- - - L I G H T S . . will guide you { < home . && *ignite your b-o-n-e-s ; && I WILL ( try to . ) `` fix you ``

And so another year passes us by, the new one right around the corner.

So many things have happened, and whether you remember them or not, they all happened for a reason. They've led you down paths that you may or may have expected to follow, but they've brought something better than you were aware of being possible. It's been a rough year, and with all your hardships and struggles, you've grown stronger. To fight them, to conquer them, to wear them as a badge, to even carry them on your shoulders and climb up another. Fatigue did not know your face and defeat could not call you by your name.

No matter what you think, you believed in something. Fulfillment of that belief, conviction of the objective, was to resolve yourself to it, and that is what you did. It's always about the thought that counts, but it's even more about the effort put into it that it all is chalked up to.

We've our range of emotion, our outlets and inlets. We've experienced losses and gains, some less enjoyable than others while some were simply outright outrageous. But, life is life - and life is good. A positive outlook can change anything to everything, and with a token as visible as a smile and a symbol as important as the heart, life can be better and better every day.

"One man's trash is another man's treasure." Well, to those who do not appreciate what they have, it is unfortunate that, elsewhere, a person holds that object and that person in the highest regard. It's important to not dwell on the past so much that it hinders the present, but, in hindsight, things were a lot better. Now that we've realized that, anyhow. Or, if not, then they were simply not good enough.

"When you try your best, but you don't succeed."

A truth. We search for a truth. We look in all of the possible areas, and find that it was dangling before our faces. How is this so? Truth is, it was never in front of us to begin with. It may have been before us, but never directly in front of us. Eventually, in all the twists and turns, we managed to configure ourselves so that we were looking right at it. Near the point of exhaustion, we stumble backwards, hoping to fall into defeat, only to find that - gravity being the only thing holding you down - it's always been bigger than just you. It's been larger from you, from the start.

And, with your head looking up, you see it.

T h e  S k y .

The day was good. The day treated me. The day was better than any of the days before. I've been following my "12 Days After Christmas" regiment. We've stumbled along to reflection / dedication. I'm near the point of maturing, if I had not reached it already. Physically, mentally, and socially in such a manner that it's stapled who I've become together, welt it tight, and bolted it secure: I am made to be me, not to be broken. 

Repeat that to yourself.

Do it again. And again.

Believe it yet?

I woke up in a daze. I had a dream, but I'm not entirely sure, still, if it was only a dream. My mother called from downstairs. She told me that, when I wake up, I should make breakfast for my younger brother and I. Incidentally, I grunted and fell back asleep. Alright, so it wasn't as happenstance as I make it sound, but it happened, and... Yeah. Anywho, I went right back to sleep. But, then, when I woke again, she was telling me to go get my brother. And I struggled to wake. I felt as though I had replied to her and everything, declaring that I'd be down in a bit, but I don't think I stirred in the slightest. It could have been a little while later, but I woke up three hours after she had originally told me to make breakfast [ no concerns, my younger brother had ordered pizza and it would arrive about ten minutes after I woke ] and found that the house was silent. I was in my room, disoriented, and unsure. The television downstairs was not producing any sound that carried up to my room, so I presumed it was off. I got concerned at first, but simply dismissed it as I straightened up  in my bed, with my computer. My brother would gravitate upstairs soon enough.

And, for certain, he did. Forked over the money to me as I was rolling about on my Gaia Grind [ writing and whatnot ]. I had an agenda set out for me, courtesy of my mother. And, as of recent, I've been inclined to oblige as she would request. [ Key word: "request", but that's beside the point... not really... But.. yeah. ]

What did I do that makes my day, today, so important you ask?

Well, as soon as I put in my headphones, I found that I had this on repeat.

" F i x . Y o u . "

A good friend of mine, Dan Berberi showed me that video. After moving to the other side of the country two years after I had known him, he settled with his quasi-nomadic family on the West Coast. As chance has it, he would go to school and make friends with those particular individuals in the video. All of them. The video is great, and I'd recommend it as a great watch to anyone. Especially because of the music.

The song is "Fix You" by Coldplay, and I didn't listen to anything else for the next two days. And, as I have it on repeat now, I find it's even better than when I had watched it the first time. The singer, as noted in the video's description, is CJ Saquing. Her voice is amazing, right? Well, I've the honor of getting to know her, more or less. And, truth be told, it's something I adore very much. Her voice is captivating. I've showed it to a myriad of individuals, and they've all said the same thing.

