Before I sound desperate and pathetic, I just want you, the reader, to know that I have every intention of articulating this in a secure and terse manner, in hopes that you won't roll yours eyes as much while I mourn over the reality of what I'm about to say.
Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Please, allow me to begin by stating, firstly, that I was in New York just this past week.
And, well, if anything, being surrounded by that many people, that many transient strangers, it made me realize just how...um...lonely I really am...
Haha?
"This beautiful city seems empty; All the people in the world and you can still feel lonely," states Alicia Keys in the beginning of her video for "Doesn't Mean Anything." This sentiment directly speaks to how I felt the night my good friends and I returned from bar-hopping.
The objective that night was to find someone to hook-up with - I'll be honest and because I'm on that level. Well, judging by the way I'm expressing my disappointment, you can probably conclude that it was a failure. I got to thinking, you know, about all the things I've been through in my hometown. I began to remember all the difficulties I've encountered searching for "love" preceding my accident, and just how many more manifested themselves afterward. I've long given up on a chance at anything special in the town of Springfield, solely because I already know there is nothing here for me to begin with (and there never really was).
But being 1100+ miles away from all of that, in the greatest city of them all (and a decent bar with hot boys galore) and still, unable to find one measly guy to make-out with really opened my eyes to just how much I not only have (talent, intellect, family, ambition, dreams), but especially to how much I don't have, nor have ever...
And that, my friends...is love.
Some form of a meaningful relationship.
Genuine affection. The kind you would receive from an actual lover, not someone you really, really like.
Even a fake we-only-dated-for-2-weeks-in-8th-grade-because-everyone-else-was-doing-it kind of relationship.
Something, anything.
I've only done the nasty (and sometimes freak nasty); some of which were my own doing, some of which were not (completely. I have been taken advantage of, mistaking my feelings and his motives for something more. Who has that not happened to?). I've never been in love. I've crushed, like every other human being, and there are infrequent times I believe I came close to it (love): I've had the typical puppy love gone wrong situation, the cold-feet-when-you-asked-me-to-be-your-boyfriend-so-I-said-no predicament, and the mildly (just mildly) annoying and uncertain, fickle I-liked-you-yesterday-but-I-don't-today bullshit.
And that's the problem all its own - I've never really made it past these happenstances. Hell, I've never even been on a date. Just the idea, talking about this thing called "love" makes my stomach physically churn.
Petty. I get it.
Rueful. Yes, I know.
However, I haven't reached complete and total desperation (yet), so you gotta give me some kind of break.
Moving on, I know that I'm barely 21, and I have my whole life ahead of me. But at some point, even you would begin to question: "When is it gonna be my turn?"
I've grown so weary on the prospects of love, that it's actually sort of aided me in examining not only all that I want from life, but just how much easier it'll be to get there without someone holding me back. I'm beginning to view things from a more positive aspect, i.e. "I won't get distracted on my way to the top."
"I won't have someone clouding my every thought when I can be making a game plan. I can focus on me and my future and really follow my dreams and my heart." It's always one or the other.
Needless to say, I've chosen my career. I've relinquished any possibility and said "no" to a love life that was not only so feeble and premature, but to a love life that only resulted in a life changing and traumatizing occurrence (for which I am truly grateful for and would not change for the world). I'm ready to accept the consequences of this decision.
I've never known what it's like to be in love: why lament over something that was never mine? Might as well make this decision now before I ever get a taste, right?
And although I'm not going to lie to you and say I'm entirely happy about my resolution, in all honesty and at the end of the day, my future musical career and aspirations and all the many things I'm gonna accomplish really do mean more to me than some man that knows me from the inside-out, the one that was made for me... Wherever he is...
Sorry...
copyright 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
That's the Way "Love" Goes?
The other night I had someone whom I was conversing with tell me that one of the reasons why he thinks I am "so attractive" is because he prefers feminine guys to masculine guys.
I didn't know how to react. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to respond. I was just silent, my mouth a bit agape, and a bit in disbelief.
I've not once ever heard a guy say this to me in my entire life - NOT ONCE. I didn't know that there were guys out there that are attracted to an effeminate poise (all of which is partially to blame on how small and narrow-minded the community here can be/is.) Generally speaking, it seems like no matter where I go, masculinity is ALWAYS the inclination for other gay men. It appears to me that when regarding relationships, most men worship masculine guys and shun feminine guys, others adore masculinity but are open to femininity, but NEVER do I find guys that are entirely partial to a femme gay. Never do I encounter guys that have a propensity to be exclusively drawn in by someone of my behavioral caliber: someone that "struts," doesn't simply just walk (because that's just the way I move); someone that has a softer air and smile about them; someone that naturally assumes more of a compliant role than a superior one. I never thought I'd meet someone that is enticed by my beta-like tendencies...until that conversation.
I've talked to so many guys in the past two days on plentyoffish.com - I know, that is how sad my "love life" (lack thereof) is, but that is besides the point. There have been an innumerable amount of men on there that have initiated conversation with me on the premise that I am a "man's man" merely by viewing the pictures of me. Mind you, a good amount of my interests are a bit ambiguous and my profile contains a photo of me shirtless, exposing my "harder" side. The side of me that is masculine.
Well, when it boiled down to it, about 99% of those that were interested in my photos wound up simply discontinuing our chat when I revealed to them my feminine disposition. In fact, I've come across a myriad of profiles with the kind of men I'm typically attracted to (masculine and some even with the same interests) disclaiming that they are opposed to relationships with femme homosexuals or that they would not respond to someone that conducts themself like or similar to my own self.
It's a bit oppressive, though I know I shouldn't be surprised nor shocked - that is the mindset to which I am accustomed. But still, I drift into a sort of downtrodden mood almost every time this happens, which I've still yet to understand. And sometimes I feel counteractive towards what it is I stand for - equal opportunity potential lovers - when I gravitate towards a more dominating, less "conventional" gay man (for extreme lack of a better term, for which I apologize).
However, allow me to explain myself: If you haven't read my posts prior to this one, I'll go ahead and say this again. Me, I am so attracted to alpha males. Specifically speaking, those that come off as more masculine-inclined, and those that are masculine in physicality as well. Let me iterate that because of the influence this community has on what is a desirable gay man, also, because I am more effeminate, to balance out the energy, I am instinctively charmed by the masculine types. So when I'm online, that is generally what I seek. BUT LET IT BE KNOWN that just because I consciously and intuitively seek manly men DOES NOT MEAN I disregard a connection I may have with someone that does not hold to that "standard." My penis has a type. My heart does not.
Too many people are looking for love with their genitalia instead of their hearts. It's gross. It is my firm belief that when someone claims, "s/he is not my type," it's synonymous to, "I wouldn't fuck them." I understand that we all have our "things" for certain kinds of people. But when you deny someone a good standing chance at your heart when it is so evident that a real connection is there solely BECAUSE they are "NOT YOUR TYPE," I don't judge, but I definitely do not know what to think. It's a travesty.
I've since conditioned myself to deviate from this attitude, as I was heavy into it at one point. I've learned so many things through a certain two diametrically different guys I've had an interest in, in the past, both of which were "not my type" in the beginning. This goes without saying that once I felt a deeper connection, though I was a bit scared/hesitant and maybe even uncomfortable with the slightest prospects, I opened up. The rest is history.
Lastly, because of the discrimination I am presented with not just in this world alone, but ESPECIALLY in the romantic realm, I've found that though at times it is discouraging to have a smoking hot dude that's feeling you one second, then not the next because you tell him he's not who or what he thinks you are, I won't allow myself to become totally jaded. There is some strand of hope that because I have this kind of outlook on "love," that there just has to be another guy out there with the same, somewhere...
There's someone for everyone, right?
I suppose I shouldn't worry about rejection coming from superficial and feeble-minded boys. When the time and place comes - who knows? I may just stumble across the man that will fall head-over-heels with me despite the fact that my foot will more than likely be in my mouth. I may just find that very man that compliments that of which the community and the rest of the world so shamelessly dismisses.
So remember to ALWAYS stay true to who you are, no matter how difficult it may be at times or how tempted you are to impress someone. Love wouldn't change you for the world, and neither will the person you end up with want to.
Moving forward,
Reki*
copyright 2011
I didn't know how to react. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to respond. I was just silent, my mouth a bit agape, and a bit in disbelief.
I've not once ever heard a guy say this to me in my entire life - NOT ONCE. I didn't know that there were guys out there that are attracted to an effeminate poise (all of which is partially to blame on how small and narrow-minded the community here can be/is.) Generally speaking, it seems like no matter where I go, masculinity is ALWAYS the inclination for other gay men. It appears to me that when regarding relationships, most men worship masculine guys and shun feminine guys, others adore masculinity but are open to femininity, but NEVER do I find guys that are entirely partial to a femme gay. Never do I encounter guys that have a propensity to be exclusively drawn in by someone of my behavioral caliber: someone that "struts," doesn't simply just walk (because that's just the way I move); someone that has a softer air and smile about them; someone that naturally assumes more of a compliant role than a superior one. I never thought I'd meet someone that is enticed by my beta-like tendencies...until that conversation.
