I'm Looking for God Everywhere.

For those who can still ride an airplane for the first time : Anis Mojgani.

I'm thirty years old, and I'm trying to figure out most days what being a man means.
I don’t drink, fight or love but these days I find myself wanting to do all three,
And I don’t really have a favorite color anymore, but I did when I was a kid.
And back then that color was blue, and back then I wanted to be an astronaut, I wanted to be an architect, an artist, a secret agent, a ranger for the World Wildlife Fund, and a hobo.
And when I was six years old I used to always throw my clothes into my blue and yellow, plastic and vinyl, hot wheels car-carrying suitcase and run away to beneath the dining room table.
I’ve made out with more girls than I wish I’ve had and not nearly as many as I’d like to.
I’ve been in love four or five times so I doubt I’m going to try that much more often.
And I spend most days making pictures or thinking about making pictures or masturbating or thinking about masturbating.
And I dream too much and I don't write enough,
And I’m trying to find God everywhere. Trying to figure this thing he made called a man.
And the television, it tells me that that's bare-knuckled bombing,
And if I drove a tank or was a movie star my penis would be huge.
And thats what I want because thats what being a man means, or at least thats what they keep telling me.
My pops, he takes care of us.
He puts the garbage out twice a week.
He drives forty-five minutes just to water flowers.
I'm sitting on the bus when a seven year-old boy carrying a book of Robin Hood, he sits down next to me he and asks me my name.
“Anis.” That’s a nice name.
“Thank you, what’s yours?” Quentin.
Anis, do you want to read with me?
So tell me what my fists keep writing.
My fingers, they open up like gates when I write and the wind is swinging in the wake.
I lift bridges with poems and forests grow in my mother’s eyes.
“I am looking for God, Quentin.”
While this world tries to forget you for trying.
For Quentin, this world hates your eyes,
For they are small and pure.
And Quentin, this world hates your fingers, little like the stems of flowers.
For not being able to pick up the things you have left behind, simply because you are still learning to do so.
I don’t drink, fight, or fuck but these days, Quentin, it’s only two out of those three that I don’t do.
And I fall in love six, seven, eight, nine, ten times, Quentin, so I don’t want to want to, but I still do.
And I want to find God in the morning, in the tired hands of dusk. At the mouth of the river, and down by its feet,
But, instead, I drive sixty through residential streets, praying to hit a child so that they may stay forever an angel, and stay forever of night and life and crayons and simple outstretched limbs
..Trying to pick up way too much way too fast, forgetting what it means to be a person.
In a world where egos are measured with tabloids, where automobiles double for morals, where beliefs are like naps; you leave them behind when somebody touches you.
And in a place where oil always takes precedence over life,
I find myself sitting on a bus, watching a small boy float down like fresh waterCarrying a book that I used to, asking if I want to see what he sees if only for a little while, and I do.
Then asks if I want to give to him what I see if only for a little while, and I read to him.
And then says to me he’s going to show me the world.
And starts reading the sentences himself, his hands dancing back and forth across the pages, stumbling over words, skipping over lines because his fingers are moving faster and with the showing of his eyes,
I wanna tell him, “Slow down, Quentin. Slow down, Quentin.You don't have to touch go.
You can see it all if your finger whispers on one word.
Slow down and hold what you see just a little while longer.”
For in a world of fast faces, I’m looking for God everywhere, trying to figure out a little better this little thing he made called a man.”

Panning for Gold : Ben Sollee

I saw God by the river

Panning for gold

I saw God by the river

Weary and old

He said; Son,

I used to know where I put things,

I used to know.

I saw God in the forest

Teaching Tai Chi to the trees

In the wind

And bowing to the sea.

He said; Son,

I used to know where I put things,

I used to know.

I saw God on a mountain

Tearing at the sky

I saw God on a mountain

With tears in His eyes.

He said; Son,

I used to know where I put things

I used to know

I could have shown you all the beauty in the world,

But now I need you to show me.

Yes, show me.

The Beginning of a New Year.

