In the End - it's all that matters

The final episode of Lost reminds me of Love, Sacrifice, and Hope for a happy ending.
I need to watch it every so often to remember, that in life, such things exist.

Positivity

Looking back over the last few posts I'm seeing a distortion of sorts. I'm posting in a few places - and this isn't exactly balanced. Recently I've been posting thoughts here, because I'm hoping people who know me no longer come to this site. There's a certain honesty that comes with an anonymous audience (if there even is an audience here), that can't be maintained on twitter or Facebook. Ill try and find something positive to provide balance - soon :)

Fingertips and edges

Why do I love these words so much ? Is it because they resonate - or simply because in seeing them written by another, you know it's ok to think them, and not feel that you're the only one living them :)

I was thinking of renaming this blog "Write only Memory". The opposite of Read only Memory (in computer parlance), write only memory would be be a place to put words or information that could, by definition, never be seen again. By placing words or images here, perhaps the motivations for doing so could be eliminated. For now - let's see how that works :)

More words

“He loved her, he loved her, and until he’d loved her she had never minded being alone.”
- Truman Capote, Summer Crossing

Dumping ground for thoughts that won't be exorcised

Well - this is new

On my mind

Language

Remember when we fell in love?

You were the storm to my sea.

Words are inspiring me daily :)

Impossible emotions

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd; the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. all these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”

—	Fernando Pessoa

The only one that matters.

Too much truth in this

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”

—	Stephen King

Hands

Did you feel that?

Touching someone for the first time, or after a long time, is a unique experience.

Who is to know where a simple handshake, a simple hello will go.

The journey over time and place unfolds with a beautiful clarity that perhaps only someone with a view as vast as the universe can comprehend.
Yet when we part, the invisible thread that binds us together remains, keeps us close when our world becomes a little colder, a little harder.

These bonds exist, and are greater than the sum of us, even if we can only interpret these moments as memories.


So - Do you still feel it?

Of Lions and Giraffes

Hal and Oliver

There is this scene in Beginners...

Hal: Well let's say... let's say since you were little,
and you've always dreamed of someday getting a lion.

And you wait, and you wait, and you wait,
and you wait and the lion doesn't come.

Then along comes a giraffe.
You can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe.

Oliver: I'd wait for the lion.

Hal: That's why I worry about you.


I stopped writing, simply because I did not see the point. There was a circular momentum to all of this that required breaking. Some time away, a new job, a myriad of small permutations of combinations that would hopefully lead somewhere - some place away from the circle.

So here I am, back at the beginning, waiting for my Lion.
Unbending, as always, cocking my middle finger at this world,
Telling it to take its best shot
While I wait for my lion to man the fuck up
And get back into my life.

What life can afford to share

[Note: this post written a couple of days ago but due to internet issues in the Cook Islands I couldn't post it until now]

It's a fundamentally sad fact that we will all be forgotten.

Though we may strive to be good, and achieve much, even the most famous of us will eventually be known only by a few who have touched our lives. When they too are gone, only images or words may take their place, and they are a pale imitation of our true essence.

This tragedy is even more pronounced when the person remembered was afforded such a short life - her chance at life cut so short. How a father could take all that opportunity away in one moment of jealous rage is beyond my comprehension.

I can't begin to fully understand why this death has never left me. I cannot understand why I can still remember someone's image so clearly, as if from an old photograph. Yet, with may years gone now, I realize as a 9 year old boy - I really couldn't have know her at all.

I didn't know what to say or think when I saw her final resting place today. Thirty six years later my 70's color pallet has been bleached pale blue by time, yet the outline of her image is as strong as ever. I have to admit I was looking forward to some degree of closure - It was not to be as I had hoped.

About a year ago a cyclone ravaged the island, and sometime during the night the supported roof to her grave site had fallen over, and the headstone had toppled. Today, with the site obscured by the rusting corrugated iron roof, there were no visible signs that I was even at the right location.


Later I confirmed I was at the right house. I had to admit I was surprised that her brother didn't take the time to clear the damage, especially when some time back, he took the time to adopt a baby girl, taking Janice's name for her own. Perhaps in some way that child afforded him the opportunity to move on. I have to remind myself she really isn't here anymore and I really shouldn't worry.

More importantly I have to realize that this isn't about me.
I realize that life doesn't always allow you the chance to tie up all the loose ends, and get what you want. It's enough that I have finally found her, and that I have the opportunity to say hello again.

Although this part in the journey has been completed, I will never forget her as long as I live. Every time I come to this tropical paradise I will visit for a short while, and in that small way, at least in my memory, Janice Henry will live on.

Is that Tinnitus I hear

There is a silence in my home today.

If I listen very carefully I can almost head the sound of the sea, as you would if you held a seashell or glass to your ear.

My body aches, and my fingers are blistered from racing go-karts and swinging a golf club. My shoulders stiff for the same exact same reasons.