"Wow. Amazing!"

{ ~ Or something along those lines.

So, yeah. That's that. If you like her and her voice, you can check out her awesome youtube channel [ CEEJOFFICIAL ], and - don't worry - I won't think any less of you for going to hers and not mine [ H a l c y o n . ] [ A little advertising never hurt anyone. Haha. ]

And, while we're at it, I'd like to acknowledge that, because of her Tumblr, I've decided to make my own [ see, I'm pulling up all the links ]. And, truth be told, it's an amazing thing. I can inject my compassion and what have you into the world with a hint of anonymity. The delightful things that roll about [ or should I say "tumbl"? : D Anyone, anyone? ] that site just make me smile. And, hopefully, what you see all over the place will make you too.

So, the rest of my day was rather peaceful. I observed most of the ornaments on our Christmas Tree, which I dismantled with my younger brother. It then hit me that it would be the last Christmas I'd likely consider being part of my childhood, attributing to the collection of me maturing. And, after that, I walked my dog, Franklin [ I named him after the turtle from the self-titled show, way back when. Haha. ] with my younger brother, and it also hit me then when I was walking back home on my street. I looked at the houses, down the uneven sidewalks, and at the street. Everything seemed smaller. And, what's even stranger, was that I smiled at this. I was happy I was able to have such good memories, such a great childhood, in such a fantastic place.

Never before had I admitted this, but I resolved it would pop up today. And that's where my reflection went.

The rest of the day was me singing along to the cover as I washed the dishes and ate pizza and wrote chapters for unfinished and static novels [ or attempted to, but would get distracted - noteworthily by a fellow blogger, check out her's - filled with fun of all sorts: Goldfish Lovin' ]. And, now we're here. =] At "Blogtime."

Now, I don't think I have anything else to say. But, I'd like to make mention to my prior entry about the New Year. Focus on what's important. Not getting something materialistic, not attaining a status or reigning in new pals, but finding a truth that will make you a better person. With that "enhancement", you'll be able to make everything else fall in place. 

Trust me - you'd much rather let it all come to you than spend your precious time chasing after it.

If you've read this whole thing, then kudos and blessings. If not, then the same thing. Not everyone can read in one sitting and digest the same thing. And it takes a skilled bunch to be able to comprehend along the way. Fortunately, I'm well aware that you all have it in you. I believe that you all have it in you.

I believe that you have it in you to do whatever you think you can't. It's a matter of dedication [ see? the other just slipped right in there! ] and perseverance and pursuit and determination. Never quit. If you can't do it, take a step back and try again or from another angle. If it wasn't an obstacle in your path, why else would it be there?

Hope you all have safe and enjoyable celebrations.

<3 ~ Monty.

=]

- with all things S A I D . . . { you turn to R E D !

Hmm. I don't think I have much to say today. The season is doing it all for me, I suppose. Hahah. Nevertheless, a Tuesday swings on by, and I'm in a position where I am able to type, and so a delivery shall be secured.

I read a peculiar thing the other day [ yesterday, if I'm not mistaken ], but I thought I should share with you what I'm listening to first. The Ting Tings is always an enjoyable music choice, and their music is bubbly and lively - it makes me bounce inside. Of course, me visibly bouncing in a seat to The Ting Tings is even stranger than I could envision it, but that's besides the point.

So, I was writing as per usual, and I read that someone asked a question of the holidays. It went something like this:

"Christmas Day is so special, but what are the days after Christmas called?"

I found it very interesting, to say the least. Because, of course, this was way after I had resolved to dedicate the twelve days of Christmas and afterward to my little list. What day are we on, do you recall?

That's right! Today was day three! From either end, "Honesty" and "Compassion" were the focuses. If you decided to do both, or just so happened to stumble into that lovely gray area, it's more than encouraged! But, in actuality, when I read this, I wasn't entirely thinking about my Twelve Days of Christmas Come-and-Go, but what a title for the week leading into the new year would be called.

I settled on something like this:

Reminiscing and Renovation.

 Sounds pretty cool, right? Well, the concept is like what we normally do around New Year's - we think about the year, how it's passed us by, how we [ as usual ] have caved with our resolution for the year. However, instead of setting a new resolution, it's more of getting rid of the concept altogether, putting New Year's wishes out of business. Haha.

