Masks

"Nobody cared who I was until I put on the mask."
-- Bane, Dark Knight Rises

I got to thinking about this quote from The Dark Knight Rises. It was spoken by the now infamous super villain, Bane. The extremely powerful masked man who is hell bent on the destruction of Gotham City and Batman, also known as playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. If you aren't familiar with the story of Batman you're in luck, you don't have to be to get the main point of this post. Read Batman 101 if you want to know more about the story of Batman, if not simply read on.

Batman 101:
Basically for all of you non-batman fans out there all you need to know is that after losing his parents to a violent crime in the alley of a theater, young Bruce Wayne grows up without a mother and father, still very rich but he would trade it all for just their love again. As an adult he joins an organization called the League of Shadows where he learns under the tutelage of Ras Al Ghul (pronounced Ray-sh Al Ghoul). When asked to execute a man to prove his loyalty to Ras, Bruce refuses, turns against the League and narrowly escapes with his life. He goes on to become Batman, our favorite dark and scary caped crusader. With the help of fancy gadgets, his trusty butler, Alfred Pennyworth, and friends like Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman in the movies), he dedicates his life to fighting crime ensuring that what happened to him as a child never happens to anyone else.

So I got to thinking about this quote and it's connotations to real life. Until we become something other than just ordinary, nobody cares who you are. I'll use a good example and a bad example:

Good:
You somehow come up with a cure for cancer in your basement and suddenly you're a savior, a God, you've been blessed from on high with a gift and you're using it to help people. Who is this person? Where did he come from? How did he grow up? They'll run television shows about your life, about your family, about your hardships and struggles. Articles will be written about you and your name will forever be immortalized in stone. But is that you? In a sense you had to become something more than what you were to get people to even notice that you share the same space as them.

Bad:
You've had it with evil mega banks taking advantage of you. They're threatening to take your house so you decide to get even. You burn the house that you're about to lose to foreclosure down but you don't stop there. You're an arsonist and go burning every house owned by that bank just to spite them. Naturally you get caught and arrested and you're now facing a massive jail sentence. But just like the person who cured cancer suddenly everybody wants to know your name, who you are, what you did, what caused you to become a serial arsonist? Was there something in your past that made you go bad? Bad parenting, surely they must be monsters etc. Again, you've become something far removed from what you were and suddenly people notice...

Now this blog in no way is encouraging anyone to become a serial arsonist for attention, or go out and do something awful to get recognized... if you're going to cure cancer, do that please... but anyway, it seems that like Bane and Batman, nobody cared who they were until they put on their masks and became the figures they were. Batman represents the light (or darkness sometimes he walks a fine line) and Bane represents the darkness...

Why is it that nobody cares who you are until you're front and center? Does our society have it backwards? What could we learn from each other if this wasn't the case? Who's story is out there that you may need to hear but can't because this person isn't something other than what they are?

Happy New Year (Yeah I'm late, what of it...)

So I'm late. Yes...

I hope this year has started off well for you all. I'm just working on getting back into the swing of things with this blog. I plan on posting some new and exciting things in the coming weeks, I'll try to keep this thing fresh and new for you all so be sure to check back periodically!

Just remember, no matter what happens this year, don't allow yourself to slip into complacency. Keep working hard, the world needs the gifts you're sitting on!

J.R.

3, 2, 1. 1, 2, 3... What the Heck is bothering me?!

This is bothering me so much I had to blog about it.

I normally don't do this. I normally don't whine and complain about some arbitrary first world problem that others wouldn't even consider a problem. Yes I know there are starving kids in Africa, that over in North Korea they worship their leaders and have no voice. Yes I know there are people in Syria right now fighting just to not be blown up by their own crappy government. I know there are problems more significant than this, and when I reveal what's bothering me you may laugh. I'm prepared for that outcome...

Ok, so what the heck is bothering me? This... this is not only what's bothering me, it's literally killing me... (See pic below...)

Cubicles of death. Why do we do this to ourselves?

Ok, so I work full time, pretty slick gig, low stress pretty awesome work environment even better pay. That's all good, no problem there. I'm making more money than I ever have in my entire life and my coworkers are awesome. So you may ask, what the heck is your problem? You've hit the big time, you should be living it up, relishing in your success, enjoying the fruits of all those college late nighters. I've made it...

The trouble is whenever I walk in to this place (Which shall remain nameless) I want to vomit. Not because I hate the company or the work, not because my boss is a jerk (He's not in the least, he's an awesome boss and just all around great guy). I just literally can't bring myself to work full time and enjoy it. The only way I can describe it is a feeling of a very slow and painful death sitting at my desk. I literally feel my creativity leaving me. All of my motivation going out the window, sometimes I feel like I just want to end it all. Like sitting there 8 hours a day is literally killing me. And each day I wake up it's the same overwhelming feeling of dread. Sundays are by far the worst because I know that I'll have to sit another 40 hours of my life in this manmade nightmare.

