Moving On

Hi there.  Just wanted to let everyone who reads this blog (all two of you) that I have started over with a new blog.  I have a lot of blogs floating around the internet and I want to consolidate my thoughts into one place.

You can go to here to read my new blog!  Please subscribe to it as you may have done to this one so you’ll never miss an update!

Thanks!

Puppy Park

I really enjoy going to Forsyth.  It’s a really nice place to go and relax or exercise or do nothing at all.  Not only is the park pretty enough to hold your interest for a while but there are always plenty of people and puppies to observe when you tire of the low hanging trees and rotted wooden benches.

You have the tourists, of course, with a camera glued to one hand and a map to the other, usually white haired folk with short shorts and big bellies.  The men wear socks and sandals and the women carry around fanny packs filled with restaurant coupons and ghost tour information.

You have the casual exercisers with their MP3 players tucked into their sweats, pacing themselves as they loop around the perimeter of the park.  Then you have the hardcore exercisers with their MP3 players strapped to their arm, athletic shoes, spandex leggings, neoprene belts, pedometers attached to their hips and heart rate monitors attached to their wrist watches.  They look like they just stepped out of a Bally’s commercial and you can always spot them because they walk so hard they lap the runners and they always swing their arms in the air at a comedic level just to burn 20% more calories.  They have their noses in the air, aviator glasses across their eyes, looking like they could smash through a brick wall.  On the other side of the spectrum, you have the people who wanna get healthy in a more relaxed environment by laying down mats in the grass and doing yoga, finding their center among the chirping birds and warm sunshine.

Then there’s the SCAD kids, mostly scenesters who ride on their Goodwill bikes and have one pant leg rolled up on their Goodwill pants.  They ride as fast as they want and don’t even need SPF because their beards protect their faces from the chapping elements.  The indie girls in their ragamuffin clothes like to sit with their grizzly boyfriends and eat lunch under a tree.  The jocks (who always travel in packs) peel off their shirts and play frisbee or tag football.  You have the occasional crazy that roams the area, screaming gibberish at no one in particular.  Sometimes homeless people with nothing to their name but a shopping cart full of cans will get a good day’s sleep on a crooked bench.

And then (and this is my favorite) you have the people that take their dogs there to walk them.  Young couples, old couples, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, entire families will walk their pets along one of the paths woven within the park.  The dogs always look so happy, wagging their tails and sniffing everything.  And why wouldn’t they be happy?  There’s so much stimuli.  And I think about how much my dog Sam would love to come here.  He’d be so excited he wouldn’t know what to do with himself!  He’d probably pee from the sheer overwhelming intensity.  I think I’d enjoy it as well.

I usually come to the park alone and it would be nice to experience such sights with a companion rather than just a journal.  And now that I think about it, it seems like I don’t see many single people.  As nice as it is go to the park and enjoy being outside and as great of a place as it is for reflection and a slice of solitude, it’s better when you bring someone.  It’s nice to enjoy this time and space with someone you care about.  It’s fun to make fun of the stupid SCAD kids together or enjoy the puppies together.  As nice of a thought as it is, it’s merely just that: a thought.  This place will always be just a thought, just a rest stop for reflection and nothing more.  It’s my singular spot.  A place for people, puppies, and then only me.

Love Lacerated

Before I realized the toll the elements were going to take on my sinuses, I foolishly decided to enjoy the beautiful day by going to Forsyth park to do some dog seeing and writing.  I hurriedly ran my errands so I could get in a few hours of sunshine before it got dark.  By the time I got there, I estimated I had about two hours to sit and enjoy the sun and sights before I’d have to go back to my room.

I was finally finding some semblance of inspiration, whipping my muse like a two dollar hooker and drudging up some decent inner dialogue when all of a sudden, a white and wispy hand flew in my peripheral vision.  I looked up to see an older lady clad in black with matching hair that corkscrewed out of her head and a camera clasped to her side.  Her garish red lips were moving over her tilted teeth but I had no idea what she was saying because I was listening to my iPod.

