we . never . change ; do we ?

Ah!

It's another new year! It's another new moment in another new day of our lives.

Coldplay - "We Never Change"

People are partying, people are sleeping, people are hugging, kissing, walking through doors, and even just lounging on their hinds. People are making a myriad of resolutions, some repeating, some fresh and new; people are making promises and reinventing themselves to what they think is right, what they think they need.

res·o·lu·tion      [rez-uh-loo-shuh n]

noun

1. a formal expression of opinion or intention made, usually after voting, by a formal organization, a legislature, a club, or other group. Compare concurrent resolution, joint resolution.

2. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.

3. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.

4. the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose.

5. the act or process of resolving or separating into constituent or elementary parts.

Makes sense that if it's based on one's will, determination, and focus, that it needs to be made annually.

Mine is to be me. All the qualities that I believe I embody, that I need to exercise, that I need to portray and become in order to be the person I want to be.

Simple things like honesty, passion, understanding, courage, strength, humility, and so forth. It sounds like both a facile and arduous resolution, but there'll be a happy medium that I manage to  walk along, I'm sure.

There's a promise to just about every person I've made that involves me waking up every morning. I shall make the most of each and every morning, and thank at least two people as frequently in the morning as I'm capable for giving me the reasons that I wake up each day. I'll try my best to give each day my all, for I would expect no less from anyone else in my position.

I want a better focus, a better intent to my efforts. A better outcome of my projects and better relationships of my communications. I'll work to be the better me with the help of strangers, friends and family.

I'll show the world my worth.

I'll show it to myself.

Happy New Year to you all. Hope you have a safe and blessed year and many more to come.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

The holly, jolly spirit.

Christmas is never over ~

Merry sentiments and happy tidings~! 

Happy holidays!

=]

`` i don`t want to fall [ fall ] fall { F A L L } :: a s l e e p . . . . . ``

Chris Brown - "Don't Wake Me Up"

- A b s o l u t i o n .

I feel strange.

I've been talking with friends, more so than normal, about certain topics. Some specific and some pertaining to broader subjects, but all relating back to me in some manner.

One thing I found particularly intriguing about myself is that I never could kindle some sort of sentiment for people. I mean, I'd say I'd miss someone or remember them, and I'd know it was true or that my expression changed from the compulsive focus, but I never felt the warm fuzziness in my heart for everyone. Granted, I have different relationships for each of my friends, and some memories I hold more fond than others... But.. I just find it weird that there isn't a baseline pinch in my gut or tickle in my feet when I say I miss someone.

I recently have been speaking with one of my good friends who is going through some hardships in their lives. Of course, everyone's going through a rough patch here or there, but this individual's got me snared by the brain: I usually know what to say or how to say it, but when they rattled off their concerns, their issues and inner musings to me, they left me dumbfounded.

They already knew and stated all the things I needed to say. And, to say the least, it makes me feel useless.

But it's a good learning experience.

This song came on Spotify one day, and I actually wasn't intending to develop any ties to it. But it wafted right in front of my face, and I thought I could do something nice and raw with it, so I'm going to look into it. Then I put it on InfiniteLooper and I transcribed the lyrics.

I stared at them and reveled in the defrosting epiphany that I didn't need to force any sort of sentiment ever.

There are certain people who grip my nerves, my heart and my mind better than others. Some are aware while others most certainly have no clue. And my invulnerability to that vulnerability has always been to turn a cold shoulder - and, in turn, freezing over my internal fire and the epiphany that glows with it.

My friend also admitted how much fear factored into their concerns and dilemma. What they were afraid of being capable of and what they would do if worst came to worst.

I gave my twopence, that it would never have to get that bad, that they would never have to stoop that low, but then I realized myself just how basic the human needs are.

And the conditions people live in to meet those needs sometimes never even phase me.

This is something I haven't finished exploring yet, how to face this dilemma, and even though I can shine as much light as I can reflect onto the dark spots, there are always corners where my light won't reach - always things I won't know entirely. But it's okay, because no matter what comes my way, there's always a way around it.

I missed my good friends from home. It's good to see them ago. It's good to come back home and see they're good and well and that they're having as much fun with their lives. That they're not suffering or that they're not becoming people I never knew.

I miss the people I never got to know as well as I probably wanted to.

I miss the people who make me feel special and the people who make me feel lesser than myself. I  miss the things that used to be and the things that could have been.

But when all things reconvene, when I see things fall into place, I'll remember what it was like to find those feelings, those sentiments.

But for now, we'll play it by ear.

And play the cards in my hand I know can get me to the next round.

Well. Friends are back, and we're going to hang out.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

`` the war is over . . . . ~

The Dance Within The Music: "The summary of a sad, happy girl."

"Recovery"

We need sleep.

We get up every morning and look for some sort of change to our lives. But, each day, we power through it all, expending the energy we take from outside into our bodies and needing to start it all over again.

We lay down our heads and close our eyes, escaping to a land where we don't look for anything, where we don't expect anything and where we can't discover anything.

Because everything we want and need is already inside of us.

Innate, the best traits are. A smile, a mind, a heart and a soul comes along with your delivery. Storage space goes for all the other materials that didn't play a crucial part in your manufacturing.

Best part?

They don't expire as long as you need them.

"Recovery"

We need reminders. We need things to tell us notions, phrases, words, topics, ideas that we already know, that we already understand and fully comprehend. Though, as if it goes without mention, we all expect one another to fully oblige and declare that it is all new-found information.

We battle through each day, expecting these perks to amplify our day. The greatness of our imagination spurns our desires from reality, leading it into something that we, ourselves, never once imagined, but what an outside force has influenced for us to believe is par custom - is part of our innate traits.

