I just finished my 7th half marathon today. A little more than 5 years ago the thought of running a marathon at all was something I would have laughed at. 4 years before that if someone would have told me I would begin a love affair with running I would have rolled my eyes while telling you you were crazy (who would want to run for fun?!?!). Driving back from Indianapolis this morning I was amazed at where running has taken me and what it has done for me. I even teared up a bit. My 8 year relationship with running has had it’s up and downs. Running has been my ecstasy, my release, my grasp on life and sanity. I have run 7 1/2 marathons, 2 5k’s and 1 full marathon in the past 5 years. Each one was special, each one meant something different for me.

I started toying around with running my freshman year in college. By my sophomore year I was taking more credits than I needed to, my parents were on the rocks, and so was my first serious relationship. While I was craving a consistent physical outlet like being on the tennis team offered in high school, running really became a stress reliever and forced me to breathe and just exist rather than be consumed with all the temporary hick-ups life was throwing at me at the time. I quickly became addicted to running. I would wake up before classes or student teaching and run around the UD campus. Running became a life source, a necessity. I had no clue what I was doing but I was taking it one day at a time, becoming even more hooked with each mile.

March 2007, Columbus, Ohio: I ran my first 1/2 marathon with my sister my senior year in college. I had never even considered running a race but my sister asked me to run with her and declining was not an option. I found out I had a half-sister 2 years before this, January 1st 2005. This run marks the first real “sister” activity we had done together. The Friday before all my friends were preparing for a 9 hole while I was getting ready for a 1/2 marathon. My sister picked me up in the morning and we drove to Columbus together. During the 1+ drive we talked each other’s ears off. We ran at the same pace and talked the entire run, 2:07, 13.1 miles (I think). We never stopped talking the entire 1+ hour ride home too. I grew up with 3 brothers. I didn’t know what it was like to have a sister but this run really cemented the fact that our relationship was special, we were sisters!

January 2008, Disney 1/2 marathon, Florida: At this time I had moved to Florida by  myself and I was teaching at a k-8 school. One of my co-workers asked me to take her slot in the run because she had not been training. I had been running avidly but I had not really been training. Running through Disneyworld was my main motivation for agreeing to run. 2 other teachers from my school were running too but they were with their families. I drove over to Orlando by myself, got a hotel room by myself, and beat my first 1/2 marathon time. I think I ran in 1:57. I think it takes courage to do something by yourself. Being in Florida and away from everyone I loved, I had to learn to do a lot of things by myself and it wasn’t easy at times. Actually it was rarely easy. Completing this run was an amazing thing to do by myself. I was proud of myself and I really needed that. This run also marks the start of a fierce competition with myself. I hadn’t tried to beat my time but it felt amazing. I quickly started to plan my next run so I could beat my new personal record (PR). Also,I’m not going to lie but running through Sleeping Beauty’s castle was magical!

May 2009, Cincinnati Flying Pig 1/2 Marathon, Ohio: This was a special run for a couple reasons. The first being that I finished. I had developed a neuroma in my left foot. I had let it go for so long, because I am stubborn, that the only option to fix it was surgery or to stop running. The latter was not an option and I couldn’t have surgery until summer because it would  put me out of work for 2 weeks. My foot was hurting so bad that I couldn’t walk without limping. I was really worried about being able to finish the run. I ended up running, passed the finish line, and beat my last time, I think I finished around 1:52. I honestly doubted myself before this race. I thought I would be walking through the finish line. This helps explain the intoxicating atmosphere a race embodies. It is impossible to not soak in the positive optimism at a race. Thousands of people are gathered together to achieve a similar goal  that they have been working there BUTT off for.

The other reason this run was so important was that I was running among the Legs for Lou Gehrig team. My Yaya (Grandma in Greek, my grandparents neighbour and friend) had passed away in March and she was one of my Grandmother’s best friends. My Grandma passed away from ALS when I was 8. I had raised money to help raise money for research and family aide through the ALS association. My run became not only about running in my Grandma’s memory but Yaya as well because she was one of the people who helped my family get through Grandma’s sickness and death. Running with this underlying purpose was strengthening and empowering. Despite the pain in my foot I had to have a good run for the women I was running in memory of. I ran through the pain, forgot about it, and conquered.