Instead of dedicating your focus to figuring out what you're going to do differently this year, the intent is to focus on all the things you've done this year and use them to your advantage in improving yourself. You don't need to focus on one thing, you don't need to dedicate any time to actually sitting down and setting goals for yourself.

This span of six or so days is spent for inner contemplation. Pick a day out of the six and meditate, even. If you don't know how, you can learn! It's simple, I'll say, but maintaining focus is a great dilemma we all suffer against. Regardless, if we actually care to benefit from most things, we've got to at least give it a go and make the best of it, right?

I've been hearing stories of fantastic Christmases, how the holidays have been good to people, and I'm really happy to hear all of this. It's all the warmth and happiness that litters the month of December and gets us through the winters. And, for those who've known no in-climate winters [ or winters at all, in that case ], it's still important to think of the month in reverence. When people put their concerns and obligations aside for all the others in their lives in an untimely fashion, it makes me think that people know all they need to know.

Peace, harmony, compassion.

Understanding these things and how to embody them is key to getting where we need to go. Sure, you can underhand your way through things, but it's only a path of recoil and retaliation: something's going to come back to unearth the ground beneath you.

So, yeah. I thought that was cool. Along with all the people venturing all over for their holiday break, spending time with their families and relaxing. My wishes for happiness go out to you all, and from all of my friends who love to intrude on these entries [ this time it's Miss Juliette, everyone say hello to Juliette and wish her to feel better soon! ], hope your year was fantastic.

Be sure to end it with a bang! But, of course, be careful!

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

t a k e . o f f - to a place i`ve never seen -- ; ~ away from who I USED TO [ b e ]

So many things to say. Always the case, yet, I still never truly can figure out what to say first. So, here we go.

It's Christmas time! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of the other individuals celebrating other festivities. You ask someone about Christmas, and they'll tell you what they know about it. Ask another person, and they'll tell you something different, yet it's still the same. They've got carols to back their declarations up: of the sentiments, of the deliverance of a baby boy, of the glories they are grateful for - they are all pieces of the same puzzle. A melting pot that is missing so many more ingredients.

As of recent, I've been searching for a new taste in music, as should have been noted and mentioned in the previous entry. Granted, the choices I've already been listening to have a few secret pieces that they hide from me every now and then. One in particular, Oh Land's Helicopter is a prime example of this. It's simple, it's promising, much like the holiday season.

We'd gather around for one day and smile and share stories, laugh on one accord and share a meal at a table with people we most likely wouldn't see around in the same house if we lived together, all for the sake of the holiday season. There are the many controversies, as there are with just about anything, and yet it does not hinder the Christmas spirit.

The only concern I have with this is, while Christmas is such an indomitable ritual, why hasn't it permeated throughout the very essence of our lives? Every day, why don't we see rosy cheeks smiling, regardless of the season and its weather, why don't we see children holding their parents hands and them rushing to and fro, hurrying in smiling anticipation as they make their way to rendezvous with familiar faces?

Why can't the genuine sincerity of our hearts last for more than a day to a week and some change?

What are the holidays about to you?

A time to see your family - immediate and extended - who you'll admit you don't always get along with, an excuse to escape from the usual grind of your busy year, or a simple excuse to indulge in the guilty pleasures of purchasing and hording egocentric-driven compliments and courtesies for retrieving a material of potentially feigned affection? Are the holidays merely all about the presents you find under the tree, upon a table, or in your hands as you walk out the door?

I've gone through the liberty of making a little, interesting treat, based off the iconic "Twelve Days of Christmas" - of course, mine has to consist of a twist:

1. Honor.
2. Gratefulness.
3. Honesty.
4. Generosity.
5. Permission.
6. Reflection.
7. Dedication.
8. Patience.
9. Wisdom.
10. Compassion.
11. Happiness.
12. Celebration.

There - see? The Twelve Days of Christmas! Except, y'know, without porridge and apple trees or golden eggs laying hens, or however those silly songs go.

I want you to go through, count back on your calendar, spend about a good twelve minutes - math shows that's a minute per selection - to figure out how you exemplified the trait to the respective day. Christmas day being day twelve, and the preceding as day eleven. So, yeah, with that figured out, have at that. You can do it right now if you want, I won't be going anywhere. Haha.

