To Reflect Upon the Moon: What We Need.

Bernice is still struggling. If you have no resources to share, do send her some positive thoughts at least.
https://life.indiegogo.com/fundraisers/victim-of-circumstance-declared-dead-when-alive

Reminder: Click the youtube links when you see 'em and listen while you read!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPFz04LSa2U

Introduction:
What is this blog? Why am I writing it? Do I have a message, a stance? Do I want to get a bunch of followers and then put ads up and live some sort of glorified google funded "blogger" life?
No. This blog is my ongoing effort to put my entire self out there. I don't want to hold anything back. I don't want to hide myself at all (not that I plan on revealing the details of a bathroom visit, nor my personal turbulent journey through puberty, but those have happened too).
This time I am spending at home is a time for me to reflect and delve into my past. I am slowly coming into the belief that the only thing we can ever truly know is ourselves. However, by knowing ourself, we can conquer our world. Still working on both parts.
I do want to continue to increase the brevity of my blog. Yet at the same time, I just have so much I want to share! So, here's what you do! Just scroll down and read the sections that interest you. Nobody has to read the whole thing. Nobody has to read any of it at all in fact. This is just my honest attempt to honestly put myself out there honestly. Honestly, I don't know why anyone would even want to read it! It's just Me! That is all I want this blog to be. Me.

So read as much or as little as you like. Think whatever you want about me. I won't, can't, apologize for any of it. Maybe I'm pretentious or arrogant or selfish sometimes. Maybe I'm depressed or whiny or rambling sometimes (like right now). Whatever is here is Me. And if for whatever reason you want to read about Me, whether because there's something here you can learn or you are entertained by my odd bicycle adventures or you just want to make fun of Me, go for it. It's here for you.

This week's guest photographer: Irene Liebler!
http://superninestudios.com/

I hope I can one day capture such beautiful images as Irene.
I left it to her to capture the images of my home.
This is West Lake.
I was blessed to have grown up with it.
I love this Lake.

This week we were Home.
I left here to find many things.
In just five short months, in a big U from here to Chicago, I found so much more than I ever thought existed.
The world is larger than I had ever imagined
and much different than the constructed world of Connecticut had me believe.
This place is a dream. A Heaven on Earth.
But we're people
and after the snow falls
we cover it in dirt and piss on it and shovel it out of our way.
We have work to do.

Poetry:
I want to admit, here and now, that I have barely ever read any poetry in my life. I was never really interested in the stuff and I really just did not get it.
I honestly don't know anything about poetry.
At least, I didn't, until I started writing it. The split from my fiancee was difficult for me, and I figured I'd give it a try. It's what some people do, right? I just won't show it to anyone...
After getting a few poems down and reading them over again, I found they brought me right back to that moment when I wrote them.
Feelings and all.
"Oh, so that's what poetry is! That's pretty useful!"
I started writing different poems for different feelings. The sonnet/love poem was/is by far my favorite. I enjoyed being able to revisit my feelings by rereading my own poetry, so I kept at it.
On the road, writing a bunch of words down now and then in some seemingly meaningful way, I've come to have a belief on what it truly means to "write poetry." People talk about good and bad poems and I won't refute them. However, I have my own idea about poetry now and I'd argue with Robert Frost himself if he disagreed! I don't consider this arrogance—his poems are far better than mine and I would never claim otherwise. But I consider having some stance and concept about whatever it is one does to be a good sign of confidence at least. After all, this is all simply my truth. If you disagree you're not wrong, but your idea that might make sense in your world doesn't fit into mine—thus I'm ready to defend myself. With words and ideas and emotions. Here's what I think:

A good poem is one that allows most readers to see, feel, and/or understand what the writer saw, felt, and/or thought when they wrote it.
A bad poem is one that simply doesn't do its job.

"Bad Poem"

poop.

"Good Poem"

The light of the moon reflecting on the surface of the lake
Was red
and the twinkling water
Was dark
and I was cold
until my friend came.

