Airport Parkinglots

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

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

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

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

Little did I know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So tired

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

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

Choose your own adventure

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

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

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

What a hypocritical code......

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

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

You are the star.

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

Blue BIC pen

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

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

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

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

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

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

The philosopher.

Nietzsche at 2 am has captured my soul:

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

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

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

I can help you, I'm in retail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Relief

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


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