astronauts vs. astronomers

old journals and the nostalgia they muster up...

2008-09-14T09:05:00.000-07:00

I found an old journal from college and came across some intresting pieces of prose... i wish i had never stopped writing in journals they dont crash like computers..... this prose had a really intresting sketch of my lower back piece... and upon reflection is the first ruff sketch of my lower back piece that i share with my brother nicholas.

DATE SOMETIME SOPHMORE YEAR

When the rodeo has displaced all of its cowboys
and its broncos are addicted to electricity,
the west is being held hostage.
When all the wild horses only run free under metal hoods
and use peteroleum for energy,
The trees have all been slayed to make space
for colonists longing to be celebrites
and tourists who want to forget about their lives for a while,
The ransom is the way things used to be....

Call me Mr. Pitiful, Baby thats my name....

2008-09-10T17:54:00.000-07:00

Its been a while since i have blogged, but thats not what i would like to waste my time writing about... For my eyes are heavy as my stiff fingers awkwardly try to dance with these keys and make clarity of my static heart... I feel lately my life has been like a vicious game of hangman.... I have exasperated all of my vowels without a clue of a decent consonant to choose...
Anxious for sleep, my lips protrude like a child who hasnt gotten his way. Otis Redding soulfully seranades my weary soul and drowns out the runaway train of my thoughts...... Can i get a witness..... Sometimes i feel bad for feeling bad... I feel like skeletons envy my bones, failing to realize that i am just as bare, frail, and naked.... I often feel like a positve skeptic with red roses wishing that God had made them blue....Many people have said that when i write i sound very vulnerable and sad... I don't know what it is about scratching down syllables that makes me feel blue, or why i can relate to the inner turmoil of Morrissey's lyrics, or why one of my favorite quotes of all time is "everything was beautiful and nothing hurt" by Kurt Vonnegut.... These things are typically reserved for recluses.. Of which i am certainly not.... I am no Holden Caulfield, Kurt Cobain, or Andy Warhol... But what i do know oh witness of my rambling is that i love that i would rather hear sad songs on the radio ....... You can call me Mr. Pitiful... or you can call me honest... As my beautiful brother Nicholas has been quoted to say " vunerablity is a shade that looks good on everybody........

Speaking words of wisdon... Let it Be.....

2008-06-12T12:24:00.000-07:00

Theirs a definite point in everyone’s day when one must decide to embrace the way that they feel...You know those feelings that you try to shake off as if they were a stalker desperately clamoring for your attention....No matter how many times you ignore it the feeling just keeps creeping around like a feline on a hunting excursion for mice.... For some this feeling that warrants their sweet embrace is consuming a Double Whopper over picking at a salad…. Perhaps it is whether to waste away leaving an indentation on your couch or going for a motivating jog.... Regardless of the analogy you get the point which brings me to what it is that I am clinging to… the idea that I am clinching is my lethargy and the notion that Liz is sprinting through my mind like a runny nose in December. I cannot force myself to grade another (excuse my honesty here "poorly written essay") on technological advancements and their impact on the 20th century… just as I cannot force Liz off of my dome…. Alas, i will allow my mind to wander like a nomad.... For as the Beatles once so poignantly said “Let it Be”……….

No more pencils no more books.....

2008-06-11T06:04:00.000-07:00

I cast a look of discernment like a shadow
On scholars eager for summer to break them into a million pieces
Emancipating their encumbered lives from routines and bells
Their eyes are eager to stare down questions and make them snitch
As shaky hands try to revive deceased trees with lead answers
Fingernails fall prey to sharp teeth drunk on nervousness
Squeaky desks alarm the timid walls of the classroom
That bold and brave boys
And gallant and gutsy girls
Can do more than we give them credit for.

I didn't even have to use my AK... Today was a good day..

2008-05-30T07:52:00.000-07:00

Graciously we crammed our long skeletons on my narrow bed.. Inching closer to each other like magnets to metal.. Our bodies bordered each other like a new but familiar territory. Our imperialistic itch rallied to intoxicate our instincts to explore and conquer those boundaries. Our fingers served as flags...And even though our digits moved without a compass our sense of direction never wavered. Void of Generals with their old and outdated strategies. We waged our battles without the inhibitions of an older generation. But fought with the carelessness and vigor that is associated with our youth.

cooler than freddie jackson sipping a milkshake in a snowstorm

2008-05-22T16:44:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in over a month for reasons to mudane to enven attempt to pawn off as poetic. Right now i am laying in my room staring at a pleothera of old vinyl records, sprawled out on the carpet of my bedroom, they remind me of a time i have never known personally. Words and beats beckon a first hand account of an unfamilar but adorable time.... My body aches as my scared skin coexists with thousands of goosebumps that remind me that i am glad that winter is a fond but distant memory. Today i was home sick from the hallowed halls of my school, stricken with what i beleive to be a twenty four hour bug of some sort... i hate that i hate calling out sick from work... My grandfather worked fourty years as a police officer and in that time did not take one sick day off... My father worked overtime every week at times even after grueling rounds of kemotherapy... So here i sit wrapped in blankets wondering if men are getting increasingly weaker than the strapping generations that came before us.. With their tales of walking to school in the snow without shoes uphill both ways.....being tough in our generation is owning a cell phone without internet, or using a dial up modem instead of having a cable modem....Ohh how things change......

The modern prehistorics

2008-04-15T13:05:00.001-07:00

What you is isn't what you are
Your faith isn't what you believe...
like a heretic....
Your size isn't how you look
like a model.....
Your words defy your lips
like Benedict Arnold......
Your originality is an imitation
like a photocopy..
For eager skeletons,
who are anxious to clap
their bones together
for a modern savior
in this prehistoric age..

We are the modern prehistorics

I feel like im in kindergarten

2008-04-13T18:09:00.000-07:00

My eyes feel like i just challenged the sun to a staring contest... Therefore this will be brief

My family came into the illadelph this weekend...
We did the following:
Ate cheesesteaks
Loved on each other
Went to the star war exhibit
Ate cheesesteaks
Loved on each other
Went swimming
Sanded and stained my backdoor
Saw Ben Franklins grave
Toured Besty Ross's house
Loved on each other

I really miss my mom right now and she only left an hour ago...

On the chalkboard of my heart.....