See, the "Bad Poem" is actually a good poem because it's doing the job I want it to. It's expressing my idea here! I'm trying to express to you all that a poem should have some meaning and express an idea or a feeling. The "Good Poem" is just some words I bullshitted out. If you like it, great, and there's a tiny message in that tiny amount of words I guess, but I'm really not trying to say too much there. If I was trying to say a lot (such as I am with an aforementioned sonnet) then the poem would have a have a lot more depth. The best poems are poems that have so much depth that everybody can take something different from them, while at the same time express the feelings and ideas the author intended.
That's all I'll blabber about Poetry for now. Just one more disclaimer—I don't know what I'm talking about. Anyways, here's my poem about Connecticut. Another reason I didn't want to come home was that I didn't think I was ready to face it. I may have been right, but another force deemed otherwise, and they're right. Still a big message though. And the question begetted, what do we do? Who do I care about? Who can I help? Who needs me? We're still figuring it all out, but here's what we got so far.

"White Night"

I have everything.
It's all mine.
I'm in my castle.
Those below me pay their tithe
Those above unawares

I can stay.
I can keep it all.
I earned it.
I did damn it!
But wow—they sure are hungry out there.

They all want something.
The zombies banging on the walls outside
They'll eat me apart my god don't let them in
They'll take everything every brick every daughter everp crop
They will leave me with NOTHING!!!

I raise my gate.
Atop Armored Course.
I ride forward.
I see the real world.
Beyond what they put into my thoughts.

The Knife is hanging by a thread from The Moon
Do you really want to go to MARS?
Do you really want to pretend to fly away in an imaginery spaceship?
Do you really want to just wait and see how it all crashes down?
I have faith, but I also see!

God is still here!
It is not too late!
Wake up from this fake White Night you're all dreaming!
YOU DON'T JUST WANT LOVE AND WARMTH!
YOU WANT TO HORDE EVERY BIT GOING 'ROUND TO YOUR CASTLE.

Wake up and see!
See the drowning children.
See the starving on the street.
See The Volcano about to explode!
SEE. SOMETHING>

So I found some "old" journals with some "old" poetry from one year to five months ago.
It feels old to me, as I feel like a completely different person now.
I'm not going to say who or what these poems are about or their context at all.
That's the beauty of poetry.
You can hide the message inside, then show the world.
You can say just how much your heart aches or just how much you fucking love someone and put it on your dumb blog without embarrassing yourself.
And maybe, if you do a good enough job with it, someone will be able to understand.
Even if they don't know you at all.
I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

"Dishwasher"

I pick up the three spoons and knife first.
There's a fork in the spoon section.
The pot is precariously balanced atop dishes and bowls.
At an angle, I can tell, just how that person felt
when they dropped that pot there.
I move it out of the way.
It's mostly my mess, I know that.
I had more important things to do than clean it right away.
Yes, they are important.
I fill the racks with indignation.
These days, many places are filled as such.
I need reminders sometimes, I know that too.
But it doesn't have to be the first thing you say to me
as I walk in the damn door.
I rearrange things a bit, to be more efficient.
You never cared about that.
Just like you keep turning it on during peak hours.
As if all those little things don't add up.
They do. They did.

The metallic gray sink is empty now and I reach for the pot.
I recall when we were a team, once
Taking turns, even working together.
You used to greet me at the door
Excited I was finally home
eager to help me relax from my long day.
How did we fail each other's expectations so greatly?
How could we never beat this?
I put the scrubbed and rinsed pot on the drying mat
and know that in the morning
the first things you'll do
is yell at me to put it away
and I'll weigh
what love I still have for you
against the anger and the sadness and everything else
and decide if it's worth the fight
or not.

"Welcome Home!"

You'd proclaim as I walked up to the door
fidgeting with my keys
though I didn't need to.
In this apartment we can hear the footsteps in the hall.
And within all those stomps heading downstaires, a pattern
that you could always pick out
the footsteps that were mine.

You don't say much any more, as I walk inside
nor do you turn the latch
as I fumble my bags and binders
'cause I need to take out the key.
But I know you still listen
despite the shouting and the silence, now and then
if you just happen to be by the door
it will still unlock.

"The Day to Come"

Blood and pus and fleas and past
too much for three hours of sleep.
The blood at least I can trust.
I would welcome it on a normal day
but it mixes with the pus, forming a poison
that drains me of my energy.
By itself, the pus can rise to the surface
of the skin, threatening to burst.
it must be drawn out.
The fleas sneak themselves in
reminding me of all the things
that I am not yet ready for
Infesting my space
Slowly making their way
for my head.
The past is around me, always.
my mistakes and regrets, hanging from the walls and dancing on the ceiling.
I have to get away
but where can I go
to escape from it?
No, I can't escape from any of these things.
I need more sleep.

