Tag: perseverance

Behind The Scenes And In Front of The Insanity…..

Tonights Post Has Been Postponed Due To The Fact I am Burned The Hell Out from Doing a Load of FYB Behind the Scenes Bullshit.

I spent the Day trudging through a Back Log of Posts that need to be Categorized and Tagged. I’m Stubborn, Belligerent, and Stand Offish. I have No One else to Blame but Myself.

I Ignorantly Ignored Organization. Now I have the Unpleasant Pleasure of doing Damage Control. There  Hundreds of FYB Posts that Languish in the Infinite Uncategorized Digital Purgatory where Past Posts Linger Lost in Limbo That need Rescuing.

FYB Started to Get its shit Together Merely a Year ago, and there is Now an Increased Need for New Content. FYB is Primarily to Showcase My Writing along with a Couple Others, but FYB is Evolving None the Less. It’s Morphing into My Own Personal Online Oddities Shop of Sorts. A Way to Elaborate on My Other Interests Outside of Writing Alone.

My Shoulders are Cramped. My Eyes feel like to TVs stuck on Static. My Brain is Failing Me. Thinking Straight is becoming Increasingly Difficult. I’m well worn Out and fucking Exhausted. I must Rest and Regroup for Tomorrow’s Harrowing Adventures Toiling Away Burning the FYB Candle at Both Ends.

10-4 Over and Out,

  Les Sober (12:57 am)

N@P’s Artistic Advancements

N@P is the True Definition of a Renaissance Man with Many an Artistic Poker in Many an Artistic Fire.

I met N@P (as well as His Wonderful Wife) at Collage during an Art Class, and I can say without hesitation They are Not just Far Beyond Talented Artists, But some of The Nicest, Kindest, and Encouraging Individuals I have ever had the Pleasure of Meeting

N@P is like a Cerebral Shark in a Sea of Creativity He never Stops Swimming remaining inconstant Motion at all times. N@P has over come some Truly Amazing shit thats not a statement its a fucking fact.  For example if Someone says “Lighting Doesn’t Strike Twice” N@P can call Bullshit since He HAS been Struck by Lighting Twice, and Lived to Tell about it.

No Matter the Hurdle Life that presents in N@P’s Path along the way He Clears it through Sheer Perseverance and Strength of Both Mind and Spirit.

N@P simply can NOT be Deterred.

N@P can Simply NOT be Stopped.

N@P is NOT done.

AND TODAY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FYB HISTORY You the Reader will see what One of Us Here at FYB actually Looks like in Real Life.

Here is a New Youtube Video by N@P  who’s God Given Name is in Fact Nicholas (This is another FYB 1st: Using a Real Name of One of Our Friends/Family Member(s) so Surprise Bonus!)

It’s an Incredibly Intelligent and Amazingly Artistic Concept Helping to Provide Art to Those Who Live in Infinite Darkness.

If You enjoy Nicholas’s Video Please Like, Subscribe, and Share.

I know People are sick of hearing the “Like and Subscribe” deal because Youtubers say it every 15 fucking seconds, BUT Nicholas is an AUTHENTIC ARIST, and  NOT a wannabe YouTube Star.

Enjoy.

  Presented By Les Sober

Dreams Reunited?

I actually wrote the blog I’m about to type below offline. I had a very traumatic event (that I caused in full) which led to my banishment from a certain place. I will keep this matter private. The lesson here is do not brag about your lack of misfortune. It may and will come back to bite you in the ass.

DREAMS REUNITED?

Life is very strange on occassion. Well most of the time. People rise that were long thought to be dead. Misfortune brings some of us together; while

on other occassions good omens actually can tear people apart.

And in between all the quicksand, betwixt the most recent firestorm I created something strange occured. I began to become aware of my dreams.

Not the things I want to do in my life, not the things like that. But the dreams we all have occuring somewhere deep in our unconsciousness, deep in our sleep.

The dreams at first became apparent to me at a time I would least expect them to do so. I am under firm belief that these dreams came to me because of my recent alcohol blackout. While I know it is highly unlikely that this triggered some mechanism in my head, it makes more sense then not.

