Ξ August 1st, 2009 | → 0 Comments | ∇ 1 |
not much of a blog as more a memorial. today is the day that started forever. all thanks to one simple message on face book
hey stranger
Between Chris Schmidt and You
Chris Murphy
July 31 at 6:21pm
don’t be mad, but i lost my cell phone in mexico…long story, lol. but as soon as you get this text me os something so i can have your number back. it’s been too long
Chris Schmidt
July 31 at 11:43pm
hey bitch
i see how it is. you leave me high and dry for over a week and then expect me to come crawling back to you. Well let me tell you mister, you know i will. lol haha
(insert phone number here)
i expect a text soon. or else. 
and a year later, here we are today. here’s to a year of adventure and intrigue. here’s to a year no one will ever take from us. here’s to a year that will mark the first of many. i love you baby.
Ξ July 16th, 2009 | → 0 Comments | ∇ 1 |
the darkness is your savior
the shadows hide the tears
and voices once familiar seem to fade throughout the years
the bottles nearly empty
and your eyes are almost dry
yet life is never peaceful, no matter how you try
when you take away the danger
and you take away the thrill
you find there’s only one way out, through drug or drink or pill
you’ve lost them all who once cared
and lost your will to live
and you’ve learned the fact that now they’re gone, you’ve nothing left to give
when you put someone before you
their needs before you own
you find that life is empty when you find that someone gone
you spend your whole life trying
to help those that you can
when all you’ve really done is make yourself a hollow man
Ξ May 29th, 2009 | → 0 Comments | ∇ 1 |
This is life.
Life is painful. it just is. theres no way to fix that. the sky is blue, birds fly, fish swim, and life is painful. it is empty, hollow, and lonely. this is not up for argument, simply fact. we are lost in the size of its entirety and confounded by the intricacies of the most trivial details.
So many people spend their lives trying to rationalize the idea that life is fairy tales and happy endings. that the pain and suffering are avoidable. they trick themselves into being happy. instead of facing the truth, they keep on the facade that everything will be ok. a personal favorite of mine being small talk. everyone makes it, some learn to master it, but every single time someone does, it starts with the same question.
“Hey Chris, how are you?”
simple enough. harmless enough. nothing is implied, and the only thing ever expected back is some form of “oh not too bad”, followed quickly by “and you?” not too bad? that doesnt sound good. and really? not too bad? you’re stressed out about money and bills and work and friends and your social life and… not too bad? “if you tell a lie often enough, and keep repeating it, people will belive you” a quote coincidentally attributed to multiple men each of whom truly understood what they were saying and that still holds true today. if we keep saying “not too bad” then maybe it actually wont be so bad. there is a certain satisfaction in saying exactly that. sometime we even brag or embelish to make it seem like we actually are constantly happy with new and exciting adventures everyday.
Michael knew better. you see, he’d always known better. life was painful. while others set goals, he could see failure before it happened. his day was mundane and boring. blah blah blah, he knew he was living a cliche. and the last thing he ever thought he’d write about was himself. dont be emo, he say to himself. dont mope, its unattractive. assertiveness is sexy! he’d start countless posts with a such good intention, and then realize he was just being whiney and stop. he’d turn the computer off and crawl into bed defeated at the foresight of his failure. even now, as he writes this very moment locked away in his room, he fears he’ll never publish the post he’s writing. “it wanders. its wordy. ive strayed from my main idea. what was my main idea? why do i have to have a main idea? why do i have to follow fucking rules,” he’d say to himself. he’d get frustrated. his words still locked in his heart and head, he go to bed silent repeating his feeling over and over only with color and music and light and sound and touch..but never words. he tried so hard to show people the beauty in life that he saw. to show that even in the pain, you can be happy. but no one could see life his way though. the images held different meanings. the sounds of home werent the same. not everyone knows the lyrics to the songs he sings. how much he wished he could share it with someone. only in his words could he truly be read and understood and unoppressed. only in the words he never let himself say.
But tonight, tonight was different. he was writing for a reason. he is a man on a mission. he has a story to tell. so instead of saving what he wrote and sending it into the pile of amassing unfinished stories and thoughts, he’d try something new. he’d break the rules. he’d tell you the story of his life. “Tonight will be the epilogue. tomorrow,” he says, “page one…”
Ξ September 23rd, 2008 | → 1 Comments | ∇ 1 |
i hate beginnings. I never know how to start anything, including journal entries. so i wont have one. That takes care of that problem. Ironically, it took me 7 different beginnings to come up with this one. Efficient, i am not.
