Cogito Ergo Sum: I think, therefore I am.

Anxiety & Hemlock, a parallel.

2011-10-13T00:05:00.002-06:00

Hemlock. Most will know this plant for it's famous role in the life of the great Socrates. It is said that Socrates was put to death for crimes against the state and corrupting the youth in ancient Greece by hemlock. The opportunity was offered that he escape and live in exile but the ever noble Socrates chose to take his punishment. To make the story that much legendary, it is said that Socrates had to drink a lot more than normal in order for the poison to do its work. RIP Socrates.

What most don't know is that in small doses Hemlock was actually used for medicinal purposes. It actually could HELP your body. Which only fuels the old adage that too much of a good thing is bad. Really bad in this case.

I've noticed throughout my life that I have this tendency to focus on the former type knowledge about something. I view things as a negative, something to overcome, something to get through. I addressed my anxiety in such a way. It was something I had to fight. It was a negative. Something to overcome.

My recent struggles with the disorder have caused me to come out of it looking at it in a different light. It falls into the latter of the examples. Anxiety can actually be a positive in life. When kept under control and in moderation. This does not mean that I think those of us suffering through the disease should just embrace it and let it go nuts. Rather, that with the help of medication, meditation, therapy, and positive thinking, a little anxiety isn't such a bad thing.

As an explanation for this I can only state my own outlook on my life. Anxiety has been a bitch in my life. It's caused situations that shouldn't have been difficult to be a fight for survival. I've had to wake up some mornings only to feel that the next 24 hours were just me treading water, trying to keep my head above the waves. I was drowning. I hated it. It hated me. All i wanted to do was quit and let myself sink, but the thought of that scared me more than my desire to give in.

So I continued to tread. I continued to swim. I continued to fight. I got help. I got medicated. I started going to therapy. I started opening up about the things that were causing it. I've gotten to the point where I feel like I can deal with it. I'm no longer in the deep end of the pool, kicking, struggling, trying to survive. I'm in the shallow end. The water is at my waist. It's not gone but I'm able to deal. I thought that I was content with that.

Then I looked down at the water and noticed something. My metaphorical leg muscles were huge. All that kicking had made them sinewy and ripped. I was stronger than when I started. I could wade out into the pool and I could handle being in the deep in for extended periods of time without stress. Without tiring, without feeling like I was gonna drown.

That is how my battle with anxiety has changed. I feel now I can handle situations that I avoided. I feel stronger. that doesn't mean I want to jump into those stressful situations, but rather, I have a knowledge that I can handle them should they arise and I don't have to go out of my way to avoid them.

My perspective had changed. I had been drinking a little hemlock everyday and my immunity to it grew. I even benefited from it.

Anxiety is a terrible terrible thing and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I couldn't understand why God had put me in such a situation. To make me suffer through it. To make anyone suffer through it. But now, now I think I know what his purpose was. It was to show me that there was a greatness inside of me that I would have never been able to find otherwise. It was to show me that even dealing with something so extremely difficult. I had enough power and strength that I could hold on and come out of it better. That every time it flares up. It's just a motivator.

I am stronger for having anxiety as crazy as that may seem. There are days that I'll hate it and it'll be the worse thing in the world. I know I can get through those days.

There was a philosopher, I can't remember who though, said something along the lines of: That we can't possible know how big a rectangle is until we find it's limits, it's borders. We are limited by infinity because we don't know where those lines are. That's how life is. We like to think that we can do ANYTHING but the truth is. We can't do Anything until we know what we can't do. Once we know what we can't do, then we can try to move beyond it.

Anxiety helps draw those lines and it can help us move beyond them as well.

Hang in there my friends. You will be stronger for having to deal with this. You will reveal a greatness in you that you never would have been able to find without it. Keep treading.

My mission statement.

2011-09-27T00:10:00.001-06:00

My therapist posed this question to me last thursday. He asked me what my life mission or motto would be. Knowing what my desires or life motto is would maybe help me swim the currents of life a little better. Give me something to turn to or at least knowing in the back of my mind how I wanted to handle what life throws at me. I thought this was a very interesting idea so I decided I would sit down and hash out what kind of person I want to be/how I would look at life.

Mood Music- Bach playlist

As I was thinking about this in the shower after a few hours of playing ball with my boys, there was one thing I seemed to keep relating too. That was a tree.

I'd like to think that my life began was I was carefully placed in a specific situation by a loving hand (God). I was laid carefully in fertile ground and which insured that I would receive both the loving support I needed for my roots but also the freedom to spread my wings. I am still a young tree, not a sapling a bit older but far from being the strong oak or giant redwood that I would like to be.

I want to be an individual who has strongly laid roots. I want to settle in a location that is home. I want my roots to spread wide and grow strong. I want to have firm ideals, morals, and beliefs. I want to be strong enough that I can defend or declare these beliefs and opinions with enough vigor as to get my point across but not have them forced on others. I also would like to be a tree that can yield. I want to be able to open to new ideas and beliefs. I want to be able to bend but not break. I want to be open minded and compassionate enough that I may recognize others have just as valid beliefs as myself, even if they are complete opposites.

Eventually I would like my lone tree to turn into a small copse of trees. I would like to be able to provide them protection from the elements of life but also be able to allow them enough room and space to grow strong on their own. That they too may grow strong roots and be healthy.

I want to be a tree that provides protection for those who need it. One that provides relief for the weary. Fruit for the hungry and provides shade for the burdened.

I want to be a tree that is known, a tree that is admired, a tree that is beautiful and a tree that is practical.

Oh and I wouldn't mind being a handsome tree =)

Terrified.

2011-09-01T22:07:00.003-06:00

I need to write. I don't know about what but I need to write. I feel like I'm on the verge of a Panic Attack or Anxiety Attack. It kinda feels like the calm right before the storm. I'm tense, I feel hopeless, and my meditation/breathing techniques feel like they are trying to bail out a sinking ship with a teaspoon.

I don't know why I'm stressed. I should be relatively happy. A lot of things are going right. I have an easy enough Job at the school which is giving me something to do for a few hours a day. It lets be get to be around the students who really brighten my day. It also gives me at least a little income to save up and pay off my bills with. It's not much but it's better than nothing. Especially with my anxiety.

I have some direction with schooling now. I've got my study helps for the GRE and have been trying to study a little every day. I know when deadlines and stuff are for applying to grad school and I have goals set. I'm pretty rusty at math because I haven't done any in 5 years and my verbal skills aren't where I want them to be, but I think I can get there.

Things are good at home. Things are good with my friends. Although I miss Jeremy and his family a lot. It's been hard having them gone especially when I've spent so much time with them over the years. Heck, things are even good with Kelly. We've talked everyday this week. No drama. I really opened up to her about how I felt towards her and I think it might have helped strengthen our relationship.

So why am I freaking out right now? Why do I feel like everything is hopeless. I'm going to fail at everything. I'm not gonna get into BYU or I will and the program won't be what I want to do with my life. I'm not going to find a career and I'm always going to be strapped for cash. Hell, even all my friends are getting married and are moving on. They are going to leave me alone. This is how I feel. I have no reason to feel that way and I keep reminding myself that everything is alright. Even if all that happens I'll still be okay. I'll survive.

I'm terrified right now that I'm never going to beat this anxiety. That the knot in my tummy isn't ever gonna go away completely. That it's going to keep me from having a lasting relationship with a spouse and children. That I'll be too worried about things to ever really enjoy anything again. It's scary and I'm scared.

I talked to my therapist today and kinda told him what I've been feeling the last week or two. That my progress has leveled off and I'm not going forward anymore. I told him that I'm planning on upping my meds. Which I found out are only anxiety meds and not anti depressants as well. Hopefully upping the dosage with help me get rid of the stress and that will have an affect on my depression. I hope it helps.

I'll be okay. I think. I just wish Kelly would call so I could take my mind off things for a while.

