Masquerade

As is human nature, we tend to go around wearing masks all the time. When do we take them off? I paint mine on every morning and take it off before bedtime, if I'm not too tired. But do we often leave our masks on for days and nights at a time? Do we then put another mask on top of the old one? Mask upon mask? What is it like when you put your mask on? What is it like when you take it off? As for myself, I'm always very relieved to take mine off. But soon after, I start to get uncomfortable. Like I'm more transparent, like I'm not as pretty without my mask. But that's only what the world will tell you. The important people tell you the truth, which says otherwise. So why don't we listen to the truth? What's so hard about taking your mask off and simply not putting it back on or throwing it away period? Is it a thing of pride, a thing of deception, or simply a thing of comfort? My mask is full of endless color; I don't like wearing it for too long, especially when the colors turn drab. It's hard for me to be without it sometimes. What kind of mask do you wear?

Day's Eye

Anyone that really knows me, knows that the Daisy is my favorite flower. There is just something about them that makes me smile and gives me a feeling of contentment. I've always thought that they must have interesting lives. They seem so enchanting, so full of mystery that nobody would really think about because of how simple and maybe even plain they come across. I once read somewhere that there are over twenty-thousand types of daisies in the world. Interestingly enough, not only are there so many types within the genus, but some of them are in our gardens and are main components to the salads we eat, some are "weeds" in our yards, and others are beautiful sights for us to behold during a relaxing stroll through the park. The name of the daisy flower comes from the medieval english 'daies ie', meaning day's eye because the flower opens up at sunrise and closes at sunset; hence it is the eye of the day. According to an old Celtic legend, the spirits of children who died in childbirth scattered daisies on the earth to cheer their sorrowing parents. What do you think a single daisy could tell you from just one day of life? I would imagine that it would have quite the story to tell if given the chance. Maybe we should pay more attention to these auspicious forms of life.

Random

It's like sometimes I become so enclosed, like I'm verbally and expressively constipated. And then eventually out of nowhere there's this explosion of phonetic diarrhea. Pardon, but that's pretty much the best way for me to describe it right now. I see so much power, so much success being held inside of me and I just don't know how to let it out. I think it's because I look at everyone else on the planet and think "Now that is talent. That is what the world needs. I could never provide that." So I move on with my life yet again, just watching from the sidelines, wishing all the while that I were out on the field being cheered for and adored. Where's MY niche? Do I even have one? Can I just make my own?

My life is one fabulous gift of wonder and awe, waiting to be snatched up and taken advantage of. But I haven't reached the clearing where I can see what it is exactly that I'm reaching for. How can one snatch up something they can't see? Pretty soon you just start snatching up everything in reach, hoping and praying that it's what you're supposed to find. And eventually you just have to stop, take a step back, and just let life be for a while.

Long Time, No Expression

To start things off, I'm going to say that in all honesty I am lacking the whereabouts of a huge part of myself. So here I am, back to say "Hey there! Long time, no Expression...!" which is a slight variation of a well known, overused phrase...but that's okay. I'm really just saying these things to myself. I don't expect for any of you, whomever 'you' may be...to benefit from my writings. It's more of a therapy session for myself. I think this is one of the most straight forward, non writing voice entries I will have submitted yet. Sometimes one just needs to be Frank. Even if your name is Bill or Joe or Marvin. Or Bethany.
My eyes are tired. My soul is heavy with feelings of sadness, fear, remorse, anxiety, and a sort of blase` yet melancholy feeling. My body is weary. Sleep is of no use to me until I am able to get to the root of what is causing all this.
It's time to buckle down, saddle up and ride hard.
Here we go again...

Lost In Translation

Darkness.

Noisy.

Fluidity.

Safety.

Helplessness.

These few words all have to do with the state in which we first start our lives. Some are pleasant sounding while others seem rather frightening. We enter the world already having experienced so many thoughts, emotions, feelings, only to be thrust into completely uncharted territory where we take the meaning of these words with us in order to find new ones and adapt those into our lives and figure out what they mean exactly and how to use them. So day after day, year after year you become bigger, stronger, smarter...while each day you progress (hopefully towards something greater), the circle is still being drawn and is continually growing closer to a close. As you are waiting for everything to come full circle...somewhere in the midst of this waiting period you suddenly become lost in translation, wondering where you are and how you got there. You find yourself at a stalemate of sorts.

