For the Record: Something That's Been On My Mind

I feel like I should make a note about a post that I recently made.

Realizing I'm Different at 30.

This post was not intended as an attack on anyone, even though, upon rereading it, I see how it may be taken as such.  I still consider this woman to be an amazing individual, and meant her no disrespect.  The writer in me just felt like it was an interesting story.  The man who is trying to grow into a better person was pleased with how different he reacted to a situation, as opposed to how he would have in the past.  And the bottom line of the post was simply to express how I felt.

I see that this female feels like I am not sharing the full story, and one thing I've always tried to be is an advocate of the whole truth.  She did warn me, from the beginning, that I might get hurt in our dealings together.  Very early on, in fact.  I laughed, told her I doubted it, and then started to appreciate her even more.  But I certainly shouldn't be mad in any instance.  I knew what I was getting into.  And the fact of the matter is, I pursued her.  Even though I was aware/had some idea, that I was outside of her comfort zone.  I'm usually the last one to be "catching feelings" so I guess I was just ultimately surprised by the fact that I kind of did.  But I do value her friendship enough to attempt to salvage it.  She's cool as fuck.  I guess I just needed to do some venting.

But I wasn't trying to blow the situation up, or make it a big deal.  What happened simply happened.  Hell, it sounds like something I would have done in the not so distant past.  Okay, in all honesty, possibly in the future, given the right situation.  Lol.  But that post wasn't supposed to be about right or wrong, and I see that it came off that way.

So to you, C.E., I take this opportunity to apologize.  And I use your initials only so you are aware that I'm speaking to you, earnestly.  All the Sherlock Holmes of the world, who'll attempt to figure it out, the hell with them.  (And yes, I realize that is pretentious, as if anybody cares that much about my boring life..lol)

I was simply attempting to write about something personal, without taking it personal, and I failed.  You are not at fault here.  I am.   Hopefully, you'll accept my apology.

Okay, that is all.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Maybe This Is What This Night Was Waiting For

Stumbled across this song while up being a scavenger of the Web.  It was such a gut wrenching punch to the emotional stomach.  It explains so many feelings that have gone ignored.  Interesting.

Felt the need to extend this post a bit here.  I feel like there are a few sets of eyes that should be looking at me bitterly.  I acknowledge what I did wrong.  I see all the pain I've caused.  I am genuinely sorry, but realize now that sorry does little to take away pain.  Now I just want to be a better person.

Hopefully with that, comes peace.


Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

These Sleepless Nights

Usually my chest feels like a voltmeter.  
        Measuring something untamed and electric.  
The edges of my heart's beats feel twinged with the pain of a coming shock.   
        There is something in me that refuses to rest.

This is a point in time that has played out in multiples, for several years of my life.
This restlessness has become expected companion.
I think what I find most interesting is how much of a ritual it's become.

There are always thoughts.


Most people who get to know me are informed early on that I am constantly thinking.  Many smile and take this to mean that I am a well-enlightened young man.  I smile at this complimentary view.  But few, if any, every really grasp what I mean.  I guess I should say, I am a compulsive thinker.  Right now, as I type this, I'm thinking of far too many things:
          D.H. Lawrence quotes.  A couple of lines from an old Fugees song.
                  Reasons I'm not sleeping.  Badly wanting a cigarette.
          That interesting woman, named Sarah, who I've been meaning to call for days.
              My father. My son.  More reasons I'm not sleeping.
          The fact that if I supposedly hurt my mother's feelings last night, why was I the last to know.
                      Jennifer Egan's writing.  A scene from a Kid Cudi video.
                      Even more reasons I'm not sleeping.
          That other interesting woman, named Toya, who I've been meaning to call back for days.

And all of this came to me within the first turns of my restlessness, so by the time I made up my mind to get up and type this, there were too many thoughts to remember or list.  Movies I've seen.  People I've noticed or talked to.  Blogs I've recently read.  Old poems I find myself quoting.  Songs that I hear playing out in my head.
Yes, as I write this, it has a rhythm, not much unlike my restlessness.  It moves and I move with it.

In these moments, I am a flood, and my mind becomes the dampened streets.  Later on, perhaps when the first flecks of sunlight begin to pour through the windows, I will have surrendered to every thought.  And none of it will interest me the same.  Empty, needy, but somehow at peace, then I will find my sleep.

They say the best fights are always the ones that happen within.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet