temporary website.

trying to get this going —–> lifeineverydirection.com

it’s evolving right now, but hopefully by the new year i’ll have a new (and hopefully final) home on the internet (a synthesis of all my websites) …

hopefully, hopefully.

in need of a kick in the ass

if i had to boil it down to something i’d say i don’t want to be alone. and yeah, i’m not alone, i have my family and my friends, blah, blah, blah. i love them much, but by alone i mean ‘known.’ we all want to be known by someone. maybe it’s the 4 in me saying ‘what do you think of me?’ maybe it’s my continual battle with self-esteem. i’m not sure what it is, really, but i do know that i can feel alone in a room full of people.

i know i’ve been talking about my voice a lot, but it’s something that’s been nagging at my insides. it’s one thing to share yourself with people, but it’s an entirely new thing when you don’t even have to say a word because they know you already. and despite your flaws, despite your never-ending struggle to not feel like you have nothing to offer, anyone, ever… they still love you, just the same.

i never said i had it all together. i’m the first to admit that i don’t. i’m the first to admit that most nights i go to bed thinking how nice it must feel to fall asleep next to the person you will fall asleep next to for the rest of your life. there’s a security in that commitment i have never known.

i walked around outside tonight until 3 am wondering why i’m wired this way. i wonder why God can’t just fix things for me. why what i have to say isn’t that interesting. why usually my stories get drowned out by someone else’s. why i have to be so selfish.

the cynic in me believes that everyone is selfish. the spirit in me wants to believe that everyone is wrestling with these issues, too.

i wonder why i can’t switch off jealousy. i wonder how unattractive people find me. i wonder if i’m always going to have a reputation. does it get easier?

i wonder why people don’t look at me when they are talking to a group. i wonder why i’m always the one feeling like my faith is so much weaker than others. and i wonder why these feelings come and go so often.

i have to wonder how obvious my feelings are to others. i wonder if they get a sinking feeling in them because i suck life out of a room.

i wonder if they know the effort and worth i find in the songs i’ve written. i wonder if they know the pride i have in the little creative things i try to do.

i wonder if they know how much it hurts when i try to share the things i really love with others and they seem uninterested. i wonder if they know how deliberately i try to listen to everything they say and listen intently to the songs they want me to hear because i know how bad it hurts me when my songs and my stories are ignored (or at best tolerated).

i wonder if i’m just paranoid, but it sure doesn’t feel like paranoia. i hate how i keep a running tally of how many more times people want to hear what others have to say and when i look back on our conversations it feels as though they’re constantly looking for a way out.

i love/hate sympathy. sympathy means someone cares and someone wants to listen to me. sympathy also means someone changes their posture because i whined enough.

even in this moment i want someone to listen to me. sometimes, i feel like i could be standing on a soap box with a megaphone and they wouldn’t acknowledge me, let alone what i have to say.

i wonder what about me makes me undesirable.

i wonder if i can ever change that.

i wonder if these feelings will ever go away.

because they haven’t for the past 10 years…

i don’t feel like i love much tonight.

but i want someone to hold me. and just listen to me. and let me let all of this out.

and since i know that won’t happen, i’ll swallow it all and try act pleasant for the sake of others, because really, i’m just looking for their approval anyway.

life of late

irony

is a curious thing when you talk about things objectively, that are really subjective.

a reason to smile

Listen to my song called “My Heart” (here) first before (or while) reading this post.

Tonight was spent reveling in some nostalgia. Wendy studied at our place tonight and Dave and I shared songs we had written (predominantly about love and love lost). One in particular (“My Heart”) made me red because I had written with such conviction about a girl I was convinced I would spend the rest of my life with. And here I am today… still searching.

The search isn’t so bad to me anymore. This has come up in some recent conversations with friends, but it’s remarkable to think about “the one” (if there is just one person you’re destined to be with (which I don’t believe)).

What’s she doing? Where does she live? Are we excited about the same things in life at this moment? When will our paths meet? Have our paths already met?

Exciting. I cannot wait to pour myself out to someone. She’s not here yet, but soon. What a reason to smile. :)

stir fry and pumpkin pie

Some thoughts…

- There’s something inspiring and intoxicating about pipe organs and lasers in old churches.

- People are wonderful/beautiful.

- Rick’s is going to fill me with joy (and clog my arteries)

- I love pumpkin pie.

- I love making it with friends even more.

- Dave and I found a couch.

It’s been a good day.

Goodnight, world.

010 || a little tour

A little tour of our place in Pasadena. I’ll probably make another one of these guys around the city. Stay tuned.

Peace.

listening

‘Where the Wild Things Are’ opened last week in Los Angeles. Please note, this movie is not meant for children. It deals with mature themes of insecurity, brokenness, and a longing to find where you belong. One particular ‘Wild Thing,’ if we’re going to call them that, struggled to find his voice. I’m here to talk about him.

If we’re honest that’s what we all want in the deepest parts of our being – to be heard. To be heard is to be valued and to be valued is to be loved. Something inside each of us has a voice that needs to be heard and when the one thing you feel you have to offer is drowned out by the (often unintentional) noise of others it can be a pretty devastating experience.

I think we all need lessons on listening and observing. Sometimes we have to learn to stop talking and listen to someone. And sometimes all someone needs is to not feel like their voice goes out into a vast emptiness, for nobody to appreciate it. However elementary as that can possibly sound we simply have trouble practicing it. Having something beautiful to say or sing or display  go unnoticed is a tragedy, because we all have a part in the song. And the song needs each one of us.

May we listen better.

getting there

In an effort to immerse myself in creativity, I’m reviving this blog. 2009 has been, perhaps, the most influential time in my 23 years of existence. Moving across the country tends to have that affect on people. I’ve done my share of moving in the past few years. Each time with a sense of loss and hope for the future. Each move more dramatic than the one before. Throwing yourself into a new community sends you on a existential trip pretty quickly – a place I have ever-increasingly found myself these days.

Education has a way of forcing you to define yourself definitively, which can turn ugly fast. All of a sudden the learning process turns from head knowledge to existential crisis and all because you meet one person who has their life figured out. But it seems God always has other plans doesn’t it? We are lost people trying to find some solid ground to stand on and a direction in which to head. So focused on the destination to appreciate the importance of the journey.

Getting there isn’t the point, is it?

I like to think that we can’t ever have anything of true worth to offer until our feet are worn and dirty from the road that we’ve traveled on.That break up, their constant encouragement, those friends who’ve abandoned you, the person who showed you unwavering love and grace. You carry a part of them with you everywhere. They are pages in your travel log. And without them what you have to offer would be far less.

There’s something raw and beautiful about the passion of one who’s ‘been there.’ There’s a credibility that comes from the recovered drug addict that cannot be achieved by the Psychologist no matter how many doctorates decorate his/her wall. It’s because the path that’s lead to resurrection speaks to people at a much deeper level than the loftiness of education.

And that’s what it’s about: resurrection. If there can be a resurrection at every twist and turn of the journey then we begin to hope. Every time we fail, every time we fall in love, in every struggle, and in every celebration. We are working toward our final resurrection, our final (and present) hope.

The journey just makes it all that much sweeter.