Enjoy...

This photo is named "Kellie Pickler" and I'm almost certain that most of my friends would not understand why, well, not before a quick Google search. I found this photo while riffling through my One-A-Day album on Facebook and naming each photo, something I'd previously neglected to do. I found that the thoughts that flooded my mind each time I switched to a new one, if verbalized, may have sounded bizarre but somewhere in a crevice in my mind, they made all the sense in the world. It's all a matter of appreciation, I think.

Kellie Pickler's 'Red High Heels' is still one of my favorite contemporary country songs. Yes, that's right. I said contemporary, meaning I like Classic country too. In fact, my appreciation for music of all genres, goes much deeper and was established well before I took Music Appreciation at Northern Caribbean University. Earlier this morning, my work day started with Mobb Deep's 'Shook Ones' and Rahkim, Nas and KRS-One's 'Classic'. A few days earlier it had been a trip through the 90's R&B junk yard and before that the boulevard of broken punk band's dreams with Sum 41, Limp Bizkit and Blink 182. I understand why each of those types of music appeal to the people who love them and I know why they appeal to me, each in their own unique way.

I watched the pilot episode of the new HBO show "Girls" this afternoon and my cousin could not fathom why I would watch such a dreadful show. I will not assume what he saw while half-watching the show, but what I heard was wispy, sometimes witty dialogue and what I saw was an almost entrancing lead actress in over her head and intriguing artistic direction and wardrobe, complimented by engaging cinematography. What the show lacked in dialogue and "action", it makes up for with odd-ball characters and great storytelling, with quick cuts, brilliantly composed shots and an unpretentious film grade. While I will probably never watch this show again, because the story failed to capture my attention, I was able to appreciate the positives in this project and I understand why that show is on TV.

When the writing stops, I try to fit into boxes that are perhaps more acceptable since all that I have to say stays bottled up. There's no making the words come or the urge to write. Sometimes it just does and at other times its no where to be found. My pen (or keyboard) allows me to only be myself, stripped of all pretense. Well, maybe not ALL; I retain my innate sense of pretentiousness well past the third paragraph of any essay. Maybe it all makes me strange. But it all makes ME.

So, I'm back to writing what I want to write. I'm gonna shoot what I want to shoot. I already watch what I want to watch. And most importantly I'm gonna enjoy every hop, skip and leap along the way.

Enjoy me. I know I will.

Maybe...

Maybe this is the answer. Maybe I've spent too much time away from here becoming more and more confused and overwhelmed with these thoughts of loneliness, grief and a contented sense of achievement. Perhaps all I needed to do was return to my safe space, where all my thoughts form words that form sentences that some times don't make much sense to neither me nor my reader but have an immense capacity to free my soul. Maybe this is just what I need to do; get the words out to clear space for me to function 'normally', if how I function can be described as normal.

My life has become increasingly complex since I dropped out of University in December of 2010. I say complex because I refuse to search for another word to describe the lopsided manifestations of extreme glee and intense sadness that have filled my days since. ..."And I, in my darkened threshold, am pawing though my pockets, the receipts, bus schedules, the matchbook, phone numbers, the urgent napkin poems; all of which laundering has rendered pulpy an strange, loose change and a key." This is my life and all of the circumstances that have created the conditions which I now live under have taught me lessons that will stay with me forever.

My father's death taught me a great deal, about the true uncertainty of life. Most people survive through each day and a few try to live each day like it's there last. But it's my opinion that living either way is a tad mundane and so "inside-the-box" and living each day like it's your last may just make it your last day. I now choose to live each day like it's my first, making a conscious effort to enjoy each opportunity with the fresh eyes of a babe, the wonderment of a child and a cultivated sense of innocence and curiosity that affords me such grand perspective. And strangely, I find that rather than count myself insignificant in the vastness of the universe, how favored I realize I am to exist and to carry on the legacy of a great man, "A Giant in my Eyes".

I could scarcely retrace the steps that my father and I had previously walked together, far less for even attempting to lace up his wing-tips and walk more than a few steps, but I have found a way to keep his legacy alive. His words live through me. "Always have your own!" "Love those who care about you!" "Care about those who love you!" "Be a good man!" "Research your opinion and stand for what you believe in!".....And I Love It!!! 

Maybe this WAS what I needed!!!