The Wind's Muse

Me

2010-01-16T23:15:00.000-08:00

Don't let the title of this post lead you to the wrong conclusion. I have no intention of producing a narcissistic sentiment about my person, I simply have no other word that would correctly encapsulate all of what this post will do.

I don't remember a time in my life when I wasn't broken. Maybe it is the nature of things, you know, the fact that humans seem to crack all over the surfaces of their souls. I don't know many people who claim "wholeness" when it comes to their cosmetic moral makeup. In fact I don't know any, so maybe it is the cynic inside of me that assumes imperfection of self-assurance as being inevitable. My kind of "broken" is impossible to describe in a blog post, so I suppose only droplets of my story's cup will trickle on to this website.

I remember my childhood well. This might be due to the simple fact that it was the most colorful time in my life. I think it might be that way for most people. The innocence of our eyes, the softness of our love, the gentleness of our intentions. The sheer purpose of our day, filled with nothing but free spirits and hopes of more to join. I remember these days well, but this comes mostly from the fact that the days to follow them would be grey - both in color and clarity.

I tell the same story every time I describe what I went through growing up. The truth is, I don't remember anymore. Maybe the story changed so many times in my mind, somewhere along the line I started to convince myself that everything I believed was true. I know two absolutes: my parents were divorced and, as a result, my life was infinitely altered. To say the origination of my turbulence was the day my father left because of a sincere argument with my mother would be the most accurate statement I could make. Yet, somehow, that is no excuse for the path on which I have chosen to walk. Looking back, I have never known where my footsteps were leading me. I simply, walked.

First day of Middle School. I don't know when my parents officially split - though I claim to know this whenever someone asks - but my most vivid memory of the aftermath was on this day. I remember being very excited about two things: people, and a new locker. Lockers were a commodity back then; I was now able to store things, add my own flavor of decor, and have something that was completely mine. When you lose everything as a child, or rather everything you knew to be true, a simple thing like locker space can prove a useful ally. I had an area to store not only books, but I could store my emotions there. It was my sanctuary, that locker. Number 298, tenth in from the right of the end of the hallway, outside my History teacher's room.

Homeroom. I'm awkward, quiet, unsure of what to expect, and only look either forward or down since any other direction might prove intimidating. The last thing I needed was people. I knew destruction of relationships, not stability. But, as any child does, I developed friendships. I developed one in particular that I have maintained to this day. He is my best friend in the world. Someone who has known me longer than most everyone else. My life was beginning again, somewhat.

Eighth grade. By this point I shifted my persona so many times that I can't clearly remember who I even was. I didn't even know at the time. I knew only one thing by that point, and that was to avoid responsibility because, well, that word just sucks. I was a rebel, but a quiet one. I was the kind of rebel who made life hard on one person: myself. These are the people who sit in a room on St. Patrick's day wearing all red, making fun of all those in green while threatening to end the lives of any who attempt to pinch their skin as a result of their "faulty attire." I was a social menace, making life difficult for everyone around me - including myself. Homework sounded unpleasant, so I thought the neglect of simple work would overcome the consequences. I would learn many times in my life that I was very wrong about that.

High school. Where do I even begin? It's the most meaningful time of my life, those four years. Filled with multiple aspirations, both dying and rising. The replacement of one hope with another made the act of hoping a helpful distraction. It seemed my mind could never quite bend far enough to break, so it kept finding new ways to travel. One day I thought I would be the future creator of the greatest video game of all time. The next I would be Elvis Presley in training, just waiting for that big break I knew was coming. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I decided to be a choir director. Soon after that I was failing three classes, in danger of not graduating, and time had passed by so quickly that I didn't know where it went. I was eighteen with no guidance. I was a fool.

I managed to get into college, by the Grace of God, believe me. The first year there was amazing. I met people, altered my attitude, formed new relationships, was heartbroken, broke a heart, and found a new light in music. I was on top of the world. I didn't want it to end...ever.

It always does.

Sophomore year was when it all began, the problem that led me to writing a blog post at 2:45 a.m. in a room I don't pay to be in. I decided to be a responsible man. I was going to live off campus, pay my own bills like a man should, and I was going to prove to my father that I was damn near capable of doing anything. Never mind my intentions being completely derivative of societal conventions, that didn't matter to me. What mattered most was that I could do it.

After only three months I didn't have enough money to buy gasoline. I was barely eating some days, others I wasn't at all. My roommates knew nothing of it, as I would never relinquish my position of weakness. It was my issue, not theirs.

What would any good hearted, hopeful American do in a time like this you ask? Quite simple: obtain a credit card.

Suddenly I was eating ribs like I had a full time job at a corporate position. I was attending movies, purchasing video games, and boy was I enjoying my time at the arcade on Hall road. I was rolling in the dough. The fake kind, that is. The exact computer on which I type right this second was purchased with a credit card. I was addicted, starved for things. I could never have enough, but soon I reached my limit.

Soon after that, I was in debt over four thousand dollars. Imagine this: a kid playing adult in a house he can't afford, eating ribs, pizza, and savoring the sweet taste of media entertainment with money he had no means of repaying. It scares me to think that others do this too, and with ease. I had no clue what to do, so I did what any sensible person does: I got a loan.

Understand my sarcasm. I paid debt with debt. Literally. I swapped a problem with an issue. I was a fool, a child, an ignorant punk that thought he could yet again buy his way out. I was instead buying time. Unfortunately, time always moves.

So what is the point of this post? I'm getting there, bear with me.

I bought my way out of debt, purchased a new car (brilliant), and put a down payment on an apartment for $1600. I spent $15,000 in the course of a few weeks. Incredible.

But, suddenly, I gained a newfound sense of fiscal responsibility. I budgeted, I planned, I threw out my cards, and most importantly I was happy.

This is the cusp of the climax kids, hang on.

Here I was, exactly one year ago from this very month, in the best spot I can remember myself in. I was in no immediate debt, no trouble, no stress, I was in love and I had it all. But, when you build an empire made entirely out of how great you are, the fall is so much harder. In the course of one week my world fell apart around me. My nephew died, my soon-to-be fiance ended things, the relationship with my roommate was in great turmoil, and I was numb to the core. I decided to deal with it. I decided not to get drunk, not to get high, not to get laid, no I decided none of those things. I decided to buy my way out of sadness.

Four credit cards, three months later and I was back in the hole. Same hole I was in before, only more. To this day I have been trying to crawl out of it, but my hands are numb. I can't even see the surface above it anymore. All I see is my failure, the cause of what I thought were inequities, building and crushing me further into the core of my mistakes. I feel walled in, suffocated.

I have fallen very far. I'm a mess. I'm not okay. I can't tell my father out of fear. I can't tell my friends out of shame. I can't pray to God without feeling like a beggar. I can't go to myself out of doubt. I feel I have no real way out, yet every second I remain inside I grow more weary. It is not escape I wish, but rather I aim for redemption.

In the last thirty six hours the financial hole I'm in has increased by almost two thousand dollars. To alleviate some of this, I went to the computer lab at the school and made some phone calls. I was doing this to make plea deals with places so I could gain some favorable advantage in my situation. Nothing worked.

As I got off my phone for the last time, I heard a voice behind me.

"I'm sorry, but, I couldn't help but hear you talkin," a black woman, seemingly in her early thirties, pierced my eyes with her meaningful gaze, "but are you a christian?"

Unsure of how to speak without breaking down in tears, I painfully muttered, "Yes."

"May we pray?" she reached her hands out to me. I grabbed them and stood, silent and in complete arrest at the powerful nature of the moment.

"Here," she reaches in her pockets and pulls out some paper, a pack of gum, and crumpled up dollar bills.

"Don't,"I muttered through shivering lips and broken eyes, begging her to stop. "You really don't have to do this. I'll be fine."

"Son, God spoke to me today. Read this," as she shuffled through more of her belongings she handed me a piece of paper. I will post the opening, as it made my heart sink when I read it.

For we, as people of God, know that His kingdom is built on grace, on His word. We as people cannot be within the things we carry, but we must live through the things we carry. God's money is not miser's money to spend and cherish, it is meant to be given. It pleases the Lord when his example is put into the circulation of our lives.

