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Wisdom from Brooke
8 June 2008 08:41Sometimes a forrest needs to burn, so that it may regrow.
Growing Pains
23 March 2008 03:27Regardless of the mode of transportation, more often than not, I travel alone. There is a freedom, and a respite for leaving society at the wayside and venturing out on ones own.
Because after a period of time, society, and members of "society" can drive one batty.
In my 31 years on planet earth, I've met a few people. A few hundred people. Especially traveling, more specifically those individuals that click with you. Like Kara. Easy example. Like Judd, like Todd in Rome, or Liz in New Orleans, Barbie in California. The French dude on the train. The list could go on.
I have to laugh. Talked to someone on-line yesterday, and I described Kara leaving me, as an IT. Like it was an object, an alien, a noun.
The catcher in the rye. Trying to save everyone from leaping off the cliff, and not saving yourself. A theory I held, untill recently, as Bible. I thought I was responsible in keeping in contact with everyone I had met. That was my "assumed" mission in life. An impossible and bizzare goal, but one I had stock in.
Yes, there are those individuals who will always be in ones life, regardless of other events or factors. Then there are those individuals who leave. Some sooner than others, each in his or her time.
As organisims, we human beings, grow. Both physically, and mentally. We have the ability to change, to mold ourselves. And yes, sometimes, more often than not-people grow apart. Humans die, we relocate to other parts of the planet, self-absorption, soccer practice, and other obligations.
Or maybe, just maybe, as a free thinker, there comes a point or realization, that the purpose of said people, or persons who came into our lives at that specific time, is completed. There was a reason, and the conclusion is over. Time to move on, to grow.
As human beings, each of us enter the world alone, and die alone. And although there are passangers along the way...we walk alone....
Because after a period of time, society, and members of "society" can drive one batty.
In my 31 years on planet earth, I've met a few people. A few hundred people. Especially traveling, more specifically those individuals that click with you. Like Kara. Easy example. Like Judd, like Todd in Rome, or Liz in New Orleans, Barbie in California. The French dude on the train. The list could go on.
I have to laugh. Talked to someone on-line yesterday, and I described Kara leaving me, as an IT. Like it was an object, an alien, a noun.
The catcher in the rye. Trying to save everyone from leaping off the cliff, and not saving yourself. A theory I held, untill recently, as Bible. I thought I was responsible in keeping in contact with everyone I had met. That was my "assumed" mission in life. An impossible and bizzare goal, but one I had stock in.
Yes, there are those individuals who will always be in ones life, regardless of other events or factors. Then there are those individuals who leave. Some sooner than others, each in his or her time.
As organisims, we human beings, grow. Both physically, and mentally. We have the ability to change, to mold ourselves. And yes, sometimes, more often than not-people grow apart. Humans die, we relocate to other parts of the planet, self-absorption, soccer practice, and other obligations.
Or maybe, just maybe, as a free thinker, there comes a point or realization, that the purpose of said people, or persons who came into our lives at that specific time, is completed. There was a reason, and the conclusion is over. Time to move on, to grow.
As human beings, each of us enter the world alone, and die alone. And although there are passangers along the way...we walk alone....
Of House and Home
18 March 2008 03:08I feel 100% better today, than I have been in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, I'm getting back in the swing of things. If all goes well, I'm planning on hitting up early rise yoga at 5:15 a.m., after cardio on the tred mill at 0430. I NEED to get back to my gym routine. Not only does it reduce stress, I just feel so much better.
I realised last night, that I have failed to write anything substantial about the cruise. I mean, I did a little big of conversation on the subject, but not the meat and potatoes of the whole ordeal. Not that it isn't just a big blur of my memory, but for some reason, I just never really have journaled about it.
Partly because the moment I set foot in the house, I was bombarded by tasks that needed to be completed, and my house-sitter felt it necessary to inform me of his medical problems, than ask me how my vacation was.
Kirk and I already booked for next year, though we both vowed to take a year off. The same room, on a ship that is currently being built. I'm not sure where we are crusing to exactly, and that information isn't important. The important thing is that I'm going again, and I'm quite excited about it.
Second time around, it was a family reunion. There were many of the same party animals on from the year before. Very comforting. My favorite couple was the old jewish man, and his friend from the Bronx. They can out chain-smoke and drink anyone.
Robert from Atlanta was yet another surprise. He was in on last years cruise, and a familiar face is always a good thing to have around.
This year I took costumes. Select items, that made a splash around the boat. Specifically the infamous 6 inch clear STILLETTOS, that I wore off and on during the day. They became my tradmark. On the last night-I wore them to dinner. Formal four course sit down dinner. Phenom. I'm imortalised in many many many other peoples photos.
The entire week was so enjoyable, relaxing, and gave me time to get away from hospital politics and the cell phone, and the internet, to just... be. I definately would say I have a new outlook on life, and am all the well because of it. I really drank and smoked way too much....
A gay cruise isn't for everyone. The question arises if the "secret circle" (my social group here in Rochester), would be interested in it. Interested, yes. The problem is financial, and these bad boy cruises are NOT cheap. It is comparable to 2 weeks in Europe, to give you an idea. But whatever. Its so worth it.
The most memorable experience? Dancing on the back of the boat, in a shortly lived down pour of rain, in the middle of the ocean, with a full moon giving light, with 1/2 dressed men, to "Its raining men".
That made me feel---just alive.
I realised last night, that I have failed to write anything substantial about the cruise. I mean, I did a little big of conversation on the subject, but not the meat and potatoes of the whole ordeal. Not that it isn't just a big blur of my memory, but for some reason, I just never really have journaled about it.