"My Favorite Sky"

Beautifully clear.
Breezy, so that no sort of smoke can interrupt.
Barely, clouds in the distance, moving away.
Beckoning, the fullness of the moon growing ever closer.
Blinding, each star another story to share.
Blinking, small aircraft, things we nearly forgot.
Behold, this vastness, such a human experience
Brings, clarity yes, but also comfort, and relief.
Bask, as if all that matters is above you.
Beautifully clear

"Rough Day"

Lunch Break.
I head to my car.
Eat my sandwich.
Turn something on on the radio.
Only fifteen minutes.
I think about being back inside.
Something clicks.

My is car is on and I'm driving, windows down, air pushing through my hair.
Red light, so many obstacles in my way, every day.
Red light, people are so apathetic about, every thing.
Red light, if only they took the time to understand, every one.
Green light, feels good to go, every time.
I'm heading North, I think.
Doesn't matter much, I know.
Heading to somewhere nice, I am.
Car putters on E, I stop.

I step out of my small metal shell and into the world and I feel the cool late Autumn air.
Most of the leaves have fallen by now, but the crinkling sound they make as I step atop them recalls to me memories of my childhood, when I would explore off the path into and under thick brush, hunting for raspberry bushes or mulberry trees.
I begin to run down the road, abandoning the vehicle on the frozen dirt which it died upon.
I sense animals in the wood, starring briefly as I pass, before returning to their business.
As my body heat builds I discard my suit—I don't need it now.
I've no inkling of where I am or where I am going, but I know that there is no where else I would rather be.
My legs guide me into the trees. My home is where my feet take me. My future is the horizon and my past is a footstep. My spirit directs me deeper into this nature.
I am not lost.
I am found!
Then, I realize,
it has been fifteen minutes.
I click the radio off
and head back to work.

Reflections-

-Self:
What is really here for me at home? A lot, actually. When I left, there was nothing. But now I see, here there is Life, Love, and Opportunity. Through traveling I've learned new ways of looking at the world. Now, being home after traveling, I can view my home through these news lens, and compare here to the places that I've been. What would my life be like if I decided to live in Connecticut in Philadelphia in Baltimore in Richmond in Asheville in Tennessee in Lexington in Yellow Springs in South Bend in Chicago in ??? It's like I'm in Quincy Market. There are so many options and they all have pros and cons. When I keep traveling, I'll find even more places to choose from. But I don't need more choices. So, what do I need?
I need to finish what I started. I need to complete my dream. I need to keep climbing higher. I can be happy living anywhere. I see that now. But it's not where it's who. I am not yet who I want to be. I can feel it. I'm still distracted by food, still defeating myself over little things, still hesitating to jump because I'm afraid of the landing. Yes, I could live here, and I am so lucky to have this home to return to. Many people I've met on the road do not. They can't take a break from their journey. They can't rest and recharge and resupply.
I am blessed to have this but I can't hide here. The World is there waiting for me. I am not ready to be here. I need to earn it. I need to prove to myself that I deserve all this. I need to be able to survive on my own. I need to have faith in myself. I need to complete my journey—my dream. I need to ride my bicycle. I need to go back to Chicago. I need to go West.

-Connecticut:
One reason I am not ready to be home again is I have yet to harness the willpower to not be distracted by the copious amounts of food and entertainment here. And all of it is a distraction.
Billboards constantly remind you about about food or things you want or bills you have to pay. The radio keeps you listening to music of your "choice." Work keeps you tired and busy. Your things keep you tied down and immobile. Your house and car and electricity and heat keep you paying and worrying. You don't think anymore. You just keep running in the rat race. Make money spend money. Don't have the time to do stuff yourself so you gotta pay someone to do it. Then you gotta make more money so you can pay more people to do more things for you. Fix your car. Clean your house. Make your food. Watch your kids. Raise your kids.
People here iare stuck and they don't even know it because they don't know any other way to live. After all the stress from work and traffic and whatever drama or nonsense is in our lives, people just want to relax and have some enjoyment. Food, alcohol, TV, drugs, comfort. But enjoyment becomes addiction when you can't control yourself—when you can't stop. We convince ourselves we need something, but do we really?
Need is defined as unable to live without. Or maybe unable to live happily without. Or maybe unable to live and be satisfied without. What do we all need to be satisfied? When we don't get it, when we aren't satisfied, then we're not happy and we want more. Or even if we do get it we know we can't hold on to it forever, so we're not even happy with that. In this New England World, the only way to get anything is with money, seemingly. So we all work our asses off just trying to get something. Trying to get ahead. Trying to get things. Trying to get somewhere. Trying to get someone.
So we're all working to get all this stuff and all these things, but What do We Need?

