A Life of Greater Adventure: Chapter 1, Discovering that you’re on an adventure

20 01 2018
Map

Credit: Kyle Zentmeyer

Interestingly enough, the hardest part of this writing adventure is going to be the starting;  Which Ironically, is what I’m planning on talking about right now.  It’s pretty easy to catch yourself in a rut.  Some days you just have to take one day at a time.  Finding your way into an adventure can seem like a bit of a trick.

Before we begin, I feel like now would be a good moment to mention a couple of things first.  I’m not a professional, and I’m just making up these ideas as they come to me.  Second, I am a Christian, and I believe certain things about our origins, our future and a certain set of moral standards.  That being said, this isn’t a sermon, and while I will draw some aspects from the Bible, these ideas herein are, as mentioned before, are just a series of ideas that I’ve had.  So here we go.

So… There you are, sitting reading (I’m sure you’re reading. you might be standing or laying down…).  So… There you are, in some position, reading (or listening via text to speech… whatever).  And I bet you’re thinking to yourself: I’m in a rut and would like to go on an adventure.  Well guess what? You’re already on your way.  There’s just a few things you have to check on first before you step across that threshold.  Do you have your grappling hook?  That’s okay, it’s optional.

Most importantly, you need to know where this adventure will ultimately lead to.  A map is going to come in handy, metaphorically speaking (and possibly literally).  Each point on the map represents a potential goal.  This can be anything from getting into better shape, to curing cancer, to being a better person.  Whether or not you think you can reach whatever goal you set, you should still set it; otherwise, you’ll get a whole lot of nowhere fast.  Have an idea in mind? No? Well… Keep reading; something might come to you.

Another important part is knowing how to get from here to there.  So where is here?  In the world of adventures you should consider yourself a level one character.  That is to say: you have no gear, no plan, a miniscule number of skills and in most cases are fairly squishy, so try not to get yourself killed just yet.  We have to prep accordingly.

Once we know where we’re going we need to know how we’re going to get there.  We need to plan for potential dangers as well as everyday necessities. We need to look at our map and think about everything we’ll need to pack.

Lastly, in games, movies and books our heros and adventures are governed by a set of rules. It’s just how life works.  Even if you choose to disagree, I find that the Bible is a core foundational set of rules that works very well.  And beside the fact that I hold everything in it to be true, I will be using as my rulebook to this adventure guide.

Next time, we’ll dig into more specifics on setting your goals.  I’ll be using my goals as the example: To be Christ’s warrior, a hero to those in need, and to be the king of my kingdom

Are you ready to start a grand adventure? I hope so, because you’re already on the path of one.  Adventures are rarely glamorous.  Much like our everyday lives, we’re given problems and choices.  What makes it a memorable adventure instead of a mundane daily task is your attitude towards it.

We have an opportunity here that I don’t want to miss out on.  There is an ever-present chance to engage ourselves in an active roll in our own lives.  It would be a shame if we laid down our gear and said “we’re close enough”.

This week’s challenge: every two (three) weeks I’ll issue a new challenge.  I simple idea that I myself will be shooting for. I encourage you to join in! This time, I challenge you, if you don’t already, to go out and get a rulebook (Bible) to follow along (Bible gateway has a free app… It’s painless to use and it’s informative at the very least… Do it… Try it… Go on an adventure).  If you need more direction, start with the book if Romans (it’s towards the back).

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Love, Poets, and a Sip of Tea

5 10 2016
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“A Literary Review”, 2016, EIC: Jordan Macklin, A Colorado Mesa University Publication

I was sitting around at school in a chair that’s just uncomfortable enough that it reminds me that I have somewhere else to be eventually.  The reds and yellows of the chairs and floor offset the plain white wall that reach up to the white ceiling.  I’m caught off guard by a brightly colored book.  It’s covered in neon paint splashes.  The top half: a pair of eyes stare out into the real world.  The bottom half: the words scrawled across, “The Literary Review”.  Okay, I’ve got a little time to stall before I get back to work.

