dirty paws.

I'm amused how few are the times that the titles of these posts and the posts themselves have any sort of connection. Right now, Dirty Paws by of Monsters and Men. It's a delightful song. I suggest it, if you have any sort of respect for my taste in music (And I'd understand if you didn't. Mine is a varied set of tastes.)

Anyhoo. Life has been somewhat interesting of late, despite how I typically answer the social pulp "How is everything? How have you been?" "Why, I have been quite fine, old friend. You know the old phrases, work work work, so little time, yes yes?" Perhaps it's more than that. Yeah, work is just that... It takes up around 40 hours of each of my weeks, and I get a handful of cash in exchange to fuel my car, beat back my loans, and attempt to raise just a bit of hell. (I like to consider all the sweat that I build up whilst running as a physical manifestation of all the sin being expunged from my body. In the shape I'm in, there's plenty, and it seems just about right. Running, she's as cleansing as the summer rain, or the shower that typically follows the act.) It's not much, but it's enough for now. Gets my loans paid, and that's really what's important to me right now.

Of course, I really should be looking into that whole college thing again. I keep telling myself that I'll do it now, during these couple days off, but I keep finding ways to distract myself. It's in these ways that I most fear I'm like my father. Like my mother, I can lower my head and bull through most anything, even if it's just doing the same routine every day. She has her own sort of brilliance, but damned she is for her ability to take what she has and live with it. My father... He means well, I think, most of the time. But when I say that I am a creature of indulgence, ever happy to find and sate those hedonistic urges, I can't quite claim to me half of what he is in that regard. I'm a creature pulled in two directions. Duty and Pleasure, neither side of which I care to fall to. I don't want to be either of these. I respect my mother, but understand well my father. But both are so flawed, so held back by those vices or virtues. Has my mother ever been fully satisfied? Ever fully happy with her life? I know my father hasn't. One doesn't sink so far as he if he finds any sort of true happiness where he is. He goes searching far too far where he knows he has no chance of finding it. I don't want either of those. But I am made of them.

And I can see them both, every time I look into myself. I kinda wonder how that will affect My happiness. I try to do both at the same time, because I've never been the best at focusing, so there is a great chance that I'll never manage to fully think this through. What do I want? And how do I get there?

I can see the faint outline of a trail that leads in the direction of a future I want. But I Really need to focus for once. If you know me, though... I wouldn't make much of a bet on me managing it.


Anyhow! Ho hum. I'm sitting in Erick's new front room, with two of the most important people in my life, watching them both idly. Sam's writing poetry she may not show anyhow, but I'm a son of Bacchus. I'll most likely convince her to share. Erick is dressed well, putting finishing touches on something for his work. I'm not certain what it is, but I'm sure it would be interesting to read... But probably because I'll know he's capable of so much more. I can't imagine that any job ahead of him will ever ask for his full. I'm not certain if I find that terribly sad or if I'm content with it. He's got so much in there, I really hope to see it put to a real challenge to overcome someday. That would be glorious.

Pieces of me. I was just thinking on something like this the other day. I put up a little video on facebook of a recent jaunt into an abandoned building for a photo shoot. Watching it, I found that I could distinguish bits and pieces of my friends in everything I said, in every voice I used, the tone and inflection. Is that strange? I feel like I'm such a combination of people at any given moment. A bit of Mark here, some Lauren there... A shit-ton of Erick, a sprinkling of Sam. Alittle bit of Joe, some Dakoda and Sarah. Flashes of Katelyn, Diana. A hint of Lori. Is it part of my personality to do that? Does everyone do that, or just a few? And what does that say about me?

I like to think it's positive. I keep a bit of everyone with me, and everyone makes up a bit of me. There are worse things to be than a portrait of the people you care about.

This music is beautiful.

Fragile Art.