Being True to Yourself

    Growing up I had a friend who I truly would call my best friend, not that I only had 1 best friend, but this friend was the one who influenced me the most. The best way to summarize the relationship we had is to look at it in pirate terms. If I were the captain of my rag tag group then he was the first mate. A fairly egotistical metaphor I know but also honest. Why was I the captain and he the first mate, because among the group of rag tag scoundrels I led he was the only one who would not be led, he was the one I went to for my peace of mind and he was the one who always knew where he stood. He and I together were Duality.

    Allow me to explain, growing up I constantly sought out acceptance from others and aimed to fit in by blending in, I was a chameleon, always changing my style and thoughts and trying to be something I was not in order to be cool or even liked. My counterpart, who I will refer to as Doll Face, enjoyed seclusion from others, he stuck to his own views and his own style, never changing who he was even when people tried and tried to crack that porcelain shell.

    My way led me to a life of constant identity questioning and changing, never truly being happy and never truly fitting in anywhere. It made me always see the grass as being greener instead of working to grow my own. His way caused people to flock to him, to want to be associated with him and even made people question what it was that they were even though that was never his goal. Doll Face never wavered to who he was even in temptation and that made him cool to others, it made him that strong quiet type. It made him type that the girls wanted to figure out the mystery behind and the guys wanted to be seen as that mystery. I became known as a loud and outspoken odd ball with brightly colored braces that scared girls away and made the guys want to hit him which is why Doll Face ironically started to call me Stitch Mouth.

    I spent so much time trying to be cool, trying to be funny, trying to be dark, mysterious, trying to be accepted that I never stopped and tried to be myself. Not until 12 years later after I had come to terms that I never took time to meet myself, to stare myself in the eyes, and get to know who I truly was. I didn’t meet myself until I was 26 and had the world fall apart around me, or at least what I thought was the world. That is when I realized that my best me, the me that would have been cool, the me that could have known everyone and done everything is the me who doesn’t care about how he is seen or who he impresses, it is the me that lives life for himself and understands in his own thoughts, his own beliefs and his own ideas. Me that is open to accepting other people’s views and ideas and enjoys every part of life that comes at him.

    I aim to leave every reader with a uplifting thought here at the conclusion, something to inspire them to do more and be more, to achieve their own greatness and today is no different. Today, I ask all of you to stop living to blend in, but instead to stand out. Stop chasing the crowd, but to turn and lead it. Stop being told what to believe and instead believe what is right for you. I ask that you take some time to get to know who you really are before you are simply another face among the mass that goes through the motions of day to day life. 

The History of: Me

    It has been roughly a month or so since I have posted a blog and there are a few reasons for that. I have been busy with the daily grind and focusing on a few new things but tonight I wanted to take some time to write an entry that I have been meaning to write for some time.

    When I was a junior in Highschool I joined the school newspaper and that is one of the key moments in my life where I realized that I really enjoyed writing. There was another key factor much earlier in life before this but I will write about that another time. Recently I was cleaning out my house and I stumbled across the self-summary I had to write for English class. This same English teacher was the head of the school paper. Below, is the exact essay written word for word and letter for letter that I submitted to that teacher as my first assignment.

Dear M. Ferris

    As a student I can be very odd and entertaining. I am usually a jokester inside and out of the class and try to keep a bit of humor in everything.

    I like to be treated fairly, as long as im not the example all the time i’m okay. Its easiest to get along with me in any way. I connect with interesting teachers and boring teachers I dont connect with.

    I dont like reading aloud because it goes slow, and presentations always cause that stomach churning feeling. Group work is something I avoid so im not stuck doing all the work. Writings great but sometimes there are points where you cant explain what you want too.

    I’m a fairly well writer if its fiction; non-fiction is to solid for me to write, it has form and facts and fiction is what you make it. My weakest skills in English is spelling and keeping my vocabulary use simple, both I would like improve on.

    Thinking of previous English classes I realise I only did bad when I did’nt respect the teacher, I felt that way towards Mrs.Sneed.

