Saturday, March 08, 2008

 

03.08.08-03.31.08

Holy damn, those hands.

So soft... and warm.

So soft and warm and... magical.

It's like she removed all of the stress from my own.

I didn't want to admit it...

but my aching hand feels better than before it started acting up in the first place.

But she just has the effect on everything.

You think you'd get used to it.

Almost all of the songs nowadays are about sex.

Not even making love-- just sex.

That or falling out of a relationship, cheating or wanting to be in a relationship.

There aren't enough songs about being in love.

At least, enough with an ample amount of substance.

There aren't enough songs that echo the absolute weakness that can be induced by just a quick viewing of a genuine smile or the disabling ability of a significant other's striking glance from those deep twin hues of eyes that one can easily get lost in.

There aren't enough songs about the warmth generated in a simple embrace, that is far from simple, and the aura that it creates that makes the entire outside world obsolete in comparison to that single moment of affection.

There aren't enough songs that focus on the emollient effects of one solitary kiss and its potential to quell all storms, ease all stresses and push back all burdens that might be weighing on the world of someone.

At least, when it comes to hip-hop and R&B.

But at this point, that might be asking for too much.

You ever ruminate over the possibility that maybe we're at the point in our absolute timeline that He's just stepped back and is waiting for our move, that now he's just left it up to us-- to see if we are worthy creatures after all?

Most of the time, only two questions cross my mind before making a decision.

A) Is it funny?

-or-

B) Would an idiot do this?

And now that I have free time, I feel like I'm wasting time more than ever.

It's your meditation on death that empowers your life.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe I like suffering in my own little ways.

Perhaps as a reminder, as a reason and as a springboard.

It doesn't make sense but it does.

I'm not making this any easier.

Stop.

Stoooop.

Stop it.

Stop it now.

"Well it's all for the sake of arriving with you
We could make this into anything
We could make this into more than words we speak
This could make us into anything
It could make us grow and become what we'll be"

So much I want to do or to say, and even moreso, feel I should.

But I throw up excuses like "studying" into the mix and whatnot.

I can't start if you can't stop.

My problem?

Build-up.

I'm like a dam.

Or rather, a fence.

And while I might find a hole to stick my hand through and I'm constantly looking on the other side, I cannot truly explore that other world until I've cleared that bad boy.

I can look through the cross-hair all I want.

It's just a matter of pulling the trigger.

But when I'm on, I'm on.

In this town alone, there are so many people that you might see someone one day and there's the possibility that you'll never see them ever again for the rest of your and their life.

The fact that I see the people that I see often-- is enough of a blessing for me...

...and is ample reason enough for me to stave off seeing you if that's what needs to happen?

If that makes any sense.

There are certain aspects of my reputation that I do and do not like.

But like with many things, it's a double-edged sword.

Or something.

All Those before Mose.

That's just the way it's always been, I suppose.

I just wanna dance.

Full out.

I just wanna sing.

Euphoniously.

I just wanna lounge out.

Free from complication.

I just wanna be.

With you.

Hello there.

My name's Ryan.

Please, allow me to make your day.

I've done enough of that back home.

Do I really need to start up here?

Freakin' pedestals.

I'm no Superman.

Oh, holy damn, how great it felt.

The things I would do for her.

If she asked for the Universe, I would give it to her, two-fold.

Things are getting heavy, but she somehow releases me.

Faith.

Everything'll work out-- always does.

It might not be the same, people and circumstances will have changed, for. sure.

But we'll make it work.

Because they're not little boys and they'll handle it like men, not gladiators.

I always vibe correctly in whatever situation I'm put in.

It's usually just a problem with starting.

Modest beginnings.

Fine performance.

Strong finish.

That's the way it's always been, I guess.

It's not mo'fruckin' Chess.

It's not even Checkers.

It isn't a game at all, Ryan.

Stupid.

I'm juggling too many things at once right now.

It's a spicy dish that sometimes goes down hard, but I like to have my Life dish with a grain of salt.

Now would be a damn good time for a moment of clarity.

I'm just saying.

One can't truly love something until they realize its mortality.

Sometimes you just gotta be the bigger person.

As hard as I work in successfully pulling things off, I can ruin some things effortlessly without even trying.

This has been quite the taxing quarter.

Go Go Gadget can't catch a break.

What I can't admit haunts me the most?

I sometimes have to take breaks from watching Arrested Development because it reminds me of my own life.

Minus the dysfunctional famjam and the comedy (for the most part).

So, I was introduced to addiction tonight-- I mean Brawl.

There goes Spring Winter if I get my hands on a freakin' copy.

I'm just saying.

Today in the Daily Nexus there was an article about a 3-day non-violence truce between 3 major gangs in the better Santa Barbara area.

It made me smile.

And also forced me to reminisce.

You cats need to stop acting stupid and keep things at the happy equilibrium we've been working towards for years.

Too much pride.

Guys are retarded.

So unnecessary.

There's too many things going on at the moment.

This didn't need to occur right now.

You can't lose what you don't put in the middle-- but you can't win much either.

Let me be the judge of that.

Sugar bacon.

Let me be your study break.

Your relief.

=-=-=

She reminds me a masterpiece painting or series in a gallery. She draws attention in crowds and everyone knows of her mystifying and enigmatic attraction.

Aesthetically, she is pleasing beyond measure with subtle features-- a perfect culmination of comfortable vestitures of cool-tone comforts, softly blanketed by complementary layers of enhancing make-up touches.

