Christmas Eve

Michael Caine can say it much better than I can. Merry Christmas to everyone. Thank you for being in my life!

Awareness

I want to be an inanimate object. I wish that had been my existence. My little tally market in the chasm of time.

I wish I could have been Da Vinci's canvas, Ben Franklin's glasses, Davy Crockett's powder rifle, Aristotle's quill, or Shakespeare's stage. Hell, I could even settle for Elvis' toilet.

It pains me to know that such random objects hold more value in existence than I do. Without them, who knows what the world would be like today. At 23 years old, what have I done? What am I going to do? Probably nothing. The odds are, I, won't be of significance. Just like most individuals who've come and gone from existence. There are a few sprinkled out across history that have made their marks and with the help of a few objects, have changed time. Maybe, I could have been one of those objects. I wish I was.

One could argue, that there are just as many objects as individuals whose existence has come and gone without any real worth. Well...... the beauty about being an object is, at least you aren't aware of it.

What I wouldn't give, to just not be aware for a few moments.

When I go down

You give me hope and hope it gives me life. You touch my heavy heart and when you do you make it light. As I exhale, I hear your voice and I answer you, though, I can hardly make a noise. From my lips, the words I choose say seem pathetic, but its a fallen man's praise. Because I love you. Oh God, I love you. - Relient K

I've been listen to alot of Relient K lately. It's amazing how spiritual their lyrics are and yet, it's put in a way that almost anyone can relate to.

I suppose what I relate to so well is the feeling that I'm constantly messing up. Lately, (and by lately I mean 4 years) I've felt like I'm just one big mess. I don't know exactly what I'm doing. I've said this often. I suppose this place is my outlet for those feelings. Relient K seems to speak to the inner turmoil my soul feels.

I am always trying to balance myself between being a little wreckless and human with being the spiritual kid my soul wants me to be. More often than not the latter gets surpressed. I used to be a very spiritual person but now I wonder if I lost it, or if I've tried so hard to fake not being it, I've taught myself how not to be.

Deep down, I believe in God and it amazes me how willingly and mercifuly forgiving he is. So I write this to him in hopes he might know the intentions of my heart:

Dear Heavenly Father,

It's Jason. Excuse me while I stutter through this but I feel you should know my gratitude. Thank you for being consistently there. I know I have often times doubted it, but those are only during harden heart times. I can't even lie to myself about it because i'm constantly reminded of what you have done for me and what you do for me.

I don't know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I couldn't tell you. I don't want to be this person and yet, I don't seem to have the strength to be the person I used to be. I'm sure I look foolish tripping over the same obstacle and skinning my knee over and over. I'm sure you knew I would do this, yet, you wish I could have learned the first time. I think you know better than I that maybe the scars that will develop from these trials will be a reminder for me throughout my life. Perhaps I can always look at my knees and remember that while I'm foolish, I eventually learn to overcome things. For now though, I seem to be stuck in the bleeding and painful stage. I have oftena sked for strenght and wisdom to overcome, but, I have ignored what help has already been given because I don't have teh strength to utilize it.

I am pathetic. I am helpless. I am short sighted. I am worldly. I am not what I would have myself be. I will be someday though. It might not be soon. I might have to make several more mistakes. I may have to hit rock bottom. I promise though, that eventually, I will be everything you see me. I will fulfill that potential.

Please continue to have faith in me. To watch with a frustrated but caring eye. I will rise and I know it'll only be with your help. Save me a bandaid, some anti bacterial, and a seat in your mansion. I will be scarred up and bruised but I will make it.

Sincerely Jason.


When I go down I lift my eyes to you. I won't look very far, cause you'll be there with open arms.

To lift me up again. - Relient K

Election day!

This representative is one that will restore honor!

Don't you get tired of hearing that? Every election we see candidates throw trivial words around like they should be significant. Restoring honor? At what point in history was the golden age of honor? Did I miss it? How do you restore something that has been half-assed throughout history?

Thats not even the part that bugs me the most. It's that once they throw around these arbitrary words, we are supposed to vote for them because of it. Well they are going to restore honor, so obviously I'm going to ignore all their policies and vote for them anyways. What the hell is that? It's a cop out, and the worst part is that it works.

