Last Great American

I’m listening to the song “Last Great American” by Five for Fighting.  It’s on their first album.  I’m not a big fan of the second one.  To tell the truth, there’s only certain songs on the first one that I like.  This is one of them.  Maybe it’s because it makes me think, what do we do to be great Americans?  Will I be a great American?  Will you?

Although many people don’t recognize it or they deny it; America is dying.  The world is at the verge of change.  The change doesn’t appear to be good either.  So what does it mean to actually be a great American?  I think it means that we inspire.  America has been the inspiration to the world since it’s beginning.  It’s not because of the place, it’s because of the people who inhabit that place.  It’s because of the actions that they take, the choices that they make.  It is the hard work that was completed.  It is the goals that were accomplished.  It is the tears and blood shed upon the fields, the cities, the buildings, and the homes.

The sad thing today is that we may very well face the passing of the Last Great American, and no one would ever know.  In this time we only look to people who can flatter us with talk.  We forget the man of actions and believe only in intentions.  America was not forged with intentions, it was forged with actions.  We shirk our responsibilities and expect others to support us and provide for us, we assume it is our right.  America was not forged through hand-offs, it was forged from hard work and dedication.  America was not created out of the shame, as so many people express of it today.  America was created out of pride, out of confidence, out of strength.  Yes, America is dying.  We, her own citizens are killing her.

Has the Last Great American already passed?  Perhaps we will finally remember America and what it truly stands for, what it truly is.  Perhaps we will remember Compassion, Loyalty, Patriotism, Pride, Confidence, Hard Work, Dedication, and Responsibility.  Perhaps we will, perhaps we will not.  I cry for the Last Great Americans, for those who know, and have had to watch this great nation pass away.  One Nation Under God.  Let these words ring true, for they mean more than what they say.

Book-N-Bean

Written 11-30-09

I am sitting in the Book-N-Bean cafe.  It is attached to the Lead Library at UNLV.  I ordered a white hot chocolate with wip.  Today’s is a little disappointing.  It is not warm.  I prefer to sit at the tall tables.  I feel more comfortable, perhaps it’s because the tall tables are not in the middle of the room, but are along the walls.

All kinds of people com in and out.  There’s always a long line to wait in to order and pay for food and drink.  Today I am reading “A Moveable Feast” by Ernest Hemmingway.  At another tall table is a girl.  I noticed her when I walked in the cafe because of her pale green eyes.  Later a boy joined her and is trying to sit close to her.  He is trying very hard.  I don’t think she minds though because they both want to sleep with each other. They are both trying to hard.  I find it funny.

Everyone else looks to be working on papers or presentations with groups.  It is the end of the semester.  Everyone’s projects and papers are due.

The girl and the guy left together.  He was still trying to hard.  There was an awkward hug, and the boy was left behind.  He watched her walk away.  He circled around like a lost puppy.  He looked at his phone, then in the direction the girl had disappeared.  After a moment he walked the opposite way.

Solemn Peace

Moleskine No. 4 / October 15 09

In my British Literature class we read a couple poems written by Christina Rossetti.  Two of them had to do with death.  One named simply “Song” was about how the husband, or lover, should conduct the funeral – what to do or not to do.  The other, “Remember” what about how her lover should remember her when she died.

My thoughts drifted to a memory of when Ashley and I visited a graveyard.  It was dusk, and the sun was beginning its decent behind the mountains surrounding Las Vegas.  The graveyard had an ethereal feel to it.  We meandered along the rows of the cemetery where the dead lay resting.  We read the inscriptions, dates and names on the varying tombstones.  There where usually verses from the Bible or small poems of remembrance and mourning.  As we continued looking I told Ashley that I wanted a quote on my tombstone, but not just any quote, I want something that I have written to be on there, and that she would choose it.  It will be as if my voice is still there, talking to those who pass by.

It seems to me that many people avoid the subject of death.  Some I think fear it, some long for it, but moss simply don’t know what to think or believe about it and find it easier to just avoid the subject altogether.  I don’t believe death is the end of existence.  I do not understand all that will happen in or after death; no one really can until they’ve experienced it.  Perhaps people fear and avoid death simply because it is human nature to avoid the unknown.

Death though, seems peaceful.  Walking through a graveyard, peace prevails.  It is a solemn peace, but peace nonetheless.  Perhaps the only people that death is not peaceful for are for those that are left behind.

Understanding

Moleskine No. 4 / September 09

In one of his lectures a professor of mine told us, “Don’t open your mouth until you know whats going on!” He then told us that the most important thing that he hoped we would get out of his class would be to 1)Listen, 2)Understand, 3)and then Talk.

Reason is beginning to wane and disperse among our society, replaced by rumor and misconceptions created and enforced by those of “blind faith.”  To many people listen only for that which they want to hear, that suit them and then regurgitate back what they hear, skipping altogether the understanding of it.  Understanding is the key to success and progress.

