Slow to Process

They say that when you’re isolated, you’re forced to face your innermost demons. You’re forced to look at what made you who you are, and what conflicts have shaped you into who you are today, and what things were torn from you because of those demons. I am writing this, and the first step to any type of improvement or recovery is admission. It’ll be one of my bigger admissions that I’ve made about my life, alongside my “coming out” about my religious preferences several years ago. I’m not intent on advertising this publicly, but just to those who frequent my site from time to time so they know.

I am an addict. Read more

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The Change

I am writing this as my flight goes over the snow-topped San Francisco Peaks that belong to Flagstaff. But my writing was delayed because I just passed over the tri-city area, and it took me a minute to realize that I was looking at the majority of my life from miles up in the sky, all summarized in a small area. Read more

Patience and Tangents

It’s a test, I am sure. Life is trying that press on me again, where it is trying my patience before I really move forward with the next bit of my life. It just hits in the small, right ways that it knows to, and I am increasingly frustrated with it. Read more

Some more Arstidir for those who may not have heard them

Good evening music.

 

I really haven’t felt this much fury towards a group before.. and then the thoughts spiraled

I was at the gym tonight, and while I was doing my warm up and stretches, I looked up to one of the TVs to see coverage about ISIL/ISIS. Then, I started thinking about the things I have seen on Reddit about their victims, and who they’re killing, and the people they’ve paraded before putting into mass graves…

My blood started to boil. But it wasn’t just about that. I was looking at a part of the human race that has devolved into this kind of senseless intent. It feels like they are hiding behind the mask of Islam– they’re not fighting for it, they’re using it as an excuse to massacre people.

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Protected: Lessons Learned, A Little Late

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When You Think You’ve Found The Next Home

So, I am writing this from the cruising altitude for a Boeing 737-800 on my five hour flight to Boston. I managed to get the emergency exit aisle with only one other person for this five-hour flight, and I have plenty of room– probably the most I have ever had outside of first class. I have music in my ears, and I am well rested and ready to tackle the next work project.

But, I left Seattle. And I feel a bit of myself staying behind each time. Read more

Driving Through The Mist

Sorry Phoenix, Seattle has won my heart out. Read more

The Small Gift

So, I’m running around in California right now, near San Jose. I decided after work today that I was gonna go to Hooters. I had thought on it a bit, and thought, Fuck it. Why not? Cute girls, and the food is passable and much cheaper than anything around me.So I went. I had stopped going there because one particular incident just made me disgusted with the people that typically attend, but I threw it out the window a bit ago, because it stirred some memories and emotions that helped me heal some.

Nothing eventful happened. I had a ten-piece of wings, a salad and a piece of pie. I chatted with the girl waiting on me about travel and what the rush hour was like around here, so I could gauge when to head back to my hotel. I got my check, and I was placing my card on it so it could be cashed out.

Not long after, I saw this guy walk in. He was Hispanic, wearing a “Patriot” shirt that he was occasionally checking on to make sure was clean, some cargo shorts and sandals. Older guy, thinning hair on top, and he was occasionally talking to himself and looking at different people in the restaurant with bewildered eyes. The waitress came up to him, and I could tell that she was slightly uncomfortable, albeit kind and polite. No doubt it wasn’t her first time dealing with someone who was off, but the results may have been radically different last time.

She got his order, and she returned briefly with a key lime pie. And he began eating it, and was still occasionally talking to himself and looking around while taking a few bits of his pie at a time. I figured he was savoring it.

But his eyes made me wonder what had happened. Was it something he had seen? A bad drug trip? My mind began to wonder, and I started placing myself in his shoes, and began to wonder how it must be for him day in and day out. Read more

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