That email was sent to her thirty minutes before we met. Twenty minutes later we were at a gas station, filling my gas tank halfway. She didn't give me gas money because she felt good about it, she did it because she believed it was Grace, flowing freely through the circulation of our pockets.

"God loves you. His money will get you home. His money will feed you, as one day He will use you to feed others. God loves you. He loves you. God loves you." She kept saying it as if it were as real as the fabric of my shirt, soaking up my tears.

God is amazing.

I am in a lot of trouble, I can't lie. I need a lot of money and fast. I have no way of obtaining it, nor would I ever ask anyone for it unless I knew I could pay it back. I'm a man of pride, and possibly to a fault. My pride got me in the problem I'm facing right now.

Since the first day of middle school, I have been broken. Once by family, then by ignorance, followed by faulty aspiration, and finally by heartbreak. From a child, to a young man, to the man I am today, I have never quite grasped the pure power of time. I have tried, even blogged about my reverential attitude about it. Yet somehow I still fail. I still do the same stupid things that get me in trouble. I'm technically homeless, barely have a job, and am scared more and more every day.

God is amazing.

I am fine, although all evidence would argue against that. See, I have a new favorite verse I discovered. Before I close and share it, I want to leave you with this: life is too wonderful, too precious to buy. Don't buy happiness, don't spend money because of things, put your money into the circulation of Grace. Lead your faith by the most powerful hand our world knows: currency. If you spend fervently on people rather than what people want, great things will happen. Eight dollars in crumpled up dollar bills and a half-filled gas tank changed my life. It meant the world to me. I will always remember it, and forever change my ways because of it.

For those concerned, just pray. I love you. Doesn't matter who you are, where you are, what you believe or where you want to go. I love you. One day I will look back and laugh. One day.

God is amazing:

1 Peter 5: 6-11

⁶Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. ⁷Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.

⁸Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. ⁹Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

¹⁰And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. ¹¹To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

New Beginnings to Old Endings

2009-10-15T23:30:00.000-07:00

Things are rapidly changing. Oh how rapidly things are changing. Three years ago I had a best friend, a girlfriend, and another best friend that shared their daily evenings with me at a round table in the lobby of a college campus - all for the sake of a spades game. We would laugh, sometimes scream; occasionally, we would lose sight of the fact that we were alive and well, and that we were - most importantly - together. It was in those quiet minutes after a petty argument that, for a moment, we would all look around the table and mentally burn the image of each other into our immediate memory for later use. Brenden, Fish, and Holly: I miss you all terribly.

A sophomore terrified of sudden change, my palms were sweating as if I had just finished running ten miles to class. Enter Tom Golden. A man with the poise of a giant, his humility poured out more vibrantly than even his opening words: Class, today we learn. They rang in my ears as if the inside of my head was hollow. The echoing sound of those words would cause my mind to ruminate on the very foundation of why I decided to go to school in the first place: knowledge. Word after word dropped out like trickling liquid, replenishing my ever-growing thirst for intelligent growth. The nourishment was too much to handle, causing me to stand abruptly and leave the room; one of my classmates shared a common goal as I noticed their route would lead them to the same water fountain I had envisioned during Mr. Golden's lesson. I allowed her first entry to the world of watery wonder, but as she bent down to sip the newly formed ark of water I realized something beautiful.

Forward two years. My life crumbles, I lose sight of everything I thought I wanted; I disown my own moral ambiguity so strongly that I replaced it with sexual endeavors and procrastinated actions. I don't see the light in Holly's eyes quite the same way, and any semblance of unity has been broken and replaced with our bodily dependencies. Muscles becoming weaker, food becoming shelter and credit cards becoming the foundation, my life began spiraling. This is not to paint the same cliche that so many artists have formulated over the years past; but, rather, I am insisting my time spent during this era of my life was that of a dizzying ride. I was unsure of how I could move on from anything when I had nothing to move on to. Still, as I look back I know I was seeing something beautiful.

Enter God.

"Clay, Blake's dead..." my brother's voice was haunting. His child of eight was dead, and in turn I lost a nephew.

"Ryan," what do I say?

"It's okay man. I love you," he clicked the end button, abruptly finishing the last conversation I would have with my brother - at least to this day.

I lay on my couch at five a.m. and wonder more wonders than my mind ever wondered before. A failed near-engagement, a lost nephew and a missing sense of self, it was safe to say I was at an all-time low. My self-awareness was so low that I forgot time; I didn't have my phone on for three days and had no clock set to the right hour. I became a ghostly visage of the once-known Clay Hargrave. I was a mess, but I realized something beautiful.

Remain God. Enter: my awareness of Him.

Only six months later and I am on top of the world. I have realized some things that are more beautiful than I ever thought of before. To depict these thoughts would be difficult, but I will use what little articulation I can in order to attempt this.

I have realized, above all else, that I cannot fight time. It bends, churns, shifts, changes, and runs its course with or without my approval. It observes, realizes, predicts and understands everything more delicately than a father knows his own son. I say this because I am done living in fear of the future. Can time not help me, rather than inflict fear? If I understand this precious resource, can I not achieve anything? Can I not travel, fall in love, raise a family, write and perform music; can I not do anything my mind has been able to formulate through dreams? I believe I can, with the right amount of time.

The beauty found in all of my times over the last three years was what I call "the moment." I remember that day at the water fountain so well I can tell you the color shirt the blonde girl of about five feet three inches wore that day. I can tell you the amount of stars in the sky that I could see through the living room window a year ago. I can relay to you the exact time my brother called me six months ago. The answers are red, six, and 4:43 a.m. Why? It's simple: I chose to be aware of time during those moments.

I am, from now on, going to live like this. I can't let time fight me, I have to coerce it into becoming allies with me. I must grasp its hands and walk, steadily, along my provided path. Should I make a wrong turn, time will be with me as I understand it as being present. I will no longer let it get away.

Things are rapidly changing, sure, but I am going to remember every second possible.

Some Life Crisis or...Something

2009-08-31T20:17:00.000-07:00

Today I became a fifth-year senior at my respective college of choice. It has been a long, strenuous journey - both academically and emotionally - and the culmination of everything has begun to surmount on my shoulders. The most convenient of resting places, this ball of mystical material, comprised of many tear-skewed memories coupled with laughter and regret, seems to move and shift everytime I go to point my arms in a new direction. Noticing mental stability, it does everything in its power to break the balance of my psyche which causes new stresses to evolve and take up base in various places in my mind.

I'm really confused, that's all.

A man in my position has no place in a college, except for the pre-concieved notions of what a fifth-year is to do. I'm suppose to be that guy that goes to his classes, has part-time jobs and takes regular sips of coffee in the morning for good measure. My presence on the campus is to be that of the quiet kind, being cautious in my guise so I don't disturb the imbalanced spirit of the fresh souls recently rooted into the dorm halls. I must remain diligent in my quest for the degree, focusing all of my energies on the prize rather than the road I travel to reach it.

I don't want to be that guy.

I can't form a logical thought about all of this, so I will finish later. I just had to update this site for once; and I had to empty that kernel of sadness so it wouldn't keep me from sleeping tonight. I'll expound soon.

2009-05-25T01:15:00.000-07:00

Is it true that when you can't think straight, you're incapable of thought? I don't know, but I might be experiencing something very similar at the moment. Cloudy visions blur my sight as my mind takes me, continually, back to the days that led up to the current one. I don't know why it is so hard to forget the things that haunt us, but I can't seem to even live them down at times. Why, in all of my stress, am I fine then? Why am I smiling, why am I happy; what within this fucked up structure that I currently have makes me feel like everything will be okay?

Is it because everything has always turned out okay? Maybe it is because most of the problems I have ever had, I inadvertently created through irresponsible actions.

I'm not even sure what I'm typing right now, but I know that my purpose tonight is to withdraw from hesitation while taking a leap forward in a new direction - regardless of how right it may be. I have a lot of skeletons in my closet, but the more cryptic and fucked up thing is that I'm in there with them. I have been wrestling with my past while re-living it through a more refined way of tactful placement when it comes to my decisions.

