The power of love

We want it all, everything we see, everywhere, anywhere, our desire knows no bounds. Yet that is what makes us so dangerous, that is what makes us so deadly, so noble, so dependable. We know no boundaries, we seek no finish line. Our pure goal is completion. We don't wait for it to come to us, we go out and we find it. The human heart sets no limits and the human spirit knows no perimeters. Beneath our shell of skin and bones stirs a force more powerful than we could ever imagine, more dangerous than we can fathom. It dwells in the depths, nurtured by our heart and our spirit, and stirred only through our selfless passion. 

This is the force that motivates us to work that extra job, to run that extra mile, or spend that extra hour helping someone else. In the big picture its the force that causes a man to disregard all aspects of selfish human nature and throw himself in harms way to protect another. This force isn't jealousy, it isn't anger or hatred, this force is love. A love for someone else that can only be expressed through our willingness to sacrifice a part of ourselves, our lives, in order to make them better. The most noble of examples that we find on a daily basis is in our parents. Their willingness to go the extra mile in the office and at home. However, parents like that are few and far between these days. Fathers have replaced fatherly advice and quality time with money. They have pawned off role modelling to actors and athletes, in order to pursue their own goals and dreams. 

So why have parents so eagerly spurned their parental duties? Is it easier putting in time at work, or at the gym, or at the nail salon, than to spend the time at home? Their is no better a way to each someone than through examples, but now we live in an age where parents say, "do as I say, not as I do." My time in the military has taught me that to be an effective leader you must never as someone to do something that you are not willing to do yourself. Because of that fact of leadership, much to my parents dismay, I got the latin quote, 'ductus exemplo' tattoed on my right side, meaning 'leadership by example.' My belief is that no matter what walk of life I am in, in my career, at home, leadership by example must be my motto. 

In a country controlled and guided by music and video (TV, youtube, movies, etc...) fathers have opted out of the hard talks, just as one might decide not to do the dishes one day, fathers have decided that they no longer want to mentor their kids through life. We live in a culture plagued by the adult industry, sex is casual at 15, and porn is the new sex ed for middle schoolers. Yet fathers and mothers continually shy away from the hard conversations, the awkward conversations, and the uncomfortable conversations. 

What happened to fathers being the head of the household? Not because we are men, but because every morning we wake up and claim that right. We claim that right through what we say and what we do. We claim that right because we spend more time on our knees asking for wisdom and guidance than we do on our feet. We claim that right because we are the last to go to bed and the first to get up, because every day we wage war on behalf of our families. Fathers are not the head of the household because we are better than women. Fathers are the head because they fight, they protect, they defend, and above all, they love. They love through their words, through their actions, and through their thoughts. 

Change

Its a thing of beauty the way our mind processes things. Each person sees things differently, we all have a different perspective, a different view, a unique view. Yet somehow in all of the chaotic differences we are able to find a middle ground. We're able to find a perspective that makes sense to all of us, well, most of us. We are able to compromise, sacrifice, and reason in order to come to an answer.

But what do we do when we can't find that answer? What do we do when we compromise and sacrifice so much that we no longer know where we started to begin with. How do we reason when we don't even know what perspective we had to begin with. We've all been there. We've all been so caught up in a situation that when we look back we can't trace our footsteps to the beginning. There are three things that happen at this point. We panic, and get lost even more than we were before trying to find our way back. We become angry and bitter toward the situation and blame it for our confusion, or lastly, we stop, we allow the situation to pass us by, and we start a new beginning, because we realize that even if we can trace our steps back to where we were before, nothing will be the same, because we have changed.

Change is an incredible art, its a majestic idea, it allows for a fresh start, it re-ignites passion, and re-inspires the mind, but we don't normally like change. We don't like trying something new, or trusting something we don't know. We like to say we have faith, but there is no truer test of our faith than change. And many times, our faith fails us.

Change scares us because with change comes ideas and people that we can't predict or anticipate. Change brings new things, things that require time and effort to get to know and understand, and many of us are to worn out to invest in something that scares us. Change isn't all that bad. Change means new steps, a new beginning, a fresh beginning. But, change requires faith, because change is a test from God. Change is God.  

Fathers Day

Today is a day for Dad's. Some of us grew up in a family with the "ideal" dad, some of us grew up in a family without a dad, and some of us grew up in a family where our dad was our worst enemy. But no matter what our situation is, we all have a father. I don't believe that its blood that defines who that father is. I believe its what they teach us and how they teach us that defines a dad. 

I can't wait to be a father. I can't wait until I can look into the eyes of a child knowing that everything I say and do he or she will emulate. It is a daunting task, it is a tough challenge. But the inspiration that comes with knowing you are responsible for teaching and raising a child that you made is beyond comprehension. There is a great power that comes with being a father, one that can either make or break a child. 

My father taught me how to be a man. He didn't do this through hunting or through sports. In some ways I guess you could say that his ways were slightly unconventional. My dad taught me that its okay to cry, he showed me how to have a warriors heart, but not to run over someone. I grew up seeing my dad as a military veteran and a big city paramedic/fireman, who has saved more lives then he would ever admit to. But the thing that made my dad special wasn't necessarily what he did, it wasn't the stories that he would tell. It was his ability to convey an attitude of selflessness and portray a servants heart without needing to boast on what he had done. 

Its hard to sit here and imagine or try and understand all of the sacrifices that my dad willingly made to benefit me. I know that someday as a father I will understand the frustration, heartache, joy, pride, and many many other feelings that come with being a parent. However, until then all I can do is say thank you and do everything in my power to honor my father. To dad's  across the world thank you, thank you for everything that you have done and continue to do for your kids. We may never fully know everything that you've given for us. 

And to my friends I would encourage you to read this article. Who wouldn't want to be remembered as a great dad? http://www.teamrubiconusa.org/dans-gift/

Memorializing a belief.

Something designed to preserve, honor, and remember the memory of a person or an event, either as a monument or a holiday... A memorial. There is no day that we can designate, no statue we could erect, or ceremony we can hold that would truly honor the memory of the hundreds of thousands of men and women who have so selflessly given their lives in defense of our country. Our words will never be enough, and our money will never fill the holes in the hearts of those that held them dear, the only way that we can begin to preserve and honor those who have gone and fallen before us is through our actions.

 It started nearly 250 years ago. It was nothing more than a belief, an idea, which sprouted into hope for something more. Hope for a place where sex didn't differentiate, a place where race was nothing more than an accent or a color, and a place where everyone would have an opportunity to succeed. Eventually this idea was born, it started on paper, and was ultimately forged through the blood of hundreds of thousands of men and women. They were all dedicated to the same thing, this idea, this belief and hope that we could be something great. Its a belief that puts faith in who we can be, not just who we are. A belief that is recognized through the blood of its defenders.

