The Gila Desert…

Another night where I woke up not knowing what the fuck I was, only to find that I was in my own bed, in my own apartment. I’m not sure what led me to this but I do know that it needs to stop, I can’t keep doing this to my body. I got out of bed and purged into my bathroom sink. After I looked up into the mirror to see an unrecognizable man with blood stained teeth and blue eyes that were jumping across a pale face. I fell to the floor in a less than graceful collapse sobbing and punching the frigid tiles beneath me.

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” I subtly urged out between my teeth as if they were wired shut.

I immediately went into my room and began to pack my bag, not knowing where I’d go, I just knew that I needed to get out of the city without anyone knowing. Otherwise they would try to talk me out of it…and honestly I probably would have let them. I called for my car and when it arrived the driver greeted me with a surprised voice and uneasy look upon his face that combined both shock and disapproval. I wasn’t offended due to how shitty I looked at the time, I mean my hear was unkempt, my white shirt stained and God only knows what else, plus the fact that it was 4am and I was unreasonably incoherent. I practically fell into the town car and passed out.

When I awoke we were arriving at JFK, still, I had no idea of what I could go to get away from this lifestyle. I poured my body out of the car -onto the tarmat and into the plane; when the piolet uttered he words I had been anticipating in the meer 30 seconds from which it took me to get up the steps,

“where we off to?

I squeezed out one word…

“Phoenix.”

5 1/2 hours later I was walking off the plane to what could only be described as a brick wall of sunlight and heat directly in my face. Although it was a cold summers morning in New York it was quite the opposite at 10am in Arizona, for which I had not been prepared. I figured the first thing on my itinerary would e finding a place to star, and fate led me to the Hotel San Carlos in downtown Phoenix. In my bed I spent the next two days fighting through the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life. My bones felt as if they were cracking into pieces with my every movement. So I laid, as stationary as I possibly could for the rest of the day. At around 1am I couldn’t take it anymore, I needed to get out of the hotel room, and this bed. I got up and blankly took a shower. After I decided to go outside and see the sights of Phoenix and it was when I reached the streets that I really felt alive for the first time in six months, and although it was a Monday and there was really nothing to see it was the most beautiful thing you could imagine. I went back to my room and decided that the next day I wanted to go out to the desert. The next morning I woke up and rented a car to take me to the Sonoran Desert, or as some locals referred to it as the Gila Desert.

When I got there I jumped out of the freshly parked automobile to see what I had only imagined since I was a kid and wanted to be a cowboy. Thick sands, and actual cactus plants! In fact what I was standing there it took me back to my childhood. Growing up a lower middle-class kid on a culdesac in the North East. I’d always wanted more than what I had…for what? To nearly kill myself. I almost broke down recalling the past year, my fathers death, my divorce. Everything had turned to shit so quickly. It was then that I realized what everyone was telling me all along,

“weath and success lie in the devils pont and once you go in, you never come back out.”

I now understand that all the money in the world couldn’t satisfy a 24 year old, couldn’t bring someone back from the dead, or even save a marriage.

I think it ws then that I finally found my heart…and it was no longer in New York City, it was on a ranch in the middle of the Gila Desert.

X|DR

3 Skills You Need to Have to Become Successful…by a 19 y/o College Student with a Culm. GPA of (aprox) 1.9

While living for the past 19 years of my life, the first 19 years of my life, I’ve noticed three things, three skills that –I feel everyone person needs to have in order to become successful in whatever they do. The first skill I would advise you hone is commitment, and the earlier the better. One trait that young and successful people all share is that they all committed to their passion at an early age. Whether they did community service and/or volunteer work early on in order to spice up their college transcript or résumé, they dropped everything to pursue their dream earl on. Commitment shows how serious –and lack of commitment shows how un-serious one may be about their future. For example a person comes up to you and says they want to become a racecar driver but when you ask them information pertaining to racecar driving they don’t have anything to tell you. You would probably laugh at them.

The second skill is being prepared. If you are ready for anything, you’re ready for everything. So in what ways can you prepare yourself?

