August 12, 2013

“The ‘Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first awake.” - Roman Payne 

I’ve erased and typed this sentence a hundred times. 

I’m trying to get my words out on paper; these demons from my fingertips. I don’t know why writing helps the way it does, I’ve never been much of a writer. Always I was speeding through school essays and skimming pages and spark-notes for reports.

It’s the only thing since losing my closest confidant that I can do to get some of the feelings out on to the digital space. “Losing” is a terrible term, but that’s what it feels like to me ultimately. Melodramatic me. Trying to tell myself to reasonably let go. It’s so fucking hard.

I err by hanging my dirty laundry out for everyone to see, but I just don’t care what people think of me. I’m being false by keeping things inside or pretending to be okay when I’m really not. I’ve been using the phrase ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ in reference to myself a lot lately. Futility. Futility.

These last few weeks I’ve found out I am indeed a jealous person. Amplify that by always having a low sense of self-esteem and bottom tier of self-worth and you’ve got one potent concoction to prolong this misery and a formidable weapon for the Black Dog to grasp firmly in his maw.  I need to take a paragraph to scream into the void, thus follows.

Why him? Why not me? Why is one man ostensibly worth more than another? When it all boils to molecules we’re all the same basic building blocks. Our actions are what define us as individuals, not the ooey gooey particles. This is rather new for me, this feeling of wanting what someone else has. I haven’t felt this way since I was a child pining over the newest bike in the neighborhood. I'm trying very hard not to measure myself to anyone's standards, especially my own.

Let me say, one thing that I do have insane pride in for myself is my drive. Passion? Obsession? One man’s trash... I have this will for a reason. This ultimately makes me a giant blithering hypocrite. To my friends that reach out to me I suggest wise and sage advice pertaining to relationships and life, as if I know any better. Blind leading the blind some would call it. Fact of the matter is I don’t practice what I preach, plain and simple. I tell people to get away from relationships that aren’t good for them or try and hear their problems and come up with reasonably solutions. Alas, here I sit, pretending what I feel is more pure or important than that of theirs. I’m immune to my own rules don’t you know?!

Such is that divine insight that has given me this ‘willpower’ to keep me trying, almost as though I feel blessed to have found ‘true love.’ I can’t explain why I feel so passionately about this. I just do. Could all be farce or the beginnings of a man destined to spend his life in a padded room.

In a time INSANE amounts of inward reflection and soul searching- this is one thing that I desperately cling to. I’m being swept away in the shit storm of self-destructive thoughts and this is the single ancient root most secure to the earth. I cling so tightly to this one positive emotion as my sneakers slowly slip off my feet in these gale force winds. There is absolutely no explaining this eloquently in words; maybe song- if I could sing. I understand why bloodshed occurs for some. I understand why sonnets were written, ballads crafted, poems cried. This is the most powerful force in the universe.

Break from the action.

Foo Fighters comes on the radio just now. Skip it Pandora. Can’t deal with what you make me feel right now. Weezer is next, these cruel dice rolls. Okay boys, let’s try a completely different genre and station. Coldplay following; some kind of cosmic joke. These are all bands that mean something to me on a deep level and out of sheer circumstance they hit the airwaves. You having a chuckle out there God?

Songs have this power. This power to make us think they were written for this moment we’re sitting in right now. The Verve wrote Bittersweet Symphony in 1997. They had no idea they really wrote it for a boy sitting in the soft glow of a monitor in the summer of 2013, 11:11pm. He clicks on his mechanical keyboard like it’s going to save the planet from exploding. Furiously typing; quickly this young man fixes mistakes, erases improper phrases, corrects terrible grammar (for the most part). He owns this song right now. It's not yours, it's his.

The song ends. I change the station. What plays next?

Dave Matthews Band – You & Me

This is stupid. I’ll take the hint. I’ve had enough of this for tonight.

*That quote at the beginning, made my draw slack when I read it. You should read it once more. 

Breaking the Spirit

I just need a place to write down some selfish thoughts, without embellishment or stupid-ass quotes. Stupid meanings behind meanings or even proper grammar or punctuation. I just don't care right now.

Life sucks. I realize that I won't feel this way tomorrow, I realize that this moment is fleeting and will not persist.  