Right, so, whether you did it or not, I want you to write down these days and the words for the days. If it's not too much trouble, I'd request that you make it so that you have space to write next to the words, as you'll be creating a list of your own words for the next twelve days. And, of course, if you could not think of anything that embodied the traits as presented [ just because you think it doesn't mean it's necessarily true, because you could not have been paying attention to it at all ] then simply act them out for the next twelve days. Not too complicated, right?

Hey, if you want, go right ahead and use the same list. Just make sure you write it down somewhere and tote it around with you. Duct tape, your finger, your dog's collar - wherever! If people know what you're exemplifying, they'll acknowledge it, and that's all we need. For people to know that it still exists and for people to not give up hope on the rest of mankind.

I may be speaking to a small audience here, but I believe that you all - dedicated reader or uninterested and non-reader - are more than capable. You've made it through each day and have smiled at least once, haven't you? Anything's possible, I say.

Oh, and if you didn't notice, I brought up hope again. I'll leave that one to you.

Happy holidays again! Hope you and all of your family, friends, loved ones, acquaintances, enemies, strangers, and influences are blessed and have a great season. Try to ensure that everyone around you has a great time, along with yourself, of course.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

I`m still in the dark __ lighting candles . . .

Oh, the winter break has finally come. And with it, the end of the year. It's surprising - it always is, really. How the year flies by so fast, yet we bade every single day, every waking moment we spend doing one thing or another. Or maybe even nothing at all. All I know is that there's been a lot of time wasted, and we need to take care of that.

Well, I'm starting fresh in more ways than one: most notably, music choices. As if my taste in music was not eccentric and unorthodox enough. Of course, I'll still favor my top choices, but venturing out of my comfort zones of "repeat-shuffle" may prove good for me. And maybe even provide a bit more variety for this particular audience. When I listen to music, I'm sure I've gone over this before, I listen to the lyrics as well as the tone and melodies. They occasionally fit my personality and mood whenever it seems befitting. Of course, this is true for so many others, so I'm not far off when I say that people may or may not like the songs I designate for each entry.

My apologies and pardons to those disappointed in particular choices.

Regardless, I will provide what I listen to for the same reasons as before.

Courtesy of a marvelous, Miss Denae Wilkins who has been mentioned in an earlier entry, The Weepies' "Lighting Candles" is the first in this new "trial".

Hope. That's what this Holiday Season's all about. Community, sure. Compassion, of course. But hope is the staple that keeps it all in one piece, functional and very much so. Learning what hope is can be more difficult to explain than we could initially presume, but it's worth it. Asking of hope is just as strange as it is to conceive the notion of explaining one's experience with hope. Simple, fickle things we'll explain to comprehend one another, but we all understand tacitly that hope is just bigger than the things you can fit in your pocket or showcase to your friends.

Hope is what keeps us waking up each day, looking forward to something that hasn't happened yet, but we hope to experience. We may not expect things to fall into place, but we hope something goes the way we desire. All in all, this season of hope has us all by the ankles. Unfortunately, the things we've tied to Hope has turned it on its head, and now we're dangling from our ankles.

Don't give up [ H O P E ]. Find it in its true form and embrace it. Follow it to your aspirations, to your beliefs, to its conviction. It's a concrete pillar supported by clouds underneath it - it could be feasible if you gave it reason to.

Just to leave this open and as a seg-way into the Holiday Season, I hope you all have a happy holiday season. Whatever you celebrate and with whoever you find yourselves with, may it be blessed and greater than you could ever imagine.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend . . .

Are you familiar with the group, "You Are Loved"?

I'm sure I've mentioned it before: it's a suicide-awareness group that a friend of my good friend [ who has now become a good friend of mine as well ] has been dedicated in advocating. Her creation of this group has most certainly done great things. Not only has she gone around speaking to a myriad of schools on the matter, but her internet expansion has created an influence on many.

If you haven't checked it out yet [ by being observant and clicking the image at the top of this blog - the one with the very intriguing book ] you should get on that. Just take a moment to click and read. Set aside whatever it is you're doing and actually listen to what she has to say. It's important stuff; the words of millions neatly and eloquently produced in a fantastic read. It may not be exactly your cup of tea to go out and be active, but the little things that you do count just as much as the massive deeds.

I was dancing through it because a friend of mine mentioned it today. She saw one of the wristbands [ courtesy of youareloved.co ] that I was wearing. She said that her friend had spoken to her about the website itself. With that embedded in my mind, and the recent entries of cherishing life and the fantastic things of the like, I found it only superbly befitting that the song "Jumper" as performed by Bedlight for Blue Eyes [ whether they are the original artist or not, I like their particular recording ] was one of the few I had scoured the list for to hold such a powerful message.