I crack open this, what I assume to be freshly printed, book.  It’s published by my school and filled with students’ works.  It’s sorted by sections; Fiction, non-fiction, theater, poetry, etc..  A few photographs and drawings filled in between sections.  Poetry was the first section, and as I’m clearly the kind of guy that does things in an organized matter (that’s sarcasm for those who don’t know me), I started there.  I thumbed through the pages.  It was a small collection, but as I stopped and glanced from poem to poem, I saw the same themes in every single one.  Nearly each containing a regret, a lament, or even a loathing for the world they found themselves in.  I find it disheartening that my generation finds itself lost in uncertainty and imperfection.

“I was built to break.
Not to meticulously pick apart,
Not to solve
Scenes as fine-spun as her.”

Fecundity, Shannon Kay Spoon, The Literary Review, 2016

Poetry and stories have always been a form of self-expression;  whether the intent of the the author is to be as such.  I’ve written some depressing stuff before too, and so I get it.  I get that sometimes the only outlet is to write.  However; there is a pattern here that seems impossible to ignore.  Each presumably submitted as their best works, their showcase, the art that they want to be remembered.  Do we prefer to revel in the darkness and din of our own wandering?  have we forgotten the beauty of life and love?20151006_184804

Yesterday, my mother asked me: “How do you know you love her?” I’d prepared for this answer for months with almost certainty that someone would eventually ask.  With skill and precision and with near perfect recital, having been as prepared as I was (once again… sarcasm), I said: “you know, I can’t really explain it.”  My mom has a cherish-able habit of asking me deep personal questions when I’m strapped down into a seat and unable to escape… perhaps I deserve that fate.   But anyway, there I was, unable to give an explainable answer.  I couldn’t describe it.  I know with absolute certainty that it’s true, and will forever remain so; but I couldn’t explain it.

It seems easier for people to explain feelings of angst and uncertainty than it is to explain beauty or joy.  We’ve become accustomed to analyzing suffering and despair.  People have made livings on telling what’s wrong with the picture.  With answers ‘they’re depressed’, ‘they were mentally unstable’, ‘their environment wasn’t allowing them to succeed’ we seem to have been indoctrinated that in order to be happy we must understand why people are not.  We look at our worldly pains and study them, we adapt to them, and in a sick and twisted way, we’ve melded to them.  The idea of ‘expressing ourselves’ often comes out as “this is why I/the world sucks.”

*pauses… sips tea… resets perspective.

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The Irony in my message today is the bleak outlook I may have painted of the matter.  This is anything but true!  I take issue with this, not because “you’re poems suck, and you’re a terrible person,” but because I know that the world we live in is full of good things.  The words we speak or write need not be tainted with negativity, as our ‘outlet’ to feel, but they should rather fill us with hope and longing to improve our condition.

Take joy my friends.  Dance among the stars! Yes, a moment of grief and solitude may be needed, but don’t forget that it is not a life worth living by itself.  Singers: Sing of the summer rain and the flowers of spring.  Dancers: dance with the heart of a warrior, and the grace of an angel.  Painters: imprint on us the bold colors of life.

Poets and writers, a special creed I offer to you: Loose your shackles of bitterness and regret.  Oh scribes of our souls, heed not the warnings of fear and despair.  Adventure forth into the world, peering into the corners of our furthest hopes.  Grow not weary or disheartened.  Seek through mire of hopelessness.  For all can already see what is clearly in front of us.  Seek deeper, wander farther, share with the world what it does not know.  May your works bring wonder and awe to all who see.  Do not find peace in serenity of hopelessness.  Find it instead in the words of the kind, the brave, the virtuous, and the wise.  Be those words.





Memory

1 04 2015

Memory

By: Kyle Zentmeyer

Moon Blossom, By: Kyle Zentmeyer

Moon Blossom, By: Kyle Zentmeyer


             The earie blue light of the moon flooded in my bedroom window.  The beams of feint light only broken into fragments by the large oak tree outside that I used to climb as a kid.  I rolled over in my bed again, cracking open a single eye only to wince at the glaring red printout on my bed-stand reminding me that time doesn’t stop.  Three-thirty-three AM.