September 2009, Air Force 1/2 Marathon, Ohio: I had signed up for this marathon before I found out I needed to have surgery. It was supposed to be my first full marathon. After I had surgery I accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to pull off running and surviving 26.2 miles. I bumped my run down to the 1/2 and refused to accept anything less. I kept telling myself it would be ok to just finish the run since I had not trained the way I should have after the surgery. Even then my mind kept thinking about breaking my time again. It was too tempting. I was going to at least finish under 2 hours….that was my compromise. This run has pace teams to help runners pace themselves and make the times they were aiming for. I was way behind the team I needed to make my goal time and I ended up sprinting in the beginning of the race to catch up. Without realizing it I ended up completely beating my time, 1:47. This was also the first run my family came to. My mom, dad, and little brother were waiting for me at the finish line. Running had become something I was proud of, a part of me. Up to now I had never really been able to show my parents what running was to me. My mom didn’t understand why someone would willingly consent to sweat that much, my dad was worried about my knees, and my brother bluntly told me I was crazy. I think being at the run and witnessing all the runners, immersed in the atmosphere of the marathon helped them understand a little bit more.

I had been having a rough time before this run. I had left my job in Florida, was working 3 part time jobs at times, going to grad school, I totalled 2 cars within a month of each other,  I was living in my Grandfather’s basement, post it notes were littered around the house to help me remember things because I was doing a pretty poor job of keeping track of myself, homework, work schedules, I needed surgery, etc. I felt like a chicken with it’s head cut off running around completely lost and kinda crazy. Before this run I was finally gaining a grasp on things, I had been hired at St. Helen to teach art, I didn’t know it yet but I had met my future husband, I was making plans to move out on my own again…everything was fitting back together again. I had been very insecure about the path my life had taken before this. I didn’t recognize myself when I looked in the mirror at times. I was lost and I was fighting to find myself again. You learn to love these temporary setbacks after you conquer them. The Air Force Marathon the ultimate sign that I had made my way through the dark and had found myself again.

During this run I passed a man with a shirt that said, “blind runner partner.” He was holding on to a man’s arm, leading him through the race. This was breathtaking. This runner had a obstacle that you would assume would deter him from running a marathon but he was blowing that assumption out of the water and doing it anyway. That took guts, that took strength, and determination. I hope I have that ability if I were ever confronted with something that would test me like that.

October 2009, Dayton River Classic 1/2 Marathon, Ohio: I ran this run on a whim. Someone couldn’t run and they needed someone to fill their spot. My next run was going to be a full marathon and I had just run the Air Force 1/2 so I was ready and I needed to keep up my miles. I ran it for fun and more as a training run. I ended up running it  in 1:46.

March 2010, National Marathon, full 26.2, Washington D.C.: I ended this run in tears, happy tears. I had just run 26.2 miles in 4:06 hours. I couldn’t believe I had done it. My family had come to D.C. to be there with me and the first person I wanted to talk to was my boyfriend of a little over 3 months. Running was far from easy. I felt strong until the 22 mile marker. I started to falter, my legs were KILLING. I ended up walking a little around the 24 mile marker. I was beating myself up terribly for having to walk. I kept starting and stopping for a little bit. My legs hurt so bad. Before I left for D.C. Pat had put some songs on my ipod for me. Coldplay’s Death and All His Friends came through my headphones and I started sprinting. This was one of the song’s Pat had put on my playlist and it was the perfect song for that moment. I would not walk through the finish line. Pat was the first person I called after I finished, he continues to be the first person I want to talk to when something important happens. After the run I have never been in so much pain. My entire body hurt. It hurt to stand, it hurt to lay down, it hurt. I told myself I was crazy for running that long and I would stick to 1/2s from now on….and then started planning how I would train better next time so I could run under 4 hours.

September 2010, Air Force Marathon, Ohio: Pat was supposed to run this 1/2 with me but he had some injuries and had switched to the barefoot style of running so he couldn’t run with me. He was waiting at the finish line for me though. What made this run special was that when I approached the finish line I began looking around frantically for Pat. I found him and he yelled over the crowd that he loved me and I yelled back in answer. Yes, we were that cheesy couple. After I finished Pat and I found each other and hugged and kissed. You know someone loves you if they are willing to touch you when you are that sweaty. I wish Pat would have been able to run with me still and I still expect him to one day but this was the first time I was able to really share my love for running with someone. That’s a HUGE thing, it’s a wonderful thing. I ran in 1:46 and straight into Pat’s arms.

April 2011, Garrett Loiselle Memorial 5K, University of Dayton: One of my good friends passed away during our senior vacation to Daytona after we graduated college. This run was in memory of Garrett. Pat and I had both switched to barefoot running and this was a first barefoot race for both of us. Pat got ahead of me towards the end, this was our first race together too, I yelled after him that he was supposed to finish with me (yes, I was pathetic ) and I caught up to him and we finished together. I ended up in 4th place for girls (0:24 I think) and it felt pretty damn good. While the reason for the run was a sad memory things were good. I was living with my wonderful boyfriend, we had just bought a house together, we were looking for a new puppy brother for AJ, we were finishing a run together, sharing our love for running with each other; running barefoot and injury free.