Over the years this belief has been preserved, from the hills of Gettysburg, to the sands of Iwo Jima, the beaches of Normandy, and most recently the streets of Baghdad and mountains of Afghanistan. Through these conflicts men and women have risen up to uphold that belief. They've rallied to uphold it for our sons and daughters, our brothers and sisters, and for men and women throughout the world who do not have anyone willing to stand up and defend that belief for them. Spider-man was once told that with great power comes great responsibility, obviously this was in reference to his spidey senses and ability to swing from building to building. But with great power does come great responsibility, and we have a great power. It isn't in our nuclear weapons, it isn't in our ships, it isn't in our hundreds of thousands of servicemen and women, nor even in our clandestine operations. Our great power stems from our ability to resist evil, our ability to bring about change without violence. It comes from the fact that we can inspire others to hope and strive for that belief.

Like some of you I have lost brothers and sisters to that belief, and as I sit here writing this tonight many of my closest friends from the Marine Corps are deployed in combat zones, right now, defending that belief. I wish that this weekend I could kick back and relax, and I probably will enjoy a beer or two, but it will be with a heavy heart. A heart that is burdened with the sacrifices of so many who felt it was their duty to safeguard that belief. As we remember on this memorial day, lets remember their families. The husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters. Always remember, and never forget.

Perfect.

There is nothing more frustrating for a writer than having something to say, but not knowing how to say it. You think of every possible way you could word it, or every way you could start the post or the story but it just doesn't quite work. But the magic, the magic when it clicks, takes away all of that frustration that it had caused before. 

We are always looking for the right thing to say, the thing that will just blow someone's mind, stop their heart, or cause them to melt it our arms. We're constantly waiting for 'perfect'. But have you ever wondered how much we miss by sitting around waiting for perfect? Perfect doesn't exist inside of this world. There has only been one perfect thing to ever walk this earth and that was God himself. So why do we so vehemently and constantly chase something that is in all ways impossible for us to achieve? We chase it because that's what we've been told to do. Girls chase perfect beauty because that's what they've been told they need in order to get attention. Men and women chase perfect sex in a relationship because that's what they think makes a marriage, except in reality marriage makes the sex, not the other way around. These fleeting pursuits of perfection are never ending, and its rather ironic because in our attempt to achieve the perfect happiness we settle for miserableness while we chase something that doesn't exist. 

This One is for You

Everyday is an adventure. Maybe not the kind that involves surviving in the wilderness or backpacking across Europe, but its all a matter of perspective right? What if, instead of waking up everyday and dreading what would happen, dreading what we would have to do, what if we viewed everyday for what is...an unwritten book, a clean slate, a new story to be told.

Every morning we wake up, we do the same routine, eat the same thing for breakfast, pack the same thing for lunch, and go to work at the same place. At first its nothing more than routine. But eventually it becomes a habit and in turn that becomes a lifestyle, and before we know it we are sleepwalking through life. We're hoping the chores will do themselves, or that dinner will be fixed when we get home. We forget about birthday and anniversaries, and we start expecting other people to do more for us than we do for them. In turn the excitement goes away, the passion fades, and life essentially has no more meaning.

We settle with this outcome for two reasons, one - its the easy way, and two - it deadens the pain. It makes us numb to the beating of betrayal or heartbreak. It takes the sting out of words, slows the tears of loss, and reduces our feeling of worry, giving us a false sense of comfort. Yet, in accepting these two reasons we also allow it to suck the passion and desire from marriage, the care and love from our families, and the excitement from the small day to day things that make life what it is. You see, without all of these things, without the appreciation for the little things, what do we have? What reasons do we have to live? If we never allow life to be enough, then we will spend all of our time in constant agony over what is missing instead of cherishing what is there.

Untold

"Hail the King of the Jews!" They cried, as they spit on him and beat him repeatedly. The crack of the whip echoed off of the stone walls, the air smelled of fresh blood, as his cries were drowned out by the chants of the multitudes as they grew louder and louder. You could see the strain in his face, veins bulging on his forehead as he knelt down to pick up the cross. With a great cry he heaved and lifted it to his shoulder, his knees nearly gave way as the whip cracked across his back once more, the rock and metal gouging deep into his skin. All the way up the hill the beatings continued as he struggled under the weight of the cross. Yet there he climbed, one foot in front of the other, the savior of the world, carrying more than just the weight of a tree on his back.

His steps became shorter, his breath more rapid as he hesitated and paused, trying to catch his breath. Once again the whips cracked ripping through what little flesh was left on his back. "Here, grab him!" ordered one of the soldiers as he pointed to a man in the crowd. Simon slowly stepped from the crowd and heaved the cross off of Jesus's shoulders as our God collapsed beneath a string of beatings and curses.

I could see everything from my hiding spot as I sat perched on the rooftop, going from house to house trying oh so desperately to keep my eyes on my King. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as I watched Jesus collapse and cry out in pain as his body begged him to stop. But I could see it in his eyes, the resolve, the determination. He knew what had to be done, he knew what he needed to do, he knew that his time to drink from the cup had come. His eyes shown bright, not one specific color, but a radiation of colors as he stood up once more. Everything seemed to pause as his gaze shifted heavenward. A small tear trickled down his right cheek. He didn't beg or plead, he simply looked, resolved, it was almost as if he was taking a moment to just acknowledge his Father. And just like that he lowered his eyes and looked back up the hill, towards the place they called Golgotha, meaning the place of the skull.

The road up the hill was littered with the bones and remains of thieves and murderers left crucified, their remains a meal for local dogs and birds. As they reached the top of the hill two soldiers took the cross from Simon and laid it down at the foot of a small hole. I watched, mortified, as they forced a mixture of vinegar and water into his mouth. They stripped him of his rob, leaving him only a cloth around his waist as they grabbed his arms and positioned across the cross. Something in my mind told me to look away. A small voice within begged me not to watch, but I knew that I had to. I knew that if I looked away now, then I would always turn my back. I knew that if I didn't have it in me now to watch the savior of mankind murdered then I would never have the strength to follow him.

The crowd grew quiet as one of the soldiers reached down, picking out three long nails. By this point everyone watched, wondering what the King of the Jews would do once his flesh was pierced. The soldiers kneel'd next to his body, one on each arm and one at his feet, holding him down, bracing for a struggle. Tears flooded my eyes as I watched the soldier position a nail, he raised the hammer in slow motion, and in one strike he changed the course of the world forever. His cry pulsed through the air, echoing off of rocks and penetrating the very depths of everyone's souls who watched. He didn't struggle, he couldn't, he knew it would serve no purpose. Once again I watched as his gaze strained towards heaven, his eyes reflecting its light. I could only imagine what he was seeing. His screams pierced the air twice more as the sound of hammer striking nail reverberated through the mountains.

