quelle est la prochaine

When I'm tired, then I'll sleep.

I walk on the metal grating on sidewalks because I am nervous about falling through them.

Neither of us know what's next for me.

Running a sprint as fast as I can is one of the best feelings.

Neither of us know what's next for me.

How am I to deal with so many choices and freedoms?

Il ne fait pas de mal...

I feel like if I ignore painful emotions they will go away.  

If something seems scary for me, I create the worse case scenario in my mind and play it in front of my face at full force until it quickly seems unlikely, or at least until I grow numb to the fear.  Then, I find that I soon won't notice the danger or cause of what is bothering me and can brush it off like an annoying bug.  For example, I like to pretend in my mind that I am jumping off of high places, convincing myself in every sense...right on the verge of my brain sending instructions to my muscles to physically jump...that I am leaping to my death until my heart and adrenaline calm.

If I hurt someone's feelings, and feel bad about my choices, I take consolation in that I tried to make it has gentle as possible and seek to focus on ANYTHING else that distracts me from the pain of guilt.  For example, I like to play video games and read books to escape the pain of breaking up with girls, because it takes my mind off of the memories of the "us" I severed.

If I am sad about something, I work to talk myself into discovering the root of my ache, and knocking it down and making it seem trivial.  For example, I can break down and cry hard for 5-10 seconds and quickly recover myself by ignoring the sadness because I realize it is only temporary.  I convince myself that it isn't worth the effort or emotion to be sad since it won't last.

I realize that my methods are probably not psychologically...likely even physically healthy.  I believe that as humans we have such a variety of emotions for a reason, and it is likely that feeling them is a natural occurrence.  But I have discovered a way of blocking out the negative and being slightly and realistically optimistic.  I have taught my body and mind to react a certain way to situations, and I adore my malleability.  Only later did I discover the philosophical school of Stoicism, and find that I am far from the only person who uses this approach in their lives.

memories of autumn

Directly in front of the door of our house was a persimmon tree.  I remember my dad put my brother, sister, and I in the bucket of the tractor to pick the fruit during November.  We would be lifted up and moved around to all parts of the tree to harvest as much as we could, dropping the persimmon berries around our feet.  I think my mom used to make a jam out of them, but I recall that I didn't care for the taste.  

The air was usually starting to feel crisp, and I remember brimming with excitement because of the coming of the holidays and change of environment.  Maybe autumn is my favourite season.

I had my appendix removed when I was 11, and I missed a week of school that November.  Fighting boredom, one morning I sat on the front step of the house with my bb gun, looking for some target to practice with.  There was a woodpecker in that same persimmon tree, knocking away about 40ft from me.  I cocked up my gun, took aim, and missed.  The bird seemed to only slightly notice the shot flying past him, but then continued pecking noisily away.  

I cocked, took aim, and remembered my dad mentioning to breathe out when taking a shot to keep steady.  I squeezed the trigger, raising my eyebrows.  I knew I hit the bird, but he didn't move.  The bird stopped moving and remained still...suddenly he leaned forward and turned upside down, resembling a door hinge with his feet locked onto the branch.  After a second he dropped to the ground.  I paced over to my kill of this little bird, I noticed he seemed so much smaller up close.  

My shot went right to his head.  I assumed he must of been killed instantly and his body stiffened, contributing to his silly death flop.  I felt bad seeing him there on the ground in the front yard.  Even by that age, through growing up on a farm and hunting, I had ended plenty of animals before, but I hadn't killed one needlessly.  I don't like personifying animals, and I don't think the bird had any feelings, but I felt remorse for taking his life for no reason.  The woodpecker was alive and well only 20 seconds before, going about his instinctive work...and I ended him only because I had the power to.  I learned something that autumn day which I will never forget.

Little bit

repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat

I adore intellectuals

I got into a recent discussion about destiny, and was asked for my thoughts...

Ask yourself if it is really irrational if human beings all around the world share the common notion that there is something bigger and more sacred than themselves?  That there are places where our ancestors and loved ones go?  Is that ignorant and irrational if there perhaps is a complex in our brain that wires us to imagine such a thing?  I think even atheists want to believe in something, they just need more proof.  I do not think that everything happens for a reason, but I feel that there are currents and flows that lead in a deterministic kind of way.  I don't know if we have destinies, and I'm glad that I don't know; it leaves more room for free will, but at the same time encourages the fact that we may have the ability to be parts of something significant.  And I think that is what humans want.  We want our lives to be significant...that our struggles, works, and experiences matter...to know we left a mark.  This ties back into the belief in something that you can't see, because since most of us are unsure that we are significant while we are living on earth, we hope that there is something beyond us that will resonate and give us the ability to look back and see that we did matter.

