Around the Block

Plans are made to be broken and clichés are meant to be forgotten, but when the sun rises, even if the blade is blunt, it hurts all the same. I’m making no sense, and doesn’t that leave me without change?

Cut the homonyms, they don’t work as well in writing.

Where to begin? It’s been an adventure–and every step unexpected.

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Acceptance

One year ago I packed my bags and left. I met two friends by the library and we began our drive to the North Carolina LGBTQI Leadership Retreat. We listened to the Pitch Perfect soundtrack as we drove in to Efland. I don’t remember what we spoke about, but I know I didn’t mention anything that had happened the last week.

I wanted to enjoy this weekend. For one moment I wanted to set aside all the anger and fear and self-loathing and just have a good time. On Monday the healthy relationships group would begin. Maybe a week or two later I’d have my first individual session. I’d already deleted my apps. I wanted to take a break from it all. To just forget for a moment.

But who was I kidding? That wasn’t going to happen.

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Get SMART

The year is 2014 and the day is one. I’ve spent the last few days looking back and looking forward, and I think I’ve got a handle on what I’m planning this year–but all that can wait.

I was perusing Facebook last night (so productive, I know) and reading people’s New Year resolutions, and I just couldn’t help myself: I was shaking my head in disappointment. I gave up on “resolutions” years ago when I realized the word itself implies fixing what’s broken as opposed to reaching new levels of personal growth, but even overlooking that, I found people’s plans for 2014 lack the kind of focus that’s obtainable.

Yes, yes, I’m happy you “want to be the best you can be and have a great year,” but what the hell does that mean?

Hopefully I can help you find out.

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In the Absence of Time

In the absence of time, Einstein postulated in a quote I recall only in spirit, everything would happen at once. It was in this turbulent void of happening that I found myself moments ago speaking with a good friend, telling him I just don’t care.

I’ve reached that point, I told him, where I’m overwhelmed and just can’t care anymore. My entire emotional response system has shut down. It happens from time to time. I’ll rest, get things back in order, and start to care again–but that will come tomorrow or the day after, and I’m not looking forward right now, not today.

But are we surprised? Aren’t we all gazing back today?

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The Many Lives of Me

In another universe I am not the one writing this. In another universe I am still who I am, but wholly different–the personification of another facet of myself. In another universe I am the same man but different, a secondary, tertiary–an nth degree version of myself wholly unknown yet wholly undifferentiated.

That’s a good way of saying it.

Where all these universes meet–a place in time or space, removed from either or both–there is an integral self that exists beyond all possibilities.

The act of reality forming from thought differentiates these forms, causing universal constants to slip behind subliminal ideals, each variable taking upon itself a new manifestation based upon those factors that surround it.

Today I feel undifferentiated. It’s an integral part of my identity.

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Mark My Words

November 8, 2012

I’ve been struggling a long time to figure out what I want to do with my life. I used to joke I had my life planned through graduation this past May. It wasn’t until August and September came that I realized how much I had relied upon this plan–and how much I lacked the direction to proceed since then.

I’ve been journeying this winding path for weeks. I’ve taken personal inventories and gone to job interviews and spoken with advisors and friends about what I’m doing–and none alone has given me more help than my closest friend. She told me flatly that I’m fooling myself. That I’ve always known what I want to do. That I’m just thinking too much.

Well, maybe I have thought too much. But now my thinking is over.

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It’s Just Not Fair

I wrote a post on Fair Trade last week, but the moment I finished it, I loathed it. It was long and tiresome, uninspired, and failed to touch the topic adequately. It was supposed to start my in-depth look at the issues our trip is facing, but instead it felt like a sour essay.

The point remains, however, that Fair Trade is important. After all, our entire trip is working alongside the Toledo Cacao Growers Association, which is based around Fair Trade farming.

So I’m tossing out everything else and starting anew. It’s not fair that I have to write this twice, but it’s not fair that farmers around the world aren’t receiving the benefits of Fair Trade, either.

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Born Again

Today marks a special anniversary more so than just the start of another year: It’s also the third birthday of this blog–and as I sat drafting my goals for 2013, I found my blogging featured prominently. However, this is not the only birthday I’d like to celebrate today: I’d like to celebrate mine, and yours, and everyone’s.

When the year begins anew, so do we–and with this ethereal rebirth, we are able to do away with our old selves and promise to move a step closer toward the ideal we’ve always aspired to become. This heavenly image will certainly change over the years (and certainly already has), and as we draw closer to its general shape the edges become clearer and there is always one more step between us, but the impossible attainability of this end is not what matters–only making progress defines us in the end.

As this new year begins, I invite you to join me as I try to take the next step to becoming my ideal being. May we become each other’s witnesses on this journey, holding us each to our goals, and in this time, may we also become greater friends.

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Accidental Beginnings

It all started very much by accident. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m currently pursuing the Visionary Leaders Certificate that N.C. State students can complete by accomplishing a number of tasks (I like to say tasks because it reminds me of Harry Potter, and that makes everything more fun). These are all simple enough–attend ten Leadership Development Seminars, prepare a portfolio of reflections on what you’ve learned and how you’ve applied it, write a page about your involvement on campus, and then defend your portfolio before a panel of judges more terrifying than a Hungarian Horntail (well, maybe not that bad)–but, wait, I forgot one.

Oh, yes. It’s the question that started everything. Community Service.

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On Milk and Money and Matters That Matter

A word.

As a child I detested it. Now as an adult I have come to appreciate it. I may still at times despise it, but I succumb to it nonetheless. In this word there is synthesis. Togetherness. Means and ideals.

I can’t recall any memories of importance, but I can imagine some long lost day in the second or third grade when, before Hebrew school began, my friends and I would ride the wagon down the hill behind our synagogue. Sometimes I didn’t like going down the hill. Sometimes I would much rather sit and talk on the swings.

Sometimes we did both.

At six or seven we could see that both was better.

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