I pulled out my ear buds as she continued, “Would you please do me a big favor?  I’m photographing this newlywed couple right here,” as she pointed toward a man and woman in wedding garb, “and I actually need to set up right where you’re sitting.  So, if you could just move down a bench or two that would be greaaat,” and she said great quite condescendingly, as if my presence was inhibiting her “craft.”  Well, she was inhibiting mine!  I was trying to write when she interrupted me.  What if I was on the brink of some kind of literary revelation?  What if I was writing my Walden?  She definitely squashed that with her wiry hair and unnerving mouth.  I could tell pretty quickly that she seemed to be one of those superior types, an Annie Leibovitz wannabe, sans the money and resemblance to Michael Douglas.

I was mildly offended because, really, the park is huge.  She could have snapped her shots anywhere else but she just had to do it right where I was sitting?  And she wanted me to move?  Couldn’t she wait her turn?  Couldn’t she have went somewhere else to shoot the soon-to-be divorced couple while I wrote about the power of love?  I suspect she wanted to take pictures close to the fountain, a beautiful backdrop for two people’s beautiful day (and the last one they’ll ever see).  Well, I also wanted a beautiful backdrop to incite some inspiration for my writing.  I guess I wasn’t significant enough to enjoy such a sight.

What a novel idea.  Let’s get married and have our picture taken at Forsyth!  Awesome, only ten million other couples have done that over the years.  What a cliché.  In fact, the lady explained to me that another married couple were getting their pictures taken on the other side of the fountain, so that’s why she had to come around and butt in on my territory.  And as much as I enjoy the park, it’s not that spectacular.  If I ever did get married, it wouldn’t be there, surrounded by all the homeless people and puppy poop.  No thanks.

Naturally, being the passive aggressive person that I am, all these thoughts flowed through my head but not my mouth.  I just slapped on a saccharine smile and said, “Sure, no problem, I don’t mind at all.”

“Thank yoooou,” in that same condescending tone.

I moved over to the next available bench, put my ear buds back in, and tried to pick up where I left off.  I couldn’t shake the events and had to switch direction.  I instead wrote about what had just happened, all the while the black clad, wire-haired woman began the usual photographer shtick.

“Okay, now look like you’re really in love with her!”

Um, was that direction really necessary?  It was their wedding day.  And if she really needed to see that love pop sizzle through the lens, then that couple is in trouble.

“Remember, this is the best day of your life!  Let’s see those pearly whites!”

“What a beautiful dress!”

In fact, the bride was wearing a beautiful dress.  But it wasn’t white… it was gold.  You know what that means.

whore.

If the lady had included me in the photo shoot and had zoomed out to frame all of us, the lens would have revealed a physical representation of my (lack of) love life.  We have the happy couple and their family on the left, full of smiles and fluff and then me, all alone on the right, with nothing to keep me company but my music and my words.  A sad commentary.  Once again, love comes along and pushes me out of the way to make room for the more deserving.  Am I not that deserving?  Will I ever make that transition from lonely loser to handsome husband?  And at the very least, aren’t I deserving enough to just enjoy the scenery?

Plans

I find myself hesitating when it comes to making plans for this quarter.  I know I’m not alone when I come across a fresh start in life and then resolve to make some changes, make some plans to do better.  Everyone does it.  And everyone gives up after a day or two.  It’s just like resolutions people make each new year.  We plan to do better and yet we don’t.  Perhaps we’ve dug ourselves too good of a rut, become too comfortable with our lifestyle and it’s too much of a hassle to change, even if it’s a change for the better.

Logically, I know I should be reading and writing more.  I should be exercising and doing yoga and meditating and trying to clear my head.  I should pray more and go to church.  I should cut out all sweets and soda.  Yet, here I sit, day after day, wasting my time and my life away on YouTube and Doritos.  I don’t write.  Unread books are piled up in the corner of my room.  My memoir goes unwritten and each day that passes is another memory lost, another situation that goes unrecorded and less material to work from.  I’m not out in the sunshine, not soaking up nature and appreciating the beauty of the light and wind.