Gratitude

2011-08-31T14:32:00.003-06:00

I'm feeling pretty good today. Yesterday was kind of "blah" but I feel re-energized right now. At least as of 2:30 in the afternoon. I thought maybe I would try to change the tone of today's post to something happier. An expression of gratitude if you will.

Perhaps the one good thing that has come out of my anxiety is the incredible people that I've had in my life which have helped me deal with it. There are way too many people to thank, friends, family, mission buddies, doctors, etc. So I'll just do one big shout out to everyone and say Thank you.

I hate Anxiety and depression. Hate it. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. However, I am grateful for the relationships that have come out of it and the feelings of kinship I have with others who have gone through similar situations. It's a bonding experience that comes from something horrible. It's a constant reminder that there are others around you who are going through the same things you are or who have already dealt with it and are willing to extend a hand down into your darkness.

If there is one thing I've learned from my experiences thus far, it's that being quiet and trying to deal with it on your own is not the answer. I was able to beat down my anxiety upon arriving home from my mission and ignored it. I didn't really talk about it and I thought if I just didn't worry about it, it wouldn't keep happening. I thought I had removed myself from the problem and that the illness would go away. I didn't know that the problem was inside of me and was just waiting to bubble over again. Now I know that was the wrong thing to do. It's certainly something we don't have to go through alone.

So today I am grateful. Grateful for my family and friends who've supported me. Those who've reached out to me. Those who've listened to my crazed worry-filled exclamations day in and day out. Today is a good day and I'm going to enjoy it for what it is, while it lasts. It's these moments that are stress free that I've come to appreciate most.

This made me smile:

Rituals.

2011-08-29T22:53:00.004-06:00

There is something to be said about having a ritual or habit. It's one of those things in life that make us feel comfortable. It's reliable. Whether it's that we have pizza every friday night, we tune into our favorite TV show every Tuesday, or even that at midnight every day you take your meds. I have many of these kind of rituals and habits. I usually wake up and pee at a certain time then go back to sleep for a bit. My family eats dinner around 6 pm every evening. There is football during the fall and winter every Sunday and Monday night. These are things that I love. Things I rely on. Things that I find comfort in.

One of these newer things lately has been talking to Kelly before we fall asleep at night. It's been going on since we first met. The timing has varied but after 9 I start expecting that call from her when she gets in bed. I love it. I love knowing that I'm the last person she talks to before falling asleep is me. I love knowing when she's about to fall asleep because of how quiet her voice gets. I love hearing her fan whirring in the background and the soft meows coming from her cat. It's just nice. Nice to have something like that to close the day with.

Now you may read this and go, "wow, what a chick!" or "That's kinda cute." It's gotten beyond that though. It's something that I've started to rely on. There are days when I'm busy or Kelly is busy and we don't get to talk. No big deal right? For whatever reason, it's a big deal to my anxiety. It's become a double edged sword and I really don't know what to do about it. If 11 rolls around and I haven't gotten a call yet, I start to get a little stressed. A little nervous. I'm not even sure why.

It's ridiculous really. It's unrealistic to have expectations like that. Especially when you're not dating someone or married. You don't always get to talk to people. The thing is. I have friends that I talk to daily. If I don't get to talk to them one day, it's usually not a big deal. No stress. No worry. No anxiety. With Kelly though. It can get to the point where I am not able to sleep the next night or that I feel tense until the next time we get to talk. Which really isn't fair. It's not fair to her to have that kind of pressure put on her and it's not fair to me to feel that way or to feel like an idiot about feeling that way.

The thing is. I really don't know how to stop it. My mind can constantly reassure myself that everything is ok. I mean I KNOW it'll be okay the next day. I know that most likely I'll talk to her the following day. So why does my body react this way? Why do I get this pit in my stomach?

This is the thing that makes anxiety so frustrating for me. It's that I can know for a fact that I'll be ok or things will work out but I will still get anxious and stressed. I don't know how to explain it. It's like having the flu without being sick. You can be in a completely healthy state but still throw up over and over and over. This is what this anxiety has become in a lot of ways.

So i ask myself: Why is this happening?

1. It could just because it's a habit and when it doesn't happen it feels like something's amiss. (I don't know if this is the case though. If I miss dinner with the family, or if I don't get to watch football, there is no stress. No problem.)

2. Is it because I'm nervous she's forgetting me or leaving me? (I think at some level it might be an abandonment issue. It's that I have no control over the situation. I know I really like this girl and I'm pretty sure she likes me too. I know that it would suck if she left me for someone else. I'd probably feel pretty shitty for a long while, but I know as much as it would hurt. I would survive.

Plus, there is the fact that it's not fair to her. I don't want to be clingy or come off clingy. No one likes that. I don't want her to feel like she HAS to talk to me either. I know she has a life and that's good. Any relationship I have with anyone on any level is going to be like this. I have no control over them or the situation and I can't have unrealistic expectations about it. This is something I need to work on, but I don't know if this is what's causing me to get nervous at night when we don't talk.)

3. Maybe it's a combination of 1&2.

So how do I fix it?

1. Stop talking everyday. (I don't want to do this. Why? I like the girl alot. I like everything about talking to her before we fall asleep. It's awesome and it makes me feel good about myself. Not only that, if we stopped talking everyday, that would probably mean we'd never have a shot at a relationship. Right now all we have is talking on the phone and I really want it to go further than that. I wanna date her.)

2. Get over it. (This is what I want to happen and have been trying to work on. I know such expectations of talking everyday are unrealistic. Rationally and emotionally I feel like I should be fine with not talking to her once in a while. I realize things come up. I mean I'll continue to WANT to talk to her everynight but if it doesn't happen, I should be able to understand that and go on with life till we get to talk again. So why isn't this happening?)

3. I do my meditation and take my medication. (I've been doing both of these but it still seems to occur. It's not nearly as bad as it used to be a few weeks ago but it still happens and I would like it to be gone completely.)

4. Talk to her about it. (I don't know if I want to go down this road or not. It's not fair for me to put that kind of pressure on her. We aren't boyfriend and girlfriend. It's not fair to expect her to do something everyday. It's not fair to stress her out because I'm stressing out over something stupid. This is something I need to deal with. It's something that I'm going to have to get used to if I want to have any type of relationship. I need to be able to give people space and have the strength of character to just let things be. I can't control everything or change everything or expect others to do everything for me.)

So for right now I'm stuck trying to cope with it and even as I write this I feel a little nervous because it's 11:30 and I haven't gotten a call from her yet. I know things are ok because we texted earlier. So why am I stressing? I want to work on this. If she doesn't call tonight. I'm going to be ok.

Anxiety journal

2011-08-28T18:12:00.005-06:00

I haven't written here for a while. I don't think anyone really noticed anyways. I think I'm going to try and use this here as an outlet for my anxiety. A way of expressing myself. The thoughts and feelings I'm having that are irrational and eccentric. Maybe it'll help, maybe it won't but it's worth a try.

This past summer has probably been the worst anxiety filled 3-4 months since my mission. Which is worrisome for a few reasons. 1. While it hasn't been as severe as it was on my mission or as intense it's been happening longer now then when I was in Iowa. 2. There doesn't seem to be a place for me to retreat to in order to overcome it. In Iowa my thought was always "If I can get home, than I can deal with this and i'll be safe." Now it just feels like the pit in my stomach follows me everywhere I go most days. There are moments of relief. There are days when I feel fine and then there are days like today where I just feel like I'm not getting any better. All the progress i had been making with the meds and therapist visits are slowing down. That troubles me.

I guess I always knew that I wouldn't ever be able to beat this completely. It would always lurk there in the back of my mind but I thought I'd be able to lock it up. That I would have enough weapons against it that it would rarely, if ever, get out of control. As I started the meds and therapy, there was hope that this would happen. I started going to church, taking meds, doing meditation, thinking happy thoughts, and visiting my doctor once a week. I felt I could beat this. I'm over a month into it now and I am already starting to wear out.