August 2011, Dayton Dragons 5K, Dayton: I ran this with my sister and her friend Liz. This run made me appreciate the beauty of a short run and running as fast as you can. My sister told me not to worry about hanging back  with Liz and her. She told me to run my normal speed and we’d see each other at the end. I felt really guilty doing this but she eventually convinced me it was ok. I wasn’t ditching her. I finished 5th for girls in around 0:24. I ran this barefoot and it just felt good. There was nothing specific about this run that made it special except it was purely fun. It is important to have those unadulterated, completely simple, selfish, and enjoyable moments in life. I forget that sometimes.

May 2012, 500 Festival Mini Marathon, Indianapolis: I let 2 and a 1/2 years go by between marathons. I will allow myself the excuse that I switched to barefoot running which took some time and adjustment. Work and fixing up the house were time consuming but not entirely good enough excuses. I signed up for this run excited that I would get to run on the Indy 500 track. My best friend lived in Indy and Pat was supposed to run with me. The first is the only thing that happened. After I signed up Katie was promoted at work and moved to Orlando. This is the last time  a schedule a run around where she lives ( ) Pat ended up with a job in Florida as well and he will be coming home for our “one year till we marry” countdown so he couldn’t fly in for the race. So basically, my motivators for wanting to run this particular race were quickly dwindling. I tried to find someone to go with me to Indiana but no body could so I was faced with going by myself. Earlier this week I was very unmotivated and very weepy about this. By Thursday my usual nervous excitement and butterflies before a run started to surface. I booked a hotel, I found someone to check on my pups, and I took off for Indianapolis solo. My mom and my now fiancée’, Pat, were able to track me virtually so in a way they were kind of with me. The drive to Indy was beautiful. I had some mixed CD’s that Pat had made blasting through my stereo. The sky was the colour sky blue was named after and the sun was shining happiness. It was a perfect drive. I wondered around Down town by myself and didn’t get lost after I got my registration packet. I stayed in a hotel by myself which didn’t feel as weird as the first time I had to do that. It was kind of relaxing though I missed my dogs curled up beside me (and of course Pat). The atmosphere at the starting line was optimistic and filled with excitement.  This is the biggest race in the nation with 35,000 runners. Usually during a race I get ahead of myself and push to hard at the beginning. There were warnings all over the place to be smart because the temperature and humidity was high. While training I had started to put more emphasis on speed so when I started I found a comfortable pace and stuck to it. This is the first run I’ve completed where I felt like a legit runner. My fastest mile was 7:40 but I never went over 7:58. I had become in-tune with my body and my abilities as a runner. I felt strong, I felt in control. I was glad I had done this by myself because I needed to feel those two things again. Between Pat moving to Florida, my grandfather passing away unexpectedly, dealing with a horrible room mate situation, and getting sick a few times towards the end of training this year had a pretty rough start and I had been feeling pretty defeated. Things had been looking up but finishing this run solidified that I still had control, everything was beautifully temporary, and I was not defeated. While its natural for me to wish Pat had been there, or I had someone waiting for me at the finish line one of the addictive qualities of the races are the countless of people finishing with you and the strangers congratulating you at the finish line. The atmosphere at a race is unique and you can’t feel sorry for yourself or sad. They create big bubbles of happiness as thousands of people push to complete a race and thousands more cheer you on. I finished in 1:44:08. This is my best time yet and this was  my first 1/2 marathon running barefoot. I still couldn’t wait to call Pat and tell him how I did, which is exactly what I did once I got to my phone but making this run more of a personal experience was a blessing in disguise.

Pat still owes me a race and I plan on getting back on track and run at least one race a year again. My next run will be a full marathon under 4:00 and hopefully the Flying Pig again in memory of my Grandma and Grandpa Gasser. And maybe one day my sister and I will still run the Disney 1/2 like we promised each other What is certain is that I am a runner, running is a part of me, and I never plan on stopping.

I actually don’t even recall the last post I made here.  I think it was some idle weekday and it was an hour or so before I was suppose to be at the Urgent Care I worked for.  Remembering the mindset back then isn’t as easy as I would have thought.  It was clear then I’m sure that I was in some sort of understood funk.  Easily blamed on financial straits or professional status.

