What is giving? In a relationship sense, giving goes beyond basic human consideration or being a good roommate. Beyond taking someone else's plate when they've finished dinner, or hanging up his or her jackets when they've dropped it on the floor. It's sharing thoughts, and feelings, and being genuinely interested in hearing another's. It's surprising someone with a key lime pie. Or finally going to the stupid guy movie because, though not a fan of guy movies, his company will be more enjoyable than the movie will be unenjoyable. Giving is, even though you don't really want to go for a walk down to the park, it will make her happy. Giving is putting another's happiness before your own, because causing them joy brings you joy. Just as causing them pain brings you pain. Giving is also being grateful, and acknowledging, when someone has done a household chore you weren't looking forward to doing. And saying thank you every single time someone drops you off for work, every day. Giving is finding a safer spot for your significant other's prized possessions -- antique works of Shakespeare, or reptiles. It's having someone's clothes packed for an emergency trip before they can even ask. Giving is a dozen attempts to hang the TV properly. Giving is being willing to run around Disney with her and her crazy sister, 21 and 15 respectively, for a princess and pirate party. Giving is sitting on the trunk of your car at 2:30 in the morning cause you read she was crying on her kitchen floor with no where to sleep, debating on telling her you're outside if she wants to talk (albeit a little stalkerish). Giving is trying melatonin, with little hope of it working, cause you know she loves you and worries about Tylenol PM. Giving is nagging her (them) to go to bed after she's (they've) fallen asleep on the couch, to the point of frustration, but you just want her (them) to be more comfortable in the bed. It's also knowing that being asleep on the couch, near you, is sometimes more important than being in the comfy bed, away from you. Giving is the harder stuff too, taking is too easy. Giving is sometimes realizing that yes, you do need to stew for a bit. But anything more than an hour is detrimental to fixing the problem. And sometimes you also need to yell (10 minutes, TOPS). Then you act like an adult and deal with it. Sometimes giving is telling yourself you're overreacting, to take a deep breath, and go get a kiss instead of continuing to stew. And sometimes it's swallowing the lump in your throat and saying, "I'm struggling." Or "this has been bothering me," or "I'm sorry." Giving is also adding to "I'm sorry," "this is how I'll try to be better." Giving is accepting certain things, or people, for what or who they are. Giving is indeed standing strong and saying, "you picked me, this is who I am," because no one can change you, but realizing that some suggestions of change are for the better. Giving may also mean coming to the end of your nagging and saying, "that change will come when he/she is ready to," making it that much sweeter. Giving is not "I'm going to do what I want, when I want." Giving is realizing someone is depending on you, or thinking about you, or holding dinner for you. Giving is knowing that someone just needs to see your face to feel better, so you put on the sweetest, most comforting, most supportive expression for when they do. Giving is sharing your plans, for 10 years from now, for next summer, and for this evening. And to speak about those plans in an inclusive manner, like you can see that person there with you.

i live my life alone, everything around me is so beautiful
yet i hate all of it. nobody gets what they deserve.

laguna beach a place so lovely yet unenjoyable for me,
endless thoughts of a neglected childhood. haunt me.
there is no closure with a lacking family but acceptance with a wiser child.

im turned on and off, seeking a person to fill the void that gradually gets bigger with every disgusting thought

nobody can fill a void quite as big as mine
not my father, a figure who was never there. and doesnt have to be.
who loves his children with doubt theyre his children.
he walks to the bar then goes to his house.
halfway house.
he loves alcohol because it fills his void to the brim.

not my mother, who failed to raise me. who gave me up.
actions speak louder than words, she gave me neither.
back and fourth rahab pulled her in like a rip tide
she stuggles till she gives in.
7 years of my life spent together only to give up again.
she dances around reading the bible
then punches me in the face
i can see her brain tangled in confusion
she loves drugs because it fits her void like the perfect puzzle piece.

not my grandpa who raised me, filling my void a quarter full.
a man of few words
cancer drains the quarter filled
rest in peace, the greatest man i ever knew.

not my grandma who raised me, so compassionate and humble.
she flys as far as she can go
struggling and alone she spends every penny she receives
she cant help it.
she fills my void less and less with every minute she grows older
unable to hold a conversation, she cant remember.
i love her so much.

not my little brother, whos unable to talk to me.
shielded by a thick layer of our moms alcohol induced breath,
he doesnt understand and doesnt have a chance
manipulated
hes dragged out by the rip tide by my moms side.
3 years pass by, not a word spoken, not a picture seen.
i feel his void brewing only to awake
when he is a wiser child

not my bestfriend, who grew up on the sidelines
who does whatever she can to help and comfort me
who shares her house and bed with me.

nothing is ever enough and i hate myself.

my one night stands overfill my void
but i wake up with it stretched out and empty
only to feel sadness roll over my entire body like a soft expected wave of freezing ocean water
i get tense and sick from my recent meal.

i collapse onto my bed, im a wiser child but an empty one
laguna beach am i living "the life"?
i can see the sun set behind the ocean from my bed
a beautiful view but i hate it.