2008-04-10T05:18:00.000-07:00

Scribbled over and over again on the chalkboard of my heart is the word simplicity..
As the dusty eraser lays on my rib cage the deep smears of chalk sink deep into the foam and reminds me that these syllables repeat over again like a re-run of Seinfeld...
First as a whisper, that stifles slowly as it only scratches the surface
Then in a still voice that traces over the faint whispers of yesterday..
The inflection infects my bones and gives way to words that echo in and out of my hollowed bones..
The syllables send shivers that travel up to where my vulnerable heart clings to security like a tree without roots during a gail...

If life was a math equation it would look a little something like this...

simplicity + patience * faith / trials + tribluations - perseverance = contentment

"let us live simply so that others may simply live"...

Vinylsaurous Rex never was extinct.....

2008-04-06T11:26:00.000-07:00

I'm going to recap Saturday like a marksman without an aim....

I went out Friday with Babak, Cobby and "The Miller" to a silly lounge/bar playing ridiculous music for ridiculous individuals.. however the company was dope and the dance floor once again was annihilated, destroyed, decayed, and thus reduced to rubble.... I may not always have my whole mind wrapped around truth... life has a funny way of teaching me things that I thought I had already known, making new lessons out of old scenarios.. With this being said, i don't ever question myself, my brother, or my friends ability to walk into an establishment that has sound vibrating from a speaker and having the uncanny ability to conquer the dance floor like Columbus or Magellan...
So i woke up and went record shopping and got some sick records including but not limited to:

David Bowie (diamond dogs)
The doors(greatest hits),
Rolling Stones (sticky fingers),
Al Greens (greatest hits),
New Edition (self titled),
Dance remix single of Easy Lover by Philip Bailey and Phil Collins,
Doobie Brothers (greatest hits),
Temptation's (greatest hits)
And the piece de resistance a compilation with some of the dopest funk soul songs and Black Betty by Ram Jam....

Going record shopping always mellows me out, i love the smell of moldy cardboard and the thrill of searching through piles of deceased vinyl.. its kind of like walking around and old cemetery and admiring the names and the epitaphs and wondering what will be on your own, or looking at old black and white photographs of people smiling and wondering what pushed that sweet smile on their cheeks... Anyways my record collection is getting stronger like Kayne West.. which means one thing...
dun.. dun.... dunnnnnnn

Vinylsaurous Rex is coming back from extinction.....

Ohh the hiphopera of it all.. I'm Addicted to heart doodles like colleges kids on ramen noodles

2008-04-02T10:12:00.000-07:00

Mic check one two.....
I'm Addicted to heart doodles like colleges kids on ramen noodles
Its so crucial, I feel like a baboon that's been bamboozled,
I need a dose of medicine, so i can feel the real like Braille lettering,
cause i cant see n its all irrelevant,senses still pop like I'm suckin on peppermint
As i read through these words,
I'm chocked by adverbs,
and stuck on similes that are absurd
but attack in flocks n herds.
Like the shites and the Kurds
Feelings get crushed, when words get rushed,
then skin gets touched, leaving hearts in a bunch
An under attack, like an itch you can scratch.
Till you can tell the fiction from the fact
get the Harlem shakes like u fiend on crack
So funny that, fiend rhymes with friend
and I can't comprehend, were one ends and the other begins
While feelings creep in, like TLC over again like sin.

Somedays i just feel like spraying syllables like a tommy gun on these duns.......

Can i get a witness?

2008-03-24T19:56:00.000-07:00

Like a pencil with a bum eraser, i scribble out my heart in lead scratches and try to rub out each stroke of my feeble right hand.. the smudges smear against this emaciated piece of forgotten wood like the snot on the collar of my flannel sleeve that fights to stop the leak of my runny nose.... The flannel fails, the eraser eventually ends its endeavour.... As Paul Simon graces my ears with 50 ways to leave a lover... i wish i could find just one good reason that would hold up in my court of failed loves...
Today as i was marking papers on the roaring twenties three of my female students posted up in my classroom to complete some work... As each strike of my red pen drew me closer to sanity, their proud voices to loud to be ignored, talked wildy about boys, and relationships.... All the while with each one of their giggly syllables or grunted grudges i digested their problems and praises of the opposite sex and in silent gestures that couldn't be recognized through my teachers front I sat in total acceptance of their plight....

Can i get a witness?

Stay golden Ponyboy........

2008-03-14T11:25:00.000-07:00

Lethargic eyes stumble upon the virgin day
Foreign skin desperate for home raises quite a fuss
For a comma, a pause, a break in the monotony of staring my life away
At metal coffins in motion, penniless and drunk on oil
Parading skeletons to and fro, divided in their unity
Robotic arms ally themselves with prosthetic tickers
While flesh and blood disown each other
Machines with different last names forget their common past
And intoxicate themselves with exaggerated stories of an old precedent
With their rusty memories of the industrial revolution...

Today i feel like a outdated machine...Old and usless like a 8track, or a floppy disk.. I am no longer compatable with modern technology...
Nothing gold lasts forever.......

I wish everyone had a replica....

2008-03-11T17:18:00.000-07:00

As i lay in my bed that is no larger than the bed of my youth... untucked covers drape over me like leaves in the fall, my pillows understand each other without uttering a single word... the world rages on outside my window...I hear the faint sounds of wheezing as Nicholas' lungs wage a war against the phelm that has attacked his immune system.. 20 feet from were my head rests, my brothers skull sweetly sinks into his pillow as he is rocked to sleep by the sounds of the city... I wish everyone had a twin.. or if not an exact replica at least someone who they loved more than themselves.. someone they weren't jealous to see suceed but longed for their happiness more than their own... to look at someone whose is his mother and father....Who has my fathers smile, stoic nature, and strong spirit... While at the same time possessing my mothers, gentle soul, careless excitement, and passion for life.. It makes all those years I spent desperately begging for people to know that we were different seem wildly outrageous.

The following are lyrics from a song Nicholas and I recorded on saturday... We've made a pledge attempting to be creative more than once a year and not let life swallow up our passion to create things that only we appreciate but find hard to live without...

Black Bible, White Gospel...
Will i ever find, a kitten in this litter
Shes got her claws out
And shes ready to scratch,
like redemption, its tempting..
Saints and sinners, are all losers
Thieves and givers
no winners
They got their hands out
in the offering
they can't shell it out
what a blessing.

"Where so fragile were so calm, were so innocent of what went wrong" John Ralston......

Wishing like Skee Lo.... Hello...

