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 readingThe Junkie Stories: The Night I Scratched the Surface
I suppose what happens is we grow tired of waiting for change. Perhaps this is why we remain the same. Maybe this is where the internal conflict begins. Maybe? Who knows?
Maybe I just wanted to feel something. Maybe I wanted to find something that could speak for me without even saying a word. Or, maybe none of this was so deep or difficult. Maybe I just wanted to feel something good and that’s all there was to it. Perhaps there was nowhere else to go at the time. Aside from where we’ve been, there was no place else to go. For example, maybe this is why our view is limited. Maybe we only know what we see and therefore, all we know is what we’ve experienced. Or, maybe I was blind or missing something. Or again, maybe none of this was so deep or systematic.
Continue readingHope: A Catalyst for Change, Not Shame
I was listening to a Mother talk about her child. She was talking about the people who were involved with his program and how they let her son down. We talked for a while. We spoke about the needs of kids that face trouble or live through challenges. We talked about arrests and the bad behavior. Or, more accurately, we talked about the symptoms over the problems and the reasons behind the behavior.
I have been to town hall meetings where parents argued with teachers. I listened to the blaming that went back and forth and yet, I never heard anyone say, “Hey wait, what am I missing here?” or, “What can I do to help make things different?” There was only one time that I can think of where a Mom stood up and asked what she could do to improve things in her own home. Aside from this, I never heard anyone else mention their own role nor was anyone interested in talking about what they could do at home. Instead, I saw angry parents pointing fingers. I listened to teachers and administrators defend their positions. I heard law enforcement defend their positions while parents spoke, accusing them of not doing their job. I witnessed parents speak from the crowd as if they were to grandstand before an audience and impress everyone with their brilliant responses. By the way, none of this was productive.
Continue readingA Definition of Self
There is so much more beneath the surface. And sometimes, we barely scratch it. There is more to us all than meets the eye. There is more to us, such as the unspoken or the uncovered, the undiagnosed, or the unaddressed parts of our life, which we’d prefer to keep hidden Ah, but the mind is such an incredible place.
We remember far more than we think. This is the storage unit where pasts behind the eyes of each and every one of us.
There is more to us all. There is more to our fears and there is more to the ideas of our loneliness than simply being alone. In fact, lonesomeness is not always synonymous with the lack of company. As a matter of fact some of the loneliest places I have ever been are places where I was absorbed by a crowd.
But no one talks about things like this. No one really speaks openly or honestly. No one dares to be truthful about themselves because why? Is it too raw? Is it too real?
The Product Is Not Finished (Yet)
We are all a product in progress. I know this. I know what this means to me but then again, I come from a different time. I come from time before technology took over the world. This is a time before the internet. I come from way back when people used their home phones. I remember when answering machines came around and when rotary phones became a thing of the past. I remember music and music stores with albums and record players.
There were no cell phones or phones with cameras or video. In fact, I come from a time when there weren’t cameras everywhere you turn.
I can say that my youth was fortunately before the blitz of what technology has become, which is almost everything. I came from a time before the cell phone craze. There was no texting or Facebook messaging. There was no such thing as social media. There was only talking and personal interaction and, therefore; there were fewer moments of misread intentions.
A Copy of Today’s Endurance
Just to live. Just to breathe. Just to go outside and feel the sun on my face. Just to feel the wind in my hair. Just to be somewhere. You know?
Just to step away for a minute; to detach and disconnect. To put the world on hold and regroup; to find my balance and restore myself so that I can come back and get back in the game.
What an idea. To be away. To find a place where I can rest or put my arms down. And ah, the beach. The warm sand. The sound of the waves and the calls from the seagulls.
This is one of my spots by the way. This is one of my go to places. Then again, there’s the rooftop. This is another place of mine. Both of which are places that I’ve been connected with since my childhood.
Wednesday Morning’s Charge: Sound the Horn, Kid!
Do you know when it hits?
It hits the moment you cross the finish line. The feeling hits you when everything comes to fruition. No matter if it’s first place or last, you did more than anyone ever said you could. You defied the odds. You stood tall when everyone else predicted you’d fall. That’s something.
The Written Addiction 