Update (Forever) in Progress

He sat there,

spinning around in a swivel chair,

frustrated by it all.

His laptop was on the smooth oak counter in front of him.

The system update was progressing rather slowly…

- - - 25% complete - - -

He began to explore the Web while waiting,

quickly becoming entangled.

He signed into Facebook to take a look

at the girls who habitually post pictures –

not believing in their beauty until receiving at least 15 likes,
their confidence depending on the comments. 

He scrolled down through the plagiarized quotes,

the list of borrowed song lyrics – copied & pasted.

What’s the point?

To pretend that you have it figured out more than most?

To make people think on the other side of their screens,

“Hey, yes! By God, that’s it! He’s found it!”

The meaning of life in a post.

- - - 50% complete - - -

 How confusing…

He signed out, began perusing through the links,

looking for his calling,

the dream,

the scheme,

the means

in which he would make all of his money.

How about a firefighter?

A liar A lawyer?

Or what about a psychologist?

He began to lose himself in the lists

somebody else had devised for him.

He took a personality test so someone else could tell him.

INFJ, it said.

“Oh, that was easy.

Wait… what does that even mean?”

- - - 75% complete - - -

& the search continues…

He gave up, put his headphones on,

put his head in his hands in defeat.

Next thing, he woke up,

not quite sure how long he’d seemingly been asleep.

He looked up to find that the laptop was off,

the update undoubtedly complete.

His reflection was looking back at him in the now black & empty screen.

They stared at each other for a while, analyzing, smiling.

His grandmother opened up the door, startling them.

He paused the song in his head.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Why, yes, here I am.

I guess I’ve been here all along.”

- - - 1∞%  - - -

Harmonious

If you think about it,

sharing music with someone else

really means a lot.

Whether we're willingly able to admit it or not,

we seek outside advice

about how to best live our lives.

Music is a convenient,

entertaining, communication medium

that allows us to hear the rhythm

other people live their lives to.

As a result we're allowed to reflect,

& consequently edit,

our own flow.

We listen to music the most when we're together

& when we're alone.

We listen to music when we're allowed

to freely sing as shitty as we please,

when we're allowed to dance

as embarrassingly as we deem fit.

We listen to music so we don't have to pretend.

Our favorite tune is our favorite

because it helps us relate,

helps us feel real & genuine.

When somebody else shares their music with you

they're voluntarily and vulnerably revealing

a piece of their personality.

To me, that's the embodiment of friendship.

Such is the Flux

Magazine covers with the beauty queens on ‘em

Always end up in the trash

Trendy fashions transform into fads

Nothing lasts

Yeah, we can’t have the good without the bad

No, we can’t be happy without first being sad

Hide your wounded pride inside

Ride those tides

Don’t forget to smile every once in a while

Even though it always seems

Like we’re rolling smoothly

Right into a rut

But, such is the flux of life

Before you start to worry

Please promise me that you’ll see

The opportunity

In every difficulty

When pressure is pushing you down

Just know it’ll come back around

In the meantime…

Hide your wounded pride inside

Ride those tides

Don’t forget to smile every once in a while

Even though it always seems

Like we’re rolling smoothly

Right into a rut

But, such is the flux of life

Such is the flux of life

Endure the downs

Appreciate the ups

Every peak has two valleys

Endure the downs

Appreciate the ups

Every peak has two valleys

A mind devoted to negativity

Is blind to the ubiquitous beauties of reality

Don’t forget to smile every once in a while

Don’t forget to smile every once in a while

Even though it always seems

Like we’re rolling smoothly

Right into a rut

But everything will be all right

Such is the flux of life

I Love My Mom

I love you more than words can say

But I guess I can try anyway...

I look to you when I'm happy

I listen to you when I'm bitter

You make it even better

& you make it all seem not so bad

I can't help but smile

At all the good times we've had

It hasn't all been good, though...

During those trying times

When sorrow

Overpowered the prospects of tomorrow

I won't lie

I had to borrow some of your courage

You've taught me patience

& endurance

I've become stronger

Through your words of encouragement

Even though I outweigh you now

(practically twofold)

You're still the strongest person I know

I know, I've already said that you're the embodiment of good character

But I have to say it again

Because I will be forever grateful

For I am most fortunate

To have innately adopted

Even a few of your characteristics

No matter what way I look at it

Despite all of my new perspectives

I'll never have to swallow my pride

To say that you're the most important person in my life

Mom, it's an absolute privilege to be your son

Grandma 1 & 2

Even in the arms of her groom

Her eyes rested on the most attractive woman in the room

You see, conformity forced her to be the same

To live up to her name

Society said that success for a woman

Was determined by a ring & children

So she listened

She ignored the innate instinct within

She said “I do,” three times, had two kids

Of course, living a lie

She was never truly satisfied

Used, abused

She was losing herself

One day, she gathered up enough strength to walk away

She knew she couldn’t hide her true self anymore

So she decided to see what she was all about

Came out

& welcomed what the future had in store

Always working so damn hard just to blend in

She went on vacation

That was when they met

A remarkable relationship ensued as a result of that cruise

Her happiness began when she accepted her sexuality

Her happiness began when she met Patsy

* * * * * * *

I was seven when I realized my grandma was a lesbian

That friendly woman who was always with her

Was more than just a friend

Some wanted our bond to end

Wanted to keep me away because they were gay

“He doesn’t need to be in that environment”

