Each man is his own, responsible for his own choices and actions accepting consequence living out his own life. Deep within one’s own body, mind and Soul are his own reasons for pursuing a warrior life. No regrets.
Each man is his own, responsible for his own choices and actions accepting consequence living out his own life. Deep within one’s own body, mind and Soul are his own reasons for pursuing a warrior life. No regrets.
How long must I hold what isn’t mine?
For reasons beyond control, life moves on…too much time without.
Video: The Edge – Love is blindness
On mind, can’t shake her free.
“Well her eyes, they’re rubies and pearls. She ain’t made like those other girls.”
Video: Black Keys – She’s long gone
Remembering, belief. Longing for Jojo.
Video: Eddie Vedder – Longing to belong
Beyond my past, finally peace…only to find you gone.
“What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.’
Slipped by, onward…want again.
…aiming right at you.
Days and nights of the past, today and tomorrow, yet so fast. How could they be?
Words fail to express, how Little Man you’ve made me proud. ”Decide what to be, and go be it.”
After everything I tried, I failed to sleep with her.
Looking over my medical records, she collected hand written notes from our weekly meetings. Wiping aside her dark brunette cut shoulder length hair, she adjusted her glasses, and crossed her arms covered with tattoos hidden under her blouse. The beautiful artwork spread all over her shoulders down her back wrapped around her thin frame.
To read more, click here…The Only Exception.
“She”ll tear a whole in you, one you can’t repair…but I still love her, I don’t even care…. It’s better to feel pain then nothing at all.” Lumineers
On my mind she hangs, carried from within. Onward Jojo moved forward with her own life. Left with nothing but memories and no words exchanged. She’s on my mind, prettier and more gorgeous than ever…she’s on my mind.
Slowly approached in the middle of the night…her footsteps. The very sounds set me ablaze.
Penetrating clicks tapping away at the late night concrete echoing about. The only kind found in a woman taking pride in how she appears. It was her again. Its been too long.
Shadows under a street light she finally appears. Bright smile, sweet scent and soft tanned skin covered ever so lightly in a thin dress split down the back. Every step reveals her legs.
She’s moved on, walking towards or away. Disappearing in mere dreams, left alone, I’m wanting more of her.
Not a day passes by she’s not wanted. With the right response, would she return?
Since Jojo, no other woman captures my attention.
She is on my mind.
This woman simply won’t allow me to break through her resistance. No matter how hard I try, my words have failed. Coming across pathetic, I’m unable to get her attention. If only she took risk.
Damn…I want to ride the bike again with Jojo. Time with her was brief yet simple, not a care in the world… just the wind in our face and roads leading nowhere. We were just alone yet together, how I want the bike and Jojo again.
Harley ride, warm Florida nights, wind in our face, silent smiles.
Blue jeans, black shirt, tanned skin, arms wrapped around pressed close.
Dark skies, stars shine white moon on high, Spectre flies by.
Bright white head light, pine trees rise in the distant.
Panhandle asphalt, parallel ocean flowed deeper into night.
Warrior life no longer a threat, more at ease I became.
Becoming closer wanting our time to be true, we’ve fallen… too far behind.
How else do I say this?
Give me the fucking woman!
She is all I ask for. Nothing else, no other demands. Not just any woman, but that woman. Her. The fucking girl who did it all to me. I’m after who she is, what she means and what she gave me. This woman wounded me nearly compromising my manhood where I beg for more of her. What does a good man have to do to get a good woman? For God’s sake, I’m a man. Patient. Resilient. Focused. Driven. Frustrated left clueless, I’m a fucking man without the fucking woman. Simple as that. Give up the resistance and come to me, life will change for the good forever. She is all I ask for.
