Any justifiable end(s)

it's been almost a month, and if I could print a receipt of my life I might be better suited to tell you all that has happened, but truth be told i haven't written much this year. And having not written has provided too many gaps where my faulty memories is true to fail. This year is the unlikely step child that no one anticipates any great success from. I feed on the negative, but after watching so many plans fall to the floor, i'd have to say I'm a little justified. Certainly there is anticipation on the onset of any new direction in life, any new adventure, but I have yet to categorize my current course in life as something lofty or adventurous.

I inadvertently researched "male depression" a few nights ago, and found it all to easy to believe everything I read. I wanted to call up a doctor to give me a few pills and make all my insufficiences disappear. But really it's a mindset, and something i have to work through. the following paragraph is what I wrote before I finished this current one, and a good example of why I seem to frustrate the hell out of myself...

I find myself performing a daily ritual where I combat the negative thoughts, where I shun the part of me that longs to be where the rock stars are, that curses myself for the practice habits that ruined my tendons, that wants to curse the world for cutting me short on something so fantastic. I think I knew from the start this would be my outcome, that I would get close enough to smell success like a perfume from a stranger on the street, but never really possess it. and now I'm dealing with the reality while I walk from my car to where I work at a fast food restaurant in the mid west.
.....................

I mean seriously? It's no wonder I hate what I haven't become, and in the process I just want to give up. But I know this isn't the end of the world, or the end of the line.

I guess I'm long overdue for high and lofty goals, impossible dreams, because those are what motivate me the most, not something I know I can accomplish. I know I can go to OSU, get a science degree, get a masters, go plunge an oil well in kansas the rest of my life and make enough money in investments to retire in 25 years, but where's the risk? where's the recklessness in that? what are the chances that it won't work out?

I can't work with that kind of stability.

Perhaps I'm at the crossroads where early adulthood collides with responsible adulthood. like saying goodbye to your toys when your 12 because your imagination suddenly changes gears.

A year ago I could not have imagined the circumstances that have brought me to where I am today. Where instability had no solution, I am forced into the solutions, but wondering if the means bring about any justifyable end. perhaps I am looking for only 1 end, and not seeing that "many possibilities" is, after all, a spectacular gift.

I still want to rock out, I play for 2 hours almost every day now and I know I'm so much more than what I'm doing right now, it's not just some lazy day dream. So i keep plugging away at it, hoping to maybe return to the music world, and that having a degree or the pursuit of it, won't sedate my passions.

It's about mindset, I can spot it a mile away with others, but to personally change my own is nearly impossible, just like trying to change someone else. perspective giving new shape and all true colors to any situation, i wish i had a dash more of the "positive" side of things.


An old friend once told me the best seasons in life are the least likely ones.

I'm working at chick fil a again, hoping to bridge the gap between school loans and living expenses this fall. I used to think of this job as degrading, but this store in Polaris doesnt treat us all like subservient half bred dogs.

less than 2 months until school starts, I'm still questioning whether i've given up on a dream, or whether the dream gave up on me.

sun is out and my coffee is hot...Here's to a good day ahead.

it seems my mouth is being clamped shut since april. Everything I want to say is a complaint, is hurt, is pain, anger, bitterness, confusion, exaggerated. so much is too sensitive and with what I've seen in the last 6 months, in myself, and in my family members, I am ashamed to even begin.

I guess I just need friends like I used to have, or maybe I need to be what I used to be, or just tired of being invisible.

toss your pedals in the pool, indie boy.

I failed my jazz experiment. most splendidly.

You see I'm a rock n roller who has a dash of bashfulness and dissuasion when it comes to large crowds, but when a modern band puts out an album worth listening to, something that motivates me whether in lyric or in musical structure and melody, my whole world lights up. Rather, it shines a new light on the book shelf of my life, my memories and demons and regrets, the few I harbor. I am moody, very moody, so when I listen to albums, I must be moved song to song, variations in the songs and genre, ideas desires, sacredness and profanity, are absolute necessities.
Which is why 2008 was such a bad year in my understanding for music. Only a few survived my list, and Shinedown and Lifehouse were on the top, mostly by themselves. One could say that music school makes you jaded, I believe you are converted and suddenly you can't stand musical defecation, pathetic indie boys, and dumb mountain men who spend albums devoting songs to friends and deer and billygoats.

