Acrylic Freedom

The left side of the right way of looking at things

2012-02-03T21:55:00.000-08:00

Light, when poised correctly, can cause your shadow to split in many different directions

Many times I fell under one such shadow

and in your arms

I was hoisted up

It would be impossible to do that now

The light would not cooperate

and I am much larger than the child who passed through your field of flowers

The sunflowers

They were like giant alien trees to me

and they crowded together in that little back yard of that apartment

where you lived

Just a few streets over

I could probably hear your voice if you called out

sound travels, it requires no pass

and now I'm thinking, loudly, about your laughter

It is short and punctual

much like many stout bullets out of a small stubby gun

I imagine they ricochet. millions of them by now

all around the globe

one could be passing me now

right between the eyes

Boy, that's swell

I won't pretend to be wiser now that the youth has worn off

despite signs of aging and our difference in height

in comparison to how the sun must travel across our backs

to sling it's ware of shadows

I hold sincere admiration for the man, who you are

I say that to say this

I will be your right arm

and in the light of the sun

I'm happy to stand

and find you shade

even if it's my shadow

Unk

2011-12-23T21:41:00.000-08:00

I dreamed all the big words
filled with expectation
which I kept in a box
had with childish rapscallionishness
found a way past the simple knots
that left the boxes opening
closed

2011-12-04T19:57:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I come up for air.

2011-12-02T00:33:00.001-08:00

"The best jewels in this life are the ones God made as living stones."

"A fish in a fish bowl can only swim in circles. If you put that fish into the ocean there is a whole world they can explore."

People, I find, can often surprise you. And when we aren't surprised we may be amazed. :)

2011-11-26T14:52:00.001-08:00

I survived Thanksgiving. Overall it was a good day. Spending time with my mom, my brother George, and Ash his Fiance was good. We played dominoes (I like the clatter of the dominoes as they are mixed) and scrabble. Then the lovebirds left and me and mom have been hanging out/being lazy/eating turkey and all the fixings.

Today the coffeemaker broke. We've only owned it for about a month. It did brew coffee today but by the time I got to it the coffee was cold. I went outside to pick on the guitar I bought for my birthday. We have an enclosed front porch with huge windows. Usually one of my days off I'll sit out there drinking hot coffee and picking at the guitar, sometimes thinking of lyrics to go along with the aimless tune. I have my feet propped up on the window sill and the sun filters in. Usually I feel like it has slowed going through the glass and when it hits me I imagine it splashes off my body like water. And the sounds it makes, are the same as my guitar strings vibrations.

Warm echoing sounds.

There's a couple of chairs out on the porch. I look forward to the day when I'll have company out there. It would be fun to have an accompanying instrument. Laughter included.

We just keep plugging away at it. Letting our skin brown in the sunlight and our eyes glimmer in the moons glow.

P.S. Thanks Maria for checking in with me, you are a good friend.

2011-11-18T20:50:00.001-08:00

I don't think I have ever had as difficult of a time as I have these last two years writing. A couple of months ago I promised myself I would write something new every day even if it was just a line or two. I haven't been able to, often I can't even bring myself to update my status on the social network I subscribe to.

I play this online game called League of Legends. Honestly I've sort of buried myself in it for the last year. Even that game has a status message you can update, I think it's been a month since I've updated that. It reads, "More NPC than hero." I think I've played it mainly for the human interaction. It feels amazing to have a group of people work together and accomplish something. It's a type of instant gratification, but after a while you start wanting something more. You want those moments of wining to repeat, someone to whom you can relate moments of triumph or bouts of disappointment.

But it's the Internet. And you rarely meet someone randomly that you can really talk to and generally they are so far away in physical proximity that even if you hit it off you just have a digital pen pal. Not to trivialize such relationships, in my existence they have saved me, I think, more than a few times (and I have been very fortunate yo develop some real friendships this way). But I want touch, connection, breath, a look of incomprehension, disapproval, laughter, genuine bewilderment, amazement. I want to feel connected.

I've been so absorbed in my own desires that I feel wound up in selfishness. I think it's the onslaught of survival. The primal bearing of teeth.

I'm not really very good at anything. Even when I was most practiced my writing was subpar. Maybe I am being harsh... par. So yes, I feel a little ashamed of spending my time playing video games instead of making those human connections I talk up so much. I can't recall the last time I visited a church. One of my coworkers has invited me to visit the church he attends- a couple of times. Maybe I'll check it out.

It is now officially more cold than I would like. This means no more walks in the city until spring.

I've accepted the fact that I probably wont be driving in any regular intervals. Admitting this to others is always embarrassing. They always think it can be fixed with practice. Well, I want to say, picture the human you love most in life. Now picture me wrecking them. Do you want me to practice now?

Probably not.

Yea me either.

It's really frustrating. I'll see a movie where this guy is all excited to pick up the girl of his dreams and they are riding off free. That wont be me. I'll love that scene. I want to be that guy. I want to chase after the girl. Steal her away. Drive into the sunset. And I'll be a little heartbroken when I think, "Yea and she will want it too."

Sorry reader. I've prided myself in making content for you to feel brighter, happier, and more alive.
I ain't got it right now. I can't promise that I'll be returning to that tune either. I understand if you need to pick up and find a new place.

I was watching a movie with my mom just before deciding to write this blog. It got to depressing and halfway through I got up and picked up my brothers laptop. I just don't have the fortitude for it. I picture myself as the cat licking a wounded paw. Meow. I'm allergic to animals, so in my imagination I will be allergic to myself, I mean, I am a cat after all. Aachoo.

So, before my dad passed he watched a movie that he told me I should watch. I tried to find it tonight but I couldn't. It's about a family of mexicans who become natives of the USA. It follows three generations of their family. My dad, George, seemed to really like it. I was thinking in some nearsighted blurry eyed desperation that if I watched it maybe I could get some closure. It's one of the last things I can remember us having a real conversation about. I didn't follow up on it. I like to be in a certain frame of mind to watch that kind of movie. Watch a movie my dad loved. Try to feel what he felt. I don't think that would really be closure. I'm mad I can't find it. I don't know what to do.

