I try to write everyday. I don't always use it but I usually like it.

There will be times you do something great in this world, son.  You will look at your work and think, “wow, only I could have made this.  The only person in the whole world”.  And you will show people your work and then they will look at it for a moment and say, “it’s good”.  Pizza is good, an extra hour of sleep is good, getting a close parking space is good.  What you made was incredible, one of a kind.  But they will call it good and walk away or look back at what they are doing.  What are you to do?  Nothing, kid.  You keeping working.  This world eats geniuses and free thinkers and originality and then spits it out and goes on with its day.  Pay it no mind.

Let The Show Go On

            The “thing” you could find this last week at the Jessica-Antonio household was the TV blaring episode-after-episode of “That 70’s Show” while we tinkered around the place (Unless a Brewers game was on).  I grew up watching that show, and even though I may know every joke, every plot line, every device (they jumped the shark, like, three times) it can still squeeze some laughs out of me.  It helps that Jess is a new viewer, re-watching a comedy with a newcomer refreshes the experience, you look to them to have validation that what you think is funny is funny (laugh with me!).

            To take from this show’s theme song (the “same thing we did last week” bit) my life, and Jess’, has been its own marathon of reruns of sorts.  We did a lot of the same things daily over the last months of relative freedom (Check: Summer).  But I didn’t grow bored.  Sometimes the expected laughs are better because you know the good times are here.  What was done wasn’t much, but what was done was fun.  There was some unforgettable, at this moment only times, but between these there was plenty of the good ol’ reruns, you knew what was coming but that was okay because you liked it.

            But there’s that point where the rerun runs out its welcome, and we did eventually say no more to that show of yesteryear.  Variety is still the spice of life, and rerun after rerun of a sitcom is the direct opposite of that.

            Here I find my parallel: I had a literature teacher who believes a book can find you at the right time in your life and give you a lesson or perspective you don’t find in other places.  I for sure agree with this, and I can see it in the reading I did all this summer.  Only this time for me it was a simple sitcom, “70’s Show”.  It didn’t hit me the same way I took in Slaughter House-Five or Pride & Prejudice (name dropping, ftw), but it did show up on our local tv listings at a transition period for this household’s focus.

            You see, The Show Must Go On.  It’s Labor Day.  Summer is dead.  We need to continue our march to whatever we seek next.  Me, I’m going to back to the books and papers and space-out sesh’s that is college classes, and I am going to finish my first degree with a pimp slap to show it whose boss.  Jess is doing much of the same, minus the bitch slapping part (maybe).  I enjoyed my summer of reruns (with occasional fresh stories) but I am ready to move on to some new, meaty story.

            Not to say I won’t enjoy the occasional repeat.  A good time never goes out of style.

            I’m ready to write some new chapters.  Let the Show Go On.

            

Yeah, I had an Idea for a Story One time...

A story about a lawyer who does not argue.  I got the inspiration while at work, I realized there's many times where, in my head, I think of an objection to everyday tasks but I decide to not verbalize it.  I enjoy my Path of Least Resistance when it comes to these things that I don't give a rat's end either way about, but I am always pretty close to going the route of IAA (Insufferable, Argumentative Ass).  Maybe one day when I have a few cups of coffee over the norm.

However, speaking of IAA's, I just realized the ridiculousness of my literary idea.  The Law of Occupation (It's real, I just made it) dictates lawyers must be Insufferable, Argumentative Asses.  It is kind of the whole theme of the justice system.  This story would delve far too into the realm of fantasy to be accepted by anyone.  Get your head in the game, Tony!

Just another moment in my head.  Get out while you can.

Spirit

I have a confession.  I can be lazy.  Unambitious.  I set deadlines for myself, then I let them pass.  Guilt-free sometimes.  Most times not, I do know what I am doing isn't productive so I half-smile through my distraction.  I put off writing a lot because I enjoy it, but I want to be "good" at it.  Sometimes when you have that issue the easiest thing is to just not do it.

But, of course, that is the wrong way to handle it.  So sometimes I do plant my ass down and force myself to let spill whatever may come.  It's those times I look at the clock and see it reads 4 a.m., and I am caught wondering why do I put this writing thing off so much.  As soon as I start I can't always stop.  It just takes that first, forced step.

All this aside, this is a reflection on what it feels to write with this reckless abandon I will suddenly find myself in:

I don't always believe I am always the one who speaks through these words I loosely thread together in attempts to convey some sort of meaning.  No, I feel at times this pen scratches away at the paper with an awareness all its own, I am merely its vehicle, its harbinger for whatever news it brings.  This is not a common occurrence, but when it comes to me worry washes away and I am left with a clean desire to just say what it is I want to say.

