what's it all really mean?

anyone who knows me well will nod their agreement with great vigour
when someone mentions that i need to know the why of things. i'm like
a two year old in a middle aged man's body. don't just answer my
question, tell me why you arrived at that answer. i'm a firm believer
that there is a rhyme and reason behind everything, and really, i'm
more interested in that than i am the actual answer.

i was listening to a preacher once. he was talking about how we often
have the mind set that life should be fair. i don't remember much of
that sermon other than this one sentence. "what's unfair about life is
that it is fair."

i no more know what he was trying to say with statement now than i did
when he said it twelve years ago.

life is not fair, is it? comparatively speaking, say compared to a kid
born in some third world country who was abandoned by his parents and
had to struggle just to eat every day, i've had it pretty easy. i
mean, i'm sure that kid would look at my life and think, that's a cake
walk. compared to him, i'd say i've escaped my share of suffering.
but, that gets me to thinking, what is the meaning of life? the
hypercomputer earth from the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy deduced
the answer of the meaning of life, the universe, of everything, was
42.

what do you mean when you ask that question? what is life about for you?

i'd like to say life is the simplest thing there is. you wake, you
breathe, you eat. wash rinse repeat. but it's not, is it? not for us
humans, anyway. there's so many emotions, so many relationships, so
many needs beyond just food, water, and shelter. we need validation.
we need to be touched. we need to know someone gives a d*mn. we need
to know we are necessary.

i don't suppose there's any reason for this post. just me, thinking.
and painfully aware that a great many of my needs are in no way being
met.

ghost

shiver

i like the taste of shiver, that bare boned, white knuckled, knock
about kind of feeling that rakes your skin like a rattling boxcar
caught in a summer storm, and makes my tongue feel like it just
touched God.

ghost

something about those texan girls

stranger

my thoughts are scattered into a barren land where snow rarely falls.
the white wind scratches my skin, its old hands wise with suffering.
i will remember these things, everything this place forgets.

success?

i remember now just how much i hate letting people down. it's been a
while since i've really disappointed anyone but myself. it's because i
loathe the feeling, that i work so hard not to. last night, though, i
pulled the trigger on just such an occurrence. and just like i
remember, it sucked.

some people fear success as much as they fear failure. sometimes more.
i think i've been one of those people, though i'd say it was a neck in
neck race between which i feared most. the trick to either i think is
to face them with courage.

what happens to someone if a dream comes true? i think we are less
prepared for that than if something we long for escapes our grasp. i
think perhaps we are familiar with wishes going unfulfilled, and maybe
it is a shock if something we imagined in some far flung fantasy comes
to life. kinda makes me think of that old saying, "be careful what you
wish for. you might just get it."

how would you act if one of your dreams came true? i like to think i'd
act like it was just another day. all casual like. i suppose another
way would be to walk around stunned by everything that happens. but,
then everyone would know something was up.

just to clear this up, i'm talking real success here, not having
spaghetti come out all al dente. i mean like curing cancer, or hitting
the mega lottery powerball for many millions of dollars. if that were
to happen to me, i'd show you courage they'd write stories about that
would be remembered for generations to come. like f*cking homer.

from the odyssey. not the simpsons.

ghost

i've noticed

i might be ruined where relationships are concerned.

in the time since amy left me, there have been a few false starts,
beginnings with possibility, but they always seem to wither and fade.
and, to use a cliche break up line, i'm beginning to see it's me, not
them. for a long time, i was still in love with who i thought amy was.
with the eventual realization that our life together had been a lie,
there came a great anger that burned me for a while longer. i've found
some measure of peace with all of that, though i can still sense
evidence that i am not yet healed.

quite simply, i'm concerned i'll try and fail. again. and really, i
can't afford that. not from an emotional or financial stand point.
i've also noticed a desire not to have anyone around for long periods
of time. maybe i've grown too accustomed to my solitude. i don't like
being around people for long. i feel myself start itching for them to
leave, or looking for any reason to take off. perhaps it's just that i
spend all of my free time with my kids, and am unwilling to give up
any time with them. perhaps i use that as an excuse instead of
admitting my fear. you can't grow a relationship without devoting time
to it, and i seem unwilling to do that anymore. i'd be willing to
wager no one worked as hard in a relationship as i did, to make it all
work, to keep things running smoothly. that evidence i mentioned
earlier shows up when i'm considering wading off into another
relationship. i'm just not ready to risk it, to put it all on the
line, to put in that kinda work.