The stress is better now. The meditation helps slow down any attacks and the meds really take a bite out of them. I still have to fight thought. I'm just tired of it.

When I'm out camping with my friends for 2 days I shouldn't be stressing out. I should be enjoying myself. For the most part that's what happened, but the second night out there I had an attack. I'm not sure what triggered it. Not sure if it was the pitch black room I was sleeping in, if it was because I couldn't just go home, or if it was because I was missing Kelly. It happened though and that's frustrating. My mother says I should be proud that I was even able to go and handle it, that it was a big step. I just find it annoying. My friends aren't stressed out about this kinda crap while we are together, why am I?

The same can be said of my relationship with the gorgeous blonde girl I've been trying to date all summer. Honestly, a year ago I would just have been happy that someone that goodlooking liked me and was talking to me every night. This summer its a completely different story. I like her and I like talking to her and I even want to date her. She says she wants all those things too. Which should make me completely happy. Yet, for some reason I can't get over little things. She's busy and doesn't text back often and instead of being happy when she does, I worry I've done something wrong when she doesn't. It's not healthy to have that kind of expectations for someone else. Especially when you're not in a relationship. I shouldn't be expecting a phone call or a text everyday. I blow it out of proportion though. My tummy is in knots because I didn't get a phone call from her lastnight. She was with her brothers and then her roommates at a party, enjoying her last weekend before school starts. I want her to have those experiences, to enjoy herself, to not feel obligated. My body acts differently though. It gets stressed and tense. I wake up at 4:30 in the morning and am up till 6 because I can't fall asleep for more than 10 minutes at a time. My mind keeps telling it everything is fine but it seems to think differently.

It's not healthy. Yea, the relationship we have is a little weird and somewhat stressful. Anyone else I know would just be happy with it. Not stress over it. I over analyze it and make myself sick. I hate that. I want to be care free and anxious free.

So that brings me to right now. I'm terrified of everything and nothing at the same time. I feel stuck and I'm really not. I feel like every choice I make has to be perfect and it doesn't. I can't seem to give myself a break. Anxiety is a bitch. So when my parents ask me if I'm feeling suicidal. I'm not. (really I'm not). That doesn't mean that 3 hours ago while sitting in church feeling stressed out over nothing that I was contemplating it. Not in the "oh i'm going to do this way" but in the daydreamy "what if" sort of way. i wouldn't have to deal with the anxiety anymore. I could never do it though. I want too much out of life. I want to experience love, and children, and a profession. I could never hurt my friends and family by ending myself. It makes me feel gut wrenchingly guilty just thinking about it. I love them too much and i want to be around them too much. I just don't want the anxiety anymore. Any of it. I want to be 10 again and doing everything without a care in the world. The problem with being an adult is that we are so worried about the consquences of everything. As a child, we are just in it for the moment. I want to get back to that attitude sometime in my life. For now though, I'd be content with just being able to concentrate on what's on TV without being paranoid over when Kelly is going to call, or if I'm going to pass the GRE, or if the MPA program is really what I want to do with my life.

So yea. Anxiety is a bitch. I miss Jeremy. I dunno what I'm doing with my life. Oh, and I really like Kelly. Peachy. Somehow I'll hold on. Somehow.

If anyone out there is also dealing with Anxiety, panic disorders, or unusual levels of stress. I would love to hear how you're coping with it.

Anxiety

2011-05-30T23:27:00.004-06:00

This is directed at women. Not anyone particularly but all of them with the same level of importance.

It's not fair. It's just simply not fair that I can sit here on pins and needles stressed out over whether or not you like me. I can't help that I like you and I can't help but what that reciprocated back. I'm only human. On the flip side, I realize you also have feelings of stress and worries. They are probably very similiar to mine, in fact. I can't say much on this because I am only a man and I can only tell you about my feelings.

I'm 23 years old and have an anxiety disorder that none to kindly showed up on my mission. 4 almost 5 years later, i am kind of over the whole thing. Not like "recovered" more like "fed up." I'm just so tired of this shit. Mostly because it pops up in the most random of situations and out of the blue now. I've beaten it back and repressed it enough that it only leaks out over the stupidest of shit.

Which brings me to where I'm at now. I don't date alot. Never have. I'm somewhat of a flirt though. Not because I want the attention, but because I like the feeling of knowing I'm making someone else smile and that in return they are also being affectionate. I don't do it because I have some under cut need to get action. I do it because it makes me feel good and i think it makes others feel good as well. Honestly, I think I'm just a nice guy. I'm not a player. I hate those guys and I hate when people think I am.

So now, at the anciently seeming age of 23 I've decided I want to start dating. So what happens? My seemingly dormant anxiety problem has blown up all over the place the last few weeks. Im scared shitless. All because I am worried about whether or not some girl is going to like me back or if she is mad at me. Now I realize it's not fair for me to put all this on girls. They can't help that I'm crazy. ON the other hand, they can do better than standing me up at the fkin movies, or telling me they'll call me and then just never hearing from them again. They can do better than telling me I'm a jerk on the phone because 2 weeks ago I was crushing on someone else or that I have a history with other girls.

My point is. I'm 23. I have a history. I've had a few female friends. Not alot. I have though. I can' thelp that. I can't help that i've done some pretty stupid shit in my time. I'm only 23 though and if some girl is willing to give me a shot. I can promise that I can do better, that I can make them my future if they are willing to forget my past. I'm not perfect.

I'm tired of trying to be perfect. I'm tired of this anxiety. I'm tired of feeling broken. I am Jason. 23 year old Jason. No better, no worse. Im trying to move forward, I just wish my body would let me, but I suppose we all have demons.

Damn demons.

The Day the Earth Stood Still

2011-03-10T01:33:00.003-07:00

Through sheer boredom the other night I decided to pop in The Day the Earth Stood Still. Not the ridiculously long old black and white verision but the new bastardized, Keanu (My name means cool breeze going over the mountain) Reeves verision. It's not amazing, it's not completely awful, but I wouldn't waste your time with it unless you have nothing better to do.

ANYWAYS, my point here is that during the height of the plot some noble prize winning old dude argues with the Alien that humanity can change their ways. The alien disagrees but the wise old fart tells him that humanity can only change when they are forced to the prepice of disaster.

and that's what struck me.

I am completely like this. I only make significant changes when I'm faced with utter destruction. Okay, so I've really never had my life threatened (except for the time I almost stepped on a rattlesnake, or the time I locked myself in the trunk of my car for 30 minutes and was only saved because my mom got a prompting, or the time I was driving with cassie and a giant ass car flew through the air and nearly killed us all, or that time Jack Bauer saved us from the nuclear blast on 24) but there have been significant moments in my life which have caused me to change.
and lately I'm feeling like I want to change again but I don't have the will power to do so without something drastic happening.

So do I create a catalyst of events I have no control over in order to change, or do I continue to try and change even though I've been trying for years to know avail, or do I just give up.

If only the earth would stay still for a while while I decide.

God save us all.

2011-01-17T03:20:00.003-07:00

There it is. Sitting there. It's inviting. It's addicting. It carries itself with a come hither look that seduces you the moment you lay eyes on it.

Then....

You pounce. You tear into it wantonly. Inhibitionless. It's beautiful. It's horrifying. It's enticing. You embrace it and smother it with adoration. It yeilds to you. You possess it and it gives itself freely. Every thought and twitch of physical exerition it gives way. Pure bliss. Sexual, carnal, satisfying bliss.

The moment passes. You become conscious again. Aware. Then it sets in. You stand back in shock. Disgusting. You are disgusting. Vile. Weak. Helpless. There's no way that just happened. But it did.

Whimper... Denial....

