Thursday, September 04, 2014

Everyone has a past, some should tell their story

Everyone has a past.
Everyone comes from somewhere, with parents in some form or another.

Yet within all of the similarities, we are all individuals. Each of us has a backstory, each of us has a plot. And in some odd fashion, our lives have a structure.
A beginning, a middle and an end.
This is where this story starts, all of the above.
Exploring our existence, viewing what once was through different shades.
Finding the pieces that never existed in the beginning and somehow was irretrievable while stuck in the middle, as we come to our end.
As we go through time, there comes a time we examine what pieces we have left over. Sometimes we do this early on in life, to make a difference of where our middle will continue.
Shifting gears, taking a new path, finding a new purpose, we all do it. In some fashion, that similarity again.
As we near the end, we hope to have some resolve or at least some admission of where we were and how it all came to be.
Almost like clockwork, Caleb and Leah would find themselves in these discussions. Reviewing a life passed. Not from this earthly plain, the one we exist in today.
That the skeleton each has and the skin that covers was somewhere else at some time in their lives.
Each segment of their lives has a story within a story, each having an answer to where they are currently in this life.
How can one moment in time, one split decision, give way to the breath they exhaust presently?
Conversations begin innocently, as much so as, “How was your day?” or even, “What are your plans for the day?”
Leading into some philosophical realm of morality, faith and contemplation.
Some with logic some with the logic of a child still stuck in 1970. Holding all the grudges that child held, and then the conversation turns. It spins. Going full circle to what that year, that day, meant to that child and what relevance it holds to the adult today.
Caleb’s story is one of awe. It wasn’t always perceived that way. To strangers he may have come off as a storyteller, taking pieces of a child’s memory and twisting into a justification the adult could live with in today’s world.
Yet he wasn’t exaggerating, and he wasn’t romanticizing.
It just was.
Finding the meaning in it appeared to be a quest. Self-soul searching, finding justice within the mind.
So it would all make sense. To him. It didn’t matter if it did to anyone else.
Sunday mornings were the usual time, although any day would work. Yet Sunday mornings were preferred.
A casual conversation turned into a walk through Caleb’s memory box. An unwritten scrapbook, of pain, of joy and torn memories of a childhood.
Here within these chapters (episodes) are these pictures in black and white. An examination of what was and where one lands. Mixed in with a dose of today.
Lessons to be learned?
That’s not for me to judge. That is what one will gather, and bring into their own. Remember, within all the similarities, we are individuals.
Even if the pain is the same.

Chapter One
Sunday mornings. In their first house. A grand old square box, built somewhere in the early 1900’s. With a back porch with a view. A view of the neighbors back porch.
One of the many reasons Caleb despised the house. And yet he liked the house for the soul reason, it was his house. And no one was going to take it away from him. No one would tell him he had to move, or where he could hang a picture, or how loud he could play his music. Or where he could park his truck.
No one.
The back porch was the favorite spot, in the beginning. Waking early. Caleb hated to sleep in, he felt he was missing something. That he had life in his hands, right then, and sleeping those moments away just wouldn’t do.
Leah would wake a bit later than Caleb, and join him on the stoop. Time came and went, and soon they found themselves immersed in hobby, if one could call it this, of buying peanuts and bird seed. Hand feeding squirrels and blue jays. While taking a tour through the history of their lives.
Caleb would speak of his love for animals, his goals, and his past. And he would always be dead center of where he was in the present.  Everything he did, he said related to then and now.
Like any other Sunday, he spoke freely. His honesty could be overwhelming for his subjects were, at times, jarring to one’s soul.
Leah grew up like, any other normal kid the 70’s.  At least by her own delusions of what any other kid was defined, especially during the 70’s.
Early in their relationship, it was difficult for her to relate to not having food, or to being abused. It usually left her angry. Mad at people she had never met. And when she did, by God, she’d hate them. At least that’s what she told herself.
It wasn’t within her to truly hate someone. She had found a way throughout her crazy little life to remove the negative from herself, to purge it from her insides. Figuratively and literally.
She had her own demons.
Sundays were mainly reserved for Caleb.
This Sunday, Caleb revealed the pain of being a parent. Who the hell hasn’t done this? Not like Caleb.
His life was driven by goals. Living by goals and obtaining these goals. Someway, somehow. The how usually ending up being the lesson learned. And usually the hard way.
Leah? Goals? Her goal was to make it from one morning to the next, there was never anything more nor less that was a goal.
She learned she existed to exist in a world that did the same.
Until she met Caleb.
Caleb would exhaust a memory, for a good two hours. Leah knew it wasn’t the end of the story for him though. He mulled it around in his noggin, if not for the rest of the day possibly a good week.
To meet Caleb, people see him as what he is and truly never looked at him for who he was…what his back story was, or how far he had come.
His point A to Point B, took years. Nothing came easy. And his turn on the ride of life was filled with turns. Twisted. And at times, on deaths door.
Born in 1967, the height of peace love and all the jazz we and the youth of today revere as a time to be romanticized. When truly it was more turbulent. Even more so when you live in a crazy bubble of a world.
His dad went off to Vietnam, and his mom, 17 at the time, continued to live, like she was the age she was. Being married didn’t change it.
Shortly after his father’s return, his parents divorced. And the hope of a normal life divorced itself from Caleb.
He never and to this day, never thought if they had stayed together life would’ve have been the cleavers.
Shoulda woulda coulda.
Who knows? And Caleb is not one to speculate on what might have been. In all of his stories, he never laments on what might have been. Never. Just how that impression, stuck. And molded him into his present form. There is no justification, no apology.
Mom remarried. To a former marine. Caleb remembers that life would be good. It would be normal.
A child’s wish.