A good example of this can be found in my handling of currency. I don't really respect the amount of money I own, but mostly because I don't really respect the actions that are required to obtain it.

I hope I wake up tomorrow and understand anything I'm trying to articulate right now, but maybe the point is to not articulate, but rather meditate. I talk too damn much.

2009-04-27T02:50:00.001-07:00

The night air gripped us, stealing any air that flew from our lips; causing our eyes to focus more tightly on the stares they produced. Her arm reached around my back, gripping onto its muscles tightly, and with a poisonous kiss she numbed my body. My eyes opened and she was gone, away from this place, but the evidence of her poison rested on my chapped lips. Fallen to the floor, my knees crackle as exaustion takes them over, filling them with blissful memories of when they supported my stance. From deep within I started scarring, and the liquid that poured from the internally opened wounds began seeping through my eyes. With nothing to hold, I grab my legs and begin squeezing as if the pressure applied would ease the pain of my heart while transferring it to my body. But as true as the night her vile gift touched my soul, my heart became disconnected with the very organic being it sustained. Floating in front of my swollen face, I see the air lifting my pain high above me so it could rain back down, creating a cycle through the room from which I could not escape. Dwelling here I felt the assurance of time, reminding me of its infallible presence as it shifted the sky outside my window.

"Goodbye."

A single whisper breaks the room apart, causing its structure to crack and shatter, ridding the area of pain. Wading through the fallen pieces of what my poisoned breath made, my lungs created clean air to mix with it as my steps took me far away.

Within this soul you may find, a room looking bare and ready to be taken;

But know its tenants, bound by ropes of time,

Left it behind them, without trace of weakness.

To show the meadow, they are not broken.

Possible Project

2009-04-06T05:21:00.000-07:00

So, as most everyone knows, I have recently undergone a crazy emotional change lately and the only way I knew how to handle it was by accepting it and writing about it.

My friend, Chase, has also had a lot going on in his emotional stature in life and when he saw my blog, we started talking happy things. I need feedback.

How many people would come to a website in a fairly consistent manner if Chase and I posted on it? We would do various things: duo-blogs, movie reviews, rants, poems, etc. If people would be interested, I will pay for a domain name and we would begin.

This would do a lot of good things for me. It would not only get my writing skills going even more, but it would get experience under my belt for future job applications for various media outlets. If I had a website that I could refer them to, it would help immensely if they realized I had a consistently updated site with plenty of reference material on me, my skills, and my strengths within those skills.

But if no one will come to it, screw it. I'll just keep blogging and do my own thing; I don't feel like paying monthly for something that won't become of use.

So let me know, because the more feedback I get the more willing I will be to create the site. Thank you again to everyone who has been there for me, I look forward to the future. God Bless.

Ahh!!!

2009-04-03T18:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, seriously, screw emotions.

At first, when this decision of hers was made, I was like, "Damn, whatever. I'm done with this." But no, my heart decided to be an ass.

I am so tired of crying the last few days from wishing things were the way I wanted them to be, I'm not even sure how I have water left inside my body. I have never in my entire life been this miserable, and I hate the fact that it is basically inevitable; that I am going to have to go through this so I can get over the person I thought would be the love of my life.

Man, I hate this stupid love thing. I tried avoiding it when I was younger, and all of this crap is reminding me why; there is a tiny part of me that wishes I never fell in love with anyone, let alone two people at two different times that ended with the same one conclusion: Clay is fail, girl needs time away from Clay-fail.

Seriously, what is it about me that seems to be such a detterent? I do my best to give everything I have and while I do make mistakes, I seem to always watch as the love I poured into a cup just seeps out the crack that was in the bottom of it, unknowingly to me as I kept pouring, thinking it was the right thing to do. Then, eventually, I am so tired of the cup still not being full that I run out of energy, and the person finally tells me, "Oh by the way, I'm not thirsty."

Damn!

Is it stupid that I really am so in love that the thought of her not being near me anymore makes my body shiver? Is it stupid that at work today I saw a cover of the new movie Marley and Me and cried when I thought, "She would do that adorable baby voice and say this is cute." Is it absolutely pathetic of me to not go an hour without breaking down and crying at least for a minute?

Why am I THIS torn up? Why am I THIS beaten right now? I don't get it! If she wants to be alone, or even with someone else, why can't my heart just suck it up and say, "Alright, let's go elsewhere." Is it so hard to accept the fact that one female in my entire life got away before I could experience what it was like for her to want to stay? That was a wordy sentence, but I don't care.

I guess this is me venting my emotional state through frustrated persistence to get better. I'm not ignoring it or drowning it away with alcohol; I'm facing this and swallowing it like a man, saturating myself in every drop of pain that it creates so that once I finally get through it, there won't be any more pain to feel. It sure does make it a lot harder, and damn do I hate crying.

For whoever reads this, just pray will ya? I really, really need prayers.

Don't pray, "God help Clay and give him strength to..." blah blah, just say this for me, "God, don't let Clay be alone right now." That's it, nothing more. That statement is all I want God to remember, to always have someone - whether it be Him or a friend or a ferret - by my side to remind me why smiling is a better experience than crying.

I just can't seem to stop the latter.

Wrong

2009-03-31T17:40:00.000-07:00

I am worse than I thought I was, or that I predicted I would be.

Today it just hit me for some reason - I am in love with someone I can't be with. Is there any other pain this unbearable? I sure hope not, and I pray not many have to go through it.

I sincerely wanted to get married and have a family, struggle to make ends meet but be fine in lieu of our impenetrable love. I guess life isn't like a movie, and I suppose I can't be a director that pans every shot perfectly, crafting a work of art as I live on. I'm not sure why my heart is feeling this way, but it sincerely wants to shatter into a thousand different pieces.

I don't have any poetic realizations this time, and I suppose it goes without saying that nothing can be said or done to make it better, so I guess I'll just sign off with simplicity.

I really wish I could speed up time.

Hello There, Boy.

2009-03-29T22:31:00.000-07:00

I was working at Blockbuster tonight and the most bizarre thing happened, yet I found it to be an epic tale that will serve as a message of hope to all ye eight year olds.

I was doing the normal thing, which requires next to nothing, when my bladder decided it was pissed off and needed immediate attention. On my way to the designated area for such a problem, I was stopped by a tiny little boy, holding a movie. It went something like this.

"Hi," I said, in a calm, welcoming voice, "You finding everything alright?"

"Yes sir, I am." He called me sir, "How are you this evening?" He is wearing a sweater.

"I'm good man, what movie do you..." He is holding Die Hard, he cannot rent this film.

"Well sir, my father asked me to wait here while he went into CVS. I'm simply standing here until he returns." This kid is awesome. His name has to be something like Clarence. "Have you seen this movie? It's quite entertaining." Are you imagining this through a squeeky little voice? You should be.

I chuckle and state, "You have seen it? Isn't it violent?"

The following statement will forever change my life, and I think Clarence - not sure what his name is, but it must be Clarence - is the man.

"Are you afraid sir? It's simply a movie." Clarence won.

Not only was this moment epic in nature, he completely made my bladder forget about our original goal.

Clarence if you ever read this, know that you're awesome and that I wish to be like you one day.

Damn You Physics!

2009-03-29T00:03:00.000-07:00

I have recently picked up a new hobby that I am quickly falling in love with: bowling. Call me a dork, but it's a good time. Throwing a fifteen pound ball down a lane at fifteen miles an hour and watching it crash into white phallic symbols is enough to wet any appetite for boredom relief. The only reason I am writing about this is because how stupid people are about it, including myself.

There is a certain jargon involved in a recreational bowling alley, and if you've never gone to one then trust me when I say that it is quite humorous. No matter where you go, you will always hear something along these lines, "You got robbed dude!" or, "That was so a strike, it was sooo a strike." Newsflash: it wasn't a strike you goofy man you.

I'm giving out free logic lessons today. The first one is this: if you shoot a basketball through the hoop and aren't awarded a numerical value based on the distance from which you shot, you got ripped off. The second is: If you are playing hockey and make the goalie look like a jackass by shooting it between his legs, but aren't givin a score, you got ripped off. The third: If you throw a ball down a long stretch of wood into white things but they don't all fall over, physics hates you.

