Measuring The Apple's Distance From The Tree

I'd rather make sense than cents, though I don't know that I often succeed at either.  Too often, my search for the words to express the sentiment that I feel deep within my spirit comes up empty.  It's just one of the many things I am bad at.  I try my best to be unpredictable too, but it seems that the only surprise I've managed to pull off so far is when I realized that I wasn't.  Still, I can't but ride on through the night, laptop desperado that I am.  Besides, writing gives me the Pinnochio effect.  (I feel like a real boy)

Organic Apples

songs ring out in my head

wrapt in memory

everything means more when you’re young

and your parents believe

time has passed me by

until even the man in the mirror

doesn’t know my name

but it’s still teaser putting me to sleep

and firecats run wild in my dreams

where i’d rather clean windows

than be a rich man

on comes the call

social justice

sounding in the distance

behind walls

i hear the screaming

left then right, left then right

a solider marching

all the time i’m left

until i make it right

no, my father’s ghosts don’t haunt me

and my mother’s sorrows don’t get me down

but i’ve both their hearts within me

and my own small thorny crown

- JB 08/04/11

Pay No Attention To The Random Thought Behind The Curtain

“Eat your oversize lollipop, and shut up.” – Munchkin Proverb

What most people don’t know about the Lollipop Guild is that they later disbanded to form the Lollipop Union and work for the good of munchkins everywhere.  The good witch didn’t like it much, as she soon had to sell her magic-bubble flying car, but it happened.  Elitists always hate equity – unless it is the kind that you add to liabilities to equal assets.  Me?  I think equity is a necessary component of justice for all.  It’s what makes America the bee’s knees.

Speaking of which - Do bee's knees get old and achy after awhile, and, if so, should that temper my use of the phrase "this is the bee's knees"?  The last thing that I want to do is have to then qualify that statement by clarifying that I am only referring to young bee's knees... because at that point it just doesn't sound cool.

Headphone Handicapped

With What Shall We Water The Wallflowers?

Every generation throws a hero up the pop-charts, and every generation finds something it dislikes about the next one.  As I approach my 29th birth anniversary, I’m beginning to cultivate the seeds of my inherent disdain for young whippersnaps everywhere.  We live in a time of iPods and online personalities, where even natural extroverts find themselves at least moderately socially incapable… because they only socialize when necessary and, even then, do so grudgingly.

People about my age and older can sustain this deficiency, because we learned interpersonal skills long ago.  We post status updates and write blogs *cough* to supplement relationships and self-expression - we don’t do it as our primary outlet.  These new wallflowers don’t have that background, and it hurts them.  They don’t just stand to the side at dances; they stand to the side of life itself, content to flower behind walls of their own construction.

Airplane Etiquette “aka Roller’s Special Request”

Pa’s Faux Pas
keep it together
now is not the time or place
farting on a plane
- JB 08/01/11

Look, I know the food on airplanes is bad, but who do you think you’re kidding?  That stench is not your mystery meat and vegetable medley.  You do realize that there are bathrooms, right, but no windows that I can crack?  This is like riding in the car with my uncle Dave, only it isn’t the window-lock button that has been pressed, and no amount of begging is going to convince the captain to make a pit-stop.  There should be a “no-smoking” equivalent on planes where one has to make a pledge not to eat beans and/or ethnic food for three days before a flight.

“Yes, I’d like a no-ass-dropping seat please.  Thanks!”

Airplanes are like mullets.  Everything is good and professional in the front, but the further back you go, the dirtier and poorer it looks.  Me?  I’ll take the party in the back, even if it means sitting next to a known ass-dropper or two.  People back there are real and have personalities.

This "Green" Post Was Made of Recycled Thoughts

'And', And Nothing More

like getting to the top of a mountain

and expecting a revelation

only to find yourself out of breath

dazzled by the sights

but awaiting an emotion that never comes

like seeing a pretty painting

but wanting a movie

even your daydreaming

suffers from insomnia

in the shadow

of expecting 'and'

when the sentence ends

-JB 07/29/11

As a reader of this continually unfolding manuscript of greatness, I hereby notify you that class is in session.

I've been told that depression runs in my family, and, truth be told, I've seen some evidence to support the assertion.  I must admit, though, I don't really "get" depression, at least not in the way others seem to describe it.  I mean, I understand it cognitively, and I've experienced it intermittently - as have all people.  For me though, it is like a dream.  I'm sad, but I feel disconnected from it until it, eventually, passes.  It doesn't define me and I would distinguish between being depressed, and feeling depressed.