I may look back at this note and just delete it. I realize how childish and stupid this types of things are--- but this is part of the battle with depression and life. There isn't really any point in hiding your emotions or pretending you're stronger than you really are.

I can't be any more genuine than I already am. If you can't see that.. fuck you? I guess.

Today I let the black dog win, because I let my guard down. I truly truly let me guard down so that I could take a breather and rest. To just give in and let the punches through; sure there is temporary bruising but I can actually rest my mind. Let the hurt in.

I wonder if this is the last time I hit bottom before I give up. I wonder if this is finally it. Eventually everything runs out of juice; even persistant me. I can't tell for sure, but to be truthfully honest right now in this second-- I give up.

Check back with me later, but for now... I give up. I don't care. This is stupid. I am fully FULLY aware that what I type is childish and meaningless, self-centered drivel. Sometimes you just need an outlet and this has been mine as of late. 

An accumulation of what life has thrown my way has, ONCE again, made every second seem like an eternity and every breath wishing it was my last. I posted before that I knew I wasn't out of the tunnel yet, and probably will deal with this all my time on this blue rocky world. No amount of self-teaching, motivation, or prescription cocktail will ever cure me, it's just something I have to constantly work towards. 

I'm tired of it. 

Please don't post any positive responses; for right now- it's a waste of both your time and mine, I won't take them seriously and just want to stew for a while here. One man can only take so much torture before finally giving in. We all just have different pain thresholds. I passed mine a while ago. 

[EDIT not 24 hours later]: I'm over it, it's passed. Archiving this to remember the ups and downs.

Invidia is Latin for This

The lovesick, the betrayed, and the jealous all smell alike."
-Sidonie Gabrielle Colette

"Man is by nature competitive, combative, ambitious, jealous, envious, and vengeful."
-Arthur Keith

"Hunger, revenge, to sleep are petty foes,
But only death the jealous eyes can close."
-William Wycherley

 

There are three quotes for this note because I couldn't decide which one I liked best or made my synapses fire most fiercly. The definition of 'jealousy' that I like the most is listed third. I quote dictionary.com, "3. vigilance in maintaining or guarding something." 

This is my most recent struggle or "battle" if you will. This is a new fight for me because I've never typically been a jealous man. I've always downplayed myself over other's talents with art or smarts or whatever; but never jealous of them. I've inherently been happy for co-workers or peers that have gotten promotions or accolades, 'deserved' or otherwise. Brett the adult has never been envious much of other's laurels. Usually when someone gets this kind of positive recognition, at least one other person thinks highly enough for them to deserve it. 

So, needless to say, it's strange. It's very strange to harbor such emotions or feelings for someone I've never truly even met. Insecurity? Absolutely. Abso-fucking-lutely. Pardon my French. This person should warrant absolutely not one spare or wanton thought from me; not worth wasting my energy on.

To be clear, I've always measured myself up against other people. It's a weakness of mine. Despite this I try not to feel entitled to things that I honestly haven't worked towards as hard as others. Let's face it: some people are just granted advantages out of the gate. This is life; deal with it. "QQ" as the internet would say. Cry some more.

Trying to deal with this terrible and annoying beast, this sneaky little malignant rascal of jealousy... is tiresome. The way this brain is wired; I can't let it go. I'm obsessive about things; mulling them over and over ad infinitum. My DNA includes instructions to be enthusiastic and devoted to things I deem worthwhile. I'm a geek after all. Passionate about it. 

I'm dancing around it, but you can obviously come to the conclusion on your own that this is all about a woman.The woman. It usually is when it comes to me.

Real original.

Continue to work at this; continue give it up and let it go.

...Attempting to anyway.

Canonization

“I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.”
-Nelson Mandela

 I continue to work toward being a 'good person.' My methods for this are just to follow my moral compass and practice what feels right and avoid what seems wrong. I've been told I'm blessed with a good head on my shoulders and I have the ability to discern good from bad character. Most people are good, given the chance. 

It's hard though, because I'm not Saint B. Hamre III. I'm not a celebrated figure of good and purity, but not a single saint started out purely righteous; saints as we know them were/are just malfunctioning human beings with big hearts or extraordinary strong wills. Keep trying, keep practicing, keep fighting; even though you may end up as a martyr when the text books are published. 

