Ceremonials

Have you ever stepped outside to see everything in high definition? The leaves on the trees in glorious three dimensions? The fractures in the asphalt, the oil stains in thirty shades of grey, and the skid marks like brush strokes painted upon the road? Or the sunlight shining through every blade of grass and the diffractions of shadows cast from the heavens onto the ground?

Today’s been one of those days.

Organic Evolution

I’m of a mindset that things must grow organically to be genuine. If forced, failure. My goals… sometimes they feel forced. My mind simply isn’t always upon them. But I promise it’s not for a lack of genuine concern, is it?

Sometimes I don’t know.

Marchin On

Fate is such a subtle seamstress. Even when my life is unraveling down to its smallest fibers, right around the corner the loom is suddenly strung once more and everything is pulling itself back together again. In a matter of days, I had died. In a matter of minutes, hours, I had been brought back to life. I had lost both sleep and sanity last month–both responsibility and intention had vanished with the moderation of my mind. And now, now all of that has been brought back to me. Now all of that has left me overflowing with such joy I’m on the brink of tears in any given moment, simply overwhelmed with this magnificent and beautiful intensity.

Taking a look at my goals for March is depressing. It starts off on the left-hand side remarkably green, but as the weeks progress, one by one green dots turn to orange–failure. Lack of achievement. Missed accomplishment.

I could easily give up. I could easily say, like many with New Year Resolutions do, I’ve missed my mark. I have loosed my arrows and now my quiver is empty. I have nothing left to give. I shall break my bow and bow down to the powers that be, the societies and stigmas that have kept me from the success, months ago, I had dreamed of.

But I refuse to do so. I refuse to succumb to the fates that weave reality. I refuse to do it. I did not make resolutions to be broken–I made goals to be kept. My long-term goals have not changed, not changed one bit; only my short-term goals, those steps I am taking to get there, have transformed into something new, into a path with greater clarity. Every moment is a moment to learn from–and when good things come into your life, time seems to make itself. I have had my hand at failure. I will not lie and say I have only found success in my life. But to hide my failures is unbecoming; by embracing them, I can learn from them and grow into something–someone–greater.

In three words: I’m marchin on.

Mocking Winter

Yesterday was a fantastic day. And by yesterday, so we’re clear, I do mean Monday. It’s what happens when I sleep in late and have unexpected things come up in the afternoon and evening. Makes my days drag on and Tune Tuesdays never happen…. Music Mondays? Just not working out. Good thing for Tuesdays, or else my alliterative longing would’ve made maintaining Mondays especially laborious.

Anyways, today’s Tuesday, and I was talking about Monday and how fantastic a day it was. So, after our monthly clubs meeting (where I got to present a beautiful powerpoint on social media that I was so excited about!), I walked around campus hanging fliers for an upcoming event. Normally flier-hanging is an exhaustive task, especially with how windy it was, but a conversation with a good friend a week and a half back gave me an ingenious idea: Put the fliers in a bag. So that’s what I did. My hands were freed up, nothing blew away, and I had a receptacle to carry the outdated fliers I inevitably had to take down to make room for new material. The weather was especially beautiful–a little cool, but sunny. And the wind?

Have I ever said how much I love the wind?

Anyways, at one point I came across three employees on their way home, all of them bundled up in coats and scarves. The one was like, “Darren, where’s your coat?” And another was like, “How can you be out here like this?” And then the first said, “You’re mocking winter.”

Mocking winter. I liked it. Suddenly it became thematic.

Restart (Rewind Button Malfunction)

It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s simply the fact that I couldn’t. Or that didn’t if I absolve myself of forgiveness. Either way, point being, to tell the truth–and how many more words will I insist on speaking before moving past a meaningless introduction to the inevitable anyways?–I wanted to write here. I just didn’t make time to do it.

In a few words: This past week I had an extended work load at school and I’ve been fighting off a sinus infection (it’s this unseasonable weather, I swear!). None of this changes the fact that the month just changed, and since I can’t rewind time to do over what I didn’t get done, this new month allows me to restart my self-conditioning with another set of monthly goals.

Man, I really do say a lot before getting to the point.

On the Wall

Last year I made some miserable mistakes in making my goals: There were too many and they were too broad. I had no way to measure my success or to celebrate small victories along the way. One good thing I did was post them here–that gave me an audience who would witness my shortcomings if I failed to achieve my goals. Then again, I didn’t check back on them enough–and that’s got to changes, too.

Anyways, today starts the new year. And with the new year comes new goals for myself, new endeavors, and new opportunities.

Will you join me?

Mirror, Mirror

On the one hand, 2011 was a great success. I did great in school, had lots of fun writing, finished my sixth consecutive year of NaNoWriMo, and became GTCC’s Student Government Association president. Not to mention I got to see the President of the Unites States speak in person, attend a conference on campus activities in Myrtle Beach and a conference on Jewish education in Jackson, Mississippi, and receive nominations for multiple scholarships and awards.

On the other hand, however, after looking forward to 2011 this time last year, looking back at 2011 only shows a picture of failure.

Once Upon a Time

There’s such a thing as irony, and when we lack it, we’re anemic (and that’s a thing called paronomasia, or punning, or wordplay). But no matter what we call it, what’s at the heart of my personal irony today is the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I have never seen it. But I have read parts of it, and I have read parts about it.

It began the second or third day of my Creative Writing class. We were covering screenplays and we were reading an example, and this was the movie my teacher decided to bring in. We read the opening of the script. We watched a couple clips on YouTube. We–rather, the people who had seen it–talked a bit about it. And then I ran to the library, checked the stock, and saw we didn’t have it. Ergo, I did not watch it.

Where’s the irony, you say? Here it comes, wait for it….

Silent Night

The semester is over and all through the house, not a word is spoken, not even a shout. No pages are turned, no pencils are moved; no papers frantically ferried to professors behooved. Instead there is silence, a deep blanketing veil, a solemn rest now overcoming those students whispering, “Farewell.”

From their shoulders are lifted great burdensome weights, and tall and mighty now they stand and await. In days’ time, in weeks’ time, they’ll find peace at last; and once more, and once again then, classes will begin at first light. But now, now they rest, all wrapped up in bed, and tired and lonesome, no thoughts in their heads. In silence they slumber, in silence they wake, and through silence, to silence, their futures they make.

Truth and Recreation

I’ve written a lot lately. In fact, since my last post here I’ve written over 23,000 words–or the equivalent of approximately a month’s worth of posts, if we assume I post about twelve times a month and each of them are slightly less than two thousand words a piece. Then again, this is what I expect during NaNoWriMo: A lot of writing but not a lot of writing here. Or on school papers. I’m so glad they’re not due till December.

Lately I’ve also been hung up on saying “the truth is.” Well the truth is I don’t know why I’ve had this obsession, but I’m almost certain that the two might be related.

It’s what I like to call truth and recreation.