It’s just hard.  I feel safer in my enclosed space, my tiny bedroom.  This is all mine and no one can take this from me.  This is no one else’s.  I can be selfish in my room.  I don’t have to interact with people, don’t have to put on a show and pretend to be something I’m not.  I can just be my unflinchingly true self.  And that is comfortable because it’s hard to put on a mask on a daily basis and be something to everyone.  It’s exhausting and I think that’s why I don’t have any energy to change my ways.  I’m too tired to exercise, too emotionally exhausted to relive my life and write about it, too drained to do anything but sit and rot.  It’s hard to work on relationships when I don’t like anyone.  It’s hard to work on myself when I don’t like who I am.  It’s too much trouble to start over so I just keep everything messy because, allthough I don’t like it, it’s easier to manage than completely overhauling everything.

There’s a disappointment that follows not following plans.  Every summer for as long as I could remember I’d say I was going ot lose a ton of weight.  I always said when I got back to school everyone was going to be shocked at how good I looked.  It never happened.  I was always my same old fat self and nothing ever changed.  No one ever looked at me different.  I always say I’m going to take better care of myself but I never did.  I still don’t.  I just don’t care about myself enough to say, “Hey, Brannon!  You gotta do better, buddy.  This is not the life you were meant to have.”  Instead I think to myself, “Well, you suck anyway so you deserve to be miserable.”  And I’m disappointed that I didn’t follow through with the new plans I’ve made.  I just let myself down over and over again, which doesn’t help with the whole dislike for myself thing.  It’s a cycle.  It’s a dirty, demeaning cycle and somehow I’ve thrown myself into this and I don’t know how to throw myself out.  And so I stay as I am, bloated and sick of everything.

I have a feeling this quarter will be just like all the others.  I’ll wake up late, go to class, do homework, eat a ton of junk, waste my time on the internet and then go to sleep at three in the morning.  Rinse and repeat until graduation.  Nothing meaningful or healthy.  Just purely withering.

Ah, at least I can take comfort in knowing I’ll follow through with those plans.  It’s the only way I won’t disappoint myself.

Evaporated

i find you sweeping in and out of my life
just like this lump in my throat
some days you catch me off guard
clutching my cords and leaving me breathless
while other times i can feel you fading away

i find myself swimming in and out of the strings
i sew together into songs that play in my head
nourished by the notes like my meat and drink
as I craft sweet serenades and sing them to you
to make you smile in hopes you’ll stick around

i find us swerving in and out of space
torn apart by time and distracted by distance
wow, i never thought the day would come
when I would disremember your face
or forget you ever existed at all

Spring Break Sloven

Feels so good to be back home in my own bed with my face buried in a fluffy pillow and my cat lying in between my feet at the end of the bed.  It just sucks because I know that in a day or two I’ll be so used to home that I’ll take it for granted and forget to soak it all in.  The sights, the smells, the feelings, it’ll all become as commonplace as breathing until the day I have to step back into my car and make that eight hour drive once again and return to my cold, small room at school.  I don’t mean physically cold, just a feeling, a vibe.  It’s a school dorm.  How cozy can it actually be?  No matter how many posters you put up, no matter how broken in the mattress is, it’s just not home.

I’m going to try to make a conscious effort to make every day special.  Not that I’m going to go out everyday and do amazing things and go to the beach and hang out with friends.  No.  I plan on staying here every day and writing, reading, watching movies and playing video games.  I know.  I’m a wild child.  Frankly, I’m just not a beach goer.  Sorry if I don’t enjoy looking at hard bodies of girls and knowing I can never be with them and looking at hard bodies of guys and knowing I can never be like that.  Nah, I prefer to live my life in fantasy worlds of movies and games.

I just hope I can remember to appreciate each day I have because they are so few.  I only have around seven days left and it seems like such an inefficient amount of time.  And there’s so much I want to do.

