It's 6am and I have a headache again. Everyday this happens and it feels more like a tequila sunrise, you drank way too much and you wake up in a third floor apartment with no A/C as the 90 degree heat singes the peaks of your bed head. It's hard to relax at all knowing that this welcomes me every morning and that's it all part of this new chapter in life that I just can't seem to comprehend nor appreciate for multiple reasons. I haven't written very much lately as I require a certain setting, like any writer or blogger, that allows my mind to enter a creative state of mind. It used to be like clockwork. Music, green tea, sofa, laptop and a sense of security. Now it all feels like I flipped the omelet poorly and now I have to settle for scrambled eggs. (Brebri84 in IG)
...That's not how I work. I don't want to settle for fucking scrambled anything!
I'd rather throw the whole thing away and start from scratch then digest mediocrity.
Looking out my window seeing a beautiful afternoon as people walk their dogs, rake their lawns, watch kids play and head to cookouts or birthday parties, I stand there with my black coffee pondering the probability of what event is going to crash the moon onto my daily plans. In the most peaceful moments, I'm not. I'm always mentally somewhere else. You could be standing right in front of me and my mind is across town where it shouldn't be, running ridiculous scenarios through my brain in high definition. It reminds me of Bruce Wayne as he scours over Gotham. Unlike me, the man has everything a material person could ask for, yet he chases crime, self-worth and love, none of which he never truly grasps. Now I'm not saying you'll find me running across the city like a crazed caped hero, least not anytime soon. But as a masked hero, he never really went “home” and as I gaze at a beautiful skyline with hues of blue and orange...I haven't come home either, not for a long time. The ghosts of my past won't let me. Last time I checked, you can't punch ghosts.
I read these motivational posts on instagram that people throw under their pictures and to me it's just reconstituted vomit that's been copied, re-branded and puked out under the guise that it's actually going to help in someway. I'll stick to looking at pictures of food, thanks. I give these people credit, don't get me wrong, they worked hard for whatever they've achieved and that's cool, but to be honest, I really just don't...fucking...CARE. No real relation at all to this topic, not that this article has no relation to anything, but I've aching to say this for a while. Your not philosophers, your brand reps. Shut up...please...trying to be polite.
There's no doubt that I've worked very hard and deserve to have peace in my life as should anyone who's done things the right way or at least tried to, and that my joy in having peace of mind could be passed on to others as it once was, but I now find myself in a Cold War with society and it's corporate policy of constant feet dragging. I can't be at the gym without a hat hat covering my eyes, nor can I be there for more than an hour, before I start chewing on the cables that block me from the exit as I hit triple digits on the ride back to my place. The gym isn't my home, my home isn't even my home. I kinda feel like I'm running on lily pads and that I can't stay in one spot for too long or else I'll fall in.
I look at it as an emotional hibernation, I know the feelings are there, but I can't do anything about it nor can I afford to. I've been told that at my speed, I'm going to burn out hard. That's fine, it's like comparing the moon to a comet, the moon is always there, its a constant, but for the most part it's boring, it goes mostly unnoticed, but a comet...that baby lights the sky up for a short period of time and millions of people enjoy the view, until it disappears from sight or burns up in the atmosphere and that's it, the comet is no more...but it was a wild ride while it lasted.
I know this article has turned into a hodge-podge of metaphorical ramblings, but it's these rambling incomplete thoughts that remind me that my brain is still sparking and trying to repair itself and allow for more coherent thought to pass through. I had to first purge myself of all my secrets, which didn't go over so well with some people...but hey...fuck 'em. I only see two paths for myself right now, as far as which course I take regarding the person you may meet on the other side remains to be seen. I failed on many projects in my life, Topfeuds, OurCityRadio, but Positive Sarcasm is mine, there are no other cooks in the kitchen, I slowly built every single piece of it, from the articles to the events gallery to the podcast which could revive itself someday and there could be some delicious merchandise and so on in the future. It's unapologetic, to the point, self sufficient and always welcoming of new ideas...kinda like me, at least for the time being. I look forward to being more and doing more in the future, but right now this all feels like one big Alanis Morrisette song.
Just keep plugging away, another article in the books, another thought out of my head, another way to let fresh ideas in.
...until then I stand alone on the warm beach watching the sun go down, a man with only his thoughts...just a stranger in paradise.