Tuesday, June 28, 2011

open a vein

Writing about events in my life frightens me. It is strikingly personal and revealing, like hearing yourself on a voicemail for the first time, and being at once disgusted and intrigued by the sound of your own voice. I read that Rudyard Kipling was known for mixing fiction with autobiography to lessen the sting of recounting the most painful moments of his life. This allowed for a more comfortable disconnect between his work and his memories. I can see why he did this.

I remember my teacher saying that as a writer, what you have to offer is yourself. Your experiences, crossing the spectrum of human sentiments from elation to despair. This is how people know they are not alone. It is, "No, you're not crazy. Someone else has felt that way too. Please don't feel alone because while your experiences are unique, the human condition is not."

People have been deep in depression, have struggled, have questioned if the struggle is even worth it.

It has been 7 years since my Dad died, and it isn't really easier to talk about now than when I was 15 and giving a eulogy. Strangely, I think it's harder. The reality hadn't set in then but it has now. When people express sympathy for something, the focus is on the event and the immediate repercussions. There is nothing wrong with this and I think it is a natural inclination. The thing with these events though is that it is not something that happens and ends. It ripples outward and touches every aspect of your life and those involved. It tests mental resistance and faith. It forces you to ask questions you never wanted to think about; to confront parts of yourself you didn't want to acknowledge. It will establish a permanent presence in your mind. I say these things because I know that they are true.

I don't think my feeling is unique. Everyone has trials and tribulations they deal with every single day and there is no way to completely understand how the events in someone's life affect them. I don't think that everything we get in life is something that we deserve.

There is no ultimately redemptive aspect to this because I still don't know it myself. I was thinking, though, that when I read something where someone says that they have been there, they have experienced something that was hard for them and they lived to tell the tale, it always makes me feel better. I am not saying that I have any answers, I am saying I know how it feels and you aren't alone.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011


“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

Thursday, June 9, 2011

the tempest

at 2 am today i woke up to the crashing sound of thunder and unrelenting pummeling of rain. i woke up in the sense that i saw the flashing crystal-white splashing through the window of my room, but getting out of bed melded in with the dream i was having. without my contacts the lightning illuminated the rainwater rushing through the street next to my house to look like a molten stream of liquid light.

Sunday, June 5, 2011


The whole system that we live in drills into us that we’re powerless, that we’re weak, that our society is evil, that its crime ridden, and so forth; It’s all just a big fat lie.
We are powerful, beautiful, extraordinary. There is no reason why we cannot understand who we truly are, where we are going. There is no reason why the average individual cannot be fully empowered. We are incredibly powerful beings.


by definition, when you make something no one hates, no one loves it. tibor kalman

the bruises go away, and so does how you hate, and so does the feeling that everything you receive from life is something you have earned. foer