....Except Me and My Monkey *finished* or the Art of Acting

*Stares at the screen and after finishing coffee decided that it's time.*

The problem with me being over exposed is that it leaves me emotionally open to others. It gives me hope in the human family and that people honestly want to do what is right. Bullshit.

I have to be honest. I'm angry now and my defenses are back up and running. Anger is the best way to snap me back in my regular stride and to silence the optimist that think there is hope for humanity. Fuck humanity. I've learned long ago that if you're an optimist romantic the world will teach you to become a pessimist very quickly. There are only a few times the human spirit can take life kicking down it's sandcastle before it reaches over and strangles the destructive fucker.

It's the difference between reacting, acting, and being proactive.

I'll give you a perfect example.

When I went to campus yesterday to pick up my check, the shared joke is that we are all there for money. It's almost sad how a room full of people can be so petty and shallow if we forget to mention how we are paid so little for a service that not only calls for magnificence, an open spirit, and a dedication that leaves you open and often unprotected. Sadly, a good amount of us waited for our checks to arrive until we were all told that there was a fluke and checks either didn't exist or had to be remade.

I knew my check would only be ready on Friday. A week away from me being dirt poor. As the old joke used to go I'm Po' because I can't afford the "or" to be poor. I'm used to it, yet I knew deep inside that the lack of true leadership and vision or simply following through and allowing others to do things without checking up on them. I'm used to the vacuum of leadership. The fact that people who I'm supposed to take instruction from are those who do less than me and demand more from me than they are willing to do. That fact that they want me to conform to their ideal of what is best when in truth their best is mediocre on a good day.

Perhaps it's because I've been around true leaders at a young age. I've lived to hear the words, "Follow me" instead "do this". I known people who have given me an objective and a blank map and a deadline and allowed me to become innovative and brilliant as I now inspire anyone who ask me for time, advice and assistance on vision. I've learned the meaning of making things from nothing and to pull magnificence from failure. True leaders allow you to handle the work instead of looking over your shoulder. Real leaders support those they placed in the position to get the task on hand done while they take care of what matters like paychecks, hours recorded, materials and an honest answer to keep me on task. The best words you can tell someone is always, "I got this shit, keep doing what you're doing."

Instead I'm surrounded by those who react. They wait and sit staring at what is wrong with those they placed trust in. Micromanagement in a moment that demands leadership. The trust given to those who are supposed to deliver and take away worry has failed. Although I'm not sadden by the fact that I have to make non existent ends meet because it's not the first time and I'm in no way surprised. This is how an optimist becomes a pessimist. When you pull out all the daggers al la Cesar from your back and realize why you were abandoned, left in the open, abused and even mocked, ridiculed and slandered by those who you are suppposed to have faith in.

Sorry, but faith is for charlatans and liars.

To act on all of this I understand that I must be diplomatic and not hasty to respond. I must hold my tongue until it becomes civil and understand how I must always remain with a smile to counter act this. If I was a weak man I would have reacted and raised my voice and hell's fury with it. Instead I know that these are just the numerous sling and arrows of those who planned on getting back at me for one trespass or another. It's the price for having an auditorium filling with cheering people chanting your name or why I'm never foolish enough to take bows from a hungry audience whist my detractors and critics silently plot with cunning eyes. A moment in the sun only allows those to get a better aim at you and in truth is only for the shallow. Those who seek recognition instead of placing their all into what must be done. Those who would rather celebrate instead of toiling with you when it honestly counts.

That and I enjoy the fact that others will give me credit for making a difference instead of demanding attention. Are you getting any of this Kenye? Probably not.

So to act, I play the french role of looking unto the heaven with a small sigh and a "ce'la vi". I give no one their satisfaction of anguish and hurt. The bitter fruit of my suffering to those who have either plotted for it or who would simply enjoy taking a bite from it. Yes, life is going to be tough for the next few days, but I've lived harder. I seen difficulty and wept bitter tears for things that still stand as reminders and drive to never let happen again. I am poor for now, but not for tomorrows to come. I've earned my patience and know that time moves faster with busy hands rather than eyes focused on clocks.

There is still much to be done.

