this summer i lost more friendships that i thought i would. doesn't feel good. in some cases, they didn't agree with the direction of my life. in other cases, i was just a bad friend. i wonder if they'll ever be a time to redeem those lost relationships. or are they simply gone forever?

Nightmares on Camp Creek Pkwy.

The last few nights have been odd. My dreams have been of stress, worry, concern, and sadness. More than anything, there has been a sincere feel of disappointment. They have actually be so intense, they take about 20-30 minutes to convince myself that it wasn't real - that the event or occurrence only took place in my head. I wake up searching, longing for resolution. It takes about an hour to shake the feeling entirely. What's wrong?

In one dream, the class I just started teaching, was a team that I was coaching. We were in the locker room during, what must have been halftime of whatever sport we were playing, and they were losing badly. The loss wasn't that bad, teams lose sometimes, I understand that, I even understood it then. My source of disappointment was that my motivation speech was not going over well at all. Some of the students were downright ignoring me, playing games, sleeping, or blatantly being distractive to others. In a fit of frustration, I took one kid's Gameboy and threw it to the ground, which made me all the more disappointed in myself. Then, I realized the speech grew too long, and I was late to a meeting at my job. No, on second thought, it wasn't a dream, it was a conference, in Dallas. Specifically, I was supposed to be at Dallas, Fort Worth, which is the airport in Dallas, but for whatever reason, I was supposed to be driving there. I panicked, and found myself waking up, searching for the alarm clock to see how much time I had to speed to Texas. When I found that it was but 7am, I relaxed and rolled over, thinking that I didn't have to leave until 10am. In reality, it was Saturday, and I didn't have anywhere to be until late afternoon. For the next hour though, I slept lightly, as if I really did have to wake up at 10. By 9:30 though, I realized it was all a dream.

In another dream, I was a kid, having a birthday party, and no one showed up. My sister and I were preparing the party, cooking a bit, cleaning a bit, and then I went to sleep, fully expecting to see loads of friends and family downstairs in the kitchen when I awoke. Only, when I awoke, in reality, I listened downstairs and heard no one. Then I drifted back off to sleep, where my dream self walked downstairs and confirmed the nothing I heard when I woke up just moments before. If you think it's confusing to read, just imagine how confusing it was to experience.

There were several other dreams that had the same effect. I have no idea what's going on. The run-of-the-mill answer is the drastic change in my stress-sleep ratio in the last week. But alas, it may be deeper.

I hope it's not though.

Cinematic Dilemma

So, I've been holding off on seeing Iron Man 2 since it came out because the Mrs. said she wanted to see it too. Yet, at every chance to check it out, I've veered from it because I keep hearing it's not good, or at least not as good as the first one, which she loved. On the other hand, it's seems like the perfect movie to watch when I'm up late by myself (I reserve all overrated movies for late nights alone, so as to appreciate them at a much lower expectancy rate...the last one was From Paris with Love, which was an excellent movie for 3am. I would have hated it had I seen it during hours I actually care about).

So what to do? Do I look past Gigi's wanting to see it, confident that she wouldn't like it and therefore saving her two hours of her life? Or do I wait to watch it with her on a night we just want to get it over with, just to be a man of my word.

Answer: blog about it, knowing she'll read about it later and tell you to go ahead and watch it alone, in exchange for a RomCom later starring Amy Adams, Ryan Gosling, and/or Louis Gossett Jr.

things I write when my fiance is taking a nap

I just spent the last 30 minutes revamping all of my blogsite just now, only to sit here and have nothing to write. Waste of time? Maybe. Waste of energy? Possibly. Waste of...well, there's nothing else then is there. I suppose that's all we ever truly have, time and energy. If you're wasting both of those, then, well, you're wasting everything. Hell, could I have just wasted everything, the entire essence of myself, on this blog?? Nah, that's my problem, I turn things that should be small into huge, live-changing, all-encompassing ordeals. I always make things so transcendental. 30 minutes on blogger has now turned into some mind-blowing, spiritual epiphany about that which we as humans have to offer to all of existence.

though, neither time nor energy are truly ours to give is it?

I mean, if they were, then we would be able to give it freely to others. But we can't.

The more important question at hand here is, as always, why am I writing. I've figured recently that my life has taken a slightly more public turn as of lately, so I'm much more cognizant of what I write. This isn't a bad thing, it just means that I don't write as freely here as I did in the good ol' glory days of my previous blog(s). So, in turn, where I used to write solely for myself, I suppose now I write for both myself and a vague undefined audience, the likes of which have vague and undefined intentions for reading as far as I know. Some of those intentions may even be ill. That's right, ill intentions. As if they have some sort of ill-intent. Reading right now they are. Probably tax collectors. Trying to figure out if I make more than I say I do. Looking for pictures of me riding around in my 4-acre manmade backyard pool on a dolphin, whose fins are dipped in gold, while sipping on margaritas, with torn leaves of hundred-dollar bills and the rim of the glass coated ever so lightly with cocaine. Well, then, ill-intention tax-collector, I know of your intent, and for that reason, I won't upload that particular photo.