Well, I don't know what you need, 'cause I'm not you! Living on my bicycle these few months I've been trying to figure out what I need. I'm not there yet, but I'm trying to figure it out at least. I'm thinking about it. When you're on a bicycle and there's nothing around you but trees and the road, the only thing that distracts you is your own thoughts. And then you realize that that's what you are, all those thoughts. Then you think about that. And you keep pedaling.
There are a lot of people I love. I don't need to name any names, because if you're reading this it's probably you. Even if we just met briefly and you felt like seeing what I wrote on my blog this week, it's probably you.
I love you.
And I need that love in my life.
I am slowly learning over time that really that's all you need. A little food a little space and a lot of love.
However, what I want to do with my life, where I need to go, requires me to not have that in my life.
And that is the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. Making the conscious decision to walk away from love. To choose to love myself and my own path and my own story and not share and enjoy and grow together with people. I truly need all those things, but we have to have a balance of others love and our own love. We have to help others and ourselves.

-Drugs:
A great man in Ohio told me about his policy with his daughter: She could try whatever substance she wanted to, as long as she did it at home. This gave her the ability to experiment in a safe environment. Consequently, in his words, "Other kids her age are out there doing dumb shit and getting hurt, but she's right here, because she knows better."
I agree with his stance. My belief comes not only from what he showed me but also from my own experience. We can't hide from the world. We can try to protect people, our loved ones, from the chaos out there, but everyone needs to experience life for themselves. No matter what we do, each person is going to make their own choices. When it comes to drugs and alcohol, the fact is that it is out there and it is everywhere. People are struggling with addiction from here to Booneville.
The way our culture approaches this dilemma is just totally backwards and naive. "Drugs are bad. Don't do them." Well that sounds great in a 5th grade classroom, but years later when a student in that class is sitting off to the side while their peers seem to be having a heck of a lot of fun experimenting and living life, the message becomes a little less realistic. Even if the individual holds strong to what they learned in D.A.R.E. class in middle school, perhaps life will go sour one day ('cause life does that sometimes, no matter who you are). Then they'll give some something a try and be totally unequipped to deal with just how happy it makes them and just how wonderfully the stuff solves all their problems—temporarily.
Also, depending on where that 5th grade classroom is, half the class has probably already tried half the substances you can think of, and the police officer more than likely is gonna smoke a bowl before bed that night. And no, I'm not hypothetically making this up. I have spoken with many people and they have seen this. That's the reality, yet we're still arresting people (in some places. Guess where!) for having this stuff, while at the exact same time encourging everyone to drink up and have a great time—but please do try to get home without killing anyone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UA8rcLvS1BY
Maybe ^ that song is a bit dated of an example
but I stopped paying attention to that sort of scene.
I'm sure you can find any number of recent examples of the glorification of drinking yourself.
Though I challenge you to find a better one than Jesus bestowing holy vampire defeating champage.

