Explanations & Expirations

I'll be the first to say that there isn't always an explanation for things. Simply it's just "because". Like why you picked 2% milk instead of whole milk. Or why you wanted to cook chicken instead of steak for dinner. Why food? Probably because I'm hungry. 

It can be really simple, like why the toolbox on your dad's truck slid into the bed mid-drive (That may have actually happened..), or it can be complicated and impacting. Something that defines you as a person, whether you want it to or not. It can be a place, thing, or person. Especially a person. 

We, as humans, can never know exactly why something happens or how something happens in our lives. Either minuscule or major. Also, as humans, can never get enough of a good thing. It's just in our nature to always want more. To do things that we really know shouldn't happen, but give into our wants and, what we think, needs and deserves. You very well may deserve it. You very well may not deserve it. But like all things (maybe not Twinkies...oh wait..) it has an expiration date. 

Life's sense of humor is sick and twisted. So much that it shouldn't even be considered humor. Just a sick and twisted mind. Writer, even. I like that better. Life is a sick and twisted writer. Sometimes I feel like the anonymous bystander who goes through all this shit and then ends up watching it manifest into something else right in front of their eyes. 

Here's the best way I can really explain it... You just got into a car crash. Boom. Life sucks for a hot second. But don't worry, you recover eventually. Only a month or so into recovery, you decide to take a walk. You know, get things off your mind. And just to be out of your house, right? On that walk you are taking in everything around you. The beauty of it all, because that accident could have very well taken your life. So you are thankful. And then you reach a familiar intersection. Not where the crash happened, but just from living in the same vicinity that you can recognize it. And you see your friend's car driving down the road to your right at this four-way intersection. They are waving at you. And you suddenly are compelled to look to your left to see another car speeding towards your friend's car. They are oblivious, your friend. And you try to speak, yell, do the chicken dance to get your friend's attention but your are frozen. Feet firmly glued to the earth. Forced to watch a car crash in slow motion, knowing it's going to happen, but your friend is still so unresponsive. 

And you remember, this has happened to you. You remember how oblivious you were and at the same time so alert just as it was happening, changing your life, frightening you. Making you something different. They are moving in slow motion now, eventually the two cars will hit. Either you warn them, or you watch. Sometimes you can only watch, not on purpose or by choice, but by some law of life. 

That's a pretty twisted way of explaining it. But I think its some weird form of transferable karma. There's no explanation as to why bad things happen to good people, or vise versa. 

Good things can happen to good people, though. Just, sometimes it feels like they aren't so good when they eventually do expire.

That's all for now, thanks.

High Drive

It's incredible to think how much has happened in the last couple weeks, and how much is going to happen in the weeks to come. Sometimes, actually more than not, I find myself not being in touch with life and time. I let my mind run faster than I can possibly keep up with. 

It's normal, right?

Think about it. How fast do we live our lives? What "speed" do you have to be in to be able to function? How many cups of coffee do you have to drink to wake up? Why do you need that new car that can go up to 180 mph (but still very Eco-friendly)? That cell phone of yours in your hand or pocket, or laptop sitting at your desk or on your lap? How fast can it go? Is it on that new "faster-and-better" service that can bring up a page in under .2 seconds? Or has it's own secretary at the command of your voice? 

I'm just as guilty, really. My days are permanently in high drive, but I somehow find time to try and slow down when I can. I find time for the people I know, for the friends I've been close with, and the ones I've loved. I get caught up in the speed. My emotions are the first to feel it and fall to it. To crumble under the speed and then thinking clearly is completely thrown out the window. And then I'm thrown back down to reality where things have taken a turn for the worse.

But we can be repaired.

Take time to think, to be thankful for the things you have and the things that you were given, for the people you've known and for the ones you have loved or still love. On the subway or the bus, before work in the morning while you're drinking that fifth cup of coffee before braving the traffic, or after work or school. Don't become so wrapped up and cocooned in the speed of things where you can't see what could be right in front of you the entire time. 

You'll never know what will turn up if you live without your finger glued to the fast-forward button. 

Thanks for listening

The End

There comes a point and time in everyone's life that redefines who a person becomes. Milestones, markers, whatever you want to call it, they are all the same for the most part. These happenings can be conversations, catching the wrong train to work, missing your bus, running out of gas on the highway and flagging down someone for a lift. These markers can be planned, or unexpected. A baby, weddings, hell even one night stands (although I don't condone it). These markers can be people you meet, family, friends, unexpected best friends, lovers. The list is endless. But, within each and every distinctly different marker comes a time frame like I had mentioned earlier.