Never again. You'll turn your back on it next time. You won't give in. You hide it. Bury it. Lie to yourself. No one knows, and the ones who do don't care. You're safe. Ashamed. Hurt. You're fine.

Deep down you know.....

It'll happen again. It always does. It's hidden in the back of your mind. Hanging there. Waiting. Singing it's siren song softly. Unaware. You sail quietly back into it's waters. Playing cat and mouse with disappointment.

This is how I feel when it comes to flaws. I consistantly indulge in things I know are bad for me. Debates. Disappointment. Dating. Lies. Gluttony. Jealousy. Drama. Sins.

I can't get away. I try to lie to myself. Somehow I'll avoid them next time. I won't partake. The forbidden fruit won't tempt me. The siren's song won't have any affect. I know that it's bullshit. I'll give in. One way or another, I'll give in. I don't have the character strength to deny myself for too long. I'm carnal. Animalistic. I give into my lusts for the sweet nector of rebelliousness they drip. Then I find myself coated by the pits and residue of the fruit. Shocked, horrified, disgusted, angry, hurt, disappointed.

"WTF!?" I exclaim, "How did this happen again?" "FML."

I suppose we all feel this way about certain things. We spend lifetimes trying to overcome them. At 23, I'm just sick of them already. Can I please move on? Let myself move on?

The answer is no. My character flaws are built in with my good characteristics. We can only improve but never remove. We are stuck with blemishes that never truly fade.

Nietzsche was right. What sets us apart from the animals is guilt. That somehow, in our memory, unable to forget, our guilt helps shape us. Defines certain aspects of ourselves. For good or for bad, that's just how it is.

God help us all.... You're the only one who can fix us.

Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T23:38:00.001-07:00

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

Awareness

2010-12-11T01:21:00.003-07:00

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

2010-11-24T01:52:00.004-07:00

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!

2010-11-02T23:14:00.003-06:00

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

2010-10-31T00:38:00.002-06:00

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

2010-10-15T02:37:00.001-06:00

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

The Race

2010-10-02T02:21:00.004-06:00

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)

2010-09-20T01:05:00.005-06:00

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

2010-09-15T00:08:00.003-06:00

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

2010-09-04T02:10:00.004-06:00

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

2010-08-15T01:47:00.003-06:00

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

2010-07-29T02:25:00.002-06:00

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

2010-07-23T01:38:00.004-06:00

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.

2010-07-12T01:30:00.003-06:00

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.

2010-06-27T15:42:00.003-06:00

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

2010-05-31T02:06:00.003-06:00

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!

2010-04-29T01:12:00.003-06:00

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?

2010-03-28T03:01:00.005-06:00

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

2010-03-16T01:46:00.003-06:00

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

2010-03-13T02:15:00.002-07:00

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

2010-03-03T00:51:00.004-07:00

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

2010-03-02T01:28:00.003-07:00

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

2010-01-27T02:04:00.002-07:00

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

2010-01-18T03:00:00.001-07:00

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

2010-01-16T02:12:00.004-07:00

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.

Time...

2009-12-28T02:08:00.004-07:00

I've noticed through out all my blog reading that everyone seems to have their own expression with how they write. I know that's a pretty obvious statement since everyone has their own personality. It's rather intimidating. Everyone does such a good job of stringing together their thoughts, making the whole thing both poetic and coherent. My enteries never turn out as such. They are like a cluttered diary. It feels forced like i'm trying to prove something with my writing. I guess I'm like the bad authors I've come to hate for their forcing of specific details, down to the elaborate and oh so fake, story line. Oh well.

Christmas came and went. It never seems to meet the hype that it gets. Perhaps that's must for me though. I think what kills me is my utter lack of truly being able to hold myself back from getting attached. I'm so caught up in trying to make all these memories last that I spend more time being depressed that nothigns the same instead of enjoying the precious feeling moments.

This is what I've discovered about myself. I'm a horrible flake and if you asked anyone they would agree. I bail on the simplest and least stressful things, as well as, the things that seem to matter most. You may ask why I continue to do so even though I recognize this flaw. The answer is quiet blatently that I can't help it. It's a horrible defense mechanism that I've some how built in to myself. I'm terrified of getting attached and having everything go to shit. I think for normal people this isn't such a fault, they just turn into an asshole and never let anyone get close. However, for whatever brilliant combination of God, genetics, nature, and my environment, I get attached to easily and so fast that being hurt is enevitable. I literally get sad over running into a complete stranger and never being able to see that person again. Pathetic.

On top of all this, I have some inner struggle between hating the universe and loving everything about it. This makes it completely impossible for me to be anything but briefly happy. I live a tortured cycle of A) being depressed because nothing stays the same and everything changes, B) I recognize A and try to avoid it, C) fail miserably at B and end back at A.

Thus, the only control I feel have over myself and of time is to flake or try to hold myself back. I realize the irony of this because it costs me alot of fun experiences. What's more painful in the grand scheme of things though? When we look back in reflection of our lives, we remember either our happy moments or our sad moments. Both of these are usually painful. Either because we can't change what made us sad or because we no longer can experience our happy ones (we can't relive them). Rarely, do we ever remember the nights spent sitting alone in our rooms playing xbox. So now I've convinced myself the only true way of not being miserable in the future is to not do anything in the present. It'll backfire.

So, this, like most of my problems all comes about because of one thing. I think too much. It's great because it saves me alot of hassel but at the same time it continuely effs me over so hard I feel like I've just taken two different showers in prison. My poor ass.

I guess this just makes it all the more obvious to recognize that life is fleeting, beautiful, and utterly tragic. That is why we connect with art that reminds us of ourselves. We hope that in some small way that our memories and tragic existence last in some small way. Whether it's a book, a song, a movie, a painting, or a picture, or any medium of art. Hell, that's why we blog.

So, what do I learn from all this after writing it down in a brief entry that doesn't possibly touch the inner turmoil and effed up life I think I live? That I seriously want to have some significance in life. I want the fact that I used to race Big Wheels around my neighborhood with my next year neighbor to matter. I want the morning I woke up to find my dog Sunny died to make a mark somewhere. I want the lunch that I spent reading Cold Sassy Tree alone on the football stadium bleachers to be a defining event in the vast infinity of time..... to sum it all up

Time: Isn't it a Bitch?

My inferno

2009-12-21T02:11:00.005-07:00

Ugh. 2:11 on a Monday morning. I'm caught staring out the frosted window out to the street. The streetlights reflect off the snow and the moon is hidden by thick clouds. There is a chill in the air, and it taktes me back to places I don't want to go...

Three years ago, almost to the day, I stood staring out the same window. Snow was falling then. It covered everything in soft white blankets. I spent the night writing about how it made me felt. It wasn't honest though, it was more of just a motivation for what was to come. I was going to be shipped out to Iowa. I was terrified. I still am terrified.

I remember the morning I was to enter the MTC. I hadn't slept at all that night. My beautiful friend Cortni had spent the whole night up with me, texting me. She was amazing. I miss her. That morning, I was wide awake and scared shitless. I joked with my mother about letting me stay home. I was begging her inside to let me. That's where it all started. I tried to be too strong and do somethign I wasn't ready for.

3 years later, i'm slowly recovering. It's painful. My courage, my strength, my whimsy, they are all like shattered windows, clumsly put back together with some an awful glue job. I get bye though. I just keep breathing. I'd like to say that the effect has worn off and that somehow I am normal again. I am for the most part. I have horrible weak moments though. The terrified feelings i felt that cold December morning leak back into th eback of my mind. It's crippling when it happens. I have to start all over again after each episode.

So what do i have to say about it now, 3 years later, at 2 am, on a cold December morning? Absolutely nothing. I feel like I am still as lost as I have ever been. The days have progressed, i'm further done with my schooling but I have no direction. It terrifies me. My friends are all getting married and having kids......I don't even have a girlfriend....I haven't had a girlfriend in years.