I've been here before

Yes indeed, sometimes it takes a collection of experiences for better or worse to understand what it is we truly want to do with our work.  I've found out for me that it has been a deductive process, and although I like it here in DC, I have come to realize that I want to help people who need help rather than helping those that don't.

For a career, I would like to use my experiences in languages, travel, and cultural/religious sensitivity in an ideal world.  But ultimately I feel that it is important for me to want to feel good at the end of the day of work, knowing my labours and activities have made a positive difference in at least one person's life.  Furthermore, I believe that helping others is motivational, working in this niche has always inspired me and given me encouragement and passion when getting up in the morning. 

But my social life outside of work right now is disappointing.  I partake in the teamwork and the niceties of my colleagues at work, but I know that they don't believe nor want the same things out of life that I do.  There is nothing wrong with their goals and aspirations, but I wonder how I can live and work in a social community in which I struggle to find common ground.  What is important and meaningful for an individual has the potential to move mountains, and ideally if I can work with others who share the same passions, that fervour can aid me in feeling as though I am working for something bigger than myself.

I'm positive now that I want to be back home, around my family and friends, but I have no regrets.  I've currently been looking at Catholic Charities in both Dallas and Ft. Worth, talking with both offices about volunteer opportunities to get a foot in the door, but this doesn't pay the bills.  I'm willing to get a hold of something temporarily to make ends meet and pay my student loans while I spend my spare-time wisely in working towards my career goals.  I would say the same situation is plausible here in DC, but I'd rather be around people who love me back home in the meantime.

A Coming Home

One of my favourite memories I have was being a a little kid waiting for my dad to come home from work.  I remember asking mom constantly "What time is daddy coming home?".  Vividly I recall that it was about 6:15pm or so every day, he had a little over an hour commute back home from Dallas.  I would play with my toys at the window sill that faced the driveway, so I could see when his little tan truck would pull up.  As soon as he'd open his door I would shout through the window screen: "Daddy's home!" I think I did that so that he would know I saw him, and so that my mom would know I noticed him first.

I remember he would put his key chain between his teeth and shake his head, making a goofy face and rattling the keys at me in the window.  I'd run to the front door and wait for him to come in, soon jumping on his foot and wrapping my arms and legs around one of his legs.  He seemed like such a giant back then.  He'd take a step or two with me clinging tightly on, to then greet my mother, where they would say to each other "Hi honey" and exchange their usual three quick kisses.  Dinner was normally about ready, and my dad might pick me up and pretend that he was going to eat me because he was hungry.  

This routine lasted a few years, until I got older.  My mom and dad to this day still do the exact same exchange.  It's funny how no matter how much some things change, there are these comforting constants that always seem remain the same.  I hope one day to relive memories like this, maybe as a father myself?

Game 5

Photo by Harry How/Getty Images

Outside of Benoit and Valverde, Detroit you have no bullpen.  You have a good, maybe even great pitching staff, that has been able to lock down most of the length of games for you to beat opponents.

The problem is that you are facing probably the most dangerous lineup in baseball 1-9.  The Texas Rangers have the ability to wear out and/or hit any pitcher in the game.  Pitchers, no matter how dominant they are, don't carry a 0.00 ERA over time; they give up runs at some point.   Furthermore, the Rangers are in a sense changing the way baseball is played in that they are showing that a significantly deep bullpen can carry your team.  Quality Starts have been irrelevant as the club is now 6-2 this post season with no pitcher going beyond 6.0 innings, which was once.

The Texas Rangers have statistically and athletically the best team left in the playoffs.  But in the end, it's all speculative.  Guys preform or they don't.  

Oh my Rangers, I can't believe you guys are doing this again.  I'm so proud!

it's heavy

Three of them I've hurt so bad.  With each one, there was at least one moment where through their tears and whimpers they looked me in the eyes and said "Ryan...please, don't do this to me."  "Ryan come back, please...come back" "Come back to me...please don't leave me..."

I never had an answer.  And again with each one I looked down, unable to see that face in anguish because of me.  For them, my lack of an answer did not mean "Yes I'll come back to you", but it didn't mean "No" either.  Jamie, Katie, and Julie each clung to hope so tightly.  They believed in 'us' so much.

A part of me always wanted to stay, almost solely on the fact that I didn't want to hurt them.  A part of me wanted to be everything that they wanted, be that Ryan that they fell for, and love them just as madly as they loved me.  They deserved no less. 

I never thought I'd find myself in that situation again after Jamie.  But I did again, and again.  It hurts me knowing that I hurt them, and no amount of comfort in "experience" or "wasn't meant to be" makes the pain any weaker.  I know that they forgive me, but their begging, and the words "Ryan you are my everything" resonates in my thoughts and dreams.