breathing...

I haven't felt this light in a long time, and I don't mean my weight, I'm as fat as ever! Things aren't technically different, I'm not really any closer to accomplishing anything than I was before. But. But it's different still, even if everything may look the same. Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm different. But I haven't felt this relaxed, this light, this able to breathe in a long time.

Life is hard work. It just is. Nothing good comes easy and nothing worth having is free. I get those things better than I used to. I believe them now anyways, and so, now that I can breathe, I can work. I can do what I need to do, or dare I say want to do, to make my life what I want it to be. It feels good.

tj

a leap...

Moved to Portland a while back now, but just tonight took probably the biggest step. You all know who I mean when I say I've attached myself to someone back home that for better or worse I didn't let go of for a long time, even out here.

I did tonight.

It's all on me now. Time to see what I'm made of.

Wish me luck.

tj

searching...

For something. For answers I suppose, but that still seems more abstract. For questions, I think,s is where it starts, at least for me. I am searching for the right questions. I can move all over the world, and live wherever I want, but unless I ask the right questions I'll get the same wrong answers.

When I left home, I think part of me envisioned the move, the drive, the whole thing as an epiphany waiting to happen. I actually expected the relocation to refresh me, and just somehow make things better. What I've come to learn however, is that it wasn't the location that needed to change, it was me.

It's only been two months since I've been gone, and I know that's a short time to expect miracles, but I say when your right your right, and there's no point delaying admitting it. Don't get me wrong, I like it here, a lot. I enjoy the lifestyle, being active, going out and doing things. I've loved spending more time reading and biking, talking and hiking. I've enjoyed learning new things, and I still look to the drive here as one of the best times of my life.

The point of that last paragraph though is that the things I'm doing, the things I like here, have nothing to do with being here. Yes, being around new people and new places kick-started my own new perspective on myself, but none of the things I've enjoyed the most are limited to here. I can have them anywhere. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I can enjoy those same things, because they're me, they're a part of who I am, or hope to be.

So I guess it has helped to move, in that I could get a new perspective. But when I left I was asking myself how to look at the world differently. How do I view this life and see it better, or more clearly? The reality is though, I simply needed a new perspective on myself. How do I view myself better, and more clearly? How do I make myself what, and who I want to be. It isn't where I am that counts, it's who, and it's how.

With that idea in mind, I can start asking the right questions now at last. What do I want? What will I do with this gift God gave me? As far as I can tell, this is my one and only chance at this, and there's no point not taking advantage of it. I need to ask myself the questions, and then find what, and who, and where will make me happy, and then get it. Don't wish it, do it. Don't want it, be it. No more daydreaming, leave the dreams for when I'm sleeping, the day has to be for living...somehow, somewhere. Anywhere. To quote a Green Day song, " I've been waiting a long time, for this moment to come. I'm destined...for anything at all".

That's really all I have for now, and it's not much. But it feels like a start. As I write that, I'm wondering how many times I've said it before, but everyday is a new beginning I suppose. Love to all...

Im saying no more. I refuse to settle. I refuse to accept things. I refuse to stop dreaming. I refuse to give up love, to give up passion, to give up the idea that it's there. I refuse to sell myself short. I refuse to fail because I never tried. Ive spent so long, too long, wondering why things didnt work. I refuse to sit still. I refuse, as some have said, to sit in the room full of doors and choose none. I will go through them, around them, or kick them the fuck down. I refuse the notion that my soul should not be set on fire. I refuse to settle for less than a passion to light the skies with. I refuse to be the one holding myself down. Fuck that and fuck me for doing it for so long. I refuse.