Whatever the source, depression seems generally related to the most basic of philosophical questions - the meaning of life, one's purpose, why am I here.

Let's explore that for a moment.  I exist.

ex·ist - verb

1. to have actual being

2. to have life or animation

3. to continue to be or live

My existence consists of who I am and the actions I take.  Life is not what you make of it. Whoever coined that phrase missed the target.  You are what you make of yourself, life is just what happens - sometimes as a result, sometimes outside of your direct influence. Your inputs and intent matter, the output does not... apart from the effect on your ego.

The point of existence is, therefore, to make one's self. 

"There are many forks in the yellow brick road, but they'll get you to the Emerald City none-the-less." - Munchkin Proverb

Whether you choose the high road or the low road, both will have forks.  We can''t choose when and where we encounter them, but we can choose which direction to go.

Class dismissed.

He Who Shall Be Named, Albeit Generically

"The Man"

villian wrongly named

slander of my own true sex

manly, you are not
- JB 07/25/11

Few have wreaked as much havoc, have engendered such a sense of revulsion, and been so widely looked down on with derision as – The Man.  If truly there is a name written in the stars, they most assuredly read “The Man” - because he either owns them or has enslaved the star people to do his bidding.  Yes, friends, The Man is one dastardly, no-good, has-all-the-connections-so-he-never-loses, straight-up MF’er.

Don’t bother telling him I told you, though, because he won’t believe you.  We’re tight like skinny jeans.

Why is that, you ask?  How could such an upstanding citizen such as myself be so intimately associated with this villain - he who dumps out the last of your milk at night while you lie sleeping, innocently dreaming of a delicious morning bowl of cereal; who steals one of each pair of socks, only to return them to your next load of laundry just after you gave up hope and threw away the other one; who makes your significant other forget to replace the roll of TP when it runs out?

Well, there’s an interesting story behind that, let’s see if I can remember how it goes.  Oh yeah… I remember... it goes something like this:

I’m an even bigger badass!  The end.

Look, I don’t want to take anything away from Darkwing Duck, but if anybody is the headache in the criminal mind –it’s this guy (I’m pointing at myself).  Who is the surprise in your cereal box, the batteries that aren’t included, the wrong number that wakes you at 3 am, the raspberry seed you can’t floss out? Me. I mean, let’s be honest -that cartoon was basically preemptive plagiarism of my life before I lived it.

I know what you’re saying, though: 

"Mr. Black, just looking at you it becomes obvious that you are awesome, but how exactly does this association with The Man prove it?"

First of all, thanks for noticing.  Secondly, I’ll fill you in on a secret – The best way to stick it to The Man is to convince him to pay you to work against his best interests.  That is to say, I’m the chief instigator behind a silent and unannounced mutiny.  Shhh…

Look, all artificial and goofy presentation tactics aside, the best way for most of us to enact meaningful change is to change things from the inside.  Rare is the opportunity to ‘go rogue’ and actually accomplish something.  I know many people who look at the state of the world, and at the institutions that exist, and feel a strong sense of disgust.  I feel that way myself.  The problem, (as I see it), though, is that so many people allow their righteous feelings of frustration to stagnate in a sea of inaction.  It’s hard to figure out how to change systemic problems – because systemic problems are huge, and they don’t derive from a single deficiency.

The way I see it is that action is always best, and any action that isn’t fruitful can be changed when that determination is made.  Beyond that, The Man is either going to have hirelings who make things worse by reinforcing problems… or he can hire me.  

Let’s face it, the systems that are set up, (the ones so many of us feel are used to abuse, misinform, or otherwise oppress), are so effective in doing so because they are utilized by the vast majority of the population… and the people using those systems have the greatest need for change.  By working within the system, you can bring that change directly to them without having to fight for their attention.  From there, it is but a matter of time before they begin to recognize the benefit of the changes (assuming you are right).

I’ll work hard, but I’ll do it with a smile on my face.  I’ll interact with others, but I’ll do it in a way that encourages them towards their own positive action.  I’ll build systems, do tasks, teach others – but always with the goal of creating a more cohesive unit, focused on long-term positive results for humanity as a whole… and, no, not every action or choice that I make will be so clearly imbued with profound implications, but I believe that the truly profound is best hidden in the accumulation of many smaller actions, enacted over a lifetime.

