so that God can do something awesome? Or am I just putting God in a box he doesn't belong in? AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"

But I'm a fatalist when it comes to some things. "It is what it is. No worries" (see window sticker of truck in Hope parking lot, that little piece of plastic and adhesive got me through a lot of tough times).

So I don't know what this year holds. What's going to happen. But I'm interested. And I hope it's something interesting and fun, that I won't expect.

We'll see.

I'm ready.

Whenever it comes...

Thanks for listening...er reading.

Born to...Definitely Not Work at Gap

So I got a job at Gap this summer, it's only supposed to be seasonal, but my manager said that it may turn part-time depending on how their quarter goes. I went through a myriad of different emotions about the job. Somedays I love it, other days I just like it, some days it's whatever, and then frequently, I hate it. Lately it's been better, but now that school has started I realize how difficult it is to juggle two jobs (Gap and 'Brary), school, life (family, friends, eating, etc etc etc), and writing...

Writing!

AH!

I need to do that...

But anyway, Lisa Hare came to Gap a few weeks ago and she talked to my manager and if you know Lisa, you know that she is a very energetic fun person. So she mentioned to one of my managers how "great" I am, and my manager said "Yeah, he's one of our best new workers." Awesome! Right?

So I'm not sure what I would do if they offered me a part time job? Probably ultimately take it since I like getting checks for $300+. And then in addition to the brary? That's like $500 every two weeks. Not bad not bad.

Is not a bad thing if every time I do something wrong or have to ask a stupid question or feel like an inadequate worker for whatever reason, I take a little pride in it? Oh well...

So, work's fun, but we'll see.

Frustrated with Rocks and Failing at Hard Places...

I've realized the last few days how much I enjoy problem solving. I had to change a light bulb at work, but it was one of those artsy-mini ones that can point in a million directions so I had no idea how to unscrew any of it. And it took me a while to figure it out. I began to think about all the different little projects that I have enjoyed figuring out, typically things I have had to build (don't get too excited, they've all been furniture pieces that I've followed the directions, ie desks, tables, chairs, etc etc etc. Nathan still does not do physical activity, save for walking, and not just from A to B but also as a leisurely activity).

Anyway, the thought progressed to "Man, I really enjoy problem solving in general. Laying out an issue and figuring out each part so to complete the entire thing. That's probably why I'm a writer..."

And then, the thought became "Oh my god! I hate when the solution to a problem is 'wait' or 'you can't do anything.'"

And now I'm frustrated with problems that have solutions that are "waiting" or are "out of my hands."

That's it. That's my rant.

Short

Sweet

To the point

...? Maybe not.

Realized I hadn't written in a while, so thought I might jot a bit.

I'm also frustrated with gravity, but that's a different rant, and also most likely more to blame on my clumsiness...