A brief update from under the blue collar

Tonight was day three of chipping my ticket to the factory man for awhile until the next musical endeavor takes off into exploration. Needless to say, it has brought both the worst and the best from me. In my fits of frustration, I become this cursing and saliva spewing monster that absolutely wants to break everything and everyone in half. But on the other hand, I have become far more on point with my mental note taking.

 More and more lately, I feel extremely pulled back from existence itself and feel as though I am peering into life through a window on the outside. My eyes are becoming a camera lens for those on the other side to spectate, but my body is tossed, turned and broken by the machines of this world. I'm typing this right now with scratched and irritated hands, who are longing to hold an instrument again. As cliche as it may sound, I am just not cut out for anything but my music. Call me a bum, call me lazy, call me what you will; I know who I am and what I am best at.

I am a vessel thats floating out on a turbulent sea, and the only thing that keeps my paddles sputtering is passion. If I am not passionate about something, I'm very apathetic towards that particular task or object. The only thing that gets me through walking out each and every night is this fact:


THIS IS ONLY TEMPORARY.


My eyes are fixed on getting back on the streets and moving with the Spirit and singing songs, but in the mean time I am completely blown away by how humans work. The factory is clouded with crushed dreams floating aimlessly amongst the blood, sweat, and fears. Yes, fears. A fear of being presented as vulnerable to a rookie or another superior. A fear that this might be the rest of someones life. A fear that you just might not be strong enough to make it to the end of a shift.

There is so much false confidence in that place;  it basks in a stew of machismo and terrible Taz tattoos. The old Ian would find this absolutely depressing and at parts, it admittedly is. But there is a new birth in my mind chambers, and that is to peer in more in depth into peoples lives. Not in some creepy BTK killer sort of way, but in a fashion of being fascinated by anyone struggling to keep afloat day by day. Our existence is just one ongoing web of networking. Each string of silk with its own story to tell and it is absolutely beautiful.

Perhaps one day I will get over my back pains and hatred for the blue collar job and realize that life is such a complex thing...to the point where a mind like mine shall always pull some lever of inspiration from SOMEWHERE in this life.

But with that being said, I'm going to go fall asleep for a few hours before I head back in for 'nother round.

Le sigh.

Until next time (whenever that is),

Shlomodoyle

What a world, what a world!

Welp, I've gone done it; I've sold my soul to the blue collared man for a factory job to "get by". When one sits back and imagines what the actual concept of "the American dream" is, what the reality has become is quite startling. We have become a society in which, if we were to choose one phrase to define us, it would be the words "I GUESS".  I GUESS it's okay to put a halt to my ambitions for a barely steady paycheck. I GUESS it's okay to flush my beliefs down a drain of shame. I GUESS it's okay to settle for a lifestyle that I never fathomed in my youth.

We are truly intriguing creatures when it boils down to our nature. When we are children, our minds run our bodies off of our dreams. As we grow, our bodies begin to take the ropes of our dreams. Our flesh enraptures our spiritual minds and hearts, tangling it in vines of convention. What's good for right now? What is the best option RIGHT NOW? There is a generational fear of long term; uncertainty has become an albatross that will eventually break our bodies into the ground. Writhing in pain and attempting to scream with mouthfuls of dirt, we will settle. We will adapt. We will adapt to anguish if it means we can get by for the time being. In all honesty, this has completely numbed my mind from thinking about it so much today.

Faith in our Creator and hope for a better day seems like a long off dream that we only held in ignorance. This IS a reality, but has been sold out for another. We sold off our Jesus to be some cartoon character dancing in our minds when we let Him pop up now and again. Like some toy we can take out at our own discretion, but stow away in our attics to only talk about Him to our grandsons and daughters. Like some fairy tale without an agreed upon ending..this reality has become one thing: a joke.

On our tour of the factory place today, the people working there looked like they wanted to shove a shotgun in their mouths over what they are doing with their lives. Will there be change? Seldomly. We settle for a paycheck for one piece of percieved "reality". We've given up on hope! we've given.up.on.hope!

Most of my blogs that discuss a relationship with God end up usually being a very positive outlook towards the end. But in today's society, we have news channels that shoot tragedy into our eyeballs and gossip that tears our ears off of our very own heads. We thrive off of negativity to get by and it becomes known as "keeping it real".

Really? Keeping it real?

Yes, this world can be a terrible place. But why is it a terrible place?

Here's the catch: we made it that way. We made our own filth. We made our own hell.

For thousands of years with our separations, our "religions" and our wars waged amongst eachother. We've dug in a deep grave on this planet, but we have a Father reaching down to get us. But the worms and the dirt have become familiar faces, so we make it a homely comfort to stay.

This is our pain, and we have a way out. Will you open your spiritual mind? Or will you keep the door closed?


If my childhood self could see me now, he'd kick my shins with great swiftness due to me putting my dreams on hold so I can "keep it real" and "get by".