All parties do it. All candidates do it. I'm not pointing fingers at people but the system as a whole. I find it pathetic that rather than talk about whats wrong and how we are going to fix it. We'd rather yell out virtuous words while smearing the person across the aisle.

So this Election day pay close attention to all the candidates yelling valor, honor, honesty, truth, change, and all other sorts of words while sinning against every one of them.

Screw Halloween

I hate parties. Let me define parties. The large gathering of people that are around the same age as you and usually are centered around lack luster occasions. The ones where everyone puts on store bought smile and small talk is made amongst the peers that you know best within the mass of people. Hate em. Nothing could ever feel so fake to me. No I don't want to meet anyone new in such an environment. No I don't want to pretend to either.

I'm just not the type of person who likes that kind of thing. I get mildly annoyed that having such a "sour" attitude is considered a bad characteristic. Not like I can help it. I will never be comfortable in such a situation. I will never be able to cut loose and be myself. I'm not even going to apologize for it anymore.

I love family gatherings, I love Monday Night Football, I love hanging with my boys, I love chilling with a small group of people.

Most of all I love sitting at home in my room where I don't have to feel self conscious. Where I don't have to be smart, be attractive, be funny, be happy. Where I can look like shit and feel like shit and be okay with it.

Screw Halloween. Screw these lack luster holidays which have lost their sense of wonder before I was ever really able to appreciate them. Screw married kids at my age when I can't have it. Screw professors who can wipe out all my confidence without a second thought about it. Screw having no direction. Screw success.

Give me time to just be me for a while, please?

Out of the way

At what point do we say enough and get out of our own way?

The Race

THE RACE- D.H. Groberg

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure's face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children's race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn't hard to tell.

They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy's desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought "My dad will be so proud."

But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he'd win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.

As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn't win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, "Get up and win that race!"

He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that's all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.

He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
"I'm hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn't try to race."
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father's face
with a steady look that said again, "Get up and win that race!"

So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
"If I'm to gain those yards," he thought, "I've got to run real fast!"
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.

Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
"There's no sense running anymore! Three strikes I'm out! Why try?
I've lost, so what's the use?" he thought. "I'll live with my disgrace."
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he'd have to face.

"Get up," an echo sounded low, "you haven't lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!" the echo urged him on, "Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!"

So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.

Three times he'd fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.

But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he'd won the race, to listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well."
"To me, you won," his father said. "You rose each time you fell."
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.

For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, "Get up and win that race!"



The race sucks but I'll be damned if I don't cross that line eventually.

The List (Guys)

This seems to be my thing lately, stealing ideas for posts from my friends. This particular one is from my lovely friend Cat. She made a list of her favorite guys. I too will follow suite. The problem is I have a long list depending on the criteria. Actors, musicians, real life figures, men I'd go gay for, it's rediculous really.

So here is my criteria, Guys who have shaped who I am. There is no particular order, we'll just say they all are at the same level.

- Chris Carrabba


Chris, Chris is amazing. My 8th grade year and the following summer before High School introduced me to a musical genre that has since changed my life. I stumbled across a band known as Further Seems Forever and there fell in love with the lead singer. This was Chris. He stole my heart again soon after when he created Dashboard Confessional and put out perhaps the best album of music I will ever hear, Swiss Army Romance. Dashboard defined by highschool life, it got me through the worst of times and the best of times. Had I known then that a decade later I would shake his hand and meet him in person, I surely would have spent the next 10 years without sleep. The anticipation would have been the death of me. Shaking his hand was... can't even describe it. Oh Chris, Thank you. (If you haven't heard him live and acoustic, you are truly missing out. Also, he's freakin hot as hell.)


-Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce (Alan Alda), M*A*S*H


I can't remember when I first started watching MASH. I do remember though, that I was young enough to think I had stumbled upon something inappropriate and adult. I remember feeling ashamed the first time my mother caught me watching, only to feel overjoyed when she told me she liked it and was fine with me watching it. That's all the urging I needed. It used to run during the morning from 10-11 am. I'd watch it all summer and then during the school year when I was sick enough to stay home. Hawkeye became my idol. He was everything I wanted to be. He was smart, skilled, laidback, sensative, a ladies man, a drunk, sarcastic, witty, caring, and funny as hell. I really think the reason I turned out to be such a sarcastic smartass was because I wanted to be like Hawkeye. In one episode they call him a pistol because he always had a comeback. I too wanted to be a pistol. I've slowly collected most of the season and have seen every episode a million times. I love it. (The Movie sucks ballllls though. Seriously, Donald Sutherland, seriously!?) (When I first got called to Iowa, the first think I did was look up where Ottumawa was because that's where Radar is from.)

-John Stockton and Karl Malone

I can't really say much more than these two were my heroes during my childhood. I Loved them and was heartbroken when they retired without a ring. No two ball players were ever as good together as these. They were the ying and yang of basketball. I never knew how much I would miss them as I do now knowing I can't see them play anymore. There aren't players built like these two anywhere in the game. They played through everything, they didn't care about the money, they worked their ass off. Stockton to Malone, the perfect combination.

and for kicks and giggles

-Chad Michael Murray


Lucas Scott, One Tree Hill. The one guy I'd go gay for. He's dreamy, he's smart, he plays ball, he gets all the hot chicks (Sophia Bush baby). He's a stud. A Guilty pleasure. I mean look at those sultry brooding eyes. Hell yes. The only regret I have is that he got divorced from Mrs. Bush. Mock all you want.

Evoke

Mary got me contemplating what word I would like to describe myself as in her recent blog entry. She wants to be synonymous with the word electric. I must admit that I couldnt' think of anything as snazzy and exciting that would reflect the type of individual I am. However, a word did keep coming to mind and I think that I could handle being synonymous with it. This isn't an adjective but rather a verb.

Jason = Evoking.

I would hope that would a legacy that I could carry on. A simple search on dictionary.com shows

"e·voke   /ɪˈvoʊk/ Show Spelled[ih-vohk]
–verb (used with object), e·voked, e·vok·ing.
1. to call up or produce (memories, feelings, etc.): to evoke a memory.
2. to elicit or draw forth: His comment evoked protests from the shocked listeners.
3. to call up; cause to appear; summon: to evoke a spirit from the dead.
4. to produce or suggest through artistry and imagination a vivid impression of reality: a short passage that manages to evoke the smells, colors, sounds, and shapes of that metropolis."

I would like to be remembered as an individual who evoked a response. I want people to feel something when I am around. Whether it is positive or negative it doesn't matter. As long as it helps the discover something about themself or to remember something about themself. I would hope that I have already done this in my life time and that I have had an impact in peoples lives.

I Jason want to be evocative.

Airport Parkinglots

As far as I can remember I have always been a spiritual person. I couldn't tell you whether it was because of my upbringing or that it was coded into my DNA. I never had a reason to question God, never had a problem with firmly rooting myself in the soil of the gospel. I was raised LDS. (Keep your judgements to yourself.) I am still LDS. Something has changed though.

I couldn't tell you what, but its different now. I can picture my 10 year old self in Sunday School, blurting out all the answers. It all came so easy to me. I just knew the stories, knew the lessons, knew what was asked of me. Like any child who doesn't feel challenged, I slacked off. I goofed off in classes, goofed off in primary, it was all easy. Almost too easy.

Fast forward to age 15. It got complicated. My father, sick from his cancer treatments that had happened over 20 years previous, was ill. Very ill. I watched him struggle. I watched him go in and out of the hospital for months and years. So many doctor visits, blood clots, late night emergencies, coming home from highschool to an empty house. My family never lost faith. My father never complained. I never doubted my religion. I never sluffed a seminary class. Never missed church as long as it was in my power. It was difficult, complicated, but nothing had changed.

At 18 and graduated from highschool I began to watch my best friends prepare for missions. I had always known this was sort of expected of me but I don't know if I ever had that deep burning desire to do it. 2 years felt like a long time. I never told anyone that though. With the encouragement of my parents, a certain girl whom I thought I was in love with, and the urges of my friends I too decided to embark on this adventure. Dreams of epic stories, successful, dangerous, heroic, they filled my head.

Little did I know.

