where to begin?

Hmm.. only eight years ago...
(ok.. seven and a half...)

- written during one of my "What the hell am I going to do?" times...

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Sat, 24 Aug 2002 - 6:26 pm

Here it is.

I feel like I've fallen into a classic existential crisis. Life seems to have no point or higher purpose. After years of working, I have exhausted my enthusiasm. I'm like an actor who's lost the motivation for his part, a ghost among many.

I feel no passion for anything or anyplace on earth.
Inspiration, I fear, is a thing of the past.

I struggle daily to hold tight my slight grasp on a thin line of hope.
A trait bred into me from my inception I'm sure.
I have no idea whatsoever of how I'll survive this, I can only convey my heart's absolute trust that, somehow, I will.

"Help", from anyone, is irrelevant and impossible, for this is as much an individual conflict as there possibly can be.

There are many people whom I love completely and wish great things for. But right now, I feel powerless to advance "the cause".

Self-medication isn't working as well as it has in the past. Hell, I can't even get motivated by sedation.

Just now, as I was writing this, a lightning storm knocked out power to the entire neighborhood. I sat on my symbolic throne of a porch and watched out over my concrete kingdom as elegant streaks of the purest light I've ever seen blaze across the sky, hundreds of miles in fractions of a second. Arcs, bolts, circles and shapes of white fire followed shortly by the most resonant rumblings of thunder, deep and soul shaking to the core. My neighbor notices me and calls me a "brave soul". Could that be true? Is bravery inherent within me?

It's been said that you cannot possess courage unless you are frightened. I feel no fear save for that of a listless complacent existence devoid of wonder, holding no inspiration, emptiness that spills over and floods my mind. Life, at this point, has soured my alternate plan of living a vicarious life through my children.

I'm a few weeks away from thrusting one of my silly childhood dreams upon my eldest son. Assigning him responsibility which he did not ask for. Foregoing the usual training involved with mastering a motorcycle and asking him to care for this one object I've held onto for the past 25 years. In essence, asking him to carry that weight.

Options for overcoming obstacles in my immediate path are hidden to me. I think they exist, but if so, they seem as far away as outer space.

What miracle comes now? Which "thing" is the "right" thing?
How do I explain "me" to my family?
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Then.. in 2004, I wrote this...

Don't know why, ain't no sun up in the sky...

I'm hypnotized by this sky tonight. No other sky like it anywhere, none. Cancun was close. Hawai'i's skies were broken into small pieces and reassembled ever so gracfully over the ocean. An Arkansas night is almost too bright with stars. Downward glances fill the skies in New York and Philadelphia, down past Delaware, Jersey, Baltimore and D.C.. This ain't Hawai'i. This is Kansas.

This sky growls. It screams and cries and says goodbye.

"Why am I here, again?" Because I'm drawn here as surely as a magnet to the north right now. Maybe a last fling with home and all it holds captive in what's left of my heart. Don't know why. Stormy weather. Storms build inside then explode, ever so gracefully, into the sky tonight.

Destiny awaits. Molded by my desires, just the way I like it.
Too bad I kill it so easily...
Rushing in and swimming against the tide of time, I rummage through my little treasures and am reminded of the beautiful ugliness of it all - the past, the future, the transfer of one to the other and the speed at which it crawls by.

Searching for gasps of air over shudders of emotion ringing in my heart, I long to understand things which can never be explained. My mind accelerates once more. I can't stop the years. I can't stand my fears. I'm overwhelmed by the mundane and bored with the chaos.

Have you been there? It ain't no picnic sparky, let me tell 'ya.
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(.. just found this that I wrote in 2006)

10/13/2006 (these digits add up to 13.. go figure)

Waialua wandering, wake to surf sounds, break these walls down.
My nemesis is staring at me in the bathroom mirror.. he laughs at my tears, then tosses in a few more years. What are the odds that I would land here in such a perfect place, only to be longing for a far away face. Pretty good odds I would guess. That's how I "roll".. never content, hell bent for something else.

Should I swim? Should I float? Should I try to find a boat?

Decisions are best left to others as I would rather watch my fate from a distance.

I miss my father.

Three in college now, my youngest at "that age".
Where is the passion? Where is the rage?

This world is not the one I wished for. I wanted my offspring to be free to explore. The rest of the world cares not for us 'mericanos, on the contrary, they want us gone.. thanks to the fumblings of just one man. That beast. He stole my children's future away from them.

Hope is such a cruel idea. Dreams are just a fleeting image on a screen. Sometimes I just want to scream. "Give it all back!"
Truth will always win this game of hide and seek. Hidden for as long as they want it to be. For as long as we let it, which is usually forever.

To my kids: Please prove me wrong. Please show me that it will all be ok, in the end. For my end is near. To the women I love: Love me or hate me, but please learn from me. My heart is not like any other.

I can't remember where it was that I wanted to go so long ago.
Is this it?

I've got a gut feeling that I belong in other lands, in other hands, listening to other bands. Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes. Focus is something you do with a lens. My lens is too big.., or not big enough. Sleep with stars above, wish happiness for the ones I love.

I miss my father.

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(Back to 2010)) - I made it through all of that, and so many other times of doubt and struggle.. I suppose things will be alright.