Honestly, to be perfectly frank, I don't think I could handle one either. I'm so scared I'd mess up. I'm scared of messing up again because I never want to go through another Iowa situation ever again. I don't want to fall in love and have all that pressure and not know what the hell i'm going to do. Falling in love shouldn't be like that, it should be easy. The easiest thing in the world, I'm scared that in my position with my history it'll just become work.

How the hell is everyone else ready to get married and i'm scared to even say the word. i want to get married, more than any of them i think. I want that, I want kids. I look at my friends daughter, Amanda....she's beautiful. She's adorable. I want that. I'm just too scared to take the shot.

I'm not ready.

Not being ready is almost as terrifying as being ready....

Can I go to sleep now please? Could I please just go back to that night 3 years ago and lay softly in the think white blankets of snow? Maybe never take the leap.....

Hindsight is always 20/20 though. 3 years ago i tripped and fell on my own blade. I wish God had finished the job then and there..... Cause the healing process hurts.

It hurts.

"Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence for my old father, nor due affliction which joyous should have made Penolope, could overcome within me the desre I had to be experienced of the world, and of the vice, and of the virtue of mankind...." - Dante's Inferno

Smoking

2009-11-16T11:04:00.002-07:00

I really want to to smoke..... I'm not entirely sure why but lately I have had an overwhelming desire to buy a pack of cigs and let loose. I realize that it's a slippery slope from there so I doubt I'd have the guts to play with someone that is addictive. Still though. I want to. maybe it's the smell of second hand smoke lingering like a warm embrace on the cold air. It hangs lazily for minutes before fading. Lung cancer certainly doesn't seem cool but the smell of a cig on a chilly autumn afternoon and the smell of coffee is enough to cause me to melt....

I find myself contemplating whether or not I am happy these days. I went to an acoustic concert Friday night and the people there really made me wish I could act differently than I do. I want tatoos. I want to pierce my bottom lip. I want to wear skinny jeans and old sweaters. I want my jet black hair to fall in my face. I want to sit in little cafe's with a cup of coffee reading existentialist philosophies....... I want to hook up with some girl with long scene kid hair. Skinny jeans and snake bytes piercings.

So what stops us from doing what would make us happy? Society, Religion, Family, Peers.......Guilt?

Sigh.

God Bless the USA

2009-10-09T21:14:00.002-06:00

I just need to rant for a moment....

Really America? REALLY!? What the hell has our national pride come to when we'd rather cheer the failures of our President than potential success for our nation? Even worse, when the world rewards our President and shows faith in our nation, we complain!? We say that he didn't deserve it rather than celebrate a monumental step in the thought process of the World! For years, they've been sick and tired of the American ignorance and now they finally show faith in us and we spit on it.

Last I checked being American meant realizing that we are greater than the parts of our sum. That the successes of all of us benefit everyone. It doesn't matter what religion, what culture, what race, what sex you are. It matters that you live here, that the flag is burned into your heart, that you recongize the sacrifices of those who protect your freedom is great, that the labors of the middle class push the country forward, that the innovations which come from 0ur education system raise us to new heights. It's about realizing that the from sea to purple sea and across every amber wave of grain, we are ONE, even if our ideals differ. Being American means the world to me. I try hard to contribute and appreciate what that means. The weight that it holds and the blessing that it is. I don't care what party your from, what the ethics and morals you believe in are, or even what race you are. Let's help this nation continue to be great. Not only for us, not only for our children, but also as a light to the rest of the world.

That is why they gave Obama the Peace Prize. They put hope and faith in us. We are the shining light of freedom in the dark nights of opression. Can't we put aside our differences long enough to celebrate that huge show of faith in the American dream? Can't we we be more than the sum of our parts? Can't we be..............great?

"I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free. And I won't forget the men who died, who gave that right to me! I will proudly stand up, next to you, and defend her still today! Cause there ain't no doubt, I love this land......God Bless the USA."

Can't read my.....can't read my poker face

2009-10-06T01:07:00.002-06:00

Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun......

I want to write something creative. Slit my aching heart and let it bleed all over the page. I want it splattered and stained with all my teenage angst. I want the edges burned and charred black with my fury. I want it to lie in a dark corner of a candle lit room, crumbled and discarded. Left to sit, a monument to failure, to love, to complete and uttery misery. Twilight reveals raw emotion but the world will never know. The ace of spades is only beaten by the queen of hearts........but she can't read my poker face.

Can't read my poker face.

Pick your Poison

2009-09-28T11:31:00.005-06:00

I brought along all my Comparative Politics essentials today in an effort to try to cram some studying into the hour break I have between classes today. This was done with the hope that I would get some studying done before my test tomorrow. However, I developed an itch during my first class of the day to write, or at least vomit my thoughts on to a page in some coherent manner.

Hemlock. Recently, in one of my classes we have been talking about the nuances of the Greek word "Pharmakon." Pharmakon is one of those nasty foregin words that can be translated to many different English words. Ironically, it contains two conflicting words within it's translation making it all the more tricky to decipher. It can be translated as a remedy or a medicine, but it also can just be equally right if translated as poison. Humorous, but it makes alot of sense.

Alot of medicines in the wrong doses can become deadly. Alot of poisons they are now finding, if used right can actually be used to cure many illnesses. Don't believe me, watch the documentaries they have on Animal Planet about the uses of Venom. It's amazing. (This has nothing to do with my post but it's things like this make the exitence of a God just seem to hard to deny. The world is amazing, the human body, the universe, it's just too amazing and well crafted to possibly have come about because of some random ass big bang. You don't have to agree, but I for one, think it impossible to deny some sort of Supreme Creator.)

Back to the hemlock. Everyone knows of hemlock, probably because of it's famous use to kill Socrates. A tribunal was brought up in Greece, Socrates was sentenced to death by hemlock for corrupting the youth and preeching against the Gods. Whether that is true or not is up to Historical debates. I tend to lean on the Platonic side, Socrates to me, will always be a superhuman individual who changed the landscape of rational thinking. If greatness is determined by an individuals affect on history....there are few individuals who even come close to rivaling Socrates' impact. I digress though...

Socrates had the opportunity to flee prison and save himself. He could have lived in exile. Rather, he chose to drink the hemlock (a very very large portion in fact). His reasoning is unknown, whether or not it was to be a martyr is debatable. Years later, another famous thinker by the name of Aristotle was also charged with trumped charges. Rather than accepting death, Aristotle chose exile.

The point I'm trying to make from this drivaling nonesense is that maybe the hemlock was a remedy for Socrates. A justified suicide. Isn't accepting death over taking extreme actions just a justified suicide? I suppose the ethical arguments of such a statement would be another blog all together. The point is, Socrates was an old man, his capacities of knowledge far exceed anything I could ever hope to accomplish, the dialogues written about him often express his thoughts on the afterlife being the only way to truly acquire knowledge of the "forms," he even thought the soul was eternal. With beliefs like that, who wouldn't take the hemlock? If anything it became a remedy for Socrates. He escaped the increasing social anger directed towards his teaching, he escaped the decline of the Greek dominance, and most importantly he was released from mortality which hinders true knowledge.

So my question for all becomes.....what is your hemlock? What is your pharmakon? Pick your poison.....

Autumn

2009-09-21T11:14:00.002-06:00

There have been a few times since my last post where I have attempted to write something. I would start but quickly lose interest. For some reason I haven't been in the writing mood. Either that or I feel superiorly infererior to my friends who seem to write blogs with such passion and eloquence that I don't even bother trying to compete.

Today though, I shall write. I woke up to a cool blast of air around 6:30 this morning. I always sleep with my window open but the sudden chill in my room forced me awake to shut the window. I quickly snuggled back into my blankets and drifted asleep till my alarm woke me. It wasn't till later, as I was driving to school with my window down, that it dawned on me. That was the gentle kiss of Autumn. The cool lips of Fall had fallen on my sleeping cheek and I was too involved with my blankets and sleep to notice. I apologize.

