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Giving People A Reason To Live Since 1985 [entries|friends|calendar]
Paul, If you really want to know...

[ website | My writing and such ]
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[21 Nov 2011|05:26am]
I was at a wedding today. The families were happy . Everyone seemed to be in a great mood. Nobody knew that two nights ago the bride had passionately kissed her ex boy fried in a car. A shitty car. I don’t know why, but that makes the act more seedy and depressing. If it had been in a Porsche, it’s forgivable. But a Honda? You’re a whore who ought to have stones chucked at you.

Anyhow, the families danced, the kids laughed and ran and blew bubbles and her fuck buddy, the bride’s fuck buddy, sat at the center table with a pasted smile on his face. A strange unwavering smile that desperately seemed to want to convince everyone that he was happy for her and that it’s not weird that he’s there at all. But you could tell by the way everyone treated him that it was very strange that he was there. They would stand in circles talking glancing once in a while at his direction,
“Who’s he?”
“oh, that’s her ex boyfriend.”

Not so fun I would imagine. But I guess we all have those special regrets. Then we return to the past and try to right a wrong. Somehow, going back and re-sexing the one that got away will fix everything that’s happened since. But then, they start talking, and you remember exactly why it didn’t work out. You remember why you ran out of the relationship as fast as you could. Sometimes it’s important to trust your mistakes. Sometimes people tend to put there past on a pedestal and romanticize everything before. I guess its evolutions way of keeping us on track. To continue what works and throw away the rest. Or maybe we’re all assholes who want to have the best of every world possible.

If you’re wondering why I never said anything to the groom, I guess it’s because I don’t really much like him. Or the bride for that matter. they chose each other for a good reason and I always fancied myself as more of a documentarian. I am, after all a history major. Perhaps they’ll be happier if they keep cheating on each other for many years to come. It’s impossible to say what makes a marriage work.
3 in Action / The American Dream

optimism prime [03 Jan 2010|01:28pm]
How can a person live without taking a risk? Well, first, one has to build himself a box. A room with everything available to him on a whim. With as many distractions as humanly possible. A TV work quite well in these instances. A gaming system works even better. Next, one needs a cover to show everybody he’s not purposely trying to go nowhere in his life. A crappy minimum wage job does well at this. He can say, “well, at least I have a job”, and people nod and say, “yes. That’s more than I can say for so and so.” Thank God for those who have not mastered deadbeatism. Next, community college is an even better front to throw those who are willing to judge you off your trail. “Hey! I don’t have time to get a better job, I’m going to school!” and of course, that’s definitely more than they can say for so and so. It’s also important to get yourself a dream too big to actually pursue. Like being a writer, or an actor, or a landscape renovator or a cook in France. Something that makes you sound interesting without actually being interesting. And most importantly, you need someone to sponge off of. If your parents actually allow this for years past your 18th birthday, your set.

I can’t say that I enjoy this life at the moment. I will say in my defense that I have been trying and in fact will get an AA within the year. But it has taken me a substantially longer time to get it than almost all of my old friends from high school. Apparently, I’m afraid to get out of this little bubble I’ve built for myself; especially when I consider how tiny and insignificant it’s gotten in the last few years. I hate this bubble that I’m in, but am so terrified of the outside world that I do nothing to get free. I mean, thinking about it, what if I go into the real world and find that this idea of being a talented actor that I’ve built up in my safe bubble isn’t true. What does that mean for my life? I’ve spent so much time on that one subject I’m not prepared to do anything else.

What made my heroes the people that they were? Fortitude. The ability to do what had to be done. Classic manliness from eons past; especially in women. The worse these people had it in their lives and the more they accomplished and the more heroic they became in my mind.

There’s a saying I hear a lot, “the last thing the world needs is another artist.” And I can’t say I disagree. What is acting now but a load of rewards, and at my level competitions that I always lose. Not that I mind losing them, but it’s supposed to be a goddamn art form. How can a person lose at an art form? And theater actors seem inexistent. The only time I hear about plays is when a film actor is in the cast or directs it or produces it.

I guess what I’m saying is, I feel like I have no niche in life and I can’t seem to get the balls to claim one much to the chagrin of my parents.

To make matters worse, I’m still dwelling on a breakup from a year and a half ago. I think it might be a mental, safe distraction from the real problems in my life. Dwelling on her, as upsetting as it is, is better than feeling like a complete failure. Though, now that I think of it, dwelling on that break up also makes me feel like a failure. I must reek of failure if all I can think about is failure.

I was diagnosed with severe depression, and then I ran out of insurance. So I can’t get pills for it. So as a result, I have to learn to live with depression. No an easy task, especially because I now find myself using it as an excuse for my behavior or my decisions. Then there’s the depression itself… it comes in waves and is relentless. Depressives do this thing called ruminating, where we replay events over and over and over in our minds. Especially emotionally jarring events. I do that everyday and am always looking for distractions now. Videogames help the most. I don’t drink or get high much. Or else I’d have a whole new list of problems to deal with. Sometimes you have to be able to drown and drift back to shore. If I spent all of my time distracted, I would be dead inside.