I've talked to so many guys in the past two days on plentyoffish.com - I know, that is how sad my "love life" (lack thereof) is, but that is besides the point. There have been an innumerable amount of men on there that have initiated conversation with me on the premise that I am a "man's man" merely by viewing the pictures of me. Mind you, a good amount of my interests are a bit ambiguous and my profile contains a photo of me shirtless, exposing my "harder" side. The side of me that is masculine.
Well, when it boiled down to it, about 99% of those that were interested in my photos wound up simply discontinuing our chat when I revealed to them my feminine disposition. In fact, I've come across a myriad of profiles with the kind of men I'm typically attracted to (masculine and some even with the same interests) disclaiming that they are opposed to relationships with femme homosexuals or that they would not respond to someone that conducts themself like or similar to my own self.
It's a bit oppressive, though I know I shouldn't be surprised nor shocked - that is the mindset to which I am accustomed. But still, I drift into a sort of downtrodden mood almost every time this happens, which I've still yet to understand. And sometimes I feel counteractive towards what it is I stand for - equal opportunity potential lovers - when I gravitate towards a more dominating, less "conventional" gay man (for extreme lack of a better term, for which I apologize).
However, allow me to explain myself: If you haven't read my posts prior to this one, I'll go ahead and say this again. Me, I am so attracted to alpha males. Specifically speaking, those that come off as more masculine-inclined, and those that are masculine in physicality as well. Let me iterate that because of the influence this community has on what is a desirable gay man, also, because I am more effeminate, to balance out the energy, I am instinctively charmed by the masculine types. So when I'm online, that is generally what I seek. BUT LET IT BE KNOWN that just because I consciously and intuitively seek manly men DOES NOT MEAN I disregard a connection I may have with someone that does not hold to that "standard." My penis has a type. My heart does not.
Too many people are looking for love with their genitalia instead of their hearts. It's gross. It is my firm belief that when someone claims, "s/he is not my type," it's synonymous to, "I wouldn't fuck them." I understand that we all have our "things" for certain kinds of people. But when you deny someone a good standing chance at your heart when it is so evident that a real connection is there solely BECAUSE they are "NOT YOUR TYPE," I don't judge, but I definitely do not know what to think. It's a travesty.
I've since conditioned myself to deviate from this attitude, as I was heavy into it at one point. I've learned so many things through a certain two diametrically different guys I've had an interest in, in the past, both of which were "not my type" in the beginning. This goes without saying that once I felt a deeper connection, though I was a bit scared/hesitant and maybe even uncomfortable with the slightest prospects, I opened up. The rest is history.
Lastly, because of the discrimination I am presented with not just in this world alone, but ESPECIALLY in the romantic realm, I've found that though at times it is discouraging to have a smoking hot dude that's feeling you one second, then not the next because you tell him he's not who or what he thinks you are, I won't allow myself to become totally jaded. There is some strand of hope that because I have this kind of outlook on "love," that there just has to be another guy out there with the same, somewhere...
There's someone for everyone, right?
I suppose I shouldn't worry about rejection coming from superficial and feeble-minded boys. When the time and place comes - who knows? I may just stumble across the man that will fall head-over-heels with me despite the fact that my foot will more than likely be in my mouth. I may just find that very man that compliments that of which the community and the rest of the world so shamelessly dismisses.
So remember to ALWAYS stay true to who you are, no matter how difficult it may be at times or how tempted you are to impress someone. Love wouldn't change you for the world, and neither will the person you end up with want to.
Moving forward,
Reki*
copyright 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Meaning of Life...
It crept up on me today at work--this epiphany, this utter realization furthering my understanding of the human experience and what it means to live. It's kind of funny, the manner in which I happen upon these profound thoughts, because half the time, I find that I'm either working or focusing my attention on things impertinent to the aforementioned.
To put it succinctly, I've found that life is comprised of four distinguishable and inseparable parts–"keys," as I call them. And I want to share these discoveries with you. So here it is (brace yourself for some DaVinci Code shit, y'all).
Life is about:
1) discovering/finding yourself - there are certain (personality) characteristics, hobbies, talents, health anomalies, etc. that are born unto all of us that we have little or no control over, in a sense that "it's just the way I/we am/are." Ever heard that adage? Well, it is very true and honestly quite obvious to many of us. However, I have observed that placing oneself in settings remote to what one is accustomed to can lead to enlightenment of oneself. Moving out of state to a city you've never visited can direct you to uncovering so many hidden qualities, both good and bad, that you may have never guessed you possessed. Or trying many miscellaneous and new things that are perhaps idiosyncratic to your nature can bring you to reveal that you have unknown talents. Or maybe you just want to throw caution to the wind and by doing so you reveal to yourself that you actually enjoy watching Will Farrell movies (inside joke for you).
For example, I was not aware of how well I write (per the opinions of others) until the age of thirteen.
Either way you look at it, there is an innumerable amount of mystery within ourselves that is just waiting to be unearthed and explored, so long as we keep an open mind. The human potential is infinite. And you find/discover it within yourself.
2) creating/defining yourself - it is so apparent that as we grow older, some or even many of our interests change, as others remain. We "go through phases," another adage I'm willing to bet you've heard as well. And because we metamorphose as people, that which appeals to us evolves proportionately, whether it be tattoos to Abercrombie & Fitch, jazz music to opera, hockey playing to simply watching a game of golf, the revision is impending, and at different times in our lives. We gravitate towards things we relate to on bounteous levels, whether it be personal or impersonal, conscious or sub-conscious. And these things change, just as we do. But this almost goes without saying, that we, or at least I myself, never deviate from the things I/we primarily associate with, because those are the devices that define who I/we am/are: I/we simply create around that very infrastructure.
Allow me to give you a demonstration: in high school, I was all about the clean-cut, shaven, Abercrombie "prep" look. At that given time, it is what was alluring to me. Then I graduated and a couple years later, I've got a platinum blonde mohawk and a number of tattoos I would have never considered getting in my preceding years. As of now, I am so attracted to edge and mystique, rather than conventional ideas and appearances. I was, and still am, CREATING myself, or reinventing, as some would say. HOWEVER, though that part of me is like a revolving door, I always have and always will be a music artist/dancer/writer, despite what I look like or whatever else I may be intrigued by (at the moment). Music, movement, and poetry DEFINE my life and I could not conceive a world without. I build around it, with the resources I am presented. Those very tangible and/or abstract things we've felt a propensity towards since birth prove to be unyielding through the ages (most of the time and for most people, I feel).
Does that make sense? All-in-all, if you're not changing, you're not growing. If you're not growing, you're not creating (essentially, you're not learning a whole lot either). And if you can't create, you probably don't know what it is that defines your existence, you're not sure where to start. And that's OK. Maybe you can refer back to discovering and finding yourself. Everyone's internal clock is different. :)
3) accepting yourself/the you that you knew was there all along - this one seems to be the most over-looked out of the four. And it is the one I've just recently realized, so I agree that it can be a bit obscure. However, it is so paramount, accepting the innermost part of you that you know will never change, because without this piece of the puzzle, the other three cannot operate to their utmost capability. It doesn't matter if you're gay, if you're "the weird kid," the genius, if you're this or you're that. If you cannot fully and completely accept who you are as a person, trekking to attain the meaning of life is almost fruitless. (The labels are not meant to be emphatic, rather, there to make a point.) By embracing yourself, you can then branch off into other areas of your own world and begin uncovering the secrets (and meaning) of life. Trust me. If you haven't read, check out my post prior to this one (entitled "Defiance of Another Kind"). It may make more sense to you after. These four keys all work together so harmoniously. (Oh, and these three keys are in no particular order.)
Lastly, life is about:
4) finding that special person that makes you whole, your better half - in all reality, this isn't demented, even for those of you that do not believe in "love." BUT, it is so crucial to the human experience, that without it, or even just a taste of it, living a life of fulfillment may prove to be disputable (though not always). But then again, I'm not sure I would believe someone if they told me they could go throughout life without a lover/"life-partner" at least once. And our views change--but face it: at the very bottom of it, we all want to love and be loved. I've also arrived to the conclusion that at the culmination of the 3 mentioned keys, this 4th one I'm currently discussing comes more effortlessly and successfully, especially after you are secure in yourself. Most friends of mine that have been in successful relationships for years seem to have known and loved who they are pre-existent to said relationship. And with those very connections, those relationships, you can then embark even further and further into discovering the meaning of (your) life. You can discover things about yourself through your partner. You can create yourself with your partner, etc. But trying to accept yourself while with your partner complicates things. So if you ever plan on finding your soul mate, look to the three keys explained before this one. I hope it helps.