Who robbed us of our strike? I don't get it; it's not like there is some man underneath the pins with a magnet that holds one down every once in a while, making that 300 game seem that much further away. It isn't like the ball has a mind of its own and states, right before slamming into the pocket, "Nah, fuck the ten pin. I don't want to knock that one over."

To all of you who bowl, next time you complain and say you got robbed, just think about the fact that the only entity responsible is God.

Who else could keep that damn ten pin there?

Changes

2009-03-28T23:39:00.000-07:00

For the last three years I have slowly fallen in love with destruction. This isn't to say the person I love is destructive by nature, but that she continually destroys my ambition every time I think we make headway into this grand thing we call life.

Recently, we have broken it off close to five times in a year. Every time it has ended, I sincerely thought it was over and done with. Somehow, though, it always came back and seemed like the right thing to do. In the end it never was.

All of that changed until two months ago, or so I thought. We were back together after a terrible break up and a series of incredibly emotional circumstances. We thought about it like adults, talked our way through our problems, began a relationship with God at the center - doing devos and praying every night together over the phone - and everything seemed like it was going to be just like we always wanted: peaceful. We started looking at rings together, talking about marriage and thinking of what our life might be like. We loved the thought, or so we openly exerted to one another - I sincerely loved the thought, but now it seems she didn't feel the same. It was going so well that when I heard her words today, I didn't even get upset...I got pissed off.

She said to me that she needs time. She doesn't know if she is "okay without me" which is a problem. Now, logically, both of those things are fair and should not be argued with. It would be ignorant of me to assume we could ignore the facts, get married, then inevitably divorce because neither of us were honest about the situation. It wasn't that she was being honest and sincere that made me mad, it was the fact that she was hiding it behind a fake layer of complete bullshit; rather than communicate her feelings, she figured toying with the idea of marriage was more productive.

If you are doubtful about something, don't be a coward. Don't play with people and drag them down a path of misery and deceit just to let them loose at the end, give them the finger, and have your final gesture be something along the lines of, "I might be back, who knows." I'm seriously annoyed more than anything, mostly because of how stupid the entire thing is. I feel like a middle school student who got dumped for the jock - like I'm a toss-away because she thinks something else is more appealing, like being single. This wouldn't be such a problem if I hadn't been shopping for rings and talking about wedding colors five days ago.

Could I have a more fucked up love life? I mean for real, how annoying do we seem to everyone else around us? What would anyone be thinking if they thought we were good for each other? They would be fools at this point, just like I have been the last three years.

Before I get people bitching at me for being cold-hearted, I will make a few statements to off-set the mood. Holly is a great person and, if she wanted, could accomplish many things. She has a beaming personality, a strong sense of commitment when it comes to family, and an endearing presence when around her friends. She has a beautiful talent when it comes to creating things like drawings, paintings, music and smiles. She can honestly switch the mood of a room by simply being there - whether it be a good switch or bad.

She means well with everything she does, and I honestly believe that, but she just has no sense of truth. Thus far in our relationship - both platonic and romantic - she has proved that cowardice wins over responsibility when it comes to revealing her emotions. It almost seems like she convinces herself that she is fine, even though she is the only one that knows she isn't. I really hope she can fix that because one day it will come back to really bite her in the ass.

I am in love and it sucks that all of my nurturing and all of my commitment will only come to fruition in delusional ambition. I suppose there isn't anything else to say but this: my life is about to become affected by a shitload of changes. Most people know what they are already, but let's just say my life is about to become really...wet I think.

My heart isn't necessarily broken right now, just tired. Given the circumstances, I'm more emotionally at peace than anything. I'm not sure that I am ready to date anyone else, or even consider how a relationship would fit in with my new plan, but I'm not ruling anything out. I'm honestly just going to wake up every day and live it like it's my last.

I really am going to quit wasting my breath.

Emotions

2009-03-26T21:58:00.001-07:00

It is hard for me to fully express my emotional state right now. This has everything to do with my new life that is about to begin; a life I am not ready for yet, and am scared to witness. But more than that, it has to do with self-reflection and what all I have left behind; and - the new development - what is leaving me as well.

I left my entire life back in Ohio four years ago and the ramifications displayed how just the cause was. I worked to become a new man for the last four years and, for the most part, have improved in every way. I am more outgoing, I am a better listener, I am more passionate about my own life; I have more sincere conversations now than ever before, and most of that comes from a sense of curiosity embedded in my brain. The things I have done and have been continuing to do have all helped amass this being know as Clay Hargrave, and I have to say that when the mirror displays what everyone else sees, I'm proud.

Sure I'm fatter now and still take part in juvenile methods for curing my boredom - such as a video game or two...or four hundred - but I enjoy my life more often than not, and I find happiness to be the most important aspect of anyone's existence. I have worked my tail off on schoolwork and have put forth more effort in perfecting the art of writing than I have with anything else - even singing. It was the tactical placement of my passionate persona that got me this far, and I'm glad I had the friends I did when that passion was somewhere much more destructive.

It seems, then, that my emotional state should be nothing less than stellar. There is no reason for me to be down, but that isn't how our hearts work.

Within the position that I currently reside, it is logical for me to feel this way. After four years I have reached a point where everything is a mystery again. I don't have three or four more years of school, I'm done with that. I can't just say, "Well, it's just my freshman year; I have time." Life doesn't have time for me to wait for it to catch up with my laziness. It demands respect and reverence at all times, otherwise we waste our own breath.

That is why I am at the point that I am, because I'm done wasting my breath.

To be more specific, I left behind two very close friends when I left for college. One them is nearly non-existant to me anymore, but the other is a person I consider a brother. He means more to me than most, and he would say the same in return. For over four years now I have had to deal with being away from him - my best friend- and only see him once or twice a year.

In the same fashion, I never see my father. If anyone knows me, they understand how important I consider him and why not seeing his face for long periods of time makes me a bit uneasy. Someone said a few weeks ago that they don't want their parents to die and have their response be, "Man, I wish I had spent more time with them." That is exactly what I would say if he died, and that fact makes my heart stop in place.

Because I left these people behind, I had to create a new life. It had to be an authentic experience filled with vibrant relationships, both romantic and platonic. I discovered some of the most amazing individuals and I will be forever changed because of it. Over time, though, I grew distant from most of them and watched as we drifted apart - people do that in college, I think it is just how the world works. There were a few that I stayed well acquainted with, but none of them really became my time-fillers or best friends.

There was one guy that became very special to me though, and his name is Mike Swanson. Most call him Fish.

He is moving away for reasons that will remain undisclosed, and I don't know if I have ever had so much trouble with remaining unselfish. I hate the way I feel right now; I don't want him to leave even though it not only makes logical sense, but he is fairly okay with it; I would even say he is excited. He gets to live with his dad, be around a new area filled with new people to experience and interact with - which are both good things for him - and he doesn't have to worry about the financial stress that he has dealt with for years. Everything about the trip makes perfect sense, and I should be beaming with excitement for him because of the opportunities ahead.

Then why am I being such a little selfish bitch?

I don't want to lose another friend; I don't want to have phone conversation relationships with people that I normally get to hug; I don't want to have that looming sense of ambiguity in my placement in life everytime I think of where I want to live. I just want all my friends to move next to me damn it.

I know I'm being illogical and a baby, but I can't help it. I lose my friends and family back home, gain a sense of family up here and have to lose one of them too. I suppose it just proves that life can be unforgiving and that it doesn't care who it effects. I just wish I could do something to change the entire situation.

I will be fine and I know he will be able to accomplish great things where he is going. I am happy for him and I am pumped that he is going to be making progress on some things that have complicated his life far too much, I just wish I could be there for him the way I have been the last three years.

Mike I know you're going to read this, and when you do I hope you don't cry because that would make you a little bitch, but I just want to make one statement before I get over all this emotional bullshit: I will buy you groceries no matter where you live, no matter what circumstance I'm in, and will do it without hesitation because, with all of my heart, I love you.

Good luck in everything, know that my door/phone are always available to you.

All of this simply tells me that I need to start finding a sense of self, like I spend too much time worrying about what I affect rather than what affects me. I need to start finding out where I want to end up and what I want to be doing.