2008-03-06T17:16:00.000-08:00

Sometimes i wish that i was different...
I wish my voice was scratchy and distorted like a microphone addicted to reverb
I wish my hair wasn't so thick and difficult but fine and easy like the weekends....
I wish my heart was shrewder, blacker, and colder like the first frost of fall
I wish my brain was witter less analytic and uncontrolably unlikely to communicate with my heart
I wish my hands were frail and boney like a skeletons unable to feel others pain
I wish my bones were brittle, tired, and better at betraying the longing to be touched..
I wish...
I wish i wasn't praised for being different all of the time...
Deep down were all the same...
Waving more than drowning.....

Fiend of dreams......

2008-03-03T17:04:00.000-08:00

Today i stood with 30 high school students who wanted to try out for our varsity baseball team in a vacant lot outside our school... the barbed wire glistened as the orang sky shot schemes of purple.. it was like a vibrant drive by of color. The sun bounced off the L, and off my face, reminding me that spring is making its way back to the north. They lined up on the concrete, pretending it was grass while the elevated train screamed by in 15 mintue intervals.. they daydreamed as if it were diehard fans screaming their names... Their were no parents present at the first day of tryouts but in their place sat prostitues and fiends watching in amazement as the young bones of our vibrant youth ran around with leather mits after balls of yarn in the ghetto...In Philadelphia theirs more concrete than grass, taller buildings but smaller spaces for children to be kids... So its not surprising that as i write this i think of our kids and smile at the little joys and privledges that so many other teenagers take for granted and it forces a smile upon my tired cheeks that our kids will play baseball and pretend the blacktop is dirt, that the barbed wire fence is the green monster, and that the crack fiends and prostitues are adoring fans waiting for autographs...all for the love of the game.....

Mama told me their be days like this....

2008-02-26T17:13:00.000-08:00

Like catching the end of a parade
Or the last verse of contagious piece of pop music
Your lungs force out a sigh like a bully
Lips protrude, bones stretch like a rubber band
Feeble hands shake like a tambourine
In search of a beat
Your heart attacks pray for inspiration
Like dead trees longing to be tattooed
by the poignant pens of an articulate author...

Mama told me their be days like this.....

Like Bowie.....

2008-02-23T06:01:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was evidence that God loves teachers and listens to the prayers of little ankle bitters who know how important a day of building snowmen, making snow angels, and snowball fights are to the human spirit....
While i did not throw a snowball or attempt to bring Frosty to life like Frankenstein....
The day off was a wonderful surprise, like a great thrift store find...
Right now its 9:13 in the morning.. I'm listening to the Shins and the faint converstation that resignates in my kitchen as feelings run through my body like Flow Joe....
Sometimes i feel like their are two or three versions of myself... Each version a new and authentic representation of the man i want to be... Its like a catchy song you cannot get out of your head.. until you try to tell someone just how catchy it is and then..... nothing....
you can't remember the hook, or even hum the beat.....
Bowie said it best.....
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Dont want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
(turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I cant trace time

Snowflakes on my mind like a crack fiend

2008-02-21T17:06:00.000-08:00

Praying for snow like elementary school kids
Crossed fingers and shoelaces dangle
Like the catholic hope from my neck
Its nice to know that teachers
Plot and pray for snow like thieves
Just like elementary school kids....

I ran through winter with my summer lungs as my shadow stalked me, the night was quiet like a snowglobe before its shaken,
as if the weather man was accurate with the forecast, I ran towards independence hall, passed the liberty bell... the cracked pavement, and those lopsided cobblestones that remind tourists that history can be recreated for the right price.
But i digress and put it in the past......
Today i gave my United States History class a quiz covering Foreign Policy and the Spanish American War.... The war that robbed Washington of wisdom and shoved our loner longings, to the imperial nightmare that Bush covers under tax breaks and 911...Its as Bill Cosby so beautifully stated in between discipling Theo, hugging Rudy and repping for JELLO pudding pops...
"The past is a ghost, the present is a dream, the only time we have is now"
Right on Mr. Cosby... Right on

Sweating to the oldies with George Washington

2008-02-05T18:19:00.000-08:00

Its been a long time since i have written a blog... Its not for lack of things to say.. Like a longing that feels to certain to break i kept my syllables (for once) inside the corners of my mouth.. I felt a sudden restraint, an invisible muzzle, as if my tounge was blocking my chances to be heard like Shaquille Oneal in the paint... If i am honest with myself silence used to scare me like a ghost (it still does if i am truly honest) it crept me out, like the creeks in an old house when you cannot fall asleep...quiet frightens me because honesty looms around the stillness like the blade of an axe ready to chop me down to my roots.... As i sit in my room, all that keeps me from enjoying the silence are the cars that are trudging by on interstate 95 and the rythmic sounds of the keyboard as my fingers fumble to deliver this....

I went on a run tonight...
the sky was clear for a change..
and i could see airplanes in the distance
As i ran i imagined playing connect the dots with the stars
I wondered what shapes i could make from those shining stars...
I ran to freedom
and did push-ups were George Washington used to live..
the plaque informed me like a unexecpted punch to the nose
that Washington had many slaves..
The only slave they graced with a name was his cook...
I guess he really liked to eat...
I dont think slavery ever really ended.......

Been along time... i shouldn't of left you..

2008-02-04T18:34:00.000-08:00

Cats and mice flirt with survival
over saucers of whole milk and sharp cheddar
While men and women stalk each other for love
with shotgun stares and machine gun movments
Airplanes diguised as satetilites break through
Black blankets of virgin sky
I feel dim
Drowning in a sea of black
Tired of being lit
The wind recesitates lathorgic stars
as if they were drowing
Under water staring up
at the manic world
from the depths of a peaceful abyss.

Bite all your fingernails off...

2008-01-15T18:30:00.000-08:00

"When you learn how to die, you learn how to live" this quote is from Tuesdays with Morrie, I've been reading this book for about 6 months now but only recently have I gathered up the steam to push through it turning pages with my index finger like a security guard breaking up a fight.. This book resembles my life like a dog resembles its owner.... The book is about an old man at the end of his life and a young man without much of one...Which is only fitting because i feel like the youngest old man in the history of twenty somethings, but i digress.... Morrie is the older man he is sage-like and stoic, while mitch is stagnant and searching... Many times whenever i read a book or catch a flick i can only relate to one of the main characters and the rest i am very ambivalent towards, i could careless wetether they floursih or flounder... However with this book i relate to both Morrie and Mitch equally which is really odd because both characters are at complete opposite spectrums of their lives... Mitch is attention starved, lonley, afraid, passionless, indifferent, a workaholic while Morrie is faithful, patient, courageous, compassionate... They are like oil and water and yet.....I'am both men smashed together...However though i relate to both i long to connect more with Morrie....