2 1/2 months later I found myself flying home from the far off land of Iowa. I felt like a failure and yet, it had been the longest 2 1/2 months of my life. I just wanted to see my mother. To see my family. To lay in my bed. I held myself together as I walked through the SLC terminal. I kept it all together when I saw my mom standing there waiting. I made it to the parking lot and then, I saw the Maroon car. I lost it. I collapsed to the ground and cried. Just cried. Somewhere in those moments it all changed.

From the parking lot to now, 4 years later. I find myself so far away from everything I thought I would be at this age. I feel every fiber of my personality has been stretched, broken, and tied back together. 4 years later I am still trying to find all my confidence, my faith, my hope, myself. I dunno if I'll ever find it again.....and that scares me.

I've watched those same friends return home from missions and get married. I've watched my best non LDS friend get baptized and wasn't able to be apart of it. I've watched that girl I was in love with struggle and find her way back again. I've watched my father strongly fight and even recover from an illness I would have given up over long ago. I've watched my little sister blossum into one of the brightest and most wonderful women I know I'll ever meet.

Where am I though? I am here, in my room, the room I grew up in, hiding. It's the only Iplace I really feel safe. Like I have control.

I can't say I don't believe in God, I do. I can't say I doubt my religion, I still believe. I can't find my way back. I'm not sure if I want to either. Would I cripple under eternal expectations again? Would my hope give out and I abandon my faith in the fear of failure? Would I survive it?

I'm 23 and I feel ancient. I feel worn. I feel tired. I feel like something so stupid shouldn't be such a massive roadblock. I feel like this is all bullshit. This isn't how it was supposed to go. This isn't, this shouldn't, this can't, but this is...

My name is Jason and my life was lost in an airport parking lot.

So tired

At some point I think I have to realize that becoming this person will have to be because I want to, not because I want to be what I think you want.....

I'm really just tired... So tired.

Choose your own adventure

It's lush. The way you walk around like you own the place. You act as though every room was carefully designed just to hold your presence as it's center of attention. The chairs, tables, lamps, carpeting, wall decorations, and all other assortments of furniture were placed in such a way that you in all your glory would shine brightest. The world is your stage..... Bitch.

That's when I realize this is my story. The person stealing all my glory is me....only it's everything I could be. Meanwhile, I'm really just coddled away in the corner of every room like another piece of decor. I'm a throw away character in the novel written for me and by me. This is my life. This....

That's when you hear it. Do something about it. Stop complaining.

What a hypocritical code......

A universal condition put to shame by such a shallow judgement. This is a choose your own adventure book. Somehow though, we all find ourselves landing on the same page. The: "We don't feel adequate page." The vulnerablity and insecurities that unite us in a common bond but are expressed in different ways. However, it also divides us from ourselves. The best of ourselves. In our solitary moments, in our consquences be damned moments; we shine. We radiate power. We fulfill ourselves.

This is your adventure. Your stage. Your world. You sit in the corner watching the shadow of you own the place. There are moments though that you take it's place. That the decorations and furniture and people in your story are the subtext to the glory that is you. You fulfill yourself.

You are the star.

So consquences be damned, bitch slap everyone and take your rightful place.

Blue BIC pen

I think this generation doesn't get enough credit. We are too obese. Too spoiled. We've lived in relative ease. We are too depressed. Too lazy. Too sick. I believe that's what makes us so special. There is a beauty that radiates from the sickest. I would even argue that it transcends the beauty of the healthy. From sickness springs the fullest of passions. A raw, animalistic, emotional beauty. I suppose that is why I am so appreciative of the emo/indie/screamo/acoustic/alternative. The anger, the hurt, the depression, the emotion, the lyrics are real. They aren't woven up in some self righteous meaning. They aren't watered down. They are honest. They are bad teenage poetry put to music. It's beautiful to me.

I consider myself lucky to be able to partake of such cheesy emotional. It defines a generation of young people who aren't happy and that's ok. We fall in and out of love like passing seasons. We backstab. We cheat. We are angry and not sure why. We scream to melodies. We cry in rythem. We hold close to lyrics. Everyone is a musician. Everyone contributes. Everyone is a poet. Everyone bleeds.