[Remember one can never be prepared for everything]

The first thing one can do is keep a sound mind, in other words, keep your cool.  While writing this section, the motto “never let them see you sweat” came into mind and holds true. For example let’s pretend you and a friend are driving somewhere, (point A to point B). Your friend has entrusted in you the knowledge of how to get to your destination and for that reason there is no need for a GPS. While on your way to point B there is a detour, in which point B (the end of your destination) is now point C. You don’t know how to get from B to C now; however, (if you have good directional sensibility) you tell your friend that you know exactly where you’re going. Why? If you would tell your friend that you had no idea now, you would loose credibility and therefore your friend would denounce any suggestion you made, even if it was correct, and in regards to your trip. This may also carry on to other aspects of your friendship, including ridicule. So when I repeat the motto again in the next sentence don’t forget it! Never let them see you sweat! Now realizing –through a sound mind- that sometimes in life, shit happens and although I can’t relate a motto to this instance I can tell you to save your money, because let’s face it, 90% of our problems could be resolved with a few —meaning a lot- dollars. Time and time again we hear stories about people running into a financial brick wall face first. It’s understood that you may not be able to save a lot of money, but saving is saving.

Now that you’ve committed to reading this whole thing and are prepared for what lies ahead I will tell you the last skill, rather, method of conveying, is execution. It’s all in your presentation, from meeting someone for the first time, to pitching an idea to a bunch of suits in a boardroom. Honing the aforementioned skills will make this come easily. You will be proficient and your audience will get the point. In committing you will have to put your heart and soul into what you’re doing (presentation/pitch) and after you are fully prepared your body will be completely relaxed and you can relay your thoughts sharply to your audience. These three skills are not only what it takes, but they are three skills that will put you on the path to success. Use them, share them, but most importantly, live your fucking life by them.

A day in a coffee shop (draft)

There she was, again. Only this time she sat at the table aside of me. I could smell her perfectly, of which I am of no complaint. She’d be coming in here now for a few weeks, but I haven’t been able to oblige her. I didn’t want to take her; no she wasn’t the type of girl you take out into the alley and fuck. I wanted to please her in ways unimaginable. I remember the first day she came in as if it were yesterday … I could tell the first time she came in that it wasn’t by choice, yet still at her worst she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever lay my eyes upon. The only thing that I could compare her beauty to is a vineyard in the French Countryside, in August, around four p.m. with a subtle breeze. Her hair caressed her face like a mother her newborn. Her skin was as pale as snow, only adding to the attraction really. I’ve never held so much remorse for life that has not been my own as I had for hers. Yet, I thought to myself “I don’t even know her name.” But she knows mine. Everyone knows who I am. I’ve seemed to make the mistake of gaining fame. We would be perfect together; she’d be pleasant to spend eternity with. I could never truly love her, not because I’m a dick or anything, but every woman I’ve ever loved has died some sort of poetically tragic death. My mother of a broken heart and my sister of an automobile accident, in Europe. Weak hearts run rampant in my family. There have been others but I feel the need to entertain. I tried to keep my distance in fear that she’d get hurt; I always seem to look out for other’s wellbeing moreso than my own, even with my “lacking respect for human life.” Suddenly I heard something hit the floor, and as suddenly as I did I suddenly heard the most beautiful, soft, almost desperate but still strong and independent voice say, “I apologize, I can’t believe I did that.” She’d spilled her coffee all over the floor, and my leg. I hadn’t even noticed, I think that’s because I didn’t want to probably. I replied, “Oh, no it’s fine, really, it happens all the time.” In reality, it doesn’t happen all the time. IT never happened before in my life. With that I stood up and walked out. But when I got outside I’d realized what I’d just done, how she must feel. I couldn’t go back in, what if she…. No quickly than I walked out the door did she follow. “I’m really sorry you know!” She almost shouted. “I know.” I said, in a sarcastic sort of ass-tic method in a last ditch attempt in pushing her away completely. With that she introduced herself. “I’m Mireille.” It was as if she was impervious to my attacks. “That’s a very nice name Mireille” I replied, figuring her opinion of me could only get worse. “And you are” she questioned. “Is this a fucking interrogation?” I snapped. A stunned look spread across her face and at that she went back inside. It killed me to do that. What was I afraid of, other than the aforementioned of course.

Last night.