Writing this, I was sitting in a cafe connected ot he library at UNLV.  Usually I am able to black out or ignore noise in public places in order to read or write, but this time I wasn’t able to.  It was simply too much.  There was a man a couple tables away, talking to a girl (A co-worker I assume.)  He had on a polo shirt indicating her worked for “Clear” the wireless internet company.  His bragging vociferate manner maintained a constant presence above the normal hum of the cafe…

…I’m now sitting on a stone bench, in a nook by some stairs.  A tress’ branches containing green leaves that are spotted with pink flowers hangs over me.

Recently Collected Quotes Part 2

“While the Fates permit, live happily, life speeds on with hurried steps, and with winged days the wheel of the head long year is turned.” – Seneca

“Be life long or short, it’s completeness depends on what it was lived for.” – David Starr Jordon

“A truly great book should be read in youth, again in maturity, and once more in old age, as a fine building should be seen by morning light, at noon, and by moonlight.” – Robertson Davies

You wanna be a writer? Don’t know how or when?  Find a quiet place, and use a humble pen.” – Paul Simon

“Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold.  For if you put on more clothes ans the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you.  So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind.” – Leonardo DaVinci

“Speak Properly, and in as few words as you can, but always plainly; for the end of speech is not ostentation but to be understood.” – William Penn

“The evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it.” – Ayn Rand

“It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare.” – Mark Twain

“L’automne est un deuxieme printeps ou chaque feuille est une fleur. (Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.)” – Albert Camos

“Part of understanding the creative urge is understanding that it’s primal.  Wanting to change the world is not a noble calling, it’s a primal one.” – Hugh Macleod

“Whatever you think, be sure it is what you think; whatever you want, be sure it is what you want; whatever you feel, be sure it is what you feel.” – T.S. Eliot

“The grass is not, if fact, always greener on the other side of the fence.  Fences have nothing to do with it.  The grass is greenest where it is watered.  When crossing over fences, carry water with you and tend the grass wherever you may be.” – Robert Fulghm

“He who reigns within himself and rules his passions, desires and fears is more than a kind.” – John Milton

A Few Recently Collected Quotes

“I had become, with the approach of night, once more aware of loneliness and time – those two companions without whom no journey can yield us anything.” – Lawrence Durrell

“Have Courage for the great sorrows on life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace.” – Victor Hugo

“Hope doesn’t come from calculating whether the good news is winning out over the bad.  It’s simply a choice to take action.” – Anna Lappe

“It is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface ones own personality.  Good prose is like a windowpane.” – George Orwell

“In the end, we decide if we’re remembered for what happened to us or for what we did with it.” – Randy K. Milholand.

“Only the person who has experienced light and darkness, war and peace, rise and fall, only that person has truly experienced life.” – Stefen Zweig

“The chief lesson i have learned in a long life is that the only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him; and the surest way to make him untrustworthy is ot distrust him and show your distrust.” – Henry Stimson

“Observe your enemies, for they first find out your thoughts.” – Antisthenes

“How little a thing can make us happy when we feel that we have earned it.” – Mark Twain

“The key to a women’s heart is an unexpected gift at an unexpected time.” – Finding Forrester

“If someone offers you a gift, and you decline to accept it, the other person still owns the gift.  The same is true of insults and verbal attacks.” – Steve Pavlina

“One does not only wish to be understood when one writes; one wishes just as surely not to be understood.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

“The highest compliment to a leader: other leaders follow.” – John Maxwell

“Who you are is who you attract…if you think the people you attract could be better, then it’s time for you to improve yourself.” – John Maxwell

“You belong to me and all of Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil.” – Ernest Hemingway

“All you have to do is write one true sentence.  Write the truest sentence you know.” – Ernest Hemingway

“We are told that talent creates its own opportunities.  But it sometimes seems that intense desire creates not only its own opportunities, but is’ own talents.” – Eric Hoffer

“Finish each day and be done with it.  You have done what you could.  Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can.  Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with you old nonsense.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The only cure for grief is action.” – George Henery Lews

“We are alone, but it is better to be alone than to keep bad company.” – Luis Sepulveda

“The real meaning of enlightenment is to gaze with undimmed eyes on all darkness.” – Nicos Kazan

“The vitality of thought is in adventure.  Ideas won’t keep.  Something must be done about them.” – Alfred North Whitehead

“There are thoughts which are prayers.  There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees.” – Victor Hugo

The Noble Soul

A new, crisp and holy blank page. Its been quite awhile since I’ve really sat down and typed words simply to type them. I usually hand write. I carry in my bag a small pocket Moleskine. It is there that I normally lay down my thoughts, or minds meanderings. Sometimes though, my Moleskine seems too restrictive. I think that it’s some sort of mind block that I have. I want what I write to be meaningful. Many times I don’t have a subject when I sit and write and I just feel the urge to put words on paper yet when I pull out my small black book I don’t know where to start. I guess it really shouldn’t matter. The subject will come once I begin to write. I know I shouldn’t care if what is initially written is meaningless or not, most raw material is meaningless. The value of the material exists in what it is capable of becoming.