We're equipped with an endless surplus of love, of hate - of knowledge, of ignorance. Only when catastrophic events strike do we convince ourselves that any damage is irreparable. However, there are miracles, and miracles don't happen without an ounce of hope.

Without an ounce of hope.

 One of my good friends wrote this passage. They then confronted me to produce advice, to produce some sort of response that would appease them and give the girl in the story some sort of direction.

To you, sad, happy girls and boys, I say just be.

It's hard to find your identity as it is. It's so difficult to endure the years of schooling, the expectations, the slandering, the dramatic displays, the personal falters and even the massive mysteries that inflict the grander scheme of things.

Why would you want to drag yourself even deeper into the depths of the abyss?

I always say there's only up from here. However, receding into a ball or on all fours, completely humiliated and stripped of all respect is a bit lower than the starting point.

But, think about it this way: who doesn't fall to their knees every once in a while?

The passage presents a girl with some turmoil, with a struggle that she seemingly cannot resolve with any inner enlightenment or outer instruction. Advice is only as good as you make it to be, though sometimes reiteration assists in a different angle of things.

The best thing to do is to appreciate it.

Appreciate the place you're in, how disgusting you feel, how horrible your life seems to be, and how abhorrent you seem to yourself. Don't go so far as to make yourself pathetic, because you most certainly are not.

Y o u       a r e      h u m a n .

By appreciating this standpoint, this level which is evidently lower than the rest, you'll find something that makes you unique - like the ineptitude to breathe properly when touching the surface of an awry texture - and which will single you out from the rest of the crowd. Then rediscover your allies, your friends, your family and emphasize your adoration for them.

They wake up every day, they rise from their bed every morning, knowing full and well that their run in the end is not going to be everlasting in this realm, but that the deeds they do and the vibes they send are all that matter.

"I want to become educated to get a job."

"I want to attain a job so I can have wealth."

"I want wealth so I can live."

"I want to live because I need to live."

There are struggles that come in all shapes and sizes, and while we may not be able to catch them at first - while they may knock the wind from our lungs on impact or send us staggering back - remember that we're meant to stand upright.

That we're meant to stand up right.

Appreciate and aspire.

Recover.


<3 ~ Monty.
=]

N O W . m y . { feet WON`TTOUCHTHE ________ g r o u n d : ]

Coldplay - Now My Feet Won't Touch The Ground

It's the fourth Thursday of the eleventh month in America. Everyone knows it as Thanksgiving, and in elementary schools, they are told valiantly of pilgrims and turkeys and something or the other involving the Native Americans. All of the nice stuff. Charlie Brown's holiday specials start up and an impressively massive parade is held in the heart of New York City. Turkeys, geese, hogs and cows are slathered with enticing broth and surrounded in a sea of sustenance no one would ever dare to prepare for any other occasion.

Thanksgiving.

We learned it as a time of giving thanks, a preparation for the following, holiday season. It's a trigger to something we should already be alert and exercising.

I could find a plethora of things to complain about. I could find the misery in everything, and I could let it defeat me just as easily as it is working upon those around me, but there would be no point to it all. If I intended to drive my face into the dirt after every time I was forced back onto my own, two feet, I would merely destroy myself until I had shattered into pieces.

It's a vice that any human, especially within my generation, can intentionally or unintentionally abuse. We shouldn't gather around a table with people we haven't spoken to in months or even years, pretend to make amends, and then resume the year-long grudge or negligence. Losing touch is common, but there's a lot of energy and effort put into trying to make sure someone else knows that you detest them or that everyone should know how difficult your means of existence is.

It takes a while and it's a rough journey, but if there are things you most certainly are thankful for, the Tree of Life will turn up its leaves, despite the season of Autumn, and lessen the harsh rays of sun on your eyes; and shield you from the downpour of rain; and buffet the chilly winds of the sky, and be your stable support to get back on your feet.

You'll find your feet underneath you again.

Life is an interesting thing, isn't it? We always make it much bigger than us, always put it out of our own control, because we believe it is. But there are the variables that jar our social orders, that maim our perceptions of Life - the bad things make us think ill of Life and the good make us believe well of Life. All in all, our decisions, our opportunities, and our interactions determine what kind of Life becomes attracted to us.

Just as fascinating is the notion that there are individuals who are existing, thriving heartily through conditions we, as thankful, able Americans, could never imagine. Harsher politics, disgusting poverty, permanent handicaps - unfathomable to nearly all of my friends, I'm sure.

I occasionally imagine the life of a deaf, blind, or mute individual. I admire those physically handicapped and revere those mentally handicapped. They endure more judgement than they should ever deserve in their lives, only because it is in a form amplified from the judgement people cast at one another. I admittedly resolve that if I could trade places with a blind person to let them see, or with a deaf person to let them hear, or with a mute person to let them speak, I most certainly would.

But we complain at the newest piece of technology that is on the television that we urgently might need, that our current piece of communicating is obsolete and that everything in our immediate vicinity is against us. It's an honest truth that teenagers would rarely admit as much as they'd acknowledge it. Adults, on the other hand, find their issues within the communication between another individual or even with the obligations expected of them.

I do not have the answer to every dilemma - never have, never will - but there are ideals that may be better and beneficial than our current approach.

I am thankful that I am me.

I am thankful for all of the individuals in my life; the people who I've met once, the people who I see everyday, the people I've known for a week, and the people I've known for my lifetime. Each and every one, no matter the degree or angle of our interaction, helped mold me into who I am today. I always anticipate returning the favor to some degree, though there is only so much I can do for everyone else.