When I was about 13 years old, seeing my father struggling with alcohol, not trusting myself with the stuff, and admiring my artistic Uncle who swore that and drugs off, I decided to do the same. High School and college sailed by and I stuck with it (not that I was tested too much as I was just playing video games in my room half the time). By not drinking I was able to see past the glamour. Yeah, my friends looked like they were having fun, but then the next morning they would wake up in a little pool of their own vomit on the bathroom floor and wouldn't remember much if anything of their "great" night before.
So no, I am not interested in alcohol. I have never imbibed and do not know what it is like to be drunk. When I tell people this, the response is almost always the same: "Wow lucky you." or "I wish I did that." Occasionally people are a little off-put by it, like they don't understand. At a party in Richmond, Virginia, I do believe I was literally the only person there without a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. And there were a lot of people there. That sort of prevalence can only be explained as cultural.
So after college I became a mentor and a science elementary school teacher. Having never touched drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes, I suppose I coulda been a D.A.R.E. spokesperson. My fiancee at the time drank occasionally, but we both sheltered the other from any sort of exploration into any people or places that might expose us to that sort of stuff. We just stayed at home and played video games together or with our small circle of friends. Those were simple days. When we moved in together, just the two of us, we both started breaking out of that self-imposed shell and began exploring and learning. We were both naive and ill-equipped for the world though, that's for sure. She got into the EDM Rave scene and had, is still having, some crazy adventures of her own, but this story isn't about her. This is the story of how I, an elementary school teacher that at age 27 had never altered my mind before in any way, started smoking marijuana, and what that change brought about in my life.

Story:
On my way to work one day somewhere in the more rural inland area of Connecticut, I happen to hear on the radio that Arcade Fire is coming to Bridgeport, Connecticut for a show in a couple weeks. Holy crap! No one ever comes to Connecticut and if they do they sure don't go to Bridgeport! I didn't even know Bridgeport had a venue! Paul Newman called that city the "Armpit of America" and I tended to agree with him...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7E0fVfectDo
So I go on facebook to see if anyone will go with me. I mean, it's Arcade frakkin' Fire! They are huge AND awesome and like woah they're right there I've gotta go come on friends! But none of my friends apparently listened to Arcade Fire. sigh. No one really responds except for D, a girl I had been hanging out with who got me to try marijuana the week previous (that's another story). So D wants to join me and I'm really excited! Like, wow, that lady I just had an awesome weekend with wants to come, this is perfect!
So I pick D up in New York (which is quite the drive by the way. Lots of traffic) on Friday and she is a different person. I don't know what was bothering her, nor did I ever find out, but she was in some bad mood and that mood persisted for the entire weekend. The St. Patrick's Day Parade that previously sounded cool to her? "Why would I ever go to that?" The cat shelter I volunteer at weekly? "I think I'm just gonna stay here." She literally just sat in my living room for days, smoking marijuana, eating food, and ignoring me as she poked around on facebook. All weekend. It was kinda weird, and stressful, and not the pleasent company I was hoping for.
There was still hope though. The concert! It was on Tuesday. Even though the current situation was confusing and difficult, the whole weekend could still be salvaged if we both had a nice time at the concert. If not for that, she probably would have left already. But then, another very serious problem arrises. On Monday, she runs out of weed. The thing ya gotta understand about D is that she is the biggest pothead I have ever seen. She smoked all day every day. I don't know how she could afford it! We were an odd pair, her not only having a wide range of experience with various drugs but also being a vocal advocate of their use, and myself, an Elementary School Teacher who had never touched or utilized drugs or alcohol of any kind.
D had some intestinal issues and the pot was apparently the only thing that helped. Without any weed, there was no way the concert was going to go well. There was also no way I was going to drive back to her house in New York just to get her weed. If I brought her over there she was going to stay there. So, the only option I had was to get weed in my own social circles. This was an odd position because everybody knew that I don't do that kind of stuff. I was an Elementary School Teacher. So I only knew of three people that smoked. First my friend Sean, he doesn't answer. Second my friend Heather, she gets it from her boyfriend and he's outta town. Third, my little brother...
"Hey Ian, this is gonna sound really weird coming from me but... Do you have any marijuana?" I say ina text on Monday night. By the midday Tuesday, still no response, nor does he answer/return my phone calls (he never does). With the concert coming up, and Ms. D's mood not improving one bit without her weed, I am left with only one option. My brother took over my old room back at the folks' house and I know where he keeps the stuff. Just some mysterious green plant matter in an inconspicuous glass jar. We're brothers! I'll just leave a twenty or something and he can bill me later.
So we drive over to my home and my mother is home. D waits in the car as she does not wish to meet my mother under present circumstances; to which I agree. Mom thinks I'm home for an Amazon.com package. I just let her think that.
"Yeah mom, gotta get something from my old room..." As I am walking up the stairs into the room, finally, my brother responds.
"I'm happy to say... I'm all out! But you can ask Mom and Dad!"
I immediately curse. He's out? Really? Now what'll I do? I check the vial and as he said, it is empty. Shit. Maybe I should try giving Sean another... Wait a minute.
Mom and Dad... Smoke?
I slowly walk downstairs, "Mom?"
"Yes honey?"
"Mom, I need to ask you something, and you gotta tell the truth, and you can't ask why."
"Okaaaay..."
I gently place my hands on my mother's shoulders and look straight into her eyes.
"Do you smoke marijuana?"
"Why do you wanna..."
"Mom!"
"...Yes?"
A long moment passes as that sinks in.
"...Okay well I need some."
So I explain to my mother the situation and D's need for the stuff. She grabs a little vial on her keychain and puts a small bud into the palm of my hand.
"That's a lot for me..."
"Thanks Mom."
I bid my lovely mother adieu and, with the bud in my palm, walk to D in the car and hand it to her. She looks down at the offering.
"Feh, it'll do!" she scoffs as she takes the mysterious drug and smokes most of it right there. As for me, I'm just confused as my mother said it was a lot and D said it was a little. With that issue resolved, we head over to the concert.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oI27uSzxNQ

