Just downloaded two my morning jacket albums.. Ready for the 45 minute drive to the restaurant. Driving in our truck in my old seat I sat in all the time.. Before I had a car. We all have our unspoken places in the car. Mine is right behind the passenger seat. I like sitting on the right side of the car when im not driving.. I think unconsciously it's because I an better able to analyze what the driver is doing. I can see the gauges, our speed, gas level ect.. I can see how much the driver Is moving the steering wheel so as to know what to expect.. But anyway back to my old seat.. Being here again reminds me of back than especially because I'm doing what I'd do in the seat normally.. I'd plug into my iPod.. Before hand I did it more so as to avoid conversations and the annoyances of my sisters whether they were fighting or just being irritating.. My parents were going through a rough patch most of my growing up.. My dad drives aggressively and my mom gets car sick easily which lead to many arguments in the car. This was a big reason why I lost myself from the car into my world of music.. I didn't have to hear everything.. I would keep my eyes down so as not to see angry frustrated movements, wide open mouths, obviously speaking angrily.. Things have gotten better since than.. It's not frequent like it was than.. It'll still creep out every now And than mainly when there are other annoyances such as the girls fighting and moms nausea.. That's not the reason I do it today.. I do it today to pass the time and avoid that godawful alleged music my sisters convince my parents to play.. But it brings back the memories of another time.
Monday, June 20, 2011
My dad grew up in Brooklyn NY. My dad and I have never had a great relationship. Admittedly it has gotten better in recent years, but we still can not see eye to eye on anything, but maybe we do see eye to eye more than we let on to or realize. He is definitely a left brain person whereas I use more of my right. In layman's terms, he thinks mechanically and conservatively (to a degree) whereas I think creatively and liberally. He doesn't understand that part of me, well I suppose you can say to a degree he understands, but doesn't really support that ideology. Just as I understand to a degree the way his mind works, but don't favor it. We both are arrogant. We both want people to see our way. This is where our conflict stems. We can't see things the way the other does, because it's not how our respective minds work. I hated him growing up. He expected too much of me. He expects too much of everyone. He expects everyone to automatically think the way he does and therefore do things exactly as he would. I always failed him, sometimes it was because I was being lazy, a lot of the times it was because I had no idea of what I was supposed to be doing or how I was supposed to be doing it. I always told myself I would never be him. I see a lot of him in me. People tell me I'm a lot like him. I suppose when it comes down to it our persona is quite similar. It's just the way we go about it that's different. I spent the greater portion of last Friday in a place called Williamsburg Brooklyn. Not too far off form where my pops stomping grounds were. Williamsburg is a fantastic little place. Especially for my type of people (creative, artistic, thinking, arrogant, stubborn people with some sense of fashion). I absolutely loved it. All day I couldn't get it out of my mind though that I thought it was ironical that I could love a place so close to the place, in fact in the same borough, as my father, the one I disliked so much growing up. Which is when it hit me that perhaps I do have more in common with my dad than I thought. I won't parent like he did. That I swear to you. His parenting definitely took a toll on me and my mind. I can't say I'd be the person I am today though had it not happened this way. Maybe I've been looking at the situation all wrong all this time. Truthfully he does have good qualities, but honestly the bad overpower his good ones. Maybe he hates this life we have to live in this cursed world as much as I do. Maybe he just doesn't let on to it as I do so openly. Maybe he does and doesn't realize how much he does. Maybe I'm crazy. Who knows, who knows?
Monday, June 13, 2011
Open your damn eyes. The people of society today all have their eyes closed. This frustrates me to a great extent. The kind of extent that makes me not want to be a part of this damned society. Everyone pretends. They live their life in complete and total naivety. Will you use that amazing thing encapsulated in your skull for one moment. I realize it hurts to do so, to see what life is today in its raw form. I understand that, but this is what we live in. This is the way things are, and if you can't and won't let yourself see that than you don't deserve to be here. You can distract yourself all you want but don't pretend. Don't pretend everything is ok and that life isn't completely unfair and random. Because that's what it is. We are all a bag of cells with an expiration date. Granted we have a higher purpose than 8/10ths of the population doesn't know of. That will be fulfilled at a later date, Until than all we have is to contribute to that purpose. But we are all alone. We come into this world alone and go out of it alone. Even if we die next to the person we love, we all die with our own ideals and perceptions and way of living that is unique to us, which in the end equals to us being one sole alone person. Stop pretending people. Stop.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Boiled down, these trips we're on are precariously short. They are magically abrupt, truncated briefings on the bigger pictures that we'll only get to step back from long, long after we can do anything about them. We won't be able to pull out the frame. We won't be able to tuck at the corners. We'll not be able to make ourselves look better in the photographs taken to recall these days. We'll not be able to take ourselves out of any of these photographs, nor will we be able to insert the people into them that we really wished were there at the times that we needed them to be there, or wanted them to be there. These are the heroic, solitary journeys that are done quietly, without so much as a hello or goodbye, just those footnotes that we give them. If only we were allowed some mulligans or given the chance to do a little editing, heaven help us. We'd make something spectacular out of these spare parts and these wild, flaying brambles. We are left out here with our limps, our eyes, our hearts and some spare change and we're supposed to get around on our own. We're supposed to figure it all out. We're supposed to find the right words to be said to the person or people in our lives who deserve all the right words being said to them. We're supposed to figure out the appropriate people to place our love in and we're to do so in a goddamn hurry. We're not supposed to mess it up over and over. We're supposed to get brighter and we're supposed to figure it out - figure out how to be right, to not feel broken all the time and how to makes others feel right and not so broken all of their time.