-Oscar Wilde

Let’s give a hand for ordinary top 40 soft rock bands who step up to the plate and release a genuinely beautiful and well put together album. This one is for you, One Republic.

Lately I’ve made a few observations.
1) I keep going to bed later and later each night. The typical thing to say here in this situation is “my mind is too loud for sleep/my thoughts keep me up.” But that’s a lie. They don’t. Actually, I’m mostly brain dead throughout the day. I think about whatever I’m doing at the moment, what I’ll change into when I get out of my silly uniform, what music I’ll listen to on my lunch break, and that’s about it.

2) I keep having these urges to dance everywhere. Today I ran smack-dab into someone that lived on the floor below me while i was footloose’ing my way down the stairs. Sometimes I literally bop around base, hippin’ and hoppin’ and johnny rockin’. What’s up with that?

3) How is it that once you learn about something, suddenly it’s everywhere? Just HOW many films is Rob Corddry really in? All of them, it seems. Which makes a person think, just how many things are around me very single day that I plain don’t notice? I was reading today about Eidetic memory. They say it’s such a burden. But what if they’re just incredibly enlightened due to their ability to account for every second of every memory? Does that lump ‘enlightenment’ in with ‘burdensome’ and how does that bode for the typical belief system? I’ve heard, and experienced, that our minds and body tend to push out bad things. Some suppress. But most just cover the wound with new-ness and we give all the credit to “time” and it’s “healing powers” but really it’s just a defense mechanism to keep us blissful and dazed with the excuse that we learn from our mistakes but by the point we get to re-acting, the pain from it is so dulled that I think we often say to ourselves “well, it wasn’t so bad.” BUT WHAT IF you could remember everything? Would you have a heart attack at the immensity of it all? Would you develop a secondary defense mechanism to make up for the lack of defense mechanism? Jesus. I get dizzy thinking about all of the things I could be missing out on that are right in front of my face. I very barely have just started to grasp a slight understanding of past and future time. I can’t begin to imagine the potency of the present.

3 is a good number. 3 observations is plenty and 3 is one of those numbers that’s almost even. Because 3 turns a mingle into a party. 3 is the first step. And so is this. So is all of this. Always.

Maybe you’re the only one who can tell me how to become a true pro anti-world. See, I’ve had it all wrong the whole time. Hollywood is right. You never go full retard. Because here you are, saving the world and preaching self-sustainment, the comfort in chaos, the undeniable right to question everything. You have savior running through your veins and your skin is soaked with disappointment and overcome’ings, but at the same time, you’re married with a beautiful child. How does the unrested settle down? Because I’ve been sitting over here this whole time, looking at people like you as an example, telling myself there’s no fear in walking the world alone and I believe you believe that. But you managed to believe it and also ignore it because you did the one thing I can’t do— find happiness and calm-ness and other words that end in “ness” and are generally positive. You said that everyone wants to save the world but no one wants to die, and you were wrong. I’d die. I’d do it. I value life, don’t get me wrong. I’m in no way dead-bound. But I’m not going to lie and say that if the news announced in the morning that the world was going to end in approx 30 days that i wouldn’t be happy. Think of the clarity that comes with the absence of consequences! 

I digress.

These past 5 days have been the best days of my life I think so far. I couldn’t even imagine better. Like really. Even if I was a space-being that ate people’s imaginations and then absorbed it’s powers and created Kubric-like dreams, EVEN THEN I couldn’t imagine a better 5 days. That’s all. I just really need to say that, and friends are overrated.

These are just the strangest of days. British-tv-show strange. George-W.-Bush’s-dog-paintings strange. The world is strange. Cereal costs more than gas. Some big president guy thinks it’s a good idea to cut education expenses and pay congress 6 figures. Tuesdays have become better than Sundays. The film industry is running out of fairytales to remake and the music industry is telling us that it’s okay to live forever, live forever young until tomorrow when taxes are due. Breakfast is for champions but dinner is for fatasses unless there’s wine involved. People, myself sometimes included, sit around “pinning” things to nonexistent places about all the things they want to make and do and places they want to go and people they want to be. No one does anything anymore, and the ones that do are never around long enough to share the secret.

i love my life, I’m not trying to sound sad. I’m just pointing out things about this part of the world. (Except I do really miss going home.) 

I don’t really have a point. I just wanted to say that. And a lot more that I don’t know how to put down just yet. Stay tuned.

I didn’t have an affair with a married man. Or work a ticket booth. I do live in California but that’s not me. 

However, someone did. And that’s what this is about. 

Sometimes I wonder how parenting works. For instance, this all ties in with what I’ll say at their funeral. Does my father love playing piano? Is that his real passion, the thing he’d still do if my mom and I had never happened? He’s never said. He’s done it for his entire life. Maybe that’s saying enough? What was his dream? What was my mothers? She almost went to a magnet school for science before she became pregnant with me. Was it that? Was it building the beautiful home? 

The reason I ask is because I want to know what they did that taught me to dream so much. To forget the stars and shoot for the next galaxy over. To never think anything was impossible. Was it their dreams or was it their lack of dreams? 

You know, an argument could be made in favor of me being a bad person. People make that argument all the time. I don’t always make the right choices. And life isn’t a tv show. People don’t always give you the opportunity for you to show them the ways you’ve got their back. The lengths you’d go through. The little things you notice about them. I know I’m a good person. My parents taught me that. And I wish I knew how. I want to know so that I can teach other people that. 

We all have “walls”. Defenses. And they make us do stupid things. Like run away, or tell people they never mattered when in fact they mattered a whole world-ton. But lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what being an adult means. My life is getting really adult-like. I’m not upset about that. When you’re protecting your country, it’s kind of a given that you’d need to grow up, you have to stand up a little straighter. And when you’re having to fit your whole life into a set of suitcases for the next few years, you have to take a good hard look at what’s important and trim the fat. Had someone (person or nation) asked me to do this a year ago, I’d have scoffed, nervously laughed, and said “stop being gay, dude.” But I accept it now. I don’t know how or why. And I feel like there’s someone to thank for that but I can’t quite put my finger on it. All I know is that people are only impressed for a moment when you tell them you had an affair with a married man, or you used to work a ticket booth where you watched people watching music history, or you lived in california for a while. None of that changes who you are to them though. What does, is when you lead a really happy life.  When you’re an example to people that were taught to have dreams. When you realize that dreams change and are able to let go of what isn’t relevant any more. (The jet set life is going to kill you.) That’s when you’re impressive.

I’m so used to saying I’m sad. It’s old hat-habit. But I’m not. And I just wanted to say that. And to Peter Pan: Don’t worry, I’ll never grow up. At least not in the way that’s so bad. I think it will always take a lot of youth to be happy.