Fall may still officially be weeks away but there always seems to be a moment when the seasons clash for a brief second, signaling the beginning change from one to the next. I love Autumn. For all the same reasons most people do but because they reflect something different about the world. To most it's about the beautiful leave colors and the cool nights. I love that too. Not simply for the beauty but what the beauty represents. DEATH. Simple, sweet, dreary, magnificent Death. Maybe that makes me morbid, in fact I'm sure it does. Frankly though, I don't really care. Autumn is a testament to the fact that dying can be beautiful. It is beautiful. Perhaps even more than birth. Don't get me wrong, spring is pretty, but it's so.......predictable. Life is bright, beautiful, and full of hope for the future. Possibilities are endless. Death on the other hand is dark, beautiful, and nostalgic.

It is the last few pages of a good book. The plot and conflict have been resolved, the characters are to go on their way. The dwindling pages cause a mixture of feelings, relief, gratitude, misery, reluctance, and reflection. You don't want the story to end but at the same time, it seems appropriate, there is nothing left to do. It is the last dying embers of a brillant fire, the flickering of a dying candel, the lengthening shadows, and the sunset. Death is beautiful.

The most disappointing thing about Death though, is that it's only the end for one individual, one living thing. The rest of the world moves on. No matter how painful, attached, or loved the thing. Time plots on and that is the tragedy. The pain, the memory, the scars, they all fade as life moves along. Each birth, in reality is a tragedy because it masks the beautiful agony of death. Thank God for Autumn. It shows us every year the amazing capacity of one life and for a brief few months we recognize it. Only to forget......with spring. The rise and fall of seasons........like generations is just a brief moment in the pool of eternity and in the end......Does it ever really mean anything once the memory fades?

My Library

2009-03-26T00:47:00.004-06:00

Sometimes I lose myself in the smell. It's a warm rich scent that curls and hangs lazily on the nostrils while filling the lungs. It's made of hot fresh ground coffee, cigar smoke, the moldly smell of binding glue on a worn book, and a dash of strong old spice cologne. Nostalgia at its finest. This smell is one I've never experienced in the world but it tangles the crevices of my mind like a warm syrup, sticky and thick. This smell is the metaphor of intellectual adventerousness. It explores the limits of the mind, existence, the metaphysical, and the not so metaphysical. It is where nations rise, where heroes are born, and where martyrs die. It is unbiased and uncaring in it's existence which only allows for greater triumphs or disapointments.

Often times in the late night hours I can see myself in a musty old velvet chair, surrounded by a bookcases stacked full of wonderous literature. There is a comfortable fire in a cozy little fireplace going. A soft rug at the foot of the chair and a small table to the side with worn rings where numerous glasses of warm brandy and wine have rested. I see an aged verision of myself, wrinkled and tired from the passing of time. Wisdom is etched into every sagging curve and grey hair. This is my happy place. The world and all its freedom are layed open before my fingertips. No world, no idea, no sorrow, no joy, and no experience escapes me. I will have my library. I will have my peace. I will.

For now though, perhaps not as zealous as I should; I embark in the struggle. There is beauty in struggle. Something completely fascinating and satisfying of dealing with a difficult task and enduring it. All to often I lose sight of this within the moment of tension. When things feel too hard, too difficult, too frustrating, I often falter. Never long enough to fail completely, but enough to make it more difficult than it ever needed to be. I spent many hours in a cold living room in Iowa circling, pacing, avoiding, and even hiding from the struggle. To the point where it found and crushed me. Perhaps......perhaps if I, like I so often have done, threw myself head first, carelessly, indifferent to the pain, into the struggle.....the work; I could have succeeded. Rather, I failed, maybe not completely, or to anyone else, but to myself it will always be.

I now try to embrace that struggle, so at the end of the day, I can wipe away the sweat, the blood, the tears, and the memories; and look at what I have done with my own two hands with satisfaction. This is my joy. That despite the suffering, despite the hardships, that I like God, can create and destroy. It may not be worlds or universes, but with a pen or a hammer and armed with an idea, I too am God. I too, become a force to be reckoned with.

If this makes me an intellectual snob, an elitest, or an idealist than so be it. If I am the jackass on the rowboat of life that must rock back and forth to draw a smile across my cracked lips.....well than so be it. I will be that jackass. Don't pity me though, condemn me, damn me, praise me, love me, hate me, fear me, torment me, ignore me, but please don't pity. For I am who I am. No more, no less, and all that other stuff that you say is shit. I find my joy, I fight my sorrows, and I put my pants on one leg at a time like everyone else. God knows the intentions of my heart (for I do believe in a Creator and that he is my literal Father in Heaven) and I will only answer to him.

So for now, today, tomorrow, next month, and 10 years from now; I will pull myself by my bootstraps. I will walk out into the world and say to hell with it. I will flip off the sun and curse the night. I will pursue knowledge and chase the unknowable. I will be burned by the light of reason and be healed by the aloe of faith. I will trip on the clumsy nature of man and soar with the dreams of Icarus. I will argue with fate and fight anarchy. I will be damned and I will be saved. Most of all I will be Jason and I will live for my quiet library.

As I put out my cigar and throw away the ashes. As I gulp the last of my luke warm brandy and dose the dying embers of the fire. As I close the cover on this book and reverently shut the door to my green pastures....I urge you to find your own. bid you goodluck, and bid you adieu with a friendly wave.

Jason Clark

Is God Dead?

2009-03-12T14:18:00.009-06:00

The madman jumped into their midst and pierced them with his eyes. "Whither is God?" he cried; "I will tell you. We have killed him--you and I. All of us are his murderers. But how did we do this? How could we drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What were we doing when we unchained this earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving? Away from all suns? Are we not plunging continually? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there still any up or down? Are we not straying as htrough an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is not night continually closing in on us? Do we not need to light lanterns in the morning? Do we hear nothing as yet of the noise of the grave diggers who are burying God? Do we smell nothing as yet of the divine decomposition? Gods, too, decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.
"How shall we comfort ourselves, the murders of all murderers? What was th eholiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born after us--for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto."
Here the madman fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern on the ground, an dit broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early," he said then; "my time is not yet. This tremendous event is still on its way, still wandering; it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time; the light of the stars requires time; deeds, though done, still require time to be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the most distant stars--and yet they have done it themselves."
It has been related further that on the same day the madman forced his way into several churches and there struck up his requiem aeternam deo. Led out and called to account, he is said always to have replied nothing but: "What after all are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God?" (Nietzsche, The Gay Science, pg 181-182)

Is God dead as the madman would cry? Have we murdered him with our neglegence and insolence? Perhaps there is some truth to his words. We as a society have become to caught up in the logic and rhetoric of existence. Once where magic and faith blossomed mankinds existence, science has grounded and broken it's wings. This was never more immanent then in the stories of Christ and the Pharisees. The Pharisees would question what faith had manifested to them based on the rules of the Mosiac law. Choosing not to see Christ as it's fulfilment but rather a radical who broke the rules. What else could the Roman's use to justify the crucifixition if not for his social presence. The "uprising" against the order that had been established. We all know how the story ends, whether or not you believe it, is not really the question. The result could speak loads as a metaphorical answer to the madman's decleration. Christ rose 3 days a later and left. No longer manifesting miracles for all to see was God's will, still, if one looked with faith, little evidences of his existence could be found scattered across the dark ages.
Perhaps now the metaphor has been completed. Rather than having killed God, we have shut our eyes and our hearts to what is plainly laid to see. Faith is such a simple act and science has killed it. As Kierkegaard declares: Faith begins where thought ends.