As they began to see the work finished the crowd slowly started to disperse. The soldiers heaved the cross upwards as it sank into the crowd. I didn't even notice the screams of the two thieves, my attention solely on my Lord as I watched his breath become shallower with every exhale.

Spinning Circles

I've never been so scared. Scared of letting go, scared of moving on, scared of discovering, scared of change and of trying new things. I'm so lost that it isn't even believable. So lost that I can't even figure out where to start. I am so lost, that I'm not actually sure if I even want to be found, so broken I'm not even sure if I want to be fixed.

I'm sitting here watching as life goes flying by, and it feels like there is never enough time. Never enough time to see my family, never enough time to spend with my friends. Never enough time to spend learning, or trying new things, or cherishing old memories.

Its hard accepting the reality that I will always make mistakes. That I will always do something wrong, that no matter how hard I work, how much I pray, I will always fall short. In more ways than one its disheartening. It makes me look toward the future and ask, "what is the point?"

Father, heal me. Show me the areas in my heart that I need to take back. Reveal to me the places in my mind that I let go, and give me the courage and fortitude to reclaim them for you. I understand that the first step in forgiving others is forgiving myself. I ask that you help me to understand forgiveness as you demonstrate it to us. Allow me to heal my heart with forgiveness as well as the hearts of those around me. Thank you for the Warrior that you have made me, help me to recognize the battles that are worth fighting. 

Finding a Way Back.

We all say we won't get to that point, we all make promises to ourselves assuring us that whatever it is we won't allow it to change us or make us any different. But still, no matter how hard we fight, no matter how tough we battle, we change, as time goes by, we become different.

I sat alone, it was becoming quite a regularity these days. Not necessarily the alone lonely type sitting, but more of the alone contemplating sitting. I was searching my mind for something, something that was lost, some sort of answer or explanation. I was searching for that part of me that had ever so slowly withered away. I almost couldn't remember what it was actually like. After all of the I love you's, all of the promises, all of the little pieces of my heart that I had given away here I was...struggling to remember what it was in the first place that inspired me, gave me strength, faith, and courage to even do those things in the first place.

I've reached a point where I can't tell if I don't trust other people or if I simply don't trust myself. I know exactly what I did to get to this place, but I just don't know how to get back. The easy way is to not try and figure out how to go back, the easy way is to just try and pickup where you left off and go with what you have. But I'm not sure anymore if that is the best way, and I know that if I keep taking the easy way out then I won't be able to handle any type of hardship.

I'm so locked in to what I'm used to that I don't want to step out. I don't want to try anything knew because of what it could do to me. I don't want to trust anyone else because of how they could hurt me. I don't know what to expect. The worst part about all of this is that I can picture it in my mind. I know exactly what I used to be like, I know exactly how I've changed, and I want nothing more than to take those areas of my mind and heart back to those places that they were before, to those times when I wasn't afraid to do something thoughtful or sweet, where I wasn't always worried about getting hurt.

I had seen it all along, it was right in front of my face but I had just continued to ignore it. How could I fall in love with something I couldn't see? The saying, "seeing is believing" had become all to real in my life. I had begun living my life by faith through sight. The weird thing though wasn't that I hadn't been seeing it, it was that I had been seeing it all along, I just hadn't recognized it for what it was.

All of those beautiful things I saw every day. The smile from a stranger, the helping hand from one person to another, the undefinable passion seen in someone's eyes unwilling to give up, the determination of someone who hasn't slept in two days, and the love that can only been seen in the eyes of one human to another. All of these things stood out to me. They stood out as beautiful things, as wonderful things, but I never saw them as from the creator. I never saw them as his way of communicating with me.

God is in everything that we see, and if that's so, why don't we always see him? Because it isn't always the God that we want to see. I don't want to see God in the pain in my life because it hurts, because its hard to see what good God could be bringing out of it because its painful, and our minds would tell us that there isn't anything good to come of it.

Father, today I ask that you help me to see everything as from you, the good and the bad. Help me to resist immediately and not to allow the enemy a foothold in my heart or in my mind. Show me that every door that you close, you will open another. I thank  you for the opportunities that you have given me for, I thank you for your mercy and for allowing me to have second chances in my life. I beg that you help me to remain humble to your name, and give me the strength that I need to fight this fight. Amen.

Destroying a Warrior heart, with a Warrior mind.

I looked away deep in thought, and then I quickly looked back at the screen trying to make my decision. Did I dare do it? Would it work? Would it change everything forever? I was scared, I was nervous. My heart raced and my hands shook from the adrenaline that was now pulsing through my veins. I swore I wouldn't, I swore that I couldn't, but here I was. I watched as my hands moved across the screen in slow motion, and then it was done. Before I could contemplate what had just happened it was to late. Now I could only pray that I was man enough to step up, now I could only hope that the Warrior heart inside of me remained strong enough for one more battle.

"No one cares," they would tell us. Over and over and over again. They said that "the faster we accept the fact that no one cares about us, the easier all of this would be." You shake it off at first, you think to yourself, "no, that isn't true, my family cares, or my wife cares, or my girlfriend cares." Everyone could think of someone that they were sure cared. But after a while without even realizing it, you start to believe it. You start to accept it as truth, that no one cares, that no one ever has, and that no one ever will. And then you dig in deep. You drag your mind down to a place where it will see nothing but what is in front of you, to a place where you're surrounded only by the men to your left and right, a place where feelings are nothing and surviving is everything. Its weird at first, but after a while it goes from a mindset to a reality and no matter how hard you try you can't shake it. You start to hate everything around you, why? Because everything sucks, and if it doesn't suck, then you know something is wrong. Welcome to the life of a grunt, a life where we are taught to love to hate our lives.

After a while you get to a place in your mind where if everything around you doesn't suck or isn't hard, then something must be wrong. So you get paranoid, and you remind yourself that no one cares, and you start searching for every possible thing that could go wrong, and in some cases, you make it go wrong, just so that once more you can hate your life. Just so that once more you can believe that nothing is wrong, because everything sucks.

I'll never forget how I felt when I stepped off the plane. I was done with my training and I was so happy to be back in Texas. Finally I had freedom, finally I was out of that wretched-Marine-hating state and back to my home. I felt on top of the world. I was a Marine, and an infantry Marine at that. A born and bread pure devil dog killer. But here I was back in society. The first two weeks were like leave, it was great to be home, it was relaxing, but that's when things started going down hill. I went from going 200 miles per hour to nothing. I would pace back and forth in my parents house begging for someone to do something. I was the first one up, and the last one to bed. But the longer I was home the harder it got. Eventually that feeling of leave left me, and I realized that I was home for good, and that I was alone. And I started to realize that no one cared, no one cared what I did, no one cared what I had been through, and no one cared what I might have to go through. I know this wasn't the case, but because I believed it so intently, it became my reality, and I became bitter. I resented everyone I talked to because I knew that they had no idea what I had experienced and I knew most of them never would, and because of that reason I automatically assumed that they didn't care and that they never would care.