To all you indie artists, I dare you, for one tour and one recording session, to leave your Line6 Delay and Reverb in your mothers basement in a nice box and see what you're really worth when you're plugged directly into an amp head and that sound is getting blasted at 100 db.
You're fans will hate you, your producer (you have a producer, right?) will hate you, you'll hate yourself and all the fast food joints you worked for that superfulous gear, but you might actually get better and learn to play your damn instrument. Leave the effects to the keyboards.

So yes, 2008 was a bad year for the album, for the guitar, for most of the industry really. Although the hit singles formula used last year was spectacular in it's success. Katy Perry's "I kissed a girl" and the like have set off a huge spree of triplet feel power pop/hip hop songs that haven't been heard since the eighties, so obviously it sells... good job finding a dry spot on the titanic.

all that pissing and moaning to say that lifehouse and shinedown put out really good works. I am most happy with lifehouse, because of the huge turn around they pulled in the face of their label. Their previous release was such pathetic ear candy I almost cried learning and singing one of their songs to an ex girlfriend who literally demanded I play the song before I left for college. Really, the song made no sense, no coherent chord formula, no coherent train of thought. and the album just got worse from there.
Not so with their newest release. Yes, pop music in it's truest sense, but well produce. And written with conviction and experience that I can actually believe and understand, or at least attempt to understand, connect with the author.

Shinedown? the sound of madness. just listen to it. Modern rock more or less is lacking in originality and soul, but this band is balls to the wall in ferocity and a sound so strong you cannot ignore it for long. A great way have they travelled from the days of "Us and Them."

I have already listened to another band releasing an album in June, I wont name them here, or even after their release, but it's been a long time since a new release has inspired me to play guitar, this album puts the fire under the tires.

I have high hopes for Wilco, and must check with some others on releases this year.


On to happy news. I have started playing guitar again, and should be up to an hour long routine in about 7 weeks. I have high hopes of returning to a 3 or 4 hour practice routine, daily. I don't know that I will be able to return to my marathon sessions, but a boy can dream, right?
My grip strenght has improved by over 140% in the last 2 weeks, I can perform my daily tasks without much inhibition or limitation. I can even use my playstion 2 now, which is a great relief and favorite pastime when I'm not reading, playing, annoying sara, getting drug all over cleveland by sara, or sleeping.

Oh, and I can type longer now as well. yay.

make love, make art, make friends, not nukes.

balue like jalazz

or other attempts to fill in the gaps of experiencing life by writing it in a softback book...

for those following my healing progress, I am almost done with my splint treatment. I have been under the supervision of a musculoskeletal surgeon named Dr. Balis who has been of great help and careful warning. I am in Occupational Therapy and will be through my treatment within a month or so. This is good news, and I am thankful that I will not be facing surgery and a year of long and tedious recovery.

My hopes of going professional as a musician have been laid to rest. At least for now. My body, in the current condition that it is in, cannot sustain the rigorous exercise of continual playing. I will be rebuilding my muscle mass in an attempt to gain better stamina in playing, and perhaps beat the odds that I am not biologically made to do what I really enjoy.

So in preparation of starting a regular guitar practice session, I have wiped my itunes clean, and am rebuilding my library with strictly jazz material. The only exception is the Beatles, and that's because they earned it and I cannot live without that music.

Jazz? what jazz? who jazz? why jazz? does anyone play jazz anymore?
I guess I can sum it up in this: I went to a contemporary music school in Hollywood only to discover that all you ever really need to learn to play is contained in the many styles of jazz. The chord changes, the melodies, the scales, the grooves are all encompassing of any other style I should want to play.

In some ways I'm turning into an Elitist of artist taste, as some would say. Really, I'm just tired of all the "Industry Bullshit" as the disenfranchised like myself go on and on about. So to Hell with all the pop fluff, I don't really care anymore because chances are that I will not be able to fulfill the regular duties of a performing professional musician. I'm going to surround myself with the sounds of as much jazz as I can stand, which sometimes isn't much. I have a hard time sitting through Chic Corea, and I really think he ruined "Marathon Man" by doing the soundtrack.

So watch out public libraries, I'm raiding your jazz collections in the name of personal vanity.

