Moving on, Part One.

"We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths."

-Walt Disney

July 5th, 2015

(Nothing)

August 1st, 2015

Some time in the afternoon.

I moved out of the five long years streak of living in a basement, but it is not for a better place, or a beneficial experience. It was almost on a whim, by my mother, without even a destination in mind. And so the last few days of July was spent in  hurried time race to seek and find some help for what would now be considered homelessness in legal terms. A friend helped, and now I am wondering what will be next of this adventure. For what could have been avoided first of all. No blaming today.

August 8th, 2015

2:14pm
It has been a week since my arrival here at Teresa's living room. Moments would follow through as though they were on a slow but steady race. I can catch them once I step up to the track. I often don't run as fast as I imagine I would after my feet kick up sand. Documentaries became my lunch. Swimming has proved to be a convenient mode of physical experience, other than the library with an approximate in between distance of my runs around Lake Phalen, or three miles. All the more, going out and enjoying the day presses me forward.
On the quieter side of my enterprise, the night would fall soundlessly and the restlessness of my family blink away sleep, and here with my computer glowing in stillness, my ideas flowed easier. It's on a modern device. My reassurance will rest with the churning of a pen and its mouth. Notebooks will always have that warm, imaginative emporium. Some days, however, I do dream of one utopian afternoon, where bubbles of thoughts would be caught before they fly away. How would it be done? That's for us to decide. Us as in humanity and the universe's infinite expansion. Us as in our ways of thinking so distinct from our sisters and brothers of the animal kingdom, that we are able to engineer wisps of disembodied matter into whatever the creator decides should be birthed. How funny to think of such a thing. And how is it that we think, to top that off? Wait, not how, but why is a progressive question. All of these thoughts talk to me as I try to balance my day.

August 10th, 2015

10:52am
It has been a week for me. I've gone to a gradual rise on my writing now that I've intricately described what I am about to construct with comrades. And these people are the ones I've purposely kept behind the pretty wall from my mother. Aye, the world of my alter ego has casted a tension on the belt of my family bonds. There has been a dream of this person, and it was a rather questionable one. There was a friend from a bowling alley, a mask and matching soft red paws were worn by this person, and then came something else that at the time I thought was not such a big deal. There was mostly playful fights, and now I see it as another meaningful vision. What was once a side interest has engulfed my focus on what is important in the remaining weeks of summer. Only, let's see, twenty seven days of this freedom. Or is it even that? I wonder, I haven't read as often as I ought to be doing. My mind has swerved under the influence, of a subculture.
Today I have finally another chance at getting out of this pit of dependence via a job interview. I, oddly, do not appreciate the mindset of someone labeling another before the legal age of maturity as a "kid" or some other variance of the term. It is quite a stubborn argument to be giving. In reality, I have my hand in both pond of the spectrum of being so close to adulthood. I am still young. I am fervent in what I do, and at a ripe age at that. But I am also a responsible, independent, and maybe even a tier above my age group in thought processes and wisdom. Only four months until the watery stupor of being an adolescence will be over. And that has made me think, what can I do until then?
But what does that matter even so? I'll still be as healthy the next day of the month. I won't meet a tsunami of paperwork and bills the morning after. I may not even notice anything has changed unless I were to peer at the calendar, and remember why. But, meanwhile, I know that is not all where all the eggs are in my basket.  I will have from then on a deeper sense of galloping minutes in the sands of the wind. I won't ever relive my teen years again. It is one thing that I care about this concern, but another to see the clock ticks on a booklet as an important life event as well. No matter what the application says or what my neighbors are popping after, I will change once more, however different it may or may not turn out to be. However vague or descriptively tuned my planner fattens up to be. Daniel J. Marquez, he no longer will be, he already is.

3:58pm
The interview went well. It may be the closest I've been to obtaining an actual job, aside from the other place of Subway. It's at a senior home not too far from my temporal housing. So, I wait for a call that is the tether to the flow of income. I may as well make use of the rest of my summer to be a true, wholesome experience.
Writing has become an entity of energy for me. It's as though the field of pen to paper scripture is an actual animal. It's eyes are hungry for expression, but it won't comply easily to the beginner well. In fact, it may not even take a liking of its comrade at all. What it seems to boil down to, this metaphor, is that we must live a mutual relationship with our fellow warrior. Controlling it is not a possibility, for if one knows how well of a piece he or she may have baked, the juxtapose of our own expectations in the hands of an editor perhaps, or a judgmental relative, will flip that literary cake upside down. And not in fondant manners. The career writing may form for me has leveled my mind to be rather a selfish individual as I care for more "me" than "we" in this life book with sentences as my day. The little posse living right inside my office space? They are visitors. Oh, it is a difficult discipline, indeed, and even more so once someone takes the oath of doing it without a barnacle of regard for the lazy mind. Imagination will, eventually, be carved out of its box in the refrigerator  and join us for this business day. But, wait, let's take in all of the other meetings it has. And all of the soccer practices Creativity must attend. And the emergency that Abstract got itself into. And so on. Maybe not a hundred hours spent at the desk would be as profitable as we would like for it to be. All of these factors contribute to why dedication is a must. Ego and emotions cannot be interwoven among the mingling ants of creative possibilities. And so I realize on my little journey of keeping a daily writing habit alive.