Stalemate
–noun
1.
Chess. A position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check.
2.
Any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock


You go through life, day after day just doing your thing and it all builds up to a breaking point. Then one day while standing at a counter you realize that you're so burnt out and have breached that point of insanity and that 'it all' just simply doesn't matter anymore.


...Somehow, that makes you happy.


Realizing just how uneducated you are not just about life in general but about your own life, regardless of how long you've been in it, gives you a sudden outburst of hysterical laughter and though you are being shot funny looks from those around, you just simply don't care. Because you have found another part of yourself through losing it.


If anything, revision is always an option.

Take Me Home

Lately, I've been wondering if it's all I can do. My promise is forever with you.

I know you're probably trying to figure out what that means and where on earth it came from. Well I'm about to expound upon that beginning line - so all I ask is that you open up your mind and tune your heart and soul to not only hear what I am saying, but to feel what you need to feel, whatever it may personally be.
With each passing day, each moment, every single breath I take, I feel more and more the piling up of each trial being sent my way. And so I have been wondering, if it's all I can do to stay true. To stay faithful until my very last breath. But my promise, is forever with God...and with myself. My penance is constant, and my testimony is resolute. Though each day is yet one more day to struggle through, I know that God doesn't expect for me to be at the finish line in the beginning; but He does expect me to keep going no matter how much it burns, no matter how sick I feel at times. He does expect me to be running in the right direction. It will seem like the longest race you could ever imagine, and the temporal camera lens will zoom out making the finish line seem farther and farther away no mater how much you increase your speed. But in reality it will all be over in an instant, and you will have the success and glory to take with you through the eternities. There is, however, another thing to understand - the finish line is only the starting line of a new life where there will be a manifestation of all of your perseverance. In order to make it to the finish line, you can't give up. For any reason. Ever. No stopping to rest, because you will actually end up getting sicker and will not be able to go on. Nobody will stop running to grab you and pull you along with them. You have to push through the pain. You have to fight past the point of fatigue. Every time it hits. This is a race that it doesn't necessarily matter what your finish time is, but what does matter is that you do finish. You can't let yourself be left behind. Work hard, and be sure to fully lift your foot off the ground when you take that next step in the race. When you don't incorporate the things the Coach has told you to do, your feet will drag, your shoes will catch on the ground, and you will trip and most likely skin your hands and knees. But you can still get up and keep going. Band aids and cold electrolyte drinks are waiting for you later. Then when you've given it your all and crossed the finish line, you can relax completely, knowing that your parents that unconditionally love you will be there to gladly take you home in perpetual celebration.
So my point to all of this is that I want to say, with a huge smile on my face and tears of joy "Take me home." I want to make it to that finish line. I want my parents to be waiting for me with open arms, I want them to be proud, I want them to see that I was brave enough to finish the very race they not only sponsored, but went through themselves. They know exactly what it feels like to want so badly to just stop where you are and sit down in the middle of the track watching everybody else pass you by striving for the same goal. The hardest part, I think, is when you do keep going and you see others sitting down and giving up. But you must not follow suit. Keep going. Press forward. BELIEVE. Believe in YOU. You're not alone, even though right now you're on your own. You're not alone. The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want most for what we want at the moment. So don't stop, don't sit down to rest, don't trade the everlasting triumph for the momentary relief.

Raging Nostalgia...

So its been quite a while since I've taken time to write down my thoughts. I decided right now would be a perfect opportunity to take into my hands and project a bit of myself onto the screens of whoever reads this. If anything, I'm able to send my thoughts and feelings out into cyberspace where those thoughts can collect a bit of dust and age like a fine wine, waiting for others to taste it and add it to their own collection. The outcome of these blog entries is never predetermined, so it's interesting for me to see where I take myself at the end of each entry. Where was I when I began? Where am I now? As of late, nostalgia has been raging through my emotions as if there were no tomorrow. It's times like these when I realize that though growing up and being a part of this constant thing called life is a thrill and a journey to be enjoyed - even when you have to slosh through the mud and the muck for a while - my soul misses being a little child when everything was naively simple and never seemed to change much. It's the daily realization of moving on and certain things never being the same that gets me. I eventually have to play psychiatrist with myself and lean back and ask how I'm doing and what is weighing on my innermost self. When nostalgia hits, such as now, I wish I could tell more people to stop going through life so fast without stopping to fully enjoy what will soon pass on its own time. Time has no consideration for you...it moves on with or without you...