Arctic Monkeys - Fireside

It woke upon a day of sundering, ice blue eyes framed in matted black fur

A beast thought mastered, now strains its chains

Viewing what once was rose, and seeing deception …

I stare into chocolate eyes and see my future

Forefinger to lips, I look into eyes so very similar but so much smaller

Caffeinated tonic shared, her nose crinkles at the bitterness, a tradition passed

Arm wrapped around shoulders a miniature mirror to mine,

Taught as if tension alone can hold back the tears that threaten

Passing a life’s lesson on mastering the rage

Hands entwined, wind off an ocean, the crash of waves music to a setting sun

I look into eyes edged by well-earned lines peering out over a life shared

And into my own peering out from a distant past

… It whispers of lies, truths meant for another, a means to an end

And I, a forgotten character to another’s novel

Tribute to fuel the ambition of one I was a fool to believe mine

And I reply, “Oh, but what a beautiful lie.”

Phantogram - Celebrating Nothing

“What is wrong with me?” It’s a question I’ve asked myself over and over again since my father first made me feel less than worthy of his attentions. Invariably, it seeded my formative years with a great deal of emotional doubt and introspection. Admittedly, the introspection helped to forge what has largely become my morale steel and it served as a boon to me for the most part. That was, until a family celebration ended with me staring into the furious eyes of my father while he denounced me as a son and pinned me to a garage door. At that moment there was no room for introspection, all that remained was the thought “So this is it, he’s going to kill me.”

Obviously my father didn’t go through with it and to be honest it was the only time he ever came close to being physically abusive, but he was a master of psychological abuse. To a young boy not yet out of sixth grade the intimidation was palpable, I was paralyzed. Too this day just thinking about it makes my adrenaline rush and my body shake. Morbid as it is, he did manage to kill the scared boy on that garage door.

In the hours following, I found I had an answer to the question “What is wrong with me?” it wasn’t that there was anything wrong with me, but there was something wrong with him. Something that would never let me be good enough for him, no matter how hard I tried, or good I was, or what I did to prove how much I loved him. Something was broken in my father and there was nothing I could do to fix him. He had to choose to fix himself and so, for a little while at least, I stopped asking myself “What is wrong with me?”

The next time the question would tread upon my thoughts was just out of High School. A friend and I had an argument over something trivial. So much so that I can barely remember now what it is we argued over, but I remember firmly believing, as I suppose we all do in such cases, that I was in the right. I remember discussing it with one of my best friends looking, as so many of us oft do, for validation. Instead, what I received was an annoyed look and “You know what your problem is? You are too prideful. In all the time that I’ve known you, I can’t ever remember you apologizing or admitting you were wrong about something.” The response shook me to my core. 

There is something about the judgement of someone close to you, something that has the power to cut deeper than any instrument made from mortal hands. Maybe thats the nature of letting people get close to you. As comforting as the trust you place in their hands is, it can be the most lethal of weapons, an anathame you craft yourself and place into their hands. Either way, his words began an avalanche of introspection in the alps of my mind, forcing me to dig out of what I thought I was or freeze. Was I too prideful? When was the last time I’d apologized? Was being right worth a friendship? Was it worth being alone?

It was hard, swallowing my pride, and it took more out of me to do so than I thought it should, so maybe I was too prideful. Whatever the cause of the argument it certainly wasn’t worth a friendship and the thought of being alone, without friends, was terrifying. So I humbled myself, apologized, made amends, and assuaged the voice in my head screaming “What is wrong with me?”

So here I am, a month from my 30th birthday, a great career, plenty of friends, a comfortable lifestyle, nothing but opportunity ahead of me, and yet the question has plagued me for two years and a fortnight. No matter how blessed I am, no matter how much people like me, or say how great a person I am. If I am such a paragon of humanity why am I so ineffably alone? What is so wrong with me that I can’t find a person to share my life with? Maybe I’m too diplomatic, or assertive enough? Maybe the very qualities that make me a reliable, honorable, and loyal man are the same that make me too nice to be in a relationship.

Of all the innumerable answers none are more terrifying than the idea that perhaps she’s dead, or never existed to begin with, maybe there is no one for me. Maybe alone is all I’ll ever be. No statement my Father ever made has proved truer than the statement “Son, Life isn’t fair.” Why wouldn’t this statement apply to love?

More than likely this assessment is far more self-serving and melancholic than it needs to be, more complicated than it needs to be. Occam’s razor applied, what I’ve done for the past 29 years hasn’t worked therefore it’s wrong and I need to change it. There’s a flaw in the traits that make up my being which make me untenable as a partner. Perhaps the cliche that “Nice guys finish last” isn’t just so, but a fact rooted in the reality that bad men are preferable. Once they’ve all been spoken for all that’s left are the nice guys  and what incentive is there to start off with them anyway when, like the last kid picked for teams on the school ground, they will accept anything.