There are the beginnings. A short term job at Starbucks, maybe a temporary teaching job. Maybe you're working on a show or something. However it starts, it will be unexpected I promise you. And it will either fall two ways; the happiest seconds/minutes/hours/days/weeks/months (you get the point) of your life, or either the worst part. It's a rush of blood to the head. Life is perfect, purposeful, and desirable. There's no other place you'd rather be. Then there is a point and time that it plateaus. 

I'd like to call that the body (for lack of a better word). The emotional high that lasts for however long it was planned to last. You may have control over it, you very may well have no control over it. Personally, I feel like most of the time you cannot control how long something lasts even though you'll want it to last or either end just as quickly as it started. Then comes the kick in the balls. The heart wrenching drop from the plateau. The ending.

Like I said, most times you have no control over it. However much you really want it to last, it does not matter. It hurts, believe me, it is the worst feeling in the world. You feel like you're dying or want to die. Like you're between a rock and a hard place, the air being snatched away from you as you get crushed. It isn't easy. And you may scar, but it's always for the better. It happened for a reason. Things always happen for a reason. You don't miss a train for nothing. You don't get fired for nothing. You don't get your heartbroken for nothing. God, or fate, or whatever you may believe in has something planned for you. Something better, even if you think what you have is as good as it's going to get. The end isn't really the end then, is it? 

I like to think of myself as a young person who has an old heart and old soul. I still learn everyday and experience new things everyday, but I like to think that I know what I want. I loved him. And I still do. But there's closure that comes in knowing that you need to bring it to the surface, talk about it, and really stop lying to yourself. Because in the end, if it isn't supposed to be then it won't be. No matter how much you want it to. Which sounds pessimistic but it is not supposed to be I promise you. It's a way of being able to move on and not live for something that won't be. Wasting away in grief and sadness because you may very well miss a chance you never knew was coming. Don't miss that chance.

A very special person to me told me that "Dreaming is never a bad thing. You just have to dream with one foot on the ground". And I feel like everyone should know that. Because, in the end, what will happen, will happen. Tears will happen, life will happen, love will happen. But you can't be hard or negative. I'm not saying to throw on a smile and fake happiness, because that will destroy you. If we weren't meant to feel sadness or grief, or pain, why would we know it? It's okay to cry. Just know when to let go of things you can't control. The pain and sadness will go away, I promise you.

Thanks for listening

The Softest Armor

Armor was created to protect the most important parts of a person's body during battle. Even myself, when I think of armor, I think of the shiny suits that knights used to wear back in medieval times, fighting with swords trying to guard their kingdom. Even thinking about that, the knights fighting to protect their kingdom, even they were the kingdom's "armor". 

Armor today is quite different, bullet proof vests made from Kevlar to protect, again, the most important parts of the fighter's body. There are armored vehicles, armored buildings, armored phones even. Take it even closer to home for a moment.

What about the armor of the every day person's body? There's your skin right at the surface. Muscle tissue below that protects your bones. Your rib cage protects the lungs and heart. Your heart. Most important thing in your body, perhaps, holds the softest armor of all.

The physical part of your heart really isn't the softest, but the mental part that guards your heart is the softest. Every day I see or hear at least twelve different stories about love on Facebook or Twitter. People falling in love, people becoming engaged, marrying, new parents. There's also the loss, heartbreak, strain, and the loneliness. You may know someone who is going through a blow to that soft armor. Maybe it's even you who is. 

If you know one of those people, tell them they aren't alone. There is hurt everywhere in this world, but just as much as there is hurt, there is happiness. It's easy to thrive in the bad, it really is, but you need to be there for them. And if you're one of those people, know it gets better. Maybe not right away but it will someday. You'll get your chance to feel again, to bring down the walls you maybe put back up to protect yourself. It's never too late to soften your heart, but don't be afraid to guard it. Be afraid to lose that feeling. Make it a priority to never lose that part of yourself no matter how much it hurts. And surround yourself in things you love; sing till you can't anymore, dance till you fall, laugh till it hurts, fill up the tank and go as far as you can on one tank of gas. 

If there's one thing I want you to take away from this, it's to not give up on what seems impossible. Love is just as unpredictable as the future. Do not be afraid to wear the softest armor. Ever.

"I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone" - Javan

Strength.

