Thoughts of a rambling man.

What a beautiful night to sit here and think.
About all that has passed and all that will come.
Dates have no meaning, in this fast paced life
racing by relentlessly - another page on the calendar.
Conversations and classes marking the days.
Only to be a stoic old story creeping through the mind.
When youth turns to lust, for the younger days behind.
But age does is not frightening - to those who can see,
that life is a great story - no more and no less.
Truth is skewed by years that have passed
The only thing that survives is the meaning.
So what constitutes meaning?
Is it measured in success?
Or is it the efforts that go towards a success.
That may or may not come true - but the stories
always do. Life's not predictable enough to follow through.
exactly as planned, fantasized, or prepared.
Twists and turns like water in a crack;
It spreads about evaporating into the air.
With nothing left but a dim little stain.
What a beautiful night - to sit here and think.
About all that is and that is not.

Counting Sheep to the Rythm of War Drums.

With the weather cooling down, Columbia has been quite overcast since I have arrived back from thanksgiving break. Feeling withdrawn and reflexive I am realizing once again the speed that life is coming at me. Merely days away from the end of my third semester here, I am not the same person that I was a year ago. College, experiences, and several key people have changed me immensely. I do not regret this change, although I do miss my innocence and naivety that I once possessed. Relationships, friendships, classes, money, and time itself have erased much of my positive outlook on aspects of life. Nothing is simple, nobody is predictable, and most importantly – things do not get easier. On the other hand, nothing is as bad as it seems and things always work out in some way or another. I have spent the majority of this semester building friendships and networking myself out to others; where I used to be terrified of being alone, I have come to appreciate my own company more than before. So this has been a semester of reflection and self-improvement for me. Christmas is now approaching and for the first time in years, I am truly excited for the New Year because I believe I have matured enough to handle life’s challenges and adventures on my own, without anyone else. I do not expect things to improve – but I now realize that between music, friends, and family – they do not need to. Life is what one makes of it and sometimes a new perception is all you need to change for the better.

-D

Oct. 28, 2007.

On Sunday, my University lost six students. Clemson lost one, as well.

Seven young, intelligent, bright young people with seven families and numerous loved ones that now mourn their passing. It seems to be hitting our community pretty hard, even those that did not know them personally. For one person to pass is hard. But for a group to pass, it truly is a tragedy. No words seem to convey how everyone is feeling. It has been a solemn week so far here at USC.

Our past few football games have not been so great, but I am proud to be a Gamecock. It is times like these that we show our true colors. We have come together and have had numerous memorials already with more to come. Although six of the victims are from our school, we also recognize the seventh victim from our rival, Clemson. We are no longer rivalry schools... just people mourning the loss of great people that we knew or will never get the chance to know.

I believe what has struck me the most is the fact that I've seen at least a couple of these students walking around campus before in passing. I never knew them, and it is sad that I only learned their names through their deaths. Maybe it's something to do with how these students lost their lives, to a fire, that makes us all feel helpless. We know that their friends were helpless in the situation and are lucky to be alive. We feel for them, too. A brother lost his brother in the fire. Friends lost friends. We all begin to realize that we are not invincible although we are young. All we can do now is offer condolences to the friends and families of the victims and help each other move on, though never forgetting.

Condolences

I send out my condolences to all of the families and friends involved in the terrible tragedy that left seven students dead after a brutal fire at a North Carolina beach house. 6 of them were students at my own school and it is truly sad to see such things occur. Once again, the realization that we're not immortal sinks in. Anyone who may read this - please keep these students and families in your thoughts and prayers.

-D

Romantics Staring Into The Sun

A dying glimmer of hope can stretch for miles with nowhere to rest, not a peaceful moment to cope, with a grip of mentality and strengthened mortality as an excuse upon the lips. Where are the words that are whispered in thin wisps of chilled air towards another who lies breathing and living beside? They fade and are consumed by surrounding atmospheres rather than the ears for which they were intended. Smooth sailing sinks into failing, a slice in the fabric gives way to an entire break from knowledge and wisdom and perhaps even love for if love ever lived we'd all be hopeless and romantic.