    I would like to accomplish a high grade in this class but evaluation is your choice. I’d rather not be judged by my ideas or outlooks because their so odd.

    I play guitar and draw and write, im also interested in being a movie writer or show writer or possibly an animator of my own show. I’m not a proud person because their just accomplishments and if it wase’nt you who did it then someone else would have.

    All you can really do to help me is keep things interesting, be open to odd ideas, and maybe repeat instructions because I have a tendency to tune out now and then. Question’s for you, do you run the school newspaper?

                      Sign your student for two six weeks,
                                                           James

I read over this self-summary now and think back to this time in my life and there are a few things I must address.

“I like to be treated fairly” ... WELL NO SHIT, WHO DOESN’T!

“Group work is something I avoid so im not stuck doing all the work. Writings great but sometimes there are points where you cant explain what you want too.” … HEY 16 YEAR OLD JAMES, STOP BEING A FUCKING DOORMAT AND MAKE OTHERS DO THEIR SHARE OF THE DAMN WORK, ALSO, LEARN TO WRITE YOU TWIT, MAYBE THEN YOU CAN “EXPLAIN WHAT YOU WANT!”

“I’m a fairly well writer if its fiction” … I WAS OBVIOUSLY STEVIE WONDER WHEN IT CAME TO RECOGNIZING MY SKILLS…BLIND!

“; non-fiction is to solid for me to write, it has form and facts and fiction is what you make it.” …WHY DID I TRY TO USE A SEMICOLON? Although not to toot my own horn this is the guy who wrote his completely factual final essay in 4 hours while stoned out of his mind for his Interpersonal Communication class in college and made a 97 on it.

 My weakest skills in English is spelling and keeping my vocabulary use simple, both I would like improve on.” …THE MOST ADVANCED WORD IN THIS ENTIRE ESSAY WAS “VOCABULARY” AND “ACCOMPLISHMENTS!” ONE CAN ALSO SEE THAT I WAS HORRIBLE AT USING PUNCTUATION!

“Thinking of previous English classes I realise I only did bad when I did’nt respect the teacher, I felt that way towards Mrs.Sneed.” … INSULTING OTHER TEACHERS, WAY TO GO DICK!

“I’d rather not be judged by my ideas or outlooks because their so odd.” … IDIOT, FUCKING IDIOT!

“I’m not a proud person because their just accomplishments and if it wase’nt you who did it then someone else would have.” …LOOK AT THE SELF-CONFIDENCE JUST POURING OUT OF THIS DUMBASS, WHY NOT BE THE PERSON WHO ACCOMPLISHED THE GOAL, YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO BE PROUD!

“All you can really do to help me is keep things interesting, be open to odd ideas, and maybe repeat instructions because I have a tendency to tune out now and then.” … I’M FAIRLY CERTAIN SHE HELPED ME MUCH MORE THAN I EVER STOPPED TO REALIZE.

    This brings me to my points, One, never be afraid to laugh at yourself, and two, there was no reason for this instructor to offer me a position in the school paper later on and granted I was eventually kicked out but that was for different reasons that I brought upon myself. I do remember that the last article I wrote for the paper was highly scrutinized and I was continuously questioned on the fact that I wrote it because it was so different from what I had been turning in. I never considered why I was interrogated so much about it until I found this and realized just how much my style of writing developed in that short time. I look back at this now and reflect on just how much of a dumb ass know-it-all I thought I was and laugh, but I also have drawn a great conclusion from it. There is no one in this world who is perfect, no one who cannot find something they can improve on, and if we can spare some patience on those people and help them see what it is we see in them, they maybe, just maybe they will develop into someone they are supposed to be.

 

 

Now & Then: Gatsby

    I enjoy a party as much as anyone else. There is a great deal of enjoyment in gathering people, mingling, and making new friends. In my past one could have considered me to be a young Gatsby. I would host parties for the simple reason of inviting over women that I had interest in with hopes of wooing them.  

