Journal 5 - Greatest Strength

Stephen Griffin

English Comp.

2/22/11

Journal #5 – My Greatest Strength

   We all go through difficult times in our lives and inevitably it is up to us to walk through the fire on our own.  Once we’ve made it through the flames we may be a little worse for the wear, we may have scars and we may be down and out, but never the less, we’re still breathing.  If we’re breathing then that means we’ll make it to the next day and you never know what promise the next day may hold.  I myself have walked through the flames.  I have my scars, but one thing that I never lost, the one thing that pushed me through to the other side was my self determination.  Life can easily put all the nails in needed to seal your coffin, but with the power of self determination, there’s nothing that can stop you from overcoming the trials and tribulations of this world.

   I’ve recently walked through the fires of divorce.  This is something that I never prepared for.  I never thought it would happen to me.  There was no plan B.  When this whole divorce debacle first started I didn’t have the ability to cope.  The realization that I wasn’t loved by the person that was every second of every minute of my life was an absolute shock and it literally broke me.  I lost all confidence; I had zero motivation and no willingness to see a light at the end of the tunnel.  All I had were questions; questions that would never receive a single answer.  My only option was acceptance.  This is where my self determination came into play.

   When your past, present and future goes up in smoke you’re left with the feeling of standing in the middle of a desert with not a soul to talk to and no sense of direction.  All I wanted to do was sink into the sand and let it all go.  There was just something inside of me that wouldn’t let me do that.  I believe it was my self determination.  I knew that I needed to have some sort of positive existence for my daughter.  She was my motivation and she fueled my determination.  There were many times that I felt that I couldn’t do it, that there just wasn’t any hope, but all I had to do was think of her and I was able to push on just a little further.

   My self determination brought into view my self confidence and my ability to depend on myself.  This is rare.  Most people rely on others for motivation, for praise and sometimes the reason for their existence.  I had to totally rewire my brain.  I didn’t know what I wanted for my life.  I decided to focus on something that I had always wanted to do and something that I really enjoyed doing; writing.  I enrolled in college with the intent of acquiring all the tools necessary to venture into a career of creative writing.  My self determination will play a big role as I move forward through school.

   Although I have no idea what my future holds for me, I know that my self determination will get me through anything that comes across my path.  Every time I’ve wanted to give up, every time negative thoughts run through my mind; “you can’t do this, it’s all too much, just give in.” there’s that still, small voice right in the center of my chest that says, “you can do this, keep going, never give up”.  I have a long road ahead of me and I’m confident that roadblocks are inevitable, but through self determination there’s no hurdle I can’t jump over, no negative I can’t turn into a positive and no impossible that I can’t make possible. 

There’s a hill to climb,

though you don’t have to jump

Fight the war in your mind

Force your eyes to look up   

Wishful Thinking

Wishful Thinking 

  If you’re in a relationship where every opposing point of view, matter of opinion or simple disagreement, causes absolute chaos with consistency, my suggestion is to stop and re-evaluate your situation.  I think picking and choosing your battles is a good way to live, especially when you’re in a relationship.  Most things just aren’t worth fighting about.  I chose to delve into this philosophy just a little… too late.  I can’t begin to tell you how many memories of arguments I’ve had over the years cross my mind day after day.  At the conclusion of each memory I take the palm of my hand and firmly press it against my forehead repeating the word, “idiot…idiot…idiot!”  So many of the arguments I’ve had over the last nine years and even before then were never worth having; not just in marriage, but with family and friends as well.  Perhaps there are ways to avoid ridiculous arguments that if you let continue on day after day, month after month and year after year could one day swim up and bite your relationship in the ass.

  I believe simple arguments that begin to take place within a long term relationship are almost always littered with resentment from previous battles fought within that relationship that were never completely brought to a conclusion or even a previous relationship that had its own slew of resentment issues.  We all have our scars.  I’m well aware of the fact that disagreements will occur within a relationship.  After all, we’re human.  The only perfect individual on this planet is me.  Subsequently, if you’re “not” me, which there’s a pretty good chance that you are not (THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE HIGHLANDER!), you should take some advice from The Divorced Guy (“That’s me…”-hand slightly raised, slumped over, eyes facing the floor) and work towards diffusing the ticking time bomb of an argument that is specifically positioned between you and your partner, ready to explode.  There are a few ways to go about this.  Let me explain.