I’m kind of feeling the urge to let my fingers do the talking tonight. Let the words come out faster than i can understand them as i watch each letter popping into existence on the screen. Letters are no longer just words but are thought, directly amassed into substance by the awkward typing hands of a 2:00am post. they fumble a lot in this light, losing their place on the keys, searching for a sign that they’re home again.i bet a lamp would fix that. Note to self: buy lamp.
im not sure why im writing tonight, actually. i guess its different somehow. in the past, id think of a really interesting topic to go on about, hoping someone out there was reading it, falling in love with the words before the face but never actually got around to writting it. but tonight, i really think that im writing for me. its encouraging to watch the page slowly fill with my text, proving i really did have something to say and express tonight and have this text as my proof. Maybe that’s why the words are flowing smoother. or maybe ive just finally lost my mind. ive come to be unusually comfortable with the idea of either one being the case. thats only slightly unsettling 
I’ve noticed something these past couple weeks than i normally do. Everywhere i go, the world seems to be falling apart around me. i cant seem to find the good in people any more. true story, friday night, im just getting out of a seriously teeth griding eye twitching shift at work. Out the door in 3…. 2…..1……Cigarette lit ipod in and im coasting down North Avenue. half a block later, bam. car slams into another car. people get out, they start screaming. name calling. cursing. its kinda like being back at work actually. again, unsettling. i no sooner cut the corner to head downtown when this clown car of black girls starts opening and closing there door, slurring ebonics that even i couldnt make out. Drunk. stumbling in the street drunk. fight each other nearly getting hit by on coming cars. its no wonder i smoke! As i walked down the street, honest to god, i expected to turn my head and see massive fires sweeping the north side as mass hysteria broke out. looting pilaging, the works. armagedon old school style. as if my day hadnt been reminder enough of just how fucked up people can be (that works on so many levels for me), my normally peaceful walk home now must become some fucked up melodramatic bullshit. i miss having faith in people. and hope for them to become something better than what they are. people i thought of once as an opportunity to learn from and grow with have become shallow, self absorbed, and too fucked up for help.Not sure how one goes about fixing something like that. logically now is the best time for me to find the answer to that though. autumn is starting to make its prescence known here on a pretty regular basis. Every september it happens. i sigh a little longer, walk a little slower, and learn to revel in that brisk pre-sunray morning sky.
Fall has always had a special place in my heart. i lie to people and tell them my favorite season is winter. it just sounds cooler, shut up. thinking about it now, the weather is perfectly cold with only a slight reminder of frost to come. theres energy in the air constantly around me, giving me sources of emotions to draw on. ive come to find that every fall i find myself rosey cheeked and smiling in a photograph taken just before dusk. ive got quite a few here, saved in a hidden folder miles under my desktop. it was always a good sign, those pictures. to me they symbolized 2 things. 1, that as the sun set that day, it was a happy ending. something all too many of us strive for. and 2, that somehow, looking back on the moment the picture was taken, i didnt even feel the cold because i was too caught up in the person i was with. Note to self: bring this up at next therapy session, psycho.
im starting to doubt whether im even going to post this thing or not. i mean, simply typing this out has helped me sort out a lot of my problems. but if i type it, and i can help one person feel a little more okay in this fucked up world, i should just forgo the possibility of embarrassment and post it. ….i guess that means i cant say i dont see the good in anybody. SOME people still exist, if only in my mind, that give me hope. which , i might add, is about as efficient as it is logical. Me, being incredibly mopey and introverted, doesnt seem the perfect opportunity to make a substantial friendship out of anyone.
I think thats why i love halloween. every year i get so caught up in being alone that i dont really have my self confidence. but on halloween, you can fake anything you want, and no one can tell. behind your mask, its so easy to lie. thats why i wore one last year. hiding the look on my face underneath. you’ve got to try it, its a little bit liberating. and a bit sweaty. never wear face paint under one. trust me on this.
well, if i intend to get any of what i have planed for tomorrow accomplished, ive got to head to bed. big goals for such a little day. though we’ll see how many actually come to fruition. maybe the dreams will stop tonight and let me sleep a little bit. high expectations for just a little day… but i have hope.