There’s this double-edged sword that comes into play with anything I’ve chosen to do with my life.  If you put me in front of a tree and told me to make firewood out of it for the rest of my life I’d do it, and at times I’d enjoy doing it, and doing it well.  I’d take pride in my trivial task, I’d maximize my personal efficiency with it and I’d secure for myself the thought that I must be one of the better people to ever strike wood with an axe.  When I was still int he Air Force it was easy to deter these motivations because the deep shit that came with the appointed supervisors allowed me to simply shrug off -really- caring about what I was doing.  Even then, I did it, and at times I did it well and with pride.  When I got out some subconscious part of me didn’t want to feel like it had to commit to such endeavors.  Instead I went to school, convinced that because I had seen the military that I’d have this deeper reason/meaning to go to school than those that have it handed to them.  Sadly, I just honestly fucking hate school, it’s classes, and the schedules and regulations associated with them.  While most people find these things to be a normal part of life I struggle with it on a cellular level.  I enjoy learning and being educated, but I generally can do that for myself on things that I deem worth my learning.  This perpetuates a certain of naivety but also allows me to grow where I want to as a person…isn’t that all we are honestly trying to do?

I’m not in financial straits anymore.  I took an incredible opportunity to work for Boeing in Florida, sacrificing even further the ties with my family and my fiance that I’ll be marrying in thirteen months…and my dogs, my god I miss my dogs.  My work is challenging everyday and demands that I further my knowledge and very difficult technologies and theories that I only got to glance at in the Air Force.  I’m working an awful lot, and I’m enjoying it.  Like you, and everyone else, I look forward to time off even though I haven’t got much in the little bedroom I rent currently.  I am happier.  On a certain though, things are worse aren’t they?  This sick-cycled carousel carries us.  This rotating life we get caught up in.  Would it be easier to find happiness on all levels if we weren’t presented with the packaged deals?  Meh, maybe.  Where I truly find contentedness is in the change.  I’m rolling.  I’m letting the carousel play out, and I’m doing everything I can to control what I can, surrender what I can’t.  I’m also drawing this analogy out a bit too far.  This is me checking in.  Keep on keepin’ on Frogthinks.

“I could die for you.”

“The eyes of the gods part from me, forget me by my hatred.  Revenge.  For I do not bow by gods for I do not bow by men.  For when my humility has broken my knees I know the dirt by its warmth.  Take me, take my anger, take my disgust.  Swallow the dirt for your loathing Scoochathustra, you will know death before too long.”

“These children dance around me as butterflies and lost and forever they will dance.  But their beauty fades, darkens, becomes shamed by their lies.  I hate the discussion of truth and lies, you perspectives, not but perspectives.  I know you liars, for cowards blot out the sun with their cloudiness.  Ah the blue sky and bright sun, where are you?  Would that they spill out, these clouds, into wretched earth, the dirt would swallow you along with me.  That is where we belong.  Heads on sticks, these playgrounds are battlegrounds.  Are wars are games are chides and chiding.  God for the coming and going, nothing in the coming and going.”

“But for waste for all things unmoved, free me, I take leave of these tiny relationships.  A greatness makes tracks in the distance.  I was born with unfathomable love, and when you gave me knowledge, I swear, if I had it my way, all you motherfuckers would be dead.  For treachery in this wilderness, that cunning resentment and suffering and moaning, I will live and for all things unmoved, you that seek to tire me, my blade will open you.  I look back, a sickness and empathy dulled.  If I had it my way, grab me by throat and kiss me, that my breath were stolen and mouth were shut.”

Scoochathustra scrapes his teeth along the rocks in the mud.  His feet glide steadily in the air.  For his head that drags through the mud, must his feet be above and without gravity.  The earth would see him swallowed for his digging.  Thus does one walk among the coming and going of friends and strangers, thus does one defy their facts by dreaming.  On the creation of truth, not for coward empirics by nothing objectivity, there is no gravity, none.

“Have you seen my fists in the sun!  They break the spirits of tyrants one and more and all are none for my fists!  For all war do I crease by my thumb, an instant is a mere instant when all truths lie prostrate in war.  If I, wave, my hand, all the cities wipe away.”

Scoochathustra lands to his feet.  He sprints through the trees.  He sprints toward the end.  For the god that peeks at him as the sun blinking through branches.  Tears  flee Scoochathustra’s eyes, they are gone as they come.  For his speed, old desperation, he sprints to the end of the trees.

