Inspiration

I was, I am, I will be the inspiration of my day, the becoming of something beautiful ever changing and  reluctant to stay still.

I've got a broken heart, and I cant seem to take a step with out falling back on what I could've been for her, but never for me.

The sublime, but not the pursuit of anything, but just be, and become as life wishes, pausing just enough to marvel at its brilliance, and perfection; its balance and adjustments, but just being with no grand desire of becoming something if I do not know I should or shouldn't.

I want to grasp the simplicity of just being and wash away this frustration of not being able to be whatever she wanted me to be.

I wanted to be her inspiration, the perfect fit and the fallacy lies right within that premise of wanting to be something for someone and believing that happiness should follow suit.

Traveling

I was back on the road again last week, and as usual, not a big fan of taking pictures. Just the thought of planning and stop life for a second in order to capture the moment seems so fake to me, do not ask me why, it just does.

Well, this time I did take a couple, just so I can post them here and prove that I was indeed traveling.

Anyway, I wanted to share my feelings when traveling, and I'm not sure, but I would like to think I'm not the only only one who thinks or feels this way.

My first sensation when sitting at the gate, or walking up  and down the terminals, seeing the rivers and oceans of people walking, running, standing, I cannot help but wonder, almost obsess about each and every one of them, about their lives. Where are they going, where are they coming from, what does your house look like, what kind of car they drive, how is their room decorated, what do they do when no one is watching? Are they as perverted as me? I wish I could learn all that just from watching, and observing. Are they sad? happy? what was the latest news the hear before leaving home? what are the thinking? Are they thinking about me the same way I'm thinking about them?

Every time I travel, my diminished feelings of belonging are worsen; the stranger that no one ever notices, a ghost walking up and down the crowded hallways of solitude.

Last night as I was charging my phone in O'Hare I couldn't help but feeling less than a grain of sand in and endless beach, and no matter how special I wanted to make myself feel, the insignificance of our existence could not have been more obvious.

Courage

Where do we find that little push we desperately need when we hit bottom? Leave that sucky job that is going nowhere, wake up really early in the morning to workout or leave her when you know deep inside she never loved you? When you've failed time and time again to win her heart but it never was meant to be yours?

My mind is drained, my heart broken into thousands little pieces of liquid  sadness and I can't find that little extra in me to walk away.

 is plain cowardice or can it be justified as tiny threads of hope still lingering in the void of our failures?

My temp corner

I would say, given the fact that I do not like myself one bit, that I'm the least interesting man in the world, and you would think that I'm looking, reaching if you will for someone to tell me... "no, you are special", but I am not. I couldn't take a compliment from my FB "friends" or any other attention seeking whore.

I didn't shower today, and after working the whole morning, I went and watched TV for a little while, waited for the wife to cook, then when the afternoon was setting down, I worked on my backyard... the real mexican huh? I love working on my yard, but I hate picking up dog poop the same as I hate cleaning puke, and why not, wiping my ass.

Anyway, I also spent a good part of my evening cleaning up my temp corner.

So now I'm sitting at one of those chairs, drinking my pinot noir, eating cheese, and after a couple of chapters from the first and last freedom, I was drunk enough to pull out my laptop and write a couple of lines.

I am married, I've never had an affair, I've got 2 dogs, a job, 3 kids, 2 cars, a laptop, a bike, and after a whole day of nothingness I wash away my thoughts in a sea of depressing thoughts and irrelevant data that comes out of my tv or computer, so yes, I am as vanilla as they come, and for one or two reasons, that bothers the shit out of me.

I want to be a Jim Morrison, and Albert Einstein, a God damn Frank Sinatra, fuck, I wish I was my dog Calvin the careless little yorkie who sits on the sun the whole day waiting for someone to open the backyard door to come running inside and pee everywhere. I wish I could pee everywhere!

Back to my initial comment... I am the least interesting man in the world, and I drink 2 X for Christ's sake!

Why do we crave to be spacial? we chase that spacial place in someone else's mind with complete disregard of what we are and want giving ourselves away that not even the whore at the corner would only to find disappointment and misery, but isn't that what we crave? drama and misery? it not that the ultimate sacrifice?
To live and die for someone else other than ourselves?

Social Media

I woke up this morning with the inexplicable desire to know what you had for breakfast, and of course the need to decipher what your cryptic message could possibly mean, and how could I resist that relatively cute picture of your kids, no, no, no, I can't. I need to know every little single detail of your interesting life, and if you can add to all that, those beautiful single line expensive pieces of wisdom you acquired either from another post somewhere within your massive list of friends or read in the back of the bus... please share it all!

I was just thinking that I could possibly write a whole inspirational book if I were to append all those little notes we are writing on each other's walls and circles and probably make me a million or so. 

I sat on my judgmental chair last night and while bored with my own life I turned to my trusted FB and G+ to fill in the gap. Low and behold, I didn't run short on inspirational quotes from all my happy well adapted "friends" who spend countless hours sitting on their ass looking for something interesting to put, and oh my God have they failed, day in and day out they have failed in providing me with the entertainment and depth I so desperately need.  

I wish I could trade likes, and be part of the club, and I am so jaded now that even when someone manages to put up something interesting I somehow dismiss it as stupid or useless, but we have become such a lazy bunch that blogs and full length articles have become thing of the past and replaced by tweets because guess what??? they HAVE to be short! 

Which brings me to a realization that I better stop writing before I lose the one reader that might have come across this.

I have literally been having this strange sensation lately of being outside of the world, a complete outsider if you like. I do not seem to be able to connect with a single person in my life as every conversation that I could have would be completely irrelevant.

I'm incapable of capturing any of my thoughts which seem to be blazing through my mind leaving it emptier as time progresses, which brings me to a topic that has been circling my mind; pretty much like bird of prey circles the sky calculating its attack, waiting for the perfect moment to charge and rip the profits of its patience and drive only to satisfy its hunger. Is my life interesting? what does interesting mean? is it fashionable to be interesting? Do I find anything interesting at all? And all those questions force me to thing about labels; labels of level of intrigue, fascination, beauty, humor, introversion, extroversion, pleasant, perfect...boring! next topic please.

Uncertainty

It's been a while, and the further I take myself, the shorter the distance gets.
I flow and flow; I'm a river of molten lava in a crystal drop of nothingness.

I was sitting down, watching TV as I tried to pin down the pain in my chest and as I was wrapping it around my finger I suddenly realized I had completely detached from my soul... I tried to get back to it, but my pain dragged me through the universe.

It's just past midnight, and it feels like I've lived for a 1000 years. I can't find my pain; I can't find the pleasure of swimming through the emptiness.