it seems i'm no longer a man of thunder, throwing lightning to the
ground. today i am content to be a man of rain, caught up in the
downpour of my days.

ghost

clumsy me

sometimes i think words are clumsy things, incapable of the true
meaning i want to express. sometimes i imagine i have the ability to
think at people, to send them messages of raw meaning. i wouldn't have
to hassle with making my messages into words. it's not that i'm lazy.
i love to write. i love to string words into sentences, to wordcraft,
if you will. but in real life, when it's time for a word or a phrase
to move a conversation on, i never feel like i get it right. i'm ok
with silence. most people are not.

the more i think about it, though, the more i think expressing
ourselves is just a dozen compromises of meaning to chunk it into the
words that are available in our vocabulary. we don't think about it.
we're used to it. we manage. and maybe that's a good thing. maybe my
raw streams of meaning i'd project to people wouldn't make much sense.
maybe i need the process of constructing sentences, finding words, to
validate my meaning, to craft a statement and temper the raw meaning.

yes, it's probably a good thing my thoughts must become words and pass
my tongue before they reach others. it gives me time, at least, to
maybe tap the breaks on the rant that's about to spill into their
minds like liquid hellfire, or the lustful thoughts that touch me when
i see a particularly well fitting pair of jeans, or the genuine
disinterest when someone is droning on and on about things i care
nothing about.

ghost

yes, i know i'm getting too old for this, but...

people always seem so surprised when they're riding around in a car
with a group of their friends, for whatever reason, they decide to
shout obscenities at me as they drive by me in a parking lot, and i
respond by kicking a big dent in their door. i mean really, what do
you think is going to happen?

where i'm from, there are consequences for actions, boys and girls.
yours will be explaining to daddy why there's a dent in his volvo.
mine will be icing my ankle.

mine was worth it.

and no, i wasn't at wal-mart.

ghost

U5 Raiders

it's no secret i love soccer. i've watched all levels. i've played all
levels. every summer that's a world cup summer are months i never want
to end. i played internationally against some of the toughest
opponents imaginable. i shut down a former indoor super star in an
exhibition match. i've travelled through this great country of ours
playing the beautiful game. i've won big games. i've lost big games.
i've been blown out by strangers and i've been in knock down drag out
battles against guys i've known my whole life.

but saturday, i saw the best game of my life when my five year old
boys battled it out with another five year old team.

i've often said that despite the fact that neither my brother nor i
became famous pro soccer players even after all the time and money my
family spent for our years of playing, the sport we've both played for
over thirty years helped form us both into the men we are. it taught
us honor and fair play. it taught us camaraderie and discipline and
work ethic. the game taught me to go further than i thought possible,
to dig deeper, to find reserves of strength and power i might not have
otherwise been aware of. it gave me confidence that i can't describe.
some of the things i've had to endure as an adult, i learned to deal
with playing a game. to not give up, to keep trying no matter what
odds are before me, to keep my head even when it would be easier to
give up.

saturday i saw two evenly matched teams of five year old boys going
after their goals with determination equalled only by the other teams'
desire not to let them score. they were playing to win. they were
playing for sheer joy and love of the game.

and it was a defensive slug fest.

