I Wonder, I Hope!

Ok, so remember when I went to that rave a couple months ago?  Just so happens another concert is happening in the same place. Now it’s kinda the same venue, not really a "rave" I would say, but its a great showing — TIESTO!

Now who doesn’t know this guy? I’ll be silly and say that we might not have anything in common if you don’t know who this is. Well besides all that, I thought 1. Hey I can’t miss this and of course was the ever obvious 2. I wonder if that guy I drooled over was going to be there; I hope.

This time.. I WILL have the courage to say hello.  What’s changed? Well the fact that I never had the guts to do so is not in question, but rather it would be a hellacious path for me to travel on. So in the past couple of months, and I’ve thought it over and over, I’ve learned that you only live once and life in my neighborhood is boring enough without me passing up any steamy opportunities. 

To See a Funeral

So last night, another dream. Again I am haunted by what seems to be a never-ending curse. It started somewhere in a bit of haze but not long after I was confused on what was going on; I realized I was sitting facing my mother on a sofa. One end was her, all dressed accordingly to show sympathy and respect; on the other was Dixon, also dressed in black accordance.  Grieving at the passing of his father, I found myself introducing him to my mother as she offered her wisdom and huge open heart.  She was gracious in her conversation with him, openly accepting him for someone that I once was deeply involved with.

A couple of things truly strike me as odd when I step out of my character in this dream and look at the situation. One, I’ve never nor have been asked to be in any way a part of or recognized as someone Dixon knows to his family.  I found it strange that I was surrounded by them all in such despairing times. Two, if there ever a time of need or a shoulder needed to cry on.  I am the last he would confide in, even back when we dated. His mind and heart mostly shut to the real person I slept with.  Not saying he had secrets, it is just he never talked about matters of the heart and / or emotion.  Most of our fights were started because I’d nag and force him to identify with emotion; not in his nature and looking back maybe I should have just trusted what was on my mind, rather than what was on his.

Nonetheless, I log another event. An event of a dream that hasn’t happened, a dream of a person through some cosmic or mystical joke has some ties to me that I can never seem to be free of.  They no longer control me or hinder me from happiness, they just linger — in the darkness, the shadow.  If the universe in all its perfection has found some need to keep balance by giving me visions of such fervent realism, are they nothing more than just coincidence? Or is there another reason, the name, the face, the memory continues to show it’s face welcomed or not?

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Who Do We Really Know?

I wouldn’t say this news spread like wildfires but it arrived in Atlanta quite quickly. They say you can know someone for a hundred years and really never know them. It is one of the scariest realities we have constantly surrounding us.

Let me go back… to when I was between 13 and 16 years old.

I had a math teacher, Ms. Frasier.  Excellent woman, good teacher and most of all, strong willed.  Many of the students, including myself always viewed her as down to earth and easy to talk to.  We, as students and even young adults, recognized the age difference between Ms. Frasier and ourselves, but we treated her like she was no different of age. Myself included behaved in an open manner around her, speaking candidly about troubles or woes of the school’s halls.  Nothing strange or unusual. Simply, we were open with her and she delivered a firm hand of wisdom to propel us back into not caring so much about the little things.

Ms. Frasier had a daughter, which was a friend of mine because we were in the same grade and usually had the same classes together.  As we approached the age of 16ish, We both had small evening jobs at the local community college in the library.  If there was any mischief to be found, the extent was laughing or giggling too loud while the older students were cramming to make the grade.

No need to really elaborate on my life at that age, or discuss the friendship I had with Connie. Purely platonic, lots of laughter and never got the indication he was “odd” or strange. If she flirted with boys, they were older or the same age, and by no means did she parade around or boast about kissing or making out with guys; openly social, but was courteous enough to know what conversations were appropriate.  Our mothers raised us the same in regards to knowing how to behave; and will say it holds true to just about everyone I was buddy buddy with in high school — well behaved without a doubt.

So I got this link in Facebook from another friend of the past…

Police Arrest Teacher After Lewd Photos Found On Teen’s Cell Phone | TriCities

, the one stating the accusations and charges against Connie.  Now, I haven’t talked to her in oh.. 20 some years max so I really have no clue what became of her when she was coming of age into a woman.  People change, but actually people don’t change their true self. That characteristic on people lasts from day 1 to day x.

Either I am terrified to belief that she truly is guilty of the allegations against her, or deep down it doesn’t fit.  Doesn’t seem like anything she would be close to doing.  I’m not the psychiatric evaluator of pedophile offenders, but I would have thought that if I was friends with one for nearly 10 years, I would have gotten a vibe they were odd in some face or fashion? Dunno.. and I am sure this one will remain a mystery to me.

The only closure I’ll know is if I follow up on the trial and listen to the evidence myself.  Are we sometimes better off not facing horrid realities and try to remember the good in people that we once remained loyal to?  Is it necessity or survial to shield yourself from the worst “truths”?