I talked to Rod today after work, and was very encouraged by his words...We talked, we prayed, we laughed, but most of all we were honest... i was honest about my insecurites as Rod was honest with his advice....Talking to Rod made me feel like we were the characters in the book.. Rod of course was Morrie helping me to learn to die so that i can learn to live and I was Mitch afraid but eager to make this wisdom real....

I think I'm finally ready to learn to die so that i can learn to live.....

typing without a backspace...

2008-01-10T23:24:00.000-08:00

where do i begin... tonight O and I bartended at Mad river and made way more money than necessary for pouring people drinks and putting up with drunken conversation... so i came home and decided that i would check out Amelians blog becasue it feels like forever since she has posted a new tidbit for me to read...... only to find that indeed my email was awkward and senseless, and that grace is something that i can hope for and cling to but never really feel... right now i feel like a one legged man in an ass kicking contest...Destined to fail.....Falling asleep right now is hard because i kind of hate myself............great....... just 4 more hours till i will be educating young minds..... i think this weekend i am going to crawl into a hole... God bless the internet and self loathing and typing without a backspace.......

I admit...

2008-01-09T18:34:00.001-08:00

Today felt like a jigsaw puzzle in which the pieces fought to fit in their respective position.... Last night i sent Amelian pictures from our holiday together..I looked at each snapshot like a car crash, with grinding teeth and steady eyes i stared at each smile, in aww of this time that feels like a unfamilar history, that still stinging....With the pictures i composed a short email..Sluggish syllables filled the computer screen as my fingers awkwardly danced with the keyboard...Everything i wrote felt so distant, so blahh...As i cross examined the email like a lawyer over and over I questioned its motives and hoped that when Amelians eyes stumbled upon them that she would understand that these awkward words are not mine but someone elses.. Someone in need of grace.. Like a band aid ripped off prematurely i need more time to heal........They say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem....

i admit..........

Like the Bush Administration i need a plan....

2008-01-06T19:21:00.000-08:00

First things first.....I do realize that in my last blog i look like the uni bomber and am aware that i look pretty pathetic... I posted the picture before i left for church and in the last 4 hours I am making changes like Tupac.....

My head is still shaved(which i dig for many reasons but realize if i am honest that my skull is unfortunately a tad bit small to really pull the essential "buzz cut") but i digress....
At church i realized a very important fact that dates back to my first entry as a blogger and that is "Life moves by preatty fast, if your not careful it just might pass you by" This infamous quote from Matthew Broderick sustained me a month ago however looking at this from a faith angle gives me more to work with than just a clever way to reference an 80's cult classic....Their is so much beauty in this world that i have neglected and scoffed at with satrical sighs... So many sunrises i slept through, so many sunsets i overlooked, so many stars i mistaked for airplanes and satelites. Their are many reasons that i have missed out on so much and it is because i lack (don don don...) The two dd's (Im not talking about Rich boy's outrageous anthem for pimping ones ride) The d's i am talking about are Dillegence and Discipline...... All of the great people who have walked this earth had dillegence and discipline.... Ghandi, MLK, Mother Theresea, Diddy, I mean the list goes on and on...So what is the resolution what is the meaning in this reckless preamble... I just realized that I like the Bush administration lack a cohesive plan...

I recently stumbled upon this verse like a penny in Joshua and it spoke to me... Maybe I'll get it tattooed on my person....

Joshua 1:9 "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go."

More than just resolutions

2008-01-06T13:40:00.001-08:00

I need a lot more than a Pompadour and rat tail in 08

Isaiah 41:10

A somber day for a badly drawn boy

2008-01-05T13:38:00.000-08:00

As the chilly breeze blows off of the Delware River.. i pass my reflection as it bounces back at me off of the pieces of broken glass that are sprawled out like stars on the blacktop.... i see myself and i sigh..
I've neglected my true colors for so long that i no longer feel like a vibrant painting but a gray sketch of pencil scratches that are wick willed and easily rubbed out... I went to work today to make up for the two days i had been an absolute zhombie and i accomplished a great deal..... When i got back from work i was starving... the only nourishment i had had were a handful of munchkins from Dunkin Doughnuts, so i walked up to South Street for a falaffel from Maoz (it was delightful and filling) Still i was mopey and sullen and thought some starbucks might perk me up (usually i wouldn't buy Starbucks but early in the day i ganked a free coupon that Chrissy had sent Steveo) I'll let him know when he gets back from San Diego, I'm sure he wont mind....I walked around a lot and went to all of my favorite thrift stores...

I picked up the following:
An old copy of OF MICE AND MEN
An old copy of NINE STORIES
A really comfortable old purple t-shirt
An excellent Rolling Stones record with thier early hits which is super jazzy and fun
A really rare live recording of The Supremes at the Copacabana

These purchases totaled $12.71 cents.....but feel priceless given my mood... (I feel like Charlie Brown felt when Peppermint Patty kept teasing him with the football, right as he tried to kick it she would pull it out from under him)

I'm going to see the Savages at Dave's movie theater which means the following:
Free admission
Free popcorn and goobers
Free conversation with Mancrush
Possibly some clarity....

Today i feel like the following:
(As stated earlier Charlie Brown)
Simplistic
Sad
Blessed
wrong
Confused
Weak
Contemplative
mopey
Optimistic

We part like the red sea... without Moses

2008-01-04T16:57:00.000-08:00

Without the confines of my fraility i paraded my skin and bones on the ashes of thursday, hopefull that I wouldn't hurt so bad as the next day quietly crept over the horizon......Miles from resolution after the revolution, as time zones disconnect the hands on our wrists, the earth moves while I sleep and she roams...
We part like the red sea...

I don't know if word spread of our breakup or if my face was a mobile piece of sad graphitti art but the word on the street was now tagged for all to see...My students asked inquistively about my holiday.... i had to tell them an abbreviated truth, I said, "I have to do me"...(of course this was a severe understatement but i had to be professional) i was understood by them... It was as if what i had said was a universal ideal or a famous quote that everyone knew and enjoyed reciting...However like little lie detectors they knew that it was over between Amelian and they knew that i served as judge and jury.. .It was a strange feeling to have my teenage girls scowl at me as their pupils attempted to throw daggers, while the boys glared at me with a strong but silent admiration.. In my male students eyes i saw a burning glorification as if i were a martyr or a saint, it was as if it took every inch of their power not to give me a high five or hoist me upon thier shoulders as if i had just hit a buzzer beater at the championship game.. While in the eyes of the girls I was sinner and a thief...
(Of course the girls were right)

Listening to John Ralstons "Only evidence" makes me sad.....