Let the record spin

2009-03-05T11:18:00.004-07:00

Do you think you could understand? Do you have that one song, that song that no matter how many times you run the lyrics through your mind, or hum quietly to yourself while trudging to your car, the one that you scream the lyrics to in the dark parking lot over looking the lake, how even when your heart is breaking from pain mends it back together, or when your heart is bursting with joy only adds to it. I found that song. It is in the soundtrack of my life. I'm just that lucky.

Icarus

2009-02-23T23:37:00.004-07:00

I've always wanted to get a tattoo. It's a guilty obsession of mine but I know it wouldn't look very good, being mormon and all. I've always dreamed of getting one that covers my whole back. It would have the brilliant illustration of the first moments of Icarus' flight. The wings spread open towards the vast blue sky. The sinewy muscles of the sun bleached body from a life of hard labor. The ruffled feathers of wings as they stretch themselves for the first time testing the breeze. The radiating sun showing a silhoutte....... Icarus.... What a story, what a boy, what an ending.

I don't think I could ever adaquetly explain my fascination and love for Icarus. I don't think any story or myth has ever captured my attention and my heart with such intensity. A boy who's only folly was dreaming too hard. Truely, I feel like I have the heart of a boy with his head in the clouds. I wear my heart on my sleeve for all to see, if you're willing to look past the Cynicism and Caution.

My dreams are big, my heart is full, my love is loyal. I'm the modern day Icarus.... If fate takes steady aim and shoots me down.....Well at least I'll die on impact from these great heights.

Dream on

2008-11-28T02:03:00.003-07:00

I scan the room and fall lazily back into that big black leather chair. It's that one that is big enough to fit two but is just perfect for cuddling deeply into by yourself. I'm not going to lie, I was happy at that moment, this moment.. My family surrounds me and even though i know that its not perfect, i am happy to be here with them. It doesn't come as often now that we are all together, even today we were missing some but i felt love....genuine, non discriminating love. I feel like they bring out the good in me. I wish i deserved that kind of love and respect but i don't. Lately im messing up, im just lucky i have support. That is w hat im grateful for. My net of support in my life. Family, Friends, even God. I am blessed, truely blessed.

The shoreline of my mind is never quite as beautiful when you aren't running around on the white sand. The moonlight reflecting off the cool water. The sound of gulls and singing waves serenading my heavy thoughts. Even my mind was better with you around. Moist warm air and swirling scents are enough to lull anyone into a quiet peace of mind. The summer in Utah could never compete with this weather. A lifetime of memories with another could never compete with the flutter of emotion that comes when you stand close. So this is what it's come down to. Lying in the dark with my mind running wild. With you far away in emotions and miles. Im not going to beat around the bush, it hurts so fkin much. At least a lie is almost as good as the real thing.

So i dream on.

I love you

2008-11-09T23:29:00.002-07:00

I'd cry if i thought it make you get here any quicker. I'd scream if i thought it'd make you leave sooner. I'd love you if i thought we could make it........I.L.O.V.E.Y.O.U.

The grass is wet beneath our bare feet.
We find ourselves swaying in a dance.
Like stalks of grain in a summer wind.
The green grass is wet.

The night envelopes us in its embrace.
Our hands are clasped tightly as,
We try to find our way out of the dark
The night is black and cold.

The blankets bind us tightly together.
Tangled in a sweaty masquerade.
The sweet kiss can't hide regret
Lost in pain's grey wake.

Your lungs gasp for want of air
Your tears flow from hidden eyes
We never got to speak the truth
Red wounds stain hands

The requiem echo's its remorse
My soul will wait for yours
To create what fate wouldn't
The grave is brown.

Just your dream

2008-11-08T23:42:00.004-07:00

Sometimes when i let my mind wander more than i should, i contemplate my own existence. Often times i reassure myself that i exist, there are times though that i take the darker road. I am afriad of alot of things, heights, the dark, failure, etc; there is something that also worries me, that i don't exist. Now i don't mean i don't exist exist, obviously i exist now, i worry that i am not permanent though. That my life will hold significance or weight in the world. I worry that i am only apart of another's imagination or dream and that if they wake up i will cease being. Sometimes i even convince myself that death is somehow related to this. A person dies but maybe its only that God or some being like a God stops contemplating that person.....that eventually as it slips out of memory so does the person.

It's a silly fear isn't it.... but yet it worries me when i let the idea run freely. I want to matter at least to something or someone. My lips, my heart, my mind, they scream "i exist! I am here! Don't let me slip away!" I want to etch my name in the limestone of eternity with my fingernails.

To be afraid of the dark is to be human, i can live with human....to be nothing scares me beyond words.

The sun

2008-11-08T01:15:00.004-07:00

Picture if you will a small town in some ancient majestic mountains. This town lays in a valley that is surrounded like a bowl by high arching cliff walls. The only thing you can see beyond these high walls are mounds and mounds of snow, ice, and beyond that the glistening points of the mountain peaks beyond. The town grows its own food and provides for itself with no outside interference, the only season is a mild winter and harsh winter. Years and generations pass but they never experience summer. Finally, one year they wake up to a warm day.. they wander out into the sun and stand their basking in it, letting the sun soak into their skins. The sun sets and they go back to bed. They wake the next day to see the valley floor flooded with melted snow. Only a few inches of water, nothing to worry about. The sun breaks free of the clouds and once again they are hypotized by it. The next the same thing. Each day following the water rises but the sun gets warmer. Days pass, weeks, finally the valley is almost flooded to the brim. The only ones left alive are treading water, many have drown but none recognize their peril. One by one they cramp up and sink to the bottom of a water grave. The last survivor witnesses the warmest day, the heat is comfortable, the air is warm and humid. His legs pump vigrously but with each churn he losses strengths. The sun begins to set and his legs give out. As he sinks he fails to panic for air but rather focuses on the sun through the surface of the water.... the last one visits the many before him.

I feel like one of the last survivors. my legs pumping furiously, the warm sun soaking me through and my senses clouded to the peril that has crept upon me. Death is near but the beauty that surrounds me is too much to care....I embrace my watery grave if only to see the sun one last time.

Self-Worth

2008-11-02T01:07:00.001-06:00

Its about how much you are progressing, not how well you are at coasting.... but im stuck on the sidelines

I AM AMERICAN AND YOU CAN ALSO!

2008-10-30T01:01:00.003-06:00

I had the chance to watch Obama's informercial tonight on youtbe after work. Many may know that I will be voting for Obama on Nov 4th (hate me if you must but i dig the dudes style). This isn't an endoresment for Obama though, rather, it stirred something in me that I haven't felt since 9.11.

I love America. I truely do. It isn't perfect but perhaps that is what i love most about it. It is flawed but only because people are flawed. That is why i love America, it is a land of the people. Often times i fear that we take that for granted and only in big moments throughout history people take notice of that loyalty. Some though, those who are better than i, recognize it on a daily basis. Those who serve our country and the selfless act that they commit in my behalf and those of my family. To them i want to say thank you. Your bravery and sacrifice (along with those of your families) cannot be equaled in gratitude with words. I only hope that i can recognize daily the liberties that you give to me.

I wonder if Karl Marx or even farther back to Alexander, Attila, or even Plato and his republic; could ever have forseen a nation like that of ours. I am sure that more brilliant minds then myself could tell you the flaws in our government system or why another form would be better. I disagree though, I love this nation for what it is. A melting pot of many lands, ideas, religions, and histories. However, like Kierkegaard said.... Passion unites mankind. We are united by passion. No other country in the world could claim such magnificent thing and because of it we are truely blessed. Blessed to pursue those passions!

As i watched Obama's infomercial and heard the stories of families across this nation my heart was broken. Broken that so many wonderful people in this nation are suffering. Suffering in the land of freedom and liberty. ironic, and tragic. I hope that this crisis defines our generation. I hope that my grandchildren can look back to my era and say THAT is where things turned around and how lucky we are that they did. I want to be apart of the solution. The relief of that suffering that is pillaging my fellow brethern. I hope that we all can do our part and maybe change the world in doing so.

