Hey, it's me...Brian.
All Around Good Guy
I enjoy Writing, Making Films and Playing Games.
This is where I write just to write whatever may be on my mind.
Always proud to be a
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Me, You and My Medication
With much hubbub done and over with about the holidays, I finally find myself buying a ticket to visit home for a few days. Funny how I couldn't manage to do so BEFORE the Christmas season. I wonder what that says about me. Though I'm looking forward to seeing friends again, I wonder how good a friend they will be, and in what context. Whatever. Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to seeing people I love, but I I ask myself, how will I love them?
So much going on in my mind,
I find myself stymied blind
Led down darkness and alley ways
Underground, with nary a sound of reproach
Or coaching advice of what I should do.
All this confusion,
Along with mental contusions and
Balk me to no termination.
Frustration finds me
Takes me in root down to my
Mind, Body and Soul.
Break me down to my component parts
So that I may never find myself whole
And now I lay me down to sleep,
Weak with a certain finality
That while it's not "Curtains for me"
I'm certainly not going to find anything better.
I went to Chicago today for the day and I had a great time.
I don't know what else to say. I feel this is just a mediocre entry, but I don't know how to improve it. Like so many things.
Posted at 01:46 am by Psybabar
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Make Cape. Wear Cape. Fly
I suppose a Happy Holidays is in order for everyone out there who I didn't get to, or to be less politically correct, Merry Christmas. And yes it's still Christmas despite the late hour, because I have yet to go to sleep.
This year marked the first year that I "celebrated" Christmas without being around my family. To understate everything, it was very difficult for me. I have never NOT been around either set of my parents for the Holidays in some sense for 22 years. My 23rd passing of Christmas though, meant everything was different and thusly difficult.
It was sad, and I was saddened. A few days before Christmas, I was overcome with emotion and almost broke down in tears when talking to random friends about my situation. It was almost like I was admitting a fault and coming to terms with a dire mistake I had made, because in the end, it WAS my choice to stay here. It was my choice to not make the travel arrangements, or at least put them off until it was too late. And I guess I didn't really want to admit that it looked like I didn't care about my parents and family enough to see them on a holiday traditionally reserved for such an occasion. It was humbling and disheartening. I wondered what that said about me, in the fact that I wasn't concerned enough to think something like this through to the extent that I couldn't plan off work or do anything at all. I guess I just felt like things were out of my hands, and it's just an awful feeling to feel impotent.
So, suffice to say, I wasn't particularly excited about the coming days.
In the end, Christmas Day came. And it started like any other day for me. I slept in, woke up and got dressed in an empty apartment. I unwrapped a few gifts sent to me by my relatives and wrote some last minute Christmas cards. Many things started to look up though, when I was invited to have dinner at my roomate's father's house and THEN AGAIN at my friend's house. I was invited to two separate dinners, only hours apart.
Looking over the fact that I stuffed myself silly, not only with copious amounts of food, but also with social company and, not to sound too corny, kindness. I was welcomed into two separate homes and made to feel like I was part of another family. That was such a wonderful present. I'm grateful to have such wonderful friends who I know love me. I just thought that I would share that.
I'm glad I got through a worse time to a better day.
I hope I can share some of that with other people as well.
Now all I need is for a certain package to show up, and then I think Christmas will be complete.
Posted at 01:46 am by Psybabar
Saturday, December 16, 2006
One must avoid distractions, not build shrines to them
It's true. Only last night and this morning have I come to the realization that I've been distracted from the SINGLE reason that I moved out to Illinois in the first place. I want to act. I NEED to. Otherwise I might as well just define myself by one word. To be labeled a Server for the rest of my life is something I cannot fathom.
I got caught up. Caught up in ways to pass the time in my apartment until something happened. No more, active steps are direct and more beneficial.
For some reason, it took some good conversation last night to start me out of my rut. Well, that and some insanely inspirational writing from a comic book....(Christ, I'm a SUCH a nerd, I can't believe that I just admitted that.) It was more in part to that great conversation, though. It makes sense that since bad moods are contagious, good moods are as well. And I've been in a good mood since last night. Finally.