What defines strength, really? Is it the amount of weight you can bench press? Is it how long you can run a marathon before stopping to break? How much food you can eat, how much alcohol you can drink? Maybe it's how many days you can go without any sleep? 

There are people in this world that go through so much and come out worse for wear, but so much stronger. Like those people affected by Sandy. How much stronger do you think they'll be once  their lives gain back some sort of normalcy?

Or even the ones closer to home; loss of a friend or family member? My next door neighbor recently lost his sister at 98 years old. They lived together in the same house all of their lives. Both watched the world transform around them, lost their friends, lost their family, but they got through it together as a family. How do you even begin to measure that kind of strength?

What about love? Well, what about it? How many people do you meet in your life? How many of them have you dated? Or loved? Or married? Maybe you divorced a few? You can define strength in love by many things really. By how many gifts exchanged, how many texts sent or phone calls dialed. You can define strength in love by the connection you hold between a person. By how many late nights spent. By each passing day you spend with that person. You can define strength in love by the heartbreaks and hardships. 

Strength can be defined in so many ways, it nearly seems endless. But, I guess, no matter what happens in life, you will always be strong no matter how hard it can get. No matter how unfair things may feel at that time. Regardless if you can't even bench press ten pounds, how long you can run a marathon, how much food you can hold down, how many times life shakes you down to the core, or how many times you've given your heart out/given a heart to and lasted or either didn't. Strength is always down there somewhere. You will always be able to find it no matter how clouded your mind can get or how much your heart may hurt. 

Hold onto that strength and never let go. Never let go of what you're really sure of.

That's all for now, thanks for listening.

Six Months Absent

Six months ago I was graduated from the biggest high of my life so far; high school. Six months ago I was attending graduation parties and occasionally seeing my friends from high school. We were living up our senior summer. Movie nights till who knows when, a lot of food, and promises. We drove around with the windows down on summer day and night drives. There were a few intense rounds of Disney Scene It and lots of servings of killer mac n’ cheese…

Six months ago I got a job out at the airport. I worked at least 40 hours a week with people I enjoyed seeing almost every day at a newly opened store. I faced my fears of public transportation and learned the rhythm and language of it. Six months ago I picked up my life and moved into a new home near the city. I fell into routine and forgot about time. Time meant nothing to me then. I had so much of it to waste…

I spent most of my time sleeping and working once the parties ended. One of those many promises I made in June I broke. I started to become a stranger. Not on purpose, of course. Stranger by accident. There were a few visits along the way in those short summer days, but they never felt long enough. There were a few birthday surprises to a few people too (okay, maybe just one person)…

A hop, skip, jump and a blink later and orientation started for college. The days slowed down significantly. My friends started to leave for college also. I hated those few weeks. I felt alone. Change was really unwelcome in my life. Making new friends felt impossible, but it just needed time. I have a few at school, maybe like three or four. But most are acquaintances. The first semester is almost done…

I auditioned into a musical and made it! Finally, something familiar. It was definitely different than theater in high school, but I loved it just the same. I made friends, two in particular that I don’t know how I was living without before. And now it’s only two weeks away until the show closes…

And now I’m here, six months later reminding myself of what happened and how much I've changed in so little time. How my life went from so much routine to defying every line I try to draw. Thinking about it now, it felt like these last six months I took an absence. Absence of mind, absence of time, and absence of life. I remember a few things, but just when I do, I think of all that’s coming up in just a few short days. The closings and the openings. I think of the people I miss. The same people who are making new friends and living their own lives. I think of the promises I made, and the ones I broke. Fear goes along with those thoughts, but also thankfulness. Thankfulness for having the opportunity to do so much, know so many people, become affected by those people and affect so many other people in the process.

Opening night tonight, college auditions in only two days, and first semester ending in less than a month, a lot is going to change again. I wonder what kind of absence I’ll take again, if any. Or if I can mend the few that kind of slipped along the way.

This post isn’t really a question or much to ponder on for the readers, just my mindset at the moment… hmm. I guess I’ll figure out what’ll happen soon, right? 

Semi-Habitual Strangers

I complain a lot about how big of a pain in the ass riding public transportation is. Anyone who follows me on Twitter or if you're friends with me on Facebook will know how much I loathe Port Authority. 

People who don't ride public transportation really don't understand or even try to understand the woes of it. I can go on for hours about how much it sucks. From the sad attempt of having regularity, to spending every single day on a mini itinerary, the list goes on forever and ever and ever and...well, you get the point.

