These are the days of my life [entries|friends|calendar] The Spaz [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

Finding My Voice [05 Jun 2008|01:02am] [ mood | awake ] The first epistle to those who will hear I hope deeply that the new found silence inside myself, the ability to think clearly whenever I wish, to focus completely, will not leave me. I know that through the strenuous work and habitual developments I have begun to lay the groundwork of, I will strengthen and hone that focus back into the tool it once was. As a child I had an expert level of skill with this tool; Be it in my pretend play at war that unfolded from cushion to cushion and couch to couch in my family's home, my ability to apply myself to school work, or the hours I spent amending the blueprints of construction toys to reflect machinery I liked the function of much more. Alas, and certainly woe is me, somewhere in the intermission between childhood and true puberty, this well known and loved tool was left out and forgotten. This immeasurably important tool met the same fate as countless others I was responsible for, like those from my Father's tool box. Laid aside, ignored, forgotten, even lost and when finally located (if ever), to be found rusted, weakened, less pleasant to hold, to wield, to work with. At what point did I lay aside this tool which I so loved? What effects has that had on me. I wonder if I will ever pinpoint the moment or event that signifies it, or if it is even something that could be located behind so many closed doors and locked up hidey-holes in the subconscious. As I understand it now, through the looking glass, it was more a series of events and happenings in my life that led to this tool being misplaced, not just one event. The pain, not physical, at least not in the manner which most remember from their childhood, the loneliness, the cold. Most would immediately assume I speak of my parents now, BUT no, they had little if anything to do with it. My parents were good and honest people; this is no lie to anyone, or myself for that matter. They worked as hard and as best they could, I never went hungry, never went to bed favoring a leg or arm, even my numerous siblings were nice to me, despite many short comings, no despite having the naivety of youth govern so many of my actions. No the pain, separation, cold, and eventual shutdown of so many things inside me. It all stemmed from something wholly separate, something that throughout my childhood, there was a struggle to change. My Ear. My ear, 14 surgeries and 14 hardships, 5 years of braces and at the end of it, people still would ask me what happened. "What happened to your ear?" "What happened to your ear?" "What happened to my ear?..." Who really knows what happened, who is capable of saying? Was it a genetic misfire during a very specific division of cells when the left side of my face was developing. Something in the air? The water? Something in my parents body's? There was no history of birth defects in the family, Twins yes, both sides, but not defects. The most terrifying solution ever offered was that this was a challenge given to me, set before me by GOD!!! That somehow stated that in today's day and age, some need challenges greater then others. Or deserved challenges greater then others; in Christian religions at least, this explanation should exist. Christ died for our sins on the cross and atoned for Adams transgression. The slate is clean, the way ahead is clear. Why on earth would god then allow a child to be born with anything other then a perfect body, but I digress I know my being born with one ear has nothing to do with God. Originally the questions, when posed directly to me, were as innocent as the children asking them. Eventually though, the questions about how and why I was different underwent a metamorphoses, now later in my life a highly perceptible change, a maturation, they became slightly less questioning and certainly more demanding, among other things. In the way only a child seems to be able to employ words, unknowingly, in imitation, the simple question, velvet and smooth as it left the tongue, now contained barbs, spikes, sharp corners that were only found with the tenderest patches of skin. For all the world, like a thousand paper cuts, their evolved questioning. They learned how to get different answers, different reactions. Eventually my answers evolved, changed, to meet their new questions. I acted out in small ways, I wore different clothing, listened to different music, hung out with fewer people. I suited