First of all, I need to catch up on my writing.  I’ve had so many ideas floating around in my head, plus certain occurrences that have transpired over the last several weeks.  I just haven’t had the energy or time I’ve wanted to write something decent.  Well, now I have all the time in the world so hopefully I should be writing some good stuff.

I also want to read more.  I did so well in January and then I got stuck on a book in February and then started working on my film constantly so just stopped reading all together.  I downloaded a bunch of books onto my Kindle and bought some physical books as well.  I bought two yoga books ’cause I really want to start getting into yoga.  One was yoga for men which is supposed to teach me how to get an erection without having to take a pill first and the other one was yoga for depression which is supposed to teach me how to be happy… without having to take a pill first.  Since yoga is supposed to be good for the mind, body and soul, I figured it’s perfect for me as I need help in all of these areas.

I also wanna catch up on my movies.  I went to the movie rental store yesterday and picked up a couple of horror flicks and two games.  I can’t believe they only had one copy of Resident Evil 5 and was more flabbergasted that the one copy was available!  I snatched that baby right up.  I mean, it’s a pretty highly anticipated game.  And it was Saturday.  And there was only one copy.  And yet, there it was, waiting for me!  I have yet to play it but I will be very soon!  I also picked up Dead Space and played it for about half and hour before the CD messed up and couldn’t be read any more.  Pretty annoying.  Oh well, I’m gonna be killing infected villagers soon enough.  Oh yeah, and I have this super hot African agent as my partner.  A hot girl with a gun standing next to me?  Sounds like fun to me if I don’t get too distracted!

Ah, lazy days and their wonderful ways.  Things are good at the moment.

Consume

Senior Project has been the most daunting task I’ve ever had here.  I don’t think I made matters any easier by waiting until midterms to get started and then deciding to color the whole thing twice.  Yeah, I’m dumb but I was going for a style that required layering.  Unfortunately, I didn’t achieve the desired results but I’m stuck with what I’ve done.  It’s certainly too late to go back now.  I’ve been doing nothing but going to class, coming back to my room to eat or sleep, and then coloring with the rest of my time.  I have a two minute film to color, frame by frame, ‘yall!  That takes a long time.  I feel like I’m living in squalor.  I haven’t had much time to clean my room or even tidy it up a little bit.  And then when I do, I can’t maintain it.  It’ll stay decent looking for a day and then it’s clothes everywhere and empty chip bags and plastic bottles littering my desk.  I can’t stand it but I’m too tired to do anything about it.

It’s unfortunate that I’m not happier with my film than I am.  It’s just that I can see how crappy the animation is.  While I’m coloring I’m going back and looking at my frames and they are so bad.  This is good and bad.  It’s bad because, well, my animation sucks hard.  It’s good because I feel like I’ve grown enough as an animator to know when animation looks bad.  And I feel like I could do better if I had another shot at it.  Unfortunately, I don’t.  This is my last hurrah here.  I also try to think about the fact that I’ve only been animating around a year here.  It’s sad that most of my classes have been stupid foundation courses or something that didn’t have much to do with my major…so I haven’t had as much practice as I should have.  Plus, most of my professors have been totally awful.  I guess when you think about those two things, my skills aren’t too terrible.  I suppose it’ll just take continued practice, which is going to be hard because when I graduate, all those animation materials won’t be available to me anymore and they are much too expensive for me to be able to afford on my own.

I think about that and it makes me sad.  I might not be animating any more after I graduate.

Oh yeah, there’s the possibility of getting a job but I’m almost certain I won’t.  The only chance I have of continuing animation is to do it on my own. I just don’t have the means to do that right now.

But what does that say about me that I’m sad I won’t get to animate anymore?  Does that mean I really do like animation?  I can see myself missing it.  I’m pretty confused.  I thought I hated animation but now I’m not so sure.  Now that I’m doing my own project and expressing myself in my own way through my own animation that I created entirely on my own…it feels good.  And I feel like there’s so much potential there, so many more ideas to explore.  I don’t know.  I guess I’ll just have to see what the future holds for me.  Right now I just have to worry about finishing.