Pretty much about anything. He was really good at a lot of things, among them, he was really good at helping me straighten up my very cluttered thinking and making me feel like a really ok guy. There is just something about someone you look up to telling you they are very proud of you. I take it back.

I am good at something.

I'm good at being a good son. He told me so often, and usually with a hug. "My good son, my good boy, my cookaloo, my buddy, you love your crazy dad don't you, boy, you are funny."

So for thanksgiving I guess I'm thankful for all the years I had you dad, how you taught me being tough doesn't mean you can't be full of love. You're a good man George Debelis and heaven is a richer place with you there.

Love ya,

Derrek

2011-10-06T10:18:00.000-07:00

The private conspiracy of my heart has many soldiers,
and few victims,
often it is just myself,
and every battle
is just a prelude to retreat.

2011-09-30T20:33:00.000-07:00

I agreed to listen
to a sudden addition;
the percussion of rattling rain.

IMPULSE PURCHASE

2011-09-25T22:37:00.000-07:00

Back in July I bought a guitar. It was a birthday present to myself. It wasn't planned, I impulsed myself into buying it.

I live in New Hampshire, the weather here is stunningly wonderful during the spring and summer months. You can walk barefoot in the grass (I do often) and there is usually a nice cool breeze to stymie most discomfort. One of these wonderful days I was walking down the street and saw a young guy playing a guitar and it planted the mental time bomb in my head.

Couple of weeks later I am sitting on the swing in my shared yard, it even has an overhead shading fabric, and lazily thought that the only thing that could make the whole experience better would be having a guitar I could pick away at. Next thing you know I was calling my mother to pick me up. I had walked downtown and with some extra cash in my account I bought a cheap guitar and a stand to sit it on.

Now I should confess I don't really know how to play a guitar. Honestly if I had to choose my instrument of choice it would an upright piano. I've at least had some training in how to play a piano. I know a few chords and I'm not really that good with getting the 'right' kind of sound out of it but its nice that I can just pick it up, tune it, and pick away at it for an hour or so.

I'm not really an impulse buyer so when I see it sitting in my room I'm still confused as to how it followed me home. It makes me wonder what other impulses lie just beneath the surface, it's frighteningly humorous to think what a full blown midlife crisis might invoke.

In college a lot of my close friends were self made musicians. You couldn't help but pick up a little musical experience when almost every visitor carried a guitar in the door of your house. Maybe this is a ploy to tap back into those roots? Whatever it is I am glad I did it. It also reminds me that we never really know who we are influencing in a good way when we pursue openly the things we love.

I would like to be a bucket filled with goodness and be so full of goodness that it spills out and makes waves. Waves crash and roar. They spread out and coast over the land. They make a translucent mirror. They make room. They rise with the tide. They all come from someplace, in my case I'd like for them to come from someplace good.

Receptive Deception

2011-04-24T21:22:00.000-07:00

I quit writing in my personal journal. It's probably been a year or so since I wrote an entry. I don't have a very good sense of recall when it comes to past experiences. Mostly that suits me fine.

There was a point in my career, the career of living that is, where I wanted to remember all the apt keen details of life. To some extent it keeps you honest, in the same light maybe it ties you down to who you were.

If I cut the ties of identity and faced the Derrek that resides 10 years ago we would be completely different people. We might even argue over some of what I would consider base principals of living. Those fundamental truths that govern our decision making. Honestly I'm not really sure what to make of it.

That thought in itself isn't really that disturbing. Many people have such thoughts. Where I come into conflict is instead of facing myself I, hypotheticaly, face my friends from Louisiana. These are the people I would consider integral to my current identity. We have been apart in both proximity and in time. I've changed. They have changed. If we were locked up in a room with each other for a week would we still get along? I don't know. There is nothing in this world that I value above my friendship, yet through the natural course of events I have neglected those ties.

We have by the very nature of our relationships a base denominator of belief in Jesus- the supernatural phenomenon that is embraced as truth as being both God and man that lived through supernatural conception and died a martyr without any fault of his own but metaphorically and in reality bore the sins of all the world at one point in time. He then, after dieing, got back up and let everyone know life was in fact going to be ok. Don't panic.

I realize that in itself makes me sound- in a society of reason- like someone who has lost grasp on the tangible reality of how our world fundamentally works. Given. Ok, I sound crazy. I have no "reason" to believe what I do, I just do. I also understand there are many other people out there among the 6 billion of us that believe the same thing about different stories, religion, or supernatural folklore. I don't have the functionality to make this big ol' jigsaw puzzle of life come into some clear concise, "fit it to the frame" picture.

Should I?

Uh-oh spegettiohs.

So I've pretty much put myself underground. Buried in time, avoiding facing myself through negligence in 'friend-keeping' or self accountability. Who am I? My job? A nearly thirty cynic? Pity partier? Where's the easy fix it button? PEOPLE, THIS IS THE DANGEROUS PART. THIS IS WHERE THE AIRPLANE HAS A DOOR RIPPED OPEN AND EVERYONE IS PRAYING TO SOME GOD KNOWN OR NAMELESS FOR DEAR LIFE. The answer... can not be found in the rewind button. Thats the trap my peeps.

You know, I went through most of my life feeling really alone. Then suddenly I had a room full of people who just loved me, some of them even "got" me. Time, marriage, kids. I moved away. Some of them moved away. It seems like a long time ago. I'm in a different culture. I keep trying to make connections with people. I'm just not very successful.

I feel like the kid I kinda remember myself being in elementary school. The one that tried talking to the other kids with no success because he talked like a grownup. I don't know if I get another break where I meet lots of great people that I can incorporate into my family. I'm prepared to deal, working with the cards I have. It's just that I'm doing it dragging my feet grumbling.