Yesterday was overall - I must say - a pretty extraordinary day to be living in Pennsylvania. Well, not only PA, but in Allentown, PA.Yesterday was the first day of President Barack Obama’s ‘Main Street’ tour, and of all places Allentown was first on his list. This keeps getting better, bare with me. After I’d found out Mr. Obama was coming to Allentown, it was released on Friday November 27th, 2009 that he would be making a stop at LCCC, which so happens to be the college I attend! Although I was not able to watch him speak I was able to show my support outside in the field as he drove passed. Just being there, seeing the 10 car motorcade drive passed, and all the smiling faces was worth it all to me. Later that afternoon it was unclear if my friend and I were going or not going to run to Hoboken, NJ in the afternoon so I decided that instead of going home I’d check out some places in Allentown that I had not until recently known existed. I had went to this coffee shop on 19th Street called Hava Java to wait for my friend to call me to arrange plans. At around 2:30pm, as I am flipping through SPIN magazine the owner of said coffee shop comes running in shouting “Obama’s coming! Obama’s coming!” which had been quite a coincidence, however the secret service had only been prepping the area in case he had time to stop by. Close but close only counts in horseshoes and grenades - or so I’ve been told.

After the President left the area I made my way over a few streets to my Friend’s house and from there we ventured to Bethlehem to go to Christkindlmarkt which was a mix of overpriced goodies from Germany and a joke. From there we decided to walk about this old city. When coming back down to Main street through an unmarked alley, the streets looked more as if we were in downtown Paris. After getting back to the car we decided to go to a “Secret - kind of - venue where my Friend had played a show. To our amazement there was a show going on. There were a few bands playing, the best one - in my opinion - was Elder, a band that hails from the lands of Philadelphia, PA. It would be a disservice to yourself if you didn’t look them up.

Like before, Forever and Always…

X|DR

The Wildflower…

It is there that you will find people drinking wine from the bottle It is there that you will find people drinking a six pack of cheap beer It is there you will find that they do not sell alcohol It is there you will find peace It is there you can find hate, if you look hard enough It is there that you will hear some of the best music that you will never hear again It is here you will be sure to have a good time.

A day in a Coffee Shop

There she was, again. Only this time she sat at the table aside of me. I could smell her perfectly, of which I am of no complaint. She’d be coming in here now for a few weeks, but I haven’t been able to oblige her. I didn’t want to take her; no she wasn’t the type of girl you take out into the alley and fuck. I wanted to please her in ways unimaginable. I remember the first day she came in as if it were yesterday … I could tell the first time she came in that it wasn’t by choice, yet still at her worst she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever lay my eyes upon. The only thing that I could compare her beauty to is a vineyard in the French Countryside, in August, around four p.m. with a subtle breeze. Her hair caressed her face like a mother her newborn. Her skin was as pale as snow, only adding to the attraction really and I’ve never held so much remorse for life that has not been my own as I had for hers. Yet, I thought to myself “I don’t even know her name.” But she knows mine. Everyone knows who I am. I’ve seemed to make the mistake of gaining fame. We would be perfect together; she’d be pleasant to spend eternity with. I could never truly love her, not because I’m a dick or anything, but every woman I’ve ever loved has died some sort of poetically tragic death. My mother of a broken heart and my sister of an automobile accident, in Europe. There have been others but I feel the need to entertain. I tried to keep my distance in fear that she’d get hurt; I always seem to look out for other’s wellbeing moreso than my own, even with my “lacking respect for human life.” Suddenly I heard something hit the floor, and as suddenly as I did I suddenly heard the most beautiful, soft, almost desperate but still strong and independent voice say, “I apologize, I can’t believe I did that.” She’d spilled her coffee all over the floor, and my leg. I hadn’t even noticed, I think that’s because I didn’t want to probably. I replied, “Oh, no it’s fine, really, it happens all the time.” In reality, it doesn’t happen all the time. It never happened before in my life. With that I stood up and walked out. But when I got outside I’d realized what I’d just done, how she must feel. I couldn’t go back in, what if she…. No quickly than I walked out the door did she follow. “I’m really sorry you know!” She almost shouted. “I know.” I said, in a sarcastic sort of ass-tic method in a last ditch attempt in pushing her away completely. With that she introduced herself. “I’m Mireille.” It was as if she was impervious to my attacks. “That’s a very nice name Mireille” I replied, figuring her opinion of me could only get worse. “And you are” she questioned. “Is this a fucking interrogation?” I snapped. A stunned look spread across her face and at that she went back inside. It killed me to do that. What was I afraid of, other than the aforementioned of course.