To sum it all up, if you seek (and eventually find) these four keys during your lifetime, then at least by my standards, I'd say you've lived a life of completion. You may argue that life is about only one (whichever it may be), not the other. And although that is only 1/4 of the picture, you're that much closer to painting the masterpiece that is your life. Remember: keep an open mind, and you'll find that life, life is so beautiful. And there is no end to that beauty.
It is through my own life experiences that I have learned what it is about. One of my very good friends told me I'm wise after I shared this with her. And I told her that wisdom, it is an undivided mixture, and sometimes even a combustion of love and loss, of naïveté and knowledge, of innocence and experience. Wisdom is viewing the world as a perfect place, even when you know it is not.
My world has been perfect for three solid years. And here's to many more (Lisa).
*cheers*
Reki*
copyright 2011
To put it succinctly, I've found that life is comprised of four distinguishable and inseparable parts–"keys," as I call them. And I want to share these discoveries with you. So here it is (brace yourself for some DaVinci Code shit, y'all).
Life is about:
1) discovering/finding yourself - there are certain (personality) characteristics, hobbies, talents, health anomalies, etc. that are born unto all of us that we have little or no control over, in a sense that "it's just the way I/we am/are." Ever heard that adage? Well, it is very true and honestly quite obvious to many of us. However, I have observed that placing oneself in settings remote to what one is accustomed to can lead to enlightenment of oneself. Moving out of state to a city you've never visited can direct you to uncovering so many hidden qualities, both good and bad, that you may have never guessed you possessed. Or trying many miscellaneous and new things that are perhaps idiosyncratic to your nature can bring you to reveal that you have unknown talents. Or maybe you just want to throw caution to the wind and by doing so you reveal to yourself that you actually enjoy watching Will Farrell movies (inside joke for you).
For example, I was not aware of how well I write (per the opinions of others) until the age of thirteen.
Either way you look at it, there is an innumerable amount of mystery within ourselves that is just waiting to be unearthed and explored, so long as we keep an open mind. The human potential is infinite. And you find/discover it within yourself.
2) creating/defining yourself - it is so apparent that as we grow older, some or even many of our interests change, as others remain. We "go through phases," another adage I'm willing to bet you've heard as well. And because we metamorphose as people, that which appeals to us evolves proportionately, whether it be tattoos to Abercrombie & Fitch, jazz music to opera, hockey playing to simply watching a game of golf, the revision is impending, and at different times in our lives. We gravitate towards things we relate to on bounteous levels, whether it be personal or impersonal, conscious or sub-conscious. And these things change, just as we do. But this almost goes without saying, that we, or at least I myself, never deviate from the things I/we primarily associate with, because those are the devices that define who I/we am/are: I/we simply create around that very infrastructure.
Allow me to give you a demonstration: in high school, I was all about the clean-cut, shaven, Abercrombie "prep" look. At that given time, it is what was alluring to me. Then I graduated and a couple years later, I've got a platinum blonde mohawk and a number of tattoos I would have never considered getting in my preceding years. As of now, I am so attracted to edge and mystique, rather than conventional ideas and appearances. I was, and still am, CREATING myself, or reinventing, as some would say. HOWEVER, though that part of me is like a revolving door, I always have and always will be a music artist/dancer/writer, despite what I look like or whatever else I may be intrigued by (at the moment). Music, movement, and poetry DEFINE my life and I could not conceive a world without. I build around it, with the resources I am presented. Those very tangible and/or abstract things we've felt a propensity towards since birth prove to be unyielding through the ages (most of the time and for most people, I feel).
Does that make sense? All-in-all, if you're not changing, you're not growing. If you're not growing, you're not creating (essentially, you're not learning a whole lot either). And if you can't create, you probably don't know what it is that defines your existence, you're not sure where to start. And that's OK. Maybe you can refer back to discovering and finding yourself. Everyone's internal clock is different. :)
3) accepting yourself/the you that you knew was there all along - this one seems to be the most over-looked out of the four. And it is the one I've just recently realized, so I agree that it can be a bit obscure. However, it is so paramount, accepting the innermost part of you that you know will never change, because without this piece of the puzzle, the other three cannot operate to their utmost capability. It doesn't matter if you're gay, if you're "the weird kid," the genius, if you're this or you're that. If you cannot fully and completely accept who you are as a person, trekking to attain the meaning of life is almost fruitless. (The labels are not meant to be emphatic, rather, there to make a point.) By embracing yourself, you can then branch off into other areas of your own world and begin uncovering the secrets (and meaning) of life. Trust me. If you haven't read, check out my post prior to this one (entitled "Defiance of Another Kind"). It may make more sense to you after. These four keys all work together so harmoniously. (Oh, and these three keys are in no particular order.)
Lastly, life is about:
4) finding that special person that makes you whole, your better half - in all reality, this isn't demented, even for those of you that do not believe in "love." BUT, it is so crucial to the human experience, that without it, or even just a taste of it, living a life of fulfillment may prove to be disputable (though not always). But then again, I'm not sure I would believe someone if they told me they could go throughout life without a lover/"life-partner" at least once. And our views change--but face it: at the very bottom of it, we all want to love and be loved. I've also arrived to the conclusion that at the culmination of the 3 mentioned keys, this 4th one I'm currently discussing comes more effortlessly and successfully, especially after you are secure in yourself. Most friends of mine that have been in successful relationships for years seem to have known and loved who they are pre-existent to said relationship. And with those very connections, those relationships, you can then embark even further and further into discovering the meaning of (your) life. You can discover things about yourself through your partner. You can create yourself with your partner, etc. But trying to accept yourself while with your partner complicates things. So if you ever plan on finding your soul mate, look to the three keys explained before this one. I hope it helps.
To sum it all up, if you seek (and eventually find) these four keys during your lifetime, then at least by my standards, I'd say you've lived a life of completion. You may argue that life is about only one (whichever it may be), not the other. And although that is only 1/4 of the picture, you're that much closer to painting the masterpiece that is your life. Remember: keep an open mind, and you'll find that life, life is so beautiful. And there is no end to that beauty.
It is through my own life experiences that I have learned what it is about. One of my very good friends told me I'm wise after I shared this with her. And I told her that wisdom, it is an undivided mixture, and sometimes even a combustion of love and loss, of naïveté and knowledge, of innocence and experience. Wisdom is viewing the world as a perfect place, even when you know it is not.
My world has been perfect for three solid years. And here's to many more (Lisa).
*cheers*
Reki*
copyright 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Defiance of Another Kind
Before I speak on the topic at hand, it is CRUCIAL that you, the reader, must first view this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqlY03wp7b4
And more importantly, THIS:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ko2IIvE34WY&feature=related
(You may have to copy and paste it in the address window. Furthermore, without watching these videos, a good amount of this entry may be over your head.)
Now, before I elaborate as to why these videos are so imperative, you must first understand that as a/an (music) artist, these videos capture my essence from every corner. The artistry behind them, ESPECIALLY the second one, I believe, speaks to me entirely, because it is something that I am capable of.
What's a bit humorous about all of this is that I discovered this amazing quartet by accident; and judging from that "accident," I can attest that it was the furthest occurrence from misfortune.
Because within the visuals--but most importantly--and I stress, most importantly within the aesthetics and the choreography, I didn't "find" myself nor "discover" myself, but rather, I accepted myself as a whole.
...finally...
I've long explained to so many people, most often to my mother, that when I do make it big, the one thing that separates me from other male performers more so than my vocals, is my dancing ability. There has always instinctively and naturally been this feminine energy about the way I move through the universe that I know renders me "different." "Unusual." And for those of you that have ever seen me dance, I'm willing to bet that you have no doubts about what I'm saying.
Upon initial viewing of these music videos, I became cognizant of the fact that I see myself in them, in the group. I mirror Oleg, Stas (now replaced by Francesco), Artur, and Kyryll. My performance and stage persona coincides with their own.
Then it really hit me: Is that what I look like when I dance? Because if so, well FUCK. It was the moment when I told myself, "holy shit! The heels, the dancing, the sense of preserved masculinity (because they are not in drag)! That works!" What they are doing is EXACTLY what I am going to do. It solidified the need for the effeminate side of my personality and to seek choreography that not only defies the "norm," but to seek movement that comes so naturally to me, as I've stated.
And to be honest, although I was inspired almost more than ever, I was a tiny bit invidious of them, only because I told myself that I would be the originator of such male choreography that is deemed "the way a girl normally dances," on a worldwide scale. But Kazaky (kah-zah-kee), as they call themselves, beat me to it; and I became obsessed, began avidly promoting them, and decided that I MUST WORK WITH THEM.
Okay, so now that I've explained all of that, I'm going to let you in on my biggest insecurity of them all (more than my weight). And that is:
...my femininity.