  Think of it as The Matrix.  We’ve all seen that movie, haven’t we?  The agent fires the bullets at Neo and amazingly he dodges all but one of the bullets.  See the next impending argument as the same scenario.  The next time you feel your nerves begin to twitch or the feeling of anger begin to churn within you because you know exactly what is about to happen, stop.  Slow things down.  See everything in slow motion.  Dodge the bullets.  Drop your pride and your defenses.  You don’t need either one if you’re dodging the bullets.  You may even have access to a time machine.  Go back in time to when you first met your partner.  Remember the rush you felt when you first pressed your lips against one another’s.  Remember how you felt as you were driving home after dropping her off and your joy was uncontainable as Journey reverberated off of your heart with the words…”Don’t stop believin’!”  Remember the sound of “I do” and the sensation of tears running down your cheek.  Remember the walk on the beach with the backdrop of the most beautiful sunset that neither one of you have seen again since that day.  Remember how the candle light reflected in her eyes, and the uncontrollable urge to reach across the table to touch his hand denied all hesitation.  Remember the time when you were with your friends and you shared a moment of laughter over a joke that was only funny between the two of you.  Everyone else in the group stared at you as though you were the two weirdest people ever to be considered “a couple”.  The list could go on and on.  There are moments in a relationship that happen for a reason.  “They” are your defense against meaningless arguments that build resentment and bring down love, trust and friendship; not your ability to win the argument.  You are “best friends” for goodness sake.  Act like it!  Admittedly, some discussions are needed; neither one of you wants to be a doormat.  But even those situations can be approached with love.  Those same memories will work when you’re coming to an agreement on any particular issue.  Realize that nothing in this world can come between real love and genuine friendship.  So before that next ridiculous argument takes place, put on your trench coat and shades, jump into your time machine and go back to the place where all you cared about in this world was your unconditional love for one another.  Remember the word “unconditional”.  It’s an important one.

Do Not Disturb

Stephen Griffin                                                                         

English Comp.

4/19/11

Contrast / Comparison

                                                            Do Not Disturb

  I walk into the library and it is completely silent.  I see a young lady drop her pen and I actuallyhear it hit the ground.  I always thought that was just a myth, but it’s actually true.  This is my first experience being in the library.  I ask the lady at the front desk a question: “How do I log onto the computer?”   She politely explains.  I was so worried that the library would have a few annoying students that wouldn’t be quiet and totally disrupt my concentration, but actually, an unlikely suspect is waiting to surprise me.  Standing at the front desk I scan the floor looking for a couple empty computer stations.  I look for two because my pregnant friend, Ashlie, is taking her time getting to the library (typical).  I make my move.  Still admiring the quiet atmosphere, I find two quaint little computer stations perfect for a lonely divorced guy and his pregnant friend.   “Wow!  I think I like this library,” I tell myself.  I pull the chair out from under the table and position myself for efficient typing.  “I’ll really be able to focus in here.  This is great,” I say with confidence.  I position my fingers on the keyboard.  I’m ready to go.  I type my first letter. “What the hell?!”

  This keyboard is the loudest keyboard in the history of keyboards.  I’m currently trying to concentrate and Ashlie is being so rude by typing extremely loud.  It’s actually so loud that I can’t even hear my own obnoxious keyboard.  Is a dinosaur tap dancing on top of one of the tables?  What is this?  Am I back in the 1940’s, using a typewriter?  The guy next to me is wearing ear plugs for God sakes.  He must’ve known about the ridiculous, annoying noise that is emitted from the library keyboards.  He came prepared!  “Ashlie, I’m going to have to ask you to be quiet.  It’s my turn to emit extremely high keyboard sounds for the whole library to hear!” I whisper.  When I walked in here, I didn’t hear a damn thing.  I’m actually getting a headache now caused by the keyboard as it obliterates my ear drums.  Ashlie and I are discussing how upon further investigation we are now aware that we have the loudest keyboards in the library.  I pause to listen to the keyboard being used by the student next to me; the one with the ear plugs.  I hear nothing.  Why the hell is he wearing ear plugs?  I know!  He knew that if he sat at the computer station he is currently typing away at, he would have to suffer through a painful headache caused by the two computers next to him; the ones that Ashlie and I are using.  Why isn’t his keyboard making any noise?

