Xanga To Blogger, The Gift Of Time

Its tendrils wind within and throughout,
Directing harshly, with laws uncaring
For the automatons under its rule.
Yet emerging thereof,
Having treacherous awareness scaled,
Ever woven in the intricate tapestry –
Fate’s unyielding Over the surging multitude –
Truth.
Following death,
Preceding sorrow,
This naked path so empty and eternal
Echoes a life irretrievable.
And look upon the slaves of lies
Whose ignorance bloats the belly of pride
Surrounded am I
By this dull, quivering life,
Yet alone I stand.
My loves,
My flesh and my blood,
May they all die the same death as I.

This is something I wrote shortly after being discharged from the Army. Such a depressed little creature I was in December of 2004. I still remember pouring out barrels of discontented barf into my old Xanga blog during those years. Wow. That was nearly seven years ago. Time sure flies. Unrelenting, isn't it? It grabs a hold of us from the moment we're given life and pulls us into its eternal march... on, and on it goes, and we have absolutely no choice but to gradually wear out as we're dragged along in its wake.

That is, until the brilliant minds of tomorrow finally discover a way to inhibit decay. Human Preservatives? Seems like it'd be a nice invention. Cross-research in the fields of Biology, Chemistry, Physics, and Food Science. That's the key, I'm telling you. Taxes for Human Preservatives research! Get on it, Obama. Your polls aren't looking so hot, and it's time for a change. Oh, wait – You already used that line. Disregard.

By the way, I think it's only fair to inform anyone who's not yet familiar with me that I enjoy talking about fantastic things, many of which are subjects that I hardly know anything about, simply because they entertain me. Wait until you hear my Post-Revolutionary Poop idea. That'll really blow your hair back... or disgust you. One of the two. Or both, for brownie points. *Cough*

I also enjoy guiding conversations into lengthy tangents until participants are utterly bewildered and/or upset with me for not staying on topic. So before your patience upends itself...

Time brings change. And my, have I changed. A quick synopsis:

I began life as an angry child, regularly beating my siblings, getting into fist fights during school, and maintaining a fierce disrespect for my parents and teachers.


A radical change took place when I started high school and became more involved with my local church. I became a fun-loving socialite, literally living life without a care in the world. My high school years were spent in a thoughtless reverie of fun.

Shortly after high school, I joined the US Army as an Infantryman. Things rapidly took a turn for the worse as I became hardened and fashioned into an instrument of war. The events that I experienced and actively took part in during my military career have accounted for what I believe is irreparable change to my personality... but detailing those events is another story altogether, and one I won't likely share with many people for the remainder of my life.

Suffice it to say that I returned home from the military an apathetic, angst-ridden, belligerent, altogether unpleasant individual. Readjusting to civilian life was difficult. I felt very alone, and hated it, but paradoxically did everything I could to remain that way. Old friends that I had before I joined the military resurfaced in my life, but I cut them off and vigorously stomped their attempts at reconnecting into the dirt. The majority of my old friends stopped trying because, I imagine, they considered me a complete asshole. I don't blame them. I was a cold bastard. Those who stuck around regardless, I'm thankful for. And my family... I'm forever grateful to them. They are the one group of people who have always accepted me no matter what I became, how I acted towards them, or who I was; the one constant source of support in my life. Without their love and acceptance, I would surely have continued my descent to whatever end, down that dark and hateful path of self-destruction.

So now, nearly seven years later, the path to healing is thriving. I feel that I'm now living a productive life. I have very clear goals, and a steadfast desire to see them fulfilled. My ability to maintain healthy relationships has vastly improved (though there's always room for further improvement lol). I'm quitting smoking. I no longer rely on Christianity to supply me with happiness, but I'm making my own way – and it's an empowering experience. However, remnants of the past always remain, and this is where the "irreparable change" I mentioned before comes into play. There are still many moments when I find myself being drawn again towards that familiar darkness, always when I'm reminded of the Army. These are times when I become quiet and withdrawn, and all motivation to socialize, or work, or simply try, seeps out from my being and evaporates into the air. But always, I return. It may take some time, but I manage to make it out.

One of my long-term goals is to be able to think back on these things with a certain measure of impartiality. When I can remember without becoming emotionally and spiritually obliterated, I will have conquered the demon of demons that plagues my soul. Accomplishing this will take some time, but I'm confident that it is within reach.

I will beat it... so long as time allows.

-R

Inaugural Entry

Before I begin this blog entry, I'd like to take the time to thank all the mothers out there. It is Mother's Day, after all. Mother's Day is, in this writer's opinion, one of the more relevant and necessary holidays that we keep throughout the year. As all the trappings of every superfluous reason people have for celebrating some of these other holidays fades, a mother sits in the background constantly worrying her wrinkly little face off in an effort to support and protect her children.

My mother did her best to ensure, to the point of unbelievable sacrifice, that my siblings and I were provided for, and that the choices we made with our lives would lead to what she thought to be a good life. She was as careful as she could to foster our individual growth, and tried to cater her guidance according to what she believed would best benefit us due to our differences. Sure there were hard times, but in spite of her failures as a mother, and in recognition of her many successes as a mother, I have nothing but respect, love, and devotion for her. My mother will always hold a very special place in my heart that no force will be able to tear away. I'm eternally thankful to have been given life under her wing. For those of you who haven't yet ensured that your mother knows she's loved and appreciated, do it before it's too late.

That being said, stop being so damn overbearing all the time, Mom. Give it a rest, please, and stop driving me crazy. :)

Now that the obligatory Mother's Day blurb is out of the way...

Some – hopefully all – of you may have noticed the gigantoid word gracing the top of this blog page. Contemplacency. Yes, I made it up... though the term isn't entirely arbitrary. I've stayed true to the official trend of word-creating, and made my word out of two words that already exist: Contemplation and Complacency. Contemplation + Complacency = Contemplacency.

For those who need the root terms defined, I'll save you the trouble of finger-clicking your way through an online dictionary (or flipping through a traditional paper dictionary – bravo if you have one of those, by the way).
According to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, "Contemplation" is defined as an act of considering with attention.
"Complacency" is defined as self-satisfaction, especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies.

Now, why would anyone want to string these two seemingly unrelated words together? What unifying concept could they create? Good questions, my friends. I know you're absolutely trembling with anticipation to find out... :P Well, I have four words that will make you spin with joy: "I have an answer".

I believe that regular brain-flexing is necessary to keep one's mind sharp. The moment a person becomes too comfortable with the way things are and stops evaluating their environment, they take the first step into the festering pool of sweaty, lazy eyed, drool-caked, mentally obese oblivion. If you can imagine an 800 lb. dude struggling to roll over, that situation could be the physical equivalent to the non-thinker's state of mind when faced with the now insurmountable task of thinking abstractly. A person who has been reduced to this state of mind has fallen into a state of contemplacency, no longer contemplating things, complacent with a sense of security that will only betray them in the end.

Contemplacency is a bad thing.

Contemplacency is also my fucking home.

I trap myself all too often by giving into the temptation to shut off my mind, and only when I feel my limp brain-noodles flopping around aimlessly in my skull and my entire head feels as if it's covered in a 6-inch layer of chloroform do I kick myself in the ass and begin to make the steep climb out of my thoughtless abyss. This blog is an attempt at helping myself claw up and out of the intermittent pits of slimy mental funk that I seem to get myself into all too often.

Want to come along for the ride? You're more than welcome.