“To the end of the trees!  I could die for you.  Revenge, god revenge are you with me?  What wisdom robs you from me, have I learned to live and not die.  For life must I, go under, and for that must I, beyond romance, leave you.  I have left, I am gone.  I knew when I was a boy, beyond the end of the trees, of all things beautiful, of all things love.  I was alone when I knew, I remember, no one was there.  Or were there all and none at once?  Were they shadows or ancestors with me?  What could I ever know of loneliness?  For mothers and grandfathers that hold my trembling heels in the mud.”

Scoochathustra runs faster, kicks harder.

“I see none but an endlessness, just curled roots and twisting trees.  Just trees.  My soul aches by the beauty, the perfect chaos, the design in the leaves.  The wind and the sounds, the wisdom and peace.  For hollowness is not emptiness, rather a shelter for living.  Thus does one do more than sleep.  Verily these days my heart cannot find its way out of its cage.  Why is it always my chest?  For it is my chest that I move I swear.  This forest moves me.”

“If I reach down now, the world will shift by me.  As I grab the earth, it is clear to me, that the world will move.”

“Have you, silent passenger, come with me this far?  Can you hear the buzzing in your ear?  Can you hear the rhythm?”

Scoochathustra stops dead in his tracks.

“Look at the bouncing sunlight ahead.  See how how it prances through the branches toward me.  For us does it dance.  Do you believe me intolerant?  I find myself the same too often these days.  You must know there is more.  I know there is.  And so long as it remains art, we are all kept in.”

“But why would I close my eyes now?  Breathe.  Not for revenge, hold, for more.  Revenge is back there.  This is frenzy, comes to silence and reflections, reflections are always boring.  I dash from my limbs as the murder of all innocence in industry.  Their farms and commodities make useful pivoting and parallel.  My breaths become weak, this fatigue is sabotage.  I can still taste the dirt in my mouth.  I may have swallowed too much this time.”

“What is my howling and clawing for blood?  Where does that come from?  I have left these secrets behind long ago.  Do you think that I caress my words for passions and floating about?  Am I the liar of liars whose throne’s taste has gone sour.  For liars that kiss the feet of king liars know the taste best.  The eyes of animals beam still from me, as they did when I first met my enemy; humanity.  Not by softness does one remove a sword from their chest.  By the weight of age do I know, how exposed I’ve been and remain to be.  For these days do I strip my armor, do I strip my clothes and my skin from my bones.  In comfort, I know my truth that wants me dead.  What quality of life?  You would not believe my gratitude for anger, as those in padded cells whom tear away to the cement behind the cushion.  They embrace their chaos while others sleep in their tomb.    Would that original freedom wash the dried blood from my fingers.  Reveal my scars I take leave of heartlessness and knowledge.  This scratching turns to chewing, turns to battering, turns to brokenness.”

Scoochathustra looks down.  He reaches for the earth.  Once his palm is firm and flat, he motions for its movement.  He looks up to see if the sky has moved.

“What dream am I in now?”

He gets down on his knees.  His jaw rests, his eyes fill, searching, gazing outward, to the end of the trees.

“Be with me now.  Something beautiful comes our way.”

A lion joins him by his side, and sits.  Scoochathustra rests his head in the golden coat of his companion.

Thus Spoke Scoochathustra

as the noble suffer for their honor, as you must when you have an idea. ideas come with the responsibility of loyalty. and loyalty knows all to well the dark betrayal. for without it, it could never be, nor defined. we are no consequence to our surrounding peers, or situations at hand. we must be the climate, while circumstance may come and go as weather. the noble must know that. may they burn as the brightest stars. the stars only know how to create life. the stars are not afraid of death. they know. they know death brings conclusion to the life they choose. without it may we never learn, may we never weep, may we never grow, and never know the difference. death is a dear friend. the one that whispers in your ear: “there is not forever to be, so be great. there is not forever to love, so love without regret. there is not forever to breathe, so gasp. there is not forever, and this is the divine gift of understanding that creates the noble stars of our universe. there is not forever, so don’t fucking waste now. I am beautiful. I am smart. I am strong.

look me in my eyes. shall they fill up with my reflection in a communion, I will want to understand you. I know I never will. but the lack of something is always the fuel for desire. once desire is satisfied, there is an emptiness. Unless it is true. there are gaps everywhere, and I know all to well I’ll never fill them all. But you can count on me to do my very best. it’s all a big, vibrating web of connections between everything. I feel it beating over my head. It shows me that you don’t have to force anything together, because it’s already a part of everything else. and if you can’t understand that, you must.