I decided to let my mind wander freely.  I had hoped that by freeing it from its chains of reality that it would quickly find itself safely asleep.  But then the most curious thing happened.  It left.  My minds exit was so abrupt that it managed to rip a whole clean through my reality.  It teared through the room looking for a way out… or maybe it was looking for something to latch on to.  Either way, my mind was now free.

So there I was: Sitting straight up in my bed; startled by the shock of what had just happened.  My thoughts, my memories, my emotions bounced out into my room in every color and shape imaginable.  The light quickly faded as the ideas and dreams of my life settled gently to the floor.  I thought this was it.  This is all that there was to my existence.  Every thought and action that I made now lay in front of me as they quickly faded out of time.  Was this what was to become of me? Everything that I have committed to memory simple faded away, with no one but myself to watch?

I blinked once or twice, hoping that the dream would be over, but there was more… so much more.  The euphoric sense of wonder subsided and I now was in my room again.  But wait, there’s still some memories glowing steadily like embers in a dying fire, flitting through the air quietly.  I could almost see through each one, each time my eye followed one images flashed through the room.  A birthday party, vacation at grandma’s house, walking along the old dirt road with my dad, taking my mom to dinner, playing games with my family, going on hikes with my friends.  Each image cast out onto the walls in plain view.  “These must be the strong ones” I told myself.

The room grew darker, and even the strongest memories grew dim.  And that’s when I felt it.  There were more memories in the room.  They was scratching at the closet door, begging to be released.  But how could I do it? I was the one that put them there.  Locking them away hoping that no one would see.  These memories, the bad mistakes, the missed opportunities, the things that can never be undone that I did, all lying in wait, likely to pounce upon me all at once should I open the door.  I battled there in the corner of the room.  Pulling and tugging at my mind, trying to bring it back in… but it was too late.  The door had been opened.

Unlike the good memories, that floated about in a dazzling display that warmed the heart, these that now lumbered about my room, aimlessly trying to find something to devour, were not light at all.  They were neither black nor white nor any shade in between.  They just were.  Big ugly skeletons, each one with their own disfigured, mangled appearance.  I tried not to make eye contact.  Each glance burned horrible images into my eyes, aching me to my very bones.  I closed my eyes to them and turned away.  What harm were they to bring down upon me? What retribution did they seek? I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing, so I opened my eyes and looked back.  It still hurt.

These skeletons seemed at first to by mindlessly searching the room.  But then I realized, that they were gathering.  Some of them at the door to the outside, and some at the window, that the moonlight had long since disappeared from.  Curious, I very gingerly crept out from the safety of my bed’s comforter, and tip-toed first to the window.  The beasts that had gathered there seemed to be looking out, completely ignoring my own presence.  I peeked over the shoulder of one exceptionally grotesque one.  I could hear the cries of my little brother as I pushed him to the ground in my childhood emanating from the bones of the thing next to me… I had to turn away.  The one I peered over was different.  Different than the others.  It was less dark, and darker and… well… was less of anything.  It felt… alone.  At first it didn’t make any sound. But as the room grew quieter, this monster now inches from myself, grew almost louder without making a single sound itself.

I looked away again and the things in the room continued about their business, still seemingly unaware that I was watching.  I squinted my eyes as I looked out the window.  And that’s when I saw, that I was not alone.  Thousands — maybe millions of skeletons roamed through the world.  At first I saw them down in my lawn and down on the street, but then I saw across the world, each skeleton wandering around seemingly aimless as my own.  Then one of them, close but not too particularly close looked up.

It stared right past all the monsters of my own, and looked at me.  It was not close, nor particularly far.  It was at my window staring down at me with its big blank eyes.  I couldn’t see it, but unlike my own, there was nothing to be felt.  I didn’t understand it but I felt like it was calling out to me.  Was it another skeleton I was about to add to my disheveled collection of my own? I felt as though I wanted to reach out to it.  I put my hand up to the icy window pane, nearly against my own will.  A chill went down my back.  Then I felt something else move again.