A tip of the hat in a moment in passing can express nothing and only feel habitual like the slow intake of air and the faster exhale of lies that grow and turn over in our rapidly pacing graves that sink lower into water and fill higher with dirt. What does it mean when a smile grows upon a face but is never really felt like the thought that the sun only existed to blind us? We ponder and wonder since our own existence surely means so much as we look directly at it for all of the answers that actually lie beneath us. In a capacity of minds that only use a portion, we expect so much and act on so little.

Remember.

Remember the time, where your dreams came true? Laughter. Love. Joy. The moon is always full reflecting over the ocean. Smiling at a mere image in your mind, remembering everything that is grand – overlooking anything that is not. Reflecting on the time, where life was simple and care free. Ambitious. Excited. Motivated. Rising up on the crest of a wave, overlooking a horizon lined with potential. Time wears on, the wave begins to tumble – what once was clear is now amuck with sand and stones. Washed up, the steady rhythm of responsibilities slowly erode the very ground that you lie on. Stuck in this rhythm of rising and falling – life slowly moves itself on. Remember the time, where your dreams came true? Where perspective had no reach at all. Dreams of grandeur echoing through your prospective future. I remember that time, where a reality sunk in. Responsibility. Redundant. Repetition. Progressing through life, dreams replaced by work. I remember these times – these milestone moments. With tears in my eyes.

Connections of Prose

This road connects us from them, one generation to the next. Many have worn down this path before; we're not the first to break down this door. The knocks are repetitious and forever conscious as thoughts stream out the open window into the trailing air that gets sucked under the motion that separates us. Think of a time when you're leaving someone behind and all you can do is remember the many moments where a smile was brought to your face. Lines around the very mouth that has whispered and spoken continuous promises and goodbyes are embedded as the seconds fly by. And you drive away.

A dancer twirls with music painting its picture, acting as her partner across the stage. She gracefully moves as if the clouds above are now her prancing grounds with hardly a sound being made from her beneath her feet. Instead, the visions and symphonies become one in front of your eyes, and you breathe it in as you recognize real passion. In a world where simplistic pleasures are taken for granted and luxuries are out of reach, this dance is what makes us alive. Breathe the music as your air and walk as if your joints could speak since there are many stories to tell... and words can fall short. I may be alone on this worn stage of worries and pains, but this will always exist -- beyond the roads, the travels, the greetings and goodbyes.

Calm Before the Storm

The Calm Before the Storm

With elections around the corner, world war 3 a grim reality in the near future, and being immersed in the youthful next generation of leaders – things are surprisingly calm. Many have opinions few express them. We’re a generation of pacifists – waiting on others to make changes for us. The last generation was full of activism that has diminished into what one could argue isn’t even an echo of what it once was. Many have exclaimed that if certain candidate gets elected that they will move out of the country, which saddens me. Running does not fix things – and it’s almost to the point where the public voice isn’t really heard. One thing I have noticed though is we’re being pushed more and more every day – things are getting to the point where people are starting to lose their calm. I believe that very shortly there will be a public outcry for change. I am far from a revolutionist and I too am guilty of letting things slide in recent years, but I realize now that my generation is growing up – No longer children safe under our parent’s guidance – We’ve been thrust into a crazy world with no choice but to make decisions. I can only hope that others realize this before things get too out of hand. With disaster, war, and the constant bombardment of bad news, raising prices, and increased tensions we truly are the calm before the storm. The next several years will be defining in our history – I can only hope that we have the strength and the courage to step up to this new tidal wave of responsibilities.

--D

Sciatica?

Lately, I've been in pain. A year or so ago, I went to the doctor about my hip always hurting and it spreading down to my ankle. I was told that I have sciatica (not really a diagnosis since its just a term used to describe an underlying problem... which I don't know yet since they didn't figure that part out). I was given some medication that was supposed to help since it was not believed to be any of the more severe forms of sciatica.. however, it didn't help. Since then, I have moved to Columbia and haven't been to the doctor again. I quit dancing because although it is important to remain somewhat active.. dancing was too much, I guess.

So now as I walk around campus every day, I'm realizing that my "hip" is starting to hurt more, and by the end of the day, I am sometimes even limping due to the weakness it causes. Sciatica is supposedly supposed to go away after a few months at the most... and occurs at the ages of 30-50. Either the doctors were wrong... or it's worse than they thought... or both. I don't know, but I've always hated going to the doctor because it feels like they are just taking stabs in the dark until they figure out the right answer.