1st collector for Linkin Park: When They Come For Me
“Yeah, I’m not a pattern to be followed, the pill I’m on is a tough one to swallow. I’m not a criminal not a role model, not a born leader I’m a tough act to follow. I am not a fortune of fame or the same person telling you to forfeit the game. I came in the ring like a dog on a chain and found out the underbelly is sicker then it seems. And it seems ugly but it can get worse. There’s even a blueprint, it’s a gift and a curse. Once you got a theory of how the thing works, everybody wants the next thing to be just like the first. And I’m not a robot I’m not a monkey I will not dance even if the beat is funky. Opposite of lazy, far from a punk, not the type to quit. Ya all better start talkin try to catch up mother fuckers!” Linkin Park, 2010
At 39, I’m at the half-way point in my life…if I’m lucky. Don’t tell me the best is behind me. There is much I want to do.
Recently I’ve been hit with reality that the youth of my days have passed, evidence in my friends and family. A once vibrant young beautiful West Virginian princess, Little Man’s mother is now heavier in weight, slower yet working harder than ever now witnessing the onset of stress related health problems. It saddens me she is not healthy, I still love her and like many others, I don’t want her to pass before me. I couldn’t stand the experience.
Not loving her in the same way, I just didn’t take time to consider how I would see life change through others. My response is sobering hesitation. It’s obvious, with my head down, I’ve been too distracted. Now, I realize 39 years have passed me by. What do I have to show for it?
What I have is my son. Friends and some family. And, my health. Finally, I have recovered my health again. I have the new business. A source of independence and perhaps a steady income.
Jojo, don’t you understand, I bet everything on you and Little Man? Don’t you know I had a plan? Almost ten years (8 yrs) of my life has been in pursuit of you following that plan. What have those years done to you? Where have you gone? Why the silence? What did I do? What didn’t I do? Starting a new improved life with you was the intent. About to turn 25, where your life has only begun, you were my reason. What we learned about each other on the Harley was enough for me to make a choice to find you again.
From the moment I chose to pursue you, resistance was all I saw, never knowing it would take me this long. My motivation was to meet you and create a new life continuing from where we left off. Not living in the past, just continuing on a path showing you all the things I had learned enjoying something new even special together. The rides on the bike may have been good, what I was about to show you, no ride could have compared.
Where did you go?
Why didn’t you let me share life with you?
You’ve been overcome by my past, now unrecognizable, you’ve forgotten what I have to give.
Just an image of something so much greater, I am not the source of what is bad in this world. Despite what the past may show, it was never me. You try walking that path.
With this second chance in life, I’m going to take it, don’t want to waste it.
Where did you go?
Did you even really love me then?
Knowing you must go, letting you go sets us both free.
Knowing that leaves me alone. Empty. Saddened. Dark. Lost. Hurt. Missing you. Wanting you. Needing you. Silence.
Not looking for a simple woman for companionship. It’s you I want. Without, I will do without.
When did you stop believing I could?
Where did you go?
Still love you now
What I write is for you to read. I write to you, show me a sign.
Bargain by The Who, 1971
Pete Townshend, lead guitarist for the Who, wrote this as an ode to Meher Baba, who was his spiritual guru. Meher Baba was from India, where he worked with the poor and served as spiritual adviser to Mahatma Gandhi. He developed a worldwide following by the ’60s, and died in 1969 at age 75.
No disrespect to Gandhi, Meher Baba or spirituality, in fact, I’ve experienced the theme of “Bargain.” Losing everything materially, to recover taking a new form. No longer living as a warrior, reluctantly even painfully walking away from the community tore at me. This song fits right with my experiences. Much from choices I made though were beyond my control. Meaning, I couldn’t sit in place and take hit after repeated hit. A choice had to be made, some were not made wisely. One of the choices was to get Jojo. It’s the way I handled that choice. Losing her when I lost everything led to new-found rage and conflict within me that knew no right from wrong. No matter how bad situations became, Jojo’s memories pushed me through the worst where I endured. That choice to leave her was only meant to find her and Little Man again. To win them, meant I had to first find myself. Unfortunately, yet fortunately, I had to lose everything I owned. Do it all over again, giving up everything for just one chance with her and Little Man, you are damn right I would. Their relationships mean that much to me. That experience and the risks are my bargain.
Just take a moment listen to the words to see what I mean. It’s all about a woman.