From behind me, a creature I knew all too well… slowly reached out over me.  The darkest of them all.  A memory so deep that it’s become an emotion of its own.  I tried to scream in terror, fearing that this was the end.  As it reached the skeleton on the other side of the glass also reached out, mirroring the shadow behind me.  They touched together, where my hand had now been frozen in place with fear.  I gritted my teeth and shut my eyes hard.  If only I hadn’t reached out.

I opened my eyes again.  All the monsters at my window had gone… or… at least they didn’t seem to matter now.  There, on the other side, where a looming shadow once stood, was another person.  Not a whole lot like me, but somehow, I knew this person.  I knew a little of what it was like to be them.  Not all of them.  But I understood part of what ran deep through them… and through me.  I smiled, and they smiled back.  Their smile exploded into a glorious array of light.  Not terrifying, but intense.  It filled my room with memories that I have not yet known.  Each one more brilliant than the next.  Most of them were good, and burned bright and strong.  But it wasn’t over.

I heard a bump behind me.  I turned with a start to see that the rest of my skeletons, still cutting through me like a knife when I looked, leaning against the door.  On the other side I heard shouting, and crying, and could smell the death of the world trying to break through.  More mistakes, more heartache, lurched at its seams.  My skeletons still hideous and unbearable in their own right were pushing back now.  They held strong at the gate to what was now my fortress.  All of my past sins were now pushing back the tide of more trying to enter in.  They had barricaded my soul up to any more out.  These were the skeletons that I had locked away.

The skeletons faded.  The battle had been won for now.  I crawled back into my bed, as the light from my memory filled the room, and colors of every sort danced about me.  “What was to become of these memories?” I wondered.  And as I wondered this a figure glided through my room.  From out of nowhere, the same person that I had met through the window was now pacing about.  And then more figures, all of whom I recognized came in, each going about looking at each of my memories.  The person from my window looked fondly at one that only moments earlier they had created.  They reached out and plucked it from the air, took half of it, and placed it in their pocket.  The other half floated back into the room, unusually brighter than before.  As each character in the room partook in my memory, each light grew brighter and brighter, until there wasn’t a thing to be seen but a blinding light, so beautiful and warm, it made everything else in the room insignificant.  The guitar, the computer, the bed, the walls themselves, all seemed to fade away at the corners of the ever growing light.

My eyes opened once again.  Three-thirty-three AM.  The earie blue light of the moon flooded in my bedroom window.


Thank you for reading.





Cryptic Facebook Post

14 06 2014

I was sitting here at my computer, staring down facebook once again.  To post or not to post, that was the question.  I kind-of wanted to post something cryptic and “ill-mooded”, but I also didn’t wan’t to have flashbacks of having done just that same thing in high-school.  So I’m posting some more rambling non-sense here instead (I just hope it doesn’t take longer than an hour, or else I’ll regret it tomorrow morning).

The whole point of this “cryptic facebook post” that I had in my head to post (but didn’t), was, in a brief summary: “I’m not where I want to be in life”  I was hoping by this time I’d have at least one completed work of music, or a drawing that I would be proud enough to claim as my own, or at the very least a video blog so you can see my pretty face and listen to the sultry sound of my voice.  But no… you’re just reading some boring text, probably skimming from paragraph to paragraph.  I don’t blame you though; I do the same thing.  So this is what happens when dreams and reality meet I guess.  I’ve never had a job that I’ve said that I really didn’t like, but as humanity would have it, I’ve found myself skimming the bottom of the barrel hoping to find enough scraps to hold together some sort of thing that people call living (keep in mind I have 2 jobs… one of which I thoroughly enjoy, but I’m pleading the 5th on which one I’m talking about… here’s a hint: it’s not posted on my facebook that I work there.)

Don’t get me wrong, the people there are great (mostly), but that kind of environment is not suited to my strengths even in the slightest.  Which got me to thinking again, about my other post And Now: For Something Completly Different.  I desperately am clinging on to the theory of that post, probably as some sort of early-mid-life crisis.  But reality has sunk it’s teeth in hard, and I’m struggling to fight for my dreams.  I’ve found that it’s like this: the desire is there, and the skills are rusty (but there… I hope) but right now, I have no goals or outlet.  I’ve also noticed how having 2 jobs, makes me really not want to do anything at all when I have time off.  I play a lot of music, but most of it doesn’t accomplish much, as I don’t have anything hooked up to record anymore.  Lastly, I’ve noticed that I like to do creative things at night, which doesn’t help when I have to be up at 5 the next morning.  So… This “job” thing that makes me money.  it’s a necessary evil at this point.  And unfortunately, sometimes I have to do things I don’t like to do.