2008-01-03T15:14:00.000-08:00

She doesn't deserve this....This moring i woke up to go to work i was cold and my bones were numb like winter... next to me lay a beautiful woman, awkwardly sprawled out on my tiny mattress with her bags packed for home... Driving her to the airport we sat like popsicles in my car quiet as mice... Driving on the highway closer and closer we inched our way to the airport and the pain that came with this goodbye... We kissed and said goodbye as the wind tore into my bare legs it was an honest reminder that this story did not have to be written this way... It is here that i will admit without a shadow of a doubt that all of this, Amelian leaving prematurely, the tears, the pain, the hurt.. is all on me...It is my fault, how could i hurt a girl that "thinks that sun shines out of my ass"( quote from the movie JUNO), how could i push away such a strong, confident, beautiful, understanding, faith-filled, inspiring, unique, soul.... How could i put an uncertain end to a woman who possess qualities that i long for and have been yet to find as i fished in the sea for women like Hemingway's old man... I had no choice.... Amelian deserves the passionate unbridled love and affection that she can give, and i am to weak to give that love back to her... I feel like I am eleven years old, brittle and hopeless, young and naive, but above all directionless.... I remember being eleven years old and having my heart broken for the first time... the girls name was Nicole, we had dated for 4 and half days... i remember coming home from school weeping to my father, "I will never find another girl like her"... I remember my father in all of his infinite wisdom looking me dead in the face with those strong piercing eyes and saying, "justin you will find a million girls, you will love but this girl is not worth your tears, one day you will love and a girl who will be worth your tears" My father was right, Amelian is worth every tear in my reservoir, i cried an ocean of salt, until i had no more tears left... I went back to sleep, with no beautiful woman in my bed to catch my tears and hold my hand, I took a shower but the hot water felt like ice on my skin, void of feeling i didn't have the energy to brush my teeth, gargling with mouthwash the alcohol didn't sting, it didnt freshen my mouth pasty and awkward was fine for the dreary day i knew i would endure....I put on my new suit, the same suit i wore out to dinner and narcissitically walked past the mirror in the Loews hotel probing myself at how handsome i shallowly thought i looked.. now that same suit did not marvel me as it had just days prior at the hotel....I felt silly for feeling so proud and bold in it... now in that same suit i felt mundane, boring, and out of touch........ Like that suit, i appear to be so together.. tailored just right, bold and classic... while my insides clash with my faith like a wardrobe to outlandish to resemble fashion..... I know that i will again be myself, but i do not know the day or time that i will find myself filled with the faith that runs through my outstrethed hands like grains of sand...For now i settle for depressing music, and a vicious stare at the grey wall in this living room....and pray that she knows that i love her.... she doesn't deserve this...

The day i ruined Christmas....

2007-12-25T11:58:00.000-08:00

When i was in the fifth grade i rode on a big yellow school bus to Forest Avenue elementary school. That year i was the oldest on my bus and therefore sat in the back... As the younger children sat quietly in the front and waited pateintly for time to grant them the privelge of being appointed to sit in the back row of brown leather seats, their i sat and stared out of the window as the houses slowly passed by... I cannot remember the exact day or the child's name but i know that it was in the month of December when i ruined Christmas for a first grader... I told him that Santa was a fake, a fraud, a myth, made up by parents to give kids something to believe in when in actuality the presents we were receiving under the evergreen trees in our respective living rooms was from our moms and dads. When i came home from school and told my mother what i had done, she was furious... She scolded me with a very disappointing glare and said, "Justin you just ruined Christmas for that boy and his family." It is not until now being some 16 years removed from the incident on that yellow bus that i realize the magnitude of what i had done....Its ironic that sometimes the things that mean the most in this world are the things you cannot explain, touch, or hold onto...It is with this preface that i write a testimony of December the 25th on the 25th year of my life...
My mind struggles to grasp the memories of Christmas past and the traditions that sustained me as a child... I remember leaving cookies (always Oreo) and a glass of milk for Santa Claus with carrots for his reindeer...Waking up with crusty eyes too cookie and carrot crumbs on that white dish with the gold trim. I remember watching the Christmas story on television and hanging on each unforgettable line as if I hadn't seen it a thousand times prior.. I can still vaguely feel the nerves in my body keeping me from sleep, and the bright Christmas lights on my neighbors lawns illuminating the block with a spirit so invigorating even scrooge would have to stop and take a second look... Modernity has changed me... I'm taller now, with more facial hair and less of desire to deck the halls.. I would die to walk in a winter wonderland but the snowflakes have turned to rain drops, no longer do i have holly jolly Christmases...Now caffeine gives me a manufactured alertness, and the neighbors are older and far to practical to leave their Christmas lights on all hours of the night...No longer do i tear open gifts as if it were the first thing i had ever received, no longer do i stand under mistletoe with protruding lips or write a list for old Saint Nick....

Suburbanites....... Back but not home....

2007-12-22T13:27:00.000-08:00

Trapped like Odysseus on the island of Calypso
I gaze out at the monotonous houses that command authority from streets of my youth
As each building struggles for ambiguity through assimilation
My eyes are glued on naked trees stripped from their fall foliage
My senses are awakened by the cremation of forgotten lumber
And the faint sound of cars as they slowly creep up to stop signs
My mind recollects the pride i once found in calling this place home
However, amongst the beauty of this never ending suburbia
I'm am fixated on a distant horizon
On a bruised landscape that sings a sirens song,
Over skyscrapers and through alley ways
It's beat lours me back like a fiend.....

I miss the illadelph... but not as much as I miss Amelian....Two more days until blessed reunion.....

Teaching = malleable... Love = compromise

2007-12-18T16:50:00.000-08:00

I am truly blessed... while my friends sit idol and alone in cubicles and interact with computer screens compartmentalizing their day between you tube, emails, and small talk at the water cooler with Todd and Jane.. I get to communicate with Bilal and Diyaldin about the importance of having more than just a jump shot, break up squabbles between Rolangyi and Diana, and inspire Kyrell and Lionel through ancient Greek literature.... The reason inner city educators don't make any money isn't because what we do is easy, half hearted, or unimportant... Its because we get to do all of the things other people tell themselves they could never do, in places they only read about in the headlines, with children who don't look, sound, or act like them... We get way more than we give.... While they give way more than they get.....