Simply listening to the song, you hear the same line over and over again:

" . . . i wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend . . . "

It may not come to some people at first, but if you think about it for a moment longer, the lyrics are cajoling an individual from leaping off some kind of high edge as a resolve to save them from ending their lives. It's important that we all know who our friends are, what's going on with them, and where we stand in assistance. If we know someone who is going through trouble, our natural instinct - as human beings - is to forward compassion. It may not be genuine, it may be as sincere as the kindness of our hearts - regardless, it is compassion: sharing the pain with them. Coming to understand what they're experiencing and how it's become a burden for them is key in getting them to turn and listen to you before they get any more tempted to inch closer to that ledge.

It is our obligation to stop them. It is our purpose to help them step down from the ledge and carry their burden with them.

"Where we stand in assistance" basically means what we can do to help them. If it's not literal and physical assistance, then we most certainly can be present as a confidante. It doesn't take any effort to simply sit down and listen to someone else rattle. It surely does not. It doesn't take any effort to be reasonable in a conversation either, so consoling an individual should not prove to be a task for a single individual on this planet. Concern for others is an ideal aspect in a world of peace that not everyone is willing to attain.

It's nice to talk to someone you haven't before. If you've been following along or have been practicing on your own moral objectives, you would have, at the very least, experienced this once. Encountering an unfamiliar face and simply asking the light, small-talk of leisure conversations: "How are you today?" or "How's it going?" leading into a compliment like "Oh, looking great today," or "Very nice shoes." It's something we don't think to do on a daily basis, but it's something we'd greatly appreciate - why not offer it to someone else selflessly as well?

Just as I was typing that, I recalled something very entertaining and appropriate, given the month and season. Twelve or so days until Christmas, it seems, and it's a spectacular occurrence to speak with Santa, whenever you can. Despite your beliefs on the old man, I'd like to honestly make the announcement that he is one of the greatest individuals in "history" and will most likely remain so. So, no need to get offended when people revere him and idolize him during the Christmas Season - we're all aware of what it exactly is about.

Community. And, of course, Saint Nicholas is merely a ploy to reel in that sense of community without any bickering over personal beliefs and ideals more so than usual.

Regardless, my story is more important.

I was on the way to rehearsal, courtesy of the fantastic driving services of one of my good buddies. I was already running a little late, but it was alright [ I got to rehearsal on time, so I suppose I wasn't exactly "late", and we got to meet Santa, but I digress ]. We suddenly decided to pay Santa Dearest, whom we had driven by, a visit; out of the parked car we hopped, and over we trotted. Into his shack, past the display of elves working in their box of a workshop and past the camel and the wisemen - even the Nativity was glowing with a radiance [ and electricity ].

In we went, and to his cramped space we were welcomed with warmth and the typical Christmas carols on an iPod [ Santa's got to treat himself sometimes too ]. So, I went in and he asked me, "What's up, bud?" And I said what I wanted to: not what I wanted, nor how I had been a great boy this year, but how I adored him for his services. How he sat there, negotiated with the little children into things that he could fit into his sack of toys [ or maybe that their parents could actually afford ] and how, on behalf of all of the people who were unable to see him and his wonderful renovation [ he said he did what he could, but he's been trying to spruce up the place by moving the pictures of the reindeer and something about the Missus that I missed, awestruck by one of the self-portraits he had laminated ], that I would be the voice of their appreciation.

And, of course, that I had been a good boy this year.

Haha. I'm kidding. [ Even though I totally have, but that's not the point... Even though it is. ]

He thanked my friend and I, inquiring where we went to school, was impressed and once again thanked us. After an exchange of gleaming smiles and two fist-pounds [ one for each of us ] we were off, wishing Santa a Merry Christmas and lots of egg nog and cookies.

Of course, I can only wish the same for you. But, this season, try to focus not on the materialistic things that you expect to rip open paper about it and find within, but on the words leaving your mouth - on the way you behave - to effectively convey your sentiments of others around you and how much they matter to you.

After all, this is the season.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

w e `` w e r e `` b o x i n g - - - the ** STARS ...

Thinking. Thinking is good. Thinking is important.

