Sometimes I think I'm emotionally unstable, other times I feel like I'm moody, but most of the time I'm just over analyzing things. I'm having one of those times where I feel like everyone I hold dear to me is looking at me differently. I haven't changed anything about myself or even done anything recently that I'm aware of. Still, my perception of peoples' attitudes towards me is shifting into a negative light.
Most weeks I am fully aware of where I stand with people, however these last two weeks have been different. I feel like my best friends and family members are losing the joy they once found in my company. I'm honestly hoping this is my mind playing tricks on me because if it isn't, I'll need to do some personal reassessment. Simply put, I just got this borderline paranoid feeling that people are starting to hate me.
I guess there has been a slight change in my mood. Something I can't put my finger on has been bothering me and has been making me a bit more serious and often times, for the lack of a better word, a pansy with my friends. I see myself coming out of the slump, riding this upswing is all I can really do. Hopefully with the New Year I'll come across some great things that'll really put me back where I was.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Something that's recently struck me...
A girl when I dated her and a woman when I hated her; now she's a soul I exalt. This statement summarizes my feelings towards a person to whom I shall refer to as Tina.
I was merely thirteen when I met her and even then she disabled me. She sliced into my psyche within moments of meeting her and each time we've seen each other again she's managed to repeat such a feat.
Tina is the kind of person whose philosophy on life is incongruent to how they realistically carry their own out. Still, her lifestyle is poetic; though she is a free-spirited beacon of light in the lives of others, the people in which she surrounds herself with are tragic leeches. To anyone with happiness or stability, she is a beautiful disaster.
Because I met her and fell for her at such a young age her impact resounds throughout my life til this day. What is even worse? She's become even better since we had first met, making each encounter harder and harder to top with another woman.
She makes me unstable, every time we've met I've made a fool of myself. Yet she understands her effect on me and she's never looked at me differently.
I broke her heart in the past when we were young. It was hard to fathom and handle such a personality so young. She moved on and took to another man who I not only hate out of eternal jealousy but I cannot forgive for how he treats her.
She was once a girl full of hope and passion; because of people like her significant other, she has given up on such things.
I admire her, revere her, adore her and will always care for and love her. I once thought it was a childish obsession but after much introspection I can honestly say she is the greatest woman I've ever shared time with.
Just when I wrote of loneliness, I re-encounter such a person and revisit this loneliness with thrice the sensitivity. Not only do I want a woman, I want someone who can emulate the beauty which Tina radiates inwardly and outwardly.
I was merely thirteen when I met her and even then she disabled me. She sliced into my psyche within moments of meeting her and each time we've seen each other again she's managed to repeat such a feat.
Tina is the kind of person whose philosophy on life is incongruent to how they realistically carry their own out. Still, her lifestyle is poetic; though she is a free-spirited beacon of light in the lives of others, the people in which she surrounds herself with are tragic leeches. To anyone with happiness or stability, she is a beautiful disaster.
Because I met her and fell for her at such a young age her impact resounds throughout my life til this day. What is even worse? She's become even better since we had first met, making each encounter harder and harder to top with another woman.
She makes me unstable, every time we've met I've made a fool of myself. Yet she understands her effect on me and she's never looked at me differently.
I broke her heart in the past when we were young. It was hard to fathom and handle such a personality so young. She moved on and took to another man who I not only hate out of eternal jealousy but I cannot forgive for how he treats her.
She was once a girl full of hope and passion; because of people like her significant other, she has given up on such things.
I admire her, revere her, adore her and will always care for and love her. I once thought it was a childish obsession but after much introspection I can honestly say she is the greatest woman I've ever shared time with.
Just when I wrote of loneliness, I re-encounter such a person and revisit this loneliness with thrice the sensitivity. Not only do I want a woman, I want someone who can emulate the beauty which Tina radiates inwardly and outwardly.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Women, am I right?
The beauty of this blog is in its organic content. I can look at what I've written and see how much I've changed in retrospect. Even if the posts were made only a few months ago, my perception of things has drastically changed; I've done a lot of thinking, mending, breaking and growing. What I've written on this blog, though immortalized on the internet, is by no means engraved in my heart. This has been a helpful outlet, letting me sort out thoughts and receive feedback from people who otherwise wouldn't have a clue as to who I am.
At first, I was surprised at the amount of people who liked this blog moreso than my comedy writing, but now I thoroughly understand why. In fact, I'm putting a rest to inkubateblog because it's done nothing but lower the credibility of this blog and preemptively release jokes before going through the proper filtration process. Now without further adieu, my Acoustic Thought.
I essentially spent the better part of my early childhood hanging out in my mother's hair salon, surrounded by gorgeous women smothering me in unconditional affection. As they conversed over my head about relationships, life, wants, dreams, and other things of the sort I soaked it up like a sponge. I listened to everything. Because of this I've always held women in the highest regard, revered them for their complexity and have shared a certain empathetic bond with them. I have achieved an understanding for women, though not all-encompassing, which has always provided a good base for communication.
However as of late, this connection to women has been fading.