Kissing a Keyboard Softly in the Night Hour

Much has happened in my life since I last posted, though little enough of it was like to amuse such few as might chance upon this blog. Still, at various times, the stray deep thought crossed my mind. In such moments, I made a silent vow to myself that I would post such thoughts at a later date. Sadly, my people never contacted themselves to arrange a time, and unspoken word is not bond.

Yesterday I was intent on posting about life and death, as a 38 year old at my wife's place of employment passed on of a sudden heart attack (while in a boardroom meeting). Before that, I was pondering what one truly owes to family and friends, versus that which makes up generosity and kindness. Still earlier it was just families in general, as the Black family's yearly vacation was underway and/or stumbling to the finish-line full of fire and brimstone, as is our wont. None of those posts were to be, though I will say that my family is full of people generally considered to be fine communicators, however such others as would describe us that way too often neglect the listening side of communication.

Instead, I am left with a few random thoughts and some more potential poetry - mindless nonsense for those with no minds and little sense. Meager fare indeed, though enough to sustain my own interest, at least. Your own interest is for you to measure, though I suspect that I am most respected by my intellectual peers. In terms of the poetry, that means I have to hope that a number of fifth graders enjoy reading of my life now that it is less dynamic.

Night Echoes

pretty bird

come sing in my window awhile

night has come

and you must rest

but i worked all day

while you sang and sang

the moon shines bright

but only echoes remain

if a passing owl

should chance you awake

come sing in my window awhile

-JB 05/27/10

I assume that I am not alone when I feel as though my best intentions of being a productive and vibrant member of society, of choosing the right ways to spend my time, of knowing what will bring me lasting happiness; all these end in disappointment eventually, even if just a little. I think of being young, when simple things were of profound import in my life. Now, complex things take up my time yet leave me feeling cheated – and it matters not that I do the cheating.

If I was a child, I would be chasing fireflies right now and loving life. Instead, I'm chasing myself indoors to artificially cool air where the only flashings of brightness are electronic, and there is but passing joy in their catching. -JB 07/19/11

If it weren’t for my lovely sidekick wife, I would be even worse off. I was thrice lucky with her. We married young and have enjoyed one another's company longer than we might have, she balances out some of my failings (such as my inability to act in ways that would bring about my cherished desires), and she is committed to working together on our marriage and life in a way that (eight years later) still sets the goal of unity higher than self and pride. The final point is probably the luckiest of all.

Slow Morning

a smile rests easy under blue eyes

face creased with happiness

still young, but not like before

a woman’s face has replaced the girl i married

myself not quite a man

slow morning

stay slow

we’ve got nowhere to go

and i want to remember this

-JB 6/29/11

As I think back on the past few posts, I see a pattern. It is mostly Facebook posts revisited, with a little extra nonsense thrown in. Have no fear, however, because I will endeavor to reduce the predictability. My first step? I'm gonna go check myself out at the library. I hate it when people can read me like a book.

Almost Thoughts and The Story of My Life

Most of the time when I try to write something, I get a line or two in and come screeching to a halt - my train of thought having run off the tracks.  I wouldn't say that I have ADD, so much as I try to cover too much track for a single train, (or maybe a defectively slow train), so the train speeds dangerously to try and meet the demand.  When it works, it's great.  Most often, though, there is a wreck.

Typically, the poems are lost to the ages, never having made the transition out of my brain.  Since I have a blog here, I'm going to start posting some of these potential poems.  Hopefully, it inspires me to pick them back up later and fix / add to them.

Then, I'll be famous.

The Heart Hive

and love swarms
comin’ in fuzzy and warm
whenever I see the form
of the one I’m sworn to
-JB 6/28/11

Me / Myself / A Scarecrow

my face on a carton
always watching
your cup of sadness
half-full

i was an optimist
eating life’s spaghetti
without a fork
in the yellow brick road
most traveled

and all around were faces
bound into pages
always chasing, erasing
most of what remained
of an uncatalogued existence
bordering on subsistence
-JB 6/28/11

On a side note, Scarecrows aren't really scary enough (especially not to birds). They just look like people - big whoop! If you really want to do something scary, build a Clowncrow. Clowns scare everybody.

Farmers can thank me with generous portions of the harvest they save.