August 12th, 2015

11:51am
I am keeping up with the schedule and so, I feel vividly energetic at the moment! So many friends I have, and yet, why am I not being concise and updating my whereabouts with them?
Anyways, I've registered to go to my first convention in Minneapolis called, well, it involves lots of fluff, so maybe that will be enough information for a few informed. This Migration will be held at a hotel, but, without a job, I won't be staying over in the rooms surrounding the vicinity.  It lasts for three days, but as a volunteer, I might be there for four. Lots of free, fun, and playful people of an invigorating warmth will be attending this public pool of the animal kingdom. And so, I'll be waiting with an ever lasting eager ego, ready for the marvelous hours there until the 27th.
     Friends of an informative level of intelligence know my ambitions quite from top to bottom. I feel enthusiasm raging me to go and meet a few and tell of my stories, or just merely go about and make small talk or chit-chat. I do have knacks to scurry over back at my apartment, the two weeks of iffy feelings I carried filling out the job application last Friday. Still no call from Subway, but from what it looks, I have a better bet on the senior homes. Now, I'm at that time of day where I know I should be doing something, but what is that something again? Hmm, I need a planner.
Ugh, it's still on my mind. It will be so fun!

A moment of Randomness

What do you call a pill that causes pain? A pill-ow!

I should be doing the laundry by now. Oh wait, I already know that my mother is on the case.

Rrrrruuuuuunnnn!

Writing is fun.

How did we go from a hunting and gathering society to one that is so segregated from the myths of food? We are focusing our energy on ideas and concepts that is unimaginably progressive? What will become of us near the end of humanity's existence? What sort of awe are we adept for, and capable of performing only in our future selves? What if we could witness the universe's end?

I wonder how the clouds of an imperial fortress will be attained as I, a groundling, am forced to climb an infinity to reach these steps? May it be madness, but all the wise ones are impeccable to boundaries, no matter how implausible they seem.

I think that's enough for this dispersing creative energy to chew on.

4:58pm
The days no longer feel as long as they once used to. Every passing glance is another hour out the door, or a day unseized by the arms of our present. I'll be moving once more, and maybe then, maybe this one more time as I may be transferring schools, that there will be the shock of my own doubtful, unselfish bridge between the faulty crevice of the mind and soul. Let there be randomness, let there be a wistful gate; the mind alleviated from stale breath as its open window allows all there is to accept, refute, or counter the curious, brittle, but all the more awe-inspiring universe of which a gifted opportunity has been granted in our own spirits. The way of the mind does not depend on those who treasure knowledge or logic or grounded ideas, it is a pleasant discovery of what could be happening, of our own improvising nature and creativity as the wayward guide of our lights are the definitions of what makes us truly ourselves. It is the magic in wonder that preserves the child we physically outgrew. But with some help, the fountain of youth will be present in our hearts. All the ways one can think of today as an excellent miracle, forever more, and until the day of our life's still pond to refer back on our memories upon, is a gratitude in itself.

By Friday, this will all fade from my mind, and I will be simply exerting caloric energy through the rise and fall of boxes and bags and whatever else that should have been thrown out. Maybe then, maybe today, maybe even through my own reflection of now, I could understand what it means to be human. Wholesomeness through the universe.

"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Turn off the T.V.

Turn off the T.V.

"You always admire what you really don't understand." -Blaise Pascal

January 26, 2015 3:35pm

Peace. I had it, have leftovers, we all dig deep for it. A time of it, in my world, has been at the heart of a continuous strive and progressive changing. Specifically, silence opened its doors. Not much of it has been encountered in my experiences, with the exception of before the rustles of day, and after the settling of night. I would allow my thoughts to form, giving way to a wall, obstructing distraction, in the form of a piece of poster board aside my desk. Lots of it may come. Some days I'm rolling along.