I am thankful for my family. Making everything in my life as difficult as it never should need to be, stretching me as thin as I should never dare - they have prepared me and rounded me into a human being who is willing and acceptable and great. Grateful, even.

I am thankful for my friends. I have different associations, a different relationship with each one, and I would never trade anything in the world for it. Unless I was then capable of making it even better for my friend.

I am thankful for my life. My capabilities, my talents, my flaws, my mind, my heart, my body, my soul. My personality, my features, my favorites, my interests. My home, my neighborhood, my neighbors, my schoolings, my path. My instructors, my associates, my past/present/future experiences.

I am thankful for being here each day. For being able to show my worth to those who will either appreciate it or fuel even more of a resolve and gain my respect with it. For having people on either side of me, behind me, and before me - for having a purpose and having a destination.

I am thankful for being able to complain. I am thankful for being able to distract myself from the task at hand. I am thankful for being able to lose my focus. I am thankful for being able to fall down on my knees and for being able to weep when I lose all my wits about me. I am thankful for being able to fight without weapons, for being able to make peace without words.

I am thankful for being greater than all the things I own.

I am thankful for being my mother's man and my father's son - for being my brothers' brother and my sisters' sibling - for being my cousins' cousin and my aunts and uncles' nephew - for being my grandparents' grandson and for being my nephew's uncle.

I am thankful that I am me, indeed, every day of my life.

I am thankful for you and who you are, for without you, the world - this Life - would be missing a crucial component.

I am thankful that I am me, indeed, for I would never rather be anyone else.

Happy Thanksgiving, world. Let's be thankful for more than just the things we can count on our fingers or name around the room - or just name, in general.

Thank you. =]
<3 ~ Monty.

where we are [ where we are ] where we are ; can you chase . . . this fire away ? { where we . . . .

Of Monsters and Men - "Lakehouse" 

Brown.

Everything's okay. Everything seems to be okay.

I just...

Orange.

I don't think anything's the matter. I don't see any issues with anything.

Yellow.

Because I know everything will always be alright, I won't believe that anything is out of the ordinary. 

Gray.

My chest is tight.

Green.

My bed is comforting. It is the leverage from the

Red

of this space. The tension, the raw fury that bounces off these

White

walls. They echo to the 

Black

windows, pleading with all the laws of physics to find their way out - to guide them to a

Blue

escape. Out there, there is solace. Albeit, chaotic sorts, but certainly with lesser judgment than pertaining to the confines of this paling fusion of

White

and

Silver.

Without colors, it'd lead us down the same corridor - our eyes - for they would not be able to distinguish the

Orange

cones in the street, or the

Yellow

tape. Big,

Black,

bold letters stretch across the face of the tape. One side faces away,

Charcoal

in the opaque tint of

Yellow.

Flashes of

Red

and

White

reach my

Brown

eyes, which look like

Black

when I see my reflection from the screen. It is a radiant, unyielding panel of

White

and 

Silver

with blots of 

Orange

to appease and distract. And through blurry eyes, clear of any hues, a smile as bright as the gleaming,

Yellow

sun, high in the sky - on the other side of the planet - stares right back at me.

Brown.

It gives me stability. It gives me assurance. Everything may not be as clean in the earth, but it is there for me to rely upon. It may not be a beneficial upstanding to my poise and the

Golden

eggs that I pray to lay, but from the rich hue of brilliant

Green

and

Purple

which strikes a chord of compliance and comfort from my own, beating

Red

heart, to another, frosty with icy,

Turquoise

veins and sickly,

Lime

arteries which pump Greed and Avarice -

Confusion and Arrogance,

Ignorance and Pride -

the music that leaps from

Green

and

Purple

to

Turquoise

and

Lime

blend into a richer, earthy color.

It may not be the shade I'm looking for, but

Brown

is what I'll get. 

And it's what I'll get.

<3 ~ Monty.

=]

the lactose intolerant appreciate the lactose indulgent ; o o 2 ]

Ear Milk.

Thank you my good buddy, Kieran Windorf for sharing this with me.

Check it out and let me know what you guys think of it! I'm going to sift through it for the first time while writing this. Let's see how it goes.

-

I have a lot to do.

I have too much to do, actually.

And I'ven't enough resolve to sit down and, at the very least, make a list.

Be it from the day, or even from the past week or so, things in life haven't really gotten in the way as much as they've turned things "topsy-turvy."

Let's start small, shall we?

I've got school work to hammer out. It's simple: get it done, and it won't be much of any obstacle, right? Right. Okay. I'll convince myself to do that once I'm done writing this.

Next is the fact that I have to write. It's a little cold in my room, and I've got to make sure I'm not completely exhausted after this work - not like it's anything really that bad, anyway. I have to write for NaNoWriMo, and for those who are as enamored with writing as I, they will recognize the noun as a rather colossal event. I think I've mentioned it before in a past entry - maybe not - but the point is to basically write a book in a month. About fifty- or sixty-thousand words within the span of November, thirty days. It's challenging a bit, but what's writing without a challenge, right?

I've been stumbling about trying to center myself as of recent. I also saw that one of the faculty members at my old school has been enduring some pretty substantial trials. She's very much the backbone of that school, and to hear her struggle is even worse not being able to see her every day and offer her whatever encouragement there is to offer. Thankfully, the issue's been remedied, and if you'd be so kind as to just send out good vibes to Mrs. Mahan and her family, it'd be greatly appreciated. =]

Centering myself coincides with that because I look to others for strength, more often than not. And a classmate of mine [ who's practically a stranger D; ] reminded the entirety of persons who are capable of viewing what he said that people don't believe in their selves anymore. And that kind of ticks off the box from last entry wherein I spoke of my instructor reminding us that it's not about her - it's about us.