Whatever, emotions are annoying.

*Edit* Somewhere in here I misuse the word "effect." I can't find it anymore, but I know it is there. I'm a dork.

Victorious Loss

2009-02-01T21:16:00.000-08:00

Seems the stomach, ruinous space of ruminations,
Carried much to get here.
Activity notwithstanding, movements bellow,
Forging an alliance with regret.
Forge further, swirl sweetly,
Mix the mixture birthing the victor.
The victor emerges,
Coating what it touches,
With a glossy framework; healing flawed surface.
The tear soaked creation,
Sits tightly, movement refused.
Shedding layer by day,
Adding slowly back by night,
Founder of the cure,
My heart fights.
My heart is losing.

Changing

2009-01-30T21:48:00.000-08:00

Most people know what my week has been like up to this point. Safe to say, I'm not sure I remember being this weak. I don't know if I can remember another time in which I felt unable to feel okay. I am functioning; I am surrounded by wonderful friends, I am eating well, I am sleeping well and for the most part I haven't really cried. But I'm not okay.

I'm not sure how it even feels to be okay anymore.

I have this problem I'm dealing with: I dislike who I am right now. I don't have an inch of motivation within my body and I don't feel like anything is changing yet.

Life has always worked a certain way for me. I slide by, doing what I can to simply survive rather than thrive, and I eventually get a chance to run away from the problems that my lack of strength created. This time there is no running. This time my pain has grabbed hold of me so strongly that I can't even breathe without feeling it. I am unable to eat food without swallowing a tiny bit of misery with every bite. All the words that pour out from my lips are heavier than stone.

Tragic stories are told through many types of media. They can be found in cinematic creations, novels, daytime specials with Montel, and dozens of others. Most people enjoy watching them in the various movies that come out. When someone watches one of these - namely, love stories - they are torn away from reality and become elevated into a world that is saturated in perfection. The outcome of these stories can be anything; sad, glorious, uplifting, depressing, or even scary; but no matter what happens, the story concludes and the viewer is left with a sense of closure. When the film cuts off and the reel refuses to represent the finality of the reality that life isn't a movie, they simply come back into their own world and live like none of it ever happened.

I always thought that is what I could do if I ever lost her. I thought the movie would end. I thought the reel would cut off, allowing me to push on to the next one in line.

There is no line right now. There is no me right now. I feel like a shell; a shadow; a mere silhouette on the wall made of tears that is only reflected by the bright fire burning inside of me, scarring and infinite.

I suppose I could use simple, cliche words to explain my emotional state, but they wouldn't be telling the entirety of my truth. It's not that I simply feel ugly - as of right now, I do - I feel more unable to achieve beauty. Does that make sense? It applies to any negative attribution one could pin on someone. I have no sense of progress right now. I have no sense of self-value; I'm missing the essential piece of what makes me work: recognition.

See, it's simple: I don't know how to care about a future that I cannot see happening. My good friend said something once and I considered him insane, "Clay, I don't feel like I have a future. I don't feel like one day, I'll be thirty." Now, the statement itself is fairly normal; it's not like we can all say, "Man, I can't wait til I'm thirty so I can be like *that*" but we do have a general idea that we will exist.

Right now, I can't see past tonight.

I'm not being dramatic. I literally have no foresight when it comes to my future. Imagine you're setting up a series of dominoes. You have about one hundred of them, all different in nature because of their unique design: each one has a numeric value, rather than dots. You set them up in a way that if one of them topple, the others will soon follow. As they fall over, you notice that there is one missing, sitting right off to the side of the rest. Right now, that domino is me. I have no movement based on the movements around me. I am unaffected by my nature that is inherently similar to yours and the person next to you. I am standing, alone, surrounded by others just like me, unwilling to move.

People always say, "Ask for help when you need it." I don't know what any of you can do for me. I don't think anyone can do a thing. But this is my request: just pray for me. You cannot make me better. You cannot make this go away. You cannot make my day brighter. You cannot fix me, and you cannot help weaken the pain. You can simply remind me that I have things to work for. Just help me remember that I do exist, and that existence is worth existing.

I'm not dying. I'm not going to fade away just because I'm going through pain. If anything, I might become stronger. It will just take some time.

Right now I might feel nothing, but soon I will be reformed. To all those concerned, I love you. To all those not, I love you too. To those that have hurt me, I love you. To those I have hurt, I love you.

I'll be changing.

For Bev

2009-01-24T09:13:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine is battling cancer at the moment, and it has really shaken me up lately. It brings me down to a level at which I dislike hovering, and I find the only remedy is to write out how I feel. Rather than that, I came up with a poem to help her see differently - should she even need to. I don't know if I'll give it to her since she specifically stated she wants no pity or sadness when dealing with everything. While I did make the poem uplifting, I'm not sure if tshe would even want it since it did originate from feelings of sadness; it might do the opposite of what I'm wanting.

In any case, here it is. This is easily the shortest poem I've ever written, and I'm fairly unimpressed with it's layout. I do love the simplicity of my statements though - they are both powerful and full. I really hope she would like it, even if she never reads the words.

Muscular reachings move my sight slightly higher,
Witnessing the dim Grey Sky surround us.
I've not been fooled;
For my weakness is strong enough to pierce
Through the veil and focus on the depth.
Surrounding me newly in a coat made of blue,
Silver and white.
Surface fights me, yet deepness calls louder,
Bringing me closer to home.

Life

2009-01-03T21:37:00.001-08:00

Lately I have done next to nothing with my free time, including creative output. I haven't really extended my efforts to do anything worthwhile. This isn't to assume that I've "wasted" my time, it's just to determine that I feel a bit numb with emptiness.

There was a period of time where I filled in any blank moment with a book or a poem, but I have suddenly filled those voids with various videogames and movies. This might stem from a complex I have of living life after graduation -- which means I know my time for "fun" is coming to a close as I see my responsibilities coming into clear view. I have to start paying off loans, figuring out where I want to live, who I want to work for, what sort of work I want in the first place, and how to make all of it come together without pulling my hair out.

I suppose the greatest thing I've learned out of all my empty experiences the last couple of months is that life is very real. Sometimes I find myself slipping into the realm of fantasy that portrays my future as nothing more than cereal and electronic toys. This fantasy is immediately followed by a rich slap in the face, something like an energy bill or my tuition statement. I get brought back down to the reality of things: Life requires more than attention, it requires action coupled with integrity when reacting to the attention. I don't feel like I've been pro actively working toward success, I've more waited on things to happen correctly. I want to start changing this approach of mine.

The problem within my newfound equation for success is the obvious recognition of flaw. I'm in no position to understand where I want to live, what I want to do and who I want to do it with. I'm a twenty-two year old man that is about to graduate college with a confusing, lackluster degree and next to no options as to how I can apply it to a career path. I have no financial foundation, would not be able to live on my own if I wanted to, and I exist during the worst economic struggle the United States has seen in the last eighty years. That, my friends, is intimidating.

I suppose it all boils down to what my father says: "Just take it one step at a time." Powerful words, sure, but no matter what I'm told, I need to change my mindset before anything else. The only person who can do that, however, is me.

I'm not sure why I'm writing this on here. I'm sure that anyone who was visiting a couple months ago stopped, due to my lack active updating; and those that will read it will most likely be my father and a couple of friends who already know all of this. Sometimes I suppose it helps to put it out into a space where its vulnerable, where people can step in and react rather than never knowing anything was wrong. I guess it feels nice to just put it on paper, or computer screen, and know I let it off my chest.

I'll be fine I'm sure, I just need to know what my first step is. That way, I can take it and possibly find out what my second one is. Hopefully that starts a chain reaction, resulting in a successful life for me. Let's just hope that first step appears soon.

I think its graduation.

10 Things

2008-11-14T19:26:00.000-08:00

I haven't updated in a little bit, so I decided to throw this together.

I work at Blockbuster, as I have mentioned, and over the last year I have come up with a few things that could help people when shopping at our store. This list is actually more for the people working there, and how you could avoid being an ass. This is my "10 Things You Shouldn't Do When Renting From Blockbuster."