The Arcade Fire concert was a blast! At least, what little I saw of it was. We went in late and left early. I got to see my favorite Arcade Fire songs performed, so I was happy about that, but the concert was just not the fun and memorable bonding experience I was banking on it being. On the way home, D is, at last, quite apologetic. She knows she sort of ruined my concert experience, not to mention I bought her ticket, which was not cheap at $160. I really have every right to be upset. The whole weekend has been super stressful to me and nothing really worked out, however, I know that if I choose to be upset at that point, then there is no chance for a good night. If, despite everything, I still choose positivity, at least then there's the chance that I might have a good night.
So we arrive back at my abode and D offers me some (of my mother's) marijuana. After the craziness and stress of the last 4 days (not to mention the stressful work week before) I'm sort of at my limit. "Sure. I could use some."
So perhaps you, the reader, have tried marijuana, perhaps you have not. Perhaps you question the character of anyone who burns this weed and inhales its vapors, or perhaps you are a huge stoner yourself. I have personally found it extremely beneficial for me. I hear the stuff has a different effect on each individual, but for me, it helps me think with a different part of my brain and see connections. The first connection I made that night: My little brother smokes. My parents both smoke. They all knew... And they didn't tell me. I was kept out of my family loop! For all I knew, they were all passing the blunt around without me, saying, "Don't tell Justin!" with smoke comin' outta their noses! Realizing this, coupled with the fact that all my friends who were against the stuff were all too busy for me, and that I had to admit, I liked the stuff! It felt good, and maybe it could help me with my social anxiety issue... I decided I no longer had any reasons to not smoke marijuana. And I did end up having a pretty good night that night.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NcLC-renYBs

I realized pretty fast though that this stuff was really great! That is, the way it made me feel was so great, I could easily see myself not wanting to do anything else other than that all the time... And that'd be a problem. So I made a rule for myself: I would only ever get high with people, never alone. That would keep me using it only at the right times, not all the time. I've broken that rule only once. It was in Tennesse. I broke my arm. Yup, not good to break your own rules. They might as well be your limbs.

So I started using this stuff when it was offered to me, about once a month or so, (I had no idea how to get it myself, for a while) and something interesting started happening. In addition to feeling pretty relaxed and at peace on the stuff, it really made me think. I started to have some great ideas. I started making sense of lots of things I couldn't understand before. Soon, I started writing these ideas down. Soon after that, I started writing lots of ideas down, and picked up a journal to do so with. Soon after that, I started writing poetry. Another thing I loved to do was to go on okcupid high and talk to girls. I suddenly had a lot of things to say!

I decided the "high me" was a lot more likeable and entertaining and fun and funny than the "not high" me, and came up with the idea to use this herb to help defeat my social anxieties. A few months later, I had a lot more access to the drug, and started going out to bars under the influence. And why not? Everyone else is able to use alcohol to let their walls down, why did I always have to be the guy in the corner who just can't seem to just be. (For the record, I was not high when I met Courtney Barnett). I never planned to be reliant on the drug. My theory was, if I can act a certain way high then I can act that way not high too, I just had to figure out how. And that began the process of serious metacognition within me. I started constantly trying to figure things out.