I’m still looking for a place to live in a more permanent situation.  I’ve got boxes and piles everywhere in the room my grandparents are letting me stay in.  It’s not home though, and it’s not suitable to what I want to be doing with my time.  But once again… there’s that money thing.

So, I’m not doing what I want in a place I don’t want to be, with my boxes and piles of dirty laundry to keep me company… hmm… let’s talk solutions.  Because solutions to problems are always more exciting than the problems themselves in my opinion.

Option 0: Do nothing

So I make money now, I eat good food and sleep in a warm bed.  What more could I want in life?  <– seriously  this isn’t fun at all.

Option 1:  Go to college!

Ok… I’ve given this some thought, and it actually seems like it could become a viable solution.  But there’s still lots of details and stuff to hash out in my head and on paper before it becomes even remotely doable.

Option 2: Find a different job

I’m working on this one passively, but seriously: it was hard enough the first time.

Option 3: umm…

Ok… I haven’t come up with any more ideas.  What can I say? I’m writing this all down as it comes to me anyway.  what did you expect? a well thought out dissertation on my thoughts this evening? ha ha! you obviously don’t know me very well then… moving on…

every now and then… I’ve highly considered, while driving, to just keep driving, to see where I end up.  Just to pack up some things, and hit the road.  But then again, it wouldn’t help with my mission at all.  so Option 4: I need to set some actual tangible goals for myself.  “Goal one: write goals down.”  There, that wasn’t too hard. I just need to keep going.  Now for those of you who don’t know how this blogging thing works, I’m going to stop writing things here so I can find some pretty pictures to put in before it gets much later into the night.

<insert 15 minute gap of time>

Well.. that was a waste.  There’s nothing good on the internet anymore (which is another tangent I might address later).  I took a bunch of nice photos last weekend, but they’re still all on my moms computer.  So it looks like you’re just going to get a big-ole wall-o-text this time… sorry.

 





Settling In

8 05 2014

This will likely be a short blog update.  Not much has happened.  So here’s the short version first (In convenient bullet points).

  • I found work!
  • it’s barely enough to cover rent if I were to rent my own place. But I’m going to try anyway.
  • Because right now it feels like I’m living out of boxes (because I am).  And it’s frustrating.

That’s the short summary of life.  now on to Mothers day!

I’m excited because my Grandpa just gave me the word, that if I want, I can make anything I want for a Mothers Day dinner, and he’ll pay for the ingredients.  I’m not going to go super crazy, but it’s going to be fun!  And… in summary of mothers day: “I love my mom!”

Yeah… that’s about it.  Most of my jeans will permanently smell like cooking oil now, but hey, it’s a living.  So stay tuned as I look for a place to live, and when that happens, I’ll be getting back to the art and music and shtuff.

I guess that’s all… Told you it was short. Until next time,

Kyle





And Now: for something completly different

22 03 2014

Squarehole_trans

I’ve been doing some thinking lately… I’ve been doing that a lot recently.  Dealing with frustration after frustration, and little life problem after little life problem.  Sometimes I want to move off into my own little fantasy world where everything feels right.  Last night, I came up with an (albeit, age old) analogy that more than describes my life:

The world has become linear and square.  We grow up, and as we grow up we’re taught things in school so that one day we can get jobs, make money, spend money, and repeat.  And the rest of life has become an afterthought.  And the world (at least my world, here in the US), has made it neigh impossible to be happy unless I essentially place myself in a dead-end job where I probably don’t want to be.  The world has become a square hole, and I feel like the round peg.  It’s just… not… working.  I see other round pegs (artists, directors, musicians) everywhere, and I think: “I want what they have.”

