Perfectly Painted Drive

The drive had been more beautiful than the other thousand times he had driven it. The air had been cooling down and fall had phoned and was on it's way. The trees were still green, all but a few. The road's wind and swell was more moving than it have ever been. Or that he'd ever noticed at least. The windows weren't down, but begged to be. The music soft and more than majestic. Perhaps Copland or Bach but no real distinction. More like looking at a page of too small print, the letters, the words not jumping out or off the page, but appearing as an imperfect blob of black.

Reality had escaped to surrealism and he was happily lost in it. The sun setting on the horizon, finding a perfect spot to cozy down between the trees. Using the mirror of the lake to display it's beautiful sleeping tradition. Settling in around it all the colors of the suns best friends. The artist and his clouds. His pallet must have been full of every color, not sparing a single ounce of effort or beauty for another sunset. Some clouds manicured to perfection by the greatest cake designers. Others to imperfection by the clumsy touch of amateurs.

He continued to stream down the road, all worries a minute behind. The metal guard rails had turned to wooden ones, and then finally disappeared. That uplifting feeling kept hitting him bluntly and with the same relief and tranquility of the woods. The sun chose it's moments and continued to wink through the trees. He could see the fog rolling in on the bridge over the lake ahead. It's entrance guarded by tall trees, reaching their arms wide and far to obscure the entrance. The view came more quickly than anticipated, and was gone even quicker. The sun displayed itself in all of it's glory. He took a deep breath but couldn't regain all that had been taken from him. The relief of the fog, the swell of the music, the whole picture directly perfectly and with seamless transition.

Life's circle had just been full, but only for that second. The music died down, and went from one symphony to another. The bridge disappeared in the rear view mirror, and too closely paralleled life's cycle for the him. He focused on the shift of the car, the hum of the tires and the running road ahead and his role in catching it. He looked toward the next curve, the unknown, the possible. He desired it more, the idea of better. The geese accompanied him, a new wing man, shadowing the car now in the near absence of the suns rays, as it had finally retired it's playful game. He turned the knob and allowed the melody to envelop him. He pressed the gas a little harder and his hands followed suit, tight around the wheel. He was unsure of the reality of it all.  Was it all a dream? If it was, he did not want to believe it. The squeezing of his vision gripped tighter as he gazed forward, the future, the excitement of the endless pursuit of the road in front. He looked again for the sun. It had vanished. It's cat and mouse game with him was finally over.

The speed increased. His breath steadied. Focused on the perfection in the imperfect world, the driver behind the wheel smiled.

Civility, Our Final Stand

I no longer feel all alone. Rutgers New York of all places has joined me on this bus that seems to be going nowhere. HLN even reported it. Comforting and warm, like the light on is all it feels like. Civility they call it. Squelching the fires of rudeness, which has all too recently been scorching the earth, humanity.

Today, sitting in the barber chair, a now stronger tradition on Sunday's than Church, or even Football, I saw the awe-striking developments with my beloved Robin Meade. Apparently I'm not the only one who has not just noticed the rapid decline of how we treat each other in public, but I'm not the only one who cares to do something about it. Rutgers University is implementing a program to help people become more aware of their actions. Decrease their rudeness and help at least a small section of this world return to grandeur days of compassion and consideration of those who surround us, ie. you and I.

The idea that we can return to a more civil society is certainly daunting. In recent years, with technology and convenience having such an effect on a day to day lifestyles, it's hard to imagine putting any effort into being kinder and more caring for one another, let alone strangers, and even with the possibility of actually helping one another out. It's certainly not a popular idea.

Shows on television that the youth of our nation watch so emphatically whether to live by or make fun of still have such an irrefutable effect on the way we view acceptable across society. We have so called "icons" who are nothing but detrimental to society and feel like no rules apply to them based on our praise and their holiness because of that. The Jersey Shore crew, Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan. These are individuals that should not even be considered people. They give nothing to society. They have no positive affluence on the way Americans should live their lives. And yet, we praise and prod and encourage this kind of behavior. Some even live to be exactly the same.

To stop this cascading, rolling, picking up steam, time bomb, avalanche is not going to be easy. It's hard to imagine and I doubt very highly that we've allowed that many stupid people, that verge of idiocracy to creep so heavily into the lead train of thought for our nation. I know that's not the majority of how people think or want to act, or even treat others. But the majority is silent and bending, and willing to let the minority groups benefit as a whole, willing to suffer for the better of the few than the better of the many. California is getting rid of metal baseball bats in High School Baseball because of one instance where a kid was killed by a line drive.

