Archive for the ‘ Inspiration ’ Category


Eurisko means I discover in Greek. It feels fitting to start a post with that idea.

I wish life could be more focused on the journey, the discovery, instead of the things that seem to be most important to modern civilization.

Gandhi said be the change you want to see.

I have found that it is difficult to be the change when it seems like your voice barely registers. My signal is lost in the ‘verse.

I would like to note here that as soon as I typed Gandhi’s name my shuffle went to Chaiyya Chaiyya from the Dil Se soundtrack.

Auspicious, no?

I’m currently sitting on my steps, giant cup of espresso in hand, staring into a gloriously blue winter sky. I dislike winter principally because it’s normally so gray. All of the color leached from the landscape, cold and barren.

It’s a season that I’ve never become accustomed to. I became self-aware in Central America, the most formative moments of my boyhood spent in the oceans and jungles of Panama. As such, I dislike intensely the cold of much of North America.

There are many things that we are forced to accept in this life. Chance and circumstance serve to circumscribe our existence.

I’ve never become accustomed to limitations either. I will not, can not, rest on past laurels; may I never be forced to lower my grasp from the stars. Nothing worthwhile comes easily or without price. That’s the nature of life, of our lives, we all must pay for the things we want, in some way or other.

Price. When does it become too much?

When does the cost of discovery become too much to be borne?


“She was cheating on me, ripped a hole in me through which you could see tiny angels weeping.”

– Weeds

I like that quote, last year on this day I had an eerie feeling, a not-quite suspicion that something like that was looming. I was right.

Sometimes being right isn’t much fun, but my life has improved immeasurably since that day.

In other news my twenty-twelve marathon-training shoe decision has been made:


My Nike tweet-pledge:

1/1/12 7:29 PM
I will: Run more. Run harder. Run longer. Run stronger. Run as if my life depends on it. Because it does. #MAKEITCOUNT

Keyword: Intensity

I am now writing a video game for my application to bioware. Apparently I actually don’t have enough on my plate.

But who could pass up a chance to work with the writers and artists that created mass effect and dragon age. I mean seriously: Casey Hudson and Drew Karpyshyn!

I also learned something new today, apparently my general intensity has a basis in my physiology, perhaps basis is too strong, but there’s a link:

I have merged heart and head lines, a simian crease. Combined with whorled fingerprints. Apparently these traits allow me to put my whole heart and mind into everything I do.

How did I get so lucky?

The rest of this post has been sitting in my upload cue, forgotten and forlorn, ignored and alone. The emotions and thoughts behind the words are long since flown but I’ll share it with you anyway.

I haven’t had much to say lately. A bit off my normal plot for sure.

Consistently, constantly busy is the mantra.

But I’ve been noticing an air of sick desperation on the locals. It’s bad everywhere right now, this is something new and while I’ve got suspicions, I’m not quite certain what to make of it.

Signs, symptoms, symbols

This year has been an odd mishmash. Everything seems to flow together into one long memory, not a lot of signposts to signify significance. Usually when I look back I can pick out important things, they pop up in the visual representation of my life’s timeline that I draw in my mind. Two-thousand-eleven is a different monster. There is smooth road for most of the memory, some rough patches of broken pavement, but not rough enough to raise a detour sign, there have been people and places that have barely registered on my sub-concious. I’ve closed roads myself, opened others thought closed but only a few – so few – have become real memories.

This is odd for me, I remember everything, detail to a point where I wish I couldn’t a lot of the time. I can recall, with perfect clarity, conversations I had in preschool. I remember things about my early life that I shouldn’t be physically able to recall. My father told me that at four hours old I was lying in my cradle touching the ends of my fingers together in a pattern. I have simian-creases on both my palms.

Look it up if you’re bored. It’s in no way normal.

My point is this, what was it about this year that made it so…horribly average that I don’t want to recall most of it?

There were many good things this year, I’m not denying that, but I don’t have enough memories to populate a years worth of living in my mind when I think of twenty-eleven. I’m not certain how to feel about that but my gut-instinct, knee-jerk-response says: I don’t like this.

I’m looking forward to the upcoming year, I’ve got a lot going on, a lot of work ahead and I’m genuinely excited about it. But I can’t quite escape this nagging feeling that something isn’t quite right with my lack of signposts from the last year.

B.A.S.E-ics of Survival

Motivation, I remember you, good of you to return.

In other news a very recent conversation (Danke, Erin) revealed to me how very much I epitomize the dual nature of a Gemini. In the sense that the things that I am, the things that I do, the things that I love are all things that are most generally mutually exclusive. I’ve always known that I have some conflicting interests, however the stars weren’t really much of a consideration until that convo.

