Final Words.

In typical fashion, and after 51 consecutive weeks, I managed to somehow forget to write entries for this final week of the year. I say typical because spacing out on something that has up until now been routine for just shy of a year does not surprise me. In my defense, I've been distracted; vacations tend to do that. But there's really no excuse. I'm more than slightly disappointed in myself for failing this close to the end. I could have gone back and tried to fabricate entries, but that would have been disingenuous and a waste of time. No, instead I'll leave them blank and hope to learn from my "mistake." This blog has taught me a lot over this past year, mainly that if I decide to keep to a schedule of something I can (more or less) follow through. Perhaps it was asking too much, but as I made it 51/52 weeks, I don't really see that it was a goal beyond my grasp. 2012 will be an exciting and productive year filled with more writing than I've done to date, and even more growth. On the whole, I'm happy with the way this blog has progressed. From what I can remember, it had a difficult start, but I pushed through and managed to make writing a part of my weekday routine. Now the focus shifts slightly, and though I plan on keeping some form of blog during the rapidly approaching new year, the majority of my writing energy will be channeled into creative projects intent on advancing my professional career. Now is the time. I am more than prepared. The levee breaks at the coming of the new dawn.

Breaking Tradition.

A chirping in the darkness cuts the silence of the morning. It's early on the eve of Christmas Eve, a day constructed of anticipation. And lying here in consideration of all that's come to pass, the serenity I feel resonates in a low vibrational tone. It's a long and hollow buzz that warms me in a way that I've never felt before. Reassurance and comfort, before they were just concepts I understood to exist in an abstract. But now I have them wholly by my side, sleeping next to me, and stealing more of my heart each day. I guess you could say Christmas came early, for she's all I've ever wanted.

Shift a pair of dimes.

A ray of sun breaks through the curtain, a tell-tale sign of things to come. Clear blue skies work their deceit this, the first day after the winter solstice. And now the days grow longer, and the perception of more time becomes harder to ignore, as those rays of sun grow stronger. It's opportunity, and while everyone has their struggles to face, it is those with the positive outlook who will overcome the obstacles. How can one win if the mind is already filled with defeat? No, the possibility of victory increases with the conviction that a positive outcome is certain. Perception informs reality, fill the first half full and watch the other half appear.

Tinkering.

The tendency for disassembling mechanisms chatters like an obsessed goblin in my mind. Pouring over possibilities with logic and reason in an attempt to discover the secret of genesis, the constant desire to understand formation circles the brink of madness. For the purpose of this dismantling is reverse-engineering, and though it uncovers many an amazing discovery, its fundamental flaw is that it's backwards. A new system must be pioneered, one of organic growth. There is only so much study one can do until it comes time to build, to play, to learn through the natural evolution of artistic process.

Quantum Longing

Molecular motion, set in play by the simplest of understandings that this truth is real. For possibilities become realities when they are believed to be, as groups and individuals all come to the same conclusion about the group hallucination known as reality. What benefit or edge does this knowledge provide? For most, it is simply enough to know that we aren't alone in all of this, that together we have influence over the situation. If only we all believed we could help each other, what a beautiful world that would be.

That nagging voice.

A night of restless sleep and a bed of twisted sheets are all a racing mind has to show for itself. No telltale dreams of fantasy, no musings on the greater scope of life, just a bland acceptance of another day come to pass. It's hard to know how to answer the question, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" I've never wanted to grow up in my life.

...and over again.

Surrounded on all sides by resistance, I push forward to no avail. With no motivation or enthusiasm to speak of, I'm left to calculate my next moves alone. A simple realization and declaration of intent would be enough to save me, but for reasons unknown to me I sit idle while life whips by me in sheets of gusty wind. What am I waiting for? Even if I could say, it would be but another excuse in a long list. Only when I accept my situation and rise to the challenge will I find the paths which lead to freedom.

Stained glass.

Paralyzed by over-thought, I sit in the cold of winter's air. Encumbered by the weight of different projects and ideas, I've slowly grown immobile. The only way out from under it all is to cease being precious about creations, and let them live or die on their own merit. And though I'm worried that some will fail, all I can do is create with honesty, for conviction creates voice, and present the world with what I view as truth.

jail break

Sometimes words escape me.

On the importance of preparation.

As the year winds down, a certain level of self-reflection becomes necessary to assess the level of growth that has occurred over time. Growth can be defined in many ways, but to me it's about what processes have been integrated into my life, and how they have improved or hindered my development as a person. Looking back on this year, so far, I feel progress has been made; I am the closest to where I want to be than I have ever been, but I've yet to achieve many goals. This is okay, however, for it gives me the opportunity to prepare for the next year, and develop and implement new ideas and processess into my routine with the intention of breaking through multiple thresholds and transcending my adolescent self.

Rain delay.

Cradled by the white noise of the raindrops as they fall, I curl up beneath the soft warm armor of my blankets and rest. The cool air caresses my exposed face like the other side of the pillow. I stare at the grey sky through my window, a monochrome expanse of precipitation, and I breath it in. A long, rejuvenating sigh releases tension from my addled body, and I can feel myself go limp. I haven't yet risen for the day and it's already time to nap.

Is enough enough?

The northern fog, so lonely in its spreading creep, grasps tightly the terrain beneath it. A misunderstood elemental, it seeks companionship. But the way in which its cloudy feet spill over as it walks frightens many of those nearby. Afraid of being swallowed whole, and losing individuality within that cool grey beast, they turn up their collars and rush off to find warmth. And looking out into the early morning, the condensation on the window drips the tears of the weeping phantom.

[broth]ers

Set and reset, a reconnection with the base self. A harsh reality of blown-off steam, rising in smokey twirls of inspiration. The dull ache of a meeting of minds come quickly. Eager and childish excitement mixed with the rationale of men. A confusing soup of ideology mixing, as this trial by fire proceeds to boil over.

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True Love is the dream from which you don't awake.

Wonder Winterland

The last month of the year always brings about introspection. In preparation for a winter of hibernation, my body and mind begin the process of evaluating and shutting down the behaviors of the past eleven months. Those that have served a positive function shall remain in the cycle, while those that have proven troublesome are adjusted or removed. December is not a sprint to the finish, but a rest up for the next stage, the new year. It's about planning a new assault, preparing for the implementation of new ideas. December can be melancholy, darker and colder, and not without the pain of loss as defining characteristics are often shed. Ultimately, though, it's about burning through the fat reserves, trimming waste to be lean and ready for a productive start.

Mourning Sleep

Shadowed by a medicated haze, this veil before me all at once so thick yet so flimsy. Iron aprons cover the backs of my eyes, protection from the radiation of the early morning light. The fight for consciousness struggles around me to the tune of morning birds and a snoring dog; deviously soothing in their suggestion that a bit of a snooze may not be such a bad idea after all.

A freeing feeling

Facing fear is frightening at first, for finding fault feels formal. But beneath the broken barriers of bitterness breathes a bit of betterment. It's about allocation; allowing anonymity to arise and addressing it. Naming nerves and nearsightedness, noise and neurosis. Gratitude gives goals grace, so live with love and learn the lesson that loses limitations.

Gutsy gusts

A night of tortured wind awakes. Tired and whipped, the air insits, thrashing itself throughout the branches of the trees. To what end? The answer remains a mystery, tossed about inside the breeze. Even in the moments of calm that punctuate the regular outbursts, one still has the sense that this invisible tantrum has yet to be resolved. So for the meantime, enjoy the clarity.