posted by Jod{i} at 9/04/2014 07:25:00 PM, | What say You?0 comments

As a member of a community I feel the pain. Losing a member of your community it hits home. Its that close. When a young kid, sits on his stoop, after having dinner with his family, he should be able to remain
This moment of a family do this and to have this interupted by gunfire and atragically a loss of a life, reverbates throughout our community. It still echoes.
This is everyone's child. He was someone's child.
It couldve been mine.

Not knowing them personally, is NOT a factor. We know them. We should.
We live in the same community, we share the same space.
This has stuck with me today. Its just sat there, scratching at my brain.

Its not about fairness. Its not about being sheltered, as some have accused us citizens in our town of being. That because it happens in other towns, almost nightly, WE live a shltered existence?

I dont want to be desenisitized to wht happens in the world. I want to feel. I want to be sad, and to feel that pain.
It exists, by just accepting it, and "its not me" or "I didnt know them", is a cop out.
Its what is wrong with our world.


WE, should be able to sit on our stoops after dinner and be comfortable with feeling safe, at our own homes in our neighborhoods. It is not acceptable.

We all want to move to better places. Sadly we cant escpe it. It will still hover and be there. We can live in our own little world, and pretend...until it hots home. Then what? Run again?

What about caring? What about being there? Supporting our community and NOT marginalizing it.
Those people. Them.

We label it, and then it fits into our own little puzzle.

Its unacceptable. We, as a whole, need change. WE, every single one, need to change.

Until we all step out, "on our stoop" and do this as a whole.

It wont change, until WE do.

posted by Jod{i} at 9/04/2014 07:22:00 PM, | What say You?0 comments
Tuesday, January 21, 2014

The Keeper of Truths

In the essence of keeping it real. In the realm of somewhat coherent thought. As I sit sipping a hot cup o'joe, reveling in the wonder of pink, thick clouds against a baby blue hue, mixed with the gray of the night. More apparent comes a meandering of complacency and time.
Time, the keeper of truths, of lies, of all the indifferences.
It just remains. It does not cease even as our little bubbles shatter.
Time is the messenger, and yet no one really listens. Taking heed the moments of where one is at the moment. Or of who it affects or why.
Wrapped in our own coccoons, oblivious the essence of that time, the treasure given.
Just seeking to fill it more. Without fully....truly relishing as it ticks...


And indignent when the time passes, and taken away.

No one may know all the secrets that lie within...that explain the path. THe reasons of current indescretions or advocacy of truth...
Except time.

Not only a measurement of the abstract of existence. Yet a measurement of who we are.

Putting into that time, is ll that is deservedly given back. Reflected back.
Ownership of our time, is solely the responsibility of the self. Making an excuse for faulting our own coping, blaming all but what is within.

No lecture. No sermon. No preaching.

One knows.
One accepts.

Time is the keeper.

The flowers shall wilt, the birds will fly off and the moments slip.

DO what you will.

For it is all we truly possess. And that which possesses us.