“I’ve got to lose me to find you. To catch you, I gotta run and never stop.”
“I’d pay any price to get you…I call that a bargain, the best I ever had”
That important, that impressive.
On the horizons I see her, on I move.
If my voice does not break through…I will raise the voices of the world.
Beauty is the quality present in a thing or person giving intense pleasure or deep satisfaction to the mind, whether arising from sensory manifestations (as shape, color, sound, etc.), a meaningful design or pattern. Beauty’s definition can apply to art or most associated with a woman even life. What is beautiful to one person is not to the other.
The sweet smell of her perfume. Her neckline leading to her shoulders, her profile or the way she carries herself. Her femininity. Her eyes, their color, shape. How she cares for the details watching her carefully address her eye lashes and brows. How she takes forever to apply her make up every morning. The way she bends her hands at her wrist. When she admires her own jewelry, a purse, hat or the most favorite to women of all ages, their shoes. Her laughter when it may not have been funny. Her love of gossip, the taste of a dessert, skinny jeans and short shorts to surprise flowers making her friends jealous. Two hour hair cuts. Failure to understand or her love of sports. How she loves romantic films, a love story, song or dramatic TV even plays at the local theater. Wearing glasses from time to time. to her spring dress and how her long legs look amazing every time.
Her character and the rare things that upset her. How success motivate her efforts. School work, house work, on the job, in the yard even rubbing elbows with the best. Her love of Ford Mustangs and motorcycles. How she dresses for our rides on the Harley. Her courage for learning how to ride the Harley and her radiating spirit of freedom. Steadfast strength in times of adversity, yet her vulnerability. Love of family and adoration of friends. Her ankles and painted toes. The color and vitality of her skin. What she hides to later be discovered unexpectedly. The ring I want on her finger. Long phone calls, texts, blood-red painted finger nails, lipstick and a glass of wine. Her secret love and obsession for chocolate. How she brushes her hair back over her ears whether to catch my attention or to see what is in front of her. How she holds a baby on her hip just right yet manages life all around her. Despite a million responsibilities, she still manages to paint the walls in renovation of the house. Her firmness and strength defending the family.
Her taste of food and amazing ability to make anything you can imagine. Or how she makes the simplest food seem like gourmet. A night on the town, a restaurant, or together at home on the couch. Her ability to speak the language and listen to adolescents and the smallest child to the baby. The mother in her. Loyalty, patience and endurance. Her tears when she silently wants to cry. The lover in her and making love as good as the first time. Her patience, intelligence and strength. Her encouragement when the chips are down. How she smiles with energy. Her humor. Silence with her eyes closed leading me home. The feeling of her slightest breath against my skin. Her beauty.
When alone I feel nothing. With Jojo, I feel life all around me.
With Jojo I felt the greatest, she brought the best in me.
Jojo felt like taking life by the horns and going for the ride of my life.
Riding for hours at a time with her holding on is like no other. Being 14 years older and going nowhere good, steering the Softail Deuce in and out of traffic or down some backwoods path leading back to the shoreline, I was the one in control.
She was too young for me or herself.
Didn’t she want me to?
Memories at night have the speedometer highlighted in orange with the needle pushing past seventy.
As Jojo held me tight, with feet floating in the air on the foot-pegs, the “V” twin-engine hummed like a fine oiled machine between my legs. Within the piercing bright white headlight, the world would approach as we made our way to no where in particular. With asphalt passing beneath our feet, we were just with each other. All night long into the early morning, riding. The past is not what I want. Not even the same motorcycle. What I want is for the light in her not to burn out.
Tell me she will respond wanting me again.
It’s been eight years since I last saw her. A year and half since we last exchanged emails. Every month an email or two, even a letter sent, never receiving a response. Refusing to quit, efforts at communicating are tireless where only hope she will respond. Faith, one of these days she will change her mind saying how well she is doing and how she will try once again.
After all this time, not a day has passed without a thought about her. She’s in thoughts when I lay to sleep throughout my dreams and when I first wake. Everywhere, her images carried through the worst of times and best of moments. She’s not a fleeting thought. The opposite. Jojo has become seared within the mind leaving a deep image guiding this course.
