...you dread weekends. I mean absolutely dread weekends. For most people the weekend is a time for relaxing and having fun. For me, it means I'm alone with too much time to think. I try to keep myself busy. Today I rearranged my parents basement (my home for now), cleaning out my brothers room because he left for two years to china, so I could make my own space for writing. Not blogs...I mean real writing. I also cleared out a storage room and used 6 old mattresses that we had laying around to construct a sound proof(ish) room for recording vocals. After I did that I spent most of the night recording vocals to my latest song, "I am Icarus." There is a lot of screaming in the song. My throat feels pretty torn up but I think it's turning out pretty good.
It's 3:30 in the morning and I should go to bed but I'm just so sick of life right now that I fear sleep because I fear that I'll lose some thought or idea that could revolutionize my life. I've been crying a lot lately at the most random moments. Today I started crying and I didn't even realize it, tears just started falling down my cheeks. I was like "Damn, I should be an actor...being able to cry on demand like that."
I'm lame. I'm feeling pretty shitty right now so I'm going to go play NCAA football and rack up a buttload of nice stats.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
The Burning Continues
I turned onto my street, on my way home from work, and I see it. The van. That same van that I used my inheritance gift money to buy, $10,000 cash. It's sitting outside my parents house. I hesitate for moment because being in her presence is almost too difficult for me to bear. But I continue. I figure that if she was bold enough to come to my parents house, than I'd be strong enough to confront her.
I walked through the door and immediately my heart felt like it was giving out. I feel in shock. Here is the girl I fell in love with a year and a half ago, married in Nov, and separated in April. She apologized for being there and for a few extremely tense moments, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. To some degree or another, I always felt like I was walking with eggshells around her. Being around her was sometimes like walking through a mine-field. Today that feeling was magnified a thousand times over. I started to have a panic attack so she left.
She made some comment about how I wasn't able to look her in the eyes. I couldn't respond to that. It wasn't because I was angry at her, it wasn't even because I thought she was angry at me...it was because even though we're getting divorced, and even though the divorce was ultimately my decision...I still miss her immensely and I miss the kids. That's the most painful thing about all of this. It's like this...have you ever wanted something so bad but you ultimately knew that it was the last thing you needed...like say, a double-fudge chocolate icing with chocolate chip and snickers cake. You want to eat the damn thing but you know that if you do, you're going to die of a freaking heart attack.
I know that being with her is a mistake...for both of us. But my appetite is telling me "EAT!" So when I'm around her, I have to put up barriers to protect myself. I can't allow myself to be manipulated back into being with her.
I guess she got so frustrated over the fact that I wasn't responding to her abuse (sending me text messages at 2 a.m. to tell me that she just spent a couple hours with a few friends of mine from the local music scene and that they now think I'm a "fuck-face." She's also tried to destroy my reputation with other friends and so she's come to do the same with my mom.
I can't believe that all of this is happening. She's become some sort of stranger...and I suppose I have to. It wouldn't be normal to go through something like this and NOT become a different person. Will I ever be able to trust another person? I hope so...
*shakes magic 8 ball*
"Outlook does not look good."
I walked through the door and immediately my heart felt like it was giving out. I feel in shock. Here is the girl I fell in love with a year and a half ago, married in Nov, and separated in April. She apologized for being there and for a few extremely tense moments, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. To some degree or another, I always felt like I was walking with eggshells around her. Being around her was sometimes like walking through a mine-field. Today that feeling was magnified a thousand times over. I started to have a panic attack so she left.
She made some comment about how I wasn't able to look her in the eyes. I couldn't respond to that. It wasn't because I was angry at her, it wasn't even because I thought she was angry at me...it was because even though we're getting divorced, and even though the divorce was ultimately my decision...I still miss her immensely and I miss the kids. That's the most painful thing about all of this. It's like this...have you ever wanted something so bad but you ultimately knew that it was the last thing you needed...like say, a double-fudge chocolate icing with chocolate chip and snickers cake. You want to eat the damn thing but you know that if you do, you're going to die of a freaking heart attack.
