I know, I know, terrible title. But I felt the piece I just published needed to be seen as its own. So this is the preface to that piece. I split into Italics for a reason, see if you can figure it out. Other than that I'll let the piece do the talking. Enjoy!
Godspeed
-T.F.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Something Beautiful
It’s not often that a moment of pure emotion happens. Yet, these moments are the ones that we as humans cherish most. Every second, it seems, is captured in our imagination. To remember, to cherish, to understand.
Love envelops the entirety of emotion. It’s back and forth nature, its pure form, they strengthen the bonds we have. It has never been possible to not know that you are in love. The heart-wrenching, skin-tingling, blood-pumping, single most powerful feeling in the world happens only so rarely. And when it does, that is something beautiful. When that delicate face turns to look, when those eyes sparkling a bright dart across, when the bounce in their laugh rings in the air, when their soft skin brushes yours, and you make eye contact in the most astounding and inspiring glance of your life. That is something beautiful.
But in a world full of such sensitive powers, only so much can exist. One day. One word. One moment. So brief an instant, and yet gone with it: that soft skin, that bouncing laugh, those darting eyes, that delicate face. It is so easy to lose all of it. So quickly can one mistake lead to other, can one word derail thousands of others, one simple little phrase, can change an entire lifetime. It only takes a moment to realize what you had, but in that moment, love is only what you had.
It is in those moments, when only emotion takes over your body, when only your heart speaks to you, when that foolish device called logic waits its turn, that so much changes. Too many times have you looked back and not given your all. Too many times have you given up and let her go. Too many times have you sat around on your ass, because your brain said let her go, there will be another one.
There will never be another one like her. There will never come someone who knows my secrets like she does. No one will ever learn what it means to conquer my heart, for only she has. No one will know what it means to be there at god-knows what hour, just because. I shares thoughts often, I rarely share emotion. But one person knows what that means to me. No one will know what it is to dream an impossible dream, and feel each day one step closer to the physical realization of that dream. No one will ever kiss with such precious lips with a passion that means more than the kiss. Only she is, only she does. There will never be anyone like her.
The understanding that she will never return is heart-wrenching. To lose love, means losing a life. A life that you have come to build with that delicate face, whose eyes dart, whose laugh bounces, whose skin brushes gently on yours. If that is lost. What is there left? But love is never lost. The memories of those eyes, that laugh, the skin, that delicate intense face live on. The joy of love knows no tense. If you loved, you still love. Let those moments of love never be lost. It is in those reflective moments of emotion that love lives on. Those moments are rare. Those moments are necessary.
And in those moments, when the memories of love come flooding back in. And a smile crosses your face, and your blood starts pumping, and your skin starts tingling, and your heart starts warming, that is when you see your love again. You have not lost her yet, she loved you back, she loves you more. Love: That is something beautiful.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Lindsey Stirling
I've been meaning to say. Lindsey Stirling. Because, well, Lindsey Stirling. If you don't know who that is, the you need some major help: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6LD2B_kDQ
In Which I Write on Materialism, My Beloved Red Sox, and Latin
Let's go backwards.
Topic one: Latin.
It sucks. It's hard, translation is awful. There. Topic one, done.
Topic two: My Beloved Red Sox.