I have historically tried to rap these blogs up with some solid positive point. God wants us to "fear not" and"put our trust in Him" and "lay our heavy burdens down" and to know we are "friends of God". On days like today when I have difficulty with such concepts I have to remind myself that its ok to pray for faith when you don't have it. Sometimes, I don't have to juice to do even that. Thats why I thank God for the friends and family that he has given me because they pick up the slack and the bible says Jesus is up in heaven on our behalf. I still chose to believe that, so worst case scenario we've all got somebody on our side.

Happy Easter.

Eat smoke; Drink Mirrors

2011-02-06T12:25:00.000-08:00

Water is natures ant. It carries more than it's small particles should. It colonizes, it moves in lines, it stores up, as ice, what it can for winter. It stings. It fascinates. It destroys. It supports life.

I watched it from the car garage, I sat on the small bumper of my mothers ford escape that was covered in dust. I assume this dust comprises a mixture of salt and dirt. There was snow and two ravines created by tire tracks which were conduits for water flowing downhill. The temperature had risen above freezing today and the large amount of snow around was shedding some of its weight. For a moment I wondered where the water was going but quickly realized this was a silly question because I knew, it was going to the river. It was going to gang up and riot and raise hell all the way to the south of the equator.

I was cooling off from shoveling the snow that had avalanched off of the roof the night before. I'm badly out of shape, I thought as I was breathing unevenly and felt the muscles in my arms shake in confusion. When the snow fell it fell as a sheet of ice and crumpled up like fabric would if you dropped it to the floor. It was icy, cold, heavy and hard.

For a while I was content to watch the slanted sun rays play across the small torrent of water. Cars came and splashed the moving lines of fluid. Running through it, the water was unphased- undaunted and I felt as though it had grown aware of my observation and was staring at me. It's stare reminded me I was outside alone in my watching. I closed the garage door and came inside.

If I ate smoke and I drank mirrors I would be mysterious. Everyone would be confused and think I was made of magic. Some people would see mirages, others would mistakingly think nothing was there. I am mysterious. All my words are obscufication.

I thought today about riches. It is a common thought for me as I work in the financial industry with people who I would consider rich. I would also like to have this problem. I sadly consented that someone won't just hand me a million dollars, as I keep hoping will happen, and iconicly also provide me with my own silver spoon which I can employ someone to feed me with from the said million.

Somehow this thought of money led me to thinking about friendship. My friend Dillon, who lives about 26 hours by car if you obey speed limits, is in the army national guard now. My upstairs neighbors daughter ended up joining as well. They are both now in the same place being conformed to the standard of the military. I miss him. They don't let you talk to people outside of their program while they are conforming you.

I have the concept of a novel in my head. It's been there for about 6 years. One of the characters lives in a cave. In my mind I was thinking about the cave wall, on it I saw "To know friendship is to know lonelyness and dispair." I realized today that if you tried to sum up your day with a numerical value for every good moment and bad moment it is possible for the bad to outweigh the good. This can be discouraging.

I realized that the sane way of dealing with such factors is you have to intentionally put more value on the good moments and in effect stack the deck. I hurt my finger when I was shoveling. It will heal if I give it enough time. You could say the same thing... about a lot of things.

The End.

Good Morning Tuesday.

2009-06-15T23:37:00.000-07:00

Upon completion of another setting of hours where voices of many people entered my mind through a headset strapped to my skull- I close my eyes for a moment, muscles under one eye spasm quietly, I then breathe deeply and tilt my head backward and hear it crack- experiencing a moments relief followed by an emptiness of stiffness where parts of me remember the supple elasticity of youth and invincibility. As unhumorously ironically as life and I in life can be... I am wearing another headset. This time music pours through it- it's still peoples voices but somehow I tell myself “this isn't work, it's different” and I sit slouching at a computer that bleaches my eyes with light.

I threw a sheet on my wooden floor tonight. I tried to touch my toes. I've been trying for over a week. My toes use some anti-elastic muscle magic to keep me from reaching them. I am not irate. I have been doing 10 or so pushups. I tell grafity “What for! And with!” It reminds me that I have puny muscles and a cutely bulging midsection. (I call it cute because it's mine, no one else has called it cute, this is because in all eventuality it is not cute but is merely bulging. I remind myself, “Mr. Gaspard it is indeed bulging but it is also functional. You have a perfectly functional Tum Tum.” I then pat it a few times and get a robust “Pladunk” as it is eager to demonstrate it's musical capacity for awesome base sound. I can only sigh and look sidelong at it. It knows I am looking and decides to behave. Such is the way of Tum Tum's. Better to leave well enough alone.) I did some weird in-the-air leg stuff while I was on the ground but eventually gave it up and ate a few pieces of lamb, chicken, potatoes, and a cookie with m&ms that was the left over from my brother George's birthday celebration.

I tell myself I'm grownup. I know I'm silly and childish. I like my full sized bed where I use all of the space. I enjoy spending hours writing or reading or watching silly Japanese cartoons. I become momentarily disillusioned and wonder how I could fit other people into this amazingly ridiculous life of mine. I become selfish. I think, why did I have to move here when I had made so many people so close to my heart. I knitted them in and now I feel so ripped apart. Silly Stupid Gaspard! Make up your mind! Reinforce your resolve! I know why I'm here, I was called up here. It sounds so crazy, I wonder offhandedly... are you deranged? I look into the patchwork mess of my heart and , “Oh yes, The Jesus is there. This is legit.” I put my mumbling away, much like a child would put their marbles into a pouch thinking “Yes, there may be a single player shootout later. But for now know your place. Mind the marbles.”

I almost forget. Life isn't about getting ahead. It's about loving. Honestly, carefully, recklessly, unjudgingly, with passion, and no hesitation. I wonder. Then with little warning, I stop worrying about it. Tired I yawn and try to get my eyes to focus,wondering, what should I write next? I think, “Something to make them smile.” But that takes to much work, I say and I get intimidated by the writing space(I was going to write “white space” but it's really space where writing belongs so let it be what it may.).I know I have days and weeks ahead of me where anyone/anything can happen. I think lastly to my imagined crochet heart all busted open, with Jesus peeking out. It was all closed in but now, even though its all busted, there's an opportunity to become something new. At first I think, “A ring!” because I would very greatly like to give away a ring, though it doesn't seem right. Then the thought dawns me, a tent! My crochet heart busted up will be a tent and I'll make room for all kinds of people to make a place where they can come and sit in. We'll have a welcoming, a homecoming, for the lost and wandering. And there will be so much space there wont be room for anyone to be in someone's way. Maybe that would be like carrying a piece of heaven in my heart.

