XXXI: Imaginative Epic Monologues

*tap, tap, tap…*

I’m supposed to type something here. I have plenty of random, worthless thoughts in my head but getting them organized to type is rather challenging I’m learning.

This week has been some funky, hazy experience of…well…I’m not really sure. From nightmares including astronauts exploding and having my eyes cut out with razor blades, to running to the point that my feet go numb (we’re sure that’s not normal) I’ve actually had a difficult time of separating reality from illusions of mental games.

Does that make sense? Continue reading


XO: Wandering Around

What on earth are we doing?

That was the question recently (this evening) posed to Darco in our living room. With ice on my feet, and a cat lurking along the couches, my wife and I have come to this strange paradox of the adult world…

We have no idea what to do.

The reality is that while we’re both very blessed with epic jobs; we find ourselves already in the routine of the standard, cultured sheep. We wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, drive home, work out, eat dinner, go to bed, repeat…

Every. Single. Day.

Dearest reader, please tell me that we’re the only two people on this entire globe that witness this strange sensational repetitiveness throughout the days? Even in my job, pouring through posts, tweets, and shares; the cycles are all the same. Monday is slow, the weekend is good for Client A, business is good Tuesday-Saturday for Client B, new ‘news’ for Client C is dropped publicly on Monday morning, etc…

You’re telling me; even in the ever-changing world of social media, there’s a pattern? This is why I stopped playing video games; I grew tired of the calculated, formulated, expected patterns that form within each piece of software.

When mankind less its ability to imagine, it welcomed in the ability to function in predictable cycles, and I am now one of them. Meal portions are weighed out, drinks are poured to their proper levels, bills are adjusted, prepped, and paid, and the alarm that’s set for seven days a week rarely, if ever, changes.

You can’t convince me that God intended His creation to live this way. Pinned up, programmed products of a cultural phenomenon that doesn’t condemn creativity, but assists in assuring that it doesn’t take place. Poets and painters have no reason to exist, and eventually handwriting will disappear completely. We don’t need to think, there’s drive-thru’s in place for us to do that instead.

My theory:
You have an imagination? Great, there’s an entire industry waiting for you to explore your possibilities and potentials. However, first you need to be sure to grab your four-year undergraduate diploma.
-Four Years Later-
Yes, you too have the proper documentation to fulfill the job requirements in this cubical for the rest of your life. If you work hard enough you too may be swayed by financial stability, and encouraged to finally put your dreams to rest.

Isn’t this what it’s all about in the end? CEO’s, board members, councils, and committees. Every move, action, idea, insult, and imaginative complex goes to benefit a few, for the harvesting of the many.

Am I really all that different? I type the day away to ensure that clients are happy; they’re happy by seeing a drop in costs and a raise in revenue. Darco works with coffee, selling a product to a consumer, in return for a wage that doesn’t match the job requirements, in order to benefit the shareholders of the organization that may or may not be in a semi-possible progress to monopolize an entire industry (thank goodness she’s got great dental insurance though). We’re bound by the ‘necessities of life’ within the confines of our daily atmosphere that in many cases we miss the fact that we’re only pieces on someones game board.

Perhaps I just drank too much coconut milk tonight, and these words aren’t my own. Maybe I didn’t get enough endorphin’s this evening and it’s allowing my brain to stir.

Maybe it’s just the fact that I have a hard time accepting a reality that I would be ashamed to go before my Father and say, “This is what I’ve done with the time and skills that You’ve given me”.

Maybe it’s just me.


XO: Off Target

Realistically I could take this moment to blame the soccer world.
Frankly, I could also blame the social media network that I routinely get lost in.

Who am I kidding?

It’s my fault. Continue reading

Mobile Minutes: Towel Throwing

My shirts don’t fit.
I look like garbage.
I’m a has been, wanna be educator.
I’m barely a business owner.
I don’t sleep.
My neck chronically hurts.
I argue.
I’m bitter.
I feel worthless.

What? Did you want some happy, warm fuzzy pep talk? The reality is, is that I deal with inner demons just like everyone else. I don’t blame God, I don’t blame, I take upon myself my failures…all of them.

Maybe that guy from Stackify was right. No one really cares, no matter how hard you work, no one cares. It’s never enough, and it never will be enough.

Confession time. I enjoy putting my demons in front of the public. I have this never ending concept that God punishes me. I screw up and just like a parent, I’m punished. Hearing people talk about a God who is so powerful that He doesn’t need you in order to be glorified leaves a horrible taste in my mouth. What I hear is a God who is all powerful, doesn’t need you, and my life reflects nothing but constant punishment. That’s it, nothing more. Don’t worry I know what scripture says, and I know what I’m taught, and I know what my soul screams as truth. That doesn’t block out the negativity, the fear of isolation, the temptation that I’m merely tolerated, not really wanted.

I work my tail off every single day, so that I can dream of one day hearing, “Well done my good and faithful servant”, but works mean nothing right? It’s obedience, it’s faith, it’s love. It’s the things that I beat myself daily in order to obtain only to realize each day is only a new struggle of trying to hold everything together…and failing.

It’s a catch 22; there’s nothing you can do to “earn” love, but at the same time even if I’m faithful, bold, and take the hits…I’ll still suffer on this earth.

Make sense?

Mean either.

I’d never turn my back on God, it would be foolish because I’ve witnessed Him do so much for so many. I’ve seen miracles all around and lives changed. I’ve accepted the impossible and prayed for the unknown. But deep down, if I’m being horribly, brutally honest; it feels like when God gets to me He doesn’t have anything left to give. Sure, that’s a foolish notion considering His grace and love is abundant and never ending, but that doesn’t mean I don’t “hear” otherwise.

Perhaps it’s a childhood complex, a repeatative fear that my father forgot that I existed.

Just as a final thought; anyone who comes at me with a deniable sense of righteousness is a fool. Anyone who denies these fears themselves ever crossing their own mind, I question if you’ve ever lived. You better believe I have anger issues. I yell at God, beg for forgiveness, and try to see His perspective for my life. I never understand, it’s God, I can’t understand. Sometimes that hurts more than anything else of spiritual wrought.

If this site was full of perfection, it wouldn’t be worth reading.

I’m not a plastic.