Needing to find her again. Everyday, simply want to hear her voice, see her eyes even receive a response telling me she hasn’t forgotten
This personal journey has been long even exhausting. Repeatedly questioned myself. At the end of the day, no matter how much time has passed, what people say or how much resistance is faced…the drive remains. She’s that important. She means that much.
This 2003 100th Anniversary Edition Harley Davidson Softail Deuce did it all. The very source of peace and so much conflict afterwards. My bike shared with Jojo for over nine months and 4,500 miles of riding together.
Day, night, morning or afternoon, in the surprise rain showers to blazing sun. By the Gulf Coast ocean front, to Sea Side, from Pensacola to Panama City and Destin, so many days and hours we shared on this bike. From the last ride I shared with Jojo, I sold this bike and never rode a motorcycle again. Call it grieving, call it what you want. Without this bike, Jojo and I never would have learned about each other the way we did.
What is one supposed to do? Found her smiling, eager to spend more time with you. Everyday riding your motorcycle, nine months together swiftly passes by. You do it wrong. Time and responsibilities force you to leave. She stopped smiling. Was it because you approached her, or because you chose to leave? You won’t know that answer.
Without saying it face to face, you would soon return. At 16, she is too young, messages written in code encouraging her not to quit on you leaves you in limbo. On with her life she goes, yet not once did thoughts of her leave your mind. Still wanting to find her, you move on, plotting the course of a new life to intersect with hers. Obstacles soon force you off course far greater than yourself beyond your control. Sometimes six months at a time, you’re taken away farther from her. No matter what is, failing to navigate close enough showing how serious you’ve become disrupts the efforts. Months go by, years pass by no closer have you become.
Silence. For almost a year her silence is deafening. What motivates is loud and clear, the experiences of her, images play and replay reminding how good her presence is, leaving you to want more. Instantly, naming off a hundred details why you love her. Her eyes, her laughter, tears of joy and sorrow, intelligence, boundless energy, radiating attractiveness…
Memories are all you have…you drive on.
Yet to be married…she pushes you further. No matter how many storms on the horizon…
Still on course.
Even if alone, I move forward.
What would you do?
The ride. When performed right, the ride becomes another level of thought. The true ride is when your motorcycle becomes the well oiled piece of industrial art it was meant to be. While on distant roads far away or near home, your bike reaches a rhythm state or pattern on the road, specifically a back road in the middle of nowhere. Much preferred over interstate or major highways, it’s here where these rides define the meaning of your bike. The experience resembles how relaxed you get near an ocean or perhaps when you play golf. Alone doing what you love. At the whim of the environment no matter what the weather is, one way or another, you find yourself immersed in what nature throws at you.
Something as simple as noise dictates how well your motorcycle ride goes. The wind. In your face, covering your eyes. Without protection, your eyes flood with tears, yet, flowing past your ears, the rush of the noise is only topped by two things. The throaty sound of it’s chrome engine combined with the hacked off split exhaust pipes without baffles. Together, they bark out orders pleading you to find more asphalt. Even the feel of the pavement moving below your feet, leaves a sensation of a steady vibration putting you at ease at one point, on a high the next moment. The smells of the sweet fuels and toxic fumes mixed with the pine forests you breach onto salt water in the air near the beaches you by-pass. It’s your sight capturing the entire ride in the roads in front of you plus catching every detail of trees passing by to your left crossing through your right side, finally those in your mirrors left behind.
Once you get the repeated patterns of traffic down, speed fluctuates with your mood. If you are at peace, you cruise. If you are filled with angst about the days gone by or she never calls, kick your bike into fourth then fifth gear going from seventy into eighty hang on for the ride. Or, simply relax and enjoy a wide open road alone crisscrossing a far off mountain pass or distant desert valley.
It’s here the ride becomes the very reason you chose to climb on the bike that day, or every day for that matter.