The Flame of Friendship 3: Hot Wax Poetic

Candles don’t disappear.  Wax doesn’t die.  It only changes.  It stands tall in the beginning and merely melts under the heat of a flame.  And after the fire flickers out, it remains, a hardened pool of wax, essentially useless.

When a friendship is formed, so is a candle.  Two people come together like carbon and hydrogen.  Warm hearts work to heat a flame that forges a friendship.  Commonalities are built up like wax and each conversation shapes the relationship like the shaping and smoothing of a candle. And a pair of people prepare paraffin through conversations and laughter and the candle is erected, being built upon same interests and activities.  And once the initial “getting to know you phase” has passed, the relationship intensifies as the candle is lit until the pair is pulled apart once the wicker has been wittled down by the fire and the wax melts away in time.

I don’t even know what a friend is anymore.  Did I ever know?  Probably.  Before life became crappy and complicated.  Before I became crappy and complicated.  I’m pretty sure I’m too selfish and needy to have a friend or be a true friend to anyone else.  It’s almost like, if they can’t do anything for me, I don’t really want to be around them anymore.  Disappoint me and I’m done with you.  And that shouldn’t be the way it is.  Maybe I’m just so worthless on my own, so lacking in self-sufficiency that I depend on others to help me get by and when they can’t, I lose interest.

The truth is, I don’t really care to be friends with any of my friends anymore.  I don’t talk to very many people from high school and I really like it that way.  The few I do talk to I do just to be nice.  Is it not disgusting that the people I once really cared about I would rather never see again?  This came to my attention when I came back from school.  A group I used to be really close with in high school wanted to get together with me to hang out.  We were all really great friends in high school.  I felt connected to those people, close to them because it was us against everyone else.  We were the kids that didn’t automatically gravitate to any one particular clique.  We weren’t unpopular but we certainly didn’t rule the school, either.  And so I was excited to see them but once I actually hung out with them, I realized I am just not the same person I was all those years ago in high school and they still pretty much are.

I’m not saying that I have grown and they haven’t.  I’m not saying that they haven’t made their own strides toward maturity.  I’m just saying that I’ve changed in a way that disconnects me from what used to bring us all together.  And I’m not saying that I’ve changed for the worse or they’ve changed for the better.  We’ve all just changed, period.  And there’s nothing wrong with that but for me, I just don’t feel comfortable with them anymore.  I suppose going to school really did a number on me.  Being away made me miss home but when I came back I realized it wasn’t my home anymore and Georgia certainly isn’t my home.  So, I just float between states and struggle not to scream when I realize I have no home of my own and now, not even a group of friends to turn to.

I guess I’m just simply in a different spot than everyone else.  I’m still a lost soul, still wondering if I even have a soul at all and everyone else seems to have plans.  Everyone knows where they are going and what they are doing once they get there.  And I hate when the phone rings because I know I’ll have to pretend to care about what they have to say and I’ll have to fake laugh and feign interest in the conversation.  And I hate when they ask what I’m doing later on ‘cause I know they’ll want to hang out and I don’t know if I should make something up or just simply tell them I’m not feeling up to it or if I should begrudgingly agree to meet with them.

I don’t know if I believe in lifelong relationships, such as marriage.  I barely believe in long-term relationships of any kind.  I’ve seen friends lose long-term friends before and I’ve even had my experiences with losing some of my very good friends as well.  A friend of over 20 years got married a few months ago and never bothered to tell me.  My mentor/mother figure/friend/former supervisor who always used to encourage my artwork and writing stopped speaking to me after I moved away to college.  And it’s scenarios like the ones my friends were in and the one I found myself in that make me think that friendships just don’t last.  We come together and then go apart.  Some stay longer than others but eventually everyone will leave me.  And just to be fair, sometimes I do the leaving.