Do Not...

10. Be Lazy

- This one is huge for me. Our store is very simple; movies are organized on the wall in alphabetical order. If a movie is more than 12 months old, it is in the center of the store. The center of the store is organized by genre (and yes, Die Hard is in Action...) and each genre is also alphabetized.

If you make an honest effort to find the movie you're looking for but still fail to locate it, fine, I'll help you. But if you just walk in and ask me this question, "Where would I find Kung Fu Panda?" don't be surprised if my response is, "Oh, over by the huge Kung Fu Panda display. Ya know, by the "K" movies on the wall...between "J" and "L." Or you could just look for yourself."

9. Fail to Have Even a Slight Understanding of the Title You're Looking For.

- There was a customer that asked Mike, my manager and friend, "Where is the movie Ahnce?" Now I typed "Ahnce" because it is how they said the title, AH-NCE. The movie they were looking for was "Once." Do everything in your power to never become that person.

8. Blame Me For Your Stupidity

- "How does your rental policy work?" I explain this so many times, and in people's defense it is an honest question. But once I explain this, why must people rebuttal with, "Wait, a "re-stocking fee?" So it is a late fee? I don't get it." Okay fine, let me explain it in baby terms: Return your movie when it is due.

7. Blame Me For Prices

- "Why are your movies five dollars?" Because I hate you.

6. Blame Me For Our Drink Selection

- "Why don't you have Livewire?" GREAT question.

5. Ask if You Can Have Backercards

- At Blockbuster we have what we call backercards. These serve as a replacement for movies once they get checked out, so we know where they go if we run out of copies. These aren't free for giveaway then, and no you can't have any. I had this kid walk up with one and when I asked why he had it he said, "Wait I can't have this?" Wow.

4. Fail to Meet the Cashier Halfway With items

- Let me go into detail here. When the cashier is waiting in front of a computer for your items, there are certain things they expect. We have a very large amount of objects that separate us from you, and because of this we need you to adhere to a few rules.

If you have movies, do not lift them up and move them forward an inch, forcing us to reach over and grab them from you like its a pot of gold that we need to work for. Just meet us halfway; make it easy for both you and the cashier to complete the transaction.

3. Forget about a Coupon Or Movie Until After We Have Scanned Everything

- Fewer things piss me off than when this happens. If you have a coupon, have it with you when you hand me the movies. Don't wait for me to scan everything and then say,

You: Oh, I have this coupon here!

Me: Then shove it, because we're done here.

The problem is this: I have to credit money back to your account when I already scan stuff. This results in me having to type up a reason on the computer, stating why I felt it necessary to give you five dollars back.

It is even worse when people have pop or candy but never hand it to me. Considering I never adopted the ability to see through things, I don't notice it when items are on the other side of the counter covered by a computer, gift cards, a credit card swiper machine and your ugly face. Hand us all of your items when you first get to the counter! Also, apply rule #4 here as well... don't make us reach for pops and candy... hand it to us.

2. Poke the Credit Machine With Anything Other Than the Provided Pen...

- When you swipe your credit card, you will be prompted with a few questions. These are simple:

Machine: Credit or Debit?

You Choose: Credit (even if you have debit, choose this because it doesn't matter)

Machine: Amount Okay?

You Choose: Yes

Answer this mini-quiz and you will be rewarded with whatever you wanted in the store. When you have to choose the answers to these questions, do not use the following methods: Pressing the options with the corner of your credit card.... it won't register; also, don't point with your finger, it is unsanitary and drives me insane. Just use the freakin pen that exists for the exact purpose of choosing these things.

1. Stare At Me When I Greet You As You Enter the Store

- At Blockbuster I am forced to say "Hello!" to every single person that walks into the store. At times, the people that enter the store don't say "Hi" back. This bothers me because it doesn't take a lot of effort and makes me feel like a jackass. The worst part, however, is when someone glares at me as I greet them. Am I an alien species to you? Do you not understand the basic logistics of a greeting? It takes one simple command, you don't even have to be sincere. Just be polite enough to give us something back.

Well there ya go, a list to help you on your simple rental adventure. I have plenty more complaints, so if people respond to this well then I'll come up with another list. Have a good day and try to avoid being a jackass.

Enlightenment.

2008-10-06T21:11:00.000-07:00

I don't like Corporate Church; it seems more like a business than a community based on love and accountability.

Someone told me recently that he was more honest and outgoing during his Alcoholics Anonymous meetings than he had ever been during Church. This struck me as incredibly odd at first, but after a moment of thought, it made sense.

I decided, in all my wonderful haste to conclude very dense topics, that Church was fake. It was a place that people went for the comfort of having a place to call "Sanctuary." A place that when they enter, a divinity resides over them that makes all of their problems go away in an instant.

I decided that the people who went to Church for this one and only attribute were assholes, and moved on with my day.

A few weeks later I got a menial job offer at a local church. They needed a section tenor leader and were going to pay pretty well for the position, demanding only three hours throughout the entire week. I started two weeks ago and have been changed in some very important ways.

When I first entered the room full of forty-plus singers, I thought to myself, "Damn it. What did I get myself into? These people look infuriatingly old. *Sigh* Whatever, it's only an hour and a half Clay, only an hour an..." My thoughts were cut off by a swarm of high pitched "Hello!" sounds from Grandma A and B, Great Grandpa C and his son that was still old enough to be my grandpa. In the midst of me deciding whether or not killing myself was a viable option, I actually came to my senses when I noticed something: These people wanted to be here.

Call me crazy, but I didn't ever think about things like that. Church has always been a burden for everyone I talk to. When you ask, "What's up tonight?" people will answer, "Church..." This always made me laugh inside, wishing I could scream, "I don't go, bitches!"

But these people that welcomed me into their shitty choir were pumped as hell to sing. This reduced my apprehension and I actually learned more in that hour and a half than I could have ever imagined. I will never forget my initial reaction when I looked down and saw the next song on our list, "Thy Word" by Michael W. Smith.

When all the older women in the choir saw this, they obviously had orgasmic reactions to the very thought of Michael. I, however, imagined shoving a pencil through his throat so he wouldn't be able to plague my ears any longer.

I hate this song people, I mean I really hate it. If I were allowed to burn and destroy all traces of any song that ever existed, I would embrace Sonseed(Look at 1:10, I almost pissed when I saw her) and kill this one instead. When we started singing it, however, I actually grew up a little bit. The people around me weren't pumped because Michael wrote this song, they were pumped because of what the song had to say.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.

It is a shame that those words hold a cliche feeling for most people. Those words are powerful as hell when you apply them to your life, and that is exactly what the people sitting around me were doing. It was sincerely one of the most beautiful songs I had ever heard to this day, and I doubt many others will top it.

Passion that can be found and embraced through a song that I have hated my entire life is an amazing thing. I just never took the time to look past my childish hatred of such a beautiful idea. This is how I feel about Church now.

While I don't exactly like the idea of Corporate Church, there can be enough beauty in its people that make it worthwhile. It just goes back to the idea of being there for God and not for yourself.

I have concluded that I'll never be satisfied when it comes to Church because I'll never fully know how I feel about it. I know that as of today, I have a wonderful group of oldies that love God and want me to sing about it with them every Sunday. I'm going to enjoy this a lot.

I've already learned more than I thought possible.

Extrapolation.

2008-10-05T20:43:00.000-07:00

There are moments in a persons life that alter the way they perceive things for the rest of time, should they allow it. I have been enlightened tonight and have overcome my silly conjecture when dealing with the voting of a president.

I was sitting in my room four years ago while watching the 2004 United States Presidential Election, and when it ended I was fuming. George W. Bush, whom I have no opinion about, won the seat in office without the support of the general population victory.

This was bullshit to me.

We live in a country that speaks of freedom and power through actions and beliefs, yet a man can defy the majority of the very people that he is representing by becoming their president. This is still a ludicrous idea to me, and it still gets me going. Don't get me wrong, republican fanboys, because I could care less about George W. being in office instead of Kerry or Gore; thus far in my life I have not witnessed a worthy person to take up the challenge of President. I am in no way judging this in an elitist fashion, I simply don't know how to merit the position of Presidency to a person I only know through media exposure; I don't feel as if I can represent an opinion without the bias of what I've been told by others. Due to this, then, anyone can take up office and have a fair shot at being successful. This rarely happens, considering it is an attempt to appease over three hundred million people -- an impossible task to say the least. It all ends up resulting in people being annoyed with the current office position, needing reconciliation with political balance, and yearning for an election. That is when my conjecture occurred, up until today.