If You Could Read My Mind

An old song I’ve always loved, “If You Could Read My Mind”, sometimes plays its melody in my head at random intervals. I think about it this morning after falling asleep watching Torchwood Episode, “Greeks Bearing Gifts.”

Now I did finish the episode and passed out right after; however, it lingered in my thoughts.  Basically the episode is about hearing the thoughts of others and how many harsh things running through their minds. In everyday life we converse with others and have these little unconscious thoughts; sometimes we don’t even realize we are thinking them.  Point being, not everything that runs through our minds is necessarily the full truth of how we really feel or how we would really respond to situations. As fruitless as it may seem, these thought and even more so when they are carried into voice, are harmless. It’s like we are speaking words that have no meaning but can be so hurtful if the right person was to hear them.

The same can be said about feelings and thoughts of admiration and grandeur, cannot it not?

MSN Spaces – UGH

One of the reasons I moved to Blogger is because MSN spaces is so inflexible with any other sites out there. Again I found the some of the same problems with Blogger. Now, I am hoping WordPress is my new home for good. So far I like all the features and the compatibility with all my other apps.

In the interim, I am forced to manually enter all my posts from MSN Spaces, however, it is UNFRIENDLY and no way to export so its a basic cut and paste task from here until who knows how long it will take me to finish.

Why do it?

I have starting thinking about why have a blog, what do I say in it, what do I write…. From the moment I started I wanted to speak what was on my mind, say what was on my chest, whether rash or in jest or true to the heart. I feel that initiative is the reason I should continue.

Going forward, I want to keep more of a journal more of a look at what my life is like. For what reason? Not all things have reason, but if any accurate point into my thoughts as to the reason, I’d say… It is not important for me to be like by everyone, nor do I care about the thoughts of others but my drive my intention is for… well.. someone should know this side of me.. maybe to speak it or to write it is good for my memory and my reflection, but most of the words I say here aren’t shared with friends.

My friends and I rarely speak about such intricate details of my thoughts or what my heart feels, not that we are shallow, but who really wants to indulge themselves for hours on matters of the heart. It can be exhausting. So maybe to keep it all here, is to keep it to myself (per say) and hell… well… let’s just leave it at that. To continue is whole new post, one of great length. No time to write all that this morning. Cheers!

Retracing Steps

For the 4th, I was invited to this rave. I contemplated on going, one, I feel somewhat a little too old do be leaping around town from party to party and, two, it’s usually just a hangout for the younger crowd. But not being a stranger to these type of events and would be in the good company of good friends (Liz) I thought why not. Before we arrived, I kept wondering why I felt so uneasy and nervous; I guess I didn’t want to seem out of place and was perplexed at why I actually cared about what others thought. So anyway, we got the party started and arrived around midnight. The place was bumpin! Lots of energy and I started to recall why I used to hang out at these events.

Pretty much anyone you greet will always have a welcoming gesture and demeanor. Everyone puts down the differences of race, sociological categories and enjoys the company of others. Many factors play into the reasoning; of which I won’t completely mention here, but if you’ve been to one of these events you have a good idea of what I am talking about.

Immediately I started reflecting on the past; about how I used to go to these raves with Dixon all the time and how much fun (well sometimes) we would have. He being the closet case at the time always left the fate of fun a huge toss up. Sometimes he would act like he knew me; sometimes he would act like he just met me, sometimes he would just ignore me. The things you tolerate when you are crazy about someone; I guess that is why they refer to those emotions as “crazy about someone”. Realistically, it is nuts to be at a rave and feel like the only one there who cannot be free. But that’s neither here nor there, my recollections were about the events not the past company. Until…..

I passed by this guy, several times who would exchange glances with me on several occasions. He looked and danced just like Dixon from 14 years ago. How the mind likes to replay things and never let you forget some of the finer details in life. An hour or two into the rave, and I was flat out staring at him. I couldn’t get over how identical they were…. or was it just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m sure he wondered what in the hell I was staring at and so did I. I swear, it could have been his son for all I know (which to my knowledge he doesn’t have one). He had to have been 21 or just barely; full of life, smiles, energy and had the cutest dorky dance. The glances went on all night and I never got the courage to say hi or hello and strike up a conversation. I’m not good in that department and always regret not having the balls to speak sometimes. What would I say? Should I admit to him that he reminds me of someone that I can never seem to forget? And he’s too young for me to hit on; but honestly I would have; my mind and my reality had turned back 15 years and I stepped away from what is current. So without the foresight of a proper conversation, it never advanced beyond last night.

The way I looked at him, was like the way I first saw Dixon standing at the upper balcony in Backstreets Atlanta. Beyond handsome, just radiating beauty at it’s finest. It bothers me to the greatest end at why I cannot stop remembering those days and why I feel permanently scarred. Truth be told, there is no doubt in my mind it was never meant to be… I see that now; I feel that now. I came to terms with this at one point when I reflected on the way he used to treat our relationship. When you love someone, you work to make it work; you pay the price and you tolerate and practice forgiveness knowing how much you love them. With me, he never tried. One of my biggest fears was facing the fact that I was involved, in love, with someone for years and discovering with out a shadow of doubt… I was the only one in love. Terrifying to want to believe something so much that the truth in all of its harshest reality, skews anything and everything that is in your face.