"I said I'd never let you go and I never did! I said I'd never let you fall and I always meant it! If you didn't have a chance than I never did! You'll always find me right there again! Have faith in me...."

I don't feel ok. I know why. I am having the hardest time figuring out how to fix it or even if I want to fix it. Everyone around me is moving forward and I'm slowly moving backwards. I feel like I'm losing grip on everything that has got me to where I am now. Is it for the better?

I feel like this is a prelude to a lifetime of regret.....

Maybe I'm a blue BIC pen that's ink has run out....

The philosopher.

Nietzsche at 2 am has captured my soul:

"Sigh- I caught this insight on the way and quickly seized the rather poor words that were closest to hand to pin it down lest it fly away again. And now it has died of these arid words and shakes and flaps in them-and I harldy know anymore when I look at it how I could ever have felt so happy when I caught this bird."- Nietzsche, The Gay Science

Oh how often I feel like this. Such brilliant ideas so disgraced by such tacky words. Language for all it's glory, can never truly capture the radiance of a well crafted idea.

The philosopher suffers greatest and there, it is also most blessed.

I can help you, I'm in retail.

Despite my best efforts to avoid it.... I've fallen in love with the song Airplanes by B.O.B. The music and B.O.B breaking down a rap is a great combination. I could do without Hayley singing... maybe just stand there and look pretty please?

"I could use a dream or a genie or a wish, to go back to a place much simplier than this. Cause after all the partyin, the smashin and crashin, and all the cliques, the glam, the fashion, and all the pandemonium, the madness, there comes a time when you fade into the blackness....."

Apparently size does matter. While examining a box of condoms (a wedding prank for our friend's car) my buddies were approached by an attractive female who claimed she could help them because she worked in retail. I arrived soon after to find an amusing and awkward conversation about buying them in bulk. Who knew all you had to do was hang out in the contraceptive aisle of Walmart to get chicks?

I'd crack a joke about being well endowed now but we all know that would be a filthy lie, so I'll just smile awkwardly and change the subject.

I'm going to openly admit something.... I love Tom Cruise.... as an actor. I don't know why everyone hates him so much. I think he is rather talented and has produced some very good movies. I saw Knight and Day, his latest film with Cameron Diaz and found it to be pretty witty and a good way to kill 2 hours. Maybe I'm not cultured when it comes to movies? I dunno. That being said, the real Tom Cruise is a douche. Funny how that combination springs up alot in famous people.

What else can I say? I'm on my 5th prestige on Call of Duty:MW2. Yea i'm that nerd. I just wanted to brag. Pathetic? You betcha. I can still kick your ass though.

Eh, I'll shut up. If you need me I'll be picking up chicks in the condom aisle of Walmart.

Relief

Many religions preach an afterlife. Some sort of being after this mortality. Reincarnation, some sort of divinity, or a paradise; it's all the same. Mostly it gives us comfort. A reason to persevere


I'm starting to realize that the only comforting thing about this mortality is that upon death.....we might finally be able to feel relief. Why complicate something that simple with another life?

Finals night!

I want.... to find a journal from the 1800s, maybe even earlier, hell anything from the 1800s and back. I want to find just one journal entry that says something along the lines. "Woke up, pissed, did some shit, deficated, went to bed." I just want to know that 100s of years ago, there was some wiseass that I could relate to. Seriously, how awesome would that be though?

Maybe a cave painting: Dawn (picture of sun), Kill deer (spear through animal), Poop (pile of something), Sunset (setting sun).

I have too much time on my hands, this is the stuff I think about.



So the semester is over.....summer break. Well I actually have one more final tomorrow but I'm not to worried about it. WHy any teacher would mention that all the tests are open note/book is beyond me. I didn't pay attention a bit in this science class. If school has taught me anything, it's finding out much i can get away with NOT doing things and still succeeding, rather than actually put any effort into something. If our future is based on a numerous amount of people like me, I might be inclined to be a little worried about our future. I just hope the damage we cause actually doesn't have backlash until I'm too old to care/notice. I'm an awful person.

Side note: The double down sandwich at KFC......is shit. Seriously, there haven't been very many moments where i've put something with so much meat and bacon in my mouth that I've been seriously let down..... but just steer clear of it. It'll kill you quickly and it won't even taste good. Tasted so bad my ass still can't get the flavor out of it.