I am a theorizer. I am a writer. I am a science geek. I am a sci-fi nerd. I am a gamer: I love rpg’s (role-playing-games). I am a dreamer. I am a marathon runner. I am a sky-diver. I am a snowboarder. I am an aggressive in-line skater. I am a base jumper.I am an adrenaline junkie.


I am an odd amalgamate of things usually left separate.

It’s made my life an interesting, albeit sometimes wildly intense, place.

I am truly thankful for all of the things, oft-conflicting, that I am. It is me, my entirety that makes my life one that I love so much that I cannot even describe it.

Go out there, do something that scares the living hell out of you, and then tell me how you feel afterward.

Face every second with a confidence born of accomplishment, of fears faced and conquered. It is one of the best feelings you can experience as a human being.

That said, I’ll be working my way back into the saddle this winter. The sky is calling and the summer sun will greet my return to the aeries of eagles.


Leap V2***

And once again I surprise myself by not seeing the obvious answer.

I need, very badly, to jump off of something.

Adrenaline withdrawal is an awful thing in my estimation.

I looked back over some posts, thought my way through a few action-items on my agenda and BAM. It suddenly hits me that it’s been five years, seven months and eleven days since I’ve taken that leap into the vast emptiness of our atmosphere.

Just thinking about the process sets my heart to racing, my blood boiling in my veins, threatening to explode.

The rasp of nylon over stainless steel. The eerie howl of the wind that you can only get at height. The absurd thoughts and mind blowing clarity of every sense as you force yourself ever closer to the edge of nothing.

The leap is an indescribable thing, there is a primal fear that surges through you as you look over that precipice, fight-or-flight taking over your limbic system.

I always close my eyes and say my goodbyes and then I let go and fall.

It’s a feeling I’ll never be able to capture with words. The languages I speak are far too limited in their vocabulary.

There’s a moment though, one of those in-between moments I love so very much. A moment when your mind is clear, you know you’re falling toward the earth at terminal velocity but you feel only the cushion of a perfect oxygen/nitrogen blend pushing against you.

As though the hand of god were holding you up, suspended in a frozen moment.

All too soon the moment is gone, fleeting, ephemeral and still somehow so visceral.

Then the mundanities of the situation call attention to the fact that you’ve got to pull your rip, sketch a landing, haul your chute in and run like hell before the cops get there.

I’ve got goosebumps just thinking about it.

Below is are some images of the Asylum Perigree Pro, 2-pin-closure canopy container. It is a thing of beauty. Not just for the design but for the freedom it represents.




***Base Jumping is the sport of using a parachute to jump from fixed objects. “BASE” is an acronym that stands for the four categories of objects from which one can jump:

• (B)uilding
• (A)ntenna (an uninhabited tower such as an aerial mast)
• (S)pan (a bridge, arch or dome)
• (E)arth (a cliff, crater, canyon or other natural formation)


…but the shadow still remains from your descent, your descent (you’re decent)…

Going big, going hard, or going home. These are not just words, they’re a philosophy. For me it’s a reminder to always throw everything I have, everything I am, into everything that I do.

I can be far too demanding of myself, I push myself constantly, sometimes too far – how else do we find our own limits, how else do we expand our personal borders?

On a lighter note, this is what I write my novels on:


It’s about four and a half years old, pre-Dell buyout. It still screams. Just like me.


My blog is looking a little bi-polar these days.

I feel the need to assure everyone that I’m not tragically sad in any way. Writing things down is how I work my way through the issues that crop up in daily life. And for all of the other things I worry about; generally unquantifiable ephemeralities.

I have to rewrite my synopsis for the series again. It’s becoming a weekly event as ideas come to me. A novel is truly an ever-evolving creature, one that takes on a life of its own and grows beyond the original vision in utterly inconceivable ways.

Of all of the things that I do, all of the things that I am; I love writing and by extension being a writer, the best.

It is incredibly cathartic.

I’ve got a few days of uninterrupted writing coming up and I’m sure it will improve my mood exponentially.

It always does.

Let the drummer kick

My dog tags list “Jedi” as my official religion – for burial purposes I suppose.

Religion, spirituality, theoretical physics; touchy subjects all. For most people at any rate.

I often wonder if any of my unanswered, perhaps unanswerable, questions will ever be answered adequately enough that I won’t need to wonder about them.

Sometimes I wish that I could turn my mind off. Just let what will be, be.

As yet, I’ve had no luck with that particular existential problem.

Is it deterministic to believe that people really can choose their path? How much choice are we really given in our lives?

Always I come back to perception. Our lives and our perception of them. How much it truly colors our existence.

I’ve been on such a downer lately, which is very unlike me and I’m completely unable to find the cause of it.

Frustration, nightmares, stress…a Jedi craves not these things.


“My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God as my successes and talents and I lay them both at his feet.”