The wannabe comedian

Part of my sense of humor is to be able to laugh at anything and anyone, including myself. Even in very difficult situations I just laugh at myself, others, or the incongruities that are happening around me.

I still remember in football when one of our teammates messed up, did something he should not have, and the coach punished everyone except him. We got down and did more pushups than I could count, while the coach had him watch. This was far more painful to him than punishing just him or even punishing everyone together; it served to shame him.

I still do not know why I did this, but I broke out in shrill laughter in the middle of the drill. Everyone looked at me like I was insane, but I think I was just relieving the pressure, the tense environment we were caught in, the ironic situation we were in: the person responsible was the only one unpunished.

And I still laugh, bitterly many times. I laughed when I felt my ambitions were falling apart. Whenever I do something I later regret, I look back and laugh at myself, not with satisfaction, nor with joy really, just kind of a hollow, tense "well crap" laugh, and I slowly and bitterly smile at the difficulty of the situation.

The things we do

Sometimes humans just need someone to love them, a voice of acceptance, unconditional and open. Sometimes we need this to move on from past scars that hurt from time to time.

I want to be that voice.

Accidental Disconnects

Trembling at terrible choices,
portents as unknowable as my mind,
heart attacks, insomnia, and paralyzation
bitter tastes in my mouth
and in my mind,
Cornered in false dilemmas
I choose with fear and trembling.

I want nothing more than to embrace
to love, to cry these solder tears
scarring copper hearts, trying to establish connection
to get the electricity flowing again,
but a connection needs two sides.



the beautiful lyrics translated: http://www.netwave.or.jp/~tierra/Gipsy_Kings/lyric/pediratu.html

Alternate Endings

Dreaming for the first time in so long
in color even, though black and white features are all I see
ink alive with motion, curving into strands
strokes of hair and eyelashes blinking
and nearing to kiss, but right there our pupils meet
black holes absorbing the view.
And suddenly a smile, rose watercolor
splashed across the perfect canvas.
Colliding into supernovae
I woke up, and finally remembered.