I had a conversation with one of the most well-spoken individuals I know. He enjoys intellectual stimulation far more than any female anatomical offering, and truly enjoys enlightenment. This means two things: We are great friends, and we clash quite often. Nine times out of then, the clashing is in good taste and is handled with respect. If anyone knows me well, however, it is easy to understand how the discussions can quickly turn into aggravating arguments.

Tonight we had a conversation that started out light, but got heavier by the second. Here is my best reiteration I can come up with:

Me: Have you seen that new satirical video that Jessica Alba made? She is trying to provoke election awareness, encouraging people to vote.
Mike: Yeah, it's funny.
Me: I don't know why they are trying so hard, voting is a waste anyway. It's not like your vote matters, it's all determined by the electoral college.
Mike: That's...wow that's an ignorant statement.
Me: Four years ago, our President was elected by the EC when the general public voted against him. Tell me how anyone's vote counted that year?

That is a shortened version of what happened, and we both got pretty annoyed. In retrospect, I agree with both of us. I was so pissed off about the system failing one time in my entire life that I discarded it as useless.

This is ignorance.

The system works for the most part because of how the electoral college functions. Out of forty-four (lol @ me if that number is wrong) elections, only four of them have had the outcome of the EC disagreeing with the general population. That's a low number, and one that shouldn't be a determining factor of whether or not the system is broken.

I honestly think that had I not taken part in the conversation tonight, I might have held the grudge against our government my entire life. This weirds me out in more ways than one.

What if I have other grudges I need to just let go? Destroy?

It's a question I'll be asking from now on. I will try to make my stance be a bit less abrasive and firm, and allow for change and growth instead. If I want to study philosophy, I better start on that one right away.

Interesting how just a few minutes of arguing can enlighten you in ways you never imagined.

I love thinking.

Me = Funny

2008-10-04T15:17:00.000-07:00

I don't know if anybody that comes here (if anyone even does) has noticed the very Emo-tastic headline I have written for my blog, but I just read it and man do I sound like a bitch.

I figured I could take a moment to possibly refine the headline in a way that makes it more enlightening than depressing.

I have this theoretical explanation of how reflection works. I have recently become a bit obsessed with the idea, which has resulted in me writing many poems and a song stemming from it. The idea is simple: When you look into a mirror, do you see reflection or defiance?

It sounds silly on paper, I understand that, but the weight of the question holds many challenges. People tend to see what they are only willing to see, and a mirror is a perfect illustration of that idea. A mirror doesn't show anything except for a representation of how the world sees you, in a minimalistic way. The mirror doesn't reproduce your inner thoughts, your personality, your hatred or anger, your love or compassion. It simply lets you know what you, as a being of existence, look like.

At this point some people might say, "Well no shit Clay," but I don't think everyone really views it as such. For example: When you see yourself in a mirror you will most likely do one of two things: Be happy about what you see or critique what you see. If you notice a hair out of place or a pimple hindering the smooth nature of your skin, you may start to dislike yourself for it. You may even notice the ten pounds you've gained in the past month or two. Perhaps you start making a mental checklist of your inadequacies that need to change in order for you to be happy with yourself.

If you have never done this then go throw a "You!" party, because you're an exception. It is natural for us to desire something better for ourselves. In our society today where the media portrays beauty as something of a necessity, it can make the average person feel far more than just inferior, it can make them feel somewhat vacuous. If this is what you're seeing when you look in the mirror, I call it Defiance, not Reflection.

I call it this because of what the term means: "To offer resistance." You're resisting who you are, refusing to accept it without altering and perfecting its being. Nothing is satisfying as long as there is more to change, more to fix, more to advance. If this is what you do everyday, stop. Don't consistently look for ways to improve your image, consistently look for ways to love what your image can say to others; I know plenty of overweight people that carry themselves in a very powerful manner, you don't need to be skinny to have a demanding presence.

It all comes down to the idea of Reflection or Defiance then. When you look into a mirror, what do you see?

"A mirror reflects the physical appearance as we appear to the world. Break that mirror into pieces, hold it up and look at yourself. A little more accurate, isn't it? That's how I feel anyway."

That is my headline, and it portrays what this blog has been saying. A broken mirror will show an imperfect you, someone that comes with all sorts of scars and baggage. But this reflection is much more accurate than the one that you see from a perfectly flat representation.

My Clothing Style (This is Going to Be Good)

2008-10-04T14:31:00.000-07:00

I realized something yesterday: I'm the laziest person I have ever known when it comes to clothing. I have added to my wardrobe maybe a dozen items in almost four years. This stems from the fact that I don't exactly shop for clothes. I fail to shop out of two basic necessities: I don't have the money to spare, and any money I could spare is always -- always, people -- spent wisely on a video game. This results in me relying on various circumstances to increase the growth of my clothing options: Free t-shirt giveaways, Salvation Army $1 sales, and charitable girlfriends. This has gotten me pretty far, surprisingly enough, but only because I have been problem free when discussing the following topic: Fatness.

I am fatter now than I've ever been before. I weigh over 180. This scares the shit out of me, considering I normally hover around the 170 range. The problematic implications of said weight gain directly affect what I can and cannot wear; I am almost out of jeans because of this. What should I do?

Lose weight, obviously. But the residing problem isn't inherently existing in my weight. You see, somewhere along the line when God was shaping my person, he decided to royally screw with my existence by giving me nipples that protrude through the thickest of clothing. They cannot be missed when talking to me, so let me get this out of the way.

*Pauses for a moment while you stare in awe*

Okay, now that your disgusting nipple-lust has been fulfilled, what does this mean? It means I can't shop at places like Hollister, Abercrombie, American Eagle, Express, Banana Republic, or any other inherently narcissistic establishment like that. I have to settle for button up shirts that are just a tad big on me, to make room for my nipples. Awesome, this leaves t-shirts out of the question. Great, this means "wife beater" translates into "You're such a little bitch dude, look at those." Fantastic, this means swimming is more of a convention for those around me, as they just glare at the phenomenon in front of them.

But this all ends up being fine when I just simply come to the only conclusion that matters: Who gives a shit?

I have huge nipples, so what. Because of this recent enlightenment, I have been wearing nothing but t shirts lately. I fail to adhere to the rules my nipples try to enforce, and this results in me becoming even lazier. Not only do I have an excuse to not buy expensive clothing, I have decided that simple, cheap clothing will do just fine. I take this a step further by refining the definition of "cheap" and turning it into "free."

Maybe I can explain in a more concise manner with the following statement: If you're unable to look flattering in any type of clothing, why spend money on anything other than what you need?

Yeah, I don't either.

But I have come to a conclusion that forces me to change my lazy ways.

I need some more clothes.

I hate shopping though; I just don't like putting stuff on and putting it back and then walking across the store to find something else to try on that I'm only going to put back and follow it up with a trip to another store two miles away just to grab something that I try on just to then put it...see? It sucks doesn't it? Even reading about this garbage makes you want to scream.

I suppose I will need to suck it up though. I really need clothes badly. If you have any suggestions, throw them out because I'll eat em up. I'm no fashion designer, but I can listen to people talk about fashion (that statement is a complete fabrication and in no way represents any sort of attribute that can be applied to my person. I don't know why this blog even exists and why you're reading it. lol @ you).

Three Minutes

2008-09-14T19:50:00.000-07:00

Have you ever walked into a store and gotten into the checkout lane, readied your credit card or cash, and politely said hello to the cashier who simply responded with a slight glare, which only functions as a means to let you know you've been recognized?

I hate that.

When this first started happening to me, when I was very young, I decided to label these people as "dicks." It was easy to do considering the applicable nature of the statement in coordination with my situation; these people were rude for no reason. This realization stayed the same until today. I discovered something: I am in no position to judge a person if I've only known them for three minutes.