I was so hateful. I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but I judged everything I saw, and anytime someone made a mistake I was like a shark that smelled blood. And I was merciless, because I was no longer Jesse Carr the home schooled kid. I was now Jesse Carr the trained killer. Not only had I spent six months having "kill, kill, kill them all" beaten into my head. I had spent two of those months at one of the finest and most intense basic infantry schools in the world. I was being shaped, molded, and formed into a machine that would shoot first and ask later, that would die without hesitation in order to accomplish the mission.

As my days home progressed everything just built up. I was miserable because I felt like no cared, much less understood how I was feeling. I was alone, the only man of my type and I was stuck with a bunch of "gross and nasty civilians."

And like most stories it took a harsh awakening for me to realize what was happening. It took me losing the one thing I cared most about, it took me hardening my heart towards God and turning my back on everything and everyone in my life before I finally woke up and saw what was happening. And that's were I found myself now. Alone, struggling to repair countless relationships that I had inadvertently not just ruined, but completely destroyed. I found myself standing in a room, I was alone, I was empty. Everything that I had once held dear was gone, and that passion, that inspiration that burns deep in your heart to do things, to succeed, well, it was nonexistent.

My Warrior's mind was ever present, like any well trained Marine, but my Warrior's heart was bloodless, lifeless, because I had cut off the people and the God who nurtured it, who inspired it, and who gave it life.

My bones were so brittle and my hollow shell of an excuse of a body could barely move, but I knew that if I didn't move now, then I would never move. I knew that if I didn't start somewhere, I would never start.

What is perspective?

Some days all we need is a different perspective, someone to show us how to look at something a little bit differently than what we are used to. Many times this different perspective will change how we view someone or a situation, but even that isn't enough sometimes.

How is it that someone can be so selfish? How do we throw out complete disregard for someone else and how they feel, or think, or look just to meet our own needs. I don't understand how someone can look so deeply into themselves that they lose all focus of whats going on around them. It makes no sense how people can go day to day and ignore the heartache and suffering that walks past us, that surrounds us, that riddles us. Every day there is someone else with a new struggle, and sometimes all they need is a helping hand, a generous heart, or a warm smile. Some days all they need is to know that in this lonely world there is someone else out there that sees them and that actually believes in them. We want so badly to turn everything inward and to focus only on ourselves. But the truth is, is that there are people out there who aren't as strong as us. There are people out there who want to survive but don't know how, people who want the answers that some of us have, and who are we decide whether or not we should help them.

If we can for one second look beyond ourselves we would see not what the world has to offer us, but what we have to offer the world. It won't always be something great or marvelous because that is left up to perspective. But it might be great or marvelous to that person in need.

What are these?

My best guess is that its something we can't control, something we can't decided or dictate. It's just this feeling we have, this connection that forms like a bond, and every now and then we are lucky enough for that connection to be formed both ways, and out of that connection blossoms a beautiful friendship that grows into something that cannot be explained. It grows into something that can only be experienced, and through that experience comes a wealth of fond memories and cherish-able moments. You see, these are the things are should be thankful for, those moments of pure joy, pure happiness. Without them what would we be?

Just as its those connections that inspire a passion in us that can't be replicated by any other, it is those lack of connections that can drag us to our lowest points as human beings. Some of us will refuse to admit that we need them, and some of us will go through life spending all our time convincing ourselves that we don't need them. But the truth is, is that we do need that connection. We need that connection to reassure us, to believe in us, and to trust us, and without that connection we are alone, we are by ourselves, and we wonder around day by day wondering if what we are doing is right, wondering if what we are doing has any type of purpose whatsoever.

When we lose those connections it creates within us a chasm, a hole, gaping and mocking us that no matter how hard we try and fill it, we will never replace it. Everyone of these connections is to be valued, cherished, and remembered, simply because in the blink of an eye it could be gone, and we may or may not ever have one like it again.

Breathless

It felt like someone had sucked all of the oxygen out of the air and that no matter where I went, I couldn't catch my breath. I tried everything, different food, different people, different music, but nothing. No matter how hard I tried I was breathless all the time, I was drowning, and I reached the point where I no longer knew why. When you reach that point in your life you find yourself asking questions you didn't know existed. You find yourself in a place that you never thought possible, and in that moment you don't know what to be more scared of. The fact that you are there, or the fact that you don't know what to do. Some people understand that place only because they've been there before. But it still doesn't answer my question, am I here because I've allowed my own weight to drag me down? Or am I here because I've allowed the weight of other people around me to pull me under?

It seems like the answer should be simple enough, but we all know that it isn't. And so once again we find ourselves at this place where we are wondering what the world has to offer us and what we have to offer the world. We wonder what the difference is between the "right" decision and the "best" decision, and better yet, we wonder if there is even a "better" decision. Some days its easier to believe in things, to see that mixture of faith and hope and use it to propel yourself forward. And other days you just find yourself wondering if you've reached the dividing line between fantasy and reality, dream and fairy tale, possible and impossible.

Life is, without a doubt, what we make it. But for some of us that comes easier than others. Because some people are able to turn their focus inwards, some people are able to forget about the pain and heartache that they are surrounded by, and yes, those some people are able to then move forward with their lives, solely focused on themselves. Some would call that selfishness, others would simply refer to it as drive or success. But out there, there remains a handful of people who are able to rise above and carry those things with them. That handful are able to take responsibility outside of themselves and continue forward. Is it because they dream? Is it because they believe in achieving the impossible? Or maybe its because they refuse to focus all of their energy inwardly. I don't really know...All I know is that I'm still here, and I'm still drowning. No matter what I think, no matter what I dream, I still wake up in the same place, breathless and struggling to survive. 

The Four

"Not one, not two, not three, but four.
They rose above, their names were forevermore.
Powerful, majestic, and glorious.
They rose, they flew, with furious wings they flew.
He called them out, not one, not two, not three, but four.
The trumpet sounded, their names forevermore.

A midst the darkness their wings carried them.
Furious, glorious.
The trumpet was their signal, but death was their calling.
It summoned them up, on their wings, oh so furious.
And as they rose, their wings of flame, he spoke out, and called their name.
Not one, not two, not three, but four, the Creator called them, forevermore.
Their time had come, to enact his judgement.
So here they stood, powerful, majestic, and glorious.

To the earth they went, their wings of fury flying high.
Death had called them, demanding its price.
So here they descended, on their wings of fury, they fell from the sky.
And those below, beheld them all.
As the powerful four, answered his call.
To judgement, to judgment, it rang in their ears.
With the death that they brought, the sentencing done.
And tears were shed, for what couldn't be undone.