I recently started envisioning colors with closed eyes to see if it makes the connections to what I need when I'm preparing myself for anything emotionally taxing in a performance. It's kind of a... "testing the waters" approach, since I don't really know what works all the time. "Triggers", things that obviously instigate some sort of reaction, haven't really clicked for me yet. But in a sequence of colors, I found symbolism of what I need [ or what I think I need ] before I approach anything. Maybe it'll help you too, maybe it won't.

You won't know until you try.

Blue. A deep blue to calm or a light blue to soothe. It flushes out everything else and leaves nothing but the black of your covering eyelids and the blue that you're imagining. Hold it until there's nothing else.

Green. It's like the color of grass. Whether the blue is gone or stays, green highlights the surroundings. It produces the area you're in and initially produces a feeling for the outdoors, but whatever you need, you can create - it's as simple as that.

Red. It's what I need the most, and probably why it's in the midst of the five colors. To me, its connotation is coupled with passion and drive. I need to draw more from myself to get through whatever the roadblock is. Writing, acting, singing, conversing, etc. It'll produce an initial emotional instability for me because I'll try to let open all of the floodgates, but then close the ones I need the most and focus on them. If I waste what I need, what's the point?

Yellow. Yellow's like electricity. I think of it as raw energy. It gets me bouncing on my toes. It gets me where I need to be and at the level I need to be. Energy's always good, and I like to think that I can make my own, so using those already-opened floodgates, I can redirect energy, emotion and focuses into whatever I intend to. It's like a good pep-talk before a good game, or the rebound of success after eons of failure lined back-to-back-to-back. It takes a bit longer to prep than I've been giving myself time for, but it serves its purpose.

Purple. Purple's a color of sexuality. Everyone has a sexuality, and so it can apply to anyone. I use it for character. Just because any actor can fit a role doesn't mean they fit the character. And I need to start doing more research on how to approach things - everyone says using the character's personality and choices and behaving like them will help relate to the character. However, I find that impersonating anything that isn't one of my own, personal muses / characters is pretty ineffective. I'll use an approach like anyone else: find someone or something I can relate to and plug it in. Simple enough, right?

Now the painting's of a red house by a river or lake with the bright sun shining high in the cloudless sky with a purple car. Or something like that. Point is, if you need to find colors or do it for yourself in order for it to help you out, by all means. I'm not patenting this because I'm sure other people have found it helpful too.

If anything else, it's a good meditation tactic, I guess. To each their own.

Next, there's the uproar of the destruction done by Hurricane Sandy. I'm sure you've all heard of the news on Sandy, but for those who were out of the hurricane's demolition range, it was pretty bad, overall. I haven't done my research, but from my traversing up and down the state and communications with friends littered about it gave me some sort of idea.

Not to mention the plethora of images that are circulating the interwebs.

What's weird is that everyone's complaining about it.

I was at my father's house for the brunt of it. It's not exactly a fortress of steel, and there have been minimal renovations and upgrades done on it, so I'm amazed it was untouched for the most part. The area around it all wasn't too tip-top, but it definitely hadn't been the worst. The same thing went for my mother's home: the worst was the backyard, which had a few branches from our apple tree littered about and more dead leaves than blades of grass. Both households lost power. That rendered my father's household idle and forced to interact for the majority of it.

We played cards by a candle in a pot on a crate and cracked jokes at each other.

Families know how to make the best of a worst condition.

I went to my mother's for the day I was coming back down to school, and since the household has fewer members, things weren't much of any different. My mother and my younger brother and our dog were present and excited to see me well and in one piece.

I was pleased to see them as well.

Just down the street, one of my brother's friend's family's tree [ so many possessive nouns - basically, the tree ] had been uprooted by the ferocious winds and collapsed onto one of their vehicles.

It probably sounds really bad to say, but all we do is complain.

I've only seen a handful of status updates saying how things are going that are positive and upbeat after surviving such a gruesome natural disaster. I may not know everyone who was effected by it, but I'm sure they'd rather their lives than losing their phone for a week, not getting paid for a week, or even lighting in their houses when there are people whose homes were probably emaciated by water damage or something.

It may be extreme, but I like to think this as a humbling experience.

We rely on everything that we can't control, and it's really bad. Technology is an invention of man, surely, but it's gotten to the point where we let it control and construct our lives. Not that it's a bad thing entirely, because we've done great things with technology, but intelligently utilizing what we have for progression is probably an innate characteristic that not too many people wish to exercise.

It's so much easier to face someone through a text, to evade a conversation by deleting a message or humiliate a stranger by belaying an image.

Sandy was a force to be reckoned with, and it's not like we never get hurricanes on Planet Earth.

It takes more than one person to pull the weight of an entire race. If we took care of things - namely our planet and its resources, probably - the way we're supposed to, I'm sure we'd be able to endure things better. Natural disasters bring out the best in even the worst people: humility, understanding, sympathy and compassion. Not everyone, but certainly more than none.

I'm sorry to all of those who may have been afflicted by the storm even greater and best wishes go out to all of those who are struggling to thrive presently - even those not effected by the storm in the slightest.

Via Tumblr.

It's something we'll need to work on, and me just saying it over and over and never exercising it isn't going to change much of anything.

I feel like this is a pretty hefty pro-active entry, but I also feel like I'm making a lot of sense. Agree or disagree, we're way past the point where we can kind of just sit down and mull it over for a bit longer.

The little things count. Start small and work bigger.

Don't end it.

Continue it.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

And I'll find strength in pain ; And I will change my ways - I'll know my name as it's called again .