I've always perceived myself as "a happy medium" when I interpreted my demeanor to others. I told them my tendencies lay right on the line of masculine and feminine--I possess many traits of both. I'm not one more than I ever am the other. And although that may be half-true, or three-quarters of the way true, there has always been a cinch of it in the back of my mind that I intuited was unauthentic.
I'd take a gander and wager that about more than half of the things I do that are associated with masculinity were force-fed/taught to me at such a tender age by my father, and to the point that they eventually became habitual. It's too late to undo them now (and I have no desire to), being on the cusp of 21 years.
My parents are very "black-&-white" in regards to a man and a woman's role in society, in families, etc. And me, I just never fit the mold.
My 3 older brothers were apt to guide me in "how to be a boy/man," as we were children and became older. It didn't cease till I became old enough to start making decisions with my own mind.
Growing up, it was imbued that gay was/is completely "wrong." BUT, if you just so happened to be, it was without exception that being a masculine gay is better than being a feminine gay.
"Oh. He's gay?"
"Yeah. He is."
"Oh. Well at least he 'acts like a boy'."
You get the picture?
With that being said, in perpetuum, and time and time again, I've attempted to repress my femininity, not only because it connotes "faggot" and "stereotypical," by society and by my family, but because it is also seen as "unattractive" and "undesirable" within the gay community itself, which confounds me to no end.
For those of you in the community, 9 out of 10 of you know exactly what I'm talking about: "Straight-acting" gays that only go for other "straight-acting" gays.
"I'm not into femmes."
"I don't do flamboyant gay guys. I only like masculine gays."
Because I was uncertain of finding acceptance within my own family, more significantly with my father, I felt more assured I'd find acceptance within the community (in which I was DEAD WRONG and in for a rude awakening) before ever really finding the acceptance within myself.
And although it was a mistake, I don't regret it. Although it proved harmful, because I've hid/tried to hide so much of myself for so long, I can't take it back.
And if anything, there is even more division inside the gay community than there is extrinsically. If you're masculine, it's mostly smooth sailing. But if you're not, it becomes more difficult to gain esteem and respect. And sometimes even a partner. I now know how guilty I am for putting the mask on, but so many are just as guilty as I am. There is SO MUCH pressure to be masculine in the community. And it's sad.
Alas, there are many of us that do fit right in-between the two polar opposites NATURALLY. But that's not the point.
My point is that I, Reki*, Eric Arturo Copeland, am not only gay, but I am an effeminate gay too. It's always been so obvious to others, and myself, and my intentions were not only to deny it, but to suppress it as well, because it enraged me when so many pointed it out. I became frustrated when the masculinity I do have was not recognized.
I'm becoming more comfortable with it all, however. It's taking some getting used to, being myself for what and who I truly am with no pretense, but I'm getting there. I'll get there.
As I've told few people: I know I would be more comfortable showcasing the feminine mannerisms I do possess if I indeed looked more masculine--because there is a certain pride and genuine interest I do have in appearing to be male. I want to be muscular and athletic, and I want to be able to grow a beard, because it is the part of me that IS male, biologically (if that makes sense). And because I'm more feminine, I still want to FEEL like a man. I think that's the beauty of being (an effeminate) gay.
Also, because of this subconscious indoctrination, and BECAUSE I AM feminine, I would ideally like to end up with a masculine gay man, solely because I'm "old fashioned," as odd as it sounds. I know I'm trying to preach self-acceptance and self-love, but I can't help the way I'm wired. I know it's contrary to what I've said, but it is what I've gravitated towards when it comes to finding a potential lover (which is why I would attempt to come off as more masculine than I really am). Because I've been told all my life that it is what is desirable, it is what I do indeed believe to be (more) attractive--but more chiefly, is right FOR ME. I'm not discrediting femininity at all or labeling it "unattractive," as the majority of gays do, seeing as to how I am myself. I'm simply stating that for me, it is what I find to be ideal. And everyone is different.
Regardless, whatever "kind" of gay you are, be PROUD. And be CONFIDENT, most vitally.
You are beautiful, no matter who or what tries to say otherwise.
And so am I.
Lastly, I've found that all of this has been so much of a blessing. The fact that I'm unique (and feminine) in more ways than one should be celebrated, never chastened. After all, it is what will propel me into superstardom in the first place.
Why would I want it any other way?
Love yourself and be yourself without reservation,
Reki*
copyright 2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqlY03wp7b4
And more importantly, THIS:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ko2IIvE34WY&feature=related
(You may have to copy and paste it in the address window. Furthermore, without watching these videos, a good amount of this entry may be over your head.)
Now, before I elaborate as to why these videos are so imperative, you must first understand that as a/an (music) artist, these videos capture my essence from every corner. The artistry behind them, ESPECIALLY the second one, I believe, speaks to me entirely, because it is something that I am capable of.
What's a bit humorous about all of this is that I discovered this amazing quartet by accident; and judging from that "accident," I can attest that it was the furthest occurrence from misfortune.
Because within the visuals--but most importantly--and I stress, most importantly within the aesthetics and the choreography, I didn't "find" myself nor "discover" myself, but rather, I accepted myself as a whole.
...finally...
I've long explained to so many people, most often to my mother, that when I do make it big, the one thing that separates me from other male performers more so than my vocals, is my dancing ability. There has always instinctively and naturally been this feminine energy about the way I move through the universe that I know renders me "different." "Unusual." And for those of you that have ever seen me dance, I'm willing to bet that you have no doubts about what I'm saying.
Upon initial viewing of these music videos, I became cognizant of the fact that I see myself in them, in the group. I mirror Oleg, Stas (now replaced by Francesco), Artur, and Kyryll. My performance and stage persona coincides with their own.
Then it really hit me: Is that what I look like when I dance? Because if so, well FUCK. It was the moment when I told myself, "holy shit! The heels, the dancing, the sense of preserved masculinity (because they are not in drag)! That works!" What they are doing is EXACTLY what I am going to do. It solidified the need for the effeminate side of my personality and to seek choreography that not only defies the "norm," but to seek movement that comes so naturally to me, as I've stated.
And to be honest, although I was inspired almost more than ever, I was a tiny bit invidious of them, only because I told myself that I would be the originator of such male choreography that is deemed "the way a girl normally dances," on a worldwide scale. But Kazaky (kah-zah-kee), as they call themselves, beat me to it; and I became obsessed, began avidly promoting them, and decided that I MUST WORK WITH THEM.
Okay, so now that I've explained all of that, I'm going to let you in on my biggest insecurity of them all (more than my weight). And that is:
...my femininity.
I've always perceived myself as "a happy medium" when I interpreted my demeanor to others. I told them my tendencies lay right on the line of masculine and feminine--I possess many traits of both. I'm not one more than I ever am the other. And although that may be half-true, or three-quarters of the way true, there has always been a cinch of it in the back of my mind that I intuited was unauthentic.
I'd take a gander and wager that about more than half of the things I do that are associated with masculinity were force-fed/taught to me at such a tender age by my father, and to the point that they eventually became habitual. It's too late to undo them now (and I have no desire to), being on the cusp of 21 years.
My parents are very "black-&-white" in regards to a man and a woman's role in society, in families, etc. And me, I just never fit the mold.
My 3 older brothers were apt to guide me in "how to be a boy/man," as we were children and became older. It didn't cease till I became old enough to start making decisions with my own mind.
Growing up, it was imbued that gay was/is completely "wrong." BUT, if you just so happened to be, it was without exception that being a masculine gay is better than being a feminine gay.
"Oh. He's gay?"
"Yeah. He is."
"Oh. Well at least he 'acts like a boy'."
You get the picture?
With that being said, in perpetuum, and time and time again, I've attempted to repress my femininity, not only because it connotes "faggot" and "stereotypical," by society and by my family, but because it is also seen as "unattractive" and "undesirable" within the gay community itself, which confounds me to no end.
For those of you in the community, 9 out of 10 of you know exactly what I'm talking about: "Straight-acting" gays that only go for other "straight-acting" gays.
"I'm not into femmes."
"I don't do flamboyant gay guys. I only like masculine gays."
Because I was uncertain of finding acceptance within my own family, more significantly with my father, I felt more assured I'd find acceptance within the community (in which I was DEAD WRONG and in for a rude awakening) before ever really finding the acceptance within myself.
And although it was a mistake, I don't regret it. Although it proved harmful, because I've hid/tried to hide so much of myself for so long, I can't take it back.
And if anything, there is even more division inside the gay community than there is extrinsically. If you're masculine, it's mostly smooth sailing. But if you're not, it becomes more difficult to gain esteem and respect. And sometimes even a partner. I now know how guilty I am for putting the mask on, but so many are just as guilty as I am. There is SO MUCH pressure to be masculine in the community. And it's sad.
Alas, there are many of us that do fit right in-between the two polar opposites NATURALLY. But that's not the point.
My point is that I, Reki*, Eric Arturo Copeland, am not only gay, but I am an effeminate gay too. It's always been so obvious to others, and myself, and my intentions were not only to deny it, but to suppress it as well, because it enraged me when so many pointed it out. I became frustrated when the masculinity I do have was not recognized.