Good morning Tuesday.

My huckleberry friend.

2008-10-24T20:07:00.000-07:00

I woke up an hour or so ago. It is nearly two o’clock and I am eating an apple picked at an orchard I visited while participating in the Hollis apple festival last Sunday. … I should not call it an apple, for it has a name.. like we have names. It is a golden delicious apple. I had gone to this event so I could see an orchard. It would be my first time seeing such a thing, another reminder that I am still very new to this place.

The apple is delicious, it’s a perfect memory to etch on this very beautiful and slightly cool Saturday. Some time before I woke I had decided to go to the library today to return a book I read that had become overdo.

No matter what kind of mood I am in before I leave the house, on a Saturday while the sky is still blue I am instantly happy. Such an immediate thing can catch you off guard but it has never been unsettling.

I got up to get another apple. I am in a very good mood right now, I haven’t had anything to drink yet and there is still some hot coffee waiting in the kitchen. While I am writing I am dreaming of sitting on the front porch drinking that coffee and watching the cars go by on the very busy Bridge street. My dad starts talking about taking a trip out to see the area of New Boston and mom offers to cook some eggs but I’m content with my apples and writing a letter to you. I work against my own desires and ask if she would fix me a cup of coffee. I have some coffee halfway through the apple and three paragraphs into the letter. I am really enjoying this letter, I’ve been wanting to write for some time and I can’t seem to get you out of my mind. The coffee is very good.

A few weeks back I brought my mom over to the library to show her the selection of music they have upstairs. She selected a few albums to check out, I’m listening to the Thelonious Monk she chose. I went to the library in flops and as I was passing the catholic church I remembered that I wanted to give blood. Maybe I’ll do that today. I don’t like the idea or concept of it… but even though I still want to do it. I have to do it… really… my parents were saved by blood given by others.

So I went to the library, I dropped off the book I had finished reading and browsed the movies recently returned that weren’t yet shelved. I selected a few and talked with one of the librarians with whom I am familiar about that day I went to the Orchard, she had similar plans for tomorrow. Something about it made me happy. It had been a few weeks since I had gone on my Saturday visit to the library so I visited the periodical section while I was there. Since reading the Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver I have found myself more inclined to read poetry and over time I have found that I have a great love for the craft. As a youth I spent a lot of time not liking it. I didn’t know what good poetry was then.

I picked up the current periodical poetry that the library gets (for the life of me I can’t remember it’s name, somewhere, Shannon- somewhere I promise- in the title is the word "Poetry".) They have these wonderful wooden tables in that area of the library that I love but every time I sit at one I wonder if they have ever been washed because all kinds of people sit at the tables, this is a little snoodish of me but I can’t help but think about it and how I don’t want to be sick with whatever they had sitting and enjoying the woodness of the table… I somehow manage to convince myself that they have to periodically(in the periodical section) do some cleaning and I get comfortable and start to read.

The poems I read were great, and I immediately thought of you because you are the only person I know that goes around quoting poets except for a very pretty girl I knew with blonde hair and blue eyes back in college, who for some reason liked to quote some of my poetry. The highlighted poet’s name was Bruce Weagle, or something like that, and he was an amazing poet.

I really enjoyed reading the pieces he submitted. At this point I think I could have called today "a wraps". It couldn’t get any better! But then I told myself no, no I should write… I’ve been putting it off for weeks and I felt abashed because I haven’t written a quarterly letter to my friends back home yet and let everyone know how things are finally starting to work out for us here. But I just couldn’t do it after they had that hurricane scare. I might wait a few more weeks before I do.I really wished you could have read Bruce’s poems right then and there and told me what you thought of them.

As I was walking home a very strong memory of the night before marched into my penetrable thought process. Last night I was in a room with two pianos. One was a baby grand or something on that scale…maybe smaller and an upright piano. The dream was about the baby grand though. It’s keys were loose and the harps strings needed tightening or replacing and this person I was talking to kept saying how it was fine and I kept telling them how it was in horrible condition, at one point I suggested them getting an upright to replace it but they already had an upright. Eventually I was frustrated enough that looked in the yellow pages for a piano man to see if the thing could be fixed for a reasonable price.

I met a man while I was in college who was nearly blind, an older gentleman, who tuned the piano’s in our very large music department. There was a whole floor of soundproof rooms with uprights. He had no formal training but he tuned the pianos by ear mostly. I kept thinking of him while I was looking up someone in the yellow pages but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out under which heading would a piano fixer be…

I’m not yet sure how I’ll spend the rest of today. I may walk around the city as the weather is nice. It’s been a while since I have crossed the bridge street bridge by foot. I have a few books to finish. I have some movies I could watch. I probably won’t write again for a while.

I sometimes think about what Aristotle said "give me a level big enough and I can move the world". Thursday as I was coming back from my break the thought occurred to me that perhaps we could move the world, with the levers of our hearts.

Derrek

(After writing this lever..err letter I felt a little guilty about not writing to anyone for such a long time, if I could have your permission I would like to post most of this to my blog. If not, that's ok.)

The week of the Apple (For Mr. Alack, a dear close friend)

2008-10-13T20:35:00.001-07:00

Seasons turn. Time moves. People change. Even in our stubborn stillness, while we, proclaiming to ourselves and those who may be listening, say “Yes, I am still the same.”

I’ve recently admitted to myself that I have crawled out of the much worn sack of adolescence. I picked the sack up at a race one year when we were competing in elementary school for a blue ribbon.