Well, steps have been taken. I'm starting out. I'm registering for acting classes. I talked to my second-cousin Todd who's going to help me out. I'm going to talk to my friend Sherman and Second City and see if he can give me any leads for auditions. I bought car insurance!!
In talking with Todd though, I was even more reassured, simply because his friend, who works directly in Chicago theate-land, took a year to get her feet planted. So...yeah.
I feel alright, and I'll be alright.
I was affirmed in the fact that I know I have a network of people who love me, and are more than willing to support me with any help. This is helping my homesick-ness a little bit.
I wish I knew what I was doing for Christmas and New Years....
Posted at 01:48 pm by Psybabar
Thursday, December 14, 2006
My written words need to be spoken.
The great poems have already been written
So I suppose you'll have to settle for this.
This (lack of) poetry is pretty disgusting
But right now, it's all I'm coming up with.
Does it bother you
That I speak from my heart and mind
Instead of having my inefficient words
Follow specific meter and rhyme?
I'll tell you a secret...
I really don't care.
These words aren't anything but air
And they bear no more substance than our breaths
Frozen in the cold, trailing upwards in the wind
Like so many frozen souls escaping.
The wisp of my breath has given simple secrets form
Now, tell me a secret of yours.
Talk to me in whispers that glide
Like ice water over my senses
Speak to me in torrents of sotto voce
That have nothing to do with anything
But still mean everything to me.
Speak to me in tones you consider to be mono-
But still run the gamut of my emotional spectrum.
Speak to me so that you can listen.
Listen as I take these words from the same breath that you gave to me
And weave them into a flowing tapestry of poetic injustice.
It just is.
And I can't change it
And you can't change it
So let's just try to rearrange it.
Like I said, the great poems have already been written
And this mess certainly isn't my best
But I need to get it out here
So I can put my mind to rest.
Posted at 10:21 pm by Psybabar
Sunday, December 10, 2006
I'm Addicted to those City Lights
While reading a book called "The Tao of Pooh", in which one is introduced to the complexities of the Tao philosophies using the aimiable, charming and above all simple Winnie the Pooh as allegory, I'm learning things that I believe describe a fair amount of my general philosophies towards life. Ths first thing that's explained is that Tao teaches is that there is a particular way in which one can appreciate, learn from and work with whatever happens in simple, everyday, mundane life. From this point of view of acceptance, a sort of harmony is acheived and results in a way of living that is happy.
Now, for the most part, I have always been a big believer in the concept that while you cannot control what happens to you through out the day, you CAN control how you react to it. Every so often, I have to reaffirm this to myself so I can try to be happy as my life presses onward. This isn't to say that I am not affected my emotions, it's even less correct to say that I can control my emotions to any sort of degree. I suppose this is part of the reason that I've been feeling down recently, but for the most part, I don't think anyone really notices.
I don't feel that I put on a mask of optimism to cover any negative feelings that I carry, but rather I just try to focus on certain positive aspects of my daily life (most of which comes from having social human interaction). It's more the the effect that I let my positive attitude come forth from my bad moods, akin to sunlight streaming out from storm clouds.
Or at least that's what I TRY to do, with mixed results.
This morning, I struggled, honestly struggled, to get out of bed. It's not like me to just lie under my covers, paralyzed with thought and introspection and ponderances. Wondering about the "What if's" and the "What COULD have happened" and things to that extent while staring at my ceiling...
Actually...that's EXACTLY like me, only I don't usually lie under my covers for so long.
And my ceiling has a few cracks in it....otherwise it's boring.
And it's funny how much I want to blame one single aspect for the majority of my thoughts, but I think it's much more complex than that.
Sometimes, I wish I weren't as honorable as I perceive myself to be, because then that would give me some sort of....justification to start some drama. But, then again, I'm not in a soap opera. But I wish I could play one on TV! Heh.
I think a Lucky Boys Confusion song has more meaning to me now than I thought it ever would.
And it's 15 days till Christmas, and I have absolutely NO idea what I'm doing, or getting for people. AND I don't know what I'm yet doing for New Year's.
And with that, I'm going to leave you with an excerpt from my current read:
"Wouldn't you say, Pooh?"