Mumford & Sons - "The Cave"

Awareness.

How much do you actually pay attention to?

The surroundings you thrive in, the individuals around you - it makes a pretty landscape once you take a step back for a once over. I always say things, I always dedicate time to paying attention, though I never truly appreciate the meanings of these very things.

I miss my friends.

I missed my home.

I missed what I knew and was familiar with.

I actually thought about a few things today. The first month of college practically sped right on by. And, with a whole new territory, I thought a whole new environment would alter things enough for me to weave my way into a higher standing, into a better psyche and lifestyle. Fortunately, my mannerisms hadn't changed, which enabled two things: embrace and resilience.

I'm a practical individual who's most comfortable on ground which I've practically made myself. With a suggestion to "let the wind carry [me]" and even to let things happen and take their course, I interpreted it poorly and let completely go of the reigns - something I would never have been entirely content with otherwise.

If your first instinct was always to smile at a stranger, would you listen to someone who told you to frown or even scowl for no particularly unprecedented purpose?

Stumbling back to my feet, I needed to reassert my mindset. However, it's not enough. Adapting to a change should not incorporate changing nothing in order to adapt: it's simply ridiculous.

I've been lucky enough to have friends along the way who appreciate me for who I am, who have been the reason for my apparent aura, and who I've yet to find a legitimate fault within the realm of reasoning to condemn them for: each and every individual I've crossed paths with has taught me how to be a better person; hopefully, I've been able to create a symbiosis of sorts.

Two in particular helped my awesome (Mega-Chicken-)Monday go from just plain "awesome" to "super awesome-r."

Haha. I really do appreciate them with every fiber of my being.

But I thought of this entry's "theme," if you will, when I was given my critiquing for an exercise during acting class yesterday [ Monday ].

The first was a treasure hunt of sorts. 

The second was the response in one of my classes.

The exercise was called "Basic Object Exercise" wherein the individual would do something within the confines of a room in solitude - without other presences, without dialogue and within the actor's reason.

I was overly excited to have gone the day I was assigned to, but due to the others who preceded me performing for the allotment of our period, I was pushed to the next class, which was over the weekend. Not that it miffed me or anything, I was just a little less enthused. Of course, my anticipations of the weekend slowing me down were to eventually tinge my performance for Monday's class, though that was a bridge I'd cross when I reached it.

Fortunately, I sprang across the bridge in a pretty colorful leap, if I do say so myself.

My exhibition displayed innocence and joviality and liveliness. Oft when I go up, our instructor tells me that it's interesting to watch me. I search the meaning of that feedback nearly every time she shares it with me, though Monday's exercise was most certainly my best - note how it's been the only one I've shared with you all as of yet. Ha.

And then she proceeded to say:

"You didn't show us a part of your tragic past, but what it is like to see you in a different light: 'This is the part of me that is happy and warm and fun.'"

It then struck me that our prior efforts of trying to impress the instructor, as she had reiterated, no longer mattered, so long as it clicked within us and resonated that we were the ones who were learning. I understood the exercise moderately so, sure, but I was actually excited to go up and do it. Not to show off, but to do it because it was fun.

First time... in a while, I suppose.

That then lead me to think, during the midst of midterm scheduling chaos, of this here blog and how it's been abstinent for a bit too long now. I have nothing to preach to you, but I do feel like there was some kind of "lesson" to pick up from that. I've been a typical college student, if not less than one. I've been meandering to my classes, keeping up with my assignments here and there, and making more friends than I am sense of my education at the moment.

But my visit back home clicked everything back into its place. I recalled why I came here in the first place. I remembered the drive I had to get out of the house and make something of myself - not only for myself, but for the individuals around me, friends and family alike. I have no particular interests in going anywhere anytime soon, though I may have to make amends to the blogging schedule since now my days are getting busier and busier.

Or I'll have to find another way to communicate with you guys, looks like. One way or the other, I've got my buddy Erik by my side the whole way through, and we'll do our best with what we can. Dorming with him is probably one of the best decisions I've made yet, though we haven't entirely been aware of it yet. We need to sit together and actually connect in order for our synchronized being to produce what we desire. And until I learn how to break down my own walls as well as communicate better than the clacking of my fingers against his older laptop [ thanks to mine going "kaput" as of two weeks ago, attributing to my inability to keep up with blogs -excuses- ], I think I've got my work cut out for me.

I'm just happy because I've got a few more friends than I'd expected to help me out.

For once, I'm not spreading myself thin to support all of those around me, but they're extending their arms and pumping their tired legs with me.

#LSD&E
Laura Sam Darin & Erik
My main squeezes. <3

"So come outside of your cave walking on your hands

And see the world hanging upside down

You can understand dependance when you know the maker's land."

y o u n g ; b l o o d .

O n g o i n g - D o o m s d a y ; . . . ;

Where?

To the ends of the Earth, if you'll have me.

When?

Since the initial moment my thoughts, entangled in eternity, crossed paths with yours.

From the surface it rises, wide like a breath but narrow like a vision - the wonder to swell dwindles. Orbs would scintillate if their functions called for it.

And with winds of maximum proportions they die like short gusts, calling to another breath of flames.

Sweet, smoky flames that dance like memories of yesterday.
Sweet, smoky flames that dance like hopes of tomorrow.

That dance like the flames in the cavity at each convulsion of existence.

Life to be.

Live for me.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

they say that { HOME . iswhere - THE|HEART|IS ~

Ingrid Michaelson - "Are We There Yet" 

"They say, 'home is where the heart is.'"

A color.

"I guess I haven't found my home..."