There were relays, obstacle courses, the sack race of course… and other methods of entertainment where one person wins and everyone else loses. I was only ever good at hoola-hooping and never good enough to win. It’s one of those cringing memories where you realize yes, I really did wear Hawaiian shirts and way too tight shorts for a 5th grader.

I looked at my arms this morning, they were long. The skin that’s managed to stay attached to these bones has begun to show some age where once it was smooth and childish. Mostly these are afterthoughts, mere chuckles when you remember little hands and arms that couldn’t reach over the sink, which didn’t seem long enough to wrap around anyone. These hands, they now grab tightly onto dreams that are half baked and I realize life is a funny curious exasperating thing. (Where are my kisses?)

Most of the world that confuses and frustrates us is a human made thing. If you walked far enough you’d find a place where there were no people. They wouldn’t tell you what to do because they wouldn’t be there. You could stand up all day long, or sit on your head, or scream, or sing off key and no one would stop you. Only… all the earth is bought up. Every inch of it is owned by someone, eventually a fellow who has nothing better to do would tell you to move it, to step off, to find some other land to vagrant… that if there were any kids out here in this nowhere land that you would undoubtedly be scaring them. I think that might be the exasperating part. (X marks the spot.)

This is the week of the apple. Every apple I eat looks like it was taken out of one of those gorgeously painted huger than a person still-life paintings. It’s full of life. A taste soaked in sunshine, the vitality of America’s earth blood, and the vigorous hope of men in the fields who raise their arms all day long picking the dangling jewelry from destiny crafted places and they acknowledge a creators intent of beauty and they suffer the ache of hard working days.

I keep drawing lines. Lines that shouldn’t be there. I’m looking for a fight. There has to be a reason why I feel so angry, why I have so much attitude. I guess you can only want to fix things that are wrong for so long until all those hot emotions have to go somewhere and hopefully cool off.

I decided I would give blood as frequently as I can. I’ve been selfish for a long time. Even if I can’t make sense out of this wonderful ironic life I can in an off topic manner still do something right.

It’s strange to think that these veins have faithfully transported 27 years of life. I have sensed my life’s experience through every fiber of my being. Every cell working together, proving their worth, to a host that says silly things.. Thinks silly thoughts… and lacks nothing. It’s a good friend that’s done me right and even if it doesn’t work as well as it once did I am thankful that I get the opportunity to live inside.

I often consider myself an old man in training, a grandpa in the making. It has been suggested by others that I don’t enjoy my life as much as I should. I enjoy it as much as I can and what regrets I might have are minor and whimsical. Though I will admit that a few more hugs and the occasional kiss would be a welcome thing, I would probably smile more frequently. Who wouldn’t?

I’m still working things out, the leaves are changing colors, the weather is slowly getting colder. Hey, do me a favor… just imagine for a moment you are holding my hand, I’m imagining I am holding your’s and there is a million of us and we’ve got nothing better to do than laugh.

OK, thanks.
(No wait, this is the exasperating part.)

D

A quick update.

2008-07-03T06:15:00.000-07:00

I am finishing my temporary assignment today at Saint Anselm College. Between the two assignments I've done here I have worked at the college for 6 months. I've met some good people and made a friend or two here so I am a little sad to leave.

I'm starting a new job Monday working for Walmart in a town about 20 minutes away. It's full time work and I think that this might be a good fit for me, especially if it becomes a "career move".

Dad had to quit his job last week. We were all in agreement that it was a good decision after he received some second and third degree burns. (I'd say more but it's really not my business to be putting out there.) So, at least for this week, I'm the only one working.

The next step on my list of things to do is get some funds together for a car but I'm not going to make that kind of financial commitment until I have some money saved in the bank.

I was approved by NeighborhoodWorks to get an IDA account. Over the course of 2 years I can save up to 100 dollars a month. Through a government grant the organization will match every dollar I put in with 3 dollars. They will match up to 2000 dollars which means for my $2000 they will deposit $6000 towards a down payment on a house. So I can realistically say in a few years I should be owning my first home.

Aside from that stuff we are going to Lawrence, MA for the fourth to visit with some relatives and my weekend is wide open. George and I will probably go play some pool. George and I got a gift card from Circuit city for our birthdays (I got mine a little early but you wont hear me complain!). We will probably browse over at the local store. Depending on how hot it gets we might get an AC unit.

I got my parents to call the electric company to see if they were doing any rebates on house appliances, they give a $20 dollar rebate for an energy star rated ac unit. You can also get a fantastic rebate on those energy efficient bulbs, and yes they do make a difference on your electric bill.

For those of you who like anime, George and I just finished watching Pumpkin Scissors and it has our official stamp of approval for fun quality stuff.

That's it for now. Oh yea I watched No country of Old men last night... I liked it a lot but it is very violent.

After playing pool I had some thoughts in the night.

2008-06-21T20:15:00.000-07:00

Visualize for a moment that you are standing inside of a thickly drawn circle. Everything outside of the circle lacks light and thus there is a world of shadows and darkness surrounding you. There is plenty of room in the circle, enough room to fit everyone in the world that you know and even some room for those you are destined to meet.

No one knows you better than yourself but you've opened your heart and shared your mind with special people, people who for one reason or another you felt a connection and you took the chance... to be judged, let down, hurt, betrayed, taken advantage of, or not appreciated and you let them in and now for better or for worse when they see you they can see a glimpse of who you really are. These people stand in the circle with you. Because of the closeness they are always on your mind.

On the outskirts of the circle's line there are shadows of people. Some seem to almost be visible while others drift farther away. Many many shadows populate the outside of the circle. Those shadows are people you know but haven't let in. For one reason or another you haven't had enough time to include them or the risk of sharing yourself is just to great.

It feels good to have people inside of the circle, it's comforting. You aren't entirely in control but you aren't out of control either. These people value you, respect you, and they love you... or pieces of you. For better or for worse they've got your number, they know your tune. It's frightening, exhilarating, and humbling.

It's your circle. You're life. Your space.