I suppose I'm just frustrated that I'm letting it bother me so much. Sometimes its not so bad. Other times I can't concentrate in class because all I can focus on is pain. Considering I have had a problem like this since ninth grade of high school, and I have been told its anything from growing pains to sciatica... I'm not sure on what it is anymore.

Slowing down.

Slowing down, these last few days
The momentum is quickly slowing.
Music and countless thoughts -
Flowing throughout the mind.

Slowing down, these last few days
Constantly searching for clarity
Ceaseless questions and scenarios
'What if' echoes through memories.

Slowing down, these last few days
Ambition becomes put on hold.
Coasting to a stop. Weak. Tired.
Serene and eerie all at once.

Slowing down, these last few days
Life seems to be on hold.
Uncomfortably sustained .
Unwillingly halted.

Freedom and Hopelessness

I have always had problems in my life, usually pretty serious. Be it health problems, family problems, or relationship problems – I’ve been through the hoops so to speak. As a result, I have learned to observe situations and interactions with a keen eye. I thrust myself into situations head first and try and document them as they happen in my mind. This practice makes up a large part of my life recently. I write sometimes, for the particularly memorable experiences – or conclusions drawn from them. Recently I traveled to the State Fair, common practice assuming I live down the road from it – but before I went, I became thoroughly inebriated – which was an experience in an of itself. By the time I arrived at the gates for the fair, the officer at the ticket desk asked me if I had been drinking, I hastily said no and proceeded to stumble into a world of what one can only describe as utterly terrifying. Growing up in the southeastern United States, I have always associated fairs with a good time. It’s the American pastime one week out of the year. It’s really a sad reflection of our society – pouring money away for cheap 3 minute thrills and tacky games where actually winning is about as probable as winning a lottery. Immersed in a world of screaming, strobe lights, shouting, and big mechanical metal structures hastily built swinging all around at speeds that are unnatural, I realized that I’ve had nightmares very similar to these. By the point we had made it across the grounds – I was deeply fixated on figuring out why so many people love this kind of setting. By that point, the clarity of it all begins to sink in. It’s a deep seated idea embedded in our heads from childhood that we can win it all effortlessly. The American dream has shifted from what was once one of hard work and taking care of each other into cheap thrills and reckless gambling. We’re worms squirming to get to the top after a heavy rain. After a few hours of wandering around this cesspool, we finally began to walk back to the apartment. I was drained, from walking through the rain and also from the poisons I put into my bloodstream. Regardless, this was an experience that I will never forget. With yet another act of debauchery and recklessness under my belt, I continue on with my life, experiencing things for the sake of the memories. Living and learning – but most importantly observing.

Footprints Receding

with words dripping,
letters returning,
apologies surrounding,
and lives moving
onward, forwards...
we have this moment.

footprints in the sand
wiped down by your hands.

eyes keep searching
with guidance leaving.
keep your constant questions.
answers won't define lessons.

every nerve bleeds the same
no one views this way.
have we nothing left to do
but complain of mistakes
we only repeat.

footprints in the sand
wiped down by your hands.

capable of breathing
releasing old feelings.
our minds work in reverse,
growing up with lessons learned.
second chances go undeserved,
and life is proclaimed unfair.

footprints in the sand
wiped down by your hands.

Word vomit.

I think the hardest part of writing is starting. So here's my beginning - big leap into the middle of everything.

Lately, I've felt a little bit disconnected. I've come to realize that when I have a lot of my mind, I don't turn to such substances as drugs or alcohol because it's pointless. I've been there and done that. Turning myself into a numb shell of drunken ramblings as a source of entertainment is of no use to me anymore. The things that continue to follow me around will still be there when I wake up the next morning, only to make me feel worse. So instead, I've been dwelling. It may not be much better, but at least things are being faced.

I realize that I'm coming up on twenty years of age soon, and I, if fate will have it, will have many more years to experience. But as I said before, I feel disconnected. Not alone. I have family and friends that both love me, and I'm not unaware of that. However, I know I've put up some sort of wall... I've been separating myself from everyone. And maybe I'm starting to figure it out.