Idle, absentminded thinking is nothing compared to contemplation that will bring you to a life-changing conclusion. Sometimes you need silence to sort out your thoughts. Sometimes you need some music to make the brain juices flow. Well, I never was too interested in Jack's Mannequin before, but after one of my friends suggested so, I decided to dive into their music. And, the irony of the matter is that the song is a very interesting listen.

"Dark Blue" is the song, and it's pretty interesting.

I haven't been able to hop onto this and flesh out my thoughts since the show, I think. A couple of weeks since my last, "legitimate" entry, if I'm not mistake? In part, that can be attributed to my fairly busy schedule. As of recent, I've plunged into the vast field of my particular interest - if you haven't already known from prior entries or did not know this altogether, I am aspiring to be a performer of sorts. With that said, the auditions and extra lengths to make connections and piece together schedules has been more than productive for me - it's been time-consuming.

I don't really know where I'm going with it. I want to make a career out of it, and I've been hearing from just about every direction I turn to, how busy and intense my focuses will be. I'll be completely consumed by my work, and it's a great thing to hear. It actually is - I'd much rather be running around, exhausted from doing something I love than live miserably doing something I don't enjoy. If I'm not happy, then I cannot exactly instill genuine happiness into those around me; without that performed correctly, I would fail to fulfill one of my purposes in life.

=]

So, earlier today, I was thinking of the terms people use derogatorily. I've been thinking about it a lot as of late, and it pops up just about everywhere. While miscommunication does seem to play a large role in it all, it's important for us to make an effort in accompanying all those around us. We may not think about it as the words fly from our mouths, but sometimes we say something that may inflict other people negatively.

When we say these things, I wonder, do they apply to the particular type of people we don't like? The particular group of people we're afraid to become or associated with? Irrational disdain and hatred stems from ignorance - anyone can hate anyone, but not everyone can rationally justify their "argument", if you will. Only to rely on their impressions of a person and the general, habitual practice of applying them in a degree of discrimination, while we won't honestly admit it, it is purely unjust. Words sting much more than we realize, and it's important that, not only do we train our tongues to use the right words, but that we ensure that we are aiming to fortify our confidence.

Confidence has been a reoccurring topic as of late, hasn't it?

Well, with confidence, you will be fine. You will be able to say, "people can say whatever they want about me, because I know it's not true and I won't let it effect me." With that kind of pride, that kind of certainty, you can surf forth upon the stormy waves that we call life.

Speaking of pushing and persevering, I want you to watch something really quickly: it's about seven minutes long, but it most certainly is worth the seven minutes.

Jacob Schemmel - "My Story"

I suppose some things that go fairly viral are ridiculous and obscene, but if you clicked that and watched it in its entirety, then I want you to go back and watch it again. Don't look at his note cards and feel the music because I told you too, but read the words on the screen, understand them. This is somebody's life, someone who most of us may not even know. The compassion it stirs within us is only a fraction of what we should act upon.

The things we hear sprouting from the mouths of others, or even our own, are more oft than not the most obnoxious things we could consider us ever saying. A sincere and genial person would not think to say these things. We, of course, are not perfect. However, nor is a person who is of a sincere and genial persona. People with hearts of good-nature would find it absolutely sweet what Jacob has done.

I believe it is absolutely admirable. I respect and revere this individual, and while I may not know him or of his specific circumstances before or after I watched this video, I can honestly proclaim that while I watched it I felt close to him. It's truly unfortunate how things so traumatic occur to the greatest of people. They turn us on a wild, twisting ride that we would have not been able to recover from on our own, and then our experiences provide us with an opening to slide into. The epiphany that we trip over, the people we stumble into, and then those stranded out at sea we rescue - they are all a component of our transformation.

Big or small, your trials are making you a better, stronger person. Let us take after Jacob's and his friends' lead and just... "Everybody Love Everybody."

I need one of those shirts. Haha.

Thank you for your inspiration, Jacob. Thank you on behalf of all the people who have watched your video, thank you for all of those who said it and all those who didn't get the chance to. Thank you for taking it all in stride, for being strong enough to do things so many people could not do, and for being able to share it with the rest of the world. You're right: the smile has much more power than people give it credit for, and anyone who watched your video could have easily admitted to having experienced it.

I'm turning things around. I've found most of my footing, where I'm going and how to approach the directions. I've found my support and my purpose, surely. I've figured how to angle myself so that I can dive headfirst into the intimidating and indefinite waters below. But, with the massive impact I've been resolved to make, I think my splash will be much louder than I anticipate it.

