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.