As quick as they rose, just like that they were gone.
Not one, not two, not three, but four.
We whispered their names forevermore.
The judgment was passed, their duty was done.
Until they would be called again, by the only son."

Letting go

I struggled to keep my eyes open, at this point at night even the soreness that cursed through my body wasn't keeping me awake, and neither was the constant nagging and yelling from the front post. I had gotten used to it, the banging on the armory, and the yelling. Some nights it would even make me laugh, almost as comic relief, depending upon which recruit was standing front post. It was always the worst position to have during fire watch, you were the lookout, and the messenger, and not killing the messenger wasn't something drill instructors believed in. I crossed my legs as I lay in my rack, a ritual I did every night. I don't know if it was to keep warm, or maybe if it was just for comfort. I always looked forward to those minutes right after TAPS, and right between total exhaustion taking over my body. It was the one time during our long days that I was allowed to relish in my own thoughts, a time when I could reminisce about home, let my guard down for a little while, and dream about what I would do with my freedom when I was finally done. It was in those moments that I truly began to understand what it was like to be alone with my thoughts. Never before in my life had I been so stripped of my identity, of everything that I thought I knew, and everything I thought I believed, because there, the only thing I believed was that God was real...and the only thing I knew, was that graduation was the fastest place out of that hell they called the 'depot'. In those moments at night, with the bittersweet notes of TAPS setting the mood, I would lay in bed and pray. I'd pray for myself, my fellow recruits, my girlfriend at the time, my family, friends, basically anything that crossed my mine. And right before I fell asleep I'd take myself to one of the sweetest moments I could remember, a time with my siblings, a time with my girlfriend, or a time with good friends. More often or not the girlfriend won out, simply because those memories at the time were the ones that made me the happiest. You see, it was in those moments, right before I fell asleep, in those prayers, that I found myself closer to God than I had ever been in my entire life. It was when I found myself in an environment where everything I believed was torn away from me, where everything I had been taught was stripped clean, and I was starting anew.

But, of course, over time I walked away from that closeness. It was a mixture of my invincibility mindset as a Marine, and tests and trials by the one and only. I never for once doubted my belief in God, but I definitely started putting more faith in my own control over my life versus his. Slowly but surely I started hardening my heart. I quit praying, quit going to church, and I quit doing all of the small things that fed my spiritual life. Why? Simply because I wanted to get back at the people who had hurt me, and naturally, because those people represented an area of Christianity that I didn't agree with, I made the ignorant decision of sacrificing my relationship with Christ for revenge, retribution, and retaliation. In a way I was trying to say that they wouldn't control my life, so I acted out, but in doing so I let them control my life anyways, simply because I thought I was right, and I wanted oh so desperately to be right. Life is brutal in the fact that history always repeats itself, but its humiliating in the fact that we allow it to run its course. It is the pure definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. 

I wish I could say that I have never been in this situation before, and in a few ways I have not, but in several ways I have. The thing that makes it the worst is that fact that I can sit back and see the progression, as things went from good, to bad, to worse, and then even worse. I have always taken pride in having an answer for everything, even if it wasn't the right answer, I could always come up with some sort of solution. I don't know if this was because I've always been a decisive person, or maybe because of the way I view my relationship with God, or just my overall confidence in myself. Either way, I suddenly found myself in a situation where I had no answers, no confidence, and my heart was so broken and hardened, that I refused to grant the one person access to it that could heal it, and make it whole again. During those many moments of boot camp and infantry school, when I truly discovered what I was made of and everything I am capable of, I learned more about myself and my relationship with God, then I have ever learned anywhere else. I didn't learn this through church, I didn't learn it through scripture memory, or constant bible reading, or praise and worship services. I learned in through the two utmost things that Christ came to earth to teach us; service, and sacrifice.

I'm still angry, so very angry, and I have so many questions that I know will probably never be answered, and so many things that I will probably never get an explanation for. So everyday as I try and move forward, as I try and sleep in the bed that I made so to speak, I push those questions from my mind, I bury that anger, and I ever so slowly try and let it go and let God. It really doesn't amaze me that somehow God always finds a way to come back into the center of my life, and rightly it shouldn't. I guess I've held out for so long because I've been angry. I've been angry towards the people who wronged me, who hurt me, and who betrayed me, and once again I allowed those feelings to dictate what I thought, how I acted, and what I did. But I don't know... I don't know why I can't let all of this go. I don't know why its such a big deal, why I'm still holding on. Everyday it haunts me, and everyday I question myself, and I don't know if that's because it was the wrong choice, or if that's just part of the process. 

Who is death?

I put one foot in front of the other, slowly but surely, they were determined. If you could have seen behind the concealment of my pant legs you would have seen my trembling knees. I was barely maintaining my balance. My eyes made evident that it had been a moving service, most everyone could understand the feelings behind the tears, even though they didn't know for who they cried, they still flowed. I couldn't make sense of the feelings. I couldn't understand the senseless deaths, and the loss of such innocent people. Yet there stood the reaper, ever present, haunting the shadows, waiting to steal someone away from us. He always managed to steal the good one's, someone how his fiery eyes always found the ones that mattered most. And once they were in his sinister grip they were lost forevermore, never to return. Most people can't see him...But I do. I see him in every corner, in every room. He lurks, waiting to snatch life away. Waiting to suck what little hope we have left, waiting to snuff out what little light remains in our lives. However, sometimes I think he almost does us a service. We truly never know what we have until its gone, and sometimes in those moments of loss, of sorrow, we are allowed to see things for how genuine they are. The tears of a child having lost a father, the wails of a mother who's lost a son, and the silent breaking heart of the husband who's lost a wife. In those moments we are allowed to see a part of life that is pure, that is vulnerable, and that is honest. At that instance, nothing else matters. Nothing else remains, except the brutality of it all. And there we are left, the yearning for our lost ones still in our heart, and the confusion still  in our mind. 

What is beautiful?