It saddens me that I don't always feel this energy, this spirit.  The worry returns.  Quite often.  If I feel I can't say the right things in the right way I want them to be I sometimes feel it is better to not even try.  The spirit abandons me.  She is a busy spirit, I understand.  And there is no growth without struggle.  The spirit leaves me at times so I find my own way.  There is no success without the failure, bad days are just as important as the good ones.

So, I would rather the spirit does not grace me at all times, there are times I need to leave myself vulnerable to those negative and defeating thoughts so I can struggle to find meaning, purpose, and the drive to seek my vision by conquering these obstacles.  I would rather it be that way.  I would rather scratch and scrape my way through the jungle of struggle.  Because the honey is sweetest if you find it on a path you forge on your own.

However, a great comfort in life is for someone to hold you close and say, "It will be alright, this too shall pass"

So Spirit come back to me soon.  We have much to discuss and much to say.  I want to learn what it is to hear with not just my ears but with my heart and my pen....

So...Yes.

Hey wa-oh, I'm writing on here again?

Well..long story sh...well more like, well, there really is no story, actually.  I just got lazy and stopped adding my writings up here.  But I think I will work on updating when I can so all three of you can read whatever I throw up  (see also: regurgitate) here.  Thanks again!  Yeah.  Okay.

I wrote this for future GandG material (Yeah, Kevin, that means our band.  Garrick, too, but I highly doubt Garrick would take the time to bother reading this.  Prove me wrong, foo!):

Music Won’t Save Your Soul

If you don’t even know how

Music won’t be your answer

If you don’t know the question

So ask away

And see what they have to say

We grew up in another's care

Mothers and fathers

Lovers and sinners

We began this world wrapped in arms

We have since moved on

And so here we are

Sons of no one

And so here it is

Some ill forgotten –time

In another lost generation

Is that what we really want?

Or do we make our own history?

Today

Today

Today

Let’s make our own history

Today

The Best Day of Your Life.

Today Is The Best Day of Your Life.

Any arguments?  Okay, one at a time.

The past?  Dead.  1 second ago, 10 minutes ago, 4 hours ago, 1 week ago, 10 months ago, 2 years ago?  All history.  All dead.  How can the best day of your life be one that is no longer with us?  The only thing that exists is right now.  However, the past is far from useless.  It is where all our lessons lie; everything we learned about everything.  We use that knowledge every second of everyday; until that time dies as well and we grow further.  So many of us spend the present running, chasing, being embarrassed about our past.  Erroneous.  How can we be hurt by something that no longer exists?  The past gives us memories to cherish and lessons.  A vital part of making today the Best Day of Your Life.

The Future?  Limitless.  An endless fountain of possibilities.  The key to unlocking those possibilities lies in yesterday.  The ability to achieve those possibilities lies in this moment.  The Best Day of Your Life.

Today?  The past is gone; it cannot hurt you, but has taught you.  The future is limitless; its possibility is endless.  The thing that lies between the two are this moment; this day.  The Best Day of Your Life.

Celebrate The Dead.

ACT ONE: HERE COMES THE FLOODWORKS.

Well good ol’ Benjamin Franklin said the quintessential quote to properly summarize life, according to popular belief.

“The only things certain in life are Death and Taxes”.

I’d like to add only one, single, revision to that.

“The only things certain in life are Death, Taxes, and a Beautiful woman will break your heart at one point.”

And make that “at a few points” for some of us.  Ain’t going to name names, however.  I find confidentially among us humanoids is a prized possession, though I don’t exactly know why.  It is a great irony that is actually quite hilarious.  But we’ll save that for another time.

So yeah, death is really the most certain thing of the two (or three, if you buy my revision).  You see, “tax evasion”, or the evading of paying taxes, is possible.  Some aren’t as successful at it (Sorry, Mr. Snipes), but it is still possible.  Except if you buy something from any store.  Okay, so it maybe isn’t so easy to evade.  Damn taxes.  It’s like a lost puppy dog, and you have bacon in your back pocket.  Your wallet, to be exact.

Anyways, taxes bore the revenue right out of me.  I want to talk about Death.  Sorry, didn’t mean to be so macabre so fast.  

Though, I am quite the fan of Edgar Allan Poe.

