I mean, I talked about how I was some sort of metaphorical ninja with a belly full of energy…

These are Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not metaphorical ninjas.

I’d love to sit here and tell you that the post was inspired by some stroke of genius that no one but myself can possibly understand. And I’d love it if you could just take my word that this post was what all metaphorical blog posts should strive to be like.

But, the truth is…well, the truth is coffee.

Truth

Equals

Coffee

You see at some point during the evening I was cold, as was often the case in my previous apartment. And the truth is, the only way I knew how to get warm was to drink something warm. And the only warm thing I had was coffee. And I had not yet mastered brewing coffee. Which meant that when I made coffee I made a whole pot. And I didn’t have an abundance of cash. Which meant that I hated for things to go to waste. Which resulted in me drinking an entire 12 cup pot of coffee in about 4.5 hours or so.

I remember sitting on the couch. I remember telling Roommate that I had a belly fully of energy. You get the metaphor? I know I’m pushing definitions. (But, shouldn’t we all be?)

So, now that I’ve told you my great lie, you are probably wondering, “why is he bringing all of this up, a year later?”

Well, tonight I was listening to music as I was folding my clothes and a burst hit me.

Yeah, it was kinda like this.

A burst of what? Don’t worry I’m not going to say energy. Although I would define the burst as a sort of energy. But, this burst is better known as creativity. A line came to me. And then another. And I was forced to throw down the socks in my hands and grab a pen and my notebook. I jotted them down before I forgot them.

You see, my conclusion (and the connection to my previous post) is that my brain must drink coffee. Or at the very least take a shot of espresso every once in a while.

My brain must drink it through my ear or something. Although, I can't imagine how I wouldn't notice that.

That was a metaphor. If you don’t know what a metaphor is, I’m guessing you’ve been lost this whole time.

Sometimes I get lucky with these brain-espresso-drinking-bursts-of-creative-energy. They don’t come around everyday. Sometimes I don’t get the chance to write them down. Sometimes they don’t even amount to anything. A line is worthless without a spark, and we are only talking about bursts. And sometimes I just don’t have it in me to finish an entire pot of coffee. But, on those occasions when I do drink the whole thing (metaphorically speaking of course), well let’s just say I have a belly (or brain) full of energy.

Bad news. My sources tell my that Jackie Chan is actually just a metaphorical ninja. MIND. BLOWN.

I worked at a church.

Not this church, although I have been here.

I worked at a daycare.

Were you really expecting a picture?

I worked at a University.

This was taken from the building I worked in.

I worked on a farm.

I got to take care of these things everyday.

I worked at a major office supply store.

I would have been happier working with Dwight.

I’ve loved different aspects of those jobs. The aspects that allowed me to create, to think, to be myself. There were times at all of my former places of employment that I wanted to quit. And yes, eventually I quit all of them for various reasons. Sometimes we have to give up our current positions to move on to the next.

If where I am at now is a result of quitting all of or any of those jobs than I am happy with that.

So, what am I doing now, you ask? (besides being awesome)

Well I’m writing professional web content in the form of websites and blogs.

You might be saying to yourself, “self, it sounds like he sold out. Didn’t he want to do something with creative writing?”

First off, you shouldn't be talking to yourself. It just looks disturbing.

Me: “Yes I did want to do something with creative writing and Yes I still do. I’m not one of those bands that changed their tune just to sell a few more albums.

You know who you are!

I’m not a guy who was hell-bent on changing the world through entrepreneurship just to take the first corporate job that came my way.”

I’m actually not even in the corporate world. I sit in a tiny room with my best friend everyday. Yeah okay, what I am writing doesn’t take too much creativity and yeah it can be boring.

But the point is I have become an artistic mule.

Something about this.

That was a metaphor. If you don’t know what a metaphor is then just quit reading.

I’m still using my artistic skills of writing and creating. I just turned them into a job.