"Everything comes to pass. Nothing comes to stay." ~Matthew Flickstein

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*Artwork by Invisiblesuitcase
Originally written November 2007 Relevancy remains, different reasons

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posted by Jod{i} at 1/21/2014 03:00:00 AM, | What say You?0 comments
Tuesday, November 12, 2013

A view from Inside

For me is capturing the never ending dialogue that runs through my head. Since I was a wee child, I have had an imagination that was beyond my years. I knew this.
I would read. I would write. I would read, I would write. Oh heaven help me when I received my first typewriter(yes first, as in there was a second and a third).
I wrote my first “script” when I was ten years old.
I knew then what I wanted to accomplish with my life. I hope you noted, the word there, “accomplish”, not “do” with my life.
There is a difference.
And I recently, within the last five-ish years, I came to this epiphany.
Without getting long winded, I came to realization that the reasons I write, are not my own. And what we choose to do with the words, are our own, as well.
Writing, for me, is more than doing. It’s there all the  all the time. Gnawing sometimes clawing at the gray matter. How I choose to express these voices, is multi faceted. At times these different avenues of prose, are all intertwined. Telling their story.
Seeking to be heard. At times, once told they go away, never to be heard from again. Other times, they crave to be heard. To be finished.
Whether it is an expression of emotion or thought through poetry/prose- it is all part of the process.
Never ending.
Everyday, I write. Sometimes it may have nothing to do with the story I am currently battling in my head, most days, its all the story.
I never had a solid goal that my name had to be in the spotlight. The goal was and is, accomplishing a piece of work that holds merit.
The path isn’t always a clear path, and the obstacles can be massive. Clouded with negativity. The key is use that negativity to ones advantage. Tot ake what truths they posess and use it.
There are many negative people out there. Many who have forgotten they worked hard to get where they are today. There are many who like to pontificate they are the ones who know all, like oz behind the curtain. They are quick to catch, they are. The best writers, advice givers, are real. They give solid advice. Sound advice. And many give the same advice over and over. Why?
It holds truth.
These are people you need to listen to, to read, and most importantly, LISTEN. I know I said it already, but truly to be a writer, and to surround yourself with those generous enough to give you a helping hand, especially those who are honest about their path? LISTEN to them.
If you want to accomplish something, then be the writer, who enjoys their craft. Want to learn. Is willing to put that ego aside and make the changes.

Do I have some good stories. Yep.  And the first one? Is the baby, the story that led you done this path.
It will probably go nowhere. as it sits, and  on some days stares at me from behind the glass bookcase. Stares meander into glares and then it quietly goes back to sleep.
It’s ok. Doesn’t mean you can not write.  Means the story was told, and there it sits, and its done.
Let it go. Move on, try again. And again, times a gazillion.
I have read many scripts, for SPEC-newbies. I learned so much from the process and learned to have a different eye, a perspective I didn’t have as I was to attached to my own words.
I am a nobody and I am comfortable with this, I am not striving out there to push it all along to be the next big thing. Nope. 
For me its about learning and improving and if something were to come along? I make those decisions as I go.
I am a creative soul, with a flood of material, its wht I want to put into it.. I am doing my thing.
I write, I write daily.
Its putting my voice out there, and to be part of thi awesome collective of people.
The point? Don’t give up what you strive for in your world. Do it right. Listen to those who hold the knowledge, and if you do so, you may find you’ve created something worth putting out there.

Onward and yes I #amwriting.


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posted by Jod{i} at 11/12/2013 09:57:00 AM, | What say You?0 comments
Wednesday, October 09, 2013

Paying it Forward

News: Over at my Messages blog, I have redesigned and I am making this my writing prose/poem and ARTWORK blog.
Today, I started a *sale* of my artwork running from today(Wednesday Oct 9th) until Friday Oct 11th.
For the price of a DONATION to causes that are near and dear to me. There are many causes, that are near and dear, and it was hard to choose. Details are at Messages.
So far, I have *sold* six paintings. For  are grand total of 400 dollars. Makes me happy that people are buying the Artwork, which will now have more meaning, than just me pushing paint.

People have inquired, Why are you donating, the the profits? You are unemployed.
Yes. Yes I am.