Everyone has a circle. Some circles are lonely. Others are full. There are always shadows on the outside. Always will be.

The world is a big place and there are more people than there is time to live.

Share your life if you can and light up someone elses world.

Derrek

Proverbs 18:24
A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother

Hard Decisions

2008-06-19T10:19:00.000-07:00

Life in a bubble
Brain in the skull
Air in my lungs
Hope in your heart

I crawled out of the space where all the thought structure stood firm, it was forming a tower with level steps
The steps wrapped around the slow growing thing in a separate but symbiotic extension.

I've been taking the last few weeks to make some serious decisions regarding my near and not so near future. Moving to New Hampshire is probably one of the best decisions I ever made. It's beautiful here. Crime is a fraction of what it is in the New Orleans area. But there has been a serious down side to the move, one that I have been trying to overcome through sheer tenacity but tenacity isn't enough. The job market is very difficult and competition is fierce.

My decisions mainly focus on a strategy to beat this current situation. When making decisions it's best to have some kind of goal in mind. Your direction becomes clearer and you can measure the importance of your tasks and prioritize accordingly.

I want to be able to live on my own, I figure this would roughly require a salary of 35,000 a year.

This requires stable employment at one or more establishments. Currently I work through an agency that does temporary employment that can turn into permanent employment. The job I am working now will be lasting a few more weeks.

Temp work could turn into a job that meets my expectations but there is a relatively large cost involved to the employer to buy out the contract. Job placement is a better choice because there is not Temp to Perm conversion, my skill set and education are sellable but in this tight market there are people far better qualified and educated who are willing to work at the same pay rate as me. I've nearly ruled direct hire out because of companies responsiveness in the past. I'll continue applying for jobs through monster and career builder but at this point I am skeptical.

My current strategy has been to work temp jobs to orient myself to the local market, build a name for myself in the area, gain new skills through working, and actively look for full time work.

My first goal was accomplished. I have a pretty good idea of what businesses are in my area and what my travel radius will be. I've also put some time in working for a reputable organization in the area, building a name for yourself is a continuous process (acquiring professional references). I believe I have a solid amount of experience in NH, showing that I am both employable and professional.

I've learned a few new things but I haven't gained a competitive edge with new or advanced skill sets.

Currently I am assuming the market continue to be difficult. I am also assuming I will continue to find work through agencies (This could be a bad assumption). With these assumptions in place you have to look at the market and see what jobs are out there that are in demand and will stay in demand.

My analysis is that accounting and computer science professions are areas hiring currently. I am not able to make an estimate of how long this demand will last, the New England area (NH, MA, RI, CT, ME) is a technology and finance center in the country.. that won't change any time soon.

I've been trying to evaluate if I should go back to school and gain some skills to become employable in either area.

I decided that if I would go back to school I would take an associates. I have a BA in management and at this juncture I don't feel it's in my best interest to pursue a masters. If I decided to pursue a masters I would have to take prerequisites. I figured since I would have to take the prerequisites anyway why not get an associates in the process? The school system here would allow me to transfer all of the credits I take and I could then start a masters program, if later I decided to get a masters.

I have filled out all the paper work to be accepted at Manchester Community College next semester. My classes would be 5 pm to 9 pm.

I don't know if one semester would give me the skills I need to become employed in either area but I believe a full year of classes would. The issue is I don't know what my schedule will be like after this current job so I can not lock myself into a schedule that I wouldn't be able to keep. The unknown job location and time of employment are holding me back from signing the financial documents.

I don't like gambling with 5 months of my life. School will cost me between 3-4k. Some of that money would have to come out of pocket.

I don't know what kind of plan God has regarding my life. I know that coming north was the right thing to do. I want to see people come to know Jesus like I know Jesus, it is inevitably the root of my causes.

I've been talking with my dad about various business ideas but there is nothing immediately promising.

I'm playing a game of cat and mouse with myself, luckily, however it pans out I am sure to win.

Or.. is it.. that in either case I lose?

I can be assured that whatever my loss God, who's ultimate sense of humor prevails, can turn a rainstorm into a rainbow. Leprechaun's and gold are incidental. Rainbows and promises are the potent poised purpose we can put stakes down and build our lives around.

D

Endless as endless is.

2008-05-28T07:49:00.000-07:00

Today I am the sound of two glasses clinking together. This sound weighs fitfully with the intentions of two people having their meal together. It holds all of that moment’s emotion and clarity ringing at levels just above human hearing, yet an unequivocal substance. I am that sound.

I’m feeling frustrated. Endless water pours over me. It’s not unpleasant, it’s just endless.

I’ve been running the last few days. I was surprised to find out that my legs have not gotten sore or stiff. The foot I fractured a few years back is a little sore this morning and my back, which for the last year has given me a lot of grief, aches a bit. Still, I feel healthier. The air is so much cleaner here, even when I am running past cars inevitably inhaling their fumes-it seems a better quality of fumes.

There is something bizarre and wonderful about walking on a street that suddenly advances towards the sky. Then when you get to the top of the hill the street has paved over you turn around and see hills and trees as far as the eye can see. The tallest buildings in the city seem modest and a little tranquility creeps in when you don’t expect it. We’ll call that little tranquility Molly.

Hi Molly.

I live on the first floor of a two story house that has been divided into three living units. A family of three live in one unit. The other unit, which is probably a studio, is occupied by two brothers who speak only Spanish. The husband and wife have this very cute Hispanic girl that is probably 4 or 5. A few weeks ago I watched her in her pokadot pink and white outfit walk to the park across the street and talk to strangers, showing several of them her new toy.

Is it really that different up here? Where you can just let your kid just wander around? I was sitting on the porch steps watching, her mom was there too. The daughter is the only one that speaks English in the family. I don’t really try and talk to them but we say hello in passing. When the girl is especially full of energy she drives her tricycle into our door. She has been known to knock and ask if we will come out and play.