I’m still doing something I love. Everyday I sit down at a computer to do something I love. I am an artistic mule that will continue to write and create while I push through this. I will continue to carry the load of an artist who is just trying to make his way through a world that is quickly forgetting what a metaphor is. A world that doesn’t know what metonymy is. A world that is losing places for mules like me.

This is what it looks like when you work with your best friend

This is Herman.

The one where you are sitting on a fence post chewing gum and playing with a yo-yo?

This is you on a fence post.

And Herman the Worm comes along?

You ask him why he keeps growing?

He tells you he ate his family members?

Maybe you don’t know it. Maybe you’ve never heard it. But, that’s okay because I want to focus on a specific aspect of the song: the beginning.

You’re sitting on the fence post. Chewing gum. Just sitting there. Wasting time. You’re probably blowing bubbles. Wearing your hat backwards.

I was like that just two months ago. I was just sitting away chewing bubble gum while sitting on a fence post.

That was a metaphor. If you don’t know what a metaphor is just quit reading. 

I found myself not actually sitting on a fence post, but on my couch. I found myself chewing gum of a metaphorical flavor.

There really isn’t a purpose to gum. Maybe to freshen your breathe. But, I mean really gum is kind of annoying. People pop it, chew loudly, smacking their gums together. It’s just almost gross.

I can't hardly look at this without cringing.

I’m concluding, for all of us, that gum is not okay. (At least in this metaphorical flavor.)

I’ve found a reason not to chew gum anymore. And I must admit, which is hard for me, that I never thought I would be willing to spit out my gum.

This isn't actually my gum.

I used to chew it all the time. I was the king of chewing gum and sitting on my metaphorical fence post (also known as my couch).

I feel like I’m finally growing up, and in my new grown up world, I don’t really have time chew gum like I used to.

But, I will still occasionally chomp down on a piece (or two).

*Insert picture of fake package of gum.*

And for those of you who don’t know the song go here.

These are fighting kangaroos.

If you haven't gotten the message Bears are scary.

There have been several sightings in the last few months or so. And in fact I’ve had several close encounters. Sometimes too close for my liking.

My, point is that there are Sexy Bears out there and we constantly have to be on the look out.

Some of them just want to tear you apart…I mean they are bears, so I guess we just have to forgive them for that.

But, some of them aren’t really like Ninja Bears.

I like to imagine that this Bear was hiding in the water just waiting to attack.

Some of them are more like Teddy Bears.

I think this picture speaks for itself.

That was a metaphor. If you don’t know what a metaphor is go here. Or just quit reading.

(This has become a metaphor wrapped inside like 5 metaphors, so if you don’t really follow what I’m talking about, then I suggest you use the links I’ve provided throughout the post. And if after you read those you still don’t get it, then just quit reading).

Some bears are stitched together and have that white fluffy stuffing inside them. And sometimes that stitching starts to come off. And that white stuffing you aren’t really supposed to see, well it shows.

This is might be a slight over-exaggeration.

And, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing…we all have our damages. I guess that’s my point.

Even Ninja Bears have scars.

Teddy Bears have loose stitching (which isn’t a metaphor for what it sounds like, I probably should have rethought that).

However, it is important to remember that even though it is a Teddy Bear you should still take precautions because these things won’t work against even those soft bears:

They should come a disclaimer: "Don't waste your money."

And because I don’t know how to finish this post here is a picture of a teacup pig:

Answer: The Matrix.

Bet you didn't see that one coming.

Yeah, lets think about this for a second…..how can you watch the Matrix and not get the whole Jesus metaphor?

But, that’s not what I’m writing about now.  No, I prefer the more subtle metaphor that is centered around a single scene.

A scene of choice.

Between a single red

Not my favorite color.

and a single blue pill.

I'm not sure what my favorite color is anymore.

Neo has to choose a pill.  One leads back to the “life” he thinks he knows.

Looks can be deceiving.

The other leads back to the “real” world.

And I don’t want to focus on the difference between these two worlds. No, I want to go even further in than that.