It doesn’t help that I’ve spent the last year and a half watching my ex with her boyfriend. But now it’s become my fault because I never left that goddamn bullshit school. I stick to that deadening place because I feel safe. Why do I do this? There’s nothing good here. I don’t really have any friends here either. Not good ones. Not ones who I can call and talk to on a whim. But where do you find friends like that anymore?

I’m sick of living in purgatory, being a slug. A sponge. An anti-hero in my own mind. I’m so oppressed by my own thoughts it makes me want to drive away and start over and force myself into bravery. Acting is in my blood. It’s what I like. It’s what I’m told I’m good at. Goddamnit. Why am I staying here? There’s nothing for me here anymore. I’m dying here. My soul is wasting away here. I feel it. I have to find another way out besides school. I have to just leave. But where to? And to do what? God only knows. But I must.
3 in Action / The American Dream

[04 Sep 2009|12:02am]
[ mood | Good ]

Got a show coming up called

TRUE WEST by Sam Shepard

it's fri and sat at 8 o'clock

I'm excited about it! Very much so

Hope any and everyone can make it

It's at Mt. Sac in the BlackBox theater

6 in Action / The American Dream

I am Samson [03 Oct 2008|02:26am]
"Rather than love, than money, than faith, than fame, than fairness... give me the truth" ~ Henry David Thoreau

I found out today that I am Samson.

The clearest thinking I get is during long distance runs. I jog for miles and think, on a treadmill and other cardio machines. And I have a lot to think about. I can’t seem to get over my break up with my girlfriend. I try not to talk about it with people, but that seems to make me talk more. Funny.

When I was jogging, I started thinking about Samson from the Bible, and how he loved a woman like he loved nothing in this world. His incredible strength was there, but he never used it except to impress his woman that he loved dearly. But her tribe wanted him dead and she was loyal to them… she would betray him over and again, but Samson was in deep denial about it, until one night, he couldn’t deny it to himself any longer, and told her his one true weakness. She betrayed him, and he was heartbroken when his enemies captured him.
I don’t believe his hair was the true source of his strength, I believe that when he couldn’t lie to himself anymore, when he saw the truth, that the woman he loved so dearly not only didn’t love him in return, but was loyal to his enemies, he was filled with a deep sorrow that left him impudent of strength and the will to go one.

But, when he was tied up in his enemy’s palace, his eyes gouged out, he saw that they too deluded themselves, running from the pain of life with food, orgies, wine, and false gods who encouraged vice. He saw that they, like him, lied to themselves about the betrayer who they slept with every night. Themselves! And he saw that he too had been betraying himself, and it was not Delilah who hurt him, but it was he who had injured himself, throwing his strength away on nothingness! This incredible strength that allowed a child to kill a lion with his bare hands! This strength which could have helped awaken mankind had been wasted his entire life! He saw this, eyeless though he was, and in facing this noble truth, he saw God and spoke to Him, and God let him see what he must do. He tore down the columns of the mighty palace crushing the entire assembly with the heavy concrete TRUTH.

And I found that I am Samson, who, though I am still young, has wasted his talent on something fleeting, while there is a cold biting truth to be spoken in the millions of written plays and yet to be written plays in the world. Eugene O'neil tears at my soul when i see his plays. about the true soul of man and his inability to forgive himself. his inability to believe he deserves love. his pipe dreams which help him live the poison days that he drifts in and out of in his drunken stupers.

So I shaved my head. It’s corny, but sometimes a symbol emboldens a man to be a man.

I am Samson. I need to find my columns.
4 in Action / The American Dream

fall [23 Sep 2008|12:16am]
Fall started this week. I like the fall. It’s a good time for depression. It feels like your one out of a million people who walk around damned lonely and damned depressed. A lot of hands in pockets this time of year. I noticed that a few years ago while watching people walk around.

Everything’s dying starting this week. By winter everything will be dead. And by spring I hope to be born again. I hope to be honorable and more artistic and more receptive and more kind to people. Like I’ve been shouting this past month, I’m done taking and I want to give. We’ll see though.

This month has been difficult. The most difficult I’ve had probably… at least it feels like it. It’s damn lonely and I feel damned pointless sometimes. I get so down, while my ex seems to be getting up and up and up. But, I don’t really know what’s going on in her life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad she’s doing well. The break up would be more painful somehow if she were miserable.

I’m better though, than I was. I write in a journal at home which is more rewarding than this journal. Probably because I don’t feel the need to be so cryptic.
I’m hoping I become a better person. It’s the only hope that makes me feel better. All other hopes seem to be deeply flawed, but the hope that I will be a man with self respect and a willingness to help people makes me feel like maybe I can do something truly good with my life. I hope so.

I may be going to Chapman soon. Maybe. That’d be wonderful. That would be a great start for Spring. Out of the dead happiness in Mt Sac and into action at Chapman. Well who knows. But I can dream can’t i?
The American Dream

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