  I pause to tune into any decibel levels emitted by the keyboard being used next to me by the Ear Plug Man, but I hear nothing.  I study his keyboard.  There’s no difference in appearance.  The only difference that I’m able to pick up on is that his doesn’t sound like a band of wild horses running down the center of the library tables.  It’s like his keyboard has a silencer.  Do keyboard silencers exist?  If they do, Ear Plug Man is using one.  As I become increasingly jealous, I turn to Ashlie who is stationed to the right of me (her chair positioned approximately twelve to fourteen inches away from the desk to accommodate the protruding pregnant belly) and ask, “why do you need to wear ear plugs in the library?  Shouldn’t the volume within a library already be comparable to wearing ear plugs?”  I tell her that he’s definitely wearing them because of our keyboards.  I just can’t help but remember how quiet it was in this library before I sat down and began typing.

  Never the less, I guess I will have to settle for this keyboard.  Now that I’m winding down this monstrosity of an essay, I will be taking two of the Tylenol pills that Ashlie has stashed away in her obnoxious red saddle bag.  Seriously; who needs a purse that big?  Who needs a keyboard this loud?  I shouldn’t have to take pain medication to diffuse a brain aneurism waiting to explode within one of the brightest minds ever to walk into, previously, one of the quietest libraries in all of college.  I feel as though I should apologize to the other students in the library.  I have definitely ignored the “do not disturb” sign hanging from the noses of each diligently working student.  “Fellow students, I would like to formally issue an apology for setting off firework key strokes in this library, undoubtedly bringing an abrupt end to your concentration enabled by peace and quiet.  Ashlie, however, does not apologize, and expects for you to have sympathy for her because she is currently with child.  I do not feel sorry for her.  Therefore, I will include her apology within mine.  I am now pleased to inform you that I am finished with my essay and will return you back to your silence which you maintained once upon a time before I made the decision to enter this library and use this God forsaken keyboard.   Good day to you all.”            

English Comp.

Stephen Griffin                                                                                     

English Comp.

4/18/11

Journal #8

  I’m usually pretty good at describing situations, emotions and expressing my gratitude towards an individual, but journal number eight will put me to the test.  I struggle to find the words to describe what this class has done for me.  Furthermore, I may not ever be able to relay to any one person reading this how thankful I am to have had such a great professor in Ms Warren.  She has motivated me to strive towards something that I love to do, but have always been hesitant to consider even a remote possibility of becoming actuality.  Up until this class started I hadn’t written hardly anything.  I always loved to write when I was younger, but after a few life altering decisions and a change in priorities, I put writing away and considered it to be impractical and unimpressive.  Once I came to a point in life where I found myself writing again as a way to cope with a bad situation, I couldn’t put my pen down.  However, the purpose for which I was using my writing faded away, but the pen stayed in my hand.  After 9 years of writing absolutely nothing, I began to write as if I had never stopped.  With Ms Warren motivating me and complementing me, along with teaching me the basics that come with writing, I have been given something that has opened so many doors for me.  Writing has allowed me to process thoughts, deal with guilt and come to an understanding of my life as it is now.  I have absolutely nothing but praise and gratitude for this class and its professor.

  One of my favorite things about this class is the freedom that Ms Warren gives her students to be able to input their own thoughts and feelings into their writing.  I’m not sure, but there are probably other professors that are slightly more stringent in their essay format requirements, which I have to think hurts their students.  To allow an individual to open up his or her heart and place it onto a piece of paper is nothing short of awesome.  Ms Warren’s style allows her students to be creative, which I believe is a staple point in writing.  It also makes writing fun.  As long as you stay within reasonable range of the given type of essay, Ms Warren allows the students to be themselves and be creative.  That does wonders for an individual.  Personally, after a couple of my essays, I would go back and read over what I had written, and I couldn’t recognize what I was reading.  I didn’t remember writing any of it.  Having the freedom to allow my personality to develop throughout an essay almost literally takes me into another world.  I go into a “zone” as some would describe it.  It’s comparable to driving to work early in the morning and upon arriving to work somehow you don’t remember how you even got there.  Somewhere in between your house and your place of employment, you blacked out, but somehow made it there alive.  That happens to me in my writing.  I go into another world and quite honestly I can get carried away.  But when my imagination combined with my personality takes over, the finished product more often than not surprises me because I can’t believe the stuff I come up with sometimes.  Imagination is the thoughts of your heart.  Ms Warren allowing me to just be myself on paper has broadened my imagination and love for writing.