Much like a carpet too big for the room it is being put in, my life is having troubles fitting into the space given. Just when I've fitted three corners of my life into the room, the final corner kicks up against the wall. In this case, I've gotten financial stability, my ambitions are on track and I like to believe that family and friend relations are fantastic as well.
But like anyone else, I'm one lonely bastard. I crave the company of a woman in my life; such an unsatiable hunger has yet to be stymied by anything or anyone. And the lonlier I get, the worse I get at handling myself around women. I fumble with the preliminary cat and mouse banter, overcompliment women and reflect the low self-esteem that only grows with each failed chase.
I'm becoming flustered, worried that I might lose the most prime years of my life to meet women to the comfort and stability of my current situation. When I was a mess, to say the least, I had no problems meeting women, courting women and even sharing meaningful connections with them.
Is this some sort of mental block I've put up? Or is this nature telling me to sacrifice one thing for another? Perhaps I'm just not opening my eyes enough to see the answer right before me. Regardless of what the problems or the solutions are the fact remains: I'm one lonely bastard.
At first, I was surprised at the amount of people who liked this blog moreso than my comedy writing, but now I thoroughly understand why. In fact, I'm putting a rest to inkubateblog because it's done nothing but lower the credibility of this blog and preemptively release jokes before going through the proper filtration process. Now without further adieu, my Acoustic Thought.
I essentially spent the better part of my early childhood hanging out in my mother's hair salon, surrounded by gorgeous women smothering me in unconditional affection. As they conversed over my head about relationships, life, wants, dreams, and other things of the sort I soaked it up like a sponge. I listened to everything. Because of this I've always held women in the highest regard, revered them for their complexity and have shared a certain empathetic bond with them. I have achieved an understanding for women, though not all-encompassing, which has always provided a good base for communication.
However as of late, this connection to women has been fading.
Much like a carpet too big for the room it is being put in, my life is having troubles fitting into the space given. Just when I've fitted three corners of my life into the room, the final corner kicks up against the wall. In this case, I've gotten financial stability, my ambitions are on track and I like to believe that family and friend relations are fantastic as well.
But like anyone else, I'm one lonely bastard. I crave the company of a woman in my life; such an unsatiable hunger has yet to be stymied by anything or anyone. And the lonlier I get, the worse I get at handling myself around women. I fumble with the preliminary cat and mouse banter, overcompliment women and reflect the low self-esteem that only grows with each failed chase.
I'm becoming flustered, worried that I might lose the most prime years of my life to meet women to the comfort and stability of my current situation. When I was a mess, to say the least, I had no problems meeting women, courting women and even sharing meaningful connections with them.
Is this some sort of mental block I've put up? Or is this nature telling me to sacrifice one thing for another? Perhaps I'm just not opening my eyes enough to see the answer right before me. Regardless of what the problems or the solutions are the fact remains: I'm one lonely bastard.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Ska/Reggae Jam #2
Wish I had a good girl,
but a bad girl got my heart.
Shoulda loved a good girl,
but the bad got me from the start.
Good girls can't argue,
make me crazy or start a fight.
She ain't good for writin' a song,
and you know she can't screw me right.
Good girl,
when yah gunna go on home.
Good girl,
y'know I'd rather be alone.
'Til you start slappin' around,
put up yo' fists
and strike me down,
bad girl's gunna have my heart
like she done had right here from the start.
I needa bad girl.
Don'tcha cry for me good girl,
my love was always fake.
I'm a mean old man y'see,
and my tricks only cause heartache.
Bad girls got thick skin,
and they know how throw it back.
Not to mention the bad girls...
Well they're damn good in the sack.
Good girl,
when yah gunna go on home.
Good girl,
y'know I'd rather be alone.
'Til you start slappin' around,
put up yo' fists
and strike me down,
bad girl's gunna have my heart
like she done had right here from the start.
I needa bad girl.
You might think I'm horny,
maybe lost my sight.
But a girl who can hate me good,
you know she can love right.
but a bad girl got my heart.
Shoulda loved a good girl,
but the bad got me from the start.
Good girls can't argue,
make me crazy or start a fight.
She ain't good for writin' a song,
and you know she can't screw me right.
Good girl,
when yah gunna go on home.
Good girl,
y'know I'd rather be alone.
'Til you start slappin' around,
put up yo' fists
and strike me down,
bad girl's gunna have my heart
like she done had right here from the start.
I needa bad girl.
Don'tcha cry for me good girl,
my love was always fake.
I'm a mean old man y'see,
and my tricks only cause heartache.
Bad girls got thick skin,
and they know how throw it back.
Not to mention the bad girls...
Well they're damn good in the sack.
Good girl,
when yah gunna go on home.
Good girl,
y'know I'd rather be alone.
'Til you start slappin' around,
put up yo' fists
and strike me down,
bad girl's gunna have my heart
like she done had right here from the start.
I needa bad girl.
You might think I'm horny,
maybe lost my sight.
But a girl who can hate me good,
you know she can love right.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Bus'ness
I had a tune in my head I just kinda made up around the office, wrote these lyrics to it. It's pretty much a simple, light-hearted commentary on the workplace.
You get a nack...
for stabbin' back.
Steppin' on toes
and gettin' off track.