Beauty in life isn't defined by looks, it isn't owned only by colors, or attraction, or wonder. Sometimes the most beautiful things that life has to offer are moments. A child's first words, the stellar performance of an ice skating couple at the Olympics that brings together years of hard work and dedication, the smile of a hero who sacrificed their life for someone else, or the innocence found in a child's eyes. Beauty in life is found within passion, the desire to work so hard for something that you have nothing left to give. Beauty is found in those moments when we are empty...when we have laid it on the line, put ourselves out there, in an attempt to prove something. Sometimes to prove someone wrong, and sometimes to prove someone right. Unfortunately not everyone has the opportunity to experience that beauty. You see, not everyone has those moments where they work so hard for something that they know they have earned it. Not everyone knows that feeling of personal pride when they've give everything that they have to give. For me, my life has been laced with those moments. Not because I'm special, or better than anyone else, but because that's how I was taught. I was taught to give everything in all that I do, or to give nothing. For me, there is no middle ground. A wise man once said, "greater love hath no man then this, that he lay down his life for his friends." These moments of beauty, can be found nowhere so purely as in the selflessness of one human for another. Whether in war, or in peace, the most beautiful moments we will ever experience, witness, or participate in, involve that act of sacrificing something for someone else.  I don't know what it is within us that makes us willing to sacrifice. From the warrior on the battlefield, to the first-responder on the home front, to the random stranger, the father, mother, brother, and sister. There is something in our human nature that allows us to forgo our own sense and need for survival in order to preserve the life of someone else. I would trade everything in this world to be able to witness these moments, and lucky for us they aren't as few and far between as one might expect...these moments of sheer beauty happen daily, and when witnessed they are something to dwell on, something to cherish, and something to treasure. Because in those times, in those struggles when we doubt everything around us, when we question who we are, and what we are doing, it is those moments that will propel us forward and remind us what our purpose is, and why we are here. In a world that is torn by hate, and manipulated by corruption, our only shining light is our ability and determination to not allow these moments of beauty to be snuffed out, hidden, or erased. The moments of beauty are what make life special, they are what make life worth living, trials worth surviving, and wrongs worth forgiving. I think of beauty not as something that we see, but more of something that we create, with our thoughts, our words, and our actions. Beauty isn't always perfect, it isn't always happy, but it is always pure, and it is always selfless.

We are trying to be purposeful, in a purposeless world.

It took me a moment to fully regain my senses, the lights were completely out, and I could just barely see the blinking glow from the clock on the stove. I reached for my phone and switched on my flashlight app, everything was were I had left it, scattered about, but organized. I got to my feet and stumbled to my room. I threw the blankets aside and crawled in bed, savoring the feeling of my cool pillow. Within moments I was out, asleep, my mind in a completely different place.
I could see it moving closer, the lighting was dim, but there was no mistaking the glow from the moon. I could see it all around me, the moon, the sun, the stars, it was as if the whole universe was spinning around me, and I could see it all. None of it made sense though, it didn't add up. I knew I was dreaming... but what did all of this mean? And just like that everything changed, and I saw myself standing in a snow covered forest. I was alone, snow was falling lightly among the pine trees. I watched as I stumbled along, not really going anywhere, just wondering back and forth. I had this look in my eyes, a look of, almost, confusion, mixed with shock. The snow stuck to my hair and face, but I paid it no mind. I watched perplexed as I continued to just wonder around, practically in circles, and before I could grasp the situation the images changed once again. The scream jolted my mind, and I thought for sure that it would wake me up, but unfortunately it did not. It just continued, getting louder and louder and louder. I couldn't see it yet, I could just hear it as it raped my ears, and tore at my mind. I forced myself awake, I could barely handle being awake, much less anymore nightmares. I never thought I would find myself at a place in my life where I didn't know what to do, or even what to say. But now I'm sitting here not knowing what to think, not knowing what to believe, or if its even worth believing anymore. I'm tired, I'm stressed, and I have no idea who I can trust. I look around everyday and I see life. I see pain, I see happiness, I see anger, I see hurt, I see routines, and I see all the things in life that are just...blah. All of these things raise the questions in my mind of what is the point in all of this? What is the reason, or is there even one? Life seems so pointless and almost purposeless.

A Revolution.

Within the darkened shadows and beneath the hallowed halls it rose. It brewed, for years, for centuries, growing, smoldering, in vengeful fire. Waiting for the day when it would exact its revenge, when it would get its justice, when its wrongs would be righted. It stirred in the hearts of men, awakening their souls to its wonderful revenge. It lit a spark throughout the world, rising ever so slowly, it was a feeling, a burning passion for something more. The desire to resist, to create, to discover, it was the will for revolution, the lust for freedom, the craving for justice. Something magical, something...Powerful. What created this fiery spark? Was it years of oppression? Was it the taxation without representation? Or maybe, just maybe, it was something that was woven in us from the beginning of time. A fiber of our being, an actual part of us that yearns for freedom, a part of us that is willing to die for liberty. On a chilly December evening it was brought together, by sons, fathers, and grandfathers. This fire, this revenge, was united under one banner. The banner of liberty and justice for all, the banner of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Yet somehow as we churn threw our technology controlled world have we forgotten about that fire? Have we suppressed the memories of the 55 in iron pen? Generation after generation has not only repressed those memories, but we've abandoned everything that once fueled that fire. We've destroyed the passion that once united the people, the passion that brought men and women together, no matter the race or color, to birth the greatest nation that this world has ever known.

Inside the empty walls.

I heard the doorbell ring, it was like reading a letter that I already knew what it said. I knew what was coming, so I just sat there, refusing to move, refusing to blink, refusing to think. In my mind if I didn't think about it, if I didn't accept it, than it wasn't real. But there it was again, that familiar ding dong, the chime of the door bell. It echoed off of the empty walls, reverberating through the floors and over the sheet covered furniture. I looked around slowly, the boxes were scattered all over the living room, organized, but scattered, holding the remnants of what was once a beautiful home. My brain finally took control of my body and I slowly stood to my feet, knees popping, showing the signs of one to many mountains. I walked slowly to the door, knowing exactly who and what I would find, but much to my surprise I was greeted by nothing..The porch was empty, aside from the twin pine rocking chairs and welcome mat. My eyes traced downwards through the storm door and settled on a small folded piece of paper that was neatly laid on the mat. I pushed aside the storm door and plucked the paper from its resting place, "strong and courageous" it read, those ever haunting words. I carried the paper to the counter and set it next to the stack of all the others, that read the same thing, in the same handwriting, on the same paper. I knew when I finally mustered up the courage that I would burn them...but until then I would allow them to decorate my counter, just another flat space that needed covering. I walked slowly back and settled in my chair, my head cocked ever so slightly to one side and I once again observed my blank living room, I contemplated what to move next, the boxes were packed, the walls empty. Now it was just a matter of deciding what was worth saving, and what needed to be destroyed. The wind stirred me from me thoughts as it slammed the shutters against the side of the house, I figured I should get back to work and I started moving the boxes, rearranging them so that they were separated into which ones needed to go to storage, and which ones needed to go to the truck. As I started moving the furniture around, trying to consolidate it to one side of the room, I found a small necklace, shaped like a heart, and studded with black diamonds. The memories flooded my brain as a stumbled back, my breathing became rapid and my hand trembled as I slowly reached down and picked it up. I let it dangle in my hand for a moment before quickly dropping it into a random box. Out of sight out of mine I thought to myself. I turned and walked slowly down the hall, into the master bedroom, it was spacious, just like I had always imagined it would be. The bed was big, almost elegant looking as it set atop a large pine frame. I could hear it then...the laughs, the whispers, the passion. I pushed the thoughts from my mind and walked past it into the master bathroom. The mirror greeted me, my hair was disheveled, and may face clearly showed that I hadn't shaved in a couple days. I was a sight for sore eyes. Either I looked like a raging alcoholic, or my bloodshot eyes told a completely different story, but I'll leave that up to you. I continued to stare for a moment at the mirror, than pushed past it to grab the box that sat on the sink. It was relatively light and labeled "truck". For a second I stopped, unsure if maybe I should put it in storage and let it collect dust, but I pushed that ridiculous idea aside and walked out. I knew it wouldn't take long before my remorse turned to anger, and I wanted to make sure I left nothing out that I would regret later. The sun was just starting to set as I pushed the box across the tailgate and into the bed, pausing one last time, to stare at the box, as if I could see through its cardboard walls at its contents. I walked back inside, knowing exactly what was coming, and that nothing I would do, could change or alter what would happen...