They have not always been beloved that is for damn sure. I spent the greater part of two years hating their guts and their seeming inability to play as a team. Sure, professional sports are incredibly hard and require precise talent, and immense mental stability. But, these guys were all kids who grew up and learned how to play as a team. I take a look back and I see the old "Cowboy Up!" team of '03 and the World Series winning team of '04 and I feel the chemistry in me. There was something special about those teams. They were not teams filled with ten hall-of-famers, they had few All-Stars. They were teams of Kevin Millar, Tim Wakefield, Jason Varitek, the leaders on and off the field. The so-called clubhouse guys. And as I watch this season's team, I am beginning to get a sense of that kind of team. I watched a game tonight, where Mike Napoli doubles into the right field corner, and the first thing he does standing up on the base is point to the dugout and give a thumbs up. This team has heart, they have soul, and they are learning how to win games. I say learning because even at 12-6 they have lost a few extra inning games that they had won. But this team is good. He currently is not on the roster, but Jackie Bradley Jr. (JBJ-he will pop up in this blog again) will make a difference on this team. As much as I resented the $39 million they gave Mike Napoli, I like seeing him play in a Red Sox uniform. And the other members of the clubhouse that I don't even need to mention are playing the way they should and can. My Red Sox, the team that I grew up dreaming about every night before I went to bed, have come back. They are my beloved Red Sox. I still dream of stepping out onto Fenway's grass with the Red and White on. And this team, a fun team to watch, a team I can believe in and have faith in, has brought that dream back to life. Play Ball.
Topic three: Materialism.
I am too over tired to elaborate much on the subject tonight, however I have begun a thought process that scares me a little. The existential question in life, "Do we, as humans, matter?" Scientifically, no. Spiritually, yes? The bottom line is that to ponder this question in the most logical sense, a sense Descartes might use, would be to put the entirety of existence into perspective. I am a man. I am one of 7 billion on Earth. Earth is a planet in a space that is theoretically infinite, thus Earth is one of and infinite number. To put that in perspective, if you had an infinite wall of blue pool balls, just blue no number, and you had one red one, what is the significance of that red ball? Nothing. Simply nothing. And, if everything is in perspective, this life means nothing. Yet, if this life means nothing, what do we live for? We do not, cannot know whether there is in fact an afterlife. If that is the case, where do we go? Why do we continue to exist. This is the core of Materialism, and even further Nihilism. I have no idea where my thought on this subject will go next. All I know right now is that I know nothing. "Now...darkness" -Evegeni Vasilich Bazarov, Chapter 28, Fathers and Children, Ivan Turgenev
Godspeed
-T.F.
Topic one: Latin.
It sucks. It's hard, translation is awful. There. Topic one, done.
Topic two: My Beloved Red Sox.
They have not always been beloved that is for damn sure. I spent the greater part of two years hating their guts and their seeming inability to play as a team. Sure, professional sports are incredibly hard and require precise talent, and immense mental stability. But, these guys were all kids who grew up and learned how to play as a team. I take a look back and I see the old "Cowboy Up!" team of '03 and the World Series winning team of '04 and I feel the chemistry in me. There was something special about those teams. They were not teams filled with ten hall-of-famers, they had few All-Stars. They were teams of Kevin Millar, Tim Wakefield, Jason Varitek, the leaders on and off the field. The so-called clubhouse guys. And as I watch this season's team, I am beginning to get a sense of that kind of team. I watched a game tonight, where Mike Napoli doubles into the right field corner, and the first thing he does standing up on the base is point to the dugout and give a thumbs up. This team has heart, they have soul, and they are learning how to win games. I say learning because even at 12-6 they have lost a few extra inning games that they had won. But this team is good. He currently is not on the roster, but Jackie Bradley Jr. (JBJ-he will pop up in this blog again) will make a difference on this team. As much as I resented the $39 million they gave Mike Napoli, I like seeing him play in a Red Sox uniform. And the other members of the clubhouse that I don't even need to mention are playing the way they should and can. My Red Sox, the team that I grew up dreaming about every night before I went to bed, have come back. They are my beloved Red Sox. I still dream of stepping out onto Fenway's grass with the Red and White on. And this team, a fun team to watch, a team I can believe in and have faith in, has brought that dream back to life. Play Ball.
Topic three: Materialism.
