Remember Me When the Ink Fades

Maybe it’s the writer in me that is always coming up with the scenes in my head that look like scenes from movies I might have seen before, but I don’t think of it as a bad thing. They might come in handy one day when I need a visual image.

One that sticks out the most is the opening scene to a movie about me. You see, life in itself a huge movie that we’re constantly writing the script for someone else to read one day. The writers of the world have the major advantage because we’re actually keeping notes.

My movie opens up like this…

The sky is mostly clear with the presence of several puffy clouds trying desperately to climb higher but to no avail.

On a paved road, in between two fields of freshly plowed land, drives a black, sports-car with the top down. The leather interior is completely untouched by age. The two-seat car has room for the driver, a young man with black hair, sunglasses to hide his deep brown eyes, casually dressed, with a smile on his face as if he’s driving towards a destination he’s been waiting to get to his whole life.

And in the passenger seat is a leather bound notebook. It’s the only companion he’s taken with him that has never left his side and was always willing to hear his side of the story at a moment’s notice.

In front of them, the road is leading straight to a major city. Skyscrapers are few, highways are clearly visible, and it’s free of memories he’d rather leave behind.

The driver reaches to the center of the dash and clicks on the radio and it begins to play “Forever Young” by Rod Stewart. He takes one look over to the book on his right, then to the road in front of him. A grin crosses his face as the camera leaves him and watches the car drive off in the direction of the city.

The song continues to play and the title “As He Once Wrote” appears on the screen.

You can use your imagination as who you could see playing me. I haven’t really gotten that far in my fantasy. Besides, I’m only 24. I’ve not written anything worth while that people would actually remember me for. And even if I had, it would still be one short script.

I’m pretty sure it’s healthy to imaging myself being a great writer one day. I’m sure that even if I don’t make millions of dollars, which writer’s usually never do, I will have gotten the one thing that every writer wants. Immortality. The ability to transcend generation after generation. When the story we tell is just as powerful or as meaningful as the day it was published and read for the very first time.

Even if I write a horrible story, I want to write the most horrible story that was ever written. Why? Because you will still be speaking my name long after I’m gone as the example of how not to write a book. It doesn’t matter if the book was any good, the point is to never be forgotten.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to do all my life. I’ve met people from all over the world and have made friends in all corners of the globe thanks to the Internet. Most of those people know that I write. Whether they think I’m a good or great writer is still up to them but they know that much about me. Perhaps it’s my talent that is asking that I don’t let myself go to waste by not using it to create something that will leave my mark on the world? It’s the essence of every writer to write something great. Great enough that he’ll get his name noticed just once and that would be sufficient for him. But that’s not what I want for me.

I want my writings to make people stop and wonder. Wonder if how they always thought of something is the way they should keep thinking about it after they’ve read the words I’ve written. Where I can challenge the thoughts of millions and reach those would would say, “Archangel wrote ‘(insert future quoted text here)’ and now people stop and wonder if that’s the way things should be.”

THAT’S WHAT I WANT! I said to myself a long time ago that I wasn’t going to do this for the money. While money can buy me the things that I need and the short term wants, it will never fill the void in my soul that needs to be place by the thing that I feel I need to do with this life. My very existence needs to be validated by someone other than those who can physically see me or talk to me. I need the validation from the people who haven’t met me but have read my works. My soul cries out for them to read the words I pen and remember who it was that wrote them.

Money will never buy my destiny.

New Beginning...

...to and old story.

Happy new year to everyone who has patiently waited my return. I hope that everyone's holidays were a blessing and that this new year is prosperous for us all. A new year for me means new material, new dreams, more work on my stories, and, of course, new poems.

I have been saving the energy to write this new poem for afew days now. I didn't get the inspiriation for writing it 'til a couple of days after the new year. After that, I let it linger inside of me and let the story build. When I finally finished it in my head, I realize that it was not really much of a story, but more of a love letter. Two love letters to be exact.

While I'm not known for my love poems, I do have a huge heart big enough to write them. But for anyone who's ever been in love, you know that some poems can be all the same and some can miss the point of love altogether.

Today, I'll give you something that's real on so many levels and you can decide if the love that was meant to be in it, was expressed the right way. It's a story written in two parts and the first starts with a soldier. I'll leave you, my fans, to read the rest.

I must give a thank you to the person who gave me the inspiration. Much like most of my friends and fans, he comes from far away and tells me that I should take my place among the pantheon of writers. I don't know about that, but I do know that I will keep doing what I'm doing even if I'm never recognized. For those of you who frequent my blog and those who are writers yourselves, you know that it better to be discovered from the many by many, than to waste an eternity trying to be recognized. Thanks, Tomas.

With that, I give you... Seven Minutes after Midnight.

"Forgive those you love....

even when they don't love you anymore."

I just learned that mantra today. There are times when I'm meditating that I learn things in my mind that make so much sense that I wonder where in the hell I come up with these things. I guess with all the stuff that I've seen people go through over the last few years of my life and now with the stuff I've had to deal with, the more mantras that can take some of the pain away and make me realize that I still have the whole world ahead of me, the better.

Someone asked me why it was I titled my last blog the way I did. The truth is, that's basically how it all started. Only, it wasn't with a notebook. It was actually just a bunch of sheets of paper that I wasn't using, a computer desk that didn't have a computer, and an old desk lamp. I was about 12 or 13 when I realized I was gonna be a writer. It happened one night while I was watching something on tv. It was really late at night and I got the urge to get up and write something. About five minutes later, I had the beginning of a story that has been morphing til this day. I've changed it so much that I think it will ultimately be the story that I get right. I get the spritit to work on it from time to time, but I haven't done it for a while.

Looking back on that night now, I wonder why it was I got that urge. Never before then had I expressed an interest in writing, however I loved to read. The librarian at my middle school had to kick me out of the library all the time so that he could go home. But if I think further back on it, I started writing in 5th grade, but I never thought anything of it. So I guess the ability was always there, just not the reasoning as to why I was doing it.

I got out of bed to write this blog because I got that urge again. The feeling that my day would not be complete if I didn't get the thoughts out of my head. At the end of the day, I often get that feeling, but I never put it to go use. Maybe if I did, more of the books that I've been planning to finish would be done by now. Call it the traits of a gemini, but that's just me.

There was something important that I wanted to write about tonight now that I'm up. Now that I'm sitting in my chair with the light from my desk lamp and the light from my monitor, I don't really want to write anything anymore. The urge has come and gone. The oject that was on my mind is no longer the focal point and I could probably dream about it and get it over with.

But for those of you who just have to know what it is exactly I'm wondering about, I'll just leave you with this. As time goes on, you realize how stupid mistakes can be and you wonder if they happened for a reason. As I look back at the ones I have made, I think there was a real good reason for them to have happened. I'll ellaborate more tomorrow. I just had to get my thoughts out tonight.

Until next time.