Why is it that doing right is almost always the hardest thing to do? Why can’t the right thing also be the easy thing? This morning, I’m caught between what I know is right and what I actually want to do. I don’t want to make the phone call that I have to make, even though my ethics and morality require it of me. Sometimes I hate the fact that I’m principled. I have no doubt life would be easier if I could simply suspend my ethical objections about something… but that is what makes me who I am, right? It never feels like I’m doing right, even when I know that I am. I imagine the reason for that is that when I’m doing the right thing, it feels like I’m losing. I feel like I’ve conceded defeat and now I’m only reveling in the eye of the storm, and waiting on the rest of the hurricane.

In chaos theory, there is a phenomenon that has been established within just the last twenty or so years. It’s the idea of large scale failures of complex systems because of a single, smaller flaw. In other words, the old saying, “A castle is only as strong as its weakest point.” Within nuclear missile silos, they deal with something fairly similar, called “resonant yaw”. If a missile is even just slightly off during launch, or if it’s tilted on the pad, as it travels along it’s trajectory the missile will fall further and further away from its target. The problem becomes larger and larger until there’s a noticeable gap between the destination hoped for, and the actual destination it actually comes to. Don’t worry, I’m going somewhere with this. I’ve had a lot of people question me recently. They’ve been asking how I can write so much poetry about God and the like, when I don’t even believe in God. I can understand the confusion, but it surprises me that so few people consider that “God” is a shifting definition, depending on who you talk to. While it’s true that I don’t believe in a galactic super nanny, I do

Continue readingAll we monsters are divinely born, our fingers pointed to heaven, we direct our scorn

I’m writing this from an office on the 7th floor of the building that I work in. It’s nearing 10:30am, and I can see the city sprawled out below me and the sun glinting off of the river in the distance. I can see the freeway, a few bridges, and a good portion of downtown from where I’m sitting. A lot of people would kill to have a view like this from their home. I know I would. The many times that I’ve worked late here, I’ve sat transfixed and watched the twinkling lights of the city and the stars in the sky. It’s absolutely stunning, even in the day. But I find it fascinating that, after a little more than two years in this building downtown, I’ve somehow become immune to this same beautiful view. I don’t stop to admire it the way I used to, and that concerns me. I wouldn’t call it complacency or getting used to something. I suspect it’s something far darker and more worrisome: It’s that I just don’t care. I’ve stopped caring about how beautiful the view outside the window has become, and largely, it’s because I’m too busy to care. I work

Continue readingAnd all we see is outside our cages, the whole god damn world seems to fly

Let’s talk about relationships, life and death, time, distance, ashes and renewal. My cousin, who lived to be three months old, will never make it to four months. Her body labored, quivered, and finally faltered beneath the weight of having been born prematurely. She passed away. I’m saddened, of course, but it’s certainly not the same loss that my uncle and his wife are experiencing now. They are mourning for the loss of their child; a child they will never know but will always question the possibilities that once lay before them. They will wonder forever at what might have been. Of course, that is one of the reasons that losing someone at a young age is so difficult. We are left to wonder what things might have been later in life, or what potential might have existed. I know a girl who talks to her mother every day, even though they are separated by several states and hundreds of miles. There is a connection there, though, and that is  from knowing someone for an entire life.  The relationship still changes and still grows. Even after a lifetime of knowing each other, even with distance, they can choose to learn

Continue readingIt feels like we’re drinking and driving… it feels like we’re running in to our hearts

The brittle stillness and silence, the stars shine, and I’m currently sitting on a playset in an elementary school playground behind my house. The night sky stretches out for an eternity in each direction, it’s 1am, and I’m not sleeping. The wind blows gently out across the field and I can feel the Earth give a relieved sigh in the rising tumult. If I were sad, I suppose that I would weep. If I were angry, I suppose I would scream. I’m not sure I feel anything, though. It’s late and I should be in bed. I should be sleeping and, ideally, dreaming. But instead I sit on a playground and write my heart out under the soft glow of street lights and stars. I’ve written a dozen or so poems tonight, and they all seem pointless and trite. I’ve thrown them all away. The lines and stanzas are dreamt, written, recited, and discarded just as quickly. Nothing that I write will ever be perfect enough; I may tread the line in to mediocrity at one point or another, but I will never surpass that. I’m left without much more than a few paltry lines, and a sad smile to

Continue readingAnd there’s a hole deep inside of me, that I just keep pouring whiskey in… but it’s not filling

Recently, there has been a slight flux in the amount of traffic that comes to my site. Interestingly enough, a great deal of it is originating from Michigan. What can I say? I’m a geek and I enjoy looking up statistical details like that. That being said, I’m pretty confident I know the identity of at least one person signing on and reading the random dribble that spills from my brain and out on to the world wide web. I mean, c’mon, who else would be searching for my specific name on Google, from a school district computer, and have an IP address that lists Farmington as the originating city? It was pretty simple. I figured I’d just say, “Hi.”, and that I won’t call you out. I’m nice like that. 😉   I do like the fact that I’m getting a wider audience, though, even if it is by proxy. Anyway, today I was thinking about what it means to be 27 years old. It is my first full day being 27, and I’m breaking it in like a new pair of shoes. It’s kind of the same as when there’s a new year. It takes a while to automatically

Continue readingAnd yes the wine is delicious, but I’m needing something stronger. I’m growing suspicious that I won’t be here much longer…