Hold me now, I'm six feet from the edge.

I don't know what it was at first, maybe the childlike intrigue or interest, or maybe the reassurance or persistence. At first it was slightly comical, borderline annoying. But after a while it became comforting and expected, almost desired. It was like a slow flood. Slowly the waters rose, and slowly they eroded things that had been built over years and years, until before I knew it I was drowning...and sinking. And everything I had built around me was gone, but it wasn't the drowning that hurt, it was my struggle to breathe that caused the most pain. I could see it all, in slow motion, like in a dream. The old scars were still there, along with fresh wounds, but the walls were gone, the guards were destroyed and I was left vulnerable. And at that point all I could do was say to myself, "I told you so." But unlike in the good dreams where someone reaches out and pulls you up at the last second, or the water resides, I was alone, and I was sinking. And that reassurance, the persistence, well...It was gone. Just like that, in a heartbeat. Did it get bored? Did it lose interest? Did it find something else? Was it even real from the beginning? This I don't know, and I don't know if I should lie to myself and say it was real so I won't hate, or if I deserve something more than that. It's so hard to accept how things can change so quickly, but I guess its like the calm before the storm, like the saying, "all good things come to an end," or that it was simply to good to be true. Its crazy when you experience something to an extreme, good or bad, because you always think that it could never get any better or any worse, and no matter how hard you try, you can't imagine what it could possibly be like if it were better or worse. I guess to me I just don't understand how we can say things that mean so much, that are so serious, and then change our minds so quickly. But yet our society does it every day, from the simple words of I love you. I realize now that I had already jumped off of the cliff, expecting you to do the same, but I realized to late that you weren't...Yet I was already falling, and no one could save me. I can picture it in my mind now, the look on your face, the tears in your eyes, and I'll never forget the feeling in my stomach as I fell, slowly, but farther and farther, until you were just a small speck in the distance, a faint memory, a fading shadow. It was terrifying...I wanted to scream but nothing came out of my mouth, I wanted to climb back up but didn't have the strength nor the ability. Did I give up? No, but I accepted the fact that I could do nothing to change the situation, that nothing I said or did would give you the courage to jump, because once again, its a choice, and a choice that only you could make for yourself. Sometimes I still catch my mind wondering to those places, those memories that I've locked far away, deep down inside, sometimes it refreshing, but most times its just downright painful. But I still don't know whats more painful...the memories, or the fact that I know that you don't feel the same way that I do. The world that I always imagined, that I always wanted and dreamed of you gave me, but it was only between me and you, and because no one else could see that or accept it than it failed, because we all know that when we see something we can't have, we will stop at nothing to make sure that no one else gets it. Somehow you learned things about me that no one ever knew, you got me to say and do things that no one could accomplish, but at the end of the day, somehow you hurt me in ways that I never knew possible. It makes me wonder though, will I ever have those moments again? Will anyone's voice ever sound so comforting? Will a smile stop my heart the way your's did? Will my mind ever be at peace like it was when I fell asleep in your arms? I have to tell myself that it will, that someday I will experience all of those things, but on a much more powerful scale. But even by saying that, or thinking that, it feels as if I'm belittling those feelings, or downplaying them, or saying they weren't as strong as they really were. I'm surprised at how things change, and how roles can be reversed, and I take hope in praying that maybe you can think back to what it felt like then, for you, even though I still know that it won't change your mind. But, if you just walk away, what can I say? And would it matter, anyway?

Responsibility and Change

Have you ever wondered where it came from? Where it started, or maybe what caused it? Change is inevitable. Can we fight it? I believe people only change if they really want to, I don't think anyone is changed by anything other than their desire to be different. Yes, I believe that what we surround ourselves with can add to who we are, can even take away from who we are, but I don't believe that it can actually alter who we are deep down inside. That can only be done by a choice, by the decision to change. Unfortunately many times people use change as an excuse, they use it to hide from their problems, run away from them, or escape responsibility. Because to them, the idea of change is more comforting and secure then the idea of dealing with the guilt and remorse that comes with responsibility. Is there anything we can do about this? No, because just like how change is a choice, so is responsibility. We can't force responsibility on anyone, just like we can't force change on anyone. They have to want it. They have to desire it, and until they do, it will be like preaching to def people. We won't be heard, we won't be acknowledged, and it will mean nothing to them. This lays claim to one of the most heartbreaking and heart wrenching things we will ever have to do...sit back and watch, as they make the decisions for themselves on what change they will accept, on what actions they will take responsibility for. Many times it will not go our way, and we will have to stand by helplessly as they choose another path, but every now and again, ever so rarely, someone will surprise us. Someone will accept the change, or take on the responsibility, and in that moment we will know that they are worth it, that they mean what they say, and will stand by what they say.

I don't even know

We all have those times when we believe things we shouldn't. Those times when for some reason we allow ourselves to have some false sense of hope, blind trust some would call it. And every time the same thing happens, yet still, we allow ourselves to be led astray, hoodwinked in a sense. But for what? One moment of happiness? Five minutes of feeling special? Maybe a couple laughs. And somehow, every time, we go back for more. It’s as if we never learn...You'd think that after the first, second, maybe third time. We would have figured out how short we were selling ourselves. But no, because all were worried about is that moment of self-gratification. That short time where we can justify everything wrong, and right thing that we've ever done. At some point you just get to the point where you don’t care. And I’m going to transition this into something about me. I’ve allowed myself to get to the point where I just don’t care. I’ve let one bad decision after another dictate the direction of my life. I’ve ignored what I know is the right thing, what I feel is the right thing, because I wanted to fit in, or I wanted to have friends, or be popular or well liked. I sacrificed what made Jesse, Jesse. And in doing that I completely lost who I tried so hard to be. I gave up on dreams, I gave up on friends, and I started sacrificing more and more areas of my life towards failing endeavors. But, we all make choices, we all make decisions, and those are choices that only we are responsible for. No one else. I wish I could blame someone, and I’m sure in the grand scheme of things somewhere in my life someone is to blame for all of this, but there is no point. Blaming someone else, what would that accomplish? Absolutely nothing, it would just add to another long list of bad habits – the inability to accept responsibility for your actions. Now all I can do is determine what is important to me, what is worth my time, energy, and resources. The hard part isn’t figuring out what those are, its sticking to them no matter what happens, no matter what “better” thing comes along. 