I think we have Death all wrong.  We treat it as such a tragedy, a thing to fear, the ultimate defeat.

Hell, I think death is the best thing that can happen to you.

Macabre.  Me.  Again.

Okay, Death really is tragic.  The first meaningful death occurred for me when we had to put the family’s cat to rest.  Sabrina.  I had just turned 14 years old 4 days before.  I loved her, she was around since I was 3 or 4 years old, and she was my sister.  She was a beautiful kitty; a prima donna who always made sure her fur was spotless.  I remember taking her to the veterinarian for the last time.  I held her as my mom drove.  I remember as she jumped up and looked out the window at all the action that was occurring.  So tragic, as it would be her last car ride, and as an animal she had no idea.  Then again, how many of us are ever prepared for when someone we love passes on?  Or, for that matter, we never know when it is our time.  When we will have our last car ride.  The last time we see the beauty that is truly inherent on this rock.

You see, Sabrina began to become senile, she didn’t always know what was going on all the time.  It could have been time.  But I still think she could have stayed around for some years.  We just would have had to been more patient.

It was worse when we got to the veterinarian.  And I still don’t know why we did what we did.  It haunts me.  Even now it produces tears.  We make it into the room; the veterinarian supplies the tranquilizer so Sabrina won’t feel anything.  He explains that she will slowly go numb, and then administer the drug, and Sabrina will go peacefully.  I remember watching as my sister had that shot injected to her, and her hind legs began to twitch, and gave way.  She would stand never again.  Now, when I think about how she laid there I think of all the countless days and years I saw her lay like that in any available sunlight that poured through our home.  But this was her final resting place.

This is the moment where I lose comprehension.  My mother and I, maybe the veterinarian dismissed us and I don’t remember that detail, but before Sabrina, my beloved, crazy, sister takes her last breath, my mother and I leave.  My last words to my dear sister:  “Goodbye, Kitty.”

What the hell?

I remember when we returned home that night.  My mother and I held each other as we both cried, a breakdown, for a long time.  It just hurt me so bad, struck me to my core.  But all I can think of now is how Sabrina’s last sight on this earth was some doctor she never knew in her life.  All I can think about what her little cat mind was thinking as she slowly drifted into an artificial sleep.

What am I thinking?  How is Death the best thing to happen to us?

The hardest Death I’ve experienced was the Death of my Great Grandmother, Esther, in my first year of high school.  Words cannot describe how great my Great Grandmother was.  Problem is, everyone who has had the privilege of knowing their Great Grandmother would probably say the same thing, words cannot describe their Great Grandmother.  So poor Esther can doubly never be described.  However, my dear Great Grandmother was a saint; not once in the 15 years I was able to know her did she speak ill once of anyone.  In all of my Mother’s life, which bests mine by 32 years, my Mother heard her swear once.  One time.  My Mother knew Great Grandma for 47 years.  I swear every damn minute.

One of my favorite memories of my Great Grandmother was before I was even born.  In fact, it was when my brother was being born.  While my Mother was screaming and cursing through the battle that is childbirth labor with my dear brother, the one to always give everyone aches and pains, my Great Grandmother arrived.  As soon as my Great Grandmother arrived, my dear Mommy stopped the obscenities immediately, and followed good ol’ Great Grandmother in prayer.

That was Great Grandmother for you.  She brought upon a peace you could never fully explain.  The visits to her home never had any ounce of negativity, boredom, or triteness.  Perfect, beautiful, weekends.

Then like all elderly do at one time or another, she died.  

I remember getting to see her for the last time on her death bed.  So very sad.  She was so very sick.  So it was a relief to find out the day her suffering at the end could stop.

The lasting tragic memory of when it dawned on me Great Grandma was gone was at the funeral service.  I remember my Mother reading something she wrote about my Greatest Grandma, as I held my niece Ciara, 4 years old.  We both began to cry.  I held my dear niece close and cried tears of silence.  Tears for my Great Grandma.

My Great Grandma taught me one of the greatest things possible.  Her inherent goodness, to the point where it was saintly, has made me hold firm to the belief that goodness can conquer all.  Goodness is wellness of the spirit.  Because of Great Grandma, I know a soul surges within me.  I know a soul surges within us all.

Whew, this is getting hard.  But believe me, Death is the greatest thing that can happen in our life.