I’m up late. Playing Assassins Creed. Every night I pray in gratitude for another day clean and sober and sometimes I end up in an all out conversation in prayer.  Tonight, completely out of nowhere, I got immediately slammed with emotion.  Started crying instantly.  I started getting all these flash images of you and the past.  I miss you.  When I am able to completely step out of all the life circumstances that are happening, the reasons for our being so far apart, it kills me.  Stepping out of our drive and need to pursue careers, your engagement and commitment to (what is essentially) a new family member.  All the things that rationally make sense and are a part of life on life’s terms is fine as seen objectively and maturely.  But, of-course, I’m not into that objectivity bullshit.  As much as I recognize my need for survival at a level of being an adult and not getting swept completely away every time an emotion hits me, it happens sometimes no matter what.  So outside of all the “reasons” we are not in each others lives, I miss you and I don’t understand why.  I don’t understand what all this shit is at-least for right now.  I don’t understand marriage, I don’t understand careers and work, I don’t understand geographicals, I don’t understand any of it.  Like looking out of the eyes of a child again.  It’s so sad.  It’s heartbreaking.  And then immediately, some corrupted adult mind settles my mind and I stop crying and I “understand” why everything is what it is.  How I grew up and overcame addiction and am committing everything I am to being a screenwriter, and you, with your computers and jets and what the fuck ever else shit I don’t even know what you do.  And then the teacher or the parent explains to the kids what adult life is like and they try to understand.  What ever happened.  RM

“Would that my heart be the stunning attention of all things in this, the aggressive displacement of illusion.  For you I cannot, for the world I can, verily, am I the fool, the unknown and desperate.  The one who by the Earth sinks, this aching distracts my romance.”

“Would that I gaze outward while the beasts moan.  The beasts!  They promised me attention and hopelessness all at once.  Their attention is hopeless.  They chide and caress, shattering all destination, all gravity sworn as quality and appeal.  These cuts and bruises make for tasteful dining, you hounds and howlers, perhaps by haps my mistakes take graves as friends.  A dancing thoughtful tone abhors itself cold, ruthless, and cunning, it begs of me to lose me.”

“I do not know how to love what is not great.  Never is anything great enough.  I do not know how to love.”

“By nights I am the aggregate of some resounding momentum.  One that I cannot forget.  One that I do not understand.  It takes me under I swear it.  Not by choice does one lose everything for nothing.  This nothing stands bewildered and ashamed, it is only a verse and not a song.  Not but for cheating, it steals all intentions and offers unwanted truth.  I curl into the arms of my fleeting sanity, the arms of my distant displeasure, verily, serenity is crushing heart break.  Thank god.”

“All reason begs my attention.  ’For you I protect,’ thus it sounds, ‘for you that have died, I protect you, I am a friend.’  And for it, and for all, give me peace, and in that by freedom, give me solitude.”

“Solitude from reason.  Solitude.  What age did knowledge exit me?  For the bored and full-stomached would I pretend to display myself as tragedy.  But for all callers, those lovers of life and lovers of love, ah unto the aging fathom of one another.  It’s all absolutely absurd.  What is happening?  What is happening?”

Scoochathustra knows the road by its eager quiet pace.  He drags the heaviness of his legs, as they paint mountains by intention, and pitfalls by forgetfulness.

”Their eyes make for sharp revenge.  I can feel them digging into the palm of my chest, the moment when this energy yearns and denounces its aim.  I speak on the great unseen, the connected and the longing, by hopes and dreams, these smiling dreams.  No eye forgives me, not one that has met my own.  This I know by the frown hiding in the peak in its corner, it must be confused, or some shape of fear makes a window to their pain.  By peering memories do I pretend to know anything, I collapse by misunderstanding, thus does my hypocrisy want my humility.  While elsewhere, I gaze outward, an unknown shade of darkness stares back at me.  It promises me loathsome sentiments and lonely death.  I welcome all that knows me best, and thus, do I love the shade for its darkness.  Not for the absence of light, but rather, the empirics that exit as the blind eye relinquishes trust.”

Scoochathustra comes to the edge of ocean, once again.  A beach he’s never known and always dreamt of.  When out of the dancing specks of the sun glimmers an image he’s never met.  For in the ocean floats a wolf, on the back of a whale.  Such is the loud hunger of our man.

“When I was a child, I am a wolf.”