The day i was a Paul Bearer.....

2007-12-17T16:03:00.000-08:00

December 17th 2007 is a moment that i will always remember as the day I was a Paul bearer. I've carried crosses, books, people, pain, joy, and a multitude of other inanimate feelings.... but never had i carried a casket.... Heavy and sluggish six men much older than myself carried him through the cemetery.. Counting the tombstones like the stars at night.. i glanced over at the names and dates of the skeletons that rested in their plots... Each lethargic step over the frozen ground made it clear that death is not a racist... It does not prefer blonde's over brunettes, men to women, skinny or overweight... Strange, but it comforted me to know that Death doesn't discriminate...The wind whipped at our backs as if we had done something terribly wrong.. Blood red carnations hung in our hands, those stars and stripes that he had once fought for in his stint as a patriot, those same stars that once illuminated his life and made his rural heart beat.... Its funny that paying our respects didn't cost us a thing.. as the flag draped over his coffin like a child's blanket....We stood in our Sunday's best on Monday and went back to the church to talk about eternity....

No No Noah........

2007-12-15T08:37:00.000-08:00

I give an enthusiastic thumbs down for Margot at the wedding. It was a post modern mess, with no plot, no story line, and no resolutions. The characters were manic and cold but oddly relatable. The movie had no natural climax so the writer shuffled in a handful of random disturbing scenes that evoked unnatural reactions of shame and pity. Better luck next time Noah….The movie lackluster and stale left less of an impression than building that I watched the movie in….

Driving into Bryn Mar, in four cylinders of Japanese pride. The houses were excessive and showy but empty. Standing dormant like sleepy giants they sat on hills like Kings reigning over thrones of peasants. The sign to the movie theater which was meant to be classics felt gaudy, bright, and unwarranted. The yellow and red lights smashed into each other for another one night stand...Green with envy the bright green lights jealousy watched with tired watchful eyes. The movie theatre was tired but vibrant as it held together the vital strands of the town’s history. The worn weathered glass wrapped around the brick like a veil. Theatre 1 was long and narrow like an escalator it kept revolving through the black room. The popcorn was soft and soggy from the butter, I didn’t use salt because I didn’t want anything to drink. The bathroom tiles were cracked and brown from years of nonchalant cleaning from high school employees unimpressed with minimum wage.

No woman is an Island...

2007-12-11T14:35:00.000-08:00

With a quiet pacifism, my mouth moves like a nomad in search of a place that I could one day call home.... I bottle up my brash thoughts, in a glass jar with a bronze lid like the one that i used to catch lightning bugs in the summers of my youth... On and on my lips meet each other, smashing together in a silent symphony, for the tone deaf.... Like a child addicted to questions, I inquistively ask why? Why do people treat each other like plastic?

In school today during a writing assignment in one my classes, one of my students wrote of being raped by an uncle......
I felt like Goliath after David's lucky aim with his slingshot. The news hit me like the assasination of JFK.... Like JFK the criminal got away... Just as the Kennedy's count their curses, so will she count her issues without a reason for why.........

No woman is an island....

St. John the vulnerable

2007-12-11T05:17:00.000-08:00

As my brother Nicholas says, “if vulnerability was color then it would look rather stunning on everyone”. Nicholas is my older brother, (25 whole minutes) for which my mother said felt like an eternity. Its interesting, that the first thing that people ask my brother and I is if we ever played pranks on people when we were younger. We have heard this line a thousand times from hundreds of different lips. Sometimes I feel like original thoughts died with original sin, but I digress. Without fail we look at each other and smile like children, and respond in perfect unison, “our mother told us that we could only use our twin powers for good, never for evil. After hearing this the inevitable happens, people go into a reckless preamble about how they wished they had a twin. They say outrageous and outlandish things that would never really of happen if they had someone that looked like them. They fantasize about all of the mischief they would have caused, all of the girls they would have shared. (its funny how doing the wrong thing makes people feel so vibrant) doing the right thing never inspired such smiles. At church on Sunday night we learned more about St. John the Baptist. I think another fitting name would have been St. John the vulnerable. To others he was stoic and strong, never weak. But with Jesus he was like a child.. Gentle in spirit he had the type of joy around Jesus that people have when they think no one else is looking. Those moments were social grace isn't a concern, were cool points have yet to be tallied. Like my incredible replica Nicholas and St. John I want to be open to those vulnerable child like moments that escape my more jaded quarter life self......

We drank, We danced, We conquered...

2007-12-08T11:21:00.000-08:00

Last nights festivities was a barrage of alcohol, teacher jargon, eductional eulogy's, and geniune compliments between collegues that barely have the time to say more than good morning... The sun woke up before me yet again.. As the televisons conversation was mudane but just loud enough to shake me from slumber. Upon opening fermented eyes, i stepped out into winter and payed my last respects to the fallen leaves of autumn. The orange and yellow leaves fervishly held onto their colors like patriots hold onto flags. Empty red paint buckets and brushes lied motionless on the ground from the nights brouhaha.. Nothing was lost last night except fo my keys, some brain cells, and a piece of my liver......Last night was a beautiful mess...Maybe its the IHOP that sits like a brick in my stomach or the lathorgy of my bones from the booze...But as the vinyl spins warmth back into the cold corners of my home..Petsounds has never sounded so lovely......

Old souls around the world Unite and take over......

2007-12-07T07:12:00.000-08:00

We part like the red sea, without the confines of our frailty…
This simile feels stale in my stomach like a piece of moldy bread
My hunger subsides for now, but will rise again……

I think of the first line… We part like the red sea….It feels like a different person wrote that line. Today a different skeleton shakes…. Gray hairs have begun to salt my scalp…my muscles take longer to heal from the marathon days that they endure. My hand shake is firmer, beard is thicker, my eyes are more careful then they once had been. The reality of my experiences has strengthened me with the power to discern my ambitions so I no longer get lost in my dreams… Like Narcissus I loved my old reflection….. Less Narcissistic and more realistic I appreciate my new reproduction more than I ever have, I look forward to getting older and the clarity that comes with experience….. Like an old man shouting from his wheelchair, pot belly and all.. I declare youth to be wonderfully exciting and fresh, invigorating and wistful. And yet I highly anticipate the longing for prune juice, dentures, cardigans, and comfortable Velcro shoes.