Passive Observation

I am not even sure which end to start from. It's 5:57 a.m. eastern, and I have already been up for over an hour. This must be what it is like to be a morning person, coming wide awake at ungodly hours of the morning, without the pain and the grogginess.

I pull off my ice packs and sigh deeply, which is code for " I hope I can type today, I hope my tendons don't give out before I even have time to form a thought and explain it."

You see, I've come to understand that if I speak, it must be with purpose, because the fool shouting in the dark does it very alone. But upon this new requirement of getting up on my soapbox, I begin to see I have a million question, about 400,000 suggestions, and only a handful of people that I could ever bounce these ideas off of.

What the blogging world doesn't need is another expose on the confused state of a twenty something who found his reality very upside down in this world. So maybe I'll just start by interpreting the life that I see.

I think I've been beat into submission from my tendinitis issues, like having the dross removed from the top, except the dross is very much needed, the element called passion. This tendinitis has robbed me of almost everything I truly loved, which isn't much, but two of those things are playing music and writing. When I mean play music, I mean practice my instrument for 6 to 8 hours a day, and when I mean writing, I mean consistently writing for almost two hours long hand on yellow legal pads.

I just began the art of making a pot of coffee.

I don't sleep heavily anymore, so I am familiar with waking up around 4 or 5, but I usually fall back asleep. I don't do mornings well. Often the noise of the birds in the stillness of the pre-dawn gray is astounding, the wall of sounds of nature and survival and evolution.
The morning choir was rather silent this morning, either the early spring is making for a lite attendance, or maybe it's Sunday and even the birds like to sleep in on the weekends.

The coffee is done dripping. I must go and partake of my eight 'o'clock brew.

oh k, back to where I was, bragging about my ability to isolate myself from people and practice art forms nobody cares to think about.

The long life of my 22 years, soon to be 23, I have been fortunate to find a few things that bring me serenity, full satisfaction. I don't believe most people find it, certainly many come close, but the vicious circle of our culture prevents many from fully grasping such an overall fulfillment.
At the precipice I was pulled back, in one swift morning I felt my left arm completely change, from agile and taught, to inflamed and fatigued, and then my right arm followed suit.

It was difficult, has been, difficult, rather. From being active in my life, I am left in splints, in a corner in a southern suburb of Cleveland simply observing the world go to hell on cnn, on the drudgereport, on the sidelines of bbc world report. It's is no less than maddening not being able to work, to drive, to open a jar, to use a pen, to play my guitar.

I live in a world of bored observation and I will be happy to go back to work and to school and go about my life and world without disability.

I'll go with saying this in my weeks of passive observation. If the news bothers you, it's time for a history lesson, a vison beyond your self conceived vision of nationality culture and time, a deep breath and the ability to let go. Everything that is happening has happened before, has turned out worse and humanity will go on, live your life and love the ones you hold dear and stand upon your true morals when man and government infringe upon your right to exist and so exist in a realm of reality. Turn on, tune in, drop out.

times have changed me

well, I moved back again. I am once again living under my parents roof. I must be brief in the coming month. My tendinitis forced me to quit MI this last quarter, and I moved back to Cleveland. Unfortunately my sister has suffered a severe injury, which at my mothers behest, has altered my course in life to stay at home for the immediate future to help look after my 2 oldest nephews.

this is how my life has changed. I don't have to manage bills anymore. I have my own room. And i dont have to walk to the grocery store every few days.

On the downside, the sun only shines 2 out of 7 days here, a complete change from shining all but 2 days in 7 months while i lived in hollywood.

I don't set my own schedule. And again, my privacy is severely restricted due to having so many people around.
My hands are not stabilizing, the inflammation is ceaseless.

But for the first time in my life I am living almost entirely for the use of others, not myself. What my family asks, I acquiesce, and certainly this is becoming difficult. But Already I am learning much from "my boys." I only hope the time I have with them sets them on the right path.

And of course, my Sara is back west, and everyday I hope she makes it here soon before I burst.

oh k, my hands are hurting. I'll try to post random life things, and to be more positive, as certainly my cynicism has gotten me nowhere in my life.

I think

I think I've lost my voice. I think this city is burning. I think I hear them voices calling.

I think the tourists like it hot. They messed this one up, I think, I'm going back.

