Crowded Living Rooms

Life without any sort of reflection can become lacking in the possible rewards of wisdom. Why do we do what we do?

As I reassert my efforts into this new year, I try to stay focused and aware of the pitfalls that have plagued my past. A constant barrage of self-doubt and apathy towards presented situations caused me to under-perform during a good portion of my life. I became the weekend warrior, without a care for striving for the best-version-of-myself.

The minimum was just fine for me and I didn't look to create any static about it. I had the comfy office job and the roof over my head and the car payments to satisfy any average materialistic notion of what constitutes happiness. But I soon became weary of it all--realizing that any motivation I had for getting out of bed every morning was beginning to fade. I needed to prioritize my values and look into myself to discover what made me my authentic self.

In my heart of hearts, I am a writer, or better yet, I am a storyteller. All my life I had a vivid imagination that often times would run away from me--almost to the point where others would classify me as strange. I knew that my role as an adult existed somewhere between the creative arts and the fact that I isolated that part of myself from my everyday practice began to deteriorate me to my very core. I knew I needed to give myself a shot, or die trying.

It is with that goal in mind that I made the tough and a bit reckless decision to leave my job to pursue a path that produces far more rejection stories than successful ones. The decision to leave a nest of security for a creative project that was underdeveloped and poorly managed would be my first test of real life rejection and failure. In no less than a month of taking a gamble, I was already a loser in the biggest way possible.

There is something to be said when one can find strength when faced with trial and adversity. After my failed business startup experience, I sank into the deepest pits of self-doubt and depression. By this point I had never experienced true hardship in my own life. I do not wish to project this perception of myself that says that I survived real life tragedy -- there are people out there that are surviving much worse -- but I cannot help but feel a sense of growth after hitting my own sort of rock bottom. My life truly changed once I understood that in order to rebuild the strongest of foundations, you must meet the dirt, mud, and earth head on.

Perhaps when enough time and perspective has passed -- and I have grown a bit wiser from my past mistakes -- I will better articulate my lessons, in the hopes that I can share for the benefit of others.

Until then, I'm still searching.

Stay vigilant, my friends. It will all make sense in time.

Crowded Living Rooms

Haven't slept much, 
feeling how much a warm bed is a luxury. 

Nights in crowded living rooms. 

Mornings in empty cafes. 

The journey for change is 
an incredibly lonely process. 

Too much time to think about all 
the wrong turns. 

Like living in a glass bubble, 
unable to touch anything that resembles
a former life. 

Short Story Part IV: Reflection

As part of my continued effort to share my writer's journey, as well as build my platform for my own published works, I will share with you now my next installment of my short story currently untitled.

As I said when I first began posting this series is that this story would be a launching pad for a possible on screen adaptation that I am currently developing and perhaps act as a background story to one of the key characters.

Your feedback is appreciated (though please treat with gentle gloves, as I don't have it as polished as I would have liked). I understand that this is all part of my overall evolution and that this by no means is the endpoint to where I currently am.

I humbly say that I am still working at it! Enjoy!

Part IV: Reflection

Even up here I look for some time away. With a pen in my hand, it wasn’t too hard to find that place. I sat in the dining room finishing a sketching of sunrise. It was of the lake house. It looks like a dance across the water. Angela knows how I need the time. Kept me from unraveling.

It could very well be past three in the morning when I first hear it. The sound feels distant but I know it wasn't far. The bourbon must still be feeling fresh.

I put my scrapbook away when I hear it knocking again. Its soft, just barely. Probably wouldn't have heard it otherwise. Maybe I was waiting for it.

I turn towards the hallway, down the living room. The knocking is just above a whisper, just above... the silence.

A familiar ice-cold chill runs up my spine as I come upon the double doors, same heart beat ringing in my ears. I slide the doors open to reveal an empty room bathed in the moonlight outside. I switch a nearby table lamp to see the room just the same. Fuck me, I need to stop letting my mind wander. The drapes in front of an open window rustle against my uncle’s old liquor cabinet. It beckons to me.

Grabbing a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, I begin to pour myself a glass. One more for the sandman. I savor the whiskey with my eyes closed, thinking of where I am and how things would be okay. It’s been close to a week and no contact from my guy.

“Leave us.”

I freeze. That voice. I was nine years old again.

“You need to leave,” it whispers.

In the reflection of the liquor cabinet mirror, I see him. A small child, frail and weak with hollow eyes, standing in the main doorway. I can't move and I don't dare speak. Through the dirt and rust of the cabinet mirror I recognize those same eyes off the mirror reflection, so many years ago.

“Please go now.”

My mouth, tense and dry, begins to speak, “Why?”

“You don’t have much time.”

“Who…are you?”

In a cold trance, I suddenly turn around. I'm staring at the living room doorway, empty.

“Fuck me,” I said.

In a cold sweat, I put the bottle away and close the cabinet door.


Happy New Years!

First and foremost I would like to wish everyone a Happy New Year! I know this is late but it is still the first week.
I can't express to you all how happy I am to reach a new chapter in all of our lives and that another year is in the books. I am sure there are a mixed bag of emotions of how we all may feel about the last year (I for one have had my ups and downs) but I would encourage everyone to look forward with a sense of optimism.
I have never been the jovial, New Year-crazed type of individual that gets excited over new years resolutions. I tended to believe New Years was an excuse to party and that most resolutions are forgotten within the first 3 months. But I'm starting this year off with a new sense of opportunity for myself and for those I care about.  Last year was the year for tremendous growth. 2015 will be the year that the fruits of my sow will be realized.
I know for the most part, my aspirations for this year is to make serious strides towards my goals as a screenwriter, one of which being my first screenplay with my writing partner. We've made good progress drafting pages at the end of last year,  but the true challenge is ahead of us with the meat and bones of the story yet to be explored.
I also have desires to get back into community service, developing my own production business,  enjoy camping,  and get back into stage performing.  These are all projects that may encompasses a larger portion of a few years, but I hope that this first quarter of the year will be the beginning of those journeys. 
And finally,  the continued development of my first blog. I have taken a number of hiatus breaks from this site, but I am still committed to seeing that this page succeeds, even if it just becomes a simple blog. I want to share my thoughts and visions and ideas to the world, even if it is just a tiny space in the infinite digital chasm.