Deep down, I feel him tugging and punching; it's killing me.

 

It's that time again..

Years ago when I used to force myself to give post sacrifices to the blog gods, I would always become frustrated with how my writings would seemingly transform mid-type. I would have these huge elaborate paragraphs floating around in my mind with the intention of impressing my readers with how "intelligent" and "dignified" I sounded. What usually comes out, though, is a sporadic burst of cerebral vomit that pours out through my fingers and onto the internet. Point being: I have accepted the fact that I write like a high sugar induced child with a severe case of A.D.D. and I've stopped caring.

That being said, I have some thoughts I'd like to pour from my think pot to your curiosity bowls!

Spiritually speaking, for two years I've hit the ground running when it comes to my witnessing and ministering. Taking it to the streets, my education has come a good deal from my failures as a believer and from shutting my trap. As followers of Christ, a good deal of witnessing the gospel is first listening to what our fellow men and women are even saying. Religion, for the past God knows how long, has been more of a political science study rather than an actual faith structure. Holy wars, jihads, culture wars; you name it, we've done it all. Peer into the tear filled eyes of our Christ and you can tell we've been running this whole spirituality thing all wrong.

But what has honestly boggled both my mental and spiritual mind is that our faiths are becoming other things as well! Advertising campaigns to get you to come buy merchandise, for example:

"What's up guys? We're a Christian metalcore band! We aren't going to preach or anything, but we just wanted to let you know that we believe that Jesus is a cool guy and God does stuff. Cool. Now that's out of the way, we have shirts in the back and our bass player will have sex with you for taco bell and beer money. God bless!"

Obviously, that is a bit exaggerated..but not to the point where one would think.

Seriously..

PEOPLE ACTUALLY BUY INTO THIS!!

I'm sorry, but that was not the life of Jesus Christ. Never was, never will be. If you are going to proclaim the name "Christian"...live it; don't sell it for your fleshly desires. I'd also like to note that I'm not speaking on a soapbox in vain, I was a part of this machine for quite some time. I lived it, and it rips my heart out.

Now that I've offended a good deal of young "Christian" bands, let me take this to a completely other spectrum of faith: relationships. Very recently, I've begun to see a  quite startling trend amongst young believers in this area. Belief in Christ is becoming a mating competition to latch you a significant other for what turns out to only be a brief amount of time. It is honestly getting to the point where the next favorite pick up lines will sound something like:

"Hey girl, guess how humble I am? I am sooooo humble! Jesus is my number one! God is so good! Here, let me give you a Kinko's copy of a list of all the awesome stuff I've done that half relates to Jesus. Did you know my dad's a pastor? I've read the Bible like 10 times! Aren't I just so humble and loving? So...can I have your number? No? Well..here's mine in case you change your mind :) :) :)"

(Let it be noted that I was cringing the entire time I wrote that. My pain is your pleasure, dearest reader)

If you sell the name of Christianity to either get someone to buy your cds, bumper stickers, and shirts or to attract a warm body to place next to your trembling one for about twenty minutes: you've lost sight of the real Jesus. You have lost sight of the real and living God.

What is faith without deeds? What is love and healing without the fruit to show it?

Bloggingly yours,

Shlomo

Happy?

There are days and long drawn out nightly tides where I just get pale on my insides from the sounds of the circus around me. Come one, come all! See our newest addition to this sadist pleasing menagerie! If this is what you call friends and if this is what you call family..then take my ticket; I'm cashing out and I hope you know where to stick it, because I can't be a part of an empty shelf life start to what we call "the American dream". Trains shooting off steam from hot bouncing coals; taking away lovers to places that even in your old age, you'll never know. That's just it! You'll never know! Where did they go, oh where did they go!? It just goes to show that what our youth had in store was nothing more than the precious whore we call wasted time. Oh, if only I had a dime for every second I've wasted on nights like this! And if I could grow trees from the veins in my wrists, I'd pray to God that my fruit litter would taste ever so bitter to your vivacious tongue.

But then again, there are moments where I wish to just find a place to rest. So despite the pulling in my chest, I give in to the original sin that is my human skin and crush any ambition left in my dying eye sockets.

Emptying out my pockets, I'll place on the table all I have that is stable to be just another machine in your ever so pristine depiction on what it is to be content.

I hope this makes you happy, because it's killing me.

Dreamer

Nostalgic smells and familiar romps
Childish laughter and puddle stomps
Jelly jar eyes and a sleepy sunset simper;
Rest your weary, weary freckled head.

Lightbulb chains and canaries calling
Celebration dances for rain that's falling
Wispy blue skies above a whisted whimper;
The best known words are those left unsaid.

An open door and flowing barren sheets
Kitchen drawers and honey suckled beets
My pulsating heart has gone to a listless limper;
Stumbling over to an empty bed.

Simply memories now, call me a dreamer
but in your glare; repulsed but remaining soothing
I swear to all that is holy, warm and moving;

I still see her.