There really isn't a point to this entry. I just haven't written in a while, and rather than go to bed so i can be well rested for my final.... I am killing time.

Screw it. Night

Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?

Shiiiiiiiit.

Sometimes I forget that the vision of myself I have in my head isn't nearly as realistic as the image in the mirror is. I swear to God that if I don't continuely remind myself that I'm really not as badass as my ego tells me I am, I could end up being one of those people..... You know, they are the ones that end up on American Idol's first episodes. Not the good ones, the ones who think they sound like Bing Crosby or Christina Aguilara and belt the music in a screechy tone that can only be appealing to bats or mythological creatures (here's lookin at you Hypogriffs).

Reality check.

I'm awesome, but I can't jump buildings in a single bound. Nor can I walk into Prison lunchroom and proceed to roundhouse kick the F*** out of every inmate in the joint. My romances aren't identical to Romeo's ( I can't woo a woman and have us both married/dead within a week, though I sure do feel thtey are that dramatic).

Side note: SUCK IT AMERICA, healthcare reform passed. Consider all your freedoms bitch slapped with a side of Federal regulation. I hope somewhere, that Sarah Palin has morphed into a she-wolf and is running the Alaskan country side hunting fresh moose meat. Good Hell she's annoying.

Where was I? Oh right, I can't despite my wildest imaginations nail Kate Beckinsale and Jennifer Aniston in the same night (beleive me, I've tried. Even in my dreams they tell me to get lost). Hell, I can't even find Carmen San Diego? (I always thought Venice was in Europe, who the hell knew she'd be hiding in the Utah one? What? You didn't know there was a Venice, Utah? Sucka! Look it up). Who do you think is the better hide and seek player? Osama Bin Laden or Waldo?

Seriously, Where the Hell is Osama? Think about it. We can split the Atom but we can't find the jackass who was in charge of flying airplanes into the Trade Centers? Someone needs to kick his ass and soon.

I can't even lick my elbow. I've tried multiple times, especially, after recieving those retarded surveys and chain letters that mention it. I'd love to find the guy that can though. I'm sure when he goes to sleep at night he feels vindicated with the fact that he can freakin do it (I suppose it could be a woman, I'd like to think that she would be too classy to ever know if she could or not though).

In conclusion, I haven't even caught every Pokemon, Ash wins.

Reality Check. I'm still freakin amazing, so deal with it.

P.S. Kiss my ass Bob Saget. You know why

Monarch Butterflies

Every third generation of Monarch butterflies live triple the life of a normal Monarch butterfly. They attempt an amazing journey from Canada across the U.S. and into Mexico. Researchers aren't sure why this generation exists. With their 9 month lives the are able to spand a distance that is hundreds of miles long. They return to a place they've never been or never seen, driven by some inherent idea. This is what I learn when I stay up late and watch NOVA.

Random much? Yes. Deal with it. Still though, how badass is nature? The answer is very.

A delicate creature can make a trek that far without even knowing where it's going. Wtf is our excuse then?

Facial Hair, My wall

The hair trimmer buzzes softly before you switch it off. Mounds and strands of hair are cluttered around the bathroom counter, you never thought you had so much of it till you see it thrown around like this. You look up into the mirror and see a new face. One you haven't seen in years. The white skin around your chin and side burns are like remenants of skin left under a band aid for too long. Discolored, soggy, sickly looking. Yet, healing took place underneath. It's a lousey metaphor but it works.

There is something more to it though. It's terrifying to see yourself in that new light. It's a new face haunted by such old memories. Inadequacy, failure, despair. It's almost as if a wall has been torn down. The moat around your castle is filled with sand..... Suddenly, you're vulnerable.

I hate vulnerablity, hate change. I want the band aid back. I want my security blanket. I want to be locked away safe from the world. That's what i want, and no amount of advice or conversation can change it.

Nots

Inspired my good friend Carolina, I thought I would attempt an entry like her. Posting my nots.
What are you not?