My problem? I don’t want to be a last resort, or someone somebody settles for, I want to be chosen. But it appears that, in order to be “chosen” by the convention of the day, I should be emotionally unavailable/dysfunctional, ethically relativistic, and morally dubious. Essentially the opposite of me (though I must admit to some emotional dysfunctional as evidenced by this very longwinded article).

Anyway it appears as though I’ve had the answer all along, the conundrum I face seems to be do I change myself this time and in doing so lose what I am. Do I come to terms with the fact that I will either be someone’s last resort or resolve to be alone like some aesthetic monk?

There’s a episode of “How I Met Your Mother?” that gained a little more meaning for me after I saw the finale. Entitled “The Time Travelers,” Ted’s soliloquy at the terminus of the episode eloquently communicates my feelings. There is a part of me that wants desperately to meet my soulmate, to know who she is that I might have the greatest amount of time with her in my life. To share more sunsets, more starry nights, more arguments, before shuffling off this mortal coil. But just like Ted I will remain alone until either the fickle fates introduce us or I become something different and someone, perhaps, antithetical to the person I am now.

Minus the Bear - Fooled by the Night

Forever

To bask in the glory of us

Entwined as we are, writhing in the midst of love

Peering deep into the mirrored windows of your soul

Close enough to taste your breath

The salty sweet aroma so infuriatingly intoxicating

Exploring familiar rosy buds atop ample mounds

Resting in valleys and lost in curves

Surrounded by supple strength

Lavishing dewy fields and soft flower petals

The weight of my world rests upon glad shoulders, trembling

Unabashed to rise and willfully seeking union

Till You and I, fall before Us

Certain that all we are, or will ever be, is Ours

Sunset

Upon the cliffs far above surf’s drown
Where love’s sunup grew at sundown
Rain falls beneath still pregnant sky
And I ponder answers to the why?

Dreams and hope so great began
Have dashed upon the rocks and sand
Where once was promised warm embrace
Naught but chill wind lash at the face

Frigid waters tempt rest from far below
But from the torment, I’ll not go
For burnished orange and rosy hues
Are lousy payment, for my dues

When will this sorrow cease to fret?
So that I may again view happy sunset

Sunset

Upon the cliffs far above surf’s drown

Where love’s sunup grew at sundown

Rain falls beneath still pregnant sky

And I ponder answers to the why?

Dreams and hope so great began

Have dashed upon the rocks and sand

Where once was promised warm embrace

Naught but chill wind lash at the face

Frigid waters tempt rest from far below

But from the torment, I’ll not go

For burnished orange and rosy hues

Are lousy payment, for my dues

When will this sorrow cease to fret?

So that I may again view happy sunset

izzymar:

Disney Fine Art: “Ohana means family" by Heather Theurer:)
(Source: disneyfineart.com)

Wonderful piece of art

izzymar:

Disney Fine Art: “Ohana means family" by Heather Theurer:)

(Source: disneyfineart.com)

Wonderful piece of art

(Source: tinkeperi)

I love everything about her, and I’m not a guy who says that lightly, I’m a guy who has faked love his entire life, I’m a guy who thought love was just something idiots felt, but this woman has a hold on my heart that I could not break if I wanted to. And there have been times when I wanted to. It has been overwhelming and humbling, and even painful at times, but I could not stop loving her any more than I could stop breathing. I’m hopelessly, irretrievably in love with her. More than she knows.
You will be shocked, kids, when you discover how easy it is in life to part ways with people forever.

That’s why, when you find someone you want to keep around, you do something about it.

Churchill - I am yours

I’m tired of fighting you, so I’ll say what you want me to
You know we’re gonna wake up tomorrow
We’re back to where we began, let’s start it over again
Our voices breaking, steal, and borrow

You hold your tongue, your words are locked up in your lungs
So I’ll come at it quietly, I just want some honesty
Well you know that I can’t ease your sorrow

But I am yours, yours, yours
If you love me make your mind up, make your mind up
I am yours, yours, yours
If you love me make your mind up, make your mind up

So I leave with an open hand, your grip pulls me back again
We’re all together, lost in nowhere
You say what you mean it babe, tomorrow’s a different way
The story’s changed but reasons aren’t there

And now you hold your tongue, you’re trying not to come undone
But all I need is one, so baby speak your words, and take me somewhere

'Cause I am yours, yours, yours
If you love me make your mind up, make your mind up
I am yours, yours, yours
If you love me make your mind up, make your mind up

You wanted me to let you
You wanted me to let you in and I tried, I tried, oh
You wanted me to let you
You wanted me to let you in and I tried
But there ain’t no way else to tell you that 

I am yours, yours, yours
If you love me, make your mind up, make your mind up
I am yours, yours, yours, yours
If you love me make your mind up, make your mind up
Come on make your mind up, ‘cause I am yours