"Say what?" asked Pooh, opening his eyes.
"Music and Living----"
"The same thing," said Pooh
Posted at 02:31 pm by Psybabar
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Trying to NOT pick up where I left off
Something I don't find amusing is that a fear of speaking will lead to miscommunication problems soon afterwards. What I DO find amusing is, that no matter what, it seems that the truth will eventually reveal itself and people will communicate, well and truly. It's just how one deals with the situation after the fact.
And with that I have to laugh. Because I don't think there's anything else to do.
Here I am, a (repeatedly aforementioned) College Graduate, working at a resturant bemoaning the fact that I'm not doing anything. I complain that I don't have anyone to hang out with, but I don't make many plans with many people. I worry that I'm not doing well as an actor because I haven't found any agents or auditions, but I haven't been looking THAT hard. The only thing I've been doing is sitting on my ass waiting to hear back from talent agencies. Since my own predicament is a DIRECT result of my own inactions, why not rectify it?
And so this is why I laughed. I am where I am right now, because of what I directly did (or DIDN'T) do.
So it goes.
Tonight I placed a smooth stone on the area of my desk reserved for important and meaningful things. It sits between my lucky charm blessed by Buddhist Monks and my personalized liscence plate from St Thomas. The funny thing is, it seemed to fit right in place, perfectly, without having to move a single thing.
Posted at 01:57 am by Psybabar
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Lamentations of those who never sleep.
It's starting to happen again.
I can't sleep.
Or rather I CAN sleep. I can FALL asleep. The beginnings of sleep, perhaps. But, I'm then interrupted, awoken by something or another. I keep waking up. Multiple Times. I can't STAY asleep
Lately it's my dreams. Horrible...violently bloody dreams that disturb me simply for having the capacity to dream them. It's what wakes me up in fits and starts, and keeps me up this morning.
I've heard that if you write down your dreams as soon as you can after you wake up, you begin to remember your dreams easier and more often. So...what should I do if I want to forget them as soon as possible, but can't get them out of my head? Perhaps writing them down might erase them from my head, as they would have been transferred from one medium to another, from brain to paper. It's flawed logic at best, but that's something I think I specialize in these days.
I think I'm getting moody as a result of my lack of sleep as well. And I think that's already been happening, just in slow enough increments that I didn't really notice. I don't like being moody, especially because I think it affects my effects on other people more than I would like. I don't especially consider myself a moody person, but I have been known to swing one or another on certain occasions. That's only heighted by what's going on now.
Also, it's strange, but lately I'm unduly warm under my covers. I'm going to try turning the heat down, but I really don't think that it was that hot to begin with. This is where I insert a joke about my natural hot-ness, but given the situation, I think I'm allowed to skip it for right now.
Ok, that's it, there's nothing substantial here, this post is just to help me pass some time until I think I can fall back asleep.
Heh, and it's no wonder people keep telling me that I look tired.
Posted at 03:08 am by Psybabar
Monday, December 04, 2006
I watch the stars from my window sill, the whole world is moving, but I'm standing still.
I used to think that I had to be in a certain "mood" to write. It was this mindset that led to the first discontinuation of this blog. I could never really classify "insipration" as a mood, and so therefore, I could never identify when I did feel inspired. As that continued, I found myself writing less and less, because I was inspired less and less, to my knowledge.
Now, I find that while I can write no matter what state of being I'm in, it still takes a spark of something to have me write well. Whether it's anger, pride, joy, or madness, I really could turn anything out into something. All that really isn't important, but there it is nontheless.
And the world spins madly on...
I feel like that's been happening so much lately, that other people have just either been passing me by, or that I have just been left down and out and behind. I have yet to do much beyond working at a resturant since graduating college. Even friends I have live lives that i wish I could be a bigger part of, or just be a part of in general.
Heck, at times, I think I could settle just for knowing what they were doing. (That sounds a bit stalker-ish, I know. But don't worry, I don't know where you sleep)
It's just that this feeling of not doing anything is getting to me. I would rather be pathetic than lonely, and I guess I'm just more lonely that I thought I would be out here. I know that I have friends elsewhere, in otherwise inaccessible areas, who love and support me. But being face to face is completely different.