May God bless the sunkissed shores of west coast, the snowcapped mountains of the rockies, the golden prairies of the midwest, the vast emerald forests of the northeast, and the brilliant RED WHITE AND BLUE of our great capital. I am american and the history that such a title carries is as good as nobility. may the lord watch and protect our great land, its leaders, and those who are fighting for it!

Jaws of Love

2008-10-25T01:12:00.005-06:00

It's late, it's dark again. I should be in bed because im supposed to play basketball tomorrow at 8 am but instead im lying awake in bed with the lyrics of one of my favorite songs blaring in my headphones. I suppose it is their fault i feel inclined to write, though i don't have any real direction for this to go.

Swallow, Swallow, Swallow, that lump won't go away. One last attempt but its good and stuck. I feel watered down but no matter how hard i try to wet my cracked lips ,my tongue's dry exterior can't accomplish its small task. I guess all the fluid in my body is devoted to this tear. One solitary tear hangs from the corner of my eye like the mark of a killer. Perhaps it's just as symbolic. Perhaps the meaning is more. The rage, the regret, the anger, the mistake. It doesn't matter though. It never does. And so while i watch her mouth move, the apologies, the accusations, the confusion.....my mind wanders, and i don't give a shit anymore. My fingernail seems to be jagged so i pick at it in frustration. The awkward enviroment is a breeding ground for such useless tasks. The nail won't budge, so a quick bite and its gone. My hair feels tangled so i run my fingers through it. Her eyes are red from crying but my feet need fidgeting. Almost comfortable. Swallow, the lump is gone and the butterflies are swelling in my stomach. A whirlwind of tiny wingbeats, delicate, soft, beautiful. Oh God, this thought makes my stomach churn as i remember her voice and for a moment i think back. We are curled up on large blanket of grass, her head on my chest, my hair in my eyes, the sun is setting, our hands are clasped in a sweaty embrace. She looked up at me and blew the hair out of my face, her breath smelling a citrusy fragrence which tangled with her fruity shampoo. Our eyes met....and she whispered she loved me. That too, like small wingbeats of delicate, soft, beautiful butterflies struck me with such magnitude that i was sure nothing could be more perfect then her thin lips and bright blue eyes. I don't know what to do with my hands now that the nail is taken care of so i continue to gnaw on them. Working each nail down to a disgustingly short point. I wish she would just leave. The tear has long since fell and dried on my hoody. My face hiding the turrent of emotion screaming instead of me. Minutes pass, slowly she comes to realize the futility of it all. She rises in acceptance and turns toward the door. My hand wants to jump and grab hers, pulling her into a tight embrace, ended with a gentle kiss. My pride holds it tightly to my knee though. The door closes gently. The gasp breaches my vocal cords in the form of a moan. My face burries itself in my arms. My heart swells well the harsh reality, and shrinks with despair, shattering it like a cold window on a hot day. I choke, no longer a lump but a fireball of pain. I convulse slightly and then gain control. I turn to the mirror....acceptance......it's lines age my face. Time no longer holds the reigns to fate, Love holds each life in its jaws.

Don't thrash, it's teeth gash........

Soul

2008-10-23T01:50:00.005-06:00

The light is out and i am engulfed in darkness. Only the warm glow of my laptop, the comfort of my bed, and old school Dashboard Confessional (they sold out, i don't care what anyone says) are around. It's hard to keep awake but i feel a desire to write for a moment before slumber.

I am a Buddhism class this semester in an effort to try and expand my knowledge of Eastern Philosophy, though i am partial to the continental train of thought. We have been going on for some class periods now about the non-existence of soul or even holding onto a concept of self. It attaches us to something. For Buddhists according to my readings and classes this is a violation of what one should try and accomplish. For them, there is no soul or permanence in this world. Every second is ending and beginning over and over. It's all about living in the moment. Romantic isn't it?

Well, this doesn't sit well with me. As the title of my blog suggest i am somewhat of a Cartegean. I believe that the only sure thing an individual has is that they exist. Maybe not physically but at least mentally. You are a contemplating, thinking, individual. You have memories, thoughts, hopes, dreams; one could easily say a sense of self, an identity. Why one would ever want to destroy such a marvelous and wonderful thing is beyond me. In fact, i don't know how one could ever deny it. They argue that you can regress into nothingness if you try to identify what you are. You could regress all the way down to being a billion atoms and electrons. You could probably take it even farther and think yourself into who knows what. You can never think yourself out of existence though. To even assume such a thing shows you are a thinking thing.

The soul, to me, gives one a stability and hope that is necessary for not only a happy existence but any degree of improving/learning. Aren't the happiest individuals the ones that "discover" who they are? They come to some sort of realization that only applies to them, enabling them to find independence amidst a galaxy of other objects. To be someone is the greatest potential a thing could ever have, discovering it is the luckiest thing one could gain, fulfilling it is the happiest event that repeats over and over one could ever hope to achieve. Learning from mistakes, expanding one's faculties, and improving ones self is the only possible good situation that can arise from a vast variety of negative outcomes. What a blessing to be who you are. You may not recognize it as a blessing but take a moment and think to yourself. You can only be sure that you exist....that means you are the best, the greatest, the only you. Everything and everyone else is just brushstrokes on the canvas of you. Don't let anyone take that from you, and by anyone i mean you.

I am Jason, No better, No worse. Everything else is shit.

Late Night Thoughts

2008-09-17T01:14:00.000-06:00

I created this despite my many other methods of blogging because it seems to be the new "in" thing to do. Yes, i am a slave to trends as much as the next person. Although i can't honestly say how much i will use this. I have an open diary that has lasted me years and years. Oh well, I'm in it for the adventure.

I don't really have anything specific to write on except for a discussion that happened in my 19th European Philosophy Class. We are reading some lectures done by Fichte and in it he begins to argue about a man's vocation and the roll it plays in society. whether it should follow from his talents or what is deemed needed by society. In part, after picking an argument with a fellow classmate it begin to make me contemplate my own ideas on the subject. Is it really necessary for an individual to play a roll with his vocation in society or should he follow his natural born talent, or yet even again should he go with what he desires to do with his life.

For many, i believe the obvious answer would be that one should choose what he wants to do with his life, rather than have it decided for him. I would agree except for this method can lead too many astray and often leaves people miserable for failing so horribly. (ex: one could find joy in laundering money or American idol contestants who cannot sing worth shit but are convinced they can till they are utterly shut down on national television.) On the reverse side, to deny such desire could cripple the development of talents that could have yet to been revealed by nature. Imagine if Michael Jordan hadn't been allowed to hold a basketball..... what majesty and great entertainment would have been lost.

The problem with following one's talent is that it leads to unnecessary callings that don't seem to aide society in anyway, or worse yet that other talents are crippled by focusing on one. (ex: one could have a great talent for rape. extreme but very plausible). One could even harm society by such vocations. This however, would drag the concept of Good and Bad into the mix and would only cloud situation even more im afraid.

Lastly, society could see an individual for one thing when he has talents for another, thus withholding from itself something great and replacing it with something practical. A doctor when they could be a great singer, a philosopher when they could be a great blacksmith, etc etc. One could almost see Michaelangelo being forced to be a stable boy, or Sir Issac Newton being a squire because they were more practical than art or gravity (ha).

This whole situation only leaves me more confused on my opinion of what needs to be done. It brings into it too many factors. Who determines what is necessary? Who judges on behalf of good? What are the objectives of the society? How large is it? Does it vary on sex and age? With many other questions. Thus, im afraid that it boils down to this. One should first choose what will be satisfactory for themselves and what they believe will aide another. Everything else will fall into place or it will fail miserably and nature will neccesarily cause it to start again. There is one thing i believe to be certain.... there will always be progression.