Then I'll swim out and rescue all the people drifting away and swim them back to shore.

And then I'll do it all over again.

<3 ~ Monty
=]

( the _ b a l l o o n s ) . . dance . ``skyward . . . ~ & we :: WATCH :: with - a - d - o - r - i - n - g - .s.m.i.l.e.s.

Christina Perri - Penguin

          The bright ray of light peaked into the darkness. The silence caressed my ears. The soft sheets cocooned me in my emanating heat. The creaking of my joints and stiffness of my eyelids attributed to the notion that, with the sun up, I did not want to follow after it. With a stretch of ecstasy here, and a pop of relief in joints there, the covers shifted. The freshness of the air, it curled up into my nose. I smiled dreamily.

The window was open, and through it wafted the warmth of the cordial weather. Never brash, never abrasive - always content. The rustling of leaves rang out in the comforting silence of the world outside. My four walls, they were all I knew. They kept me leveled when I thought I was going to leap from each and every surface within their grasp, they protected me when I was frightened of all the irrational thoughts swarming my head - they kept me comfortable with who I was meant to be.

I did not pay attention to the mess my hair was in. I vaguely remembered that it was atop my head by the time I had slipped out of the massive bed, body aching with the pleasures of a fantasy and splendid rest. My bare feet were shaped just as I recalled them to be when I closed my eyes, them being the last things I saw at the foot of my bed last night. They carried me without complaint over to the window. Against the bland white of the walls, untainted - the quintessence of purity - a window frame was positioned.

It was my only opening to the rest of the world. It was so much more colorful than my four walls, and as I looked back to compare, the differing levels of comfort I found in my four walls and this open window were immense. I knew everything that was in this room. While I could not see it, I knew what it was and where it was located.

Turning back to the burnt, chestnut-hued pane, I traced it with my fingers. Its smell was intoxicating, the smell just as hypnotizing as its touch. It was my liberty, my gateway. I reached out to touch one of the ferns that dangled mere inches from my windowpane. I could imagine how it felt, how the plant's green would be like velvet and waxy in a rather unorthodox mix. I could imagine how it would bend under my pressure, how the leaf would contort itself in limp cooperation. And, every morning I woke to this, I vowed that I would find a way through this window for good.

Just as I thought that, I took a quick step back, retracting my fingers from the smooth surface to watch the top of the window slam down before me.

It was not a surprise: I had done this before. I did not conclude the reason for its sudden restriction. With the arms of the window barring it with fortification, I could not find a way out. It would not budge - I had tried before and it nearly snipped off my fingers as it hopped and sharply shut with a "thwack!" I couldn't break it because I was afraid its shards would turn on me, that they would harm my bare feet if I stepped upon them, that I would be susceptible to the things it was preventing me from whenever it closed itself.

I was afraid that I would not be able to find my way through the window - find my way to the rest of the world, find my way to freedom.

I paced the undetermined area of my room, subconsciously aware of its ever-changing shape and dimensions. The white was difficult to distinguish, but I did well enough to not knock into my bed, not knock into a wall or two upon my fourth remembering that I had passed a particular point after losing count. My eyes quickly darted to the windowsill.

Upon it, a bug rested. This bug was black, and its features appeared as outlined as though I held some sort of augmenting visionary assistant to inspect it. I held my breath. The bug had been in here before, and it had flown around once before flying back out. This time, it awaited my arrival once over, but only to turn in my direction and watch. To watch intently.

I stalked closer, breathing steadily through my nose and struggling to not fail my perfected, unblinking gaze. The bug twitched, feeling a bit uncomfortable with my advances, but remained upon its perch, nonetheless. This black against the white, it went against everything I knew. I knew my own skin was not the same shade as the walls in my room - a key component in verifying my sanity each time I was on the brink of my mind - and that this bug once before had done the same.

But, this time, with its eyes watching me and mine upon it, I had a feeling things were different.

I stumbled forth as I knocked my foot against a stool. Quickly breaking my focus, I kicked the stool - which I could not see - from my path and lunged forth for the insect. It gave a teasing sizzle of its wings and shot back through the open window before my hands knocked against its then-closed state. Climbing from the ground with as much grace as I did sense of this peculiar window, I pulled myself to my knees, uncomfortable against the sturdy surface beneath me, and stared out at the bug.