Paying it Forward dear friend.
I am of the belief, as it has been proven to me, first hand that when you give, you will receive.
I am not an overly religious person. Not in the least.
Yet I have a belief in people. In the good that resides in all of us. It's there.
Sometimes we have to give something to get something, and to thus give it back again.
I was brought up in a home and in a family, that you "do good for the right reasons. And with no agenda, and for no celebrity"
Its just right.
Yep, I was let go of my job of 12 years. A bittersweet moment. Anger at first, and then, then something came over me. A sense of gratitude. For all I have and for all I do not have, the do not haves are usually unimportant extras in this world. Items people use to qualify and quantify their existence.
And I am grateful for that which I do have in this world. I have been "lucky" to have a good support system, to have those people in my life who boost ya up when needed and give a swift kick in the ass, as necessary, when the pity party has run its course.
My art is a part of me. Its not terribly awe inspiring in my eye, yet if I can give that part of me and give back to those who truly need... then it is all good.
As it should.

Carry on,

posted by Jod{i} at 10/09/2013 02:38:00 PM, | What say You?0 comments
Friday, September 13, 2013

Looking for Shadows...

We spend an awful lot of time seeking out what isn't there. What will never be there. Checking, rechecking a constant reassurance there isn't any goblins hiding away. Just waiting to snatch our soul.
Shadows creep. They crawl. For some, they slither.
When the night comes, the shadows are more ominous. This mystery of what it is that sinks inside you. That dwells where none should truly be...And there it sits.

Years and years of looking behind every wall, in every corner and even "under the bed".
Seeking out what is not there.
Too many of us don't look beyond. TO the obvious.
that would be just too easy. And less dramatic as well.

Stop looking where that perception of fear lies...And just look out in front.

Visible reality. You know something is true when there is a shadow.
Even in death, there is still remains a shadow.
Envisioning evil dwellings inside the gray matter. Ritual dances of 'lore.
Searching and finding that which holds no value. Images filled with negativity.
They aren't creeping up on you. They creep with you.
Sometimes standing so close, the stench of a breath would sicken the hardest. Staring you down.
Look at me! Look at me! I am right here you fool!

Dance with them!

Shadows are not cowards. They do not hide.
When one no longer sees a shadow, it is just that much closer to you, you can't see it.

Yet you feel it.
That uneasiness. The discomfort of what is wrong.

Looking for that answer in nooks and the crevices. Like a moth to light, gravitating to...

It is not there, my friend.
the quest to place a name on all that crawls inside, to assign blame and to embrace validation that your mind sees those shadows.
Wasting time.
What is done is done, who did and why is irrelevant to a solution.
Move on...
We spend too many precious hours(hours!) attempting to be heard on who is at fault, and the retribution of brimstone.

Acknowledge is the true.
Just to have the acknowledgement. To hear the words, "I hear you"... And no more.
Giving permission with this simple statement, permission to move forward. No longer stuck in a quagmire of solitude and desperate desire to be vindicated.

Shivering in this perspective.
The skew of inner depth perception.
Impending doom.
Of what hides.

Hides in the shadows.

*Artwork by Cu5

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posted by Jod{i} at 9/13/2013 08:46:00 PM, | What say You?0 comments
Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Twelve Years later, and the pain remains

A day that holds a sacred piece of each of us.
A day where we had this moment, albeit painful, of feeling as one with our neighbor.
Or the stranger we would've outwardly ignore as we pass them by in a store.

Whether you were directly affected by the events, or indirectly as being a human being on this planet.

The day is  revered as a one of THE most surreal days of human existence.

In speaking with anyone about September 11, 2001, whatever their situation at that moment, there is a commonality amongst them all.
The pain.
The fear.
The sense of being a part of something so much larger than we could have ever imagined.

We started our day as most Americans do, moving through our morning to get to the end of our day.
At times mindless and rote.

And all of that was to change, forever.

In the years that have passed, I have taken on a reflection of this day. Not of just 'who' I am, yet 'who' WE all are in this world.
Articles have been written, documentaries have been shown, songs written.

We lost something that day.

There was an innocence that tumbled down with those walls.

I have many personal recollections of that morning. The one overwhelming, that continues to be with me to this very day, is "all the people".

It's not a feeling that ever leaves you.

The images never erased.

I look back today, and it is still there. I could never even imagine, those who were there. And the events that unfolded. Through reports, through documentaries, we hear the stories, and the pain inside deepens.

The drive home was long, and quiet.
Unusual for a busy highway system. The world had appeared to stop, and yet we kept moving through it.

Imagine if we could carry that feeling, the one of unity. Without all of personal bias' .  Without all the minutia that invades our daily dialogue.
Imagine what we could be as a society.

Twelve years later, and the remains of that day are still evident.

Etched within our psyche.