Your feet are covered. Your shoes are dark, not glistening with the spittle of morning dew that ordain the blades of grass in your midst as you plow through them. They protect you from the cold which seeps deep and claws at your clothed feet, deterring another rough start to another rough morning.

Waking up this morning was a task. You rolled, tossed and turned in your sleep. You haven't any recollection of doing so, either from the lack of sleep or the intensity thereof, but your body is tired. You've been carrying the freshly doled burden of obligation and expectation about, toting it not on your shoulders, but dangling from your fragile, exhausted neck.

Your eyes hang as low as your heart within its cavity, weighted by life.

Each step you take is shaky - indefinite. For a reason beyond your comprehension, however, you find that your legs lead you to where you are headed without any accord of your own mind. Your mind is elsewhere: naturally, it is aware of where you are going, though it does not protest at the pace you choose.

In somber tones, your strides are droopy and gliding slowly.

Steps. Three of them, concrete. On either side is a railing, black and sturdy. Over your shoulder, you see a black bench made of the same material. It does not appear to invite you as you wished it would. It is present to commemorate an individual of the past, one who is noteworthy. It does not wish to indulge in your company when you have much more pressing and impressive matters.

Your shoulders hunch forth. The invisible medallion of the world laced around your neck from an equally invisible thread sways. Formidable and domineering, you lean forward, letting shame and defeat cast itself over your head. You are nothing, you are beneath everything.

The three steps taunt you as you struggle to scale them. Each planting of your foot is slick, hazardous to your progression. The Fates are out for your blood, are out to capture your soul in an all-ending catastrophe that would cause something vital to perish and all consequences thereafter to collapse upon you.

Lift your head.

Before you is a bridge. The three steps lead to a bridge. The railing on either side stretches the length of the narrow bridge. It is also concrete, white like chalk and stained like stone. Upon the interim of the second step - one away from the ground and one away from the bridge's surface - you consider your options.

Either step down, or step up.

You have a place to be. It escapes your wandering mind for a moment, but your legs tell you that the bridge is safe, that you have walked this path before. With a bare surface and unyielding, definite length, you surmise that it is something to be little of suspect. Should anything happen, you can easily retreat to the ground you are familiar with.

The bridge does not stretch any taller than its own length. Beneath is a murky slush of sludge and natural wastes from the lake partitioned from it, vast and open. Upon it are two fountains: one spraying in a customary blossom of clear and crystal water, tall and broad with all of its pride; and another which meagerly supports the lone spectacle with a background spout, uni-directional and functioning.

The reflection of the sky in the lake reminds you of something that is not necessarily sentimental to you, but enhances the initial vision you saw. Connections made, your eyes widen and your skin prickles. Not from the waterfront breezes, but due to the sudden epiphany and physical affirmation of its occurrence.

You turn to back where you started on the bridge. Backpedaling with a smile on your face, you see your resolve in the miniscule beads of morning dew. "A pep in your step" is a bit overcast of what your movement becomes, but skipping down the steps is putting it very lightly. You burst internally in a swelling of thoughts - confidence, pride, exasperation, excitement, elation, desperation, curiosity, hatred, cluelessness, hopefulness, and love. In that specific order, you begin to couple literal objects in your life wherein these emotional connections are conceived.

You reached the end of the bridge with a wide smile. Your strides grew longer and stronger. Your heart thumped with sudden energy and your eyes flashed with immediate vigor.

What was it you saw in the water?

"Are we there yet?"

<3 ~ Monty.

=]

`` T h e y . j u s t . l e f t . t h e . w h i t e . . . p a p e r . ``

Andy McKee - "Drifting"

Andy McKee, who are you? I've never heard of you before, but apparently, Youtube says you're a pretty familiar guy about the site. Well, I can certainly see why. You're obviously too cool for words, so keep playing your song, and I'll just keep writing in your stead. Sound good?

Good.

This morning, I heard something awesome on the radio.

Lately, a lot of broadcasters and jockeys have been dropping like flies. Something short of oppression, my mother dubs. It's too sudden for retirement and they are merely spoken of or referenced, as though the individuals have been blacklisted and the remaining employees have been forbidden from speaking their names.

Which is definitely lame.

If anyone ever overthrew me from whatever I do for a living - even from this blog... Well...

I'd probably just start another one.

-shrug-

But the people on the radio were telling this awesome story. Normally, in the mornings, I block out everything with my music. However, this morning I was feeling remarkably lazy, so I just threw everything in my bag and went into the car.

A lady was driving around. She was eighty-something, the radio host said, and she was driving out on a parkway. They introduced the topic by mentioning a relatable instance of when you've put something atop a car and [ apparently were in a rush ] forgot whatever it was you placed there, getting into the car and driving?

That's only happened to me once, and I wasn't driving. It was only a box, so I mean, it wasn't that big of a deal, but I digress.

This lady had paper flying from her car's tail. And she was on a parkway.

A man behind her realized that the paper was money - like actual dollar bills. He pulled over, collected what he could, and then tracked the lady down. How he did this so efficiently is beyond me, but kudos to the man, his soul be blessed. Once he got the lady to pull over, he gave it to her or something, and then the host went on to share that the money was for a homeless shelter and that she was bringing it as a donation.

Let's not blame the lady for leaving the money on her car or anything, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation as to why it escaped her, but the amazing thing about it was that, even with the guy having already done one deed, he couldn't make up the difference of the lump-some dollars on his own that she had lost.

So I guess they went along their merry ways, but the man was a construction worker. And what makes it even better was that he told his coworkers about the incident, and they passed around a hat or something and doled out some of their stash. They made up the difference, and it was delivered to the very charity that lady was taking it to.