I'm becoming more comfortable with it all, however. It's taking some getting used to, being myself for what and who I truly am with no pretense, but I'm getting there. I'll get there.
As I've told few people: I know I would be more comfortable showcasing the feminine mannerisms I do possess if I indeed looked more masculine--because there is a certain pride and genuine interest I do have in appearing to be male. I want to be muscular and athletic, and I want to be able to grow a beard, because it is the part of me that IS male, biologically (if that makes sense). And because I'm more feminine, I still want to FEEL like a man. I think that's the beauty of being (an effeminate) gay.
Also, because of this subconscious indoctrination, and BECAUSE I AM feminine, I would ideally like to end up with a masculine gay man, solely because I'm "old fashioned," as odd as it sounds. I know I'm trying to preach self-acceptance and self-love, but I can't help the way I'm wired. I know it's contrary to what I've said, but it is what I've gravitated towards when it comes to finding a potential lover (which is why I would attempt to come off as more masculine than I really am). Because I've been told all my life that it is what is desirable, it is what I do indeed believe to be (more) attractive--but more chiefly, is right FOR ME. I'm not discrediting femininity at all or labeling it "unattractive," as the majority of gays do, seeing as to how I am myself. I'm simply stating that for me, it is what I find to be ideal. And everyone is different.
Regardless, whatever "kind" of gay you are, be PROUD. And be CONFIDENT, most vitally.
You are beautiful, no matter who or what tries to say otherwise.
And so am I.
Lastly, I've found that all of this has been so much of a blessing. The fact that I'm unique (and feminine) in more ways than one should be celebrated, never chastened. After all, it is what will propel me into superstardom in the first place.
Why would I want it any other way?
Love yourself and be yourself without reservation,
Reki*
copyright 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Curiosity
Me?
I've never really been in love before
I've only had a little taste
I know I've felt strong feelings upon a time
But those always seem to have gone to waste
I'm not sure where I stand nowadays
From a distance, maybe I'd give it a try
The fear of belonging is crippling, however
It gets harder and harder to find a quality guy
These fantasies, they play in my head
Ideas of how I want it to be
20 going on 21
I realize that not everything is always what it seems
But to hold a hand must be special
To hug and embrace must feel so warm
To kiss a pair of lips must feel like magic
The center of the universe, the eye of a storm
It must be quite distracting
Investing so much into another heart
Losing track of the world around you
Always together and never apart
The butterflies must feel so intense
The tickling must be too much to bear
This feeling of loving another is so foreign though
No matter if my heart is on the sleeve I wear
I watch those around me live it all out
It's satisfaction enough I suppose
To feel love vicariously
Indirectly, impersonally, but still so close
I guess I'm in no rush
"There's all the time in the world," you state
But I keep in mind that life is short
And I still have yet to go on my first date
I conjecture it just may happen
But then again, it also may not
There really is no way to be certain
Perhaps it all is simply of naught
And perhaps it's all one big lie
Perhaps that is the sole truth
But the willingness to find out exactly
Would hypothetically lay between me and an unreferenced "you"
Me?
I'm waiting patiently to fall in love
It's one story I have yet to tell
You must be out there somewhere
This stranger I'll one day know so well
copyright 2011
I've never really been in love before
I've only had a little taste
I know I've felt strong feelings upon a time
But those always seem to have gone to waste
I'm not sure where I stand nowadays
From a distance, maybe I'd give it a try
The fear of belonging is crippling, however
It gets harder and harder to find a quality guy
These fantasies, they play in my head
Ideas of how I want it to be
20 going on 21
I realize that not everything is always what it seems
But to hold a hand must be special
To hug and embrace must feel so warm
To kiss a pair of lips must feel like magic
The center of the universe, the eye of a storm
It must be quite distracting
Investing so much into another heart
Losing track of the world around you
Always together and never apart
The butterflies must feel so intense
The tickling must be too much to bear
This feeling of loving another is so foreign though
No matter if my heart is on the sleeve I wear
I watch those around me live it all out
It's satisfaction enough I suppose
To feel love vicariously
Indirectly, impersonally, but still so close
I guess I'm in no rush
"There's all the time in the world," you state
But I keep in mind that life is short
And I still have yet to go on my first date
I conjecture it just may happen
But then again, it also may not
There really is no way to be certain
Perhaps it all is simply of naught
And perhaps it's all one big lie
Perhaps that is the sole truth
But the willingness to find out exactly
Would hypothetically lay between me and an unreferenced "you"
Me?
I'm waiting patiently to fall in love
It's one story I have yet to tell
You must be out there somewhere
This stranger I'll one day know so well
copyright 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Photoshopped Pictures & Magazines
I can feel the pressure. The pressure to be... Beautiful. To be perfect. To be...
For the past almost three years now, in hindsight, my transmogrification from how I used to view myself to how I view myself NOW is almost inconceivable to me. I look at pictures of me from years prior, and it's as if I'm mourning the loss of something... of someone. Of my old external self.
The struggle is whimsical; it's almost become a habit, all this constant self-deprecating, filled with so much aversion to my own bodily image. But every now and then, I'll have a day where I feel more up to par. More lustrous. More appealing. That tidbit of confidence is short-lived, however, because even then, I'm so hard on myself, still not satisfied.
My outlook on vanity has become skewed, to say the least. I've knowingly fallen victim to the hype, to the machine that we feed, as to what is socially "beautiful." Here I am, counting calories, calculating how much of an intake will not only contribute to weight gain, but shopping around for countless "drinks" that will help me to retain the weight as well; I'm heading back to the gym in a couple of days to begin (again) my weight training. I fawn over magazines of men with rippling muscles, bulging biceps, washboard abs, perfect thighs, diamond calves, etc. There's this sub-conscious part of me inside, dictating, "you have to look like that." And I will stop at nothing.
And then there's my (facial) cosmetic surgery I'm getting this summer. The ultimate step into the world of superficiality. That's where it all begins. That's how deep my insecurities run. And it's flabbergasting to me, because I'm sentient as to what it is I'm doing and to what image I'm perpetuating...but I can't stop it. I can't stop myself. The hunger to be flawless is becoming voracious.
Whenever I'm not at home locked away in the privacy of my room, and I'm actually interacting with people, in my mind (in regards to other men, ESPECIALLY those I aspire to look like), I begin to distinguish physical traits of theirs that I covet. And when I summon up enough courage to look in the mirror, I begin to abhor just how much I don't fit my liking. I ask myself why I don't look like the athletic guys I see or why I can't seem to emulate what I see in Dolce & Gabanna ads or what I see on the cover of Men's Fitness Magazine. Hell, even when I'm with my (guy) friends and we spot another we consensually agree is physically attractive, before I EVER consider myself coming close to having any speck of a chance, I just assume if the guy we're eying is eying us back, it's because of said friend, not me. There's at least one thing about the majority of all my male friends I can find to be somewhat appetent of, as bad as it sounds. Some of them are so pretty and so perfect and have the ideal body and this and that and the other. I keep trying and trying harder and harder everyday to keep up. But it's debilitating.
What happened to me? It seems that even after all this time, still, I have yet to come up with some kind of sound response. It may seem idiotic to some of you, this internalized madness, but at least I have the bravery to openly admit that I am insecure with myself and the way I look.
This pressure, it's burdensome. They say that it takes an amplitude of pressure to make a diamond... but sometimes I wonder if I'm just translating that euphemism incorrectly. Nevertheless, I can feel the pressure. The pressure to be beautiful. The pressure to be...perfect.
I can feel the pressure to be...something I'm not.
copyright 2011
For the past almost three years now, in hindsight, my transmogrification from how I used to view myself to how I view myself NOW is almost inconceivable to me. I look at pictures of me from years prior, and it's as if I'm mourning the loss of something... of someone. Of my old external self.
The struggle is whimsical; it's almost become a habit, all this constant self-deprecating, filled with so much aversion to my own bodily image. But every now and then, I'll have a day where I feel more up to par. More lustrous. More appealing. That tidbit of confidence is short-lived, however, because even then, I'm so hard on myself, still not satisfied.
My outlook on vanity has become skewed, to say the least. I've knowingly fallen victim to the hype, to the machine that we feed, as to what is socially "beautiful." Here I am, counting calories, calculating how much of an intake will not only contribute to weight gain, but shopping around for countless "drinks" that will help me to retain the weight as well; I'm heading back to the gym in a couple of days to begin (again) my weight training. I fawn over magazines of men with rippling muscles, bulging biceps, washboard abs, perfect thighs, diamond calves, etc. There's this sub-conscious part of me inside, dictating, "you have to look like that." And I will stop at nothing.