And yet I feel these stirrings inside when I’m with these people, these former friends who are still actually my friends but not really.  I realize I don’t want to hurt them.  I realize I don’t want to flat out tell them that I feel we have nothing in common anymore and that I’d rather we just go our separate ways.  And I guess that is because I love these people, I just don’t like them anymore.  I mean, remember, at one time I was very fond of these people, developed real feelings for them.  And that hasn’t gone away.  I still wish the best for everyone.  It’s not that I detest these people or think I am above them.  I am just different and not invested and hollow.  And that love is still there, but the wax that held us so closely together has melted and allowed us to just separate from that closeness.

I suppose the only thing I can do right now is wait until I can graduate from school and get a job so I can run away from my problems like I always do.  It’s easier to be absent when you’re a few states away.

I think it’s pretty funny that paraffin, the wax most commonly used for candles, is derived from a Latin word that means “a lack of affinity.”

And doesn’t that just bring everything full circle.

The Flame of Friendship 2

the flames of friendship that burn the brightest
are often the ones that weigh the lightest
don’t you recall how I said it would end?
before they break, they often bend
a few missed calls to give me a clue
and canceled plans to see it through
all friendships carry along expiration dates
love for another can wither away at alarming rates
now I see with you and me there’s nothing left to burn
I realize I’m abandoned and my stomach does churn
I’ll sit in stillness and watch this flame burn away
and mourn my loss ‘cause you didn’t care to stay
I often wonder if you wonder if I’m all right
or if it’s just out of mind since I’m out of your sight
or just maybe you could care less about my situation
from mentoring my life to utter capitulation
so if you are still in the interest of caring
I’ll let you in on how i’ve been faring
I’ve been doing quite all right, I’ve been making it okay
I did it despite your absence, I made it through each day
and maybe you gave up on my plight a little too soon
‘cause now that I’ve left I’ve started to bloom
and perhaps you left my life just a little to early
for if you were with me now you’d be proud so surely
but this wick has burned so blindly at both ends
there’s no hope for reconciliation, no chance for amends

The Flame of Friendship

Sometimes, friendships are like candles. They burn their brightest when first lit, when the first sparks of a new relationship are ignited. There’s a certain excitement that carries a new relationship forward, that fans the flame, a craving for knowledge about this other person, a craving to find common interests. Certain friends fit certain types of candles. Some friends are more important to us than others, just as some candles are larger than others. Depending on how we nurture these new relationships, we can either develop one of those whopping candles as thick as a tree trunk that’ll burn for years and years, or we can develop a tea candle kind of relationship that burns out before the scent can even hit our noses.

Friendships can last as long as the two people want them to. You can always work up more wax or whittle away at the wick.

Just as candles can be quite soothing, so are the friendships they represent. Candles can bring light to the dark. So can friends. Candles provide warmth. So do friends. Candles can provide a peaceful tranquility on tough days. So do friends. Sometimes, it seems friends and candles are all we need to know to be happy. But, there’s a major difference between friends and candles. You can always count on the candle.

Friends are good to rely on. Friends are good options to place your trust. Friends are free and fun. But, sometimes friendships go sour. The spark is gone and there’s only the faintest of flames that clings to the candle. Sometimes friends lie. But, with candles, there is always one truth that can be acquired, one promise that will always be kept. No matter how good friends make you feel, no matter the duration of the sensation, the candle will always burn out. Consequently, so will friendships.

Even the greatest of relationships end at some point. The sweet smell of candles are always followed by the stink of smoke, the last remnants of a dead candle. The flame has been extinguished with only gray vapor left alive, wiggling and snaking its way through the air until it slowly dissipates, much like the connection between friends it once used to represent, it once used to keep lit. Whether by a falling out or a failure to breathe, relationships burn out, no matter how strong or weak you’ve made them. Sometimes, it’s not your choice in the matter. Sometimes, the other person blows out the blaze, while other times fate fizzles the flame.

Relationships, much like candles, aren’t meant to last forever. And much like candles, they are meant to be enjoyed while lit, enjoyed only for the moment, for all moments end. Knowing it’ll end will make the smells much sweeter, the light much warmer and the comfort much more cozy. Friends will lead you to the light, but in the end, they will always leave you in the dark, always leave you lonely, always leave you up in smoke.