“The wisdom of a wolf sings to me as the calm hero after her fight.  Thus do all wolves intend for this friend of whales, they whose survivalism is beyond nature.  Beyond want and pleasure, or meager or the petite expression.  Wolves the keen murder of mockery and discompassion.  I can tell by the wit in their eyes.  Thus do their howls make men’s violence shiver by thunder.  Whales the serene beauty and grand life.  I can tell by the calm in their eyes.  Thus do they move the world by their glide.  For these travelers at once gestures hugs and smiles into my own, they tell me of their ocean.  Or so would I plead universality with their wandering.  That all things there are similar to all things on the dry Earth.  Not that social, relentless turning out of my stomach’s laughter, not by games – not here! – but by our enraged resilience for life and fervor!  You the wolf, you know of this war, I am a warrior and a lover of war.  Thus love my war or do as others do, and soak in the stench of arrogant peace by no subtle distance.  Verily is my broken foot my cripple, by condemning the failed movement, while I stomp as do children when they see what we’ve done.  Shun me not by my limping.  You the wolf, you the whale, you know of me so little and verily does one pine.  While impatiently, for this little that you know of me by hastened moments have you understood me.  As do our souls as do stars.  In so forth, we speak of spirits by moments.  For these spirits dwell by hiding in the chattering discourse, the nothing and going.  They hide in the pauses, the beats, the glances.  And when some truth has made its way into the nothing and going, they glide through us and they breathe us they breathe us!  This wolf speaks to me, loves me, welcomes me and exits.  Such is the kind of wolf that would make friends with the epic whale.  Such are those that move the world.”

“Are you with me absent listeners?  Know that all stories have truth and tales and tales have lies and jest and distort.  All perception is your own to conquer, and by my brow, do not exhaust your sweat.  Save it for the race, the endless parade of the fortunate, you consumers and liars.  I love you.  Though I know nothing of how to love you.  I must.  For the wolf that leaves me after the morning has gone.  I must.  I could sleep forever in your absence.  For I know you exist.”

“The world has not ended, but for me, I will know it I know.  Sweet end, sweet overcoming.  When will the fight be enough?  For when all fighting goes over, I am the lion whose tail it chases.  By lions for lions, for wolves and whales and all creatures gone under.  And for you beasts!  What creature are you!?  What form have you taken!?  What have you become?  I’ve asked you here a thousand times.  I would have it here in my chest!  I would dig your sword deep into me!  Break past the skeleton you cowards your blade dug deep through me until I am not but blood and unrecognized!  End me!  You are fruit, and you hang by your birth!  I know!  I was there, I know your art, I am the fucking roots.  God I am the roots.”

Thus Spoke Scoochathustra

I googled myself out of curiosity.  I found out that I’m a writer in Greensboro and that I was mugged in 2010.  First things I saw.  Then, apparently, there’s some other guy that plays music somewhere with my name.  Verily I will have to keep writing so that his ass gets pushed off the list…because his music sucks…and it is ruining the o’ so splendid Connor McLean name.  Names are weird.

I watched the mugging video the news did.  Fucking dumb ass news coverage story.  I started crying afterwards.  Before I could really enjoy the cry I realized how weird it is to cry and it messed it up.  Unlike my brother, I never cry.  I really really don’t.  And I have absolutely no issues with crying, patriarchal bullshit has nothing to do with my inability.  I am sincerely concerned something horrible happened to my spirit after I was permanently deformed.  Something I am not even close to the bottom of.  I think violently daily.  I have for two years now.  I have never seen myself in a mirror or photo without the injury beaming out to me.  I can feel the injury every single moment of my life.  The numbness.  The paralysis.  I can feel it when people are to the right of me.  I can feel it when I’m looking into the beautiful eyes of another person, and they are looking back into mine.  I can feel it in every expression I make.  Every joke I make, every character I do, every time I attempt comic timing, I can feel it.  Every time I laugh, cry, frown, smile, and close my eyes, I can feel it.  There are worser things.  There are better things.  I wonder how much it affected my relationships.  Today I thought “fuck these tiny relationships.”

I will never have my face back.  Ever.  Conceive?  I don’t know how.

I can feel it every time confidence creeps over my mind and heart, and I feel good about myself, and handsome, I can feel it.  It is well beyond vanity.  There is much more to looking in a mirror and seeing yourself look back at you then vanity.  It is a place of comfort, nostalgia, strength, confidence.  One that I don’t have like I use to.

I got on google and it made me cry.  So, I will change that.

They tell us lies; the leaders do, and the followers do. They are everywhere. They might as well be the air that we breathe. So how could we protect ourselves from breathing in poison that drenches our lungs and recognize the fresh taste of truth? I don’t know.

And these false ideas flow through our own veins! We walk around making decisions and creating our lives with little monsters in our minds. So how could we ever be true, original, or ourselves? I don’t know.

We are followers from the beginning and thus condemned to never be leaders. Those who try to lead are hypocrites, and those who try and follow are fools. So we are all condemned to be fools, hypocrites, or worse: creatures who simply watch the fools and the hypocrites interact. I must admit to you and to myself that I am probably more of the third party. How can we live with ourselves and know these things? I don’t know.