And then there's my (facial) cosmetic surgery I'm getting this summer. The ultimate step into the world of superficiality. That's where it all begins. That's how deep my insecurities run. And it's flabbergasting to me, because I'm sentient as to what it is I'm doing and to what image I'm perpetuating...but I can't stop it. I can't stop myself. The hunger to be flawless is becoming voracious.
Whenever I'm not at home locked away in the privacy of my room, and I'm actually interacting with people, in my mind (in regards to other men, ESPECIALLY those I aspire to look like), I begin to distinguish physical traits of theirs that I covet. And when I summon up enough courage to look in the mirror, I begin to abhor just how much I don't fit my liking. I ask myself why I don't look like the athletic guys I see or why I can't seem to emulate what I see in Dolce & Gabanna ads or what I see on the cover of Men's Fitness Magazine. Hell, even when I'm with my (guy) friends and we spot another we consensually agree is physically attractive, before I EVER consider myself coming close to having any speck of a chance, I just assume if the guy we're eying is eying us back, it's because of said friend, not me. There's at least one thing about the majority of all my male friends I can find to be somewhat appetent of, as bad as it sounds. Some of them are so pretty and so perfect and have the ideal body and this and that and the other. I keep trying and trying harder and harder everyday to keep up. But it's debilitating.
What happened to me? It seems that even after all this time, still, I have yet to come up with some kind of sound response. It may seem idiotic to some of you, this internalized madness, but at least I have the bravery to openly admit that I am insecure with myself and the way I look.
This pressure, it's burdensome. They say that it takes an amplitude of pressure to make a diamond... but sometimes I wonder if I'm just translating that euphemism incorrectly. Nevertheless, I can feel the pressure. The pressure to be beautiful. The pressure to be...perfect.
I can feel the pressure to be...something I'm not.
copyright 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Untitled
I would make such a good boyfriend. Any guy would be so lucky to have me.
...Too bad I'm the only one that knows this.
...Too bad I'm the only one that knows this.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Diary of a Madman
copyright 2011
Have you ever lived through one of those moments where you felt as if there was/were something(s) so particularly indicative of you that you felt as though you bear a mark, a brand, a scar, a burden? And that no matter which way YOU look at it, it doesn't ever seem to lose significance?
Funny, because I feel like this almost every single day of my life. And I feel it from multiple angles, different sides, various aspects—some of which are so dissimilar to each other, yet, integrate to become this Goliath of insecurity each time I look in the mirror. Those of which I choose to open up to are shocked, among other reactions, to learn all the things I keep underneath the covers and come to observe just how adroit I am at concealing my innermost emotions and issues, all by smiling, be that as it may, most of which I fake to keep worried peers at bay. I've learned throughout the years that a smile doesn't always denote happiness; a smile doesn't typify a damn thing.
I am a master actor, and my charade only refines itself as the years pass. Very few have had a slight glimpse, if not a look, of all the derangement that I keep within the precinct of my mind. There is so much disorientation, confusion, anger, fear, despondency, hate. There is too much for one person to be able to contain and still maintain a decent amount of sanity.
This almost goes without saying: many times I'm almost positive I've lost myself entirely. The inability to distinguish between what I feel, what I can still feel, and what I no longer feel is beginning to metamorphose into something I cannot put into words. It saddens me, because when I look in the mirror, I cannot genuinely claim to "like" what I see on the other side. In fact, as soon as I look, immediately, I begin to specify all of which I not only think but know is so imperfect. I no longer look in the mirror and see someone who is confident, collected, and content. I see a child, so fearful that others will see those same defects.
I miss the old me. So much too. Days I wake I feel like a hollow cast of who I used to be, feigning assurance in myself physically, mentally, and emotionally, for the sake of retaining just an ounce of happiness I used to exhibit before the crumbling of my foundation. Battles I've been fighting for well over 20 years are finally beginning to drain my vitality undividedly; and I'm at a point in life where I don't think I can keep on. I just wanna give up sometimes. And although I have to regularly talk myself down from it, infrequently, I find that the thought of simply ending it all in a heap of blood would be the only alternative. Somehow, I abandon that intimation and judge that it's all worth it in the end. But goddamn it, it hurts so much. It all just hurts so much.
My soul has been wrenched a thousand times over, and when it comes to placing myself in the center of the battleground of "love," I find myself fleeing more times than ever being outgoing. I've come to expect that this new guy I'm talking to will end up dumping me to the side, walking away, and pretending that it never happened. I've come to conjecture that the other guy after him will not only do the same, but will be inundated by all that is my past that he simply cannot look/put me past it. In other words, I cede the possibility I know is there, before I can ever really run into the one that is supposed to love me for who I am, in spite of the lunacy, the massive inferiority complex, in spite of myself... In spite of the mark that I bear.
And that's just it: I don't know if I'll ever be as confident as I used to be, as happy as I used to be, as me as I used to be. I'm not comfortable looking at my own reflection—what makes anyone think I'd be complacent enough to reveal myself to someone else? I suppose only time will tell. But until then, the mark will not wash off. It's there, and whether or not I can really deal with it is something that I've yet to decide. Because let's face it, I can attempt to interpret what it is I mean; but you? You don't understand.
This... This is the diary of a madman...
Have you ever lived through one of those moments where you felt as if there was/were something(s) so particularly indicative of you that you felt as though you bear a mark, a brand, a scar, a burden? And that no matter which way YOU look at it, it doesn't ever seem to lose significance?
Funny, because I feel like this almost every single day of my life. And I feel it from multiple angles, different sides, various aspects—some of which are so dissimilar to each other, yet, integrate to become this Goliath of insecurity each time I look in the mirror. Those of which I choose to open up to are shocked, among other reactions, to learn all the things I keep underneath the covers and come to observe just how adroit I am at concealing my innermost emotions and issues, all by smiling, be that as it may, most of which I fake to keep worried peers at bay. I've learned throughout the years that a smile doesn't always denote happiness; a smile doesn't typify a damn thing.
I am a master actor, and my charade only refines itself as the years pass. Very few have had a slight glimpse, if not a look, of all the derangement that I keep within the precinct of my mind. There is so much disorientation, confusion, anger, fear, despondency, hate. There is too much for one person to be able to contain and still maintain a decent amount of sanity.
This almost goes without saying: many times I'm almost positive I've lost myself entirely. The inability to distinguish between what I feel, what I can still feel, and what I no longer feel is beginning to metamorphose into something I cannot put into words. It saddens me, because when I look in the mirror, I cannot genuinely claim to "like" what I see on the other side. In fact, as soon as I look, immediately, I begin to specify all of which I not only think but know is so imperfect. I no longer look in the mirror and see someone who is confident, collected, and content. I see a child, so fearful that others will see those same defects.
I miss the old me. So much too. Days I wake I feel like a hollow cast of who I used to be, feigning assurance in myself physically, mentally, and emotionally, for the sake of retaining just an ounce of happiness I used to exhibit before the crumbling of my foundation. Battles I've been fighting for well over 20 years are finally beginning to drain my vitality undividedly; and I'm at a point in life where I don't think I can keep on. I just wanna give up sometimes. And although I have to regularly talk myself down from it, infrequently, I find that the thought of simply ending it all in a heap of blood would be the only alternative. Somehow, I abandon that intimation and judge that it's all worth it in the end. But goddamn it, it hurts so much. It all just hurts so much.
My soul has been wrenched a thousand times over, and when it comes to placing myself in the center of the battleground of "love," I find myself fleeing more times than ever being outgoing. I've come to expect that this new guy I'm talking to will end up dumping me to the side, walking away, and pretending that it never happened. I've come to conjecture that the other guy after him will not only do the same, but will be inundated by all that is my past that he simply cannot look/put me past it. In other words, I cede the possibility I know is there, before I can ever really run into the one that is supposed to love me for who I am, in spite of the lunacy, the massive inferiority complex, in spite of myself... In spite of the mark that I bear.
And that's just it: I don't know if I'll ever be as confident as I used to be, as happy as I used to be, as me as I used to be. I'm not comfortable looking at my own reflection—what makes anyone think I'd be complacent enough to reveal myself to someone else? I suppose only time will tell. But until then, the mark will not wash off. It's there, and whether or not I can really deal with it is something that I've yet to decide. Because let's face it, I can attempt to interpret what it is I mean; but you? You don't understand.
This... This is the diary of a madman...
أنت لا تفهم
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The One That Got Away...
I must admit, I am no longer mused by the idea of "what if?" I'm no longer concerned with the prospects, now, of what could be if there were ever an opportunity.
But it's those moments when I catch you, and that little way you look at me, that keep me guessing in the very far nooks of my mind. The way those mesmerizing eyes of yours make direct contact with mine, if just for a split second, that causes me to deduce just what it would be like if, indeed, we were to, for just one night, throw it all out on the table (literally, if you wanted to as well.;) ).
There is still so much more that I could speak about, to you, of course. But the reality of it all is that this? —THIS is the way it is, the way it is MEANT to be. I don't wanna try to change it. What would it even be for??
