Haters

I saw Transformers: Rise of the Fallen over the weekend.
I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Action, comedy, and a bit of drama; all that you would expect from a summer blockbuster.
I guess more people are cynical than me. I figured this out when I was exiting the theater and one of the many friends I went with was loudly declaring his disapproval of the movie.
The internet is filled with people sharing his sentiment.

I can understand to an extent I suppose.
Some people don't like movies like Transformers because of the fame they get while other movies make far less and are equally as good.
I like all kinds of movies and yes, I enjoyed this one very much.

Basically, I just think people like having a reason to bitch.
Music, movies, books. Some people are always going to want to complain and be miserable.
Not every movie is going to be Donnie Darko, not every album is going to be Tell All Your Friends, and not every book is going to be The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

I just think people would do right by themselves to broaden their damn horizons.
If bitching makes you happy, that's great, but I would rather take the joy in things I can.

I mean I really don't like country music, but I kinda enjoy Garth Brooks songs when I hear them.

The glass is half full.

Take happiness where you can get it. Even if it is in something you don't necessarily like.

and smile.
People always look better when they smile.

Frowns are so unattractive.

I should put you in the ground

It is late.
I am behind the wheel of my well worn Blazer.
Issac Brock is singing to me about black Cadillacs.
Lightning silently warns from behind clouds at a distance.
I pass places that used to mean something to me.
Then I come home.
I like driving at night.
You can be honest with yourself when nobody is around.

You can't make someone who doesn't love you anymore love you again

Watching figures romance each other on a lighted screen doesn't make anything better.
Neither do late night monologues.

It doesn't make your failed relationship okay.
It doesn't make it okay that you have no idea how to be a father.
It doesn't change your failed friendships.
It doesn't make it okay that you consistently disappoint the people you love.
The fact you have no idea where your life is going.

Neither does the drinks you've had.
Neither does being quiet about how you feel.

Neither does going to bed without saying a word.
Neither does throwing away mementos of a time long passed.
Neither does pretending a kiss or anything else means something to someone who is completely done with you.

Nothing makes any of it okay. You just are. And that's the best you have.
You have to live with it. As little as you want to.

Priorities

I am 20 years old.
That is two decades of life.
I am a man, sort of.
I am a man in the fact that I have all the correct male appendages,
I can be drafted and sent to fight wars,
I can be tried as an adult,
and I passed the age of 18, barely.

I am also a boy, sort of.
I am a boy in that I still read comic books,
I still fantasize about being in a rock band,
I sing in the shower (and car),
I still have trouble expressing how I feel.

I have a wealth of family and friends.
I have a beautiful son who is growing up faster than I can comprehend.
I live on my own in an apartment, sort of.

I love my life.
I am humbled and grateful for the things I have experienced.
There is a rift though.
I know I am on the cusp of something life altering and possibly heartbreaking.
This is exciting and terrifying at the same time.

I am just now learning to like myself again.
This is the first time in a long time.

I have this best friend (the best human being I have ever known), she told me once:
"Work on making yourself happy before you try making anyone else that way."

Now that I am finally starting to make myself happy,
I could not be more confused about my life and what it means.

With all the confusion though,
this man-boy is appreciative of the small things:
a hand to hold,
a bed to share occasionally,
random texts,
and an individual who, for whatever reason, doesn't ever count him out.

15 Step

How come I end up where I started?
How come I end up where I went wrong?
Won't take my eyes off the ball again
You reel me out then you cut the string

How come I end up where I started?
How come I end up where I went wrong?
I won't take my eyes off the ball again
First you reel me out and then you cut the string

You used to be all right
What happened?
Did the cat get your tongue?
Did your string come undone?

One by one
In procession
It comes to us all
It's as soft as your pillow

You used to be all right
What happened?
Et cetera, et cetera
Fads for whatever
Fifteen steps
Then a sheer drop

How come I end up where I started?
How can I end up where I went wrong?
Won't take my eyes off the ball again
You reel me out and you cut the string