Imagine this scene as a telescope, and with each section of the telescope the picture narrows in.  You can see something you didn’t before.

So, if we continue to look at this scene, it comes down to one thing: choice.

Neo must choose a pill.

It’s not about the color.

And it’s not really about the initial effect.

It’s about the choice in that moment.

And the truth of the matter is we all pick pills everyday.

That was a metaphor. If you don’t know what a metaphor is just quit reading.

We pick pills every time we make a decision, and each pill–no matter what the color–has some grand effect. (Ok, so not every pill has a grand effect, but I like to think that every pill no matter how small or large effects our lives in some way.)

And when you think about these daily pills being bigger than just a single simple pill you telescope backwards, and see them on the grander scale.

I’m not saying think for twenty minutes about every pill, but shouldn’t we at least consider possibilities?

You never know which pill could be your last. Or which pill could change your life.

Neo wants you to know that I don't condone the use of illegal pills. It was all just a big metaphor. Like the matrix. Boom. Inceptioned.

(side note: I always got living room and family room mixed up as a child because we didn’t really use the living room, which didn’t make sense to me because of its name.)

The saying? “When one door closes another one opens.”

Or something to that effect.

Yeah like this majestic door clearly leading into a world full of blue skies and puffy white clouds.

You get my point, right? The saying? You know what I’m talking about?

I’m assuming you do.

So anyways, I was thinking about that nice little bundle of clichéness today.

And it hit me.

I’m in a room with closed doors.

(While what I just said is a metaphor, it is not the metaphor in which I will be telling you about.)

You see, a “door” in my life has closed. And while I have been waiting for one to open, none have.

Okay, okay. I haven’t been that patient.  Instead, I’ve been pulling on every door I can find, with no avail.

Like this guy, but I don't think my nose is this big. Is it? Please don't look...please.

So, I’m sitting in this (metaphorical) room today thinking “how do I get out when no doors are opening?”

The solution: break my way out. I have to tear a hole in the wall and walk through with my head held high.

That was a metaphor. If you don’t know what a metaphor is go here. If that doesn’t help then I have nothing for you.

I can’t see any other way out. Sometimes we really do exhaust all other options.

And sometimes we have to go in swinging.

And sometimes we go down.

But, if I go down, I’m going down in my own style. My own way. My own life. My own passion. My own hole in a wall.

I’d rather be outside

Like this guy.

Than in a room with no openings.

I’d rather be free than be caged

Like this guy.

And I’ve learned that if I have to use my fingernails and scratch through the drywall of this room I will.

It may take a while, but I'll get it done.

I forgot to explain the death part: while the saying on that pillow/blanket was nice and I’m sure at times this particular cliché is comforting, it isn’t always true. Sometimes clichés are nothing more than empty rooms ready to be exposed to the outside in a new way. Sometimes clichés have to be taken out back and “put down” because they simply aren’t always true.

Oh! And here is my true inspiration for this new-found perspective.

Could I ask for a better role model? I think not.

Not a flat, plain, boring Mccheese burger (see what I did there?).

Yeah, I meant McDonald's.

But a burger that is overflowing with cheese and when you take a bite you can’t help but  wipe the juice running down your chin.

This is what I meant.

Don’t lie to yourself.

I know you know what I’m talking about.

This guy is pretty excited about that cheeseburger.

But, have you ever found yourself craving this cheeseburger and then once it is in front of you it’s no longer what you actually crave.

No. The cheese burger crave is pushed aside by a new craving.

Bacon.

So, simple. So, elegant. So, delicious.

And while you might be thinking, “this simple craving dilemma is easily solvable by putting the bacon on the cheese burger.”

But, I’m here to tell you that the two craving are separate, and if you try to combine them they will only cancel each other out, and you quickly find yourself not satisfied and still longing for bacon.

This solves nothing.

There are three separate craving here:

1. Cheese burger (the original craving)

2. Bacon (the craving that you discover you actually have after seeing the original craving)

3. A bacon cheese burger (which is a separate craving and does not satisfy cravings 1 & 2)

We all start out craving a cheese burger, but along the way we realize we aren’t craving a cheese burger but rather bacon.

