Unnecessary Air

"It is equally important to listen as it is to speak."

-Sarah Kay

The words she spoke were pointless. They didn't matter, not even to her. She spoke them to fill the silence, to avoid the transition between topics when there's an uncertain pause. Those moments made her cringe with the pain of not knowing what to do or say.  She'd speak the day away if no one jumped in. She'd speak if no one was listening. She hated the sound of her own voice. It was too high and nasally to accept. Why did she keep speaking, you may ask? She wanted to drown out her thoughts by always saying something. No one really cared. About her opinions that weren't educated. About her beliefs that weren't true. About her perspective that wasn't hers. It was a mirror of what she thought she wanted to reflect in her life and those around her. It was all smoke, a distraction from who she wanted to be, from who she was supposed to be. The valuable lesson came upon her one day when her friend mentioned that she should try listening to those around her instead of only to herself. For the first time in years, she actually heard someone else say something. For the first time, she actually listened and took in another person's words. Since that fateful moment, she no longer fills a room with unnecessary air. She laughs, smiles, and waits her turn. She formulates her opinions through hearing other people's perspectives and reading what's happening. She learned those awkward pauses aren't meant to be painful, they're meant for one to think. Hearing someone is as important as wanting to be heard.

Early Morning Writing - Fiction

"They’ll eat your heart alive 

Every time."

—	Jack Kerouac

As I write these words, my hands are shaking while pressing the keys. I don't know why they just are. I've had a few drinks and I don't know how much sense this will make. You see, I like to try and impress people with what I have to say. Rocky Mountain High by John Denver plays in the background. He's a good singer and sings good songs, songs that remind you of home or the good old days. This song, in particular, reminds me of the moments where I've experienced the wonders of this magical, mysterious earth we're lucky to call our home. Kerouac always writes honest words. I've been dabbling with the quote on the top of the page for a couple of weeks now. I've memorized this quote, trying to make sense of the deeper meanings. I read somewhere that Kerouac was Buddist, I'm not sure how accurate that is but his writing holds something special, something behind the words, it takes some time to peel away to find. Each person who does will find a different meaning. Meaning stems from the perspective of opinion, bias, and other life experience from our childhood and passions. We, each see the life through different eyes and process it as though we're the only ones here. We're alone with each other and yet we can find beautiful moments together. Humanity is mostly good, or so I tell myself to stay sane amongst the chaos that is this society. What is happening with America and the news and the endless conversation that leads us nowhere but back to the beginning of being completely confused? Did the fathers who begin this country imagine this is where we would be now? Fighting and hating one another because of our beliefs? What makes you right and me wrong? What causes these disagreements anyway? Why can't we see what we have in common instead of what we don't? How much longer can we stand for this? It's only been a year since this loser took office and we haven't improved our communication. We've only gotten worse. I guess you know who I voted for. Or maybe you don't. I wasn't planning on writing this to get political. But everything today revolves around talking about politics or the fighting about not believing one another. Why can't the government get anything accomplished if we're focusing too much on the wrong things? The stories constantly circling in the media, within both major party beliefs, aren't productive. How can we be productive? How can we accept one another without our differences blinding our motives? We need to be better. We need to work better. We need to be held accountable for our actions and learn how to do better. Respect. We need to teach respect. We need to learn to respect each other more than we need to focus on the difference between us. Anyway. The Kerouac quote has been swirling around in my thoughts for a few weeks. I think I mentioned it earlier. I'm too tired to go back and read. I think I did. He's right, Kerouac is. You can't expect to write something and have everyone loves it. I want to impress people. I don't impress myself often and my writing is where I can grab people's attention and have them listen for a few minutes. If you've gotten this far, I'm impressed. You've done better than me. I won't be reading this. Ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes. Blame the alcohol. The best excuse there is. What I'm trying to get at and I promise I'll stop as soon as I get this out. You gotta do what makes you happy and make the most out of what you love. There will be some people who will bring you down no matter what you do. Ignore them. They will eat your heart out every time. Don't take it personally. They don't have what you do. Get back up and show them their ignorant, biased criticism means nothing to you or what you want to do. Find songs that bring out memories and moments you've forgotten about. As I was writing the last few sentences, Jimi Hendrix's live version of Rolling Stone came on. Bob Dylan is an artist and whenever I listen to him, childhood car rides flash through my mind. Oh, the innocence. When the only thing that existed was the lyrics and the never-ending sea of landscape between one state another that rarely changes until you're far enough away from home. Jimi's version is magic, perfectly aligning with Dylan's lyrics. Artist meets another artist with a distinct understanding, nothing is set in stone except for what you're doing now. I'm going to go refill my glass. If you made it this far, you deserve a drink as well. It doesn't have to be alcohol, it can be tea or terrible coffee or water or whatever fancy thing you have in your fridge. Okay, be right back. 

Keys to Locked Doors - Fiction

“Words are more treacherous and powerful than we think.”

— Jean-Paul Sartre 

Once the words fell from her lips, there was no going back. There was no questioning, no wondering the intent of her purpose in this life. She spoke the truth after using up all the lies. Words touch the soul hold more significance than hands touching the naked body. The stars sparkled above her as she lay on the dock alone, watching the universe shift as the moon moved from one horizon to another. Shooting stars lit up her mind, like moments filling up her summer life. Words hold the keys to different doors she had yet to explore, yet to know, yet to see. It's silly, actually. How words contained in thoughts can make the stomach flutter with joy or nerves. How seeing isn't believing and knowing is never quite certain. She thought she knew but she wasn't sure. Unlocking the door, the key didn't budge. The danger of words is that once they're let out into the universe, they are free to go wild and take on a life of their own. There's no stopping how others will think of them. Floating in and out of ears, the words that fell from her lips were no longer hers. They left just as summer began to fade into autumn. She learned the hard way. Speaking without thinking with full meaning will release emotions that were bottled up for too long. Words got stuck in her throat, she almost choked. The door vanished. The life she had dreamed for herself shifted. Looking up at the stars on the dock as a soft wind blew, she no longer dreamed of love. Instead, she dreamed of what she could become.  

Stranger's Eyes

Today, I unexpectedly looked into a stranger's eyes

as he passed by me,

a moment of connection

that sparked then faded away,

no flames were made.

His eyes were blue,

like the light sea.

He was walking

as I stood,

waiting.

Waiting for my car to fill up,

waiting for the snow to come this way.

A moment of eyes

meeting went nowhere.

He was gone before I could think.