  I’m actually sad to be leaving this class because it has really opened a lot of doors for me.  I really don’t want to leave.  This was my first semester of college and at the beginning I was very worried that I just wouldn’t like it.  But at the end of the second class I was addicted.  I couldn’t wait for the next lesson and the next writing assignment.  Quite honestly, this class has given me something to focus on while a lot of bad things have transpired around me.  Instead of being constantly depressed and dealing with a tough situation in unhealthy ways, I was able to sit down and write a story that took me into another world.  It was a breathe of fresh air.  This class has given me a sense of purpose, Ms Warren has motivated me to press forward and I admittedly cannot fathom any other possible way of beginning my college career other than starting it in this class with this professor.  I have loved every minute of this class, and I lack the words to express my thankfulness for everything that it and its professor have done for me.  I know that most students see this class as just another class.  But for me, it has been a doorway into another life. 

Information Overload

Stephen Griffin

4/18/11

SLS

“Information Overload”

  I have a long ways to go.  I had no idea how many classes were ahead of me before I walked into the advisors office.  I thought that we might discuss a class or two, but instead we talked about quite a few classes.  Obviously, I didn’t know what to expect.  I relayed to the advisor, Jean Baker, a couple scenarios that I thought might be a possibility for my college career.  I either want to obtain a degree in Creative Writing or become an Elementary School Teacher (1^st, 2^nd or 3^rd grade).  After divulging my thoughts to the advisor, chaos ensued.  Different class titles were called out, and papers with tiny letters and numbers began to print.  Information overload took place.

  As I said, I divulged my secret that I was thinking of becoming an elementary school teacher.  Well, its official, I suck at math.  I have to start from ground zero, MAT0002.  I’m not too excited about that, but if I came out of a divorce and it’s after”math” alive, then I can pass a “gosh darn” math class.  So instead of writing fancy, prolific essays for an English class, I get to use my fingers to count, go through erasers like crazy and ask stupid questions in front of about 30 other classmates.  It’s a good thing I’ve learned humility (thank you divorce, thank you faulty book bag strap, thank you holes that are in all my socks and thank you zipper for being down at a wedding where I’m supposed to be meeting hot, single women….thank you so much.)  I have zero fear of asking stupid questions in math.  It’s a good thing too; I’ll be in a math class every semester for quite some time.  Yes, I gave math an entire paragraph because, math, is my arch enemy. 

  I also mentioned that I wanted to possibly obtain a degree in Creative Writing.  I was told that FSCJ doesn’t offer a degree in that field.  Looks like I’ll have to transfer if I want a degree in Creative Writing.  But I’m not so sure if I want to make creative writing my main focus or if I would like to teach elementary school.  The decision was made to go towards my AA and knock out all of my pre-requisites one by one, and as I move on through college my mind may eventually set on either or.  Perhaps as I move through biology, psychology, geography, etc….my mind may focus on something completely different than what is currently on my mind now.  I’m a blank canvas I suppose. 

  I’m really quite a baby when you think about it.  Every single one of these classes is going to have an effect on me.  Just being in the college atmosphere has already changed me.  I’m more outgoing, eager to learn and ready to take on new challenges.  I never considered being excited about “school” as even a remote possibility.  But here I am, and as I walked out of the advisor’s office I actually felt a rush and a sense of purpose.  I think so many people look to other things in life for purpose that will never provide a sense of accomplishment or self worth.  I did it for a long time.  I committed my life to goals that just never seemed to fit my life.  Maybe that’s why nothing really ever worked out and things turned out the way they did.  I was doing something that wasn’t my intended plan.  I feel different now, and whether its just being plain old naïve or just being overly excited, I just can’t help but feel like I’m moving in the right direction.  I’m finally doing something for me, something that benefits my life and I have to say, it feels great.  I’m sure I’ll reach my breaking point eventually, but I’ve reached that point before.  You just have to put the pieces back together and keep moving forward. 