Well, summer is over, and here I am sitting in a dorm room again. I knew it had to end sometime, but dang I was surprised at how quickly it snuck up on me. You'd think that four months would be more than enough time to be with family and friends back home. But when you think about it longer, what is four months a year compared to the twelve I used to live there? But thinking about it that way just depresses me, so I guess I'll just have to be grateful for what time I did have at home.

Before it ended, though I managed to get a few last thrills in, the best of which included my last day at Johnny Rockets!! The worst of which included my best friend and I getting caught by her parents at a party at my house while my parents were hiking the grand canyon. I didn't actually get into trouble, my parents are pretty understanding and are aware that my brother and I drink; they were basically expecting us to use the house. Katie's parents on the other hand were pretty strict with her (she couldn't come to my house without parental supervision for the rest of the summer), but I think they got over it eventually.

I don't even understand why parents are so surprised or disappointed when they discover that their kids drink-at least, not when they're around 17 or 18. If it is legal at some point in a person's life, what decides when a person is old/responsible enough to do it. It makes me mad when parents get mad at their children for drinking at home when they've been at college unsupervised for at least a year. I feel that my parents rules about drinking are pretty fair- don't drink and drive, don't make an idiot of yourself, and make sure the house is cleaner than when they left it. The only one I don't understand is they don't normally let us drink in their presence, even if we're not going anywhere. It's like they don't want to know it's going on...even when they do. Whatever, it's an issue I'll never really understand, especially here in America, where basically everywhere else in the world, it's legal at 18.

Anyways, moving on. The only other thing worth noting was a quick road trip to San Diego with a few friends which was a blast.

Four days of crazy driving, by yours truly,

ahhh the fresh mountain air!

coffee houses, drunken confessionals, ladies nights out,

shopping sprees and sunset hikes,

exploring the forest of my grandmother's backyard

atomic bingo, getting bad tans and sun-highlights,

catching up on some reading,

and all without managing to kill each other!

...well maybe not.

;)

It was a nice way to end out the summer. And now I'm back! (from outer space. hah.) I have so much stuff going on I'm surprised I'm still functioning so well. New classes, new roommate, new clubs, new job, new responsibilities, new perspective, new year.

I need to go soon (damn homework), but let me just explain that everything that's going on this year is due to this new outlook I have; my new perspective. Any my perspective is this:

Courage is not the absence of fear; but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.

And yes, I realize this is straight out of The Princess Diaries, but I was watching it last night and I decided it summed up my new view perfectly. There is no reason to be scared to do something. I value experience over comfortability which is why this year it seems so much more important to me to make the best of every moment of it. What does it matter if everything works out okay, but there are periods in life where you are alone with nothing to do but wish you were doing more? Periods of time wasted on the internet or watching TV alone in your room because you're too afraid that you'll look like an idiot doing it alone in the lobby? Walking to the library on your own to get some work done, just so you can feel like you did something with your day, and secretly envying the group playing frisbee on the quad. Thus, the life of my Freshman year. I've decided to put an end to this wishful thinking and put it into action. Without further ado, I give you the list of activities I plan to stay committed to this school year:

-Working at the Writing Center

-Concert Choir

-Chamber Singers (if I qualify)

-Pirates of Penzance (the musical)

-Pride

-Garrick Players (another theater group on campus)

all that and keeping my grades up is going to be a doozy, but I WILL do it. As mentioned in my last blog post, I have the most reliable companion. Coffee.

GOODNIGHT.

Ode to Coffee.

I concluded today, I'm addicted to Coffee.

Nothing compares, not ice cream, not toffee.

For when we are together, the world actually spins,

and I find that my day almost always begins

to improve in a way that seems fun and productive.

So you taunt me this night, sitting oh, so seductive.

Oh coffee, if only wed we could be.

You're already the only one my eyes wish to see

upon waking, as smelling you lures me from dreams,

whether they'd ended in smiles or screams.

You then jump-start my heart, both with zeal and romance

so the blood pumps with passion as if it were chance

that reincarnated the zombie of flesh

I once was. Now stunned, I stand here afresh.

Can't you just take the place of a significant other?

For you are reliable, don't question or smother!

I guess though, for now, you will remain just a drink,

but thank you for forcing me to rethink

what I thought I wanted in a relationship, gay.

I guess every one is a Coffee kind of day.