How do you go about sustaining lifes little moments of wonder? I skipped classes for a day once in college and drove out into the middle of nowhere, trying to find somewhere I wouldn't know the way home from. Not that I meant to get lost for good, as much as to feel what it was like to be somewhere new and different enough that home wasn't around the bend, or just down this road a spell. Oddly enough trying to find out more about myself by being alone and lost. On this drive, in the early morning sun, I came up over the top of a hill, and was just soaked in sunlight. Forget the visors, forget sunglasses, forget squinting, forget it. Just soaked, the car entirely lit up in a way no bulb could ever match. It was overwhelming in a way I barely new, but I still knew it was something. The crest of the hill, the sun, the cool winter air coming through the window, blaring along with the song on the radio, all of it combined and in that moment I touched something. A nerve of some sort. Or something touched me, somehow. I laughed and cried the happiest I ever had in my life. I was light and if it not for the car and reality holding me down, I could have shot off into the sun.

I don't know exactly what that was. I've had theories, over the years, but none really hit it, none quite do it justice, so I won't bother with them here. But it was a moment of joyous wonder, of freedom and comfort, a moment so overwhelmingly content that to touch it again was dangerously exciting, and you dared not try, and couldn't help but long for it again. Even now I don't know I do the moment justice. But I digress. The hill dipped back down, the sun slipped over the roof and out of sight and the moment passed. The wonder turned into simple curiosity where to turn next.

It's come close since, a few times. I had a conversation once with a friend that lasted hours, and there were laughter and tears and anger and love all in one big emotion. It was not a conversation from minds or reason, but from the gut, from the soul, and I had as little control over what I said as they did over what they said. But after it I was spent, and had just a small tingle of the morning drive sensation.

Similarly during a sermon by the bishop in my sisters conference at what I believe was her ordination service. God help me I can't even remember the service now, but sitting off to the side of the balcony so my distractedness wouldn't be obvious I was hit by her words, pushed and prodded, made to feel something move through me. If only I could pin it down, if only I could grab that feeling, hold it down, and figure it out before it fleeted away. But it did.

The most recent time I felt this was on of those times where the hype doesn't even come close to touching something's awesomness. I'd heard about roadtrips. I've read about them, watched television shows and movies about them, heard from friends that there's nothing like them. I've heard about places like the Badlands, or whatever sight there is to be seen on the road. But then I stood on the peak of a mountaintop in the Badlands. I drove through the park, 15 dollars lighter, and climbed the hill that remained as the peak of peaks. The highest spot I could see, and I looked around in a 360 degree spin, and gasped.

My hands sit motionless on the keyboard for about five minutes just now trying to describe it. I make do with this because as much as I've tried to explain these feelings, and moments in my life, I don't do them justice and I know it won't sound as immense as it felt. But believe me, this was a moment no hype could taint for me. This was looking at the world for the first time. This was seeing without end, til the sky touched far off mountains and hills, lakes and rivers, with seemingly infinite space to offer. In that moment I had no questions. I had no need to drive anywhere to find myself. I had no worries, no concerns. I forgot everyone and everything I knew prior to it and was just there. A small, infinitesimal even, part of the world. It was a feeling I had only touched before, and rarely.

And then it was gone. I heard kids running nearby, cars driving, and remembered how long my road and how many hours I had to go yet that day. At the time I didn't think to cherish it. Maybe that's the curse of moments like that. You get overwhelmed, you get lost in the feeling of it all, and you can't focus enough to remember it as well. Your left afterwards knowing something just happened, and wondering and hoping you'll get to feel it again. It is, if ever I have known one, the meaning of this life. Our purpose, or mine at least, is to feel that. However I can, wherever it is, and for however long I can hold it. How do you sustain these moments of pure wonder? I don't know yet, but I have a lifetime left to keep trying. Love you all.

TJQ

just a thought...

I was reading a website, and it mentioned that they're going to do a new film version of The Diary of Anne Frank. It reminded me of something from when I was younger, and my sister was in a stage version of it in high school. Im sure it was good and all, but what stuck with me, and the part I always remember, is how they had the students that played the Nazi soldiers come in at the end and kneel, presenting the female actors with roses. That might not be an exact recollection, but the point remains, and even still however many years later I get the goosebumps thinking about that kind of gesture.

It's weird though, the things that move you. I don't completely understand what moves me. Some of it makes the basic sense. Family of course. When the same sister was voted on at her home church and everybody clapped and said yes, of course. When my mother was honored for her good work at that church, of course. When my nephew says Hi Uncle T, god yes.

