Overcoat.

It’s never easy to write about real stuff. What’s slightly more bearable is to write about a shadow of what’s really going on. Taking two, three, even ten times more effort to play dress up with the words I want to say. A necktie over a tattered shirt. If only. Rather, it’s an overly ornate overcoat around a naked body. Ready to meet the world.

Morning screams of FUCK YOU translated as dust mites chewing away at a discarded dress.

Good Morning Family

I wake up to an ever so common theme of birds chirping and my mom rustling through the house. Sometimes I awake the typical Fuck You’s that are constantly repeated until the rustling stops or he gets tired of yelling. Most of the time it’s the second one and today is one of those days. As I begrudgingly get up from my unkept bed, my mom greets me as she enters my door-handleless door, opens my window, and tosses some wadded up toilet paper outside.

I head to my straight to computer without putting a shirt on or brushing my teeth and scroll mindlessly through my email and facebook, hoping for something different. Nothing. Same old junk mail and bullshit. “Hmm.. maybe I’ll write a post today”, I say to myself as I try to drown out my mother’s questions. “Anything to escape from the incessant antics of my family.” So I open up WordPress and here I am! Writing away my mornings.

For me, mornings signifies the beginning of an old day with the folks. Same old habits, frustrations, and detachments that I’m so accustomed to. If it wasn’t for the times I leave my house for work or when I go out with friends or by myself,  I would live my life in a perpetual pattern of “home stuff”. The depressing thing is that this is how my mom and dad live. Same old stuff every day.  Week after week,  month after month, year after year. Hmm… I just realized that it was my dad’s birthday 6 days ago. It’s hard to remember these things when every day, whether it’s birthdays, holidays or labor day, all seem the same.

If it wasn’t for the times I leave my house with my parents, they would live a life in a perpetual pattern of “home stuff”. Oh, the irony. The people I’m trying to escape from are the very people that rely on me for their escape.

I’ve written a lot about escapes and I realize that this is not my portion in life. I can choose to live in a blissful ignorance of my surroundings, or live in the reality where suffering and joy can ensue. For me, life is a long and arduous fight between these two options. It’s the red or blue pill, the “two roads diverged in a yellow wood”, “Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied” and the narrow or wide road. This IS what makes all the difference in life!

There’s so much brilliance and wisdom that have come from the pens, mouths, and movie screens of people throughout the entirety of human history. In a world where many of us are herded like sheep to the slaughter, very few people decide to go against the flow of comfort and the crowd. These few are the ones that get embroidered in our history books and hearts. People like MLK, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Neo, and Jesus.

It’s 12:19 PM. The time of mourning is over. Maybe I’ll grab lunch with my mom or clean the house that my dad’s been telling me to do.