music

This is some music that I've written and recorded on my cell phone.  The quality is top notch and slightly state of the art. 


http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/23/UryQkYfY_Xo

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/27/v-Q9tdF6exU

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/24/4nhs75wMuRo

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/15/EkTI2G0_SSs

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/6/jUqe8Ml4OJo

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/25/UJzNXMOgm1U

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/21/ALWigUF11QE

http://www.youtube.com/user/MrThetad981#p/u/10/UnK4mscEyaQ

The Lottery

Stephen Griffin

English Comp.

4/4/11

Journal #7

“You’ve just won the lottery.  What are you going to do with it?  How does it affect what you wrote in journal prompt #6?”

  My daughter‘s birthday intertwined with a few other numbers that just so happen to come to mind, find their home on a piece of paper.  I consider all these numbers to be lucky or I just convince myself that they are.  I hear that the lottery requires luck.  “I never win anything”, I tell myself.  Perhaps it’s a way of coping with a piss poor attitude or maybe it’s my way of never having to take the risk of being let down.   I’ve become expectant of mediocre; a habit I’m learning to break.  Sure, Mackenzie is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.  She‘s something that I wasn’t sure would ever find my little world again.  But winning the lottery just seems to be something that is out of my control.  Anything out of my control translates in my brain as “impossible”.  Mackenzie and I have learned to live below our means.  The great thing about our relationship is that money isn’t a factor; it’s not needed to improve what we already have.  Still, we understand that it’s something that’s required to function in this world, so we comply.  However, money these days isn’t very easy to come by.  Everything cost so much.  Bills seem to wash ashore at our feet and flood our lives until we gasp for our last few breaths of air before we finally scream at the top of our lungs “ENOUGH!”  Call it a desperate attempt at a solution, a shot in the dark as they say or maybe, just maybe I actually believe that I have a chance.  I walk out of the store, a piece of paper in hand; lucky numbers fill its void.  The thought “what if?” makes its way from one side of my brain to the other - “what if?”.

  I’m driving home and I’m wondering; “after so many years of non participation, why did I finally decide to purchase a lottery ticket?  I should’ve just bought a Snickers Bar instead.  The delicious taste of a Snickers Bar is worth a million bucks anyways.”  I shrug it off; telling myself, “Mackenzie is all over you about eating healthier, Stephen.  You eat like a five year old.  Forget about the Snickers Bar.  She’ll be less upset about the lottery ticket than she would be if you bought the Snickers Bar.”  “What the hell?  No big deal”, I tell myself as I pull into the driveway.  “Mackenzie won’t be mad at me, I’m sure of that.  I never do anything like this and I know money is tight” I mutter, making myself feel better.  Nevertheless, I step out of the car, close the door, empty out the mailbox full of the latest debt and stash the ticket in my back pocket.  Mackenzie is already home and as I venture forth to the front door I begin to detect the smell of my favorite meal, spaghetti and garlic bread.  I enthusiastically make my way up the front steps.  Reaching the last step, I pause and look through the window as I usually do when I get home from work.  I see the most beautiful woman in the world in “my” kitchen, in “my” house.  Staring through the window in disbelief I ask myself, “what did I do to deserve this?”.   I walk through the front door, place my keys and wallet on the dining room table; subconsciously careful to leave the ticket in my back pocket.  With a smile on my face, I waltz into the kitchen to lend a hand with dinner.  First things first though; I maneuver into position, wrap my arms around her waist, burry my face into her free-falling hair and breathe in the wonderful impossibility that this beautiful woman is in my life.  She smiles, and if not a single syllable escapes her lips, if not a hand of hers finds comfort within the embrace of my hand for the entirety of the evening, that smile will have whispered a thousand words and lain a million soft touches upon my skin.  “A million?” nonchalantly escapes the vault of my brain and verbally manifest it self.  Mackenzie turns and stares at me in confusion.  The confusion is justified.  “Um….I need to check a couple things before dinner, if you don’t mind.  Business….yes, business.  No big deal.  I’ll be right back” I stutter profusely.  Clumsily backing out of the kitchen, I maintain the sporadic, incomplete sentences until I’m stepping into the hallway and retreating to another room.  The confusion never leaves her face.