Rain showers and slick highways depress you. No matter if at home or work, every day you find yourself daydreaming about the next ride. It all comes down to your very source of peace. Letting the bike do the work while all you do is hold on for what’s next, steering with the chrome handle bars accelerating with your right hand.
With the twist of your grip, the bike opens up as you force more fuel into the pistons speeding the bike up faster. Your searching for that next bend in the road, hunting for the way of new beginnings. The feeling of the experience is what your motorcycle is all about. The rush of power unleashed beneath your feet is like no other. The ONLY thing making your bike better…is the beauty sitting right behind you hanging on you enjoying the same ride.
Together, the bike, the ride and this woman are the simple things in your life. It’s your experience.
“And this land, means less and less to me without you, breathing through it’s trees.”
Mumford & Son’s
To get you meant, only one thing stood between…life.
Failing Little Man, meant we would have failed.
Failure in this life, was, is and will never be an option.
What once a possibility can still be…. Everything else follows simply remains …life.
Prepare to Crossover
Simple, complex and unique. Attractive. Intelligent. Silent, fragile yet strong. Mysterious. Independent.
Touch and feel of softness, the smell of spring. Sight of something new, yearned for when alone.
Warmth when cold, close when afar. Alive day or night, bright when our world is dark.
Gracefully balanced, peace of mind. Without a word, the very sound leading home.
She’s my reason to wake.
Prepare to Cross Over
Growing old without Jojo and Little Man is disturbing. Time doesn’t seem the same and life isn’t the best without them. The sun does not set or rise. What was beautiful before is a passing thought today. What I valued before has little to no meaning. Without them, the day doesn’t arrive new and the night doesn’t come soon enough. Watching how fast these past eight years have passed concerns me. Why do lessons learned have to be so costly? Are all these challenges meant for a purpose where so many losses and failures happen for a reason? I ask these questions because from the very start, when forced to make a choice eight years ago, I chose to pursue a good life with Little Man and Jojo, finally new warrior responsibilities. After all that I failed at, I’ve come to believe that the unhealthy thinking I may have been pursuing the next warrior life. Fact is how I couldn’t have all three. Little Man, Jojo and that life.
Today, I seriously look at life different, but I don’t. To read more, please click this link: Spitting Teeth
I did everything I could to sleep with her.
She looked over the records where her notes collected over time from our weekly meetings. Dark brunette cut shoulder length, glasses, with tattoos hidden under her blouse. The artwork spread all over her shoulders, and down her back wrapped around her thin frame. She was strong-willed with a mind like a steel trap. It was the details she craved. With severe back problems from childhood, she pushed through her hidden pain. Every month she took injections to cut the pain, only once a month would she be forced to rely on a cane. Younger than myself, I could never understand how something so irritating could happen so soon to a woman.
Posted on the walls behind her were diplomas for a Bachelors and Masters degree in social work and medical policy, a Molly Pitcher award for leading military wives at Ft. Bliss, Texas. It wasn’t only how cute she was; some of it was her intelligence, most of it was how she rebelled against the mainstream. She was a pistol, and no one fucked with her. Being the lowest pay grade on the scale, she didn’t have high-profile responsibilities.
To read more, click on this link….The Only Exception.
For her, here is Paramore’s “The only exception.” Enjoy.
I can’t do the talk. I can’t do a love song like the way it was meant to be. I can’t do everything but I’ll do anything for you. All I do is miss you and the way we used to be. All I do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme. (Dire Straits)
Jojo was a good strong woman then, she’s only better now. Only once did I watch her cry. Then a second time. A third time too many. The first was not because of me. The others were. I just don’t understand why. Was it when I approached her? Did I do it wrong or was I wrong? Where did I fuck it all up? We didn’t have an argument or yell at each other. It was time pulling us apart from each other. To the point we didn’t say a word.
This is the way I understand things. Just tell me I’m not off in my own mind creating this sense of drive for each other. I felt it. I felt all of it and more and wanted more of it.