That is cool. I'd like to meet the guy who did such an ordinary deed and ask him what was going on in his head. Just like I wanted to with that guy who gave the singing train man his sister's restaurant information for a free meal, routinely.

In places where people have been slipping up and stumbling onto their knees, others have been shaping up and reminding us that there is still the hidden compassion and selflessness circulating around.

So, today was my second-last-day-of-work for the summer. Did nothing that spectacular; a lot of students were testing out and doing examinations so they could go on about their business and start their careers officially. It's really awesome how they always seem really happy and my mom is genuinely proud of them and their success.

As much as she fusses and berates all of those who cop out, I know it's because she invests in their potential when they, themselves, have never even thought of it.

Interestingly enough, I've thought of teaching a few times myself. Naturally, I'd have to know what I was talking about, but I think I'd make an awesome teacher, don't you agree?

You better agree. I might actually just do it and then teach your child. Or grandchild. Or nephew / niece.

You never know.

Hahah.

But, speaking of students, the end of summer is here - finally happened for us over here in the Americas. Everyone's dreading and moaning and complaining about their workload, and I laugh - as I always do. It's nothing new, just the same old grind.

I wanted to share something also relating to school today, though. It was something I found on Tumblr - a glint of intellect that you rarely witness because of the flooding "feels" and "fandoms" which frolic about the site.

Here. Take a bit to read it.

An interesting suggestion: "Damn - lay off the bleach".

Done?

Wasn't that interesting? Once again, thanks to that teacher for embracing their fouled perceptions and turning them to a wider window.

I just... The gilded and absolute view of the world and its components we have are really, really wrong. If the world were to lose all of its advancements, all of its crutches, everything'd fall to chaos - anarchy.

People would fight one another for what was left, only to exact the expectation of selfishness being our own downfall.

Well, my mother - something of a source of wisdom for most wise individuals - always alerts me that I was born alone: alone and naked.

Not with anyone else, with nothing on me - no strand of clothing or pixel of technology on my body. Just me in all my great, naked, baby glory.

Morales and ethics. To a great degree, they're intangible, aren't they? They're, like... They're basically, in comparison, as important to our minds now as other people are to us - necessary only in duress and a luxury only in idle existence. But, what's more is that we're all different, and for the little girls of that class to state such things as someone being more beautiful than them in more than one way isn't merely an example of "whitewashing" - the term she used that is basically Hollywood's impression of perfection - but it is also a failure on our part as an entire being.

Another thing I found on tumblr was basically a family holding up two signs.

Here, let's see if I can find it.

Ahhhh. I can't find it.

The first sign said something about ceasing the cyclical and generational repetition of exercising hatred. The second said "And Learn to Love Again".

The family was Middle Eastern, on a bed, and was composed of a mother ( garbed in green, sitting up on the left ), a father ( garbed in brown and lounging on the right ), and a son ( wearing a lighter hue of green, in the middle beside the sign ). The son was probably no older than four, and they all looked remarkably elated and delighted with life.

All of your thoughts of the image are right.

I also wanted to pull up a reference from one of my older entries of when Alton Jameson swung into my high school for a school assembly. I'll grab the excerpt and include the link as well, in case you wanted to read that [ if you haven't already ].

YES! FOUND IT! [ You think I'd be better at knowing where I put my own entries, huh? Hahah ]

"Benjamin was really upset at his early-schooling teacher for instilling the discrimination within impressionable children; 'find what doesn't belong and strike it with an 'x'.' His converse, in a much calmer tone, was 'find what is different from the others... and put a smiley face next to it.'"

This was one of the many things that made me smile. 

- From the entry April 17, 2012 - Karmin: "Remembered"

Yeahhhhhh. This quote made me happy. I think I'm going to reread that entry when I'm done with this.

But it's.. it's just strange. Our summers were spent either at our own interests or to the convenience of our families. We hung out with our crowd of people, with our friends and family who may have given us a lot of grief, but who never produced any earth-shattering dilemmas.

But... the concept of teachers revamping their own vocabularies and approaches to absolve discrimination within the classrooms might be a bit more feasible if we focused on it. I know for certain my younger brother's learning well, and the day I have other young ones who look up to me, I'll try and teach them the same things I've learned myself.

I think it's right, at the very least. And no one's told me I'm a "wrong person" yet, so I'll keep believing in what I hold true.

I've made promises to some people: a "Good Morning Text" roster; obligatory friend-finder program for another; some socializing amplifying here and there - all of it's just sharing love and having fun. Naturally, I'm going to focus on my studies and mingling all the same, but I'm just really honored that the grace of the world has been able to deliver me to such a standing. It's strange to conceptualize from the outside looking in, but I'm definitely... not in the right state of mind to try and delve any deeper. Hahah. I've tried making it settle in, tried convincing myself that it's realer than I'm allowing myself to believe - and, yet, my mind is merely processing it as it does everything else and isn't making a grand deal of going to college.

Which, personally, I believe is a beneficial thing.

This way the nerves are out of the way and there leaves more space for figuring out what our predecessors left behind and situate the ways in which we can amend them.

I say it all the time: you're beautiful as who you are and no one can do your job better than you. I read something on Tumblr the other week that essentially admitted it was... requested to be completely and wholly honest, rather than gild things and sugarcoat them. Even the superficial outlook of banking that the future was brighter, that there were other suffering and basically everything else I stand solidly upon was... unwanted and undesired at times.

"I just want you to tell me that everything's not okay - that way I know it's just that much more important."

- Miscellaneous Tumblr Post

This gathered a sideways look from me.

It does give news a realistic tone when I say that the roller coasters I've seen people on during the summer were brutally honest and abhorrently emotional.