'Cause in the real world,
things get whack.
Puttin' all your money
in a paper sack.
But I know,
it's just bus'ness.
Workin' every day
at your rot-heart fitness.
If I gotta trample you
for a fifth floor view,
God knows I will
'cause you will too.
It's just bus'ness.
Paranoid,
for no damn reason.
Bein' good is out,
and mean's in season.
When I clock in,
consider it treason.
I pow-zam-zoom like
Jackie Gleason.
'Cause you know,
it's just bus'ness.
We ain't friends,
you're just a witness.
To when I trample you,
for a fifth floor view
take your raise,
and I say adieu.
It's just bus'ness.
You get a nack...
for stabbin' back.
Steppin' on toes
and gettin' off track.
'Cause in the real world,
things get whack.
Puttin' all your money
in a paper sack.
But I know,
it's just bus'ness.
Workin' every day
at your rot-heart fitness.
If I gotta trample you
for a fifth floor view,
God knows I will
'cause you will too.
It's just bus'ness.
Paranoid,
for no damn reason.
Bein' good is out,
and mean's in season.
When I clock in,
consider it treason.
I pow-zam-zoom like
Jackie Gleason.
'Cause you know,
it's just bus'ness.
We ain't friends,
you're just a witness.
To when I trample you,
for a fifth floor view
take your raise,
and I say adieu.
It's just bus'ness.
Monday, November 1, 2010
A Rotten Apple
It's hard to imagine the greatest place in the world can double as the most unforgiving. I've been walking her streets for months now, soaking in her mood and her poetry. Yet I can't help but find myself imagining her mood, her poetry and her song are in fact her tears; I am merely soaking in those tears.
I've been glorifying my life in the city to all of my acquaintances whether it be the rugged working man's angle or the struggling comedian's angle. Quite honestly, I'm just the subject of a burlesque story.
I live day-to-day, dollar-to-dollar no different from my compatriots of this concrete mess. The solemn expressions drown out any gleam of hope that we wish to keep when we venture into a life here.
No, it's not the crime, terrorism, nor the expense of living. It's simply a mass realization that our dreams are steadily floating past the pinnacle of the skyscrapers. This city is blanketed in sadness; a statement none of us want to believe because such a belief is cancerous.
Tourists aren't the people of New York City, they are moving objects we people who live in denial walk around. Their fantastic smiles remind us not of ourselves when we first laid eyes on the architectual grandeur, why?
These people aren't in New York City, no. These people are swimming through a dream in which our sorry, faceless hinds have created and maintained. And we merely look past them like the H&M billboard we see every day on the commute in.
How easy it is release inspiration in this city and equally hard it is to unroot from her soil and harness such inspiration realistically. Like anywhere else in the world, there is no success without sacrifice and New York is known for her expensive taste. You'll live soulless, limbless, heartless, even without companions if you want to taste her sweet, inspiring nectar again.
And then the weekend comes for some of us. With the flowing alcohol comes a flood of dreams in which we can drown ourselves. I take back to the stage and live my dream Saturday on Friday's pay.
How much I love this city and how much it hates all of us, I will never truly understand.
I've been glorifying my life in the city to all of my acquaintances whether it be the rugged working man's angle or the struggling comedian's angle. Quite honestly, I'm just the subject of a burlesque story.
I live day-to-day, dollar-to-dollar no different from my compatriots of this concrete mess. The solemn expressions drown out any gleam of hope that we wish to keep when we venture into a life here.
No, it's not the crime, terrorism, nor the expense of living. It's simply a mass realization that our dreams are steadily floating past the pinnacle of the skyscrapers. This city is blanketed in sadness; a statement none of us want to believe because such a belief is cancerous.
Tourists aren't the people of New York City, they are moving objects we people who live in denial walk around. Their fantastic smiles remind us not of ourselves when we first laid eyes on the architectual grandeur, why?
These people aren't in New York City, no. These people are swimming through a dream in which our sorry, faceless hinds have created and maintained. And we merely look past them like the H&M billboard we see every day on the commute in.
How easy it is release inspiration in this city and equally hard it is to unroot from her soil and harness such inspiration realistically. Like anywhere else in the world, there is no success without sacrifice and New York is known for her expensive taste. You'll live soulless, limbless, heartless, even without companions if you want to taste her sweet, inspiring nectar again.
And then the weekend comes for some of us. With the flowing alcohol comes a flood of dreams in which we can drown ourselves. I take back to the stage and live my dream Saturday on Friday's pay.
How much I love this city and how much it hates all of us, I will never truly understand.
Monday, July 12, 2010
A Blue Life
What is better than a blue life?
What trumps the endless flow?
Governed only by the wind,
watched only by the sky.
I envy a life of blue,
I envy from my concrete.
I'm fettered to the ground,
bound by road and property.
You cannot own the blue life,
no, a blue life is free of possession.
Not even my dreams can grasp it.
What trumps the endless flow?
Governed only by the wind,
watched only by the sky.
I envy a life of blue,
I envy from my concrete.
I'm fettered to the ground,
bound by road and property.
You cannot own the blue life,
no, a blue life is free of possession.
Not even my dreams can grasp it.
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