It, fluttering its microscopic wings, hovered in the same spot for a second longer than it did before. When it visited me, I would always fail to pursue it, to interrogate it. To ask it how it felt to fly, to ask it what it looked out there.

To understand why I was within my beloved and overbearing four walls, restricted by this lone system of glass and wood.

With a defeated sigh, I resumed my pacing.

I kept count this time, but heard a distant noise each time I attempted to turn and continue. After a few times, I tripped over my rally and lost track, quickly glancing at the sill. The bug had returned.

"You!" I called after it. It was the first time I had addressed it with my voice, something I was startled myself to hear. I had barely recalled my ability to communicate. Before then, I had no reason to. I was simply in my four walls, by my lonesome.

The bug slowly turned on its odd-even number of legs. I realized that it was taunting me. While I didn't let this bother me, it did irk me that an insect had better wit than I at that moment. At the very least, it could escape these four walls. I, on the other hand, could not.

Or, at least, not with this window prohibiting me.

This time, it stopped to turn to the world past the window. The blues in the distance, the sands glittering with the glorious sunshine of the sun dancing across the water in a waving trail of light - they were all more magnificent than I could have ever fathomed. Before I had realized it, however, I had neared the window, this time without any obstacles. I stopped where I was, the black bug twitching twice to turn halfway, glancing at me, before turning back to the outside.

"What is it?" I asked it, wondering how my voice had changed. Had it been like this when I first used it? In fact, when was the last time I had used it? I didn't even recall being anywhere other than these four walls. With my wonder forever unsatisfied, I decided to settle my qualms for the time being. It was this bug who had greater power than I. I watched as a color, similar to that which danced after the sun in the sky, slowly cascaded through the open gaps through the foliage which surrounded my window.

I then noticed the absurdly thin string wrapped about the insect's body and followed its line to the bottom of the floating form.

It looked rather elastic, gleaming with the light of the sun outside and the natural lighting of my four walls. The bug's wings buzzed for a moment, the crackle of their rapid flapping thundering through my silent room. I couldn't hear my own breath, but I could hear this insect's own.

"A balloon?" As the figure came into full form, I took notice that it could fit through the window. The window did not shake, did not tremble as I approached it, and the bug and the yellow balloon did not drift away. I could not see the wire that connected them both, bug and balloon, but I believed that I would grasp it if I simply reached for it. I watched as my slender fingers wrapped about the thin string, and delicately eased it in through the open frame.

My lips curled up into a delighted smile, my teeth shining as radiantly as my walls, alarmingly white. The bug wiggled loose from its makeshift harness, and I watched as it danced in the air, bobbing in its ascent. Its path coiled about my upright forearm and around the larger balloon. I watched as it flew straight upwards, rising as high into the whiteness as my eyes would be able to distinguish the miniscule speck, and then further.

I no longer could hear the insect's wings. I watched the open window. The leaves no longer whispered in their dancing, and the waves no longer lapped against the bank of the sands. I could no longer see the sun from where I stood, but I knew it was out there, shining brightly on everything I could see.

I then understood what I needed to do.

With the fragile and insubstantial thread pinned between my fingers, I watched the balloon. It swayed in its idle presence, in my idle wait. I admired its lively color, how it was filled with air to keep it buoyant, and how it was able to be dangled about, toted around by a string without so much as a care in the world.

As ridiculous as it sounds, it was a balloon - of course it would be carefree.

I smiled. My fingers' grip unraveled from the string, and I watched as it followed the same path as the insect that left me to my own. It was something I would not be able to explain, but the feeling that swelled me in that moment was paramount to the one that would follow right after.

A thunderous roar shook my four walls. The sound of the sky ripping open and all that I knew around me would drown out my ears. But... I simply stood there, still smiling at that balloon until it was out of sight - and then I continued smiling.

When I blinked, I could no longer see it there. When I blinked again, I then realized that the white I was looking at had gone. It was drifting away in the form of a puffy, white cloud against the backdrop of a soft, blue sky. I looked around me, and I found that my four walls were nowhere to be found. Trees and plants of all shapes and sizes watched me. The sunlight bounced off smooth bark and waxy leaves, sending splatters of sunlight onto the patchy grasses beneath my bare feet.

I inhaled. Where the window was before, it no longer was. Before me was only the path to the sands which stretched beyond where I could reach with my arms and further than my feet would take me and to the endless expanse of blue, where no one could fathom swimming out to.

I was free.

<3 ~ Monty

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