Within a weeks time, I had a lot of things slap me in the face. I lost a friendship that I used to think was a major part of my life. He meant a great deal to me, and I loved his company. I cared deeply about him as a person and as my friend. Now that it's gone, I guess I'm still standing in disbelief at how it all went down. From what I understand, much of the blame rests on my shoulders. But that's how it goes, right? We obviously don't see eye-to-eye. And it happens. I'm okay with that. I'm not okay, however, with how he made me feel. I've had too many people make me feel that way in my life, and that I allowed it to happen again makes me angry. Not at him. At myself. I've been told that one of my best traits is that I look for the good in everyone. Maybe I'm just becoming a cynic, but I find it to be my worst flaw. My philosophy was to always give people a second chance... a third or fourth chance, even. See, I'm human. I have made plenty of mistakes for I am far from perfect. Thus, I do try to find the good in everyone. I do hand out trust, chances, and forgiveness. Maybe this is where I'm supposed to learn. Not everyone deserves it. But how do I decide who does or who doesn't? It's confusing because it is part of who I am. I went through a dark part of my life where I lied to a lot of people that I cared about. I was angry at the world for what a stranger did to me, and I changed. Completely. Some people forgave me. Some didn't. And through that experience, I realized why I so easily give those I care about chances... sometimes we all do dumb things for one reason or another. I feel as though circumstances can change a lot in a person. I guess after a while, a line has to be drawn. I tried with this guy. And it still stings because sometimes I do find myself missing his company. But not him. Because he isn't who I thought he was. And that happens sometimes... part of learning, I guess.

My dad has a girlfriend. I'm just assuming that they've been dating for quite a while. My sister and I would occasionally hear about her in a general way throughout the road trips and phone calls. However, I recently found out that this woman from Ohio is now living in my dad's home. The hard part? I didn't know her name. In fact, I didn't... and still don't... know anything about her. I've always been a hardcore Daddy's girl. I took comfort in knowing my dad was not far away. Over the years, we've grown apart as age seems to do to parents and their kids but... we were still always close at heart. Yet, he wasn't the one to tell me. My sister was. And the whole situation seems so wrong that I can't even wrap my head around it. All of a sudden, there's a new life back home. When I come home, it won't be the same. And I'm used to things like that happening, but not with him. I don't understand. I grew up quite used to being second in my mother's life. Suddenly, the roles are switched again.

Speaking of my mother, she is getting married in two days. I'm not going to put forth any effort in contemplating that one because for too many years, that's all it's been about. She's dated other people than my dad for a long time... I'm used to it. The only hard part is this will be the first time she will be married to someone other than Dad. The ironic part? She seemed happier with Dad. Goes to show you how easily one can be deceived. She's happy, though. That's all that really matters, anyway.

I guess to sum everything up, I have felt second in my loved one's lives for a while. Everyone has his or her own situations in which they must dwell and move through. I can't help but feel left behind throughout it all. But that's life, I guess. Hanging on where you can, struggling to make something out of yourself, to stand apart from the ghosts that hold you back. I tend to hide myself away from others when I have a lot running through my head. It isn't always intentional. In fact, it usually isn't. Looking back on this week, I can definitely see where I've put up a barrier between myself and my friends and boyfriend. I'm tired of being slapped in the face. Of things changing. My whole life seems to be a transition from one person to the next whether it be friends, boyfriends, or family. But I know that change happens a lot, and I adjust pretty well to it. Every now and then, we all need a breather. I suppose this week has just been a really long breather for me.

This hasn't been a carefully analyzed and edited editorial of any kind. This is simply word vomit onto an electronic blog because lately I feel like I've had too much on my plate. So if anyone has been wondering how I've been doing... here's your answer.

"I never knew that everything was falling through / That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue / To turn and run when all I needed was the truth"

Fall, The Ocean, and Depravity of the Soul.