76 degrees and sunny
the weather feels like ****

Your on the outside looking in,
It's sad how unmotivated She has been
She's making her way slowly
The ride is getting coldly unenjoyable
For Shes no longer able,
No longer stable,
No longer capable

But your just on the outside Looking in
Every now and then,
Shes wonders what you see
Is it hard trying to be who She be's?
For Once she lost the key,
She payed the cost

Without a key,
Beauty is the only thing she is unable to see
That's why when you look in the eyes of "she"
You wish to run and flee
For her eyes are contained with what looks to be;
The Red Sea  

Her heart is black and blue
For all the bolts are unscrewed
She wishes for everything to undo
But your just on the outside looking at her doom

I like to come in
and lie on my bed
With the window open
and blinds all the way up
To let the sun warm me up
and the breeze make me curl
Into a lopsided ball
with a blanket on my feet.

I like to stay there for a few hazy minutes
To think about all the things
I don’t want to do
And to summon the energy required to perform tasks
That require so little physical force
It’s embarrassing.

I like to think that I deserve a break
Because I woke up so early and had to face the cold
Of this winter that produced so little snow
So I roll over and grab a connecting device.
I like to lie on my stomach or side
While looking through pictures of beautiful places
And beautiful people
And beautiful ideas
To tell myself that’s where and who I want to be.

I like to believe that staying here
Mostly doing unenjoyable tasks
That make my body and mind feel bad
Is going to pay off in a few years.
I like to imagine that I am brave
Enough to admit to myself
That this is not really for me
Because I am not happy.

I like to put the thoughts
Of the unfortunate facts
Concerning my approaching death
Out of my head.
I like to understand that I am being too dramatic
On the subject of my life and my feelings
Because in the big picture
what I want
is not important
So I should come back
and lie on my bed.

Going back on hiatus... Sorry guys. Just feeling really stuck again. I don't have much to say and I'm really doubting my writing and music. I feel like I've set a kind of standard for myself and every time I don't hit that mark, I get really frustrated and end up quitting and being upset and it's honestly not worth it anymore. Writing and music are two things that I really enjoy and plan on always enjoying, but if I don't take this break, I might find that it's becoming unenjoyable and quit for good and that would be tragic because I'm really not so great at much else. So this is temporarily good bye... Again... I'll be on now and then, but just not posting for a while.

If I pick any archetype to validate my purpose; yes, I soon grow tired of teaching. However I’d like to think that I indulge in all therefore nothing ever grows old or become unenjoyable.
If you rid yourself free from labels, you are then signing up to be all. If you are all, people will choose your archetype. So if you essentially want to create change through love, all you have to do is express love, and whatever a person perceives your love as being for them is the role you temporarily play.
If it is wisdom someone is seeking, you’ll naturally give it.
If it is laughter, you’ll naturally give it.
If it is guidance, you’ll naturally give it.
It is when you try to become a role that you struggle to be efficient with communicating, simply because the conversation is lacking balance thus lacking a mutual understanding thus becoming a one sided conversation.
Remember there’s never a point to be made, however there is always a point existing just long enough for us become aware it.

i look at you
and see the past
a past
so, so unenjoyable
hurtful
but you're here
now
and sincere
or the sincerest
i've ever known
which could be
a falsity
because
the you
that i'd thought i'd known
is
unknown
to me.

i cant enjoy this
i wish i could

but every time i finish
i wish i had never started

my nail beds
are a bed of nails

****** and painful
and entirely unenjoyable

The bass player for Korn
Reginald “Fieldy” Arvizu
Plays in a distinctive style
Using the slap bass technique
By down tuning the bass guitar
To the point where there is enough slack in the strings
That they hit the fretboard while playing
Slapping the bass
He also increases the treble significantly
Accentuating a recurring clicking sound throughout their recordings
Some people view this positively
I feel it gives the music more texture
Like putting a little pepper on the song
But some hate it
They say it makes Korn’s music unenjoyable
And annoying
A little clicking noise
Makes their music instantly horrible

For some people it’s never good enough
They will always be listening for your small clicking noises
And demand you change at their whim
Ordering you to tighten your strings until they snap
They say Fieldy *****
They say Fieldy is a ****** bassist
While never putting out any content themselves
So they can throw rocks from the dark
Forcing one to ask themself
Who am I making this art for?
The fickle and ignorant masses
Or the jaded and pretentious elitists?
The answer must be neither
Art must be made for the self
With the hope that others will be able to relate
And whatever your craft is
Some people will appreciate the hard work and dedication
And some people will hear a small clicking sound
You just have to slap their face
With the way you slap your bass

Its been a day
One of those gray
Boring
Days
A day where the rest
Doesnt feel needed
And the taste in your mouth
Of misery and doubt
Doesnt leave
Its been one of those days
Where every word you write
Every word you hear
Every word you read
Is just mush
Gray soggy mush
And everything that you love
Is faded
Unenjoyable
Boring
Its been one of those days
Where want and need
Are one in the same
And the lack of everything
Drills in your skull
Pounding
Knocking away
Reminding you of your prison
Of how you're trapped
Until the next day
Or the next
Its like you're always looking forward
To the next big thing in your life
But sometimes you stop
And lay down
And the whole world turns gray
And theres nothing you can do
So you wait
Until the next big moment
Then you do it all over again

I'd rather write my entire life and get little wages than live a rich and unenjoyable life