I actually just want to give up right now. I don't want to keep trying. I feel like I'm just faking it.

Every time I find myself leaping in front of a proverbial bullet for a friend or stranger I feel like I'm just doing it for myself. I feel selfish for being selfless? Does that really equate to being altruistic? It's almost like I'm only acting the way I am for some sense of good morality or inward need to do so. Sure I do "kind-hearted" things without thinking about them. I'm willing to share the load and even endure hardship in the stead of others, but whenever I do something for someone else it feels good, it feels like the right thing to do. This leads me to believe I'm only really the way I am to chase this moral high-- from one buzz to the next, selfishly. 

Shouldn't volunteering be a chore? Shouldn't offering yourself and time come with more of a mental strain and thought behind it? Shouldn't I have self-preservation and want something tangible out of this whole deal? Sometimes it's as though I act this way because I feel I'm working toward heaven or eternal life, for personal gain, or whatever the hell you believe in. Isn't that just being an egocentric asshole in sheep's clothing?

If I continue to pour myself into people and seemingly get nothing back, am I going to end up vacant and hollow? Cause that's what it's starting to feel like. I'm running out of fuel in the tank and I just passed the last self service station for three hundred miles. I don't want anyone's pity or storied accolades. There is no need for people to reimburse me for my time or effort. Guess it's just that I feel like it's hit a point where I'm being taken advantage of or taken for granted. It will pass.

The survivor in me tells me I should stop giving so much and focus on self-preservation, but I can't stop the addict from continuing to shoot up.

Even this note has been self-centered and full of the word "I." Me. me. me. I suppose I'm just attempting to get some of these confused words out of my brain box so they can stop festering up here.

The Guise of Defeat

"There is no truth. There is only perception."
 -Gustave Flaubert

A smattering of incoherent ideas and ramblings this time.

Take a moment. 

Massage your temples.

Inhale.

Sort through the garbage in your head. Rationalize what is real and what is perceived as such. The sense of defeat is only "defeat" if I allow it to be. Failure is only failure if we.. if I stop trying.

Exhale.

Mornings like these are rough. Having a crazy imagination on these days is an absolute curse. Running rampant and wild, It tears me down with the worst possible ideas and notions. Focus on just a color. Place all your thoughts so intensely on a color. Simple. Today I choose purple. The crazy scrawling ideas and sounds in my head are overwhelming; so I imagine myself taking a paint roller and slathering these messy walls with a deep purple. 

I can't let anything else matter. I just intensely focus on the movie of an imaginary me, painting. This helps "cover up" the chaotic logic and sloppy thinking that persists on the walls of my mind.

I still want to reach out to my best friend for help, but I need to figure out how to paint on my own. I'm getting better at it, but it's always easier with two people. I'm still not entirely surewhy I have to learn to paint alone. Somethings in life are a thousand times easier with an extra set of hands.

Inhale.  

It's an interesting notion. Things are never just black and white. One man's trash.. One man's defeat... Is it just a hurdle? Should I give up? Is it a lost cause? I feel like It should be classified as something but I can't stop myself from waking up every morning and trying again and again. I'm getting tired of it.

Like the coast repeatedly crashed by an unrelenting barrage of waves. I continue to erode and wear away.

Exhale.

I've been reading things I normally wouldn't read lately. Actually; I've gotten away from reading as a pastime in general the last decade. To be honest, initially, part of this effort was to win over a certain brilliant girl's affection. It's actually served as a method to really expand how I think and what I think about. Even though it takes a lot of concentration (at least for me; at least starting again) to read someone like Flaubert (as an example) it pays dividends in the end because the words and ideas are beautiful. These thoughts of other human beings are inspiring and provoking. Other human beings wrote these words- not demigods, not titans. Flawed human beings birthed this art. Squirming, squishy, alive things much like me and you.

I'm not just about spouting high-level gobbledygook, but it's enlightening to realize that there is true brilliance out there. Brilliance from other people; past, present, and future.

