When did it become so difficult to do the simplest of things?
Remember being a child? I know, for some of us it must be the most daunting of tasks to do so. For others, myself included, I think I never really grew up. Meaning, I’m not sure I know what it means to be an adult.
Let me rephrase that. As the years ticked by I realized at some point how far behind I am in the things that could be most beneficial to, well, me. As an adult I realize how much I didn’t prepare myself for the boogy man. The boogy man being that of the retched word, “responsibility.”
The scariest of thoughts are conjured up when I try to define my understanding of the sense of the word while pitting it up against my perceived notion of the norms of society’s understanding of such an ideal!
I know, what a cluster fuck of thoughts in a round about carnival of chaos.
And there you have it folks, Brandun!
Now that the awkward introductions are ceremoniously out of the way, let me give you some context.
I am a liar
A thief
A visionary full of dreams
Empathetic optimist
Adamant on fulfilling his greedful needs
A fighter of love
Troubled by the pain of inner demonic things
Eccentric miscreant
Inadequately responsible
Yet to my Extraordinary life
I introspectively cling
Full of angst and fear
Yet grateful for every ounce of air I breathe
Apologetic to none
For this is me
A lover of life and every one of her sweet delicacies.
Oh, and before I forget, I just found out today what I am an expert of.
Nothing!
December 30, 2020 I was released from the Washington State Department of Corrections. I served just under 3.5 years of a 5 year sentence. A story I’ll save for another time. A story which my Ego believes to be the best damn story. One which is forever understated and unable to be told without it’s greatest of glories.
My ego. A problematic love child birthed from the womb of my self inflated idea that I can change the axis in which the earth spins.
My ego. A wounded child of a man who only wants do his part to help the world spin on the axis in which best serves the whole.
My ego.
While in prison I found out about the power of words. I mean the true power of words. The therapeutic aspect of words. The cleansing feeling they can provide the moment you take the thoughts of words and jot them down on paper.
For fucks sake, I learned the power of Journaling.
Now all I want to do is share some of my damn thoughts. Why? Probably because my ego says so. Probably because I’m grateful for the way journaling gave me understanding. Probably because I want to be apart of something. Or simply, because I am learning the value of vulnerability.
I am an ex-con. A drug addict. A father. A son. A friend. A recovering human being!
I don’t know the first thing about writing shit. I don’t know the first thing about publishing shit. Hell, I don’t know the first thing about structure and the discipline it takes to do any of the things needed to generate a following. What I do know is that vulnerability is how I repay society for all that I have taken from it. Vulnerability is how I begin to bridge the gap of separation.
I guess more importantly, vulnerability with myself is how I gain the confidence to begin the process of forgiving myself. What better way to understand the power of such a formula then to learn how to be vulnerable with myself on a platform that others can bare witness?
How else to I become vulnerable? I learn to humble myself and ask for help!
So, again I ask… When did it become so damn difficult to do the simplest of things?
I had so much fun when it was just a pen, piece of paper, and my thoughts. Now in order to try and present these thoughts of mine, it seems I have to become a damn computer programer. I have to learn how to write code and understand a language which is alien to me. I generally turn to my children (9 and 12 years old) for answers to the most rudimentary of technical questions. I spend hours and days watching tutorials on how to give my thoughts to the world. Between YouTube, Skillshare, Reddit, FaceBook, etc. I get lost in a sporadic, round-a-bout, spiral of a hamster wheel from hell.
There are too many Apps. Too much excess of saturated nonsense. Too much talking, but not enough understanding. Noise! Too much noise!
But then again, I now realize this is just my projection of things. This is the reflection I see in myself. This is me trying to do things my way and not truly wanting to understand how to better myself.
But my ego won’t allow for me to ask for help. I mean to really ask for help!
So here it is my fellow authors, scholars, degenerates, and humans. Here is my formal attempt at asking for…
HELP!!!