That was a metaphor, if you don’t know what a metaphor is you have three options:

1. You can stop reading

2. You can continue reading as if you do know what a metaphor is and run the risk of being confused

3. You can go here and read about it

The point is, I thought for months I was craving this giant juicy burger.  I wanted to wipe my chin (and please let us all be mature and over-look the innuendo). But as I was stepping up to the counter to order this burger, I suddenly realized I wanted bacon. Not a bacon burger, just bacon.

But, bacon isn’t ever really just bacon is it?

No, bacon (metaphorically speaking) is what we have always wanted, but never realized we wanted.

And most people might tell us that if you are standing at the counter getting ready to order the burger it is too late for bacon, but that’s just a bacon myth.

This guy knows what I'm talking about.

The truth is it is never too late for bacon.  We can always still have bacon, and I recently made a choice to have bacon and not a cheese burger.  And my life will never be the same.

Kevin wants you to eat BACON.

It's kinda like this.

I have.

It hurts.

Bad.

It’s one of those times when you want to cry just a little bit because it hurts, but then you remember people are watching.

Yeah, you can't do this.

It’s like when you hit your nose on something.  Tears swell up, and it hurts.  But it doesn’t hurt bad enough to full-out cry.

So you just let that one big tear roll down your face. And you try to wipe it away as quickly as possible so that no one sees. Because, remember, there are people watching you.  You just missed your chair and fell on the ground.

And as soon as they know your tailbone isn’t broken (only your ego) they will inevitably laugh.

I don't know how to read this.

Not with you. At you.

Tonight (a) Sexy-Ninja Bear pulled a chair out from under me.

It was more like this.

(Here’s more recap on Sexy-Bear)

Enough said.

That was a metaphor.  If you don’t know what a metaphor is go here. Or just quit reading.

I wasn’t expecting it when it happened.  And the floor seemed harder than it should be, as if the carpet did nothing to cushion the concrete under it.

Or maybe my chair was just entirely too high for me.

And I realized after I hit that non padded carpet I can’t do this anymore.

This Sexy-Ninja Bear wins.  I can’t keep up with its jiu-jitsu moves and its kong fu kicks.  I’m not a ninja.  I never have been.  I never will be.

No one can compete with this.

But, I can’t keep fighting a bear that has skills I don’t.  It’s a battle I won’t ever win.

And as much as it hurt when I hit that floor, it certainly jarred me enough to wake up from this walking comatose I’ve been living in.  And I have to remember the woods are full of Sexy Bears, and walking away doesn’t alway mean you lose.

This has nothing to do with anything I just said.

Greatest. Movie. Ever.

You know the one where Steven Tyler sings and all the girls cry.

I like his hat.

The one where Owen Wilson is this slap-happy cowboy.

What do you even begin to say about this man?

The one where Ben Affleck out does himself one more time.

I cant think of a better actor to ever live. He would play me in a movie.

The one where a bunch of blue-collar oil drilling men save the world from being hurled into a catastrophe beyond measure or comparison.

Insert epic music.

Well, if you haven’t that’s the basic plot structure.  All the necessary things you need to know.

Oh and Billy Bob is in it.

But there is a part in the movie that came to my mind yesterday.  Owen Wilson is being strapped into his seat on the shuttle and is talking about how he feels nervous and excited at the same time, “I got that “excited/scared” feeling. Like 98% excited, 2% scared. Or maybe it’s more – It could be two – it could be 98% scared, 2% excited but that’s what makes it so intense, it’s so – confused. I can’t really figure it out.”

Have you ever felt that confused about your emotions? Like you could be really excited or you could just be really scared?

This guy clearly has.

But, the real question is what is the difference?  Where do we draw the line? The paper-thin line that runs between excitement and fear.

I digress.

My point here was to compare the feelings I had yesterday with those of Owen Wilson.