See, Death is only death of the body.  I’ve written before how nobody is lost forever in Death.  Once somebody dies, the people that somebody left behind lives.  And through their lives that someone lives on.  The lessons my Great Grandmother taught me with her existence exist in me, they are a large core of who I am.  And I guarantee I am far from the only one when concerning my Great Grandmother.  Each of us will spread those lessons through our own lives.  It will reach others, strangers to my Great Grandmother.  And 

through this, my Great Grandmother is forever.

END OF ACT ONE

ACT TWO: TURNING THE FROWN UPSIDE-DOWN

Death, truly, is the best thing that will happen in our lives.

In life, we are constantly miserable.  We don’t sleep enough.  We sleep too much.  We are too fucking fat.  School is boring.  School is expensive.  Work is boring.  I don’t have enough money.  Suzie is a whore.  John is an asshole.

Humans are so miserable they try to self destruct themselves!  World War anybody?

I figured out why.

Life frickin’ sucks.

Have you ever been hungry?  Hell yeah, you have.  It turns you into a fucking animal.  All you can think about is how you can totally go for a pizza, veggie burger, knuckle sandwich, so forth.  You stop focusing on whatever, probably more important, thing you were doing.  All you can think of is the hunger.

Then you satisfy it.  Then guess what.  You’re fucking hungry again!  It is a vicious cycle that never ends. 

Until you die!

What about shitting.  Yeah, you do it.  Me too.  And yes, girls do poop.  Believe me, I read Everybody Poops.  It implies, rather implicitly, everybody does the poop.  Yeah, it is disgusting, but we do it.  But you know what the worst thing about pooping is?  Convenience factor.  Your body’s pooping function never bothers you at opportune times, where you aren’t very busy and a detour to the bathroom doesn’t really interfere.  It always insists on being times where you don’t have the time!  About the only good thing is the ample reading time pooping gives you. 

Even worse is when you aren’t in the comfort of your own home.  Shit!  Quite literally.  So you go find the nearest restroom.  But of course as soon as you run in there and begin your business that is the time when the restroom becomes the place to be.  All of a sudden you got a parade of people going through your temporary shit sanctuary.  It is much like flies to dog shit.

Then you do your business.  Guess what.  Poop has another appointment booked in the next day or so.

Until you die!

Going to sleep sucks.  A proper night of sleep is 8 hours.  You know how much stuff one can do in 8 hours.  They can watch artificial life (i.e. movies and such) for 8 hours!  Or, you know, live their own lives.

But, not getting enough sleep sucks even harder.  It makes everything a drag, your essence is just nowhere to be found.

The whole bullshit about sleep sucks.

Until you die!

School sucks.  You learn in classrooms for 12+ years for what, you have somebody look at a piece of paper that tells them you learned something, therefore, conceivably, they can hire you to do whatever mundane tasks they need you to do.

Until you die!

Work sucks.  They pay you to bust your caboose or noodle; you spend more time doing it than anything else, most likely with people that make your skin crawl.

Until you die!

Bills suck.  They are much like pooping and being hungry.  An endless cycle.

Until you die!

See, when somebody dies they don’t need to deal with this bullshit anymore.  Death is the best thing that can happen to you.

END OF ACT 2

ACT 3: CELEBRATE THE DEAD

When someone dies, they leave us behind.  All the lessons, all the memories, all they stood for, it stays behind.  It stays with us.  We carry on these things in our own hearts, and we spread the joy and wisdom they bring to others.

We are the sole reasons for anyone to reach immortality.  And it is possible for each and every one of us to become immortal.  But first, we need to leave that mark on others.  And we need to decide what mark it is we want to leave.  But always be aware what you do in this life will be remembered, it will last longer than you ever possibly could.  That is the greatest thing to know, but also the scariest.

So when we say our final goodbyes to somebody, there will no doubt be tears.  Sadness.  It  can be looked at as a tragedy.  However, I feel there are worse things than Death.  Living a life that never reaches its potential.  Taking life for granted, sprinting far too fast towards Death.  But those that were aware the time we have here is vital, spent it wisely on those that mattered to them, spent it wisely on the things they found important to improve, when Death reaches them, we shouldn’t feel such sadness.  We should smile because they left this place a better one than they found it, they will live on forever, and now they need not feel pain.

We need to Celebrate what we learn from others.  We need to Celebrate life, and how fleeting it will always be.  We need to Celebrate each other.  We need to Celebrate why we are the way we are.  We need to Celebrate that there is still much work to do, so Death needs to wait its turn.  But when it is someone’s time, we need to realize that they deserve the gift that is Death, when they can finally rest from all the pain that comes from a life truly lived.  Through Life, we need to Celebrate the Dead.