On the final night I spent all night writing my last words to Jojo. I left her behind a message telling her not to give up on me. What I couldn’t say to her face, I was forced to write in that letter. It was everything I simply couldn’t say. Telling her that no matter how long it takes to not once ever quit. As I wrote that note, I saw that approaching storm on the damned horizon. I was fucked from the beginning. No matter what happened, I wanted her to know that I had to leave. When I did, when the timing was better, I would find her again. What I could not tell her was how I had to first end the failed marriage I had with her good friend. Little Man’s mother. At no time did Jojo ask me to do anything like that. It was me. All me. At the time of that note, I made my choice to find Jojo again. The pursuit just wasn’t the right time.
The pursuit for Jojo continued through emails after emails month after month. It appeared after each email, I only got worse. Then it became a year, and another year. Jail, hospital after another, six months here, a few there. Before I knew it six, seven and now eight years have passed me by. My son grew older, so did Jojo and myself. However we all grew years apart. The two most important things in my life could not be brought together with me.
After experiencing Jojo the way I did, I wanted to give the same thing back to her. I wanted and still want to share things with her where life is mutual. Where we both give and take from each other without saying a word.
To love is defiance. Go against the grain, opposite of the world around you. Call it being stuck or too focused, I don’t care. It is what it is. She’s on my mind everyday all day. These thoughts are motivating one moment, down right upsetting the next. Meaning I find myself wanting to talk to her again sharing with her the good things in life. Next, I’m realizing how far removed we are from each other, there appears no chance we will reconnect. Regardless, I choose to take this path. It is my decision to want to have feelings for Jojo. More than once I’ve tried to give up, naturally within myself is something that refuses to quit.
Knowing she is not married yet is nothing less than inspiring. There is a chance. A chance for anything in this world. Why so many people have gone off and pursued things in this world that were impossible to others. I knew from the beginning it would be next to impossible to retrieve a new relationship with Jojo. The odds were stacked against me. Had I chosen to stay with her, she would have witnessed me as a married man try to start a life with her. Later, in the worst of times with Jojo, she would have seen me as less of a man lacking loyalty. The effort would have failed.
Tell me not to want her. Tell me to go away, to return to my home and start a new life. I will tell you in return to piss off and take the high road. My intent was to recover remnants of a past life with a purpose to recover my son and build a better life with someone new. Someone who earned my trust and respect. Someone, at the end of the day, I simply fell for.
Had I…ah, the past doesn’t matter much. Only for the lessons learned will the past matter. That’s exactly what I’m trying to convey, is how if I had done anything different, I would have compromised myself and everything I believed in. Going after my son first is, was and will always be the right thing. Had I not done that, I would not be here typing. Instead, I would be dust dissolved in some far off waters or found crumbling in mud within some hidden dump. If a pistol to the temple or dextromethrophane to the kidney did not take me, the great man above would have found a way.
All I can relate her to is … beauty. Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. When you experience Jojo, you will certainly feel the same way. You want to be a part of her and share something with her. She is dynamic, alive and a giving woman who carries herself with confidence. Being so attractive, she’s confidently able to walk everywhere with her head held high.
This woman is that impressive…she would endure rides on the bike for over 12 hours. Not complaining or whining wanting to go home or stop. She wanted to live life to the fullest. To the point, I taught her how to ride the Harley on her own. Watching her learn was amusing and fun. She took control of the bike, let out a shriek scream and went with it. On that abandoned runway, she commanded that 600lb bike and took off pushing through the gears where the transmission begged to be shifted higher and higher.
For now, rarely when I look up do I see women who capture my attention and set off the internal fire of attraction. If they are attractive, then they lack personality, even intelligence and humor. Or, too dramatic, whine even judge others.
I don’t know, they simply are not this woman. The woman I”ve chosen to love, respect and pursue.
How is one supposed to get a woman like this out of your mind. It’s impossible to walk away from Jojo. Let it go and move on in your life. You are 14 years older than her, she’s too young. Going after her will take you backwards. That’s what they all say. All I can do is raise my hand and flip the finger.