Day 1:

After briefly spewing out a speech on the patriot act and our freedom of speech, I hastily ran to my car, or at least what’s left of my car. After several trees, numerous road trips, and being stolen – my car has seen much better days. Now, it pops out of park if I’m not careful and there’s merely a mess of wires where my radio once layed. With Adventure in mind, I set off for Radioshack. It was finally fall break and I had to rig up some kind of device to get music back in my car – for I was going to Myrtle Beach for 4 days of adventure and tyranny. After several hours searching, I finally found a cheap boombox from K-Mart – a shopping center that I had thought was gone forever until I stumbled upon it. Flash, it’s now 11:00 – and two of my good friends are riding with me towards the beach, a 3 or so hour drive on the dullest, possibly the worst interstate in existence.. I-20. Being sober for 4 days in a row, I’m experiencing an odd clarity to my mind – something that’s both unwelcome and unfamiliar. Clarity of the mind leads to self-reflection at some point in time, and that’s just something I try and avoid at all costs. Upon arriving at the beach, going to Wal-Mart – America’s #1 feted cesspool of inbreeding, cheaply made imports, and corporate corruption – and cooking some dinner, consciousness immediately faded into sleep.

Day 2:
Waking up at noon is a truly degrading feeling. Opening your eyes and immediately seeing the sun above the sky uncomfortably thrusts the cold truth of being a lazy degenerate down one’s throat. The day goes slowly – filled with music and the ocean – a constant reminder in this trip of the depravity in me... that life is consistent with or without me, which is a beautiful and eerie reminder that I’m stuck in the middle grounds, neither success or failures really matter – unless I can somehow manage an extremity. Around noon, my blood alcohol content is steadily raising. In preparation for the upcoming show – “I’ll drink to that” reverberates throughout the apartment. The show is pretty amazing, the opening band, Fair to Midland, rocks to high heaven – after spending almost an hour trying to remember where I have seen them – flashbacks of previous concerts pour through my mind and I come to the realization that if I were deaf, I would be an utterly broken person, not to give anyone the impression that I am currently a whole person – but the point is that music is my outlet and in a sense my soul. After several hours of rocking out we head back to the condo – When we get back – a harmless card games turns into hours of slurred speech, blurry memories, and impaired judgment. At one point someone points out that “There’s thousands, possibly millions of gallons of water in that ocean – that’s a lot of water man” – at this point my mind was baffled. I was standing 9 floors up on a balcony overlooking millions of gallons of water; my friend was so right – that was a lot of water. I immediately became thirsty and staggered inside for another drink. From this point until I wake up the next day, my memories only exist in short thirty second bursts and my vision was deteriorating into what I can only describe as a static filled television. After several philosophical conversations, uncontrollable laughter, and the steady and unchanging ocean – I finally met my end for the night, only to wake up at an even later point in the next day solidifying my suspicions that I have yet to find a purpose in life.
Day 3:
On the third day we all rested both our minds and bodies. A brief adventure to get breakfast, I explained to a baffled waitress that lemon in coffee is the only way to drink it. She replied that in thirty years of waiting tables, she had never seen that before. For years I’ve been putting lemon in my coffee – what started as a drunken prank has turned into one of my favorite beverages. It gives one a sense of class and style, individuality and grandeur, putting lemon in coffee. Always there are non-believers who refuse to even comprehend the idea of zesty and bitter in a mug. Needless to say, I told the waitress that she is lucky she went to work today, because quite frankly, she learned the most amazing secret to enjoying coffee, and now she has the knowledge to pass it on to the masses. My mind has long since lost the clarity that I spoke so disdainfully about in my previous documentation of this trip. I’m mumbling to myself about trend-setting and revolutionizing the coffee industry. After a few minutes of strange looks from all sides of the table, I coolly blurt out some trivial fact about the French toast on the menu. Not that it mattered, but it was a keen distraction for those that cannot comprehend my zesty creation. The evening results in three of us driving around the strip – looking for adventure in all the wrong places. We arrive at Broadway at the beach, run around for what feels like a few hours – rent two movies – and head back to the condo. We all have a stoic look on our faces, for we have made a decision that will not be simple. We’re going to stay up till the sun rises over the ocean. Upon our arrival I immediately start drinking to ensure that I do not get involved with a little tension between my two remaining guests. Quickly after the first movie is over, my fragile mind is broken. I fall asleep holding a now-empty gallon of wine – only to wake up rambling about how it is a good girlfriend because it doesn’t call me stupid. After an hour or so of babbling and singing in half a daze – I finally awaken just in time to watch the sun rise over the ocean – one of the most beautiful sights one can witness in this area. With the mission accomplished, sleep quickly takes hold of me yet again.
Day 4-5.
The rest of the trip is absolute relaxation and rest. We stay at the condo and watch TV and movies the entire day. Nothing too much – our trip is coming to an end. The next day we clean and pack up for the trip home. Our adventure is over – with many pictures and stories to document it in our memories – we all are a little sad about leaving. The monotony of life will hit us hard on Monday. With several tests, countless of hours of homework and studying, and early classes every day, my week looks grim. Now here I am, sitting outside of a Starbucks getting my daily dose of caffeine, typing up the rest of this narrative. Once again that eerie clarity in my mind has returned and self-reflection has once again been eating away in the back of my thoughts. So my fearless readers – I’ll raise my glass to you all and drink to the next adventure in the near or distant future.


