ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS

Today was the first day of class.

I had Greek III. I was the only person in the class. Colin will be joining me on Friday. Chapel was really great. We finally have a campus pastor again. For this, I am grateful. Finally, a consistent voice. After chapel was my Church History class. Again, Dr. Shaw. One of my fondest mentors. I am in that class with Ryan and Colin. I am going to enjoy that class very much.

A few days ago I went to dinner at Chili's. While there, I filled out an application. Five minutes later I was interviewed. Two minutes after that, I was hired. Thirty minutes later, I was working. Five hours later, I was off work. By the way, I work at Chili's now. I wash dishes. The money is good.

Looks like I'm growing up. I suppose it was inevitable. I'm staying up on all my homework and studying. I'm feeling really good about everything.

I am grateful for my friend Danielle. She goes to NSU now. We talk a few times a week. It's a nice getaway from the stress here. She's one of the best friends I've had over the years. We've been through much. I am lucky to know her.

I guess I should go, I have an assignment to work on. Go me. I just got through cleaning the apartment. Cleaning makes me happy. Sometimes.

Oh yeah, I cut my hair and beard. Sorry everyone.

Here's one of my favorite pieces of Shakespeare. It's from Henry V, Act III, Scene I.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'"

IT BEGINS

I haven't trimmed my beard in four months. Nor my hair. I decided a few weeks ago that I'm going to let both grow throughout the winter. So, by the time I cut either, it will have been about a year.

Tonight, I went in the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. There, nested in my beard, was a piece of popcorn. And so begins the great beard adventure.

ONE LAST CHANCE

Met you overseas and
bought you coffee on the beach.
Held you in the rain,
what's the chance we'd ever meet
in this movie magic way?

One hundredth floor, a breakfast for two
glowing in stars and candle light.
We laugh and talk till the sunrise
I guess I'll just have to miss my flight.
And we don't care who knows.

One last chance to say goodbye.
One last chance to see your eyes.

Walking hand in hand down
streets where poets dream of how
life might be so far away
but they can't see what I see now.
The poem that's in our hearts.

Our dance is slow the air pulls us in
music fills the cold midnight.
Our troubles are gone and world's standing still.
Now we know time is on our side.
Lost in this moment in your eyes.
How could this moment become goodbye?

One last chance to say goodbye.
One last chance to see your eyes.

© Dan Quiroz 2007

LOSE CONTROL

I spent so much time pimping out my heart for free.
I thought I'd figured it out, I was so complete.

But now that I know
how my story ends
what will I have to show
for all this wasted time?

Say that I am good enough, I'll take your word and never let it go.
If I try to hard to understand, then I'll give up, but never lose control.

Take a look deep inside and find out where life starts and ends.
Then begin to realize that someday everything will burn.

It's only when
you've lost everything
you can begin
to do anything.

Say that I am good enough, I'll take your word and never let it go.
If I try to hard to understand, then I'll give up, but never lose control.
The measure of a man today will buy my soul and leave me wanting more.

lose control...
hitting bottom is not enough...
lose control...
hitting bottom was never enough...

© Dan Quiroz 2007

NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE

I'm tired. I think.

I keep yawning. I don't know why. Maybe it's my medications? No. Surely not. More and more, sleep concerns me. It's not that I'm afraid to go to sleep, necessarily. It's just, I wonder what I'm missing out on while I'm unconscious.

If I can just hold out a little longer. I think to myself. Could I stay awake forever?

What happens if I never sleep?

Or what about sleep? Could I sleep forever, and never wake up? There is, honestly, something unsettling about the concept of sleep. Suddenly weak. Unable to keep motor functions running properly. Your eyes are getting heavy and dry. The way you think of a desert as dry. You are compelled, no, drawn to lay down. What function does this serve? Why can't I just stay standing? But you give in. Every time.

And then it happens.

It's comfortable. Really comfortable.

Suddenly the stress of the body, the weight of it, everything is lifted. No matter how hard you fight to keep your consciousness, to keep your free will. You can't. This thing sneaks up on you. Some sort of great violator. Invader. A wolf in sheep's clothing perhaps? You find yourself thinking, less. Much less. Suddenly, you're hardly making a conscious effort to analyze the situation at all. Sinking into oblivion. Into that, deep, warm nothingness. That place children seem to find so easily.

Sleep.

Am I dreaming? What is happening to me as I sleep? How is this ritual helping me regain my functionality? Is there anything I could have done to avoid it? What is my body doing while I am in this place? Or, am I really here? How do I define myself. Am I my body, or am I my consciousness?

So, like I said. The idea of sleep doesn't necessarily frighten me. Not in the way that heights or big fireworks frighten me. Yes, I said fireworks. It frightens me in the way the afterlife frightens me. In the way God frightens me. It's intangible. It's nothing. It's not definable. So what is "it?" We take it for granted, but for most of us, it's the closest thing to a spiritual experience we will have for a while. And the strange thing is, it is something we all have in common. Much like the afterlife, none can avoid - falling asleep. Goodnight.

THOUGHS BECOME WORDS

I'm reading again. This time I'm reading Choke. Most of my friends know that I am fond of Fight Club, written by Chuck Palahniuk. Choke is also by Chuck. So far it's everything I was expecting, and nothing at the same time. Interesting how that can happen.

I'm writing again as well. Somehow I've forgotten how much I used to love these things. I've been thinking a lot about being a writer. Maybe not professionally, but just try my hand at it. It's a thought. And thoughts have the power to change the world. Am I that kind of vessel? We'll see.

