There is a story I once heard about a man that lost half of his leg in the war. After waking up from surgery, the man thanked the nurse for saving his leg. He said this because he swore it was still there. Unfortunately, the nurse was left with the chore to inform the soldier that he lost his leg from the knee down. However, the soldier was sure this was wrong. He even argued with the nurse.
“But I can still feel it,” he said
“It still hurts.”
Could you imagine that?
Could you imagine feeling something that’s no longer there, attached, or even exists?
Yearly Archives: 2021
Begin Cognition
This is my house, small, humble and with a backyard meant for dreaming. There are three bedrooms and one bathroom. There is an upstairs and a downstairs basement. My bedroom was the one upstairs and to the left. There were two windows in my room. One window faced the front of my house, which was on a main street. This is the window I could look through to see the world drive by.
The other window faced the side of my house. I used to dream through this window. And sometimes, I would climb out from my window and stand on the slanting roof on the backside of my house. No one could see me here. Below this part of my roof was the garage, which, for some reason, my family never kept a car in the garage. We had a collection of things in there. Just stuff. We had things like a lawnmower, a few rakes, a shovel or two and whatever collected things that never made it into the home.
Continue readingTime
There isn’t much time left. No, wait, maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe time is only an illusion. Maybe time is a personal limitation, like say, when we skip over an idea because the timeline is too long or too intimidating. Maybe this is why people stall on the idea of returning back to school when they’re older. Maybe this is why people balk at new endeavors because the investment of time seems too overwhelming.
Continue readingPutting the Virus Behind Us
It’s nice to see the masks come down. It’s nice to walk by and see someone smile or just see another face without a surgical mask over the nose and mouth. It’s nice to hear that we might be ahead of this, which means the pandemic might be behind us now. And this is it, the year 2021. Who knows what might come next. Who knows if this whole test is just another moment in purgatory. Or better yet, maybe this is just a social experiment to see how we’d treat each other or how we’d get along if something went wrong. Well, if this were true, I suppose the next questions is , “Okay, so how’d we do?
Continue readingWritten for the Other Side of Father’s Day
I suppose there are things you never had the chance to say. Then again, I suppose there are things I never had the chance to tell you. I’m not sure why this happens. I’m not sure how. I only know that life goes this way sometimes. This is unfortunate but true. Not everyone gets along and not everyone likes each other, simply because they are supposed to. Not everyone fits into the typical family mold. And what I mean is regardless of our roles in one another’s life, not everyone gets along, even if we want to.
To be fair, I write this from both a personal perspective as well as an onlookers. I write this as someone who has seen this struggle from an outsider’s point of view and as someone that has lived through this with personal experience. I also write this without judgment or prejudice.
Continue readingHere’s a Little Thing About Doubt
I came across a quote the other day. Maybe I’ve seen this quote someplace before. Or maybe I haven’t. Maybe I just never read it quite the same way or maybe my eyes are open differently.
The quote said, “Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will.”
I agree.
A Little From the Abstract: A Dream of Mine
And here it comes. The summertime. Here comes the memories of being a child, riding around on the streets of the old neighborhood with a bicycle and a few friends. I have this dream sometimes. The dream itself must be an old memory. I suppose it has to be a memory because the place and the vision is real. I can see the streets of my town and the way they were to me then and this was it. This is where I grew up.
Continue readingTime to Get Busy
To believe that success comes without stress or pain is inaccurate. In fact, there are times when success comes with more pain than loss itself. It would be inaccurate to believe that success comes naturally or that success is easy. No. None of this is true.
I go back to my first published piece of work. I think about the punishing reviews that followed. I think about the people that told me I never had a chance. I go back to the older pieces of my writing, which are unreadable to me now. I am miles away from that time. I am years away and I can say that good or bad; hell, at least I’ve improved. At least I continued. I kept going. I kept writing. I kept learning and I kept trying.
I think about my first chance of speaking at a school. This was on my own steam. This was not connected to an organization or with anyone else. No, this was all me.
A Page Out of Notes From the Heart: This One’s For You
I know there are times when you wondered if I was writing just for you. Well, I want you to know that this one is specifically for you. I am writing this to you because I think you understand. In fact, I know you do.
And so do I.
There comes a point where all the money in the world cannot cover the debt of living an unhappy life. The distractions run out and the relationships either turn or fall short. And there you are. You find yourself empty with no possible way to fill the void. Nothing is satisfying and it seems as if nothing can be solved.
There comes a time when the pit becomes bottomless and no matter what you do, no matter what you try, and no matter where you go, there you are. And there’s no escape.
Too Many Opinions. Too Much Virtue Signaling
I understand that this is a little bit of a rant. I know where this stems from and quite honestly, I’ll understand if you let this note go unread. But either way, I come here for a reason. I’ve made my commitment to do this every morning, so, ready or not . . . here it comes.
Continue reading
The Written Addiction 