The little girl and her mom went to visit relatives. I kind of miss her running around. She often stomps on our roof. The mom plays loud Spanish music that has a lot of tuba during the day, don’t tell anyone but I kind of like it. It goes, Wamp womp wamp womp! Some times they dance to the music…. Life is peachy.

Today I am feeling panicked. It happens sometimes… in school when I was feeling panicked I would just flip furniture and launch empty plastic bottles against the wall.

Today I called Dillon (my old college roommate and one of my best friends ever), and for some magical reason just talking to him about nothing in particular made me feel better. Blind frustrating rage dropped to manageable “bad attitude”.

I don’t know the origin of all this explosive emotion. I woke up this morning, in bed mind you, calculating how much it would cost to live on my own. The figure I came up with dwarfed my current monetary capacity.

I’m very thankful for being able to share expenses with my folks but I really really really am ready to start the next chapter of this story. Working as a “temporary secretary” is starting to erode my delusional super inflated ego. I am thankful. I am very thankful. Making a living is awesome. And even in a worst case scenario I am living better than 3/4ths of the world.

I may have a unique skill for appreciating things that really cause me a lot of grief. Every experience I have gets pocketed and distilled for some writing purpose in the future. I could be having the worst day of my life and in the back of my head I’ll be thinking, “This is going to make for some good writing material” or “This horrible experience is really going to crack people up.”

Laughing and crying, Molly and me. Life is funny like that.

I’ve started walking during my lunch break, the campus of Saint Anselm is beautiful. No matter how much internal gunk is building up on your insides when you go for a walk you accomplish something. If someone asks you what you did today, you will be able to tell them that you walked around the baseball field. It’s so definitive. It’s so irrefutable. I mean, you WALKED around a BASEBALL FIELD! People get Olympic metals for that kind of stuff!

In the middle of walking I got this overwhelming feeling that God was really moving things around in the unseen realm. He was looking out for me, I just had to be patient. The purpose for me being here was going to be completed…. I just have to hang on… I didn’t even have to keep myself together. What a relief!

I’ve been in Manchester for 8 months now. 8 months sailing away on a boat from the world I knew to this bizarre but hospitable new world. Here I’m anchored for the future. It’s a future we are all sharing. I’m working to make it the best future possible.

Remember, bad days make great stories.
And be on the lookout for Molly. She shows up in the most unexpected places.

Honesty-The good kind

2008-05-23T09:05:00.001-07:00

Honesty

There are some topics where vagueness is allowed. Honesty isn’t one of those topics.
There’s an American colloquialism that I am endeared with, “Let’s be honest with ourselves”. It calls for everyone within hearing to take a moment and really check their moral inventory or give the impression of deep soul searching while running over grocery lists or impending bills. In some cases the latter can be equally painful or rewarding.

Honesty can easily be translated to “Help Me”. In my personal reflection I find I often don’t measure up to how that ideal person should act when presented with every day life.
So I often evaluate myself, staring down the disreputable behavior (Misbehavior in this case) and I ask… how can I stop? How can I be better?..... How can I get that ideal person to stop being so ideal so us normal slobs can breathe a little easier? But you can’t bring down the Ideal.. cause the ideal ain’t real. Nope nope nope!

My friend Pete asked me a few days ago how I was on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the number that you don’t want to be, like the song (How cute). I answered 4. Pete was shocked! He never thought I would get below a 5. Neither one of us had set any concrete quantitative elements to the scale but somehow we both intuitively understood where we were on the scale and what it meant.

Later I started thinking about what that number meant and how I could add to it.
Solid employment would add 2 points. Nice pay would be 1 point. Walking around in the sunshine is an easy 1 pointer. Being in love, 2 points. Reading a good book, 1 point! Knowing what I am doing with life would be a wonderful whopping 3 points! Being alive is 3 points, easy. Being a functional human being, 1 point. Coffee in my system… .5 points. Getting people to go along with one of my hair brained schemes… 3 points!

I imagine (too often) that most people’s scale system would be different. But somehow we end up with the understandable 10 points at any point in time. I don’t know anyone who tries to shoot for a 1 but it’s conceivable, after all you have to be the best at something.

There is this scripture in the bible that says that you should cheer with your close ones when they are cheering and tear up with them when they are tearing. The person with the half full glass would say that would make the world miserable because everyone would be crying but the person who knows where to refill their glass would put their arm around the fellows shoulder and for some reason the pessimist would be feeling better. There’s something to it… I think.

Here’s to a 10 for your weekend.

D

I can't see you because you are standing in the light.

2008-04-30T11:45:00.000-07:00

I can’t see you because you are standing in the light.

Recently my eye sight has diminished. I noticed that my ability to see things at a distance and make them out has become less than adequate. I was walking down the hallway on the second floor of the Alumni building where I work and someone was walking towards me from the other end. At the end of the hallway there is a large window with light pouring out of it. I look at this person walking towards me, still a good 40 paces away, and I can’t make out their face because the light is streaming across my vision.

I noticed the same phenomenon when watching tv in a dark room. I’m guessing this is normal for people with poor eye sight. Since I am a new member of the club I am clueless. I figure it was a good run, since I have been on computers since I was 3. I have the skills I picked up over the years to thank for my easy employability.

Now I have to pick some glasses that will make me look super attractive with admirable fashion sensibility. There is no way that I would use contacts and I think I have a stigmatism so that option is definitely out. No matter the stigmatism! I have a ‘don’t poke my eye out’ phobia.
No contacts, no contacts, no contacts.

So I am in the hallway, right? And this person is standing in the light. This is a nearly blinding sight. I don’t want to take this lying down without a fight. But facts are facts even if I contest them with all my might. I haven’t really been out in the night, but I imagine it will be a fright. Perhaps if I wear sunglasses things will be less glossy bright.

Yikes!

Derrek, I can’t restrain myself from rhyming, Gaspard

I apparently have some unresolved issues.

2008-04-25T06:53:00.000-07:00

I dreamed all night last night that I was chasing after Alison Weil. Somehow in New York somewhere I managed to find her and corner her. I went on to appologise for being lame for years and years then was pleading with her to be my friend again.