I'm dealing though, with some things. Others though....not so much.
I wish I could resolve a few things, and figure out what other people are thinking.
Could you make me a psychic with telepathic mind-reading abilities, if only for a few short days? That would really rock, AND it would be helpful to me.
Your Pal, Brian
Yup, it just seems my people reading skills aren't up to snuff lately, though they do tend to fizzle out sometimes when faced with something that occupies my mind to a fair extent. I'm trying to sound casual about this, but really....I'm not. I'm still trying my best to play Cool Hand Luke.
Honestly, I just want to hang out.
Posted at 01:45 am by Psybabar
Friday, November 17, 2006
Tomorrow I board a plane and leave my midwestern locale for about two weeks. My Uncle Chip invited me to go on a week long cruise in the Western Caribbean. It's totally free of charge excepting the cost it takes to get me down to the port of departure and the cost of all the gambling and drinking I intend to partake in. After said cruise I'm going to be spending time with my Dad in St Petersburg for a few days and I'm looking forward to it to no end.
When I return, not only will I be tanner AND fatter than I was when I left, I wil be 23. I will be at sea both for Thanksgiving and my birthday.
It occurs to me though that not everyone could partake in an event like this. Barring the fact that this is costing me basically nothing, most people would be held down with work or school or other responsibilities that would keep them. And it's funny really, because even now that I've become a College Graduate (I've got a piece of paper in a frame and EVERYTHING!!) now that I have things like due dates and homework behind me...I don't often remember that OTHER people still have obligations that go beyond my needing to pay for rent and food every month.
Some small part of me thinks that because I'm done with school work, now everyone else is too. Because I don't have to, no one else will ever again.
I think some small part of me thought that it would be summer forever.
I still wish it could be.
So long, Space Cowboy....
Posted at 04:20 pm by Psybabar
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I was meant for applause, I was meant for derision.
I was in the process of writing a literal narrative of what I had recently experienced, and then I stopped, mortified that I was turning into "THAT KIND" of a writer. I would have slapped myself, but the mental image of that ACTUALLY happening made me laugh and restart my writing. And so here we are.
I am not here to write about my day. I am not here to inform all 4 of the people who actually read this thing what I DID on a certain day, week, lifetime...whatever. Honestly, I NEED to write this thing for my own needs and myself only. I like to write, but I LOVE to create. I hear people tell me that they are "Good writers" when in fact have nothing to write about but the actions that took place during thier daily routine. I'm not saying that I havethe most interesting and compelling thoughts as I go about my life.....but come on, at least I have a reaction and an interpretation.
I want to write and publish these blogs because it gives me some small satisfaction that I've created a form of expression. And it gets me back into my old spoken word days. I recently started writing some spoken word (but that's all you're going to hear about that)
I've been thinking about some poetry that I wrote before...and I impressed myself. It's a good feeling to look back at something like that and think "Damn...That's GOOD." I kinda wonder what happened to have me stop writing poems of worth, or writing altogether. Did I lose interest or inpsiration? Or if both, which first?
I like that, in the face of desperation and isolation, I've been forced to start writing again. This gateway creative process is helping me to other, greater projects. Well, that and alcohol and caffiene, and perhaps my fever dreams.
I CANNOT stress how much my feverish inspiration of the last post helped me. It's....unorthodox, but it was necessary and COMPLETELY out my head. Flashes of inspiration came to me like lightning, but leftjust as quickly. I wrote for HOURS, paper, digital, blog...whatever came within reach. It was UNREAL. Too bad most of the writings were about how I view myself, as opposed to a screenplay I can sell for copious amounts of money, fame and fortune.
This doesn't mean anything, but it's been going through my head.
They say that a whisper
Damages your voice
More than a shout
That's why I will barely breathe
When I tell you those words.
So I will be telling you the truth
When I say
"This hurts me more than it hurts you"
So whisper something back to me
So I can belive that you will ache
To some degree.
Enh...it's not great...nor even good really, but I think there's potential there. Whatever, that was just running in my head the other day.
I went to go see Rise Against in concert and now I'm a fan.
Posted at 11:06 pm by Psybabar