Disgruntled syllables

2007-12-06T06:42:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to the sound of a beautiful yet disgruntled voice on my answering machine, and this response was inspired...... If she could only realize..

Stretching its color into the sky with a groggy yawn.
The sky reminded me of your skin
The morning, quiet as a funeral
The silence stung my chest like second hand smoke
Until you broke my grief with a sound to beautiful to be deemed noise
You raced through my mind like public transportation
Grinding on like a train through the traffic of my thoughts
Persistently creeping like a cab into the corners of my mind
You never rest, never stop, your never cease
To meet me where I am
With the punctuality of Mussolini.

Maybe

2007-12-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

Maybe I feel like a typewriter, an old and outdated relic that reminds people of the times we remember fondly but seldom recollect long enough to hold.
Maybe I feel like a computer, new and clever constantly evolving, I crash with a convience that is easy to forgive but impossible to forget
Maybe I feel like Napoleon, courageous and confident, I scratch my imperialistic itch with a spirit of revolution as the guilltoine laughs
Maybe i feel like Ghandi, brittle but bold, with a quiet peace I smash Britain into a million pieces while the Queen sips tea
Maybe i feel like ghost, lost and fumbling for a feeling that I cannot hold in my translucent hands.
Maybe i feel like a begger, drunk and stumbling for anything but peoples pity, without any hands to recieve the silver change that cannot change me
Maybe i feel like a saint, pious and proud, worshipped for a faith that was never mine by people who love to believe in strangers
Maybe i feel like a sinner, selfish and faithless i try to fly to salvation with metal wings when no one has ever heard of forgiveness.
Maybe we all feel like a church with broken pews and empty aisles
Maybe we all feel like Lions praying for challenging prey
Maybe
we
all
feel.............

Astronauts(JRP) vs. Astronomers(AKH)

2007-12-02T19:05:00.000-08:00

Like kids in love when the sun goes down i desperately wish that I could bully the moon to go away. While she stands wide eyed to wait for it to come and show its many shapes. I curse the stars, while she sings them to sleep. Laying in the wake of the day i stretch my tired bones toward the sky, breathing in the ashes of the day, I sound a yawn for sleep to rescue my weary soul. She stands in the fullness of the night and tries to catch airplanes with her index and middle fingers and talks to the satelites about the problems with technology. It is here that i have to break this poetic preamble and give an accurate description of what i am doing and feeling that cannot be lost with my attempts to be clever with my words.

I'm laying in my bed left with only empty sighs and blank stares at the mute cracks in my ceiling that offer an ear but never a sound to help me survive the longing i have to be understood by her. I love that we care enough to fight about nothing. Others would kill to fight about what we fight about. Its like my dad always said "women, cant live with them, cant shoot them" (for the record i dont really want to shoot anyone it just makes me smile to think about my dad's funny sayings)

"YOU MIGHT SLEEP BUT YOU'LL NEVER DREAM, ONWARD PROGRESS OR SO IT SEEMS"

2007-11-30T18:38:00.000-08:00

As i lay in bed, i think of my generation
Pondering what they are getting themselves into
Red faced, with breath that stings of alcohol
Watching each other like detectives
From across crowded dance floors
Girls concealing their age with concealer
Guys staring away at monotonous sports highlights
Giving thier two cents when no one keeps their pennies
Hoping for love at first sight
They waited all week to learn about each others bodies
They slaved 40 hours to tip "their" bartender
And listen to the pop songs
That they cannot stand
But sing when no one is listening
"AND YOU MIGHT SLEEP BUT YOU'LL NEVER DREAM"

My skin feels elastic as my body yurns for ovaltine
My brittle bones ache for calicum
In and out my eyes struggle to stay open like a broken shade
Use to giving in to these urges of holding my pillow like a lost love
I dream of a far away girl and a morning cup of coffee
"ONWARD PROGRESS OR SO IT SEEMS"

Like a Knife...

2007-11-28T18:38:00.000-08:00

The day felt like a rusty razorblade. Fimilar but dull... Running a marathon around the hallways, caffeine echoed through my veins... It wasn't until cell at Joe's Coffe bar that I really started to breathe the day in with some youthful vigor. The couple across from me were awkward to say the least. The women age 27- 32 looked hardened but fresh in some strange way. Her jittery movements made her seem uneasy as if she was being watched from a distance. The man was 30- 35.. He was very gangly as his body looked mangled in a delicate sort of way as if his mother had babied him through his entire childhood. Friendless and addicted to atari he never played football with his friends, for it was as if he had not one awkward growth spurt but two. I would have never guessed that these to souls were married, if it hadn't been for the rock that held her left hand in submission... And the band that lay limp on fourth finger of his less dominant hand....My eyes couldn't help but be fixated on them. They sat together as if they had no memory of why they even loved each other at all. Their lips seemed to move but thier bodies despised the sounds that crashed from their tongues. They talked about Christmas plans as if they were retelling the Holocaust. They looked extremely miserable but they were together in that undeniable emotion......Snaped out of my secret staring contest with them my mind stumbled upon Enoch and Quincy Miller... The inquirer said that the altercation was over some clothes, in the end 18 year old Qunicy stabbed his 23 year old brother Enoch in the head and neck.... Enoch is in a much better place, as Quincy hides out from the men in blue.....Thinking about the brothers makes me feel like an invalid....

Technology is for the birds

2007-11-26T16:45:00.000-08:00

I loathe technology.... so much so that even as i type this it is hard to come up with a decent reason why... the reasons for my disdain are to lenghty to list... I've never been very "advanced".. I've never been big on downloads...never had napster or limewire probably because i didn't know where to download them before they became certified illegal.... Never really been a good web surfer.... And now it seems as though all the information that i couldn't live without wont come off my hard drive... Technology is for the birds..... Is it to much to ask to recover some of my prose, a couple of short stories, some hip tracks, and kodak moments.... Maybe it is... and maybe it is?!

My My My My....

2007-11-23T16:53:00.000-08:00

I am 24 years and 364 days old today. Getting older does very varing things to people. Some people try to hold onto their youth like a snowball in June. Others gracefully adhere to the natural order of things (and getting plastic surgery or buy expensive material things) Me, I don't like to hold on to things that are inevitable... it comforts me to know that no matter how pious, proud, rich, poor, faithful, faithless, intelligent or shit for brains a person is that he/she will not be sparred from the following....
Number 1 sitting in traffic
Number 2 aging
Number 3 Death
It is on this foundation of fact that i must list my blessings (in no particular order of importance)
My health
My family
My Mother/angel
My blood brother/twin brother Nicholas
My Friends
My Girl (boots)
My Tattoos
My Lord and Savior
My Hope
My career
My students
My House
My Illadelphia
My finanical stablity
My mind
My passions
My My My I truely have a lot to be thankful for.........