But at night, the lights shut down and she is left in a lonely solitude whose silence screams with an emotion that no one truly hears.

I can't help but gaze upon it, and contemplate about the artist's intention.

What secrets hide in the metaphors?

What meanings are being witheld and constricted by the binds of snapshot representations?

How would my life change if I happened to steal it in the deep hours of the midnight?

=-=-=

People always talk about what I deserve.

What about what I want, hmm?

Blessed are the flexible, for they will never be out of shape.

Let's see what this Fujitsu's made of.

You'll never grow to be men if you keep acting like little boys.

=-=-=-=

Sudoku--the whole craze would confuse me. While I was off daydreaming or doodling in class, everyone around me was engulfed in their Daily Nexus papers scrambling for the Daily Sudoku, using their remaining class time to tackle it. I’d come home and my house mates would be sitting around the kitchen table wracking their brains over it. As I waited in line at the U-Cen or even at a local food joint, I’d see people with little 99 cent Sudoku books, their colorful covers trying to call out to me. You’d go to the library and people were on other websites with even more daily Sudoku puzzles. I couldn’t get away from it.

It was an epidemic that was infecting the campus-- hell, THE NATION. A sweeping horde of what they called the “samurai of puzzles.”

I refused to succumb. Not today, not tomorrow, not never. I had better things to do.

Now, have you ever tried your hand at Sudoku? It’s a little brain-teaser puzzle that is nothing more than a 9x9 grid composed of squares, sectioned off into smaller 3x3 grids within. The idea is to try and get the numbers 1-9 in each square, with no doubles in any horizontal or vertical lines or within the same 3x3 square. Sounds tricky? It is. Thankfully,they hook you up with a couple of numbers beforehand to start your journey.

I’ll be honest. To me, the whole thing just seemed like a waste of time. There were other ways I could better be spending my time and I already wasted enough of it doing stupid things anyway. Anything else on my side dish of ridiculous freedom, and it would edge out all notions of productivity within me. Really, I was just striving to save myself.

Then one fateful day, I woke up and I felt even more groggy and lazy than I usually am. I was sick. And it was raining. There was no way I was going to make it to campus that day, even in the off-chance that I had wanted to.

The TV was a bust since during the day they show nothing but kids’ programming and soap operas and sleeping was becoming more and more of a hassle to even attempt. I could only really physically move in short, miraculous bouts. Had I been in a race with a sloth at the moment, I wouldn’t have had a shred of hope for victory. If I had awoken in a graveyard instead that day, someone would have mistaken me for a zombie as I groaned and slumped my way out of it.

Now, I’m wide awake, feeling like an amoeba, and I’ve nothing to do to keep myself entertained, left only with my thoughts and let me tell you, I would much rather be in a cage match with a pride of angry lions than be left alone with my thoughts. To be stuck in one of my random streams of consciousness is a fate worse than death that I wouldn’t wish upon anybody. Trust me.

So, what’s a poor, bored and sick soul that doesn't want to ruminate himself into oblivion to do? I look over at the coffee table and see a familiar colorful cover. I don’t know if it was the medicine, but its flashy and extravagant letterings were popping out at me in a bright glory.With a faint aura emanating from it, it beckoned, “Hello… Open me, Ryan. You know you want to… Just do it, Ryan. Do it…”

That wily little bastard certainly had a way with words. My defenses had crumbled. I reached over.

I didn’t even know where to begin. Despite the vast amount of empty spaces within the entire puzzle, it was overwhelming. I looked around nervously, as if someone was looking over my shoulder, like it was a final that was graded on a live or die scale. It was hard, far harder than I had anticipated—or maybe just as hard as I feared that it was.

It was frustrating. I could memorize an entire dance in a half hour. I could drop bombs of organic chemistry knowledge just as easily as I could sing a song or rap a verse. Playing beer pong? I could explain the physics of your trajectory and tell you why your arc is so pristine. I could debate like it was my profession on the state of hip hop and R&B in the music industry and its adverse effects on the very populations that tune into it. I could sketch you, your parents, your sister, your brother, the girl he wants to marry and the guy she's cheating on him with and your dog, all in front of your house, on a rainy day and get every single detail, including every minute speck of rain, in under 20 minutes flat. I know the fastest route through Disneyland so that you could get on every ride worth doing in only half a day, regardless of the amount of people there.

But I couldn’t finish a single puzzle on a novice difficulty in under an hour.

It wasn’t the medicine. I just wasn’t as mentally prepared for it as I usually am with every other endeavor I take a stab at.

I spent the entire day with that little booklet as if I had a major crush on it, venting to it all of my frustrations and languishing for all of its little secrets and overall appeasement. What had started off a little under a quarter completed was fully solved by the time my house mate had come back home.

I owed him a dollar’s worth of Sudoku. So really, one colorfully covered paperback book. A diminutive token of appreciation for a lesson learned.

Though my health prevented me from expressing it so wildly, I basked in the glories of victory. It was a hard-fought battle, but in the end, I prevailed over that bad boy. But that’s not to say that I didn’t suffer any injuries in the heat of the match up. I was also schooled like a child, humbled a far cry beyond any other instances in my past. Who would’ve thought that in all my time here in college, my greatest opposition would be from that of a simple little puzzle.

I take that back—it is far from simple. Like many things in this world, it is composed of many degrees of complexities and, like many things in this world, is not to be underestimated.

It’s always the little things that seem to catch you off guard.

=-=-=-=

A pedestal is not where I belong.

Docking out...
-Ryan : I gots places to be

Ryan posted this at 4:47 AM.