Tiny Tank and another boy on our team had played a baseball game
against one another earlier in the day, and by the end of the game,
after a back and forth battle, a gritty game length brawl for the
ball, both were starting to flag. it was awesome to see them both with
hands on knees between plays, then getting right back into the mix and
continuing to fight hard. i lost track of Tank's blocked shots,
defended rushes, and take aways, but i won't ever forget the little
fist pump he gave when he scored and then immediately looked to me for
my reaction. which was me jumping up and down and yelling like i had
won the lottery. because i did. five years ago.

ghost

special

humans as a whole are arrogant creatures. i'm not telling you anything
you haven't already deduced for yourself, but sometimes i am struck by
our arrogance. i am amazed at the behavior of others, and i wonder
constantly at what makes them behave this way or that.

still, i suppose we have gained a little of what might be called
humility. we have learned a bit of our place. we don't think we are
the center of the universe which all the planets, the sun, and the
stars revolve around. instead, we know we have admitted to a mediocre
position in a mediocre galaxy.

but, there is one trump card we possess that we have yet to find
anywhere else. there is life here. and i can take it down to the local
level. i know i'm not much, but there is no other me anywhere else. my
dreams are mine alone.

in that, we are all special. some would say if we are all special,
then it's a roundabout way of saying we're all average. i'd agree with
that, but it does make me wonder that each of us can possess our own
spark of something no one else has. it is perhaps that we are all
special that we forget it, like we're just so used to it. it's like
what i wrote a couple of years ago. we don't notice that miracles
happen every day simply because they happen every day.

ghost

taking it to the streets

"its not confusing. i'm just trying to make sure i completely
understand the intentprocessprocedure before i start spreading the
word. and i dont mind putting them up at all. that sort of subversion
is right in my wheelhouse."-ghost

"i thought it might be your kind of gentle guerilla warfare."-switchsky

it's like she's in my head, man.

ghost

child's eyes

i remember as a kid, when i was old enough to comprehend the very
idea, i made a vow to never forget what it is like to look out of a
child's eyes, to see things from a young mind's point of view. i have
kept it as best i could, knowing we change as we grow older, realizing
how so many of the things we care about as young people fade into the
background. i still remember the vow, and i think i still manage to
look at things through a child's eyes. i'm accused of it from time to
time anyway. do you recall it at all? how some little thing seemed
like the end of the world or heaven's gift. something i didn't count
on back then was perspective.

it seems funny to us, we grown ups, how we wanted something so badly,
or thought some ordinary happening spelled the end of all things.
priorities change. perspective changes. i try to remember how
important things i don't even really consider are to my kids. i try so
hard to keep that in mind, and not get frustrated with their
understanding within their limited world view.

i remember once when i was in kindergarten my dad was taking me to
school and it was raining harder than i had ever seen it rain in
midland texas. and i freaked out. i thought noah was back in business
and we were all going to drown. i also remember a break up in my early
twenties that had me in a tailspin.

looking back, i reckon i must have annoyed my dad to no end.

ghost

re member

every so often i have a moment where i wonder if all of the important
things have stayed with me, and there's the briefest flash of panic
that i have let slip some vital secret of life i was too lazy to take
the time to write down, or that i have lost the pages i wrote them on.

history never looks like history when you're living in it, and that
applies to a life too. the small decisions that led to other decisions
that led to grand sweeping change or turmoil. our histories, well, i
don't know about you, but i doubt anyone will bother to write mine
down. and if by chance someone did try to dig it up and write it down,
they might get it all wrong despite honestly wanting to remember me. i
mean, even if they scrutinized every step i ever took, they'd still be
looking at those steps through their own eyes, their own thoughts,
their own schema, thoughts, and feelings, not mine.

i commit a lot of things i want to keep to paper. i commit a lot of
what i have learned here, to ghostspace, but there is so much more i
can't hope to capture. living those moments sometimes must suffice.

ghost

some where somewhere

let's go somewhere.
to some twilight land
where we forge dreams,
where rivers flow through the sky.
let's go where the pegasi
spread their wings, crossing valleys,
where rainbows end,
where time was born.

let's drink emotion by the glass.
let's speak and be carried away
by our sentences, far away
from the capture of doubt.
i'm not talking heavy spirits
or magic carpets.

let's go where we put
on our true faces,
to that place where we have
always belonged,
where our hearts don't fear
to whisper our secret longing.
closer than our imagination,
it's what home is meant to be.

ghost

never again

these are dreams that never flowered
these are plans that bore no fruit
these are memories never recalled
these are ashes of days burned away
these are mistakes never noticed
these are songs never written
these are formulas never solved
these are miracles no one sees

i never dreamed this dream

ghost