Adjectives derive from Bling..

2007-11-21T08:55:00.000-08:00

(The picture above is a birthday present from one of my favorite students Radzeedha Watkins)
A
N
D
This is how I FEEL
Wonder, admiration, amazement, surprised, astonishment, bewilderment, flabbergasted, stunned, taken aback. These aren't just ordinary adjectives that are learned to describe an emotion. These adjectives that derive from Bling are designed to paint my black and white world with the vivid colors of my admiration for the little things in my life the make such massive difference...
Cash Money Millonaire 4 Life dun............

I heart winter.......

2007-11-19T17:30:00.000-08:00

I just got back from a run to Rittenhouse Square and the air was just cool enough to burn my lungs...
My bones feel electric as my heart tires from beating up my chest and quietly fades into a pleasant rythm.
I love the winter, the dead leaves sprawled out over the cobblestone like martyrs
The smell of fallen trees seeps over the powerlines and thickens the cold air
while couples bundle up their love in layers of winter garb.
Hiding silence under scarves, their happiness hangs like a halo over hoods,
As fingertips desperate for the touch of skin patiently wait in mittens for the rush of blood against theirs.
The winters are warmer than i remember as a boy, it snows less than it used too.
I pity the boys and girls that will never lose feeling in their fingertips from feeling snow for the first time
I ache for the running noses that will stop running like a faucet, the children who will never get hit with a snowball.
The future atheletes who will never play kill the man with the ball on a cloud of snow over frozen soil.
The next soldiers who will never build a snow fort and tunnel their way towards freedom away from the aim of enemy snowballs.
We all lose things, if we stop to recollect what it is that we had....

Are we at a tattoo contest or a vagina contest?

2007-11-18T07:07:00.000-08:00

Its hard to bottle up the events of last night in their entirety and due any justice to the mind F*CK that was last night but here goes....
THE TOP 8 REASONS WHY LAST NIGHT SUCKED
8. The music the DJ was spinning sounded like my 6th grade dance circa 1994
7. In attempts to look "cool and fit in" No one was dancing, again very remeniscent of my 6th grade dance
6. The bartender heard Tequila n tonic when i asked for tanqueray n tonic
5. By the name one would assume the new 24/7 convenience store is actually open 24/7... One would be wrong...
4. Realizing without a shadow of a doubt that we live in a sexist society that values a womens vagina more than amazing body art
3. The flyer read best tattoo contest, but alas it was best vagina contest.
2. Nicholas lost two free tickets to Vegas to a girl with a heart on her crotch the size of a freckle
1. That i cared enought last night to actually compartmentalize my disdain for the night into a list

People say that the longer you live the more you understand about this oblate spheriod that most refer to as earth.....
If last night is any indication of this statement then i think i had more understanding as a fetus then i do now....

Everybody meet Mr. Me too

2007-11-16T18:37:00.001-08:00

Today at school we rocked a role reversal... the students dressed like teachers and we did our best to dress as students with sloppy untucked white shirts and ties that looked more like fragile nooses that dangled away from our necks... Nick's junior high school dance was the jump off... Over two hundred junior high school cats descended on the senior gym like the bubonic plague on europe... But back to the lecture at hand.....Like an eskimo in a heat wave it was really neat to see the students dressed to impress in their best attempts to recreate my classic teacher style.. The day was so light hearted and it made me realize that teaching is more than delivering knowledge, raising reading levels, learning organizational skills, or how to do math problems void of a calculator that you will never have to do again in any aspect of your regular life.. Teaching is about relationships... Its about breaking down age barriers, and racial walls, showing a youth that learns more about diversity from MTV than they do from living in the ghetto... The ghetto is so segregated the only white people my students see are the plastic skeletons on Laguana Beach, police officers, and teachers.... This may sound wierd but it gives me a huge Kool-Aid smile to know that anyone of my students would take a bat to the back of someones head if they messed with me.... You can't buy that type of respect you can only earn it.... Well i digress, my tired eyes are again filled with a thrist for sleep... Seacrest out....

Without time can you be timeless?

2007-11-15T15:34:00.000-08:00

Matthew Broderick said it best in the 80's teen classic Ferris Buellers day off,
" Life moves by pretty fast.... if your not careful it will pass you by"
At times I feel like a robot without oil, or a conquistador without a compass...
This very dramatic and doubtfully poetic rant is how i begin my life as a blogger,
as the 21st century crashes in to me i meet it head on with no regard for my safety
No seat belt, I’m too cool for the safe belt, and far to practical for side airbags...
My day started today as it usually does i made it to work on time by the skin of my teeth
with caffeine provoked alertness i energetically high fived and head nodded students as i carried my bones through the hallowed halls of my high school in North Philly, trying to amp myself up like a gladiator entering the coliseum.
I sat down at my desk said hello to my fellow teachers and stared at Amelians picture on my computer screen...
It must have been about 10 seconds into my staring contest with Amelians picture that i realized "crap i am at work"
Pulling myself away i noticed the stack of papers that lined my desk as if a blizzard of dead trees had just come down on my work space and i swore the weather men had called for sunshine.. My day went much the same, as my morning, i felt distant, sluggish, like i had never talked to anyone in my life.. My words came out as if English was my second language....
My existence at work felt as awkward as a first kiss, but then in the midst of feeling overwhelmed i did the outlandish, i did the extreme... i prayed.... For me lately this has felt like a radical thing to do because i have been running around chasing hours that feel like seconds... It was only about a minute of silence, but in that silence i was saved from being so egocentric.... When i opened my eyes and looked around at my classroom i was sucker punched by a startling fact... I am incredibly blessed.. I stared at my computer screen and saw the smiling face of a beautiful girl who thinks that i am the cats meow... And who i am in constant awe of her beauty both inside and out.... i gazed at pictures and artwork of students i had taught and it all made sense... "Time moves pretty fast if your not careful it will pass you by" My fellow skeletons i call you all to silence... In all the static we can find clarity if we can just quiet ourselves through the noise that pollutes our peace.... Here is were i must retire my syllables witha kool aid smile.... and count my blessings like P Diddy counts Benjamins...