I know that being with her is a mistake...for both of us. But my appetite is telling me "EAT!" So when I'm around her, I have to put up barriers to protect myself. I can't allow myself to be manipulated back into being with her.
I guess she got so frustrated over the fact that I wasn't responding to her abuse (sending me text messages at 2 a.m. to tell me that she just spent a couple hours with a few friends of mine from the local music scene and that they now think I'm a "fuck-face." She's also tried to destroy my reputation with other friends and so she's come to do the same with my mom.
I can't believe that all of this is happening. She's become some sort of stranger...and I suppose I have to. It wouldn't be normal to go through something like this and NOT become a different person. Will I ever be able to trust another person? I hope so...
*shakes magic 8 ball*
"Outlook does not look good."
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Social Anxiety
I've always suffered from some degree of social anxiety. I don't think I can trace it back to some humiliating experience or what...all I know is sometimes I can't handle being around people.
Now before you start making any assumptions that I'm some sort of socially awkward hermit, I have to explain that while I have social anxieties, I don't ALWAYS have social anxieties. I'm actually a pretty social person...when I'm not drowning in my insecurities. My mother would often tell me as a child that I had a high E.Q. = Emotional Quotiant. It was her way of trying to help me compensate for being insecure about my intelligence. My older brother is one of those super smart, computer programming techs and my sister was also a straight A, high ACT scoring student. Me...not so much. I was blessed with an annoyingly overactive mind that led me to pursuing unreachable dreams like being a pro athlete or rock star instead of pursuing an education.
My mother told me I had a high E.Q. because I was socially capable of conversing on the same level of adults from an early age...and I was a deeply interested friend. WAS being the operative word there. Since those young times, I have lost a lot of innocence and gained a lot of baggage. Now my E.Q. would probably be considered in the "special-needs" range.
So why am I bringing all of this up? Because today was my youngest brothers farewell. If you're reading this and wondering what a farewell is...well, in mormon culture males between the ages of 19-26 generally go on two-year missions. Most of the time, they leave when they're 19. For example, I went on a mission only four days after I turned 19. I spent two years in Oregon. My brother's spending two years in Hong Kong; I have to admit that I'm jealous that I didn't get to learn a language and get those sweet sweet sweet 18 language credits. But thats beside the point...on the final sunday before they leave, they'll usually speak in church and then return the home of the missionary for a social open house.
So this is where the social anxiety comes in. I'm not an active mormon, haven't been for several years. However, I felt I should support my brother and go to church and hear him talk. When I got there, I immediately started having a panic attack. The last time I saw most of the people that were in attendance was at my wedding six months ago. I couldn't handle the thought that they might ask me where my wife is or how married life is going or some other question I didn't want to hear, much less answer. Then I started having thoughts about all my extended family that would be in attendance and how, for most of them, the last time I saw them was also at the wedding. They would surely know that my wife and I had split...which only made things worse because now they will already have premeditated pity ready to splash on me like two teenagers in a pool ganging up on a nine year-old.
So as soon as my brother was finished with his talk, I bolted for the door. Because I knew that there would be kids and family over at the house following church, I decided to spend the entire day on the lamb. I walked around parks, writing in my notebook, saw The Soloist (which I might add wasn't as good as I thought it would be, got slow in parts, but was overall pretty good). I spent almost five hours just walking around UVU trying to write some poetry but really just trying to avoid going home.
And when I finally do go home once I felt it was reasonably safe to go home and avoid any social circumstances, my brother comes home with all of his friends and camps out right in front of my bedroom door. That was 7:30 and now its 12:30 a.m. and they're still there...just talking away like I'm not in my room at all, like I can't understand every goddamn thing they're saying. I don't know why but my social anxiety is so bad I can't muster enough confidence to leave my room. I'm trapped and dammit, I have to pee.