Check, and mate.

by what mean

i feel myself getting older. technology passing by me in a way that makes me apathetic. i used to spend hours in the gadget stores. but now i feel like i'm barely keeping up. website creation is becoming second nature to the kids now, cpu programming is a cinch. programs, apps, platforms, operating systems, they are all being updated on a monthly, if not weekly basis. and if it's indeed daily, then it further shows how far out of the loop i am.

i want to create something awesome.

but i'm not a musician. i'm not an artist. i'm not even a writer.

what can i create? how can i make something out of a blank screen or canvas that represents the totality of the world that i envision - the project that consistently takes place in my mind. there is a concert, a film, a book, an album, and a design all sitting dormant in my brain. they are all rolled into one though, like a ball of variously colored rubber bands. and though i seek to find the right avenue in which to expose them, none seem to do justice. and so, i find myself reclusive of my vision. actualization seems impossible...just out of my grasp.

snapshot

things got so serious all of a sudden, didn't they.

i'm not sure when exactly, but, i feel that i've been chasing that which i had. of course, that which i had is gone now, but was it only a matter of location? or job? or certain friends?

i found myself looking through some pictures stored on my old computer. pictures i hadn't seen in years. since i uploaded them on the hard drive really. and as i was going through them, i realized that, i was really happy when i was living in new york.

of course though, this could be for a number of reasons. but ultimately, i feel like i was so happy because it was an escape. here, in atlanta, i feel the pressure to be a certain somebody. i feel like i'm expected by various individuals and entities to answer a calling on my life that i actually believe to be true, but have yet to really step up to. you see, my image of a minister is that which i know from being raised in the church, and that which i want it to be in my own opinion. as such, it requires some lifestyle changes for myself. and here in atlanta, it also means picking up certain allegiances and obligations that i couldn't care less about. it means subscribing to the family drama of churches and battles of loyalty. it means not hanging out at the bar without getting judged or having to supervise my image. it means being ever cognizant of my actions, as a role model and public figure of the community. it means sacrifice, to pick up the habits of that which i do not know. and to be honest, that frightens me.

but it's not just that though. i can't sit here in all honesty and blame ministry as to why i'm not living like i used to. it took a long time for me to cultivate a sense of family and friends in new york. it wasn't always so peachy. i suppose though (and excuse me, this is just me thinking as i type), i suppose it could just be that coming back to atlanta is not what i thought it would be. the network and friends that i thought i had, i just don't. and now i've been gone from nyc so long i don't think i have it there either.

sigh, i dare not look a gift horse in the mouth though. i have great friends here in atlanta. my girlfriend is awesome, the friends i have here are the truth, and i really do have fun times here. i do. i'm not talking about the quality of life i feel here. no, on the contrary, i am living well back here in atlanta. right now though, i am referring to how i feel. i feel like, like, like i'm in limbo. like i'm not doing what i'm supposed to be doing. i feel like i was happy as a teacher. i feel like i'd be happy as a minister. but right now i'm not doing either, because of making the transition from one to the other. it's not the smooth transition i thought, and that i hoped, it would be.

why isn't it?

no one told me that it would be. but, i suppose i figured that if God ordained a path for me to take and walk upon, that path would be made plain, that it would be made available to me. i figured i wouldn't have so many questions, or so many doubts. i didn't think it would be this...uncomfortable. i question whether or not i should move again, or not go to seminary, or go to a different seminary, or any other host of random questions that might make this journey make sense.

because it doesn't right now.

right now it feels like my soul has it's shoe's on the wrong feet. thankful that it has shoes at all, it doesn't want to complain, or question the quality of the shoes, but can't shake the feeling that it may not be right. is this how my life is supposed to feel right now? like i'm wearing my shirt backwards? like the milk in my cereal might be a day too old? like going through the day wondering if i cut off the iron before i left home?

am i supposed to feel like that daily?

especially when i used to feel like i could fly? when i used to feel like i could see the lights of life right before my eyes. when there was no weight in the world, and the sense of obligations and allegiances were too far away to matter. when life was a blur, only captured by brief moments of camera stills and conversations with old friends. why don't i feel that now? why don't i feel like life is simple anymore, or as small as it used to be? why don't i feel at home in the place i call home?

some would argue that it's just a matter of growing up. some would argue that it's high time i was pulled down from the idealistic ninth cloud i was renting for so long. some would even argue that the path of a minister is as such. worse before it gets better.

my hope is that it's neither of these things. i hope that what i'm going through is what any and everyone goes through when they break from what they know to connect to something new. like a toothbrush, or a pair of shoes - even if they are on the wrong feet. i hope that it's a matter of breaking in a new path in life, very different from my old one. i hope that i find as much freedom and comfort as i remember having, or more, or different, or of more significance.

these are but hopes though. hopes that i'm doing the right thing. and not making a mistake.

because sometimes, it sure feels like it.

write. read. live. again.

funny how when someone close to you recommends something, you ignore it; and yet, when someone else recommends the same thing, it is all of a sudden an epiphany.

my mom told me i should be writing all of my experiences down to refer to later. my old Shakespeare professor said the same, and now i feel that it's a great idea. this makes me a jerk son. i called mom later and told her thanks for all the good advice through the years. so at least now i'm a thankful jerk.

that's a start.