But it's not just that, and it's not always that. When Paul O'neill played his potentially last game in Yankee Stadium in 2001 the fans chanted his name. Not the way they do at the beginning of every game. Not quietly like you can hear at alot of games. Loudly, clearly, with almost one voice. I looked at the video just now the double check the year, and even still I get emotional. Everytime.

The geek in me doesn't mind saying, that at the end, or towards the end of The Return of the King, Aragorn comes down from being crowned to see the four hobbits. They bow to him, and he says ' You bow to noone.', and then the entire crowd bows to them.

There's more, and none of this I'm overly proud of, but an episode of Boy Meets World, where the mother feels unappreciated, and Cory is upset because the lunch lady died. They don't make a big thing of the mother, but right at the end, when she's resigned herself to another morning of being ignored, Cory sits and says thanks for making breakfast mom. That's it, and it gets me everytime.

Why though? Why these things and not others? There's plenty of sweet stories. Plenty of emotional things. It's just a thought, I don't have an answer, but it popped into my head just now so there ya go. That's it for now.

I figure it's my turn to win some or learn some...

I drove across the country.

I moved in with a buddy in Portland, OR

I walk or bike somewhere everyday.

I don't drink soda.

I do drink organic milk.

I spend most of my time with hippies.

I gave blood for the first time ever.

I'm learning how to cook, slowly.

I'm learning how to play the guitar, even more slowly.

I have a few books and my clothes with me and that's all.

I got really sick when I tried to eat fast food.

I haven't watched tv aside from the Yankees game at the bar in over three weeks.

I hiked approx. 5 miles roundtrip up a mountain.

I saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time.

I've been gone from home for about three times longer than I ever had been before.

When I list it all it sounds pretty good. It sure sounds like I'm doing something. I can't begin to explain the weirdness of life right now. But maybe the weirdest thing is that it doesn't really feel that weird. There's a certain feeling I was expecting, like walking around downtown Portland I expected to just stop and say Oh my God I'm in Portland. But it hasn't happened. Look at the list, it's definitely alot of new and different stuff. But living here, being here, feels similar. I feel similar. I miss my family and friends with a passion I didn't know I had until I got here, but personally I feel the same.

I didn't feel the same on the road out. On the way out here I was an adventurer. I was an explorer, and ignoring the millions of other people, I was covering unchartered territory. Taming the west one empty state at a time. I came, I saw, I conquered the hell out of places. I made Montana my bitch. I waded the Mississippi. I leveled the Rocky Mountains. I stood on top of the mountains of the Badlands, spun in a circle to see all the world, and decided life was good.

Here I need a job. Here I need a registration, gas, an oil change, food, clothes, all that. It's real life, and it's good. I'm enjoying it, don't get me wrong. But nothing has touched the freedom of that drive yet, and my heart still longs to be aiming for the horizon. I am in love with going. Somewhere, anywhere, I can. I want to see it. I want to look eye to eye with George Washington, and I have. I want to swim in the oceans, and I have. I want to do more, and damnit I will.

Somehow, when I can, I will. Or i'll die trying. That's all for now.

tjq

Welcome

It never seems to fail. I love the idea of creating a blog. I love the idea of a blank notebook page. I love the possibilties they imply. I love the vastness of options a blank anything gives you. I want so desperately to fill it. Maybe more than that though, I want to know what to fill it with. A blank piece of paper will lend itself equally willingly to a work of literary genius and a doodle drawn by yours truly. How then to start out on this journey? How do you know what to fill the page with?

That I suppose is the question I have never been able to answer. I still can't. I can write about feelings, about my dad, about sports, movies, books, politics. Anything. Everything. But what should I do with it? With infinite possibilites and extremely finite answers, where does one begin? That I suppose, until a new path presents itself, will be the intention of this blog. To figure out, one step at a time, many of them failed steps, where to go.

That's all for now I guess. I'll be back when the moment strikes me. Until then any ideas or comments are welcome. Anything to kick the old brain in to gear.

tjq