I Live in a World of Legos' and Love

This morning, I awoke to the sounds of nothing, and I now believe that silence can eat away at my dreams far worse than any alarm can make them disappear. But it was what it was, and today is what it is, and I think it's going to be a great day for some reason... at least that's what my sheets told me as I left them, though lonely they laid. 

I went outside earlier than normal, so early that the day was still letting go of the night. It's an interesting thing though, aint' it? you know, the darkness becoming daylight. I understand it scientifically,  but I can't help but always wonder who actually lets go of who? Does day let go of night, or does night let go of day? I like to think the moon is control, but that's just me. 

I saw my breath leave my lips three times before I had the chance to gaze the snow this morning. The barely covered blades of grass somehow still looked like Christmas to me, and I went to the fireplace to search for presents from years before. I found wonderful memories and also a couple swords that were just never real enough to stab out my eyes. I also thought about how badly I wished I still believed in Santa, because for some reason today I wanted to venture a fireplace with him and risk burning. How exhilarating it must be.

I keep yawning, and my eyes feel like they're mad at me for opening them. I guess I may have woke up too early today huh? But that's what happens to me when I go to sleep before 1:00 am, I cannot sleep through the night. I can tell though, I am not exactly all there at the moment. After all, I did just briefly mention risking burning alive in a chimney with a make believe man who brings us presents every year and somehow can eat cookies at every house he goes to. Plus, they say the human body cannot even handle consuming that much milk. I liked it better when I didn't know anything. 

Iv'e been trying to figure out what I'm writing about for about an twenty minutes now, but I think I finally understand where I'm going with this one (oh yeah, by the way, I had no intentions of even writing this morning), but anyhow... I believe it's about how I think today is wonderful, mainly because I felt the need to feel air no matter how brisk it made my chest feel. I think today is wonderful because it's not yesterday, as in I had the glory of seeing another day. I think today is wonderful, because there is a tomorrow- I hope.

But if doesn't come for some reason, I'd just like to say that I learned one of the most precious lessons today when I sat at that fireplace and thought back to when I was just a little boy. "Little boy", that's a funny statement, because my limbs haven't longed for much more since those days, but my heart...my heart, fuck... that thing has gotten far to big, so big It nearly hurts from all it holds. Then there is my mind, not the deep depths of my soul type mind, actually like my brain- the part where I have attempted to store everything I've learned over the years. But what I learned today is that I hate my brain so much, yet I love my soul (...they are far different). To be naive again is how we fly, so I think this year I'm going to leave cookies and milk out again in hopes they disappear. 

Knowledge is nothing but a curse to imagination. Reality is my dreams worst enemy... And this fireplace, I think I'm going to burn anything that's ever attempted to rot my soul, but I'll keep everything that lives in my heart, though it heavily weighs against my chest. The air brisk within it, but beautiful it will become.

Dear Rochester... I Love You.

It's not exactly easy for me to say what I am about to tell you, mainly because I am one of the most stubborn people I know, but anyway...

There once was a time where I was gazing out at the Atlantic, Miss Atlantic, and I would watch the way the waves would fold over with no acknowledgment of what lied in their path. It was a reckless journey to say the least. But while I watched these white-tips turn over and smash into the areas of the sand where its particles were always caught in a war between breathing or drowning, I would find myself kicking up sand castles just to watch them disappear into the backdrop of a burning Southern sun, where birds would fly freely with no clouds above. It was perfect, so perfect, that at the time I truly believed I never wanted to live in Rochester again... you know Rochester, that little place I sometimes called home, you know, when I wasn't too busy attempting to pretend it held no beauty. 

So, this is the part that is difficult for me to admit, but it needs to be said: I'm starting to think I want to live here for the rest of my life, you know, call this place home, like it always has been since the first day I left my mothers womb. Having said that, do not twist my words, which people so often enjoy doing when they don't truly understand something. I am not saying I am done traveling, or seeing different places, I am merely explaining that I am ready to tell you that this is the next chapter of my life, and I truly believe it's meant to begin and end here, you know, in this little place I should have always called home. But let me explain why...

I recently had the glory of seeing Fall for the first time in four years. I know what you're probably thinking: What do you mean, see Fall? You have definitely seen Fall in the past four years Michael! And although you are mostly correct, because I have seen it, mainly from a distance, driving through different states and what-not, this doesn't mean I have SEEN it. To me, a season where the leaves slowly change, you cannot truly appreciate the process of a once green leaf changing from reddish-orange to yellow from a distant passing in a car. Honestly, you may have a better chance of  catching the day turn into night (you remember that, when we were younger, how we always wanted so dearly to catch the magnificent moment when light would become dark, or sun would become moon... a complicated process far beyond the simplistic measures of claiming nightfall). 

Also, I am looking forward to Winter this year, which is another difficult thing for me to admit, primarily because if you're from Rochester you know how bad the snow can pile up here. But after all these years, I've learned something about Winters here, it's not the snow nor the brisk air that makes cold months ironically a burning hell, it's the people that have forgotten the beauty behind the changing of seasons. It's astonishing how easily influenced we are by the weather... it's amazing how weak we all become too, as if our bodies become so brittle, we act like we all hang like icicles from a porch just waiting to fall and break, and shatter like pointless glass that never served a purpose. You see that right there? That was over-dramatizing a situation. It's similar to when you act like a complete selfish asshole and bitch about brushing off your car in the morning or shoveling a walkway for three months out of the whole year. You know, being over dramatic about a minor task you need to do when there is far greater things to worry about. But I'm not just talking about certain people, almost all of us are guilty of this. 

Speaking of dramatizing something, I don't want to overdo this one, so please allow me a moment  to conclude what I'm trying to say:

What it comes down to is simple... in the air, I need change. I need the ground to challenge my feet on some days. I enjoy that not every morning is the same here, and as much as I'd like to murder the rain, without a storm how is their every sunny days? Since I've been home, I'm beginning to remember how good feeling every season change is for the heart, because I believe the process of them changing keeps our beats fresh, in sync with our soul- that thing we so often forget that is more important than our eyes and skin. Don't get me wrong, letting my body burn in the hot sun everyday overlooking the ocean is beautiful and all, but that too can become repetitive. Plus, I don't want to get too much into it, maybe some other time, but the truth is it is not the place, it's the people. You could stand in the sand and look out into any ocean all you'd like, but if you don't have someone next to you that you love and have known for your whole life to turn to and explain how beautiful it is, the waves then don't crash the same, if you know what I mean. 

If you keep up with these, then you know that I usually begin them with a little poem... this one I did not. This is because when I was walking around outside this morning at roughly 6:30 am after falling asleep at 5:00 am ( yup, nothings changed, my sleeping habits are still fuckin' crazy), I wrote poetry in this Rochester air with my breath...and it went something like this:

I cannot breathe 

without the burning of leaves,

I cannot see without the snow.

I need to see the seasons change,

and I'm beginning to believe

that I need this home.