Everything.

Myself, others, interaction, religion, societal structures, poetry, prose, art, love, culture, history, meaning.
Love and self were the two biggest ones for me.
I began to completely lose my interest in video games (they were already on their way out) and other time wasting activities. Getting high and thinking was much better. As I figured things out I was able to move forward. I started running everyday. Things started to make sense. I started doing 100 push-ups a day (which is a lot more than 0 a day). I continued to fail socially and my self-esteem stayed at the low it had always been, but I had hope. I had hope that I could climb out of my depression and oddly restrictive situation by improving myself. This struggle continued through the Spring and Summer until I attended my first music festival, Bella Terra. Check back next week for that pivotal story!
To conclude my thoughts regarding marijuana, I do not attribute all of my current success and happiness to it... But it sure fucking helped!

Musitry:
Music + Poetry = Musitry! Just gotta keep trying fun new stuff! Read this poem while you listen to this and think about the picture too!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oKyhEc8Gf0

"Miracle"

Imagine the city of tomorrow.
Hovering cars, always in motion
Never crashing—never killing
Fly by high.

The city of tomorrow is free of clutter!
Clean. Orderly.
WE all have something to believe in!
The flag isn't found in a puddle anywhere by anyone!
Though the massive towers do block the sunset

We were children of the Earth!
We had everything we needed!
Except we weren't safe from our neighbors
So we grouped up, clutching our civilization as tightly as we could.
And now we get what we wanted.
We are all completely dependent on everyone else.

Who must follow life here?
Who deserves to struggle here?
Will they ever get out to see The Real World?
Will they become what they need to be to deserve to?
Let it come and let it be.

Imagine your city of tomorrow.
What does it look like?
Think about it. Cast your vote.
Just don't forget all the people you gave up on being there
And don't ignore all the miracles you had to ask for either.

Recipe:

In my (mom's) kitchen

With a special guest on the way

We went all out with...

CREAMY MUSHROOM SAFFRON RISOTTO

Ingredients:

Arborio Rice

Onions

Garlic

Variety of Mushrooms

Spinach

Parmesean Cheese

Other Cheese of Choice

Raw Milk

Vegetable Stock

Olive Oil

Butter

Sherry

Saffron

Thyme

Garlic Powder

Smoked Paprika

A little Saffron goes a long way.
I shoulda used more than this though
Probably three times as much for the size of my dish

You have to let the Saffron Threads soak in a liquid for a while to release their true flavor!

I skimmed some of the cream out of the raw milk and put them in that

but just the milk woulda been fine too.

Cut up the Onions, Garlic, and Musrooms
The Onions and Garlic are going to cook down
But we want nice big chunks of mushroom within the risotto

If you want to be fancy you can make a Rue
But if you just cube the cheese that'll be fine and it's the easiest

With all the ingredients out and prepared to cook
Throw in some butter and turn on the oven!

Start with the Onions and Garlic
We don't want to completely cook them now
Just get them started

When the Onions are a bit cooked but still quite firm
Dump in the Onions!
You'll probably need to add more butter as Mushrooms are pretty absorbent

You might freak out thinking
"There's not enough room in the pan!
How can this turn into risotto I used too many vegetables aaaaahhhhh!"
Relax! Don't lose your cool!
They're gonna cook down a bit and everything is gonna be okay.
When the Mushrooms and Onions are becoming browned and seem cooked but still firm
It's time for the rice

Arborio Rice is so much fun to cook with!

We start off by activating the Rice.

You're going to sautée it right in with the veggies!

It'll suck up all the butter though

So pour some Olive Oil right on the Rice when you stir it in.

After just a few minutes
When the Rice has browned a bit
It is thirsty and ready
Start by pouring on the Sherry
Not too much of it! Just about a cup or so.
It'll be sucked up real fast (I didn't even get a picture) so be ready with the Broth
Pour enough in to submerge the Rice

The Rice is still cooking in this
But it is also absorbing the liquid!
Keep the heat up and keep stirring the Rice
Don't let the bottom burn!
Actually, you'll be stirring constantly for the rest of the cooking time
(You can walk away and let it sit for a minute or two without worry)

The Broth will continuously be sucked away by the Rice
Where does it go?
It's kind of amazing actually

We used all the Broth but still needed more liquid!
Risotto always takes more liquid than you think
Remember, we're trying to cook the rice too
So don't pour a cold liquid on.
I heated up some water to keep the Rice submerged.