Hesitation destroys our lives.

Where do you want to go from here? What do you want to do? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Ever sat in from of the mirror and just thought, 'what the hell'. Some things just aren't worth thinking about, they aren't worth worrying about, stressing about, or letting consume your life. Just like some people don't deserve your time, or your energy. Most of our struggle in life comes from inside of us. It comes from the hesitation of putting ourselves out there, from the reluctance to let other people see what were  really about. We set restrictions and handicaps on ourselves simply because were to worried about how we will look, or what someone else will think. What we do will never be enough, not for everyone. So...we just have to decide who its going to be enough for. Will it be enough for our family? Our friends? Our spouse? Maybe our boss? Or will we be one of the few people who figures out how it will be enough for a couple of those? If were lucky maybe we can find the balance. Living life is just about figuring out how to survive in equilibrium. Its all about which battles we can afford to fight, and which battles we can afford to lose. If for one second we allow ourselves to think that we are in control, or that we have some type of say in what goes on is where we are wrong. Everyday I learn something new, who gives a shit, and who doesn't. And everyday, that list gets smaller and smaller. Our lives are what we believe that they are. We can create anything that we want in our minds....and with that, we can make any fantasy become a reality. So that's up to you, that's your decision. If you want your dreams, your fantasies, to be reality, then all you have to do is let them. Its as simple as that. And sometimes, when people stand in your way, you just have to say fuck you, and never forget their face. Because if someone doubts you once, they will doubt you twice. Always forgive, but never forget, because the minute that you allow yourself to forget, is the minute that you die. You just have to ask yourself, "do I want to live my life making other people happy? Or do I want to live my life making me happy?" We have no control over what other people say or do. During the civil war Stonewall Jackson told his men that in order to win the war they must raise the 'black' flag, meaning that they could show no mercy. He believed that in order for the south to emerge victorious they would have to fix bayonets, and spare no one. In more ways than one he was right. Sometimes in our lives we will come to situations where we will have to raise the black flag and fix bayonets, otherwise we will allow ourselves to be walked on, trampled on, taken advantage of, and slowly but surely we will watch as that destroys who we are. As it eats away at the very fiber of our being, and erodes the foundation of our soul. That decision to fix bayonets is never easy, and it isn't a matter of it being "us or them." Many times its the deciding factor in whether or not we want our livelihood to remain...Whether or not we want everything that we stand for to be preserved, valued, and honored. Our legacy is never what we leave behind, it isn't the pictures, the money, or the house. Our legacy is that burning hole left inside someone that causes them to do something great. Its the fight that we win, so that they know what its like to be victorious. Its the feeling they have of knowing that someone would do anything for them, the ever resounding noise that brings tears to their eyes. If we want to leave behind a legacy, one full of inspiration and of passion, then we must raise the black flag in our lives. We must show everyone else that we are willing to do what it takes to preserve who we are and that we will fight and never give up to prove that. And we do that by taking away that hesitation, we do that by allowing ourselves to be seen for who we are. Scars, wounds, and all. By raising that black flag we are saying that we aren't ashamed of who we are, and who we are going to be. That's what really matters...And that's what will ensure that we are preserved, that our legacy is remembered, and more importantly, valued.

Dreams to reality.

The truth of the matter is that I'm not crazy. The truth is that I just want to have fun. I just want to live life as lively and exciting as possible. I accepted a long time ago that life sucks, that there will always be some type of pain and heartache to experience. Some new burden, some new trial or tribulation. But just because that is so, it doesn't mean that we have to sit back and live our lives like that. I want to go on adventures, I want to go camping and get stuck in the pouring rain. I want to jump in a fountain in a suit, I want to play hide and seek in Walmart, and go to the mall and try on clothes that I can't afford. But I don't just want to do these things by myself. I want to do these things with my best friend, with someone that knows me, that wants to understand me, that seeks to understand me. I wan't to go on long road trips, I want to stay up late watching TV and pouring out my thoughts. I want to love someone so much until I know that I truly can't love them anymore. I want to know that everyday I wake up, and every night I go to bed that I've given someone everything that I possibly can and have to give. To me there is no greater feeling than having sacrificed everything you can for someone else. I want to stare into the eyes of the woman of my dreams and vow to give my life for her, in sickness and in health. I want to experience the beauty of sex within marriage. But I think above all of these things what I seek the most, is someone that is willing to do all of these things for me as well. Someone that enjoys being goofy, someone that likes silly jokes and cheap food. Someone that find's happiness in what they do and who they are with, instead of what they have and how they are viewed.
I want to have a house that is full of genuineness, love, and warmth. I want to be able all of those things for people that no one was for me. I want to be someone that gives people the inspiration, the advice, the wisdom, that they need to succeed.

Dreams of boredom

I love to dream, I love to imagine. My mind is a tangled web of dreams and aspirations going back and forth and forth and back. Sometimes it gets confusing, but most times I love it, because it allows me to see anything that I want to see. It allows me to be whoever I want to be and do whatever I want to do. But above all it allows me to live in whatever world I want to live. I guess my point is that like most people when I'm bored my mind runs wild, and as far as I allow it to go it will. There is nothing in the world that can stop me when I put my mind to it...Nothing that I can't have if I really want it. But in this world you can't force anything on anyone, you can't make someone want you, or your dreams. They have to want them, they have to see them as beautiful and incredible and want those things for their lives as well. Because if they don't than its like eating old spoiled food. For a while its okay, it might taste good, even smell good. And most likely it will sit okay in your stomach for a short time, but after time it will start to run its course, and the stomach will do the only thing that it knows to do in order to protect itself, and that is get rid of it.

These are the worst nights. They remind me of boot camp and infantry school. Of the so many times I sat and dreamed about things, imagined what they would be like. I would let my mind run wild until it drove me crazy. Until recently I've never felt so much control over my life, but at the same hand I feel as if nothing I do will change what is "supposed" to happen. How much can I do? I couldn't ask more from my life. I have a decent job, a great school opportunity, a wonderful girlfriend, and incredible friends. But like anything its always hard not to want more. Its hard to not wonder what things could be like, and constantly running through my mind are all of the if's, and's, and but's. Truth of the matter is I'm completely happy where I am at. Its been a hard journey, and I still have moments where I hesitate and doubt myself. But behind the doubt, behind the reoccurring pain, lies one common theme. For once I am able to sit back, relax, and just be myself, and anything more than that is me demanding things out of my control. Its just me being ungrateful for all of the things I have.