Now before you start making any assumptions that I'm some sort of socially awkward hermit, I have to explain that while I have social anxieties, I don't ALWAYS have social anxieties. I'm actually a pretty social person...when I'm not drowning in my insecurities. My mother would often tell me as a child that I had a high E.Q. = Emotional Quotiant. It was her way of trying to help me compensate for being insecure about my intelligence. My older brother is one of those super smart, computer programming techs and my sister was also a straight A, high ACT scoring student. Me...not so much. I was blessed with an annoyingly overactive mind that led me to pursuing unreachable dreams like being a pro athlete or rock star instead of pursuing an education.
My mother told me I had a high E.Q. because I was socially capable of conversing on the same level of adults from an early age...and I was a deeply interested friend. WAS being the operative word there. Since those young times, I have lost a lot of innocence and gained a lot of baggage. Now my E.Q. would probably be considered in the "special-needs" range.
So why am I bringing all of this up? Because today was my youngest brothers farewell. If you're reading this and wondering what a farewell is...well, in mormon culture males between the ages of 19-26 generally go on two-year missions. Most of the time, they leave when they're 19. For example, I went on a mission only four days after I turned 19. I spent two years in Oregon. My brother's spending two years in Hong Kong; I have to admit that I'm jealous that I didn't get to learn a language and get those sweet sweet sweet 18 language credits. But thats beside the point...on the final sunday before they leave, they'll usually speak in church and then return the home of the missionary for a social open house.
So this is where the social anxiety comes in. I'm not an active mormon, haven't been for several years. However, I felt I should support my brother and go to church and hear him talk. When I got there, I immediately started having a panic attack. The last time I saw most of the people that were in attendance was at my wedding six months ago. I couldn't handle the thought that they might ask me where my wife is or how married life is going or some other question I didn't want to hear, much less answer. Then I started having thoughts about all my extended family that would be in attendance and how, for most of them, the last time I saw them was also at the wedding. They would surely know that my wife and I had split...which only made things worse because now they will already have premeditated pity ready to splash on me like two teenagers in a pool ganging up on a nine year-old.
So as soon as my brother was finished with his talk, I bolted for the door. Because I knew that there would be kids and family over at the house following church, I decided to spend the entire day on the lamb. I walked around parks, writing in my notebook, saw The Soloist (which I might add wasn't as good as I thought it would be, got slow in parts, but was overall pretty good). I spent almost five hours just walking around UVU trying to write some poetry but really just trying to avoid going home.
And when I finally do go home once I felt it was reasonably safe to go home and avoid any social circumstances, my brother comes home with all of his friends and camps out right in front of my bedroom door. That was 7:30 and now its 12:30 a.m. and they're still there...just talking away like I'm not in my room at all, like I can't understand every goddamn thing they're saying. I don't know why but my social anxiety is so bad I can't muster enough confidence to leave my room. I'm trapped and dammit, I have to pee.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Drifting Cinder
Welcome to the lost letters of Drifting Cinder. I've created this blog solely because my life seems to consistently burn to the ground. So much so that I'm beginning to feel like drifting cinder, setting fire everywhere I go. Most recently...a month ago.
Despite the fact that nobody will likely read this blog, I don't feel like going into why my life burned to the ground a month ago. All I'm going to say right now is that my wife and I filed for divorce after five months of marriage.
So I'm mourning. And I don't have anyone to talk to. All of my friends live in other states and even then, there's only one person that I've ever felt comfortable opening up to and my ex-wife made me write her off before we got married. So she's gone.
Since I'm a creative writing student at UVU, I decided to create a blog devoted to my thoughts and perspectives. I don't intend on developing an audience, hence "lost letters." I just want to write. I used to blog a lot until I met my ex-wife...who, I met because she stumbled onto my blog and was impressed with my writing. After I met her, I was too busy being a step-father to three kids and being with her to blog. So I guess you could say I'm getting back to my roots.