The secret of all is to be proactive. I think this is my optimist self surviving through my pessimist. It's that loving spirit that I protect so much that yearns to be free and to seek out those eyes of the storm that allows me to be as close to who I am. I'm not allowed to be who I am, cause to be who I am I'm easily one who gets hurt. I'm the one to sit and cry for the betrayals and lack of protection that was supposed to be given by my fellow species. Instead I picked up the works of Machiavelli, Sun Tzu, and Musashi in order to not only see through the fog of my personal war with ineptitude, cruelty and stupidity, but to plan ahead in strong places to prevent anyone from hurting me ever. I see those with ulterior motives or with just chaos in mind and prevent them from getting close. There are times when they do and much time is gathered in making sure they can not do so again. The more I remain proactive the more I smile in future moments.

For those who wanted to understand why my name was chanted in that auditorium and mayhps not theirs? It's because I shared with those around me this little truth. It's because not only did I help other find their voice and to know the value of it, but to ensure that they will always be heard not in reaction, but in proactive movement that unites us all and makes us better as a whole rather than divided and torn asunder by those who benefit from our hurt and suffering. I simply have paid forward to those who taught me, have died teaching me, and have left me alone with a task at hand.

I honor my dead by doing what is right and freeing as many minds as possible. To make equals if not those who will surpass me. To show them that they are valuable to me then the riches of the world and that anyone who have made them lowly have lied to them. I've loved everyone in my quick season before my end will come. I remain to do so until I can not hide anymore and my time to leave is reached. I live an eternal example of sacrifice that is too deep for the shallow minded and can not honestly see the value of blood spilt for an idea that frees and unify rather than binds and restricts.

Great men and women have done this. I only relive their memory of what they have given a worthless, ugly child lost in a world too sharp for his skin. All in the hopes that someone else will take my place when time arises.

Why?

Because I love you all. I love you in the same way those have loved me and I could not understand. I paid my dues and now understand that if you honestly love someone, give them freedom. You do not question who they are, but take part in finding out who they are. You nurture without reserve and offer an oasis in such a harsh world.

It's not my name that was chanted, but the name of those in a long line that have done what was needed to be done.

How I miss them.

....

Time to be who I need to be rather than who I am.

....Except Me and My Monkey *unfinished*

*stares at the screen and wonders if it's the right time to share the thought he'd held on to for so long. He sighs deep wanting some sort of strong drink and glances at the bottle near him only to look away. he would not depend on pills the same way. He begins to write and hopes it comes out without too many twists and turns and no nights of a strong subconscious and nightmares of reopened graves buried so long ago.*

It's kind of a tough moment for me actually. I've feel a bit over exposed and what I want the most especially at this time is to just lock myself in for a few days and just mentally recover. I get like this twice a year. This case I'm like this because I've given more of myself that I usually do for a higher goal. It's when I force myself to go against everything I've learned and to put myself in the open and to wear my heart on my sleeve. You can't inspire those to do what is needed to be done with words without an example of faith and hope. It's like dancing poorly in front of an audience without shame and smiling widely at a stranger in hopes of inspiring the same smile. It calls for confidence and the lack of regret. Something that I often have a decent store of both, but in moments like these I often over extend myself and leave myself emotionally open.

And right now I'd rather stand naked in front of all then to feel like this.

You never gave me your pillow
You only gave me your invitation
And in the middle of the celebration
I break down

I know I'll shake this off. I'm not one to feel this way, especially since I abandoned this all so many lives ago for something of greater substance, and yet I can't help feeling that it was all for the greater good. For a moment of my life I abandon the restraints of my mind which force me to remain reserved, calm and collected for the passion that burns in my so deep that it restraints and fear of those who have hurt me before. I give up the safety and solitude of the shadows I've grown so used to for the brightest spot in the sun to entice those near me to bask in it not in a small moment, but as part of their birth right. And yet, I know I can not live in the manner that I promote for too long. Some of us wear our scars on the outside while those of us wear them deeper and from the view of others.

You know what....I can't finish this now. I just can't.

Vagabond

I've been fobbed off, and I've been fooled.
I've been robbed and ridiculed.
In day care centers and night school.
Handle me with care

I've never been one to be forced into anything.

Falling asleep on a couch that only someone half my size and double my flexibility can find comfort in, I opened eyes and looked into a dying phone to notice that only a half hour have come to pass. Being removed from my usual methods of diversion, I've soon began to question my necessity on staying in one place and more the majority of that time to my own missing devices until I would return home and lay my weary head. Perhaps it's due to the lack of sleep due to fools who hold irregular hours of slumber for the benifit to avoid sunlight all together. Mayhaps the lack of funds and rush to arrive to campus has left my metabolism dangerously close to annoyance and have removed any patience from my being. Perhaps I simply felt the pull on a rising moon and my vagabond shoes call me to distant roads and my uncanny ability to disappear from those who assume I will always be. What ever excuse I've decided to leave.