Dogged Determination

I mean, I never liked being told what to do. It's one of the reasons I dropped out of school. Give me something to assemble, I won't look at the directions, I'll try to figure it out by myself. It's why I love Ikea furniture.
-Dave Grohl

 It's hard for me to have motivation to write. As I've said before it's a lot easier to channel hurt and pain into words than when you're content and enjoying most days. That's what the last week has been. I wouldn't say it was easy, but it was enjoyable. Tackling obstacles and constantly improving step by step, day by day. I'm mainly clicking on my keyboard right now as an alternative to throwing on one of my new suits (which are fucking awesome) and getting a bouquet of roses or something ridiculous like that.

The fight with mental illness has really given me a unique set of tools to use in my other relationships and tribulations of day to day life. Forged by the fire... so to speak. 

As I continue to gain strength -- I gain clarity. Every day I know what's worth spending the effort working towards. I'm learning how to use every minute towards a worthwhile goal. I'm becoming efficient and confident; decisive. There is less and less wishing and wanting and more pursuing and catching. The predicament that I find myself in is that I'm still madly, wildly, fiercely, intensely in love with that same girl; this hauntingly beautiful angel.

One thing I've really started to like about myself is that I have strength to fight for what I feel is right. I'm not just some schmuck that blabs righteous words and spews kind-hearted yarns; I practice what I preach. Yeah yeah, sounds like I have a big ego, but realize that when a month ago I looked into the mirror and loathed the person looking back. To like anything about myself after those dark days is a miracle.

Full steam ahead to the point.

I'm continuing to fight for what I believe is my once-in-a-lifetime love for a woman. Each and every minute that I become more okay with who Brett is and will be; the more this mental image of her next to me is what I desire for my life. I haven't outgrown her or grown apart despite anything that has happened. 

I'm kind of annoying actually. I'm not deterred or routed; I keep bouncing up. I remind myself of Little Mac. (Geek Reference +1) 

I'll keep mashing my controller and keep getting back up. Over and over. Over and over.

Over and over.

Give up already.

Nope. 

This kind of motivation is the stuff they used to write sonnets about. My goal is for people to start using 'Hamre' as part of an idiom for 'dogged determination.'...and that folks is what we call a title tie-in. Smooth. 

A New First Thing

“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”

- John Green, Looking for Alaska

The Head.

I spent last night drinking UV Cake and Cola. I had a great time just bullshitting with good people. Despite waking up this morning to a chewed smartphone; the first thought I had was- this day is beautiful. 

You can't imagine what that's like. Waking up and feeling comfortable in your own skin for the first time in what seems like an eternity. Not thinking about anything else first... for the first time in three+ years. Me waking up and not thinking about one damn thing other than the warm sun on my face. Not having to run myself through a battery of mental exercises to just crawl through the day. It's about being excited to accomplish anything or NOTHING today. Being excited to just fucking be me.

This is the first time that I actually feel like I'm winning this duel. I'm beating it. Take that you evil good-for-nothing hound. I've felt shreds of this happiness before; "glimmers" if you will.

Nothing this strong.

Nothing this solid.

It's not as much of a release to talk about the happy moments. That's human nature I suppose. We all just want to stew in our own sadness; at least that's what I was like for a long while there. Probably will be again, but lets not count on that today.

The Heart.

Yeah, my love is still there. That will never go away. It's evolved into something much different almost right before my eyes. [Pokemon reference.]  It's kind of like getting cold water splashed on your face to wake up. EUREKA! Yeah, I still get butterflies every time I think about it. Yeah, I'm still hopelessly head over heels, but saying these words over and over again doesn't do anything to help the situation. I can keep yelling at the weather to change, but it won't. It's not about lacking the urge to express myself or still feeling those ushy gushy feelings. It's not about shutting down the romanticized ideals and shutting off the constantly thinking of ways to express those. It's about realizing it takes two. I will always have these forces that drive me toward that future for myself, because I still want that. It's about coming to my senses and realizing that I'm also worth effort. 

I can't keep wasting this energy and effort on this; even though I still really want to. It's not really giving up as it is tackling the problem from a different angle. I've done more than enough to show the quality of person I am. I'm not going to stop being who I am, but I'm not going to settle for less than I'm worth either.