I spent most of today reading my old blog. You can see it at woeboy.livejournal.com Somehow I think I used to be funnier. Does that mean that I'm sadder these days? I hope not. I think I've grown up a lot in the past two years. But I'll never be done. None of us will. I loved reading all my old thoughts. It was intense to say the least. I cried at some parts, and others had me laughing out loud, really hard. I impressed myself. I guess we all have the ability to do that to ourselves sometimes. Keep it up.

At some point today I watched Seraphim Falls, a western starring Pierce Brosnan and Liam Neeson, two very British actors. It was very good. I also watched Ocean's Thirteen with Eric and Assan at the dollar movie. Not bad.

I was talking with Mandie the other day about growing up. It's a strange thing. It's one of a very short list of things that we will all, one day, do. Kind of like dying. I was thinking about how all of my friends are getting married and signing thirty year mortgages. And I get worried. I begin to wonder 'am I normal?' Is it normal, that those things do not sound appealing to me right now? Does that make me immature? And if so, who defines growing up? My friends? My family? Society? God? I read something startling in my old blog today. In one of the entries, I had filled out a survey. One question read 'at what age do you want to be married?' And I had answered '22.' This is a strange feeling to me. Love. Dan.

THE WORLD'S LAST NIGHT

This is how it feels. The turn of a page, the end of a chapter... the closing of a book. Last night was the unofficial 'last night of summer.' It began much like any other summer night.

Mike met me at my place, and then I threw on some clothes. Then we had our usual discussion about who would drive. I told my mom bye. "I'll be back late" I said. And we were off.

Getting into mike's car was a beautiful thing in itself. It just felt like summer. Cruising. No great plan, no final destination. Just a compass and the stars to guide us. But there were no stars. Not yet. No, at this hour the sun was still making it's presence known. It was hot. Real hot. So we cruised on. Two dudes, blasting rock through the stereo that barely works... windows down. Now this is summer.

We show up at Woodland Hills mall. We're supposed to meet up with Mandie, but we have no idea where she is inside the mall. So I call her up. No service. Long, long story short, we meet up. Mike and I are still baking from the oven on wheels. We do a little looking around. We joke about how the Apple store is what everything will look like in the future. Clean and white. I'm sure that will make some people very happy.

Now it's time to hook up with James. We head over to his place. It's not far. We pile in his car. "Now this is summer" I think to myself, again. Tragically, Mandie forgot to bring the RENT karaoke mix I made for her on her birthday. But, this does not stop us from yelling it out a cappella style. It's time for Bueno.

We hit Bueno. I get a number three. No guacamole, plus queso. My stomach thanks me. So, here we sit. Four friends, eating Bueno. "Now this is summer." We're all thinking it. No one is saying it.

Good friend M.C. Jimmy shows up to join us. What a pleasant surprise. Old friends, with new friends, with much newer friends. It's all good.

We started joking about all the things we would do if any of us had any money tonight. We're all broke. We, talk about the things we wanted to do this summer, but didn't. But, better than any of that, we talk about the things we did do. The nights, the perfect moments.

Mandie suggests we go for a walk. Mike and I strongly disagree. You see, we had made enemies with the sun earlier that day, and there were still some hard feelings in the air.

So what do penniless college kids do on a Friday night? We went to a bookstore. Mike listened to some music. James looked at some obscure magazines. Mandie pointed out future gift ideas. Now this is summer. And as for me. I spent money I didn't have. But I really did need a new sketch book and another novel by Chuck Palahniuk. You bet I did.

I'm realizing something. It's impossible to really capture the feel of it. This isn't just a list of events. There were sights and sounds. Jokes and feelings. It was a simple, perfect, ordinary summer night.

We find ourselves back at James' place. His messy, and yet, organized bachelor pad. Which, in James' words "doesn't need a woman's touch." Go figure. So there we are. Mandie is sitting in her chair. Mike and I are on the couch. M.C. Jimmy is asleep, probably, on the love seat - which is hers by the way, because she was the first person to change it from a shelf to a loveseat, she claimed it, it is hers. James is on the floor. Now this is summer.

Just like countless summer nights before, this one came down to slow end with James, Mike, Mandie and I in our designated places. Talking. The TV is glowing blue. No one has any expectations, and no one has to impress anyone. We just talk. Perfect. It's close to Four AM.

Now we're outside, in the parking lot. Trying to say good night. This is a bit harder than any of us anticipated, but I don't think any of us expected it to be easy. This is the unofficial last night of summer. The world's last night. The end of the chapter. But definitely not the book. We make plans and promises. Good ones, with good intentions. I have faith in our bond. We take a picture, to catalog the scene. To immortalize the moment in history. We hug heads and love on necks. The sun has definitely given up the fight, and now the night is cool. Bye sun. Bye James. Bye Mandie. Bye Mike. Bye summer. Now this is summer.

THE DREAM

I was running really fast throught a trail in the woods. I think I was chasing a car. It was very joyful and happy. I got to a really long incline and I stopped. On the side of the road there was a really steep dirt wall. For some reason I started trying to climb up that wall instead of continuing my run up the trail.

At that point there were a few people standing around watching me climb. Suddenly, without warning, a lion came up the trail. He seemed peaceful. No one was afraid, because we knew he wouldn't attack, but we knew that deep down he had enormous power.

I stopped climbing when I saw him. Then I turned away and took another step up this wall. The sound on the dirt and branches broke the silence. Right then, the lion attacked me. I fought him, trying to keep his mouth shut. But he wounded my hand. Once there was a huge gash taken out of the top of my hand, he stopped.

After that, I stopped climbing. I then found myself in a store that was going out of business and everything was on sale. I was looking for gloves to cover up my grossly wounded hand.