Maybe I just got caught up in the idea that SOMEONE could, and in fact DOES love me. Perhaps I became spellbound by the promise of what others have always told me, when it came to gambling it all for that one person that can open up parts of you you never imagined existed. I don't really know what it was. But whatever it may have been, it's vanished, been sated. And whether or not you indubitably feel the way those around us claim you feel about me is almost immaterial.
Because there is nothing we can do about it. At all.
"I am in love with what we are, not what we should be. And I am, I am starstruck with every part of this whole story."
copyright 2011
But it's those moments when I catch you, and that little way you look at me, that keep me guessing in the very far nooks of my mind. The way those mesmerizing eyes of yours make direct contact with mine, if just for a split second, that causes me to deduce just what it would be like if, indeed, we were to, for just one night, throw it all out on the table (literally, if you wanted to as well.;) ).
There is still so much more that I could speak about, to you, of course. But the reality of it all is that this? —THIS is the way it is, the way it is MEANT to be. I don't wanna try to change it. What would it even be for??
Maybe I just got caught up in the idea that SOMEONE could, and in fact DOES love me. Perhaps I became spellbound by the promise of what others have always told me, when it came to gambling it all for that one person that can open up parts of you you never imagined existed. I don't really know what it was. But whatever it may have been, it's vanished, been sated. And whether or not you indubitably feel the way those around us claim you feel about me is almost immaterial.
Because there is nothing we can do about it. At all.
"I am in love with what we are, not what we should be. And I am, I am starstruck with every part of this whole story."
copyright 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
It's Just Business
I happened upon a certain memory of mine, Written down on the back of a business card, And immediately became aphonic, Muted, As I stared blankly at it, Reliving that exact same stare, Same moment, That took place well over two years ago, When it all began. So many emotions rushed through me. But at the end of it all, Happiness prevailed. And I smiled, Knowing that I'm still here today. I lived through it. Can tell the story that came from it. Perhaps the most prohibitive tribulation I've ever known Is becoming easier and easier to look back on. In retrospect, That little business card had been sitting there in my wallet For that long. And it serves as a definite and tangible reminder That I was not built to break.
Resilience. Rebirth.
Reki*
copyright 2011
Resilience. Rebirth.
Reki*
copyright 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
This Month (February)
This month, It's always so cold, Bleak, If not foreboding. And I consistently find myself alone, After years of "putting myself out there." Wind and snow. Ice and clouds. My heart remains lukewarm, My body chilled more so than the day before. This month makes me feel as if I am the last living person in the world. Secluded by nothing, Because no one is around, Exists, Even long enough for me to feel somewhat accompanied. Death in '08. Mistakes made in '09. Falling out in '10. A barren heart forever more, It appears, Transforming my being If just for this one month out of an entire year. As if I step outside of my normal self, Overshadow all the reds and pinks With an attitude, A perspective seemingly darker than the color black.
This month, It's always so cold...
copyright 2011
This month, It's always so cold...
copyright 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Photographs
I could say so much about that place. So many wonderful things. But most of all—and I'll stand by this until the day I move back—the best thing about that place and time was you... I look at pictures of you and remember just how intensely connected we were; being that far away from each other makes it that much more noteworthy. It seems to me that nowadays, all I incline to remember are the good memories left behind. It's not that I deny the negative aspects of things but, more or less, like to focus on what it was that brought such an enormous smile to my sullen face.
Even to this day, I still cannot pinpoint why it is that I still talk about you. Hell, I barely even talk TO you. Regardless, upon viewing pictures of you that I've seen more than a dozen times (then and now), analyzing and studying that inimitable face, that smile, and of course, that particular nose of yours, I catch myself smiling back. And although so many queries remain unanswered, I face the fact that I was not what you wanted. It doesn't hurt really but sucks just a bit.
Because you and I, we were something else. Something I've never experienced before. And this new guy—boy, how lucky he is. And if he makes you as happy as it seems, well, then I'm happy for you as well.
It's not so idiosyncratic, what a photo can do, and how almost every time I look at yours, it's almost like traveling back in time. Because although there is not a single picture of us together that exists, for the most part, I was there with you. I know it sounds deranged to some, but it was almost as if I've lived vicariously through you and those pictures. As if I've physically been everywhere you were. I've never felt anything like that before and often ponder if I'll ever again.
I learned a vast amount about myself porque de ti. You've shown me just how deep one's personality can be, in contrast to how the exterior is so accentuated before anything else. So much emphasis is placed on vanity and not nearly enough on internal beauty, though not to state that you are unattractive. It's so obvious that I felt the yen to conjure up some sort of checklist of requirements needing to be met before considering being with me.
You? You just didn't fit any of it, José. You broke all my rules. You weren't my "type." You didn't dress how I would dress. Almost everything about you physically, wasn't something I ever envisioned being attracted to. But then, I come to find all our little similarities, all our common quirks we possess about each other. But most of all, that subtle way you made me laugh. All of that was just so outlandish to me, setting me up for an attraction on such a level I've never encountered. You've taught me to dig deeper. So much deeper, because there's always more than meets the eye.
I let it all down, José. I let ALL of my guard down. You are the very first guy to ever see the side of me that emerged after my mental breakdown. The side of me I vowed I'd never show any man, because it's too much. Sometimes it's still a little too much for me. But you infiltrated my defenses with your keen charm and alluring humor.
Of course, it all came burning down to the ground, all that remains being the ashes blowing in the zephyr, lost forever like "you and me." There are infrequent times I wish I could go back and change it, because you were supposed to be the one. But then I come back down to earth and see that I wouldn't change it for the world. It was all bound to end at some point, because let's be real, all good things must come to an end. We were certainly no exception. But I don't regret it.
Because at one point, I WAS your Eric. Maybe not in my words, but somewhere in the unfathomable depths of my broken heart. I'm not gonna say I was in love by any means. But you somehow made me believe, José.
And I thank you for that.
copyright 2011
Even to this day, I still cannot pinpoint why it is that I still talk about you. Hell, I barely even talk TO you. Regardless, upon viewing pictures of you that I've seen more than a dozen times (then and now), analyzing and studying that inimitable face, that smile, and of course, that particular nose of yours, I catch myself smiling back. And although so many queries remain unanswered, I face the fact that I was not what you wanted. It doesn't hurt really but sucks just a bit.
Because you and I, we were something else. Something I've never experienced before. And this new guy—boy, how lucky he is. And if he makes you as happy as it seems, well, then I'm happy for you as well.
It's not so idiosyncratic, what a photo can do, and how almost every time I look at yours, it's almost like traveling back in time. Because although there is not a single picture of us together that exists, for the most part, I was there with you. I know it sounds deranged to some, but it was almost as if I've lived vicariously through you and those pictures. As if I've physically been everywhere you were. I've never felt anything like that before and often ponder if I'll ever again.
I learned a vast amount about myself porque de ti. You've shown me just how deep one's personality can be, in contrast to how the exterior is so accentuated before anything else. So much emphasis is placed on vanity and not nearly enough on internal beauty, though not to state that you are unattractive. It's so obvious that I felt the yen to conjure up some sort of checklist of requirements needing to be met before considering being with me.
You? You just didn't fit any of it, José. You broke all my rules. You weren't my "type." You didn't dress how I would dress. Almost everything about you physically, wasn't something I ever envisioned being attracted to. But then, I come to find all our little similarities, all our common quirks we possess about each other. But most of all, that subtle way you made me laugh. All of that was just so outlandish to me, setting me up for an attraction on such a level I've never encountered. You've taught me to dig deeper. So much deeper, because there's always more than meets the eye.
I let it all down, José. I let ALL of my guard down. You are the very first guy to ever see the side of me that emerged after my mental breakdown. The side of me I vowed I'd never show any man, because it's too much. Sometimes it's still a little too much for me. But you infiltrated my defenses with your keen charm and alluring humor.
Of course, it all came burning down to the ground, all that remains being the ashes blowing in the zephyr, lost forever like "you and me." There are infrequent times I wish I could go back and change it, because you were supposed to be the one. But then I come back down to earth and see that I wouldn't change it for the world. It was all bound to end at some point, because let's be real, all good things must come to an end. We were certainly no exception. But I don't regret it.
Because at one point, I WAS your Eric. Maybe not in my words, but somewhere in the unfathomable depths of my broken heart. I'm not gonna say I was in love by any means. But you somehow made me believe, José.
