The Jester Has Lost His Jingle

Giving a speech on the author of this amazing children's book, David Saltzman.

He died 11 days shy of 23, and produced a classic in the face of Hodgkin's disease. I'm ashamed to think of myself as an aspiring writer when I read about David's story. I hope to some day create something that has such an impact on people, but that's not happening without some responsibility and adult behavior.

It's a shame and a blessing when you exit the "Big Nothing" like Elliott Smith's song. "You can do what you want to, whenever you want to though it don't mean a thing."

Parting from the state of confusion is not easy, and I don't mean to break away forever, but I certainly need to confront the problems I'm faced with. I have the means to do it, my engines aren't really ever full and without concerta to help me focus I do have a really hard time concentrating, in class, on work, reading, anything really.

But the thing is the productivity and positivity that are the comeuppance of focusing one's energy is astounding. I want to soar.

physical therapy starts soon!!!

week 1 of 24 hasn't started out here

the path is still unclear

but soon the fire lights

and then this simple spark

inside myself ignites

the smell of the pitch

rubber artificial turf and grass

from the first touch they say I can take

I'll be waiting for the next time I can make a pass.

The beautiful game drew me in as a child. I remember vaguely the world cup 94 and a little better the youth teams we split our age group up into before town soccer began. I was one of the fastest kids on the field, asthmatic as hell though and unaware of a deviated sceptum, so my shifts were shorter but I fought for every last ball and slid to win any ball, didn't have to be a 50-5o.. you dribble by kicking the ball too far ahead of you? I'm going to get the ball, you may get wrecked but I'm going to get up and keep playing unless a whistle is blown. The amount I cared about EVERY single game astounds me to this day. The excitement of a new pair of cleats, even if they were usually just the next year's adidas model, nothing too crazy. The thrill of playing goalie and making saves, keeping a match under control. Defense, a more physical side of the sport that relies on good depth perception, communication, strength of body and mind and VISION. As a defender you see the whole field. Call for a pass if you see the run being made- make that insane run down the left line hoping for the 1-2 or give-n-go to either send in a ball or blast a shot.

So many happy memories. The final memories I have before this while ligament situation are solid. I scored that game, we won, I was playin hard and having fun. I got hurt. Now, I can get myself back up, buy into this PT routine 100% and work so hard to not just get back but get back better.

There are many more memories yet to be made with myself and the beautiful game. While there has been distance, the truth is it never left me. Futbol is a part of me, I feel off because I havent had that outlet. I need to throw myself into academics, coaching, writing, and maybe trying to make music.

I felt miserable earlier this evening, it's now 4AM and I AM WIDE AWAKE. FUCK.

ambiens don't work, built up a tolerance.

ITS THE YEAR OF THE TIGER!!!

I'm a Dragon. What this means? right now dont ccare, gotta try to sleep before the su comes up

Misstep

Am not starting the semester as envisioned, and if the best laid plans get fucked than my simple sketchy outline of the semester got molested.

When you stare at an opponent, you can size yourself up and say "Okay, I'm faster/bigger/smarter/a better chef" than this person.

When it's ourselves we gaze at, we don't like what we see in the reflection. It's insane! We know all our own tricks, the little charades we put on and yet with all this information we can't summon the confidence to destroy ourselves, so to speak?

It's astonishing. All the game footage in the world, exact skill matchups and the power of will and discipline is all it takes to kill that part of yourself for the greater cause. To quiet that voice of laziness or apathy or to disrupt the SILENCE of our minds. To compete! To strive for a goal and to do so passionately, with the desire of a child still going for every loose ball in the match, wanting nothing else but to play the whole game.

I find myself sidelined by me, the coach. I'm sending out my reserves as my starting eleven, and it's FUBAR. Choice plays such a large role in life, and the big choice I'm faced with is how to tackle this issue of not sleeping. It's ruining the rest of my life, my friendships aren't as fulfilling and all because I can't fall asleep. I believe in myself sometimes, now being one of them. I believe I can defeat this son of a bitch called insomnia that I grapple with every night. I won't have sleep every night but I need the discipline and routine to condition my body into a functional sleep cycle.

For someone who doesn't sleep, it's easy for others to see you as lazy, abnormal, a whole bunch of other things as well. Truth is, when there's no energy to do something sometimes one can't just saddle up and strap in. Auto-pilot is not good enough.

Good enough is neither good - nor enough

But it's a real challenge to be better, because even after a stretch of good days one missed night of sleep can wreck a lot of good emotions. I'm not on edge as much these days, but without some sort of structure, regimen, routine, and program of discipline I will not see results. I need my knee to heal so I can get closer to running, then way down the line soccer.

I must focus on school and right now I'm not doing so hot at all.

I'm also going to start putting up poems that may or may not be finished just so i have someplace to keep them. I don't particularly advertise this blog because I don't see it as having an audience really, which makes me feel even better about that. Although it would be nice to have someone help me become a better writer by working with me.

It's almost 12:30. The two combatants enter the ring. Myself in the red trunks, insomnia in the blue.

Sound that bell.

It's 12:34 AM. That time gets me. It's like catching 9:11 or 11:11. You just have some sort of electrical synapse in your brain that registers those numbers on the clock. It's starting off a rough semester, I have pressure piled way way high over me but I need to rise above and not only can I, but I will.

It's time to be done with all of the self-fulfilling prophecy that is depression. Feel like shit, don't want to go out. Stuck in alone, feel awful. But when you do venture out into the uncomfortable world of parties, remember- there are always spots withing said parties that are more your scene. You don't need to be on the dancefloor (especially with that leg) but thats not the point. the point is life is the sum of all your experiences, and if you prevent yourself from exiting your comfort zone, taking that step outside the shell we all create around ourselves is a liberating feeling.

Nobody wants to get hurt, but without putting shit on the line, there's nothing to hurt but yourself, with the plague of regret. Fuck regret, can't live in yesterday.

I never practice what I preach but writing really does help me get some of these thoughts out that I don't voice to other people. I'm usually too busy spouting off nonsene or some story because I have a problem with talking too much.

I'm just as insecure, scared, as much of a nervous wreck as anyone else. It all comes down to how well you hide it, and when and who you decide to show those other sides of yourself to.

It's late, I have shit to do before class so I can feel good about myself.

Until next time faithful readers.

Cheers,

-M"D"C