I think I need cereal and Saturday morning cartoons again. I think It's more than the

easel in my mind can hold. I think ambiguity is all you need to know.

warehouses

In a few hours, I'll be headed out to the first real socializing event I have been to outside of school since arriving in March 08.

That's kind of sad. No, that is just sad.

I don't know where I learned to be so introverted, and perhaps it stems from many extenuating circumstances and events in the last 3 years. I'm not sure what to expect tonight though, as I am not really into the party scene, never have been, and don't really plan on it. I don't know how to act, if there is a way to act, or which way to turn, if this shirt looks like I stole it from kohls or a Gotham street vendor. If I disappear then maybe this is my confession.

I can't dance, I can't talk.
Only thing about me is the way I walk.
I can't dance, I can't sing
I'm just standing here selling everything.
-genesis (no, the band, genius)

On a lighter note, I'm getting ready to head into week 2, and my wrists are healing. I've been able to play about 7 hours in the last two days. That is significant improvement from the last 2 months. I still use an ice pack in the morning and at night, and combined with the NSAID that I'm on, It seems to be getting the job well done. I really did not want to move back to Ohio so soon, although I know I'll be heading back at the end of the year when MI is over.

Formality and Fantastical Scenarios

this year will be the fourth consecutive year of major life changes for me. The third year of which these choices were foreseen with plenty of time to conjure up the layout of the scenario. Funny how I can never act out the parts right in my head. If I could narrate how the future events unfold, I would perhaps be more satisfied temporarily, and probably forever frustrated.

I am on pins and needles as this new year starts. In a month I could be packing up the residence I just settled into, and moving back east side as a result of my gimp wrists. Or in a month, I could be blissfully buried in school work and able to play without pain, continuing on through MI as scheduled. I wonder if I somehow failed myself through all of this. Or rather, I don't want to feel like I failed myself through this injury. Perhaps what I am doing isn't the most wise decision, probably wasn't from the start up, but I made it without any doubt and I want to hold to it until the end.

While I don't know what will happen past September 25 of 2009, I really would like to have as few speedbumps as possible, as I'm sure we all hope for. But if last year was any indication of the future, '09 will be another series of metamorphic episodes.

It seems that everything I am working on, with, against, toward is dearly fragile, and ready to break apart without a moments notice, without eternities regard. Maybe just the nervous ramblings of an amateur, but so much seems all to uncertain at this point.

2008 was a hell of a year. I have lived on both coasts through the course, started a new school, got halfway throught the program. I've met a few people I can call friends while living in a Hollywood, but I can look anyone in the eye and tell them the East Coast was the first coast, and still is the best coast. I'll be glad when I'm living somewhere where I'm not getting nickel and dime'd for every little thing I have to do. These big cities are absolutely absurd, and in my defiance, I declare that I am too good this one called Los Angeles.

This year I learned that as usual, it is very difficult to figure out what it is I am after, what I am willing to do to get it. But I have learned that it is absolutely essential to discover what it is that I don't want, and am not willing to put up with and suffer through in the course of my life. Here are a few
a) roommates
b) rent that costs more than a mortgage
c) excessive pollution
d) lack of community
e) poverty
f) LAPD
g) dependant on public transportation
h) weak tendons
i) Sarah Palin
j) employers asking me about my sexual orientation upon inquiry for a job.
k) air mattresses
l) staring at the wall

some of these are more serious than others, but most of them entale a whole other collection of works explaining all the inner workings that create the circumstances that make the image of this list of things I'd rather do without.

I certainly, early on, didn't forsee who it is that I'm dating now, even though I've had so many people allude to its possibility. Admittedly, it was a leap of faith, into a realm left undiscovered in so very long. I guess sometimes we just need a shot in the arm, and a serious talking-to everyonce in a great while to make somethings precipitate into a happier ending.
A sidenote to my Cedarville girls in regard to regards to relationships: burn the rules, the cultural presuppositions that the guy is to be the only source of pursuit.
a) unrealistic
b) get off yourself
If sara hadn't given it another shot, and come right out and say what she wanted and needed, I would never have found room to reciprocate. Don't overcomplicate the simple things with needless formality and fantastical scenarios.


my arms hurt, so I'm signing off. I hope 2009 has a good ending, and perhaps an ending much different than I have loosely played out in my head.