The most I've been at ease was during the thirteen hours without cable. It is odd for me to recount it. The sheer empty tones echoing the rooms delighted me ever so. I finally have an advantage point. Boredom would soon take over my siblings, to, maybe, if, gave the slightest chance of at least picking up a book for their interest. Gosh, would I want that again. Sadly, this was shaded.

The less I had, the more I was aware of what was available to me, and the more wholesome my thoughts become.

February 13, 201510:08pm

Vulnerability. Making the next step. These dreams I've been experiencing, they were all are linked by a factor that is not a mystery. It is, well, and will. 
 Over the past few weeks I have noted the more I am myself, the more I discover how thick the wall is between my soul, and the body that stands as the "middle man" from the real world. My dreams, all of them, had and have meaning. One of how as I watched a television program (and when has that happened), nearing the final minute a person was signing to the viewer, giving a little "demo" on that stuff we be missing. Later, opening my laptop, the only working computer in the apartment, I found that it signified how I wasn't effective in my communication of my ideas, that I must find another way about the roads.
Another vision, me on a lifeboat, on an ocean, with a cut-scene of a school bus, was flashed before my eyes.
"You are about to venture on an important life journey needed for your own personal growth.

2/7/15 Stage: It is telling of your interactions with society. You are putting up an act and not being who you really are.
2/5/15 Can: There is something in your past that you need to hold on to and preserve.

2/3/15 In this dream, I wandered into a facility seemingly like my middle school, only the inside showed no signs of desks, nor were there whiteboards and the likes of the objects associated with a common middle-class school. There wasn't even a light on. Instead, the place was similar to someone's big garage. Objects scattered the whereabouts. I could recognize a chair, a desk, a chalkboard, an office printer, with the rest being blurred but still within sight. Just immediately to my front upon entering the echoing and oddly warm room was a blue light. This candle was atop a machine, a robot perhaps, glowed in a soft brightness, curious to the surrounding environment. Upon stepping forth, a loud crack sounded. An eerie stillness swept the abandoned area, an approaching form waded in obscurity. The robot did not at first chase me. Slowly did it creep forward, and asked a straight-forward question: "Will you be coming?" In a frozen stance, I didn't respond, which in effect, turned the serene light ocean orb into a hurricane  trapped in a snow globe. Outside perched a lonesome bicycle, a little to the left of the staircase. I grabbed it, eventually switching to a car, stopping by a fast-food restaurant, met some friends, and rode along the highway, escaping the epidemic.

2/21/15
The When

There is a heart inside of a passed fellow. We all have had experience with one, and, because of that, it doesn't make us any less caring than the force that is put into its thought. Sometimes we may have to push boundaries to have balance in this world. While the others of those said minutes of wander may not be as functioning as the circumstance presents. What is in a social pleasing? It is not one's own gold to thrill his or her friends for only their nay-saying optimism, like the silent poison of sugar, gradually embellishing our very existing souls in lethargic modes. What is in a judgement? How can we be humans if we are not without it? If we are oblivious to it's crunch? How about a lighthearted will of an actual motive? I may be reflecting from my own, inner belligerence.

Its views scrutinizing.
Little do I know about the warmth of daisies, either. Make the essence stay, whatever left of a hamster's energy for now, at least.
  
 I am accustomed to the lead.
Suckling its knowledge, wisdom, scaring my inner desire to build a wall from its wrath. I currently pick my way out. Often I am seen walking in circles about with sunshine behind, my progress continues, and life goes on.  The more I express, the more clear things become. Everyday, I feel this same sense, to such an extent that I must write about it. As the day goes on, however, and the sun's light is shaded by mellow dramatic family and tones, it's as though my dream faded away. This morning's, along with the formidable one of a continuum. Sometimes I may grab at the hint of the memory of it. The next day, is but another to re-experience. So far, I've reached until half an hour until the glow dissolves.
2/20/15 Drawer: "To see drawers in your dream signify your inner and hidden state and being. In particular, a disorderly drawer represents internal chaos and turmoil while an orderly drawer signifies calmness. Alternatively, a drawer symbolizes your reserves. There is something that you have stored away, but are now ready to use or express. If the drawer is full, then it symbolizes your many resources. If the drawer is empty, then it denotes your need to fulfill your goals."
 Piano:To dream that you are playing a piano indicates a quest for harmony in your life. Consider where the piano is placed as a clue as to what aspect of your life needs accordance. If no sound is coming out of the piano, then it implies a lack of confidence. You are not sure about how to express yourself and how to voice your beliefs.
 Nephew:To dream of your nephew represents some aspect of yourself that you need to acknowledge or recognize within yourself.
Beaker: To see or use a beaker in you dream signifies your need to integrate various aspects of your life together. Alternatively, the dream represents logic and objectivity. Perhaps you need to try looking at a problem from a completely different perspective.