They teach us what happiness is supposed to mean. This word is a goal they carve into our very souls from the beginning. To find it, to feel it, what it looks like, to smile when it comes around, that everything good comes out of being happy. But this all is a lie. Happiness; this word they feed us in every meal of our lives is dead as the thousands of bodies underground. How can we feel something that doesn’t actually exist? And further, how can we use such a thing to keep us at a good momentum? I don’t know.

Life. This is one thing we know is true for sure. And in a world where most everything is an ambiguous lie, take it or leave it as a fact, we all must start from the foundations and work our way up to create actual truth again. This is not easy, but it very well may be the only way to find the real meaning of happiness. Life is everywhere. It might as well be the air we breathe. It is very much tainted by the poison, but if you concentrate hard enough you can feel it rush through your blood, flow through your lungs, and beat in your heart. It is the very epitome of our truth. I know this.

I say to you “Fuck happiness, and find life.” The bond with life is undoubtedly astronomically more powerful than our interactions with happiness, as you may call them. “Life is in the eyes of the children.” This phrase comes from the Long tribe of Cherokee of which I am a descendant. Life can be as simple as feeling the breeze of the sea on a ferry. As a child, this was life caressing my face, and the very memory reminds me of that truth. Life can be as complicated as figuring out that you know absolutely nothing; and the fear, frustration, humility, and freedom that comes along with it. Tap into the truth a few times, and it will become very hard to ignore, I promise.

And then once we have mastered the demolition of happiness and harnessed truth in life we should not look to lead, but to be companions of one another; we should evoke life in other people; we should inspire and applaud everything that is clear and true. Not only should we converse in the good truth, but also grab the negative truth, the lies, and call them out for what they are. It is the only solution I know of to this death that we face every day.

Dear Grandpa,

I’m having a hard time believing that you are gone. You left us without any warning or a goodbye. What I wouldn’t do to hear you sing your off-tuned version of  ”Good morning to you” one last time!  We were left unprepared for the hurt that comes with losing you. I hope you know how much you meant to me. I hope you know just how much I appreciated everything you did for me. More importantly, I hope you understand just how much you taught me. You were content listening to classical music, taking your daily walks, and reading your history books. You liked to keep things simple and uncomplicated. You were a man of few words. When you said something it was important, it was special, and when you said “I love you” I knew you really meant it.

Without even realizing it, or maybe you did, you taught me probably the most important lesson anyone could teach me. You taught me what it meant to love someone. I grew up hearing about how when you met Grandma you knew she was going to be your wife. You were the loves of each other’s lives. When Grandma was sick you stood by your vows, through sickness and through health. You embodied your marriage vows and when she died a piece of you went with her. Every ounce of your body, every part of your soul was devoted to loving Grandma. I grew up in awe of the two of you. I knew that love, true, rock you to your core, can’t live without it, love existed. Without even realizing it I knew I couldn’t settle for less then what you two had. I wanted someone who made me laugh, someone who made me a better person, someone who challenged me, someone who would stand by me no matter what, someone who loved me despite my flaws, someone I could learn with, and grow old with. Knowing your love story taught me that I deserved the same, that I deserved someone who would love me as deeply and as strongly as you loved Grandma. You taught me that I needed to find the person I would love back with every ounce of my soul, you taught me that this was possible and not an enigma that people dream about. You showed me that I could find that special someone and I hope you know that I found him. I didn’t settle for a mediocre love, I didn’t fall for a cliche’,  but I found a love worthy of your love story. I knew I wanted what you and Grandma had and I found it, or he found me.

While I am having a hard time accepting your death, what makes it a little more bearable is the idea that you are now with Grandma again. Today was surprisingly, uncharacteristically, sunny and warm for January. I would like to think that it was your way of telling us that you are ok. I imagine you holding hands with Grandma, back together, where you belong, watching over us with John Denver playing in the background. While we are all in pain right now, knowing that you are back with the love of your life helps us. You will forever be on my mind and in my heart for I will never let you go.

I miss you and I love you.

Your Granddaughter

What is this love?

It is high, though not the highest.

It envelops you,

as you slide your rosy spectacles up your nose.

Let the world refocus

When two like-souls dance,

love elevates them from the confines of known truth.

The merging of energies,

the terror of possibility.

Let it lift you

Allow for it

Fear not the fall,

skinned knees and broken hearts

have an agreement with the universe.

Change is constant, transformation imminent.

Find freedom in that