“It’ll poison his mind, their life is a sin”

What toxic logic, to discriminate because of a harmless difference

Ironic how religion preaches love, but breeds hate

Thankfully my mom knew better than to let me grow up without them

Grandma Sue taught me to always look within

She’s wise, yet has the personality of a rebel

By watching her I learned how to listen

Her love for others, simply admirable

Patsy showed me the importance of curiosity

I sure discovered a lot on those treasure hunt walks

I called the things we found "clues"

I still do

Her dedication will always be an inspiration to me

There will always be opposition in regard to this predisposition

But, popular opinion is finally catching up with morality

At least in this sense

I mean, it only makes sense

To let people be who they were meant to be

& to let them legally love

whoever they want to be with forever

* * * * * * *

Earlier today, I heard her say

“You’ve always been my Cubman

Now I want you to be my ring bearer”

20 years after their serendipitous beginning

There will be a wedding

They’re still deciding on a date, but I couldn't wait

I had to write about it

Despite all that has tried to convince them otherwise

Their love has thrived

Grandma Sue, Patsy

Grandma 1, Grandma 2

I am so, so proud of you

From Father to Son

I was five when I heard those gunshots

echo across town

It was a hot night, July of ‘96

I was cuddled up with Mom

The bedroom window was open

She was singing me to sleep

It was such a peaceful song

I remember how she flinched

In an instant

I knew

She knew

That a part of both of our lives

was gone

* * * * * * *

Let me tell you a tale

About a guy who died too damn young

I’ve heard he could’ve been a standup comedian

Man, how I’ve lived with his demons…

The man I remember

is a memory I want to forget

That thunderous knock on the door

“Let me in! I just want to see my son!”

The welling tears in her eyes, my mom

Telling me to hide

He was only twenty-five

I don’t remember much

I meet him through their stories

Apparently, he was everyone’s friend

People gravitated toward him

Ironic

that he was the only one

Who brought himself down

Ironic

that he brought others up

But practically put himself in the ground

My dad met his end because of $200 worth of meth

I know the name of the man who shot him

I know they still haven’t caught him

* * * * * * *

I’ve met a lot of the people he was close with

It’s the same thing, every time

They gasp when I walk in the room

Sometimes even begin to cry

Sometimes I cry without even knowing why

It took me awhile to see

I have such a hard time missing him

Because he still walks with me

He still talks to me

My angel tells me to confront my demons

Tells me to be different

This time I'm listening

Shards of What Was

Through the wall he could hear the contained, clangorous sound of his sister vomiting into a pan;

through the window, he could hear his dad’s truck peel out the driveway & on down the cul-de-sac.

She cried herself sick; he left.

The sounds entered through different ears & collided in his brain with such force

that an explosion of frustration overtook him in the form of clenched fists & teeth.

The remnants of the blast was evident in his emerald eyes

as he sat in the chair at his desk, alone.

He wanted to move away from it all,

but he knew that wouldn’t help anything.

No, nothing can help when help is not wanted.

“Is she okay?” he asked his mother.

“She’ll be all right. Did he leave?”

“What does it matter? The damage has been done.”

He was wrong.

* * * * * * *

She tended her frantic daughter, calmed her, then retired to her bed.

She looked at the pictures on the walls of a once-shared room.

* * * * * * *

He returned to his desk, put his head in his hands.

Moments later, another explosion:

this one was outside of his head.

He pushed away from the desk, ran toward his mother,

but he was too late.

Shattered glass covered the beige carpet in a thin layer,

like virgin snow on an unsuspecting desert.

Tears & blood mixed in with the shards.

She was not herself.

Rage poured out in stuttering breaths.

Blood trickled down her arms,

the trails coiling around like a double helix.

The images and memories were woven into her being, her DNA.

She did not want them there.

For a few moments she sat cross-legged atop her own destruction,

head bobbing with the sobbing.

She then took notice of the blood,

took notice of her son standing in the doorway.

The memories had been painfully removed from their frames,

from their glass borders.

Maybe now she will finally let them go.

“Clean this up, I’ll get some band aids,” was all he could utter.

On his way out the house, he shut his sister’s door,

sheltering her from the images of her own home.

* * * * * * *

The ending of an end is just another beginning.