So wasting all of this time waiting on the bus/T (that's the train for those uneducated on public transportation lingo), actually on the bus/T, in between connecting routes, my commute to college, or just walking around downtown, I find stuff to occupy myself with to prevent complete insanity. 

Other than listening to my iPod or reading a book, I find people watching to work wonders! 

For school I catch the 36 bus into town (because I really don't like trotting up a shit ton hills at 7 in the morning to catch the T. My body just can't handle it). By the time the 36 gets to my stop it's packed with people on their way to their jobs in the city, so I try and get a seat or just stand near the front door or the door closer to the middle of the bus. If I'm standing in the front of the bus, I can't really people watch. How obvious can it be when you're standing in front of everyone and completely turned around, just staring behind semi-tinted sunglasses. But when I do stand farther back or sit in a seat I can people watch allllllll I like (Wow that sounds really creepy). I could write an entire blog post about the people on the 36 bus in the morning, but I'll just give you guys a taste. 

There's the old man who usually sits in between two middle aged women in the seats that face inwards. I'm usually listening to my iPod on the bus, so I assume what they're talking. I stopped listening for a moment and it was politics this time, so I just hit play buttom for my complete apathy of listening to politics. This old man isn't creepy like my marketing teacher, at least from what I hear, but he always carries candy with him in a Shop n' Save bag. Off brand candy too, and hands them out to the ladies of bus 36. Sometimes he hands out little baggies with stuff that looks like drugs. Let's just assume it's herbal tea mix and not roofies or some other kind of crazy drug. I label him as the "old-man-who-is-past-his-prime-but-still-thinks-he-has-it-with-the-potential-to-be-that-stereotypical-creepo". But I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and just say he's a nice old man. 

Then there's the middle-aged woman who always has her blonde hair wrapped around in a hot mess of a, yet stylistic, bun thing kept together with twelve gallons of hairspray and an outdated hair clip. She keeps to herself, normally, or sometimes takes part in the conversation between the old man and the other women. Her white glasses are kind of groovy though, except they remind me of the kind Johnny Depp wears in Charlie in the Chocolate Factory, except thinner on the sides. The lenses are big and round and completely black. Surprise she can even see anything from behind those suckers. And her posture is tired and worn out almost. Like she partied hard last night and has the BIGGEST hangover ever trying to hide it behind a cup or two of black coffee and big tinted sunglasses. 

So there's those two people on the 36 bus, then there's the common homeless people wondering around Market Square. Kind of sad really, and I can't help to think how they got so homeless and down-in-the-dumps. Then I think to a few COPS episodes and quickly move on with my morning commute into Starbucks.

Jeez, you wouldn't even believe how pushy and rude corporate Pittsburgh can be in the morning, just waiting for their coffee impatiently. Sometimes (rarely anymore) I'm nice and let them go in front of me since I have time to waste before class. But I stopped that when someone thought that they could just cut in front because they were late for work. Yeah right. It payed off though! Got a free cup o' coffee. That's five or six dollars I'm NOT wasting every day for coffee from Starbucks. Luckily, for me and my wallet's sake, I got tired of their Pumpkin Spice Lattes. The manager remembers me though, always like "Hey! You're Vaughn, right?" I would normally be happy at the fact that she remembers me from every other time Starbucks thoroughly rapes my wallet, except that she remembers my name because of her drug-abusing cousin once removed that died was named Vaughn as well. How do you even reply to that? "Oh, thanks, you're so sweet." 

At the bus stop for the G2 or 28X, there's always the common public transportation user/tired civilian wanting to sit down, stretch their legs as far as they can across the sidewalk and get in peoples way or ask for bus change or change for, possibly, the only working payphone left in the world at that stop. Some don't look homeless, just comfortable, casual, or actually in business attire. But I don't care how you're dressed, I can't help thinking you are homeless sitting on the ground, sprawled out with a cigarette dangling out the corner of your mouth. Those people change every day, but it's a common acknowledgement I seem to find.

Writing this all out kinda shows me some regularity in my everyday life, I guess, if you stretch the definition of "regularity" out a bit...and throw pepper or something in my face. Oddly enough, I find some comfort in seeing the old man talk and give out candy on the bus to the ladies, the middle aged women with the killer hangover, the homeless people (okay, not so much the homeless), and the manager at Starbucks who remembers me from her dead drug dealing once removed cousin. Beggars can't be choosers. Except I didn't beg for anything, so, I don't know what you would really call it.