I think the same thing as everyone else… Yes it has been 14 years now and I am SOO tired of remembering the “us” that is still so vivid in my mind just as much as friends / family are tired of hearing the story. It worries me sometimes that I feel like I can never get over this… but I think this is as “healed” as I get. So many years I wasted thinking he would return to me; I never want to waste another on such ridiculous notions. I don’t hear from him anymore which is either a good thing or a bad thing. Good, that his current relationship is going well… or so I hope. Or bad, that went south and he doesn’t want to talk to me cause he knows I’ll ask. His string of relationships have never worked out for him either, but he seems to be in more of them than I am. For me, I am pretty in tune with how I feel about people so stringing them along isn’t my game plan, but I do feel I tend to cut things short and miss out on some good times with guys only because once I know how my heart feels; it feels deceitful to not let them know. I more than likely prematurely judge my heart; it has a bad track record of leading me into sticky situations. For those reasons, a friendship with him was never possible. I simply look at him like as if you were to take a boy to a real “North Pole” and turn him loose in the toy factory; a great analogy considering it is truly the expression on my face every time I see him. It’s better this way, since he has made it clear him and I will not ever be together, my only hope is without him.

Anyway, back to the rave… to super and over analyze my reasons for not speaking to the guy. Parts of me want so badly to feel the same way I did when I was with Dixon; but the majority of me is too terrified to ever love someone so much that you are blinded from the reality of if they love you are not. Should being in love be conditional on whether the person you love is in love with you; and is conditional love not a true love at all; since true love is without boundaries? The irony is quite humorous! Hahah. And where is the manual on the definition and mechanical workings of “true love”. To be in love is to be a fool; in every glorious joyful detail of it.

Yes, I realize that this guy at the rave wasn’t involved in any of my past or magical illusions I had created last night, and I’m sure if he knew what was running through my mind he would terrified for life. So I saved him from any trauma that might have resulted from “Hi, my name is Doug”; just call me a humanitarian. But ah yes, the taste from just one kiss from him would have been the poison to end me; but it’s sweetness was almost more temptation than I could handle. If I had spoken, there would be no turning back.

Regret — friend or foe?

Learning New Tricks

So one of my new goals this year is to become more involved in designing web pages, but even more so, learn the latest and greatest tricks and software applications on the market.

First I am starting with the Adobe Suite, all the way from Photoshop / Illustrator to Adobe Soundbooth.  Yah, sure I know that I am pretty fluent in some of the graphical Adobe products, but I am thirsty to get my hands dirty in some of the more complicated applications — like Flash, Contribute, Device Central. Which brings me to this little bit of info that no one will find interesting but me, since I am actually looking at the screen — Contribute; I’m using it to connect to all my websites and EVEN my blogs to keep content fresh and vibrant.  We’ll see how it goes.. so far it’s a dream and love the way it keeps things on your harddrive as backups or even for tagged information throughout your computer.

Warhammer Open Beta Begins

Starting up this weekend! Glad I have EVERYTHING done so I can vege in front of the computer like a good little nerd and get my game on. Although my days of hording unhealthy food while playing games is over…. I do still like to indulge a few things while chasing some kid around a game firing arrows at his head. Evil aren’t I?

Anyway, if you are into games and haven’t heard about it, you must be living under a rock. It’s the best thing on the market as far as MMOs go. But don’t just believe me, try it yourself!

http://www.warhammeronline.com/

That’s Just Wrong!

So check this story out. I was chatting with the mom earler this week, dicussing this and that, but she mentioned how thrilled she was to be mailing off her final vehicle payment. Naturally I was excited with her; who doesn’t want to get those vehicles paid off.

She continues to tell me, when she went outside to head to the grocery store the vehicle was gone.  In horror, she went to the neighbors and asked if they had seen anything.  Someone had just stolen the truck right from the driveway in the middle of the night.  Now, to give you an idea of how unlikely this is, my parents live on a farm out in the middle of no where.  This thing just doesn’t happen up there.

Naturally the next step was to call the police, so she called them only to listen to another horror! The sheriff told her that the truck was in repossession!  She freaked because she had all the papers and statements proving that she had always paid on time.  Immediately calling the back, they gave her attitude and demanded that she fax over statements showing that she paid.  When she asked the lady witch  what the records indicated, she replied to say that it showed in good standing but it also showed for repossession.  Idiots.  After they got the fax, they returned the truck.

All my mother got in return was a “apology” from the bank manager.  The state trooper that arrived at the house said there was nothing she could do because the truck wasn’t stolen, legally.  However in reality, someone with no authority, trolled upon my parents in the middle of the night and took property away from them.  Where are the laws to protect people?  There aren’t any it seems.

And to label this atrocious bank, its BB&T.  May they rot for their idiots behind the desk.