I am not despite my best efforts everything I desire to be. I am not perfect. I do not desire to be perfect. I do not desire to be more than myself. I am not a bad person either. I am not a personw ithout values and morals. I do not always meet them. I do not conform to others expectations. I am not caught up in myself. I do not go easy on myself. I do not give myself the credit I deserve for being the quality invididual I am.

I am not very goodlooking. I am not a rugged supermodel. I do not have amazing taste in clothes. I am not ugly. I am not skinny, though, I am not obese. I do not deserve to be examined once and found not fit to date. I do not deserve to be examined by my appearances. I do not deserve to be treated as a shell. I do not want to be a painted face. I do not want to care so much about my apperance despite feeling it necessary. I will not be cut out of a mold.

I do not get as depressed as I try to make it seem. I do not get as happy either. I am not as rational as I wish I was. I do not want to totally eliminate or let my emotions have control of me either. I do not want either extreme. I do not want to be thought stupid. I do not want to go through life having not been well read.

I do not doubt the existence of God. Nor do I believe that grace will save me. I do not believe that God labels people. I do not believe because a person views God differently that I should feel threatened. I do not believe that world peace is such a far fetched idea. I do not believe that we cannot over come our differences. I do not believe that his being gay, or her being Muslim, should matter more than a simply observation. I do not believe that my being LDS hinders me in anyway from experiencing the real world. I do not believe that labels matter, except the ones we give ourselves.

I am not a jock, a nerd, a gamer, a reader, a dreamer, a rationalist, a pessimist, an optimist, a romantic, but, I also am. I am not a single personality but rather a multitude of chaotic passions. I am not what the passions make me. I am not the sum of their parts.

I am not strong. I am not weak. I am not scared. I am not at peace. I am not a liberal. I am not a conservative. I am not capitalist. I am not a socialist. I am neither here, nor there. I am not any extremes.

I am not sure where I am going. I do not know how i feel about this. I do not like rules but I do not like chaos either. I do not like feeling alone despite knowing I am surrounded by lots of people who love me. I do not like knowing that there are others out there who feel this way as well. I do not like knowing I cannot change this. I do not like being told what I can or can't do. I do not plan on ever being content.

I do not hate. I do not trust anyone easily. I do not like being open so I build walls. I do not like sharing problems with people I know, but I am perfectly fine with sharing them with strangers. I do not show restraint when it comes to love. I do not know when it's too much or too little. I do not know when to hold a grudge or when to let it go. I do not like to fight but i do not like backing down.

Most of all I do not, do not, cannot, will not, am not planning on changing myself for anyone or anything.

"A man, as a general rule, owes very little to what he is born with - a man is what he makes of himself." -Alexander Graham Bell

Restart

No one has really written in their blogs for a while. I thought I'd pick up the slack. Maybe spark something.

For the past week or so I've been swept away late at night by the beautiful melody of my favorite song. I've listened to it way too much. It just feels like it completes me. It's romantic, bitter, nervous, and brutally honest. Not just the lyrics, but the melody. It's amazing to me how music can do that. Some songs catch you perfectly in the moods your in, or maybe a situation. They make it more intense. More real. More raw. This song is more for me though, no matter what mood, what situation, it sweeps me off my feet and drop kicks my heart. I'd rather not disclose what song, I like thinking it's personal. It's unknown and only exists for me. I believe it is.

I want to have a torrid love affair. I want unbridled passion. I want to dive headfirst into something intense with the foreknowledge that it'll will end badly. I want my heart to swell till it bursts. I want it to shatter into billions of pieces. I want a white hot pain to shoot through my body. I want to ache. I want to beg for sleep to overtake my crying. I want to lose all the faith I have in love. I want anguish, depression, and scarring. I want to hit rock bottom and then........

and then I want to find the strength to begin anew.

That moment

Sluggishly you fall into bed. You barely have the strength to peel your clothes off. You find yourself nestled in a heaven of sheets, pillows, and a slightly worn mattress. Sleep overtakes you, almost instantly. There is a moment though, however brief, that you're lost. Your mind hasn't completely shut off. It's raw, it's honest, it's beautiful, it's naked, your walls are down. In this moment many things can happen depending on whatever you're feeling that day. It acts like a catalyst for your subconscious to conjure up the most beautiful and the most fearful of dreams. Your subconscious latches on to this vulnerable moment and it just creates whatever the hell it wants. You can't protect yourself. There is no wall big enough to save you from yourself. You are forced to look at yourself. Sometimes it's pleasant, sometimes it's unbearable. That's life.....