Yet through all this, I am content; for all this pain is a good pain - born of good things and good times.

There is nothing worse than the numb that proceeds a Sunday evening, and bleeds into a week of Mondays.

But none of this today - the quiet and ache sustains me, and all is well.

Updates

I've been a month in my new job, but I keep getting pulled back into my old position, as a part of a "hit squad" looking into various high profile customer issues. It's frustrating, as I'm trying to start a new position knowing nothing - relying on the kindness of the people in my new team, but at the same time it's also nice to be seen as someone who can be brought in at the eleventh hour to pull a rabbit out of the hat.

I was taught by an amazing tech who was so anal retentive that after he fixed a fault he'd always put the old broken part back in to make sure he could fault it again. Although I always hated that last step, I now see it has shaped my technical career to a point I find it incredibly hard to work on issues with people who wont take a logical approach. This week I've been working with two guys that have been all over the place - it hasn't been easy. I have tried really hard, but on at least one occasion I have been rather terse with a manager who I have no time for - He slaps me on the back and laughs while I think of possible shallow grave locations.. not good.

But through this all we have surprisingly made some progress. There is still some work to do, but I guess if you get an infinite number of moneys working at typewriters you'll eventually get a play by Shakespeare. :)

If you want to keep in touch feel free to look at my twitter and tumblr feed. I find the limitation of characters an enjoyable challenge, and as a plus there's less there from me about never being loved, or one day being found dead (6 months late) in a council flat. And that can't be a bad thing :)

I will endevour to post more regularly, but for now I'm retreating a little for the winter - my mind is full of the consequences of recent actions, and I need time to process the outcomes. As always there are good and bad - for now I'd rather focus on the positive (wherever they may be).

Take care out there :)

Some Kind of Wonderful

Another step in the path

I've been immersed in the world of the Foo Fighters.

I've just finished watching the documentary "Back and Forth" which was incredibly interesting.
When it comes to following bands I have never been bleeding edge; I've never been a cool kid. I always thought of Paul as my favourite Beatle, when those who supposedly know better would always pick George then John, then possibly even Ringo beforehand.

Even when it comes to the Foo Fighters, I'll post an acoustic number rather than something indie from the first album that was a defining moment for the band.

Although I admire the musical layering on what otherwise may be seen as a simple song like The Pretender - the song that stays with me long after my stereo is wound back from 11 would be this little number from Skin and Bone.

Mrs Splendid's Return

Chilean dust clouds dispersed with, Dunedin fog thought better, and diverted my flight 500 kilometers away to Christchurch. I smiled inside as the captain gave us the bad news, as nobody complained.

Our flight landed at 9:30pm and we were soon leaving the city of Christchurch for our 5 hour road journey south. The bus was old and very cold, yet people were loathe to fuss. Two hours in, one brave soul asked the bus driver if he could turn on the heat - 20 minutes later we were all stripped down to t-shirts, wondering if it was better to freeze to death or suffer the trials of heat exhaustion; it was one or the other.

I sat by myself at the front, with a clear view of the road ahead. The rhythmic drone and gentle swaying as the bus as it meandered its way haphazardly south, gave me pause to think of my hectic week, and Mrs Splendid's eventual return to this blog.

I find that good friends make the simple effort to be in each others lives. Although they may be busy in their own right, good friends take time to consider those that surround them. They call, text, or email to keep in touch. They worry when you are ill, they listen when the weight of the world presses down just that little bit harder. And you do the same for them.

When you look at your friends, I believe they reflect the nature of your soul. Perhaps in some cases they even serve as an aspiration to a person you may one day become - if you are lucky. I look at my friends and see all the character and support i will ever need in this world. Mrs Splendid is one such friend.

As the bus continued through Timaru and on to Oamaru, I also realised that if i was to be truly happy I couldn't waste my energy on those friends whose recent actions seemed designed instead to push me away.

When a friend makes you doubt yourself, you realise, with some sadness, that something has changed, and for them, you simply no longer matter.

You fight for any friendships you make, as well you should, but in the end the simplest explanations seem the most probable; there was perhaps was nothing much to save in the first place, and for what ever reason - they are gone, and you are sad.

In the end your soul can not grow on scraps of friendships thrown your way. Better to surround yourself with a garden of those that love you, and get to some serious weeding.

We eventually arrived in Dunedin. I directed the driver to the Dunedin train station where families were waiting. We all thanked Derek (the bus driver) for responding to the call and delivering us all safely home at such short notice; such is the way of these Southern folk.

I thought about my long day; from my conversation with a dear friend that morning, through to this last ten minute taxi ride to my parents door. How different it would have been, if I hadn't had all those extra hours to ponder ? Would I have reached the same conclusions as quickly if I wasn't delayed?

Sometimes we travel so fast, to arrive too soon; our thoughts lost in the past. Sometimes we need these diversions life afford us to keep pace with our lives.
To divine a path toward more happiness.