In time, my search and hunt for Jojo may come to an end. What I must do is take care of myself. Next to Jojo, the bike was that source of peace of mind. Parked to sit alone, the bike is alive no matter day or night. Waiting and ridden full throttle cruising and relaxed. The hum of the engine sets the tone and pattern of the moment. A continuous rhythm felt throughout your entire body. Putting one at ease.
It’s time to find my bike again. Sold eight years ago soon after the last ride with Jojo, I’m now feeling the bike call me. Brilliant black with shiny silver like chrome threaded throughout the bike, once in my possession I’m ready. Until my son grows enough released and moved out on his own, on my motorcycle I take a journey or ride of my own. It’s here that I’m ready and willing to ride across the entire country. The bike leading me back to this woman until one day I return to my final home.
A man pursues his woman of choice until satisfied. Sometimes going through multiple partners, a hunter by trade, a man searches until he captures what he wants. Water, food, shelter and a woman. Not all in that order. He hunts for it all. Everything.
When it comes to a woman, any good man will look for a woman capturing one’s attention. For some it’s any woman. For others, searching for a specific woman. Much like a diamond, he looks for specifics like “cut, color, clarity and Carat weight.” In a woman he searches for standards. Criteria. Values. Lessons learned from the past decide who they will pursue and capture for the future.
Any good man raised well searches for what is most important in a woman. He searches for an attractive woman. That means a clean and healthy woman. Intelligent. Outgoing. Independent. Knows how to cook. Athletic maybe active with a thin to average frame. Humorous. Educated or skilled. Traits of a good mother (For my future children). Most importantly, determine whether she is a good lover. That, of all things is the most private most difficult trait to discover.
The standards are a blue print for what works best for this man. To get it right, he looks for something mutual lasting a lifetime. Ultimately, as with Jojo, the search for her takes so long, she gets better with time. She becomes a diamond in the rough.
My conflict is how Jojo once wanted me, yet now wants nothing to do with me. She introduced herself to me revealing who she is setting inside my mind a deep wish to want her in my life. Wanting to one day start a new life with her growing old together. Jojo met every standard and criteria I had set in my mind for women.
Due to my choices, forced to leave Jojo, I’ve carried hopes one day our paths would intersect again. Making all the right choices, I shouldn’t have saw this refusal of hers to communicate. Somewhere something went wrong, just don’t know where or what. Ever since, my criteria, values and standards haven’t been met yet. Without Jojo in my life, I care about no other woman. From this point on, to the end, I’m ready to never see her again and ride out this life alone.
How does Jojo have this impact on me? Watch this music video listen to lyrics. I want to switch the word “Sail” with “Ride” as if the two of us “riding” the Harley again. Listening to this song, you will see and agree I’m appearing pathetic, trying to get Jojo back to where we once were. All in hopes she will stop running away to turn around and open her eyes. I want her to see I’m in front of her. She refuses to respond. Can’t hang on begging longer, will ride life out alone no longer wanting love. Listen to lyrics…click on link David Gray – Sail Away.
Simple, complex and unique. Attractive. Intelligent. Silent, fragile yet strong. Mysterious. Independent. The smell of spring. Touch and feel of softness. Sight of something new. Yearned for when alone.
Bright when the world is dark. Warmth when cold, close when afar. Reappears in dreams. Dancing, gracefully balanced, peace of mind. Alive day or night. Without a word, the very sound leading home. Enduringly beautiful. She’s the reason I wake.
What is passion? What creates such passion in people? It doesn’t matter whether it be artwork, writing, photography, a woman, a bike, even a sport or warfare, passion is displayed and generated in different ways for different people.
Passion is any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate. Passion is a strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor. Passion is a strong and barely controllable emotion. A state or outburst of such emotion. Passion is also a strong sexual desire; lust. An instance or experience of strong love or a person toward whom one feels strong sexual desire. An intense, driving, or overpowering feeling or emotion; especially : any violent or intense emotion that prevents reflection. Only once found, in Acts 1:3, meaning suffering, referring to the sufferings of our Lord.