I'm just praying to God that someday soon I can find you and make you that moment.....

Just a thought

The blood in my veins is the same as yours.....red is red.... So why does the shell that's covering it seperate us? Gender, Sexual Orientation, Color of Skin, Faith, Culture, Politics, and Geographical Location.... it's all relative when it comes to red. I love you regardless of it all and that's from the heart. - Jason Clark

10 things that got me through the week

It's late and I'm stuck here thinking. Wow, what a surprise. In an effort to not have this turn out to be depressing or some deep self reflection about myself I'm going to try to keep it chipper. So here it is, a list of things I've enjoyed this week.

1. Walking off campus to my car in the cold afternoon winter air I saw a group of kids huddled around talking in the parking lot. I decided to walk as close as them as possible without making it look obvious. The reason for this...... they were smoking. I have a weird relationship with cigarette smoke. In small doses (especially in cold air), it is uplifting in some weird way. Almost like how home baked cookies are. In large doses however, it gives me a headache and i get sick of it. There is also something about it that makes me feel intellectual around it. Between the aroma of coffee, old books, and secondhand smoke..... I'd be in an intellectual coma.

2. I love how even on the most awful days how something as stupid as finding a great parking spot can lift the spirits a little. It's like the universe is opening up it's dark chasms to let you know that even through all the shit, sometimes good things happen.

3. I absolutely love when I'm singing loud and obnoxiously in my car. Why do I love this, there are moments when my voice sounds really rustic and throaty and it makes me feel masculine. Stupid I know, but sometimes men have to reassure themselves of their masculinity. Just having a penis isn't enough. Such reassurances come in a variety of forms. This is a list but is not limited to only them: getting together with a bunch of other men and talking about doing something stupid (No, this does not mean we do something stupid, just discuss it. Ex: Lets drive to Vegas and gamble so we can win lots of money. Granted some people do this..... but it's not necessary), using a swear word as many times in a sentence as possible (this means the word becomes a noun, verb, adverb, adjective, and sometimes even pronouns), watching a sporting event and yelling loudly either at the stadium or just at your tv (the yelling doesn't accomplish anything but the fact that your opinion is right and you want everyone around you to know it does. yell away my friends), watching a masculine movie (I.E. alot of stuff blows up, there are hot girls, sports movie, or a crude comedy. The more of these within one movie the better), and finally, breaking/burning/smashing/killing something (pretty self explanitory).

4. This is a slight change of pace but hang out with the elementary school kids. Seriously, those little runts are to die for. Sure they are germ invested, slightly annoying, and moody, but seriously, I love their guts.

5. Cussing over xbox live. If you haven't done it.....you don't understand. If you have..... well you know what i'm talking about and don't need any other explanation.

6. A crutch. Mine was soda and a chick flick. Gay, I know but screw you. Everyone has one. It's that something in your life that you can always rely on when everything else sucks. It could be a person but even they fall through. No these crutches are objects. It's like smoking when you're stressed. Could be a movie, song, food, or activity. They are necessary to get through the week sometimes.....You gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

7. A warm shower. They fix everything. I dunno what it is but it does.

8. Helping someone else. I'm an ass....Okay not really but I pretend. Normally, I keep to myself but I still try to be decent to everyone else. Not going to lie, holding the door open for a girl at school and getting that shy thank you smile back.... is a pretty damn good feeling. So thank you to the girl who smiled when I held hte door for her. You probably will never know it, but you saved a little piece of my soul.

9. For a few mooments driving to school one day, i had a flashback to iowa. I think it was the snow on the ground and the dead brown color of the plants around UVU that made me think about it. Normally, Iowa is pretty hard for me..... but this time, for what ever reason, I felt stronger because of it. I've been kinda down this week, dunno why, but knowing i got through Iowa in someway or another..... well it gives me hope in myself.

10. Lastly, a small self pep talk. I can't tell you what I said but it helped. Give yourself a break and do it. Just a small.... "i think i can, i think i can" pep talk.