You see, I had not remembered a dream or having a dream in a very long time. Six months to be exact. Six months since the time my doctor thought that a good experiment on my brain would be to give it Ritalin. They have not occured since that moment.

Yet I would trade back all the dreams I have had the past three days if I could do so. These dreams have been nothing special, nothing I could turn into great (or even mediocre) stories, movies, cures for cancer, you name it. But this price I paid for the recent dreaming is never worth the dream I suffocated.

I’m not really sure what this dream was. I’m not even sure if it was ever mine or ever tangible existed. It did on some level but I do not choose to analyze which at this moment. Yet I kept myself so incredibly dilluted with seriousness and plans of grandeur, which would take months or years to acheive not the days or hours which I so desired, that left me unable to sleep on this dream.

I will never know for sure. Yet apparently now I have an eternity to sleep on this dream. I’m not even sure that I can really do anything about it. I know I cannot, not directly. It may have never even been my dream. I may never know.

It is now simply one of the dreams I wish upon everyone.Peace, love, and happiness. I cannot or should not expect to be able to deliver this gift to another, not at this given moment. Not when they do not exist within. I am an expert at moments of all of these attributes, yet a master at none.

Do any of us ever truly master these things? I always feel there is more work to do. No matter how good, no matter how bad things might be. People have repeatedly used me for all of these attributes. I need to learn to keep more of these to myself.

I am 31 years old right now. It is my turn to try a lot harder and not just grace the masquerade ball wearing the mask of trying hard.

There is a point of hope that began in my life on May 22nd. Perhaps I am speaking too soon. I don’t really care. I need to have this hope. I can whine and complain all I want but I would rather be an inspiration. I do not know how to be this or much of anything but I NEED to try. I cannot afford to put that torch down ever again.

I want to carry the world on my back, but I must carry my own reignited dreams, first and foremost.

By SpaceDog 

Puddles, Insomnia, Ghosts

(All my blogs from now will have a song attached that tries to go with the blog ranging from quite well to quite well but only after 10 mixed drinks. link is below my ramblings.)

I had great big plans for today. A wonderful schedule written on the whiteboard. A premade breakfast in its properly place. And then you showed up. It happened when I least expected it. It always does.

Your face showed up on my ceiling. In between the tears that tasted so salty on my lips, I caught your glimpse. I briefly smelled your scent, heard you tapping at my window. Then it was all gone, just as soon as it began.

My puddle diver. I cannot believe it has been over five years since you went away. It seems like it were just yesterday. That I could see your smiling face. Hear your carefree.

Sure, I have to dig a little deeper ago then five years, because five years ago you had lost your shine. Well not the shine, I could never see you not bathed in some kind of wonderful light. Time had taken away your smile. Time had dulled a certain part of what made you so wonderful to me. It was subtle at times but probably was much deeper. All I could see at times was my ignorance in a reflection.

I know you are still here even as I write these lines. I’m for some reason listening to Ani DiFranco. She was always more your lesbian side. Mine was this ridiculous interest in sports, but not like playing them because I didn’t want to mess up my great skin.

We were once young and well in comparison to you I guess I am the younger one now. Any age is a much more desired one then the agelessness being a corpse provides. Ageless beauty is some myth an undertaker decided to vomit onto the general population one too many moons ago.

I still remember painting with you. I had camped out at your house for an entire week, not some stormy weekend that eventually became our trademark (and demise.) You painted me a shirt. It was the silliest thing ever yet I cherished it so much. I even wore it in public a few times. I was so proud to wear your colors.

Then I threw all the colors out the window. We all did. It was my own personal prequel to 13 Reasons Why. I was such a horrible person that I’m sure I would have made the list more then once. So afraid to help because I was still so afraid of how I felt about you. I was always completely petrified. Even though you are gone, I’m still lost because of you.

Yet here I am now. I’ve been waiting 5 years to write this. As if I am somehow immortal. Some alien form that is going to outlast the cockroaches. Sadly, this shan’t be the case. I simply want redemption. While I cannot have this with you, it is something I deeply need for myself.

I cannot sit my the window any longer watching life pass me by. Instead, I will run. Flat on my face. I will fall. A lot.  It is no longer my time to just stare out at the rain.  Because I am the storm. And you forever are my Puddle Diver.