  Safely tucked away in another room of the house, I remove the ticket wrapped in the store receipt from my pocket as if it were a “Wonka Bar”.  “Oh…give me a break.  This is ridiculous.  I want a Snickers Bar!”  These words formulate in my brain and begin to have their effect as they roll off of my tongue.  Here I am again being expectant of mediocre.  I make myself coral my emotions and regain composure.  I begin to force positive thoughts through my veins, “It’s just one ticket, it’s just for fun and I’ll never do it again.  Besides, I could actually win.  But I probably won’t.  Oh, stop it!”  I turn on the television and wait for every single number other than the ones that I’ve chosen to be called.  I prepare myself to spend the rest of the night mentally lashing myself for not buying the delicious Snickers Bar.  I hear a voice begin to call out numbers.  I pause and the world follows suit. “2.…2.…8...0.…”, my breathing begins to quicken its pace.  In an astonishing miracle of epic proportions, the remaining numbers that in a particular sequential way are a perfect match to the numbers filling the void of my ticket are called off one by one sending my body into shock and a temporary coma.  I am awakened by the smell of garlic bread and spaghetti.  My eyes focus on the same confused stare constructed upon the face of Mackenzie as the one I left her with just a short while ago in the kitchen.  I struggle to lift my head off the floor; eyelids barely open, “Well Mackenzie, I’m very content with my decision to not buy the Snickers Bar.”  The confusion on Mackenzie’s face, yet again, is justified.   

  One month later I’m standing in a two story home.  Beside me stands my wonderful impossibility, Mackenzie.  “We’ll take it!” echoes off the vaulted ceilings and wooden floors, piecing a smile on the realtor’s face.  Months, followed by years pass and I stop at the same store that I purchased my winning lottery ticket.  I’ve never bought another ticket since that day and I wouldn’t on this day either.  I guess I didn’t feel as though I needed to I suppose and probably never would again.  I leave the store with three Snickers Bars.  I pull into the driveway, already having consumed two of the three Snickers Bars that I purchased.  This has become a habit and Mackenzie isn’t a fan of my new addiction.  “It could be worse,” I always tell her.  Nevertheless, I step out of the car, close the door, empty out the mailbox full of the latest bank account statements reminding me that we’re insanely rich and inconspicuously stash the last Snickers Bar in my back pocket.  As I venture forth to the front door I begin to detect the smell of my favorite meal, spaghetti and garlic bread.  I pause and stare through the front window of our new house as I usually do.  I see the most beautiful woman in the world.  As I stand on that top step, peering in through the window, memories of the day Mackenzie and I met in the park begin to materialize.  The images dance around Mackenzie as she goes about preparing dinner in the kitchen, forming a glow of peace and content that draws me to her.  Money isn’t something that was needed to improve what we already had.  I was already the richest, luckiest man in the world.  Sure, we understand that money is needed to function in this world, so we comply.  But as I stare into that window, I know without a shadow of a doubt that everything I need in this world lives within her.  I walk through the door, place my keys and wallet on the dining room table; subconsciously careful to leave the delicious Snickers Bar in my back pocket.  I wrap my arms around her waist, burry my face into her free-falling hair and breathe in the sweet impossibility that this beautiful woman is in my life.  “Sweet?” I nonchalantly whisper with a smile stretched across my face from ear to ear.  Mackenzie turns with a familiar confused stare on her face.  “Is there something in your back pocket?” she asks me with an inquisitive, stern tone of voice.  The gig is up.  I slowly back away; sporadic, incomplete sentences echoing off the vaulted ceilings and wooden floors, “I have a few things to attend to.  Business…yeah, business.  No big deal.”   Continuing with her inquisitive, stern tone of voice “, Stephen Michael!  Did you buy ANOTHER Snickers Bar?”  I nervously laugh, but with confidence reply “No.  Of course not,” as I continue my retreat.  I make a break for it.  She gives chase screaming “, Stephen you are going to RUIN your heart eating those damn things every day!”  “Mackenzie, it’s no big deal.  We can afford a new one!”   

The materialistic possessions of this world pale in comparison to the wonderful impossibility of real love.  - Stephen Griffin -