up in armor. Armor I still wear, that still protects me, that limits my motion, prevents me from growing. Armor that consists of pieces I chose as well as pieces others thrust upon me. I learned ways to avoid the spotlight, stopped being active, stopped trying to make friends and largely stopped talking to those I had. I changed my life, adapted to fit more quietly. It was simply safer this way, if I did not get in the pool, I suffered no chance of getting wet, being uncomfortable. I could suffer no harm behind my armor. Certainly there were chinks, but in my imperfect understanding, those chinks were a weakness that simply required more heat and work to remove. As I found the heat, the fire, the ways I could further remove myself from social obligation and now I realize growth. I aided those around me, those that meant nothing, in increasing my suffering. Oh the armor improved, so much so, that for a long time they could not get in, and inversely I could not get out. I could not focus on what I wanted; I could not imagine who I would become. I could not grow up. Because the solution I had found, to deal with being different, was to rely on that difference, to dwell on it. To let it take control of my direction, to let it determine what I was capable of. The difference between all others and myself was now much less my ear and much more that behind my armor, my protection, I ignored the outside world and I thought I liked it that way. I did not learn to incorporate the differences I had from others around me into ways to make myself better, to rise above it. I did not learn how to function despite that difference. I told myself I was handicapped with just one ear. That was the breastplate in my armor, an infallible truth in my mind for many years to come. Why else would so many people ask questions about it, why else would they be so interested? I must be handicapped, I am not capable. However having one ear really meant very little then, as a child I could think, walk, run, and create, just like anyone else, even better then other people in some ways. It matters almost nothing now, only that stereo headphones are useless, headphones in general are uncomfortable, and loud rooms make it difficult to hear individual sounds. Not so different from others and certainly not a handicap. Who cared I had one ear, certainly not the adults around me then, certainly no one now. Neither do I myself care that I have only ear, after all how I can I miss something I have never had. However because I could not face those children who thought less of me for having one ear, I turned in, putting up walls, fortifying myself against the battering storm I largely imagined. What I did to myself by shrinking in rather then growing outward…. No analogy would give such a terrible act of self loathing a voice capable of conveying the depth of it. I equated myself to being useless because I could not stand to call attention to myself any further then my ear and the armor I had fabricated already did. If I had continued to focus and applied myself at the level on I am intimately aware I can, I would have stood out in a way that terrified me. This reservation still holds today. In fact each day I wake, I fight it off. I am searching for a way to be rid of it permanently. Though that puts the cart before the horse, I still courting it, discovering which parts may yet serve a use… The armor grew around me as my body did, but my mind, my understanding of the world around me suffered for its strength. I was bright, intelligent, quick to learn. But it was all for naught, because I could not be comfortable. For the fortress I had built, the armor I had crafted, kept anyone form getting in, and myself from getting out. And there it is, I discarded my tool because I had allowed the world around me to insist that because I had only one ear I had less to offer. Never mind Steven Hawking, nothing he has to say holds water; he's in a wheel chair. The armor is coming off piece by piece, it is being judged. Perhaps nothing will remain and I will stand naked before the minds eye, though after standing behind it for so long it is not such an easy thing to leave behind. It hides a lot of empty space, holds some strength, though not truly useful it holds great temptation. My rusted tool is in my hand and with it, I have a new Response to an old question. "What happened to your ear?" "Nobody knows…" I think I will find many answers to old questions in the coming years. Perhaps answers for questions i already thought answered. 2 comments|post comment

Teeth.... [04 Jun 2008|09:49pm] [ mood | confused ] Somethings are inherently wrong in the world. The movie teeth, for example, I am sure in many eyes is one of them. Personally after having watched the film, I am left stunned, amazed and baffled. I really think if Christians and conservatives in general wanted to prevent kids from having pre-marital relations, Teeth should be required viewing material. There might need to be some editing, but after all if the devil can twist the lords words to his own devices why not god use the devils? Watch it here: http://www.watch-movies.net/movies/teeth/ Use the mirror listed in the center to stream the film, decent bandwidth so it made for a pretty decent stream. Amazing.... post comment

Fleshing out, Falling in... [14 May 2008|04:42pm] [ mood | determined ] [ music | Metric ] Fleshing out: Three months ago I quit my job at Comcast, and hopefully the corporate lifestyle for at least a short time. Since quitting i have found myself removed from my shell, my normal mask, my armor or any number of hokey and possibly very colloquial or private terms for simply growing up a little. I changed the layout to my apartment, realizing in the process that the tv will no longer be central to my living experience. Picked up my guitar, finished a major art project, started several others and have seen the inside of my apartment so infrequently I forget where things are in the kitchen when i cook. I canceled cable... Falling in... Within the past month I have become acquainted with a largely new group of people and have seen something of a different side to the town i grew up in. Simultaneously i had several very personal experiences that have left me a little stunned. One being a realization that nice things I feel I need, have largely been acquired to in some small way impress someone. In other words, even the current layout of my apartment, and most definitely the past layouts have been an attempt to use my apartment as a status symbol of some sort, "a cool pad." Which is not so bad, so long as said "cool pad" reflects who i am. More art, more projects about and most of all clean and predominantly tidy. From here? Shit, i feel like i just found my reset button, i am just looking forward to the Summer Trip. 4 comments|post comment

stuck in a cycle [19 Jan 2007|10:38pm] [ mood | depressed ] [ music | None, for once ] So here I sit In my dining room, smoking hookah, relaxing and trying to decompress. My live-in girlfriend has just told me that the reason I have not met many, well any of her friends, is that I am too out there, to loud and without center to be introduced among them. As a quick update to those who may not know, towards the end of last October I was lucky enough to meet a fellow Rivethead by the name of Dexter, we hit it off and got along famously. Just about six weeks after meeting she moved in due to health issues and several other erroneous events in each of our lives. It has been interesting and difficult at times, but we make each other happy and feel much better at each other’s sides then apart. At this point, nearing three months I can say that I am in love with her. Such an interesting statement and predicament being in love is. So back to the story at hand; for whatever reason she does not want to introduce me to her friends. Yet I am fit enough to share a bed with her and she to live in the same house with me. Something here is a little strange. Am I wrong to feel that she has labeled me as a social pariah? She assumes that I am loud and rambunctious, to be liberal with terms, all the time. Yet we have been in no position for her to see otherwise. I believe she thinks there is no side of me that is spiritual, or calm. Though those who know me can attest that this is not the case. Yes I am loud and sometimes quite uncouth, though that is me on the surface and not what is found below. I would like to think I am a kind, considerate, and compassionate person and my parents certainly agree. As I am sure many who know me would agree with that statement. I am quick to give help, I give of myself freely when I can and I truly hate to cause people distress, though when I do I cannot help but kill with kindness. Perhaps she views herself as a better person then I? At times like this I cannot help but think I am not being told the full truth. Its rather frustrating to have been sharing a bed with someone for two months who does not really want to tell you the whole truth in matters. What am I to do? It seems like I found myself in similar directionless situations in the past, good to have a better sense of social tact. Then again that is something so foreign to me I would not know where to start looking for it. on a side note: I just watched the trailer for a movie Called "the number 23." Jim Carrie takes the role of protagonist and it looks interesting to say the least. The films content is based around what is called the "23 enigma." Pretty interesting stuff no matter how you view it. Bit it as proven fact or just another conspiracy theory. post comment

copious and its best uses [17 May 2005|11:25pm] [ mood | amused ] [ music | nothing right now, odd ] This is from a conversation with my friend sleeptodream83 magicalmysterytour110 : anyways, they're making me want to smoke copious amounts spazboi86: lol spazboi86: i use the word copious all the time spazboi86: and amalgamated magicalmysterytour110 : me too magicalmysterytour110 : it's a great word spazboi86: my favourite use has to be when it is associated with sex spazboi86: copious and sex just belong with each other magicalmysterytour110 : yeah magicalmysterytour110 : they do magicalmysterytour110 : one could make a tongue twister of sorts magicalmysterytour110 : cooper copulated copious amounts of cum magicalmysterytour110 : i sound like a 14 year old boy in locker room magicalmysterytour110 : although they probably wouldn't use the word copious spazboi86: you just made me happy magicalmysterytour110 : oh and copulated doesn't make sense magicalmysterytour110 : but it sounds good spazboi86: lol magicalmysterytour110 : oh cooper copulated creating copious amounts of cum spazboi86: thats going on my life journal spazboi86: lol magicalmysterytour110 : life? magicalmysterytour110 : or live? spazboi86: both life is good today post comment