I am too over tired to elaborate much on the subject tonight, however I have begun a thought process that scares me a little. The existential question in life, "Do we, as humans, matter?" Scientifically, no. Spiritually, yes? The bottom line is that to ponder this question in the most logical sense, a sense Descartes might use, would be to put the entirety of existence into perspective. I am a man. I am one of 7 billion on Earth. Earth is a planet in a space that is theoretically infinite, thus Earth is one of and infinite number. To put that in perspective, if you had an infinite wall of blue pool balls, just blue no number, and you had one red one, what is the significance of that red ball? Nothing. Simply nothing. And, if everything is in perspective, this life means nothing. Yet, if this life means nothing, what do we live for? We do not, cannot know whether there is in fact an afterlife. If that is the case, where do we go? Why do we continue to exist. This is the core of Materialism, and even further Nihilism. I have no idea where my thought on this subject will go next. All I know right now is that I know nothing. "Now...darkness" -Evegeni Vasilich Bazarov, Chapter 28, Fathers and Children, Ivan Turgenev
Godspeed
-T.F.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
P.S. - Oh
Well, apparently the formatting when I write is DIFFERENT when I publish. It's things like that, that I hate. I'll get into hate later. It's not as bad as many people think. Anyway, sorry about the formatting issues in the first post. I'm working on that...
Here Goes Nothing and Genesis
To those of you reading this: Hooray for you. Secondly, anything I say in this blog can and will be
held against you. Thirdly, welcome to my life.
In short, this blog is not really about "getting out there", or being social in a non-social way, if that makes any sense. It's about a guy, who is very bored and wants something somewhat meaningful to do. So here goes nothing.
I'm going to make two statements: 1. I promise not to vent/rant/rage/write in all caps.
2. I break promises occasionally.
In all seriousness this is me: I try too hard to be funny (I will kill jokes, trust me), I love music (my taste includes metal, broadway, and Jason Mraz to give you and understanding), and I LOVE baseball. I'm a chaotic mix of energy, curiosity, and hate. So there. Now you know me, even if you didn't want to.
And now for my creation story:
In the beginning, There was me. And I would say that I was divinely inspired to write this, but I would be lying. I was inspired by a couple of incredible people (some of the few I don't hate, but more on that in future blogs) whose blogs you can find here and here. I was inspired to write because well, I've always hated it. I hate writing with a burning passion, yet somehow it never leaves my life. So if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. This blog is a challenge. It's a challenge to be a better writer, it's a challenge to find time for it, it's a challenge to not blast the entire world in my first post, and it's a challenge to get more page views that C.K. Writerman. I hope that with the creation of this blog, I am doing something that, for once, I will keep up with and not abandon within a week.
And seeing as certain homework related items call me, I finish there. However, more to come, more to give. Goodnight, good luck!
Godspeed!
-T.F.
held against you. Thirdly, welcome to my life.
In short, this blog is not really about "getting out there", or being social in a non-social way, if that makes any sense. It's about a guy, who is very bored and wants something somewhat meaningful to do. So here goes nothing.
I'm going to make two statements: 1. I promise not to vent/rant/rage/write in all caps.
2. I break promises occasionally.
In all seriousness this is me: I try too hard to be funny (I will kill jokes, trust me), I love music (my taste includes metal, broadway, and Jason Mraz to give you and understanding), and I LOVE baseball. I'm a chaotic mix of energy, curiosity, and hate. So there. Now you know me, even if you didn't want to.
And now for my creation story:
In the beginning, There was me. And I would say that I was divinely inspired to write this, but I would be lying. I was inspired by a couple of incredible people (some of the few I don't hate, but more on that in future blogs) whose blogs you can find here and here. I was inspired to write because well, I've always hated it. I hate writing with a burning passion, yet somehow it never leaves my life. So if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. This blog is a challenge. It's a challenge to be a better writer, it's a challenge to find time for it, it's a challenge to not blast the entire world in my first post, and it's a challenge to get more page views that C.K. Writerman. I hope that with the creation of this blog, I am doing something that, for once, I will keep up with and not abandon within a week.
And seeing as certain homework related items call me, I finish there. However, more to come, more to give. Goodnight, good luck!
Godspeed!
-T.F.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)