    In my early twenties it was easy to get off of work at 10:30 (PM), grab a case of beer, some Boons-Farm, and invite all of my co-workers and friends over to party. I would give my roommate 15 minutes’ notice to get out of his PJ’s and spot clean the house. Within the hour we would have fifteen to thirty people over playing beer pong. There would be plenty of people smoking cigarettes on the porch and decent pop rock or top 40 playing on the lap top while everyone mingled. Usually a few hours in the roommate would end up on the roof with at least 2 other people while some drunken girl craving attention would have flashed her boobs at least 5 times by one o’clock.

    This method worked well for me and often led to me and some young lady in my room but I have never been a fan of the golden rule of sales…Always be closing. Almost always I would stop things before it went too far and while most guys would say this is dumb of me I honestly enjoyed knowing I have self-control and self-respect to not raise my number just because I could.

    Jump forward to 2015, I am now 26, living alone, single…again, and finally realizing the flaw in Gatsby’s master plan. Hosting booze fueled nights in hope of creating a relationship or connection of any form is a poorly laid out plan. It offers a great opportunity to catch all of the red flags but why even waste the time. I’m not saying that only bad things come from these situations, that is far from true, a great deal of amazing things happened on nights like this but it always had its flaws.

    Building a connection with a woman who is 5 beers and 4 shots in while she flashes the room will not lead me or many others to true happiness. These actions should be the writing on the wall that warn us of what we are about to get into. I am happy that I no longer find appeal in this Gatsby concept but also wish to pay my respect to what it has taught me. I learned that I have a great deal of self-control and that our intuitions and insight can save us from some really bad situations.

    I reflect on these nights and cherish that they are a part of my past. I hold memories of growing close to friends and a lover in these situations very close to my heart and often smile when I remember them. I will never forget the New Years that the roommate and I ended up in our birthday suits with glittery top hats over our junk while playing pong against each other. I will always cherish the Sunday cookouts with horse shoes and fajitas. I will always grow warm when I think back to my first surprise party thrown by someone who loved me even if the surprise was ruined. I know that I usually try to wrap these blogs up with some form of inspiration or call to action but not everything in our life has to be a step forward or a leap in a new directions, sometimes it is perfectly fine to stop, sit, and reflect on where we have been, instead of worrying about where we are going.

 

Who Hasn't Been There?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let us go back to a simpler time together, just for a moment. Take a few deep breaths and think back to when you were younger. Do you remember your favorite toy? Can you picture the layout of your room and that poster on your wall that you thought was so cool? Now remember the feel of your bed and your sheets. Picture yourself lying in that bed with the comforter pulled up.

Imagine it is raining outside, but not just raining, it is a heavy rain hitting your window. The thunder tears through the air and the lighting flashes every so often and illuminates the room while casting long shadows on the walls of every nick-knack. When the thunder fades you can hear a faint thudding sound in the distance. It isn’t a slow thud but it is not fast either, it is just constant, like the tick of a clock. The thunder cracks loudly and scares you out of your bed; you never were a fan of thunder when you were younger.

Now picture yourself walking through that dark room, past your toys and dresser and into the hallway. While you stumble down the hall your path is lit for brief moments by the lightning and then it quickly goes dark again.  You feel your way past the restroom and notice the thud again in the silence.

Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud….

Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud….

Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud….

You notice the rhythmic sound getting louder as you move down the hall. You place your hand against the wall and lean against it as you come to a door. The door is cracked and as you reach to open it a loud boom of thunder tears through the night. Your heart jumps and you stop for a moment, then the lighting ignites the darkness. You see the light cut through the crack in the door and you notice a dark form moving. You stop and stare, curious what it was you saw.

BOOM! More thunder

CRACK! More Lightning

You pier through the slit and notice the shady figure moving up and down, but this time something seems familiar about it. You recognize the shape and notice it moving to the rhythm of the thud. The light doesn’t seem to fade in the room as you look directly at the silhouette and realize what it is. You quickly turn around and run back to bed, jumping under the covers and hiding your face in your pillow...You just witnessed parental sex.