When I am vocal about this here are the typical responses:

1. You're young. You'll get used to is. (Good God, I don't want to get used to this!)

2. Everybody does it. Welcome to being an adult. (I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to respond to this one.)

3. Well, stick it out. Bide your time and move on when you're ready. (I'm pretty sure feeling suicidal  8 hours/day isn't healthy.)

4. Just be glad you have a job. (I'm very glad I have a job, it just makes me miserable)

5. Yeah I felt the same way, but I just realized that it won't be forever and I'm just looking forward to retirement. (Holy crap I have to do this for 40+ years?)

6. Do what you love. (What does that mean?!)

7. At the end of the day it's about your personal happiness (True, but this doesn't pay bills.)

8. Just go for it, pick up and move, you're only young once! (I find leaping into nothing painful and foolish.)

9. Hang in there! (Yeah, I'm trying. Thanks!)

10. Are you crazy? (Yes, maybe...)

So what is one to do? I leave that question up to you because I don't have an answer. I can feel my sanity slowly slipping away, and while this may sound very dramatic I can tell you that it's real. I feel like I'm destined for so much more than becoming a 60+ year old man in a cubicle with a size 58 waist. I just sit and think of all the things I could be doing besides sitting there, sending emails and waiting for the phone to ring. I feel like I'm just throwing away the best years of my life, when I should be out exploring, learning and changing the world with my talents, what am I doing... sitting. Something has to give. There has to be more in life, and the longer I wait to find this out the worst I feel. 3, 2, 1. 1, 2, 3. What the heck is bothering me...? 

The real world. And what bothers me is that it's like an elephant graveyard. It seems to be a place where ambitious people, once full of hopes and dreams, go to die. Worst of all, I feel it happening to me...

Red

Red

What becomes

Of the color red?

A fiery passion,

No one can contain.

Does it yearn to be

Something it’s not?

A purplish hue

Or a yellowy hot?

Does it desire to be green?

As the wind kissed fields,

In the months of spring?

Or transition,

To an aqua marine.

The teal

Of the ocean’s pristine?

Jet black at night,

Not wanting to be seen.

Or does it simply fade?

Like night into day.

Losing its luster,

Marching endlessly,

Towards dull grey?

Selection from The Satchel of Dreams. Available on Amazon!

J.a. Wine

Switching Gears

Yeah, I'm switching gears here.  Why?  Because I can, it's my blog.  Stay tuned for original material.

The Male Stereotype Intro

In the universe, there's something called "Dark Energy".  No, this isn't a physics blog, but let me explain.

If you subscribe to the Big Bang (and lets not discuss that here) it says that the energy that initially caused this huge event is driving our universe apart.  In other words, all the "Stuff" in the universe is moving away from our galaxy.  

Physicists blame something called "Dark Energy" for this effect.  We can't see it but it's there and it's having huge effects on our universe.  

Geekdom aside, lets get to the meat of the matter:  We've all heard of, and are aware of the female stereotype in media, but is there a male one in the background having huge effects on our society?  In another post I'll attempt to bring some compelling evidence and links to studies done on this (If there are any that I can find).  

Stay tuned. 

The Narcissistic Poet: Must Every Poem be about your Crappy Love life?

"Poetry is Narcissism."  
-- Loose Quote 


A friend of mine said that, and I'm misquoting a bit but it's pretty close.  When you read most poetry out there do you ever ask... "I wonder what the poet was thinking about when he/she wrote this?"  Consider the selection below.  
__________________________________________________________________

I Love You

I see her in the distance

A place afar off

Her beauty ever present

Her skin so soft

My heart begins to race

With the passage of time

As I behold her grace

And wish she were mine

My lips are sealed

My legs grow weak

Only my mind

Is brave enough to speak

I Love you.

She grows closer

A place so near

She fills my heart

And soul with cheer

She is close now

A place so nigh

I could reach and touch her

Though I dare not try

So I whisper the words

With a weak voice of fear

A sound so low

Nobody could hear

I Love you…

She is past me now

A place far away

My mind goes numb

My heart led astray

She secretly killed me

When she walked away

She secretly killed me

And she didn’t even see

It’s a price I pay

As I stand all alone

For daring to say

Words not condoned.

I Love you…

__________________________________________________________

As embarrassing as it is to admit I wrote that in high school (circa 2001) what was I thinking?  Well I was head over heels in love with this girl (Name concealed to protect the innocent).  I couldn't get her out of my head, I would think about her all day every day.  When she passed by my heart skipped blah blah blah all that love stuff.

She inspired me to write poem after poem, most of which was lost because I didn't care as much about poetry as I do now.  

"Who gives a F*** about your love life?"

-- Loose Quote

Good question...

I'm quoting my friend again but why should the reader care if you're hurt, or if you have an intense love for somebody?  Why should the reader care that you asked your high school crush out and she mercilessly shot you down with a chain gun?

Should others care, and why?  Must every poem be about your crappy love life?