These dreams are so meaningful, I have a deep understanding of my own form, and may see significance in those of others.
Bubble gum machine:
To see a gumball machine in your dream indicates that you are searching to be whole again. You are looking for something or someone to complete you. Alternatively, the dream suggests that you need to be more in tune with the inner child within. 
  
I am a searcher, so it seems.

The following morning, I went out for a bite. It was comparable to seeing a thirty-year old at a community college. The place was older than my father, and from the inside it was clearer by the stained tiled ceiling almost directly above our booth, the grease stain rising in a solid yellow smoke decor on the kitchen to the left. People could pop-a-squat and see the mellow-dramatic cuisine be fortified right before their noses. Our waitress wore a white apron that hid a contrasting uniform, serving my aunt and I iced water. Whatever it was about the place, it had a classic style of a movie-like run-of-the-mill, patty-flipping diner. To my right, even the ketchup and mustard bottles were plain red and yellow. It just looked the way. 
On most of these practice sessions for my driving, I would be spoon-fed what was "good" at the restaurant of the week.  This occasion called for something a bit different than the usual omelet. Today was, although still dairy-related, were eggs, and a side of hash-browns. Waiting for the order, I decided to talk.
"Do you have any pictures of the computer?"
Her mind had a processing delay before it came with an answer. "Oh! I'd like to show you." She handed me the phone. "Just scroll-"
In short, the water spilled, I ate, wrote, telepathy was used, and I drove back home. 

 

2015, Final day of February
Strength

There is a force that calls me. It is a simple one that has held hope for me, like a friend that believes the introvert can share his mind with her. The form of the nightingale. Dreams. With every passing day, there is yet another one, and each one has a significance of yesterday's motives. All of those missed opportunities are reborn into broadcasts, gradually in drops, daily, to be seen in a new light. The times are growing old for the proposed changed of lifestyle. There seems to be a wafting essence of a coming tide, here and in others, about all the things that means the future's outcome. No more waiting. And that may bring up another aspect of a drive. Conflict. Just now I found out my little brother, the twelve year old, had stolen from my mother, but was framed early. I sigh. I know I can help them. My family has that one good egg of the fallen cartridge. And as with all malicious indemnities, there is a relief once it is paid. For now, that is over there. Where over there, I shall find out, or try to. There will be a river, through the lengths of the unknown, eventually.

Who's Year?

Come, come: Let's enjoy our
sun for now. Tomorrow will promise not another moment as of
this.

January 9, 2015

9:40pm

New Year's. It is a day of substantial roaring, cheering, and walloping, together with a sparkling beverage, celebrating a collective change of a single digit. A time of being, and a time of family. Worldwide is it recognized through some sort of significant trait, although various, whether it be through pessimism of why a single day to form a plan, in inquisition, or, to some simply have a neutral bar to it. The wait is over, so then arrives the vital next step, to a new journey.

...What new journey?

 No matter what happened on the feel-good dawn, I feel the same. Weird enough, I don't believe that I am at the subject of what could have been genuine authority to impose a rightful steer of events that soon may open itself on my way.  No door of opportunity has been opened from the moment the ball dropped, no revelations of a life-changing matter. Its a discerning piece, to say the least. The situation remains untouched. Still, the point I say is likely a common one, being it is to have a mental reverberation brought to sense again, trying at the life one has so longed and imagined as they watched the Man on the Moon or a sort of bragging television series to swank a person's hops and hots, is the intended aspect sought. This is not a milestone in it of itself! A birthday, first day with the team, a grand opening, may be, but a swap of a calendar won't say or be significant to the people in your circle. Just a reoccurring, spotty, belie of a show for a revolution of our planet. Out of concern, a likely candidate, ironically, is me. It's what my thoughts hold firmly.
And yet, I know it's a start to something. Good efforts cry when they are not recognized in the sorts that adds to the person's traits. So when a second (third, fourth, seventh...) chance of getting at that greater mobility is sought, why not have the best and let that new chapter commence in blight? Sure is helpful, I'd say.

So what am I doing as for a resolution? Why does this even matter to any pedestrian who looks here at my small thoughts, of a mild teenager? In my eyes, it shouldn't, and I believe, it won't be. The trajectory is a sharp one. To be open-minded, and seeking in a forward community. Specifically, its through a job, writing my book, an art business, scholastic vehemence, volunteering, and rising above the popularity staircase. Such a small list, I'm aware. Going above and beyond will add the rubber the goals so needed.

"When obstacles arise, you change your direction to reach your goal; you do not change your decision to get there."

-Zig Ziglar