Partly because the moment I set foot in the house, I was bombarded by tasks that needed to be completed, and my house-sitter felt it necessary to inform me of his medical problems, than ask me how my vacation was.
Kirk and I already booked for next year, though we both vowed to take a year off. The same room, on a ship that is currently being built. I'm not sure where we are crusing to exactly, and that information isn't important. The important thing is that I'm going again, and I'm quite excited about it.
Second time around, it was a family reunion. There were many of the same party animals on from the year before. Very comforting. My favorite couple was the old jewish man, and his friend from the Bronx. They can out chain-smoke and drink anyone.
Robert from Atlanta was yet another surprise. He was in on last years cruise, and a familiar face is always a good thing to have around.
This year I took costumes. Select items, that made a splash around the boat. Specifically the infamous 6 inch clear STILLETTOS, that I wore off and on during the day. They became my tradmark. On the last night-I wore them to dinner. Formal four course sit down dinner. Phenom. I'm imortalised in many many many other peoples photos.
The entire week was so enjoyable, relaxing, and gave me time to get away from hospital politics and the cell phone, and the internet, to just... be. I definately would say I have a new outlook on life, and am all the well because of it. I really drank and smoked way too much....
A gay cruise isn't for everyone. The question arises if the "secret circle" (my social group here in Rochester), would be interested in it. Interested, yes. The problem is financial, and these bad boy cruises are NOT cheap. It is comparable to 2 weeks in Europe, to give you an idea. But whatever. Its so worth it.
The most memorable experience? Dancing on the back of the boat, in a shortly lived down pour of rain, in the middle of the ocean, with a full moon giving light, with 1/2 dressed men, to "Its raining men".
That made me feel---just alive.
Coffee Drinkers are less likely to committ suicide.
Fun Factoid for a Saturday Afternoon. From the book "..Or Not To be" a Collection of Suicide Notes" by Marc Etkind. I picked it off the crammed bookshelves to flip through while I pitch a loaf on the porcilin toliet.
It is one of many books that line the bookshelves. It sits upright among the Home Improvement 1-2-3 hardbound orange cover reference guide, nearby a collection of gay nude images, and right above books on Keith Haring, Annie Lebovitz, and Dali. Kelly and I discovered it ("or not to be") back in our informative years, and being the morbid, goth-esque cemetary children that we were, this suited us well. The book, self described on the introduction,is good old fashioned literary pornography. Diving into the private lives of the accused who are no longer able to defend themselves. Much like reading a journal.
I've been trying to purge. Cleaning truely is therapy, letting into the elements, the physical and emotional shackles that bind us to the past, or the present, in both regards. Brushing off the dirt, moving it to another place.
Yet as much as one purges, as much as the bulimic tosses his or her stomache, there are those physical (or mental) objects that one refuses to let go: the gift from your parents that you refuse to dispose of, to prohibit ill feelings, your favorite sweater laying in threads and is too small, the letter from Grandma-her last example of sketchy handwritting, journals, the smell of the air, feel of the wind, taste of the salt on a sea barring vessel-that type of thing....
And that is a good thing. These totems of existance. Of comfort. Of sitting down and eating a pint of Coffee Ice cream with a steaming cup of fresh ground coffee mixed in with water in a french press, awaing to be siped as the evening comes to arrive on ones front poarch.
I'm doing good. Don't assume otherwise. Its the conversation that breeds new brain cells and intellectual thought. Its the conversation that breeds new ideals, new theories and feeds the creative process. Its the caffine that breeds energy, and bags of chocholate I'll purchase at the local grocery store along with starbucks that feeds the hunger.
Its time for more coffee... *smile*
Fun Factoid for a Saturday Afternoon. From the book "..Or Not To be" a Collection of Suicide Notes" by Marc Etkind. I picked it off the crammed bookshelves to flip through while I pitch a loaf on the porcilin toliet.
It is one of many books that line the bookshelves. It sits upright among the Home Improvement 1-2-3 hardbound orange cover reference guide, nearby a collection of gay nude images, and right above books on Keith Haring, Annie Lebovitz, and Dali. Kelly and I discovered it ("or not to be") back in our informative years, and being the morbid, goth-esque cemetary children that we were, this suited us well. The book, self described on the introduction,is good old fashioned literary pornography. Diving into the private lives of the accused who are no longer able to defend themselves. Much like reading a journal.
I've been trying to purge. Cleaning truely is therapy, letting into the elements, the physical and emotional shackles that bind us to the past, or the present, in both regards. Brushing off the dirt, moving it to another place.
Yet as much as one purges, as much as the bulimic tosses his or her stomache, there are those physical (or mental) objects that one refuses to let go: the gift from your parents that you refuse to dispose of, to prohibit ill feelings, your favorite sweater laying in threads and is too small, the letter from Grandma-her last example of sketchy handwritting, journals, the smell of the air, feel of the wind, taste of the salt on a sea barring vessel-that type of thing....
And that is a good thing. These totems of existance. Of comfort. Of sitting down and eating a pint of Coffee Ice cream with a steaming cup of fresh ground coffee mixed in with water in a french press, awaing to be siped as the evening comes to arrive on ones front poarch.
I'm doing good. Don't assume otherwise. Its the conversation that breeds new brain cells and intellectual thought. Its the conversation that breeds new ideals, new theories and feeds the creative process. Its the caffine that breeds energy, and bags of chocholate I'll purchase at the local grocery store along with starbucks that feeds the hunger.
Its time for more coffee... *smile*