But... Everything I am just needs to admit that there's always that possibility that things will get better.

The definite promise that, if I don't do something to better your circumstances, something or someone else will.

Because you were never meant to suffer.

You were meant to learn.

Good luck in the school year. You'll be hearing from me on Tuesday, definitely.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

it . don`t . move me [ - - ] :: nomore ;

Here.
Have some Peter Bjorn and John.

So. I'm busy this week. Packing and stuff. Right now, I'm transferring numbers to my new phone and stuff. And then I have to run and pick up my mom from work, so I won't be able to really sit and dole out my conscience right now. But I'm sure a lot of people are busy this week anyway.

I'll get a good one to you on Friday.

Until then, don't be afraid to take chances, to question yourself, and to be who you are.

Hope you had an awesome August and an even better Summer.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]

watching as the world goes hammering on . you say that you've got nothing left . nothing for you to find . you're gonna wait it out - you live in the dark . . .

Ingrid Michaelson :: "Do It Now"

Where is everyone?

Move-in for most of my friends was this week. Some left earlier in the week. Some left in the middle of the week. Some are leaving this weekend.

I'm here until next weekend, but I mean..

I'm all mopey. Hahah. I figured I was going to miss them when it happened, and it's not that big of a deal because I'm more than certain they're all having great times and making more friends. If they're not, they obviously never listen to anything I ever tell them.

I stumbled over "Human Again" - Ingrid Michaelson's latest album; I actually love the track "Fire" on it, but "Do It Now" speaks to August's Month-By-Month more than anything else I've ever used, I think.

Thanks, Ingrid.

So. I don't really know what to talk about. I'm at my dad's house, and it's one of those places which is.. like, absolved of responsibility on my part. I was always the blacksheep [ in both households ] so it was never my concern to fit in, to assimilate - only to exist. What's worse is that there are so many people cramped in one place, I don't feel like I need to do anything here - as if all of their corners are covered.

I have a better relationship with my siblings than I do with my parents[es].

My mother and father treat me like a son. Occasionally, I'm their son, respectively [ individually ], and only rarely am I inclusively their son. It's something I grew to never concern myself with.

My step-parents, however, were always helpful. I respect them more than I do my own parents, only because they've dealt with my presence, my apparent burdens of existence better than my own parents have.

Which speaks volumes, personally.

But, I digress. I only meant to mention that the environment isn't one to really do anything productive in here. Yet, I'm finding words. A tinge of irony always seems to reach me when I least expect it [ seems like irony's denotation? ]

Anyway. The summer is over. People have gathered their bearings for school in September over here in our Western Hemisphere of weirdness. I have friends all over the place, and a couple of my buddies Way Down Under are just getting out of their school year with finals and all. To each their own.

I got a call earlier today from my buddy Alex, who I bet will even forget today's Friday and there's nothing I can do to harass him to sit and read this. Because I'd rather him have a great time than read me talking in circles, y'know? But, it just goes to show that things are moving.

And Ingrid's singing about all the things that everyone's trying to make their own: "carpe diem; seize the day; live like you're dying; you only live once; etc."

It's about figuring out what you need to do, when you need to do it, and actually doing it.

I went to get a phone for college today. Long story short, I didn't get it because I'm still a baby in several senses of the word, but I did something nice after. I mean, I was standing and watching for a moment, seeing if anyone else was going to do it, but when the guy was searching his person, pausing dramatically as I presumed wonder flooded his system and concern crossed his countenance, I stepped forward to pick up his bus ticket and gave it to him.

He turned to me, phone to his ear and bag shrugged over his shoulders, with the biggest smile I've ever seen anyone give me.

I just paused and stared at that line. It was weird, because I remembered it and it made me feel all warm and tingly inside. Hahah. Love strangers.

One of my good buddies, Matt, announced that he was headed down to DC for college a few days ago.

Miss him already.

And, the best part was that it sunk in, finally: I couldn't call him and ask him if he wanted to hang during the weekend.

I mean, it's not like he'd be dropping off the face of the planet. It's just that he'd be out of my reach for a few months.

And what's worse is that I'm thinking that I won't have reasons to harass them anymore.

But that's obviously ridiculous.

I said my goodbyes to certain people who were available and I was in the mood to not get all misty-eyed over. Hahah. Others, I don't intend on relinquishing from my incessant communications with.

"No one's gonna wait for you."

I told some of my friends to go and be social. Go make a lot of friends because making a lot of friends is always fun. And it makes it easier when you're trying to spread the good, y'know?

For some reason, I feel like I need to say something else. But I don't know what to say. And this entry's a little all over the place because I'm just listening to Ingrid and trying to focus on her rather than the bed I'm sitting on. Haha.

In a couple of weeks, I'm going to be in a new place, just like all of my friends.

And they're making me feel like a parent, all sentimental and stuff. Hahaha. I guess it's the ties as "family" or whatever, but it is what it is.

Hopefully they just remember what we all learned together and remember who they are. At the very least, if you don't remember what I told you and don't be yourself, I'm going to hunt you down and visit you on campus.

And make you be yourself. Or something. I don't know what you want me to tell you. Just go and have fun for the rest of your summer.

Because college is gonna be different from our times in high school. No more drama, no more stress - just friends and your business.

Just make sure you stay on top of things and you'll be fine.

To all the rest of you, you have no excuse not to read these entries. Hahaha. I'll be harassing you throughout the rest of the school year. Just try not to miss me too much, and we'll make it through, easy. Promise.

Love you guys. Hope you all had an amazing summer - or, in the Eastern Hemisphere's case, go have an awesome rest of winter and a lovely Spring. Hahah.

Yeah.

<3 ~ Monty.
=]