At some point in this process
Add in the spices!
A nice big dash of Thyme and Garlic Powder

As the Rice cooks and absorbs liquid
The whole dish is going to slowly thicken
But how do you know when it's ready?

Firstly—Try a single grain of Rice
It shouldn't be hard or crunchy at all

Secondly—The consistency should be pretty thick and pastey
You should be able to scoop up a dollop of it
At this point you can actually just eat it
though it'd just be a Mushroom and Garlic Thyme Risotto.
See Picture above.

The Rice being cooked is the key part
We want it to absorb a little more liquid
Specifically the cup of Saffron/Cream and some Raw Milk.
Pour 'em in and watch the Risotto really level up!

Now we've got a Risotto
But we're going all out here!
Dump on the Cheeses
Then mix them in!

Don't forget the Spinach!
At this point the Risotto will be very deliciously thick.
The Cheese, now mixed into the Risotto, will really cook at the bottom of the pan
As you mix the Spinach in, try to get just the right level of browning down there
You don't want to burn any of course
But let it cook down there a bit before scraping it off
To get lots of bits of deliciously browned Risotto floating around

The Spinach cooks quickly and easily.

Mix it in and don't even worry about it.
After that's taken care of it is time for the final taste test.
How'd you do? Taste it really carefully. Breathe it in. Does it need anything?

Put in some salt or spices if you think it does (I taste test the dish throughout the cooking as well).
Mine was all set (;

We did it!

Sprinkle on some of that Smoked Paprika and enjoy!

Pictures:

A few more of Irene's beautiful shots!

How I have come to understand photography is this:

You can look at a picture and see it in any number of different ways.
The more ways you can interpret the picture
the deeper the photo is.

The point is to learn and reflect upon the Photo.
Everybody sees the same photo

But everyone can get a different idea from it too.

My mother made me breakfast! Yessssssss!

Since returning home with my newfound ability to make pleasent sounds generate from the Harmonica

I've been able to jam with my father!

Here's Roger
He's a dog

There are many milkshakes in this household

Our living room
Here's Mom and Uncle Paul!

It was good to see Kara again

MY shot of West lake
One day I'll have a super expensive camera and take awesome shots like Irene.

One of my favorite places
The Weeping Willow Tree here is covered in Poison Ivy now

Another of my favorite places!
Buying local is very important to me

I came here to pick up ingredients for the recipe this week

I'm sure you all know how I feel about bulletin boards

Bishop's Orchards has a number of apple tree orchards where you can pick apples!

Grafitti doesn't have to be flashy to send just the right message

Rice Field

I grew up here until I was ten years old

I know the woods on the right side there like the back of my hand

Though they feel a lot smaller now

Where as in the past I might not have even noticed
Now I understand what those linen are doing there

This is the base of East Rock
A small mountain overlooking New Haven

There are lots of hiking trails.

You can get lost

But the park is surrounded on all sides by development and neighborhoods

So any feeling of wilderness is clearly fabricated

One of the coolest paths ever though
The Giant Steps!

These worn and trecherous stairs are carved right out of the Rock

They steeply wind up the side of the Rock
Zig-zagging all the way to the top

This was my first training ground
When I was old enough my parents took me here to climb them
It was a big deal!

Looking back down at my neighborhood and field was always my favorite part

And seeing the great view of the rest of the area

The City of New Haven
My Home.

In the distance there is West Rock
and nestled by it
the little state school I attended
and learned how to teach.

This is one of the most special places in The World to me

The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument on top of East Rock
They open it once a year on July 4th
I was able to go inside once and that was awesome

This spot used to be a half-mile under ice!
That would be a difficult place to live.

My mom brought me to a little shindig up here

My mother's Jewelry Room.
She makes great accessories!

This Tomato Thyme Risotto was a warm up!

My friends took me out to a movie! Thanks guys!!
And Thanks Matt Damon!

LionHeart was made in Taiwan
Assembled in California
And ordered by me here.
Zane's offers free life-time tune-ups!
LionHeart, at least, is all ready to go.