-D

Sleepless in Columbia

Insomnia creeps into the mind, pulsing in the veins, keeping these thoughts alive. Creating the breaths that live between each sigh of frustration, quiet cultivates inside of an empty chamber where the silence reverberates back to a solemn heart. Counting the dust specks that collect on the ceiling, one wonders how old one has become in the time past. Questions such as these, that hold little meaning and certainly no real answer, become the sleepless as the sleepless seeps into insanity's grip. Time is a threatening factor when there is no time to rest, to reset, or even to forget. Instead -- life stares you in the face even when you close your eyes (for closing your eyes does not substitute for an unforgiving mind)... you can hear its heart beating as worthless dreams never reach the unconscious, although deemed vital to one's well-being. Never missing a moment, life becomes even longer. Embrace? Or rinse it all down in a glass of water.

101

I'm so complex that it seems so simple. So easy. To sit back and let me react to the world in the ways that I know best is to finally understand me. I never react the same way, and I always am predictable in this fashion. I'm obsessive, compulsive, and a perfectionist. Everything in my world fits in the way it should, and if it doesn't, I feel a constant hovering sense of dread and anxiety. I'm a being of opposites, however, because I'm random and spontaneous at the flip of a coin.

Therefore, I write. Thus, I am sensible.

I've always enjoyed writing whether it be blogging or poetry, fiction or rants and raves. It's a sense of getting to know yourself, where it all gathers and festers... my mind holds a lot of groundwork for why I am the way I am. Writing, to me, captures the essence of the thing, as Socrates argues each individual must strive to do. Why not start with oneself? Writing is where I make sense. Therefore, I am.

I'm 19, and I have a lot of passion for arts. The arts seem to bring to light the perspectives of the world that the general public look past. The complexity of life can be found in all forms of art -- photography, paintings, dance, literature -- and somehow makes it all beautifully simplistic.

So I guess this blog is where a few of us will allow our perspectives on life and its many assets to gather and perhaps even make sense.

A quarter past midnight.

A quarter past midnight is about the time where your mind starts the tedious process of retaining and sorting through the unbelievably large amount of information we gather in our heads each day. Sadly enough, although the amount of things we think about, gather, sense, and experience in day to day life is so large it’s beyond measure, what we actually retain is nearly minuscule. My aim, in this blog, is to try and capture some of these thoughts and memories that might otherwise be lost to the obnoxiously efficient and rational filtering process of the human brain. Although a Gander of Thoughts is not restricted to any specific purpose, it is not without one either. It is day to day thoughts and experiences that several people at an age and place where change and experience is inevitable. This blog will not only document our growth – but it also will prove to be a unique perspective on our surroundings, society, and even country itself. With that out of the way, who is the man behind this blog?

I’m a 19 year old college student who drinks strong coffee poured over a tall glass cup full of ice every single morning. I’ll drink anything with a bite, preferably 20 proof or more. I’m someone that lives to experience rather than experience to live. I enjoy life to its very fullest, writing about it from time to time. A happy cynic, who joyfully accepts life’s fateful realities. All experiences, both good and bad, are worthwhile because they create the person I am. Good music, good friends, and an interesting story make life worth living. I enjoy going on adventures and finding joy in things that nobody else takes the time to notice.

There’s no biography of me – but through my writings and stories you can piece together an idea of what I am like and what I have seen and maybe even a little of what I have experienced in life.

-D