So, if there must be a metaphor-and there must-then I am Owen Wilson.

That was a metaphor, if you don’t know what a metaphor is then quit reading.

Yesterday I sat through an awards banquet and as the time drew near for the reason I was there I became excited/nervous.

Professor K was presenting the awards and as he rambled through the honorable mentions I kept expecting my name to be read, but it never was.  I was slightly confused, but as I realized what that must mean I became increasingly more nervous and excited.

He read the third place-name, which sounded nothing like mine at all.  And the anticipation was building inside of me.

He read the second place-name, and I had a surge of mixed emotions.  My first thought was that he had completely messed up.  All of my Professors told me I had won something in this contest, but surely I hadn’t won first place.  I was slightly pissed, clearly they had all misinformed me.  Then it hit me, why would they do that.  I won.  I couldn’t believe that.  There was this fear/excitement.  What did it mean to win?  How could I have done this? And the anticipation of hearing my name was starting to work its way up my throat, like the macaroni and cheese that I couldn’t keep down when I was 8 and had the stomach flu.

And just for fun, here is the poem I won with:

Body

In Arabic the word Body means:
a bird flying
out of my mouth
and into your heart

a mountain
that one can never climb
but all have

light that fades
and darkness that never lasts

to be constantly moving forward—
rapid and colliding
with the world
looking for a place to land

a soul, but more than my own

a man looking
for Truth and Earth

a rib formed beneath skin
taken from dirt that rises
and swallows everything whole.

Just so you know, I didn't act like this.

This (once again) was the only appropriate picture.

Or perhaps your favorite memory of swimming is with your older brother in a Holiday Inn 60 miles away from home?

This needs no clever caption.

Or maybe you went swimming in your back yard every day during summer break?

My back yard looked like this. Didn't everyone's?

The point is: at some pool bash, or a hotel, or your back yard, you were probably dared to sit at the bottom of the pool for as long as you could.

Or maybe that thought was your own,
“I wonder how long I can sit down there before I need to breathe?”

Too bad my clever thought was a stock photo.

And no matter how much our 11-year-old self wants to sprout gills and swim away like some common freshwater trout, you know in your head (no, not your heart) that those gills will never show up.

And no matter how much you want to stay at the bottom of that pool counting…

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

And at 6 you start to wonder how much longer you can take it.  That feeling of pressure slowly building up in your lungs, like you will never be able to taste fresh, clear, cold water again–even though you are currently living in a world of water.  And at 6 you wonder if this is the end because at 11, 6 seconds is longer than an eternity.

7…

8…

9…

10..

11..12..13..14..You count faster because you aren’t sure you can make it to wherever you are going.

At 15 you tell yourself 5 more seconds because you will look like a coward if you come up before 20, but your head is starting to float away from your body, and your heart is racing faster than you ever thought it would.

16..17..

18..Your seconds slow again because you are almost done.

19…

20.

And as soon as that last “y” slips off the proverbial tongue in your head, you push-off the bottom of the world, and your head breaks free of the pressure.  Your eyes are burning slightly, and the air you never thought you would feel again–taste again–fills your lungs like balloons and you can live again, in a world you thought you may never know again.

So, where’s the metaphor?

The metaphor is this:

I’m sitting at the bottom of a pool and I’m counting.  I’m counting to 20 and I can feel my head start to float away from my body.  My head races and I can’t remember the taste of water.

I miss the taste of food.

The feeling of air in my lungs.

Expanding and contracting.

The feel of grass between my toes.

It's a summer feeling that can't be broken or compared to anything else.

The sound of my own laughter.

While this is not me, it made me smile.

The smell of my grandmother’s kitchen in the early afternoon.

They called this a "country" kitchen. They clearly haven't spent much time in the country.

I miss not sitting at the bottom of the pool, but it’s important to sit there for a while.  To remember what it is like without air.  And then, when you get to 20 and you can no longer take it, that’s when you kick off.

See, even this guy wants to sit at the bottom of the pool.