I started my first semester at UNLV a couple weeks ago. It feels odd to me. It feels as if I’m not really here, or like I’ve been here to long. Lately I’ve just felt numb to the world. There hasn’t been a whole lot that I find myself passionate about. One of the only things I am passionate about is Ashley. My beautiful Ashley. I think perhaps I feel guilty for not living up to the full potential that I know I can, and so knowing this, I shy away from anything that might reveal that potential. I guess that I’ve been slacking lately. I must stop. That is not how I wish to conduct my life. I wish to feel alive. I wish to have pride, and to be proud of who I am and the way I live. I wish to recognize the nobility of my own soul. For some reason I have been resisting things that might take effort. Writing for example, my art work and even in my homework. I find it interesting how these type of things happen so gradually and the entire time one knows it’s happening but because it starts in such small increments you become numb to the sensation of guilt involved until those increments aren’t so small.

In the introduction to The Fountainhead Ayn Rand describes certain types of people and how they deal with the pressures of life. She says, “It is not in the nature of man—nor of any living entity—to start out by giving up, by spitting in one’s own face and damning existence; that requires a process of corruption whose rapidity differs from man to man. Some give up at the first touch of pressure; some sell out; some run down by imperceptible degrees and lose their fire, never knowing when or how they lost it. Yet a few hold on and move on, knowing that that fire is not to be betrayed, learning how to give it shape, purpose and reality. It does not matter that only a few in each generation will grasp and achieve the full reality of man’s proper stature—and that the rest will betray it. It is those few that move the world and give life its meaning—and it is those few that I have always sought to address. The rest are no concern of mine; it is not me they will betray: it is their own souls.”

I refuse to be placed in the group that betrays their own souls. I will not give up. I may wander and struggle, hurt and feel pain, but I will move forward, even if it is only by small measures. A man can measure the nobility of his own soul with one simple question; Does he give up and give in to the way the world is around him, or does he live his life as if  the world is how it ought to be, no matter hard it tries to bring him down? The noble soul, the heroic soul (for are they not the same?) do not give up, on the world or on themselves, they live as if the world is how it should be. There is no greater courage.

Flying

I’m flying.  As I look out the tiny window the world below reveals itself in its miniature form.  Mismatched patches of color dot the landscape causing the appearance of a jigsaw puzzle.  I like that thought, the face of earth, God’s jigsaw puzzle.  The mountains I move above fit entirely into my small window.  From here they are  seen as perhaps opposing oppressors or from another visage, majestic rulers of below.  Lakes and areas lacking vegetation are speckled across their vast rises.  As I fly, wisps of thin clouds pass around the wings, undeterred from their destinations and purposes.

Written 7-9-09

The Unending Journey

This past weekend one of my best friends got married.  I’ve known her since I was sixteen years old.  The last couple weeks, due to her wedding and my own impending wedding (June 26th 2010… that right!) I can’t help but contemplate on the institution of marriage, the concept of love, and everything both entail.  I wonder what it is, though, that I, a mere youth of 23, can explain about either.  I know only what I’ve seen and experienced.  The attitude in the majority of people is this; “Marriage! Who needs that?  I want my freedom!”  I question when love and marriage turned into captivity?  I have good friends and coworkers that tell me they are still single or unmarried because they don’t want to be tied down, or have someone tell them how to live their lives.

Those who think in this manner have never experienced love.  What I know is this; Every time I look into my Ashley’s eyes I feel liberated, free and all powerful.  I feel as if I could accomplish anything because of the simple fact that in her magnificent eyes, and with every tender touch and every word, I sense that she loves me and that she believes in me.  I will be able to accomplish anything and overcome insurmountable odds for that simple reason, that she believes in me and loves me.  I pity those who do not, and because of their perverted views of love and marriage, will never have what I do with Ashley.  They will never achieve the success and peace in life that I will.  I salute those that have gone before me and believed in each other enough to overcome the challenges in life together in order that , now, I may do the same.

The Rose

I walk through a hidden field, the crisp green grass crunching underfoot, leaving behind the smell of broken spring.  Light shines through the treetops, leading the way.  A single red rose blooms for me in the center of the field as a single ray of light pierces through the air, igniting the rose into flaming color.  Red radiates through the air, licking the space around where I stand.  The fragrance ignites my veins, fueling the fire that flows within me.  I stand in bliss for the wonderful few seconds that involve me with the nature of the rare red rose that is now in its state of never-ness.  Then slowly, the light moves on, disappearing back through the treetops, shedding a faint green hue over the areas it touches above.  The rose still stands defiant of the peaceful shadows enveloping it, inviting me to love it’s beauty forever.