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.

March Madness (Or Why I Really Need to Meditate)

One of my goals this year has been to meditate more. It calms the mind, soothes the body, and I need all of the above. Especially this week, when I really feel reality slipping and my consciousness dripping all over the floor around me and puddling up in the mattress beneath me, something to take the edge off without alcohol is appreciated.

That’s where meditation comes in.

But the last couple months, sitting still hasn’t been helpful. Making time to stop isn’t meditative–it just makes me more anxious, as in minutes I see all the hours of work I could get done–and then watch as time passes while I merely sit there. That’s not meditation. That’s torture.

What’s a guy to do?

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.

At the End of the Day

I’m at a loss for words. It’s not because I have nothing to say–there’s always something to say, and it’s the obligation of the artist to say anything in the most elegant way just because he can–but because I have no energy with which to say it.

It’s a strange concept. Yellow wallpaper and casks of Amontillado and roses make me weary with words and passages on past events elude me entirely. Heroes converse daily, and creation occurs now in its place. From driven snow to western apocalypses and fallen angels and odd-ball superheroes to clones with no memories.

I said my mind is chaos. And these are only homework assignments.

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.

Sabbath Delight

Family was this week’s theme. My brother and his family came up the first and we all visited until they left today. And whenever I had free time, I was busy journalling and playing video games. In fact, I’d probably be off playing video games right now if it weren’t Friday.

“If it weren’t Friday?” But–but the weekends are supposed to be for fun! And aren’t video games fun? Well, yes, but you see, that’s not the only thing the weekends are for….

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.

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.