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posted by Jod{i} at 9/11/2013 09:09:00 AM, | What say You?0 comments
Monday, September 09, 2013

Attempting to process Syria...

There are no real answers. Which ever way we as a nation turn, we will come out with negativity somewhere. It's how we, as society, roll. In my observations of the past many many years, it has grown worse. We feel entitled, justified to judge. To jump to conclusions of what people are thinking without giving them due process to explain. Now, I will take full on admission, they aren't doing a very good job at 'splainin' here.
One, our window of opportunity has passed. Gone. POOF. Just like that...
Secondly, when officials make statements, they are making them to the world, not over coffee or a few brews with "the guys". a simple rule to follow in said situations?

Mind blowing isn't it?
What a concept. We as a society have indulged them and accepted this, and then we let the media interpret, and then jam it down our throats.
An we buy it.
Wake up people, Start using your gray matter. I know you can. I know you can think logically. I know you may be rusty at it, but hey its worth a try.

I am ambivalent about the whole controversy of Syria. It is, in my mind, one of these most difficult moral questions to answer.

Should we bomb a country, already in the middle of strife and warfare? With a great possibility of killing even more civilians?

Or do we, as a country, as a whole, let this moment pass?

I am not one to bang the drums of war. Far be it from me, to advocate for more killing. To have blood on our hands.

And in that is my own personal quandary of what should be done, what should have been done and where we go from this point.

If I HAD to call my Senator,and my representatives, I would tell them no. Right now, at this very moment, no.
A week ago? Two weeks ago? I would've said Bomb the crap out of them.

Just being honest. Yet I am consciously sitting here weighing all the options out. Knowing full well, I do not have all the details, nor will we, nor should we.

We waited too long.
As a behaviorist, when we introduce re-enforcers, to change a behavior we do them immediately. Not a week or two down the road. It doesn't equate. It doesn't make sense.
Maybe that is my first mistake, assuming there is logic here, somewhere.

I question why we wait.
I question why didn't we help or don't we help the people in the world who suffer DAILY, the atrocity of their governments?
Is chemical warfare just that evil? More evil than the bombs and bullets already raining down hour to hour on these same civilians?

The humanitarian in me, wants to save the word and live in a world that sees Peace, no more pain.

The realist in me, knows that will never happen.
Humans are not programmed that way. We just are not.

People need to LISTEN to what these leaders are truly saying. Stop listening to the pundits. What does YOUR mind, YOUR heart tell you?

WE, as a nation should shame the other nations. The UN? Useless.

Oh everyone is opposed to the use of chemical warfare, they all signed the document.

Yes? And?
What the hell is good is that worthless piece of paper, if WE as a GLOBAL COMMUNITY, do not stand for what is right in this world?

Now, I am not making the case for sending missiles into Syria. I truly am just muddling it all through this old noggin and trying to make sense of it.
And of all the times I do, I come out with the same answers.

The Global community. Funny set of words, I don't think many people really think of themselves as part of a GLOBAL community. Many people, think in today's terms. Where they stand today, now. That is, their community and if they don't see a threat? Then there is no threat. They can not reach beyond their own borders.
There are other avenues to go down in the process. Pressure on Syria's allies. Many who also signed against the use of chemicals.

Our window if opportunity has passed. Either way we go, we will come out not a victor. Although sometimes the  victor doesn't always come out on top when advocating the morality of people.

Would my opinion change if Assad was to be removed? It might. And more than likely it would not, as the options of who  then takes over is even a bigger quandary in the scope of this disaster.

My heart aches for the people. It does.
As does my heart aches for the people in my community.

We as a society, here can't even get our heads out of our asses to assist our own people.

What makes anyone think they will for people thousands of miles away?

So I have no answers. Only an opinion. One that is so wishy washy and to the brim with ambivalence.

However this shall go, and we know this already, we just don't want to say it out loud, the world will watch, the world shall judge and we will not be better off than we were. And neither will those people.


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posted by Jod{i} at 9/09/2013 09:56:00 AM, | What say You?0 comments

Excerpt from a new story, "No title as of yet"

"...always feeling detached. Not in the sense of mental stability, although I am sure there would plenty of people who would argue the validity of that statement. The adjectives, of odd, weird, strange,out there, come to mind, pick your words of poison.
    Detached in the sense of seeing life and the actions of others through a different lens than most people.

I am just as normal as the next..."


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posted by Jod{i} at 9/09/2013 09:24:00 AM, | What say You?0 comments