I said stuff like, "You are the only one that ever really listens."

And, "I miss you being my friend."

In my mind she still looks like that full of braces pimpley girl I remember so vividly from years ago. I remembered her smell, our heigh difference, that obstinate look that both dares and demands.

Folks, I was 20 when we last spoke to each other (I'm 26 now). If I was a normal healthy human being I would have completely moved on. But to this day she is still trampsing around in my head (I recently tried to evict her from my heart, I wrote extensivly about it in my blog entry 'clearing out the heart').

She gave me a list of cryptic accounts and groups that I would have to look through to find her again. Very bizzare, slightly evil.

So why am I subconciously so intrenched? I think it's the same reason why I decided to let go, why it was probably best to let go.

See, when I was 19 my dad Steve passed away. I had asked Alison out a few weeks before. I was deep in the youthful love experience and then this really tragic thing happens that completely overwhelmed me. All my memories and thoughts mangled and fused those two very strong emotional experiences. She was there though, supporting me through it.

I became very disfunctional. I couldn't think about Ali without these negative feelings swamping me in rot. The relationship didn't work out. I dropped the ball, I couldn't get my head together. Ali was still willing to be friends but I was too emotional and at the time I didn't think I could divorce my desire from the honest friendship we shared in the past. I was probably right, I gave up too easy but at the same time I didn't want to take the chance of hurting her more.

She introduced me to Triche who I spent some of the better of my dark days with. This is one part of my life that I really wish I could do over because Triche deserved way better than the way I was treating her. She was this beautiful, kind, careing, benevolent person that liked me, who knows why. But I was still tore up about Ali and I was messed up because of my dad dieing.

It was a bad time for love.

I've never been in a relationship since then where I have had someone care about me the way Triche did. About 4 years ago I decided to stop the whole dating thing. Life got a whole lot simpler but I wake up some mornings worndering if I really will be single for the rest of my life. Other days I am really happy about that being a future that I could live.

A few days ago I went to a gathering of people who read poetry and I read a piece that I wrote right after my dad diedand afterwards went on to explain why I wrote it and what I was thinking. It's been a really long time since I openly talked about it and now I feel like i've opened up the proverbial can of worms.

Alisons ghost pops up in my head and here I am talking about all this mess again.
Reality is I have changed over the years and she has too and if she wanted to get back in touch it only takes a google search to have my name pop up. I should really take that as a clue to let it go for good.

The real Alison moved on, what is on the inside infultrating my thoughts and dreams is
something I created that only has the youthful face of someone I loved. So once again, i'm giving
this issue to Jesus. Maybe this time I can really let go.

The poem goes like this:
Have you ever felt like you are falling apart
falling to pieces
and every part of you is just the same
and you're not losing anything.

A reminded of how my mind works.

2008-04-18T08:12:00.001-07:00

This morning George was up before me. He went to bring dad to work and when he returned to the house I checked the time, guess what, I forgot to set the alarm. It was 7:00 A.M.

LUCKY!!!!!!
I dodged the oversleeping monsters hideous claw.

He kept talking to me, it was morning, but somehow it didn’t end up being a bad thing. George can make me laugh even in the dangerous morning “Don’t talk to Derrek” time. We started talking about how it takes me an unnatural amount of time to make a sandwich in the morning, about 12 minutes usually.

While I was in the shower George took out all the sandwich stuff. I made the sandwich in 3 minutes. Something was wrong here. It should only take me a minute to find the stuff. Where does the extra 8 minutes go? So, I starting thinking about it (I should note here that thinking about anything when I get up in the morning is an amazing miraculous miracle). Maybe I was falling asleep while making my sandwich? That could be where the extra 8 minutes go.

I suggested that George could, unknown to me, observe me in the morning, when I think he is sleeping, with mirrors from dark corners of the house. He decided that idea wasn’t good enough. He was going to bring home boxes and put big holes in them so he could stealthily crawl into them. If I ask what they were for he would respond, “I need stuff”. I would probably ask him what he was going to put in the boxes. He would reply, “Boxes are stuff” and just look at me until I dropped the subject. I wouldn’t drop the subject of course, I would start to ask him about the boxes again and prepared for my nagging he would have a huge sign that reads “BOXES ARE STUFF”. I would then decide to leave it alone.

The scenario goes like this:

The next day I am making my sandwich and. Yes, I nod off unknowingly in half stroke spreading the mayo. I wake up and automatically resume the sandwich making process. Startled, I find George standing in front of me. He appeared out of nowhere. I fall back asleep. I wake up again and resume the sandwich making… George is gone. Was it a dream?!!
But George is in one of his boxes he has placed all over the house, watching me with one of his mirrors. George is a ninja.

Things can only get more bizarre from here.

So that was our conversation this morning, George spying on me making sandwiches.
The scary thing is I wouldn’t put such things past either one of us. We will go there. Happily.

2007-12-10T07:35:00.000-08:00

I was reading the end of the book of John yesteday on my
lunch break. It almost always chokes me up. Jesus was beaten,
killed, and buried. His friends, the folks he spent 3 years with,
scattered and hid themselves in fear for their own personal safety.

After three days, he just popped right into their hiding
place. Their fear and forgetfullness vanished. Their purpose became
clear again. Their tears of sadness turned into joy. Plans that had
quickly derailed were instantly put back on track. He let them know
that the world hated him, and that the world would hate them just
as much or even more. Two things he told them to do, these stand out
to me more than everything else. To love each other and love those
around you. By this people would know we are His.

The truth is, every day we wake up and this world we live
in weighs us down. We make decisions to love or hate, to forgive or
to begrudge, to work or to sleep. With these momentary decisions we
either shine light to clear away the ever-encrouching darkness or
hide ourselves in its cover. Life can be very difficult and short
lived. Many people don't live by these two rules. Despite that,
I believe our lives were crafted by loving hands and we were set
here to play the important role of loving each other. In this, God
resides. In this, evil is confused. In this, there is eternity.