But I couldn’t bare living with what I’d just done to her. I walked back in as she was gathering her belongings in a rushed manner, and then she brushed passed me without a glance. I stood there, and stayed in pose for a 10 second moment that felt like an eternity. Not knowing what to do I sat down, psychologically beating myself into a metaphorical coma while I sat there for another hour staring at the Grateful Dead poster hanging on the wall.  Eventually I took my leave but only to walk; I walked for 50 blocks and ran the situation through my head over and over again thinking about the chances of ever seeing her again. But what if I did? What would I say? As I decided to wrangle a cab I saw her in a crowd of people walking down East 96th street; she looked as if she was a golden goddess and the rest of the citizens were her worshipers. My body froze. I wanted to run across the street and let fate take its course all while apologizing however my body said no, and I jumped into the cab.

When I got back to my apartment I did nothing. Getting out of bed the next morning felt as epic as Ulysses’ journey, but I accomplished it, eager to see if she’d be at the coffee shop. I sat there, waiting for her to come in, and I did that for days, and then days turned into weeks, until one afternoon I decided I wasn’t going to wait anymore, no…I was going to go find her. So the day after that I went to the place where I saw her on the street and to my surprise there she was. My heart felt as if it were going to burst through my rib cage and onto the New York City pavement. I didn’t rehearse what I was going to say to so I felt it would be a bad idea to go up to her now. But I couldn’t let this moment go, so I followed her, through Central Park and down 84^th street west to, finally, her destination, The Natural History Museum. When she entered the museum I tried to keep my distance but at the same time I stayed as close to her as I could without being noticeable. While she was eating lunch I felt the need to set at a good distance to watch her. I took notice that she ate everything counterclockwise, and while she was eating she started with the large portion of fruit, next her vegetables, and lastly a piece of pizza, which I thought was honorable. Her eating fashion could simply be characterized as beautifully animalistic, yet graceful to the point in which it drew me in and for a second I let my guard down and at that moment we locked eyes. She got up removing herself from the cafeteria about as quickly as a lightning bolt leaving her tray stationary and food uneaten. I quickly followed after her nearly shouting “wait!” I grabbed her right arm and she turned around, looked me square in the eyes and said nothing. I felt this to be an opportune time to introduce myself, “I’m Liam.” It was at that moment, for the first time since we spoke at the coffee shop that she smiled at me.

The rest of the day we spent together and by the end of the night I knew she was the girl that I wanted to be with forever. While I was walking her home, our hands intertwined, our fate together was sealed and I felt as if I’d known her my entire life. As we were nearing to her building she dropped to her knees, and I to mine, holding her in my arms as she was convulsing. A putrid, grime white foam came pouring from her mouth. Her bright blue eyes had now become a pale, almost gray haze. I sat with her, tears pouring down my face and yelled out as loud as I could for help, but there was nothing I could do anymore, nothing any doctor could do. She was gone. Eventually her eyes closed while I was shaking and rocking back and forth still holding her in my arms, but even in her last breath she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Like a vineyard on the French Countryside, in August, around four p.m.

Let’s be Thankful….for materialism?

Must admit I’m posting this a little after the fact but deal with it….

If nothing else I’ve learned this year that having one day, set aside to be thankful for the things we complain about 364 days of the year is quite the opposite of being thankful. In fact I think the holiday we call Thanksgiving is a downright joke. People shouldn’t have to have one day as if it were a giant pink post-it note to remind them to be thankful. To me this day is no less than a cop-out day to be free from all duties and see family, family whom some of us see all the time anyways, but for those who that doesn’t apply to I guess I’ll have to let you have your moment. If anything, today should be a reminder, to us that live in free and industrialized nations that we have the opportunity to nearly do anything we want, in terms of almost every aspect of our lives barring murder or other felonies. So the fact that we do complain about our jobs, our living situations, etc…etc…is rather ungrateful.

Tomorrow morning is, so-called, the 2nd biggest shopping day of the whole year, I admittedly will be taking part in the materialistic celebration, for a new tv. Buying into the pressure of having a wall mounted tv in every room of one’s household I am half way there. But is being materialistic a bad thing? At a first instance of being heard many ask themselves if they are indeed materialistic, most for the sake of modesty say no, lying to themselves, however I’d be remiss if I didn’t repeat. Is it bad to be materialistic? The peak of our materialism peaks the fourth Friday of November and ends about the First Friday of January, thus boosting the economy and making bratty kids (and some adults) happy. Both of which make living much more likable. So when I asked myself this question I answered….”Yes, I am quite materialistic, and by being so I am helping to restore my country’s fallen economy. So before one blames it’s leaders for not being able to fix the economy one should blame the materialistically challenged cheapskates in the world that are dropping the ball.

Happy Holidays (Don’t read into this)

X|DR