Passion is a powerfully intense feeling one gets after experiencing someone or something they are attracted to. Passion is that desire to want it again, to re-experience the event or individual. At times, passion can become blinding impacting one’s thoughts and behaviors. Love and passion are said to be intertwined said to be a chemical response. Passion is perhaps taking love to another level where most would say responses become inappropriate. How does one stop passion? Why would you want to stop passion? How do you control passion? Isn’t that the purpose or intent, to release passion and hold on for the ride?
How do you find passion? Ask yourself the following questions. What puts a smile on your face? What do you find easy? What sparks your creativity? What do you enjoy doing for free? What do you like to talk about? What makes you unafraid of failure? What would you regret not having tried? http://www.ineedmotivation.com/blog/2008/04/7-questions-to-finding-your-true-passion/
What if you are simply drawn to someone or something or you see something no one else does? Why is it that artists see their passion when they are making or creating, but no one understands their passion until after the artist dies passing away? The artist usually saw their passion the moment they put pen to paper, painted a picture, created a movie even wrote a song. Passion is what drove that person. Passion made that person wake in the morning inspiring them throughout their days leading them to sleep throughout their dreams to once again wake restarting the cycle all over again.
People should be grateful for passion. Passion has brought much good to this world. Passion is how we analyze the world, a snap picture of the intensity of something powerfully beautiful that continues to give back radiating some sort of attraction. You just can’t take your eyes off of it, stop listening, tasting, touching even smelling it.
Passion makes one view life differently. Perhaps that is where I go wrong. How I view life. After nearly losing my life many times, I’ve come to take a view that you must live each day as if it is your last. Not take things for granted. I know what is beauty or beautiful. Yes, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Beauty is different to different people. When I come upon something of beauty, I believe I look at the full picture when I analyze art, people, events, motorcycles and food. I look at what it took to create that one thing. What kind of adversity did it go through, how simple is it, how useful, what does it give back or generate, how does it impact our world and make it better? That is how I analyze something passionate. It is my definition of what is beautiful in this world.
I could define many things beautiful that you won’t consider the same. We come from different places and have experienced different people, places and things. We’ve made different choices and were raised in different ways. We are all different. That is what makes art or things of beauty so valuable. They hold value to different people, but mostly, they leave a mark on our lives and the world we live in positively impacting all of us whether we like them or not.
I may be wrong, but I believe you must use each day as if it is your last. All for fear you may never have another day again. Yes, take care of what you have, but, use it. I’m the reason things are ruggedized. I drop, kick, slip and fall with things losing them or breaking what I use. It’s because I go a hundred miles an hour from one place or thing to the next. I’m trying to get the most out of my life. It started the moment I watched my good friend pass away at eight years old. His passing put the fear of God into me. He never had opportunities to experience all the things I did. Now, I look at my days as a vehicle taking me to wherever I want to go to see who I want to see, experience what I want go where I want to go and do what I want to do. I set goals and work tirelessly towards them not quitting until I achieve. Sometimes people say I become unreasonable going too far discarding what is most important or not accepting that things just aren’t meant to be. I don’t believe that. I believe when you set your mind to something, the pursuit will lead you to your goals, objectives even dreams. I’m after the pursuit. The journey. More than once I’ve felt the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment after overcoming adversity to reach a goal many times I thought was impossible. The experience becomes addicting.
I’m not certain if that addiction came after I nearly lost my life, or, I was born this way. I don’t care, it is who I am and how I operate. At the end of the day, I want only the best things in life. I have high standards in taste and set high standards and expectations in what I use, do and behave. I’m not the best. Perhaps that’s why I have such high standards, because I’m not the best. I want the best maybe knowing I’m lacking somewhere only compensating in the end. Again, I don’t care. I just go with it, let passion drive my behavior leading me through life. Maybe that is not the best way to lead a life. It has done me more good than bad. Nearly everything I’ve set my mind to I’ve accomplished. Yes, I have failed so so much. However, I’ve achieved a great deal. There is much I want to see and experience before my life is over. I have much work to do. What I hope is today, I’ll do my best and be my best. I want the best. I cannot help it. I’m simply passionate.