Non-Buyer's Remorse and The Great Newspaper Upstairs

I have often described my sense of humor as the absence of a sense of humor; in the same way as a darkened room can only be described in terms of the absence of light. At the same time, I like to think of myself as a witty funnyman - underrated, even.  After all, I amuse myself thoroughly.

My status updates on Facebook from a year ago still make me laugh when I scroll back and look at them.  It is these status updates, however, that have flipped my world upside down (more on this later).

Mostly I make obnoxious observations, puns that aren’t funny so much as observational and juxtaposed against reality.  I also tend towards self-deprecating jokes because I generally don’t mind being the victim.  Here again I tend to think that I’m hilarious, having told people before that the only problem with a self-deprecating sense of humor is that I am pretty funny.

Well The Great Newspaper Upstairs can stop the presses because the veil has been removed from in front mine eyes.  (How did it happen king?) Yes, everybody wants to know, don't they? (Most people.)

I’ll tell you:

There I was, minding my own business and lost in a sea of self-worth – believing I was an undiscovered comedic genius - when all of the sudden I stumbled across a Demetri Martin stand-up video on Netflix.

As he delivered his first joke, I laughed.  Laughter quickly turned into mirth, in that I realized his sense of humor was more or less equivalent to mine – and he was famous!  Finally, some proof to support my delusions of grandeur.

It was a happy moment indeed.

As time went on, however, I noticed some obvious differences.  First of all, he is talented.  He plays the piano and the guitar.  Even more impressively, he can draw on charts with both hands – at the same time!  Secondly, I have to assume that he is at least moderately funnier than me (because he works at it).  To sum, he is the talented, funnier version of me.

As his routine ended, I was conflicted.  Do I follow my initial plan of action by linking myself to him as an announcement of my discovery to the world, hoping that the inevitable comparisons come out favorably; or do I keep silence, knowing that people would recognize the same differences that I did and announce me a fool?  There was humiliation risk, certainly.  I had to think on it.

In hindsight, thinking on it was a foolish decision.

Many instances upon a time, I have found something at the store that I really liked, but couldn't decide whether or not to fork the money over in order to buy it.  I left the store to ponder my purchase, only to come back the next day to find that the desired item had sold out.  The same principles of non-buyer’s remorse were in play with this decision, only I didn’t know it at the time, which is quite tragic.

In the end, I think that I can compare myself to Demetri and feel comfortable dismissing any naysayers.  No comparison is perfect, but many of my status updates could easily fit into his routine.  Besides, even if he is funnier… he has all day to come up with his material.  I will not make that case, however, because it would only serve to sadden me further (though I suppose I am making that case indirectly right now).

The thing is - I like standup.  I watch a lot of it.  But the more I consider his standup - I didn’t find "the talented, funnier version of me" to be all that funny.

And that isn't amusing in the slightest.

Life-crafting

Both eyes wide open

Watching as the world unfolds

A baby learning
JB 06/24/11
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Shelly is watching the movie ‘Babies’ on Netflix.  We watched this when it was in the theatre, and I didn’t much care for it.  I had expected more narration and purpose, but really it's simply a movie where the differences in lifestyle are allowed to speak for themselves and contrast with the similarities of the development each child undergoes.  Watching it now, I think that is the better choice.  It’s still not a movie that I would recommend to others on a regular basis, but it succeeds in painting a picture.

Sometimes I find myself trying to logically think through the ideal parenting style, as if there is a specific methodology that will assist me in raising the perfect child (when we have one).  It’s a failing of mine to overanalyze. On the bright side, I might still be painting apartments for a boss on work release from prison if I didn’t fret over such details.  Still, while there is value in being prepared and thoughtful before deciding to have a child, there are times (like now) when I recognize the truth that my idea of a perfect upbringing would be a handicap.

Watching this movie, you see clearly how stark the contrast is between brightly colored books, toys, or baby yoga; and being outside, playing in the dirt, or being leashed to the couch while your parents are out working.

We humans, though mere mortals, are yet capable of withstanding a wide array of circumstances, from extreme depravity to extreme excess.  We are equally capable of overcoming nearly any parental disorder, from neglect to the unique brand overzealous life-crafting that myself and my society are prone to.  It really solidifies in my mind the resilience of the human form and I sort of feel like the only things that matter are trying, paying attention, and giving your children a wealth of different experiences so that they are comfortable in a variety of settings.  The rest of it they'll manage themselves, never knowing the difference.