I suppose I should introduce myself. I know that seems odd considering that I'm not intending on people actually reading this. However, I wouldn't be writing a blog if I didn't expect that at least someone would somehow stumble onto it. Plus, I'm just self-centered enough to admit that I enjoy talking about myself. And seeing how this blog is essentially a confessional, I'll likely say some embarrassing things...
...for example, lately when my self-esteem is running low and I desperately need a quick little pick-me-up, I'll play NCAA Football 2009. I created a player that shares my name and has the highest attribute points in every skill set. Then I make myself the Quarterback of BYU and I break every NCAA passing and rushing record. For about an hour a day I am the greatest athlete college football has ever had. I recognize the absurdity of this...especially since I hate video games...and especially especially since I played football in high school as wide receiver and defensive back. I had dreams of playing college football but was never able to accomplish anything in high school. My coach used to tell me "You have the potential to be a great player but for some reason you won't step up to it." He wasn't the only person whose said that to me. In fact, I might venture to say that theme has been thrown at me time and time again for the last 28 years. Back then, I was a lean 175 pounds. I could jump like a kangaroo and run like a cheetah. Now I'm an embarrassing 215 pounds. I'm lucky to get off the ground when I jump and sprinting isn't even an option anymore.
So how'd I go from being a sports obsessed athlete with the dream of breaking NCAA records to breaking imaginary NCAA records on a video game with a fictional character while I sit in a banana chair sipping down Dr Pepper's?
Well, I hope to find the answer too. Until then, these are the lost letters of Drifting Cinder.
***I take seroquel to sleep and I'm just too damn tired to check for grammatical and spelling errors.
Despite the fact that nobody will likely read this blog, I don't feel like going into why my life burned to the ground a month ago. All I'm going to say right now is that my wife and I filed for divorce after five months of marriage.
So I'm mourning. And I don't have anyone to talk to. All of my friends live in other states and even then, there's only one person that I've ever felt comfortable opening up to and my ex-wife made me write her off before we got married. So she's gone.
Since I'm a creative writing student at UVU, I decided to create a blog devoted to my thoughts and perspectives. I don't intend on developing an audience, hence "lost letters." I just want to write. I used to blog a lot until I met my ex-wife...who, I met because she stumbled onto my blog and was impressed with my writing. After I met her, I was too busy being a step-father to three kids and being with her to blog. So I guess you could say I'm getting back to my roots.
I suppose I should introduce myself. I know that seems odd considering that I'm not intending on people actually reading this. However, I wouldn't be writing a blog if I didn't expect that at least someone would somehow stumble onto it. Plus, I'm just self-centered enough to admit that I enjoy talking about myself. And seeing how this blog is essentially a confessional, I'll likely say some embarrassing things...
...for example, lately when my self-esteem is running low and I desperately need a quick little pick-me-up, I'll play NCAA Football 2009. I created a player that shares my name and has the highest attribute points in every skill set. Then I make myself the Quarterback of BYU and I break every NCAA passing and rushing record. For about an hour a day I am the greatest athlete college football has ever had. I recognize the absurdity of this...especially since I hate video games...and especially especially since I played football in high school as wide receiver and defensive back. I had dreams of playing college football but was never able to accomplish anything in high school. My coach used to tell me "You have the potential to be a great player but for some reason you won't step up to it." He wasn't the only person whose said that to me. In fact, I might venture to say that theme has been thrown at me time and time again for the last 28 years. Back then, I was a lean 175 pounds. I could jump like a kangaroo and run like a cheetah. Now I'm an embarrassing 215 pounds. I'm lucky to get off the ground when I jump and sprinting isn't even an option anymore.
So how'd I go from being a sports obsessed athlete with the dream of breaking NCAA records to breaking imaginary NCAA records on a video game with a fictional character while I sit in a banana chair sipping down Dr Pepper's?
Well, I hope to find the answer too. Until then, these are the lost letters of Drifting Cinder.
***I take seroquel to sleep and I'm just too damn tired to check for grammatical and spelling errors.
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