Our fore-fathers are rolling in their graves. We created a society, a government that was for the people. The majority of people. Not to make a rule for every exception, to protect every single person, but to protect what is best for everybody. If we stopped doing things, made it illegal, mitigated all the risks in everything that you could do that you could possibly die doing; what could you do? Live in a plastic bubble that never moved.

So how do you reverse the flux? How do you get the water back in the tank, stop the flush. Society is headed for a terrible demise in this country if we don't start doing something now. Eliminate the extremists on both the left and the right could considerably help. The tea party'ers, the Koran burners, the soccer moms, and liberals? As nice as it would be to Lord of the Flies them onto an island, we have to use more ethical means of extermination. Make the voice of the many what it should always be. Loud. Call shotgun, and driver too. Get out of the backseat and be heard. We let the voice of the few out ring the voice of the many.

It's time to start singing.

The NIA'S and How Sweet Their Sound/Beauty

I like sunrises better than sunsets. However I like the night better than the day, just not the segway to reach it. Mornings have become my new thing, and although I generally have to struggle to shake the caked over not ready eyes and limbs and mind, I enjoy that crisp feel of a brand new day. The sun starting to shine, but not letting it's rays effect me or anything else in the world. Untouched and pure.

Summer is coming to an end, and I could've thought it was worse in Iraq last year, but can only think of how seemingly miserable this one was. With the sweat of the south and it's thick air and putrid humidity, it led plenty to be desired. Even the occasional escape to the beach was met by all too warm of water and a salty taste that couldn't even be washed out by shower. I'm looking forward to this fall and all that it holds. Never having seasons for the first 20 years of my life has made me really appreciate the ones I now live through.

Carolina is a beautiful state, and most of the songs must have been written in it's gentle falls and weeks days or even hours after the poets of our time could have forgotten of the misery that her summer's had brought. Carolina must be a woman, so enchanting and remarkable, and yet so unforgiving and malice. The period is over and she's taken her chill pill.

I thought that Carolina and California songs could only be convenience most of the time, mainly because they are very easy to write into a song. But their majesty certainly has played a bigger role than pure pitch and hook.   The little of the United States I've lived in, the length of time, my experience isn't broad, but it's focused and rewarding. I've figured out one thing that's for sure, for real. A truth to my life that finally is back in black and white and has lost it's shades of gray. I will live where the weather is temperate. Less extremes. More sweaters, hoodies and facial hair.

Sunday Perspective

I like Sunday mornings better than Sunday afternoons. There is something refreshing about those Sunday mornings. It's a daisy, but quicker to wilt. That afternoon sunlight, it brings the poor connotations. An in between of my two favorite times.

I've been going through some changes, and perspective is the hardest. I've always been positive, and with so much always happening in my life, sometimes I have to wait till it's over to give a pat on the back and feel the pride of accomplishment when all is said and done. I focus too much on the moment and sometimes to much on the future. That balance isn't as blind as justice and sometimes I wish it were.

I'd never felt some emotions. That's changing rapidly and I try and count it as learning. I haven't been working hard enough in to many locations in my life. For a chronic self-proclaimed self-improver this leaves a dirty taste in my mouth. It took awhile, but I've sucked the blood up from the proverbial cut on the lip and the tears have dried on the cheeks. I'm ready to live, and not for the wrong reasons, but all the right ones.

I miss the west coast, but not necessarily home. I know it would be a year and a half away but I'm not ready to move back home. My dreams always change, but stay the same. I know I want to see more of the world, but I'm undecided on which part to see. It's all perspective. It would be easier if we could just think it and it would change. Could change. I feel I'm wanted, just not always from who I want that emote to come from.

I look forward to the fall. It's not the spring but it's still a new beginning. The leaves changing are inspiring. The end of a cycle, the end of a phase, the death of what was. It's grief for loss, but excitement of new. It's all life. Circular. The passing of my Uncle was the toughest thing that has ever happened to me. I can take plenty from his life. Work hard to be as giving, as caring as he was. Impact others lives as he impacted mine. All for the best.

That's the falling of leaves. Changing and dying. Falling to the ground, but enriching the soil. Bringing the right minerals for the new life of the ground. The cold always passes over, and the new always takes something from the old. It's for the better, and sadly through the worst. It's perspective. It's taking the good from things. Taking the best of those you've loved and lost and letting them live through your actions. Create their immortality. Pass on their impact on you to the world.

Sunday afternoons are now red. Far from green, but still beautiful. They have promise of the morning and the history of the past. The time moves on, and I take all I can from it. Look forward towards tomorrow and everything Sunday afternoon has imparted on me.

I live for me, with them in mind, and your beauty in my heart.