I never question why I would want to leave. Ever since I've paid my due in lifetimes, I do not question why I have an urge to do what ever I fancy. I simply go with instinct and see what crosses my path. There have been moments in time where I've denied myself the instinct and have suffered consequences I'd would not go into or desire to explain. I searched my bag the only only permission I would need and pulled enough pocket change to ensure a bottle of tamarindo soda or in this case my passage home. I've traveled my way before in worse conditions in which I would suffer a sprained ankle, food poisoning, a debilitating injury or just the bother of having to depend on myself as I've have so many years ago. This would be no different and would be less of a burden on myself and young lovers.

My paths are always chosen on times of days, who I'm attempting to avoid, and how much of a window I have to make myself scarce. On this day I had the entire day to get home. I've never was one to sit and wait upon what I can get for myself at the moment, even if depending on anyone else would simply be easier to myself. Ducking through buildings and hallways, I've understand the Art of Disappearing which is a combination of not being in plain view and avoiding the sight of those who look for me. If in a daring mood I've often tailed those who search for me close enough to avoid detection or even used devices that made me socially invisible to their need or grasp. Having several stalkers, including an ex wife with more time than decency have taught me that I'm close to immortal if at inches away from the grasp of a reaching hand.

Perhaps a lifetime of being used, abused, tossed aside and sold for scrap that would resemble a Traveling Wilburys song have made me a bit distant and cold yet with a dancer's tease. I've always understood the cruel nature of people regardless if they mean their actions or not. A cut worm does not question the blade that have torn it apart or the meaning of the action, but simply dies. Apologies are for those who seek a quick absolution from guilt and not as a forward for their redemption. If allowed to, the ones closest to you will gut you alive and leave your wounded. Asking if it was on purpose or not is simply for those who wish to survive with some understanding on how a kind world have failed.

I simply refuse to answer the whys in moments like these. They don't ease pain.

Upon feeling asphalt under my feet, I've discovered myself once more. Taking small moments of resolve and silence have always been a form of sanity in moments like these. The warm sun beats down as I lift missing post and return it to the carrier with only a "good day" as a response. A message on a pole advises me that my new friend may have a home after all only to discover that he will not be free of vagabond chains and the missing have been found once more. Small treasures are found within my path and even the smile or two from faces too young to know the weight of the world, yet wise enough to offer sanctuary from it.

My walk is fulfilling, uneventful, and relaxing. Arriving at my destination I look towards my hands and realize that I'm far too short to join in those already in line. I thank the driver for waiting and ask him to make his way forward. Digging within my bag I pull more than needed and minutes later I take part on the express. I will be home in an hour rather than three. Just enough time to enjoy my paper, look outside the window when it offers a sight or two, and enough to wonder how far is Colorado, Ohio, Morocco, or my final escape. My mind drifts to the special places where I seek refuge counting those I've gained over the years and abandoning the ones tainted with time. I added a few to the list and took in the satisfaction that there are places that I did not exist, matter or needed to set actions into motion.

I wonder if this is how those who live feel all the time?

Walking into the sun once more I finally feel the weight on my shoulders. A nap will help with my mood and my need to center myself. My season is done and time is almost up. Why not take a moment to close my eyes and feel nothing. Walking up steps the door open and I see smiles on faces I've missed far too long. They know what I need the most as they let me sit in silence until I announce that I can use a bit of water and sleep. They move heaven and earth aside and I find the setting sun on my chest, a warm body curled at my side, and a hint of a kiss on my brow. It's nice to know that someone understands me without a word.

My mind drifts to nothing. I become the moment and sleep deeply with few voices declaring violence to others if my slumber disturbed. I forget the needs of others and become what I once was and what I will not be soon. A few times I feel my hand land heavy as voices raise themselves slightly and mongrels kicked out to allow me to rest. I am not the enforcer or a Machiavellian tactician, but simply me.

I finally rest and for once I feel that I'm the center of someone's world who want nothing from me but peace.

I will miss these moments but will treasure them when I have to be what others need once more.

I've been uptight and made a mess.
But I'll clean it up myself, I guess.
Oh, the sweet smell of success.
Handle me with care.