I came to this conclusion because of what happened to me at work tonight. I work at Blockbuster, which gives me the incredible opportunity to deal with all sorts of interesting individuals. Because of this incredible opportunity, I sometimes get an absolute waste of life standing in front of me, arguing about the dollar amount on their account that only exists because they lack the ability to understand what a fucking "due date" means. Tonight was one of those nights. This irritating mixture of skin, puss, and evil -- a stupid, arrogant lady -- came in tonight and decided to piss me off. She was holding eight movies when she approached the counter and said to me the following statement: "I only want one of these." (Let me give you a tip about shopping at Blockbuster: don't be a dick and do things like that. If you decide against a movie, put it back. The store is not that big, and, if it is, God forbid you walk an extra two minutes to put a DVD back on the shelf. Speaking of which, put the movies back where they belong. If you fail to adhere to these overly simplistic requirements of avoiding Dickland then shame on you.) I simply took her one choice, which was Prom Night instead of both Wayne's World and Fight Club, just to name a couple. I instantly hated this woman when she asked the next question:

"Why are your movies 4.99? That's ridiculous."

"Well ma'am, before work every day, me and my colleagues get to choose how much the movies are. Too bad you missed ten dollar movie day, it sounds like it would have been right up your ass...I mean alley. "

I don't make the prices of things, I get paid almost minimum wage to scan things, alphabetize things, and put things away. I deal with "things" people, things that are as useless as this woman was to me. I tried to explain this to her in a very nice way, which was incredibly difficult, and she wasn't having it:

"Well, I'm not paying 4.99 for a movie."

Okay, bye? What does she hope to prove by saying this? It affects me in no way, other than the fact that I have now created a blog in which she has become a central part. She eventually left with three movies, which is awesome considering I got to take fifteen dollars from her, making her a victim of today's marketing genius (it is stupid that movies are five dollars).

Anyway, the next part of the story is what I'm getting at. I was now pissed off and it was showing through my motions; I was immaturely placing things in a violent way, you know what I mean; when you kind of throw your shirt in the laundry out of frustration rather than placing it softly. This was me with DVD cases. Then a customer came up to the counter. I didn't care about their existence at all, they were empty vessels of consumer bullshit and I wanted them to leave. The transaction was smooth though, and they were out of there in about two minutes.

I then stopped and realized I was that person I described at the beginning of this blog. I was a "dick" all because that stupid woman pissed me off.

The message is simple: don't judge someone you don't even know, you never know what they could have gone through to become the way they are. This especially stands true when you are dealing with cashiers. Sometimes we have a bad moment, and you get caught in the middle of the anger-storm.

Three minutes isn't enough time to decide who a person is. So don't try to judge, just hand them your money, receive your reward and walk out the door.

That sentence in no way promotes the profession of prostitution.

( ^ Greatest ending to a blog I've ever witnessed)

Media

2008-09-10T14:03:00.000-07:00

Today I feel sick. When I feel this way I do the following: sit, eat, and watch television. Other than on these days, television is something that I avoid. I hate being exposed to media on television. Yes I know I'm exposed to the media like 200% of my day or some stupid statistic like that, but I think broad casted shows are the worst. Today is the first day I have watched television, outside of the exception that includes That 70' Show and Family guy, in probably three years. This is not an exaggeration.

I had no clue things had gotten this bad.

First I tuned into a show that I use to be very familiar with, Total Request Live. The variety of music was astounding; the show consisted of groups that portrayed beauty as a practical requirement. I was watching a battle between the ugly and the beautiful, where the beautiful always won. Every song was speaking about affluence and superiority over something else. I felt inadequate just sitting there watching this nonsense, and I'm not poor or ugly (I'm humble by the way). It disgusted me, but I kept watching out of curiosity. The show that came on after TRL absolutely blew my mind. Apparently it is popular among some demographics today, all of which I would love to destroy, and I consistently wondered the entire time if MTV was serious. I see now that this question is ludicrous; MTV is the most lucrative television network because it constantly hones it's focus on the groups that need something to consume, high schoolers. This holds true within the show "Parental Control." Let me give you a synopsis of this show. hoping with all my soul that you aren't instantly familiar with it. At the beginning of the show, a couple is introduced. One of these two people have parents that are unhappy because of who they are dating. The show then proceeds to introduce the parents, who in turn explain why they hate the person their child is dating. The show provides for them an opportunity to quell this terrible relationship their child is in; they will let the parents pick two people for their child to go on a date with. Once the dates are finished, the child will then decide whether they will stay in their relationship, or end it and be with one of the people their parents like.

Shoot me.

This show raised so many flags for me, I almost screamed. First of all, the entire show is scripted. I mean right down to the lines they speak when on the actual date. This whole scripted problem becomes overly apparent when the parents speak. I came to two conclusions about who the parents actually were: teenagers in fat suits trying to look old while consistently sounding like jackasses, or aliens.

There is no way these people are real. If I were a father, I wouldn't decide to whore my daughter out for a day so I could be satisfied about her relationship, and I wouldn't say the following line if I witnessed a man grabbing her ass, "See? He likes her junk in dat trunk!" What the hell?

Even worse than that is the fact that the boyfriend says things to the parents that are borderline prison-worthy. One of the people were talking to their significant other's parents and said this, "I'll f*** you up. Just shut up, damn you f***in chubby b****." Charming, definitely something I would love to have my teenager exposed to.

Let me get this straight: anyone on earth with cable can turn this on, it appeals to a demographic that isn't fully developed, the show entices and teases about sexual occurrences that are supported by parents, and the worth of a relationship can be deciphered by going on two dates, with two different people, in an hour, that involve ass-grabbing and scripted jokes?

I hate the media.

If I was fourteen and I watched this, I would feel like one day I would become bad ass, "Man, I can't wait to be buff like that and sleep with bitches." Some might say I'm being dramatic, but I'm not. I remember high school, I remember how influential everything was. Why do you think teens in my school got pregnant? Why do you think drugs were always a problem, coupled with violence, depression, and notoriety by way of sports integrity? If you could throw a football, you win. If you could drop that three pointer four out of ten tries, you're the victor. Now if you can find a women that replaces your current one, drop her like she's old news. It's all a part of this superiority complex we have as citizens; if we aren't winning then we have to be losing, and everyone who loses is basically a nobody. I sincerely blame this, at this in some way, on the negative media today.

I hate this; why can't we have positive media? Why does everything revolve around sexual enticement and marketed wealth? The media makes you feel poor, unloved, inferior, weak, empty, incomplete, and everything in between. I see no positive media, not even in commercials that try to send a positive message or work for a positive outcome. Take the Truth commercials for example, what are they proving? I'm pretty sure that everyone knows about Tobacco at this point; people with holes in theirs necks, talking likes machines, aren't going to stop your daddy from smoking a pack a day. It'll be stopped when your father says, "I'm done." Stop wasting hundreds of thousands of dollars on commercials that tell the same recycled tale when you could be feeding the hungry, funding missionary work, or even building an extra school in an area that needs one. I'm just sick of the negativity.

I guess it all comes down to that American Dream idea. My friend came up to me the other day and said this,

"I just saw Fifty Cents' movie, "Get Rich or Die Tryin" and it just made me think about America's mindset. People don't want a career, they want that one big break so they don't have to worry about working or anything else. It's messed up."

It is messed up, but in a lot of cases it is true. We are surrounded by the idea of being the strongest. If you're poor, get rich. If you're rich, get richer. We've all heard this, we all realize that it is the way things are. This doesn't mean that I have to accept it though, and I won't. I hate this mindset, I hate this set of ideals. But I suppose it all fits into the same big, conglomerate mess of a societal puzzle; America is a diverse place, but it amazes me how a diverse place can be so single-minded.

I suppose, then, the media has to be successful. It can only be successful by portraying what sells. The things that sell are determined by the people, who are inherently affected by this media. This means the media sets the tone, hoping that the people never end up biting the hand that feeds them. I'm not biting, I'm shooting. I'm bursting at the seems and sending it to hell.

I'll always be influenced by the media, but I can mediate the exposure. I hope you can too.

I hate the media.