Stuck at work, contemplating moving... [08 May 2005|12:11pm] [ mood | GRRRRRR ] [ music | Shitty station on Sirrius (not my decision ] So i am looking at the thrid move in 7 months. I moved out of my parents house in october of last year to a filthy hovel in tualitin. It was not filthy cause it was a shitty place it was filthy beacuase it had most recently been occupied by 3 children and a fulltime working mother. yeah that lasted till the power turned off, which was conviently a holiday weekend. so a month and a half after i move i get fucked out of my last months rent, and utilities. I say fucked cause i still have not been paid back for it, oh wells good bye to that. So the adventure and after moving from beaverton and the familiar suburbs i spent a month in hell, from there i went to felony flats. Or to those of you not familiar with the lingo, SE portland. That is the area between 50th and 100th east/west and from powell to otty north/south. How it gets it name? well about 75% of the residents in the area are fellons. not to mention that every other house is involved in some sort of drug, mostly meth. It would be entertaining to see how many houses would blow if one went off. So now, my roommate who is also my sister has confided in me that she is at a point in her life at which she wants to live alone. So i am off again hopefully the next place i move in to i will be in for awhile. post comment

[06 Mar 2005|01:07pm] [ mood | bitchy ] [ music | Stupid hits station ] Fuck i hate the computers at work, just spent 15 minutes writing a really bitchy post and the page randomly refreshed, fucking shitwhore slut cunt! So the short and abrigded version: sitting here in the empty mall,. in my empty store, conversing on the morality of all three of us being on the clock and not doing anything. Its sunday, hope the church rush is good. Stupid little christian fucks go to church worship their lord, put in their time and return to their everyday bullshit, lucky if they havve dedicated two hours to their "god." When in all reality money is their real god or they would not be able to find a way to justify spending three hours in this god forsaken place. What really scares me is that there are people who have very externally obvious rituals associated with their visits to the mall. For example: Chauncy, probably visits my store 4 times a week and everytime without fail, his hands are greasy from the pretzel he is eating and their is a dribble of some aweful frozen coffe drink in the corner of his mouth. He then prettles on about the great wealth of electronics he has and his issues with his ex-wife. God people irritate me. there is one benefit to working in the mall, i get to keep up with all the current fashions that are being displayed by prepubescent fucks who think my store is a playground. Like damn snow boots tha started out as brown leather. I have now seen them in lime, purple, red, and black. Unfortunately changing the color did nothing to the fact that they look god aweful to begin with. I am a fan of boots, i wear 14 hole docks, inspiration from my older brother who wears 20 hole gripfast and docs almost everyday. There is nothing attractive or fashionable about looking like you have kankels. Though from what i understand fat is back. post comment

its official , my brother is something of a god. and other stuff [05 Mar 2005|09:37pm] [ mood | annoyed ] [ music | Snog - valley of the proles ] So I called up my brother tonight, have not talked with him in about three weeks and he proceeds to inform me that he has a met a girl. I am initially very happy for him. then i see her pictures, now I am plain envious. Somehow through a strange twist of events my brother is surrounded by beautiful people. Gorgeous, intelligent women seem to swarm to him like bees to honey. What’s your secret? Please god, share it. Anyways, had a good day today, got to see a close friend who had a kid recently. It really never ceases to amaze me what having a kid will do to a girl. She looks better then I have ever seen her. There is this fire in her eye when she looks at her baby, something like I am going to give you the best possible. I just hope that the kid is alright she did not know she was pregnant till 5 months along. She was a pretty heavy drug user up till she found out, not to mention loads of alcohol. On a different note entirely I have been battling insomnia for the last week I have about 12 hours of sleep for the past 4 days, here is hoping that I can knock myself out tonight post comment

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