And I thank you for that.
copyright 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
I'm Okay Now
I'm writing to let you know That I'm okay now. And that I'm finished being dramatic. And that you really aren't a horrible person. Because people make mistakes; And who am I to hold that against you When I've made a billion of my own? You really were a breath of fresh air, An eye-opener. A ray of sunshine, Color. And though it, We, Were short-lived, A part of you still lives inside of me. And I don't think I mind that one bit, No matter how much of a front I may put on that suggests otherwise. Something in your voice tugged at me. Something about your words was so melodic. Something about your personality thrilled my timid heart, Reviving this deceased belief in a thing called love, That maybe this time, It was my turn. You've taught me more than I credit you for. And that bitter taste is dissolving from my mouth. I would've loved to be yours —"Your Eric." But the gamble we so recklessly took Worked against us. Fate and destiny did not permit for two young hearts To completely intertwine, Immerse, In that unforsaken realm Where everything really is perfect. I don't regret any of it. At all. It was simply my defense, And I'm sorry. I really do miss you, José, And can't wait to be able to see you, Actually be friends. But please don't mistake this as an attempt to rekindle that connection. It's merely my way of letting you know That I'm okay now.
copyright 2011
copyright 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Treats
I stumbled upon A giant orange gummy bear. And if for a slight moment, A split second, I missed it. I missed you, As I held it in my hand, Smelled the aroma, And memories left behind Of a boy once so dear, So close, But now and forever, So far away...
copyright 2011
copyright 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
When Envy Transposes
I don't wanna hold claim that I started a trend over here in Springfield, MO, but it seems as if more and more aspiring musicians have made it known that they wanna make music, ever since I boldly and publicly spoke on it years ago. This is all besides the point however, but ties into what I am about to say.
Okay, so there are a handful of people I either know personally or that I only know of that have been making attempts to break into the music industry. I've noticed that a lot of them come from a family of money (or at least more money than myself); with that being said, they've been able to create actual studio demos, have professional photo shoots done, play a show at this place or that place, etc. And for awhile there, I was beginning to feel a bit of jealousy, to be completely honest, towards these people. Because they were getting noticed before me. And A LOT more recognition, at that.
I used to tell myself that it wasn't fair, because I'm just as talented as them, if not more (I'm not stating I am per se). Regardless, I would pout and ask what about ME?
Then it came to me. Why not ME? —Exactly. ME. I've since learned NOT to worry about those that may be getting a better start than me, because at the end of it all, if I know I'm gonna make it, like I say I do, because I do, than it won't matter the situation.
They can have all the money in the world. Good for them. I don't need that to get noticed. All I have is my talent. My raw talent. No demos, no head shots, no nothing. Just me. I've always been lower-middle class. But you know what? I have enough ambition and BELIEF to fill a whole stadium.
I've conditioned myself to think of it all in a different light. Instead of envying that person for what they have already, I congratulate them and try to be happy for them. And I'm doing a good job thus far. Because I know that soon, I'll get my chance. I'll get the opportunity to show ALL OF YOU just what I'm talking about when I say: "I like to think I'd make Freddie Mercury proud" or "I can do Beyoncé better than Beyoncé can do Beyoncé" (as a joke of course).
Some of it is my fault though, for not putting myself out there as much as them. But still, I think my story will be that much more inspiring, because I am WORKING FOR EVERYTHING. It's all me. I'm not using anyone else's money but my own.
So I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I think I'd much rather get a good head start in Hollywood, CA anyway. I mean honestly, there's nothing here. Why worry?
Reki*
Okay, so there are a handful of people I either know personally or that I only know of that have been making attempts to break into the music industry. I've noticed that a lot of them come from a family of money (or at least more money than myself); with that being said, they've been able to create actual studio demos, have professional photo shoots done, play a show at this place or that place, etc. And for awhile there, I was beginning to feel a bit of jealousy, to be completely honest, towards these people. Because they were getting noticed before me. And A LOT more recognition, at that.
I used to tell myself that it wasn't fair, because I'm just as talented as them, if not more (I'm not stating I am per se). Regardless, I would pout and ask what about ME?
Then it came to me. Why not ME? —Exactly. ME. I've since learned NOT to worry about those that may be getting a better start than me, because at the end of it all, if I know I'm gonna make it, like I say I do, because I do, than it won't matter the situation.
They can have all the money in the world. Good for them. I don't need that to get noticed. All I have is my talent. My raw talent. No demos, no head shots, no nothing. Just me. I've always been lower-middle class. But you know what? I have enough ambition and BELIEF to fill a whole stadium.
I've conditioned myself to think of it all in a different light. Instead of envying that person for what they have already, I congratulate them and try to be happy for them. And I'm doing a good job thus far. Because I know that soon, I'll get my chance. I'll get the opportunity to show ALL OF YOU just what I'm talking about when I say: "I like to think I'd make Freddie Mercury proud" or "I can do Beyoncé better than Beyoncé can do Beyoncé" (as a joke of course).
Some of it is my fault though, for not putting myself out there as much as them. But still, I think my story will be that much more inspiring, because I am WORKING FOR EVERYTHING. It's all me. I'm not using anyone else's money but my own.
So I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I think I'd much rather get a good head start in Hollywood, CA anyway. I mean honestly, there's nothing here. Why worry?
Reki*
Saturday, January 15, 2011
First Thoughts This Morning
Since when are you a poet? This boy, he must have gotten you good, eh?
Hmmm...
Hmmm...
Friday, January 14, 2011
From Songbird to King of the Jungle
I don't know how to go about starting this. So I guess I'll just aimlessly type the thoughts running through my head as of current. Ummm, where to begin is the question, as I seem to be brimming with extraneous emotions, detached from what I'm actually feeling right now at the very moment. I'm sure I'm not even making much sense. But I'll just have to remind myself to bare with me.
I'm moving. Soon. I'm moving back home to Hollywood, Los Angeles, CA. It's so peculiar to me, that place. Because the moment I stepped foot on one of its many densely inhabited sidewalks of passersby and residents, I felt right at home, as if I've lived there all my life. Every night I go to bed and wake up I hear it calling my name, tugging at my heart and soul. Something from within is ignited every time I see the city brightly lit up on my father's 50-some-inch flat-screen TV.
There is something there. Something is waiting for me in Hollywood. I have this extravagant idea of what it is too. It's convoluted, that very subject, as I attempt to explain myself to others and even my therapist, many never really seem to "get" me. I bet to most, I just sound delusional. But I know I'm not. I just know.
I used to tell everyone around me that I can FEEL it in the pit of my stomach that I, Reki*, am going to make it as an internationally known, mega-superstar musician extraordinaire. But somewhere along the lines, somewhere in-between all the internal chaos that is me, I found that I don't just feel it any longer...I KNOW it. This intuition, I suppose you could name it, transformed into factual knowledge. It's perplexing and even more difficult to try and iterate. I have so much reason to believe that I've believed this dream of mine into reality; and the more and more I work for it, towards it, believe in it, the closer and closer I reel it into my grasp. It's only a matter of time before all falls into place. It's as if I've read a history book, absorbed the information, and can recite it from heart. As if history itself has already been written, somewhere in the stars.
But of course, it has yet to happen. It's merely waiting to happen. I know, I know—it's just...hard to comprehend. I don't expect anyone to understand. They don't need to. I need to.
I like to think I have a story worth sharing with the world. A story that can reach out to people I've never seen before in my life, connect with them, bring everyone together, so much closer, through music. Music is the kind of thing that makes me want to live forever. It's the very meaning of my life. I am music. And I want to show you.
I am Reki*. Hear me ROAR.
I'm moving. Soon. I'm moving back home to Hollywood, Los Angeles, CA. It's so peculiar to me, that place. Because the moment I stepped foot on one of its many densely inhabited sidewalks of passersby and residents, I felt right at home, as if I've lived there all my life. Every night I go to bed and wake up I hear it calling my name, tugging at my heart and soul. Something from within is ignited every time I see the city brightly lit up on my father's 50-some-inch flat-screen TV.
There is something there. Something is waiting for me in Hollywood. I have this extravagant idea of what it is too. It's convoluted, that very subject, as I attempt to explain myself to others and even my therapist, many never really seem to "get" me. I bet to most, I just sound delusional. But I know I'm not. I just know.
I used to tell everyone around me that I can FEEL it in the pit of my stomach that I, Reki*, am going to make it as an internationally known, mega-superstar musician extraordinaire. But somewhere along the lines, somewhere in-between all the internal chaos that is me, I found that I don't just feel it any longer...I KNOW it. This intuition, I suppose you could name it, transformed into factual knowledge. It's perplexing and even more difficult to try and iterate. I have so much reason to believe that I've believed this dream of mine into reality; and the more and more I work for it, towards it, believe in it, the closer and closer I reel it into my grasp. It's only a matter of time before all falls into place. It's as if I've read a history book, absorbed the information, and can recite it from heart. As if history itself has already been written, somewhere in the stars.
But of course, it has yet to happen. It's merely waiting to happen. I know, I know—it's just...hard to comprehend. I don't expect anyone to understand. They don't need to. I need to.
I like to think I have a story worth sharing with the world. A story that can reach out to people I've never seen before in my life, connect with them, bring everyone together, so much closer, through music. Music is the kind of thing that makes me want to live forever. It's the very meaning of my life. I am music. And I want to show you.
I am Reki*. Hear me ROAR.
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