One thing that’s been consistent in my life for the last couple years is this lack of passion… for pretty much anything; especially in the last few month.  As I trudge through job-site after job-site looking for anything that remotely interests me.  At this point… I just need the money, so I’ll probably end up working fast-food somewhere until my finances stabilize.  The good news though: is that I refuse to stay there (when I get there).

I’ve had all this free time, and I’ve been wasting most it.  That is, until a couple weeks ago… I’ve felt this “thing” stirring.  I’ve been playing (and analyzing) a lot of music… a LOT of music.  I’ve found myself studying movies to the tee (you know, more than I usually do), watching hours upon hours of “how-to” videos on making short films and videos, Writing short stories,  Going to the kitchen and just making stuff.  I’ve even grabbed my art supplies from storage (man! my art is rusty!).  My Dad said something this last week over lunch with something to the effect of: “while you continue looking for a job, you try to look into finding some sort of training to qualify you for other jobs too”.  The direction I’m taking is, I’m sure, not exactly the way he intended me to take it… but until I find something better… I’m running with it with full enthusiasm.   This idea to create, has sparked an unusual amount of passion in me, and even though the square world tells me to put down this thought, and tells me “it’s just a hobby… get a real job.”  And to the square world I say to…: “make me.”

I’ve been making my own way of doing things and entertaining myself before I could walk.  I think I’ve realized now… for the first time in a long time, what it is I’m meant to do.  I’ve been training myself for it my whole life sub-concisely.  So although I’ll need some way to finance myself for this en devour (yuck), I won’t be staying square.  I’m going round!  And despite the world telling me that “it’ll never work,” and “that’s just a make-believe fantasy that holds no value,” I’m going to push myself for it… through the pain and hardships, fighting upstream, with all I’ve got.

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Often times, I’ve thought to myself: “Why would something art (art being paintings, movies, cuisine, music, etc.), be of any value to the world? it’s not like I’m building wells in Africa or curing cancer, or fighting in a war.  I’m not even helping someone with their everyday needs like buying groceries or clothing.”  but then this thought occurred to me: “art doesn’t matter? tell that to a kid with cancer too sick to get out of bed smiling while they watch cartoons.  To a veteran looking at that painting that temporarily helps him forget the scares and hurt that comes with war.  To a lonely teenager that just made a new friend at that movie they just went to.  To the couple that just made over dinner at a restaurant.  How can art NOT be important?”

So where does that leave me this time? well first, I won’t be fitting into any more boxes…  I won’t even bother trying to unless (like I said earlier), it’s required only so much as it frees me up to leave it again (I.e. makes money).  The frustration of it all is about the old adage: “It’s not about what you know… it’s about who you know.” I know a lot… sometimes a lot more than I give myself credit for.  but the who… that can be a problem.

When I was a senior in high-school, I had a vision to get into film-making and cinematography… which eventually got crushed by the jaws of reality.  I can vividly remember that conversation with my parents about it.  It just wasn’t practical… it couldn’t be done, and “what else do you like to do?”  It really made me loose a lot of desire to try… at anything really.  Now don’t get this wrong… it absolutely was not my parents fault.  Life was an emotional train-wreck for me in high-school and I had a really bad case of senioritis.

So here I am again… trying to figure out the rest of my life, like a bad deja vu.  But I’m older, and arguably wiser this time.  I’ve been waiting for that “ah-ha” moment in my life.  Waiting for something to click back on.  I’m tired of spending my energy suppressing who I feel I can be in order to “fit in to that square hole.”  But this time… it’s all about to change.  the gears in my head are shaking off the rust and starting to spin in motion… my thoughts defaulting to… well… default, is about to be a thing of the past.

This summer will most likely be filled with experiments with different arts, hopefully sustained by some sort of square job.  I expect that, at least for a while, all my free time this year will be trying to break ground.  As I lay my foundation for what lies ahead.  I’m writing down an outline of projects I will be doing this summer… baring disaster.  Wait, no… a disaster would have to be me dying or something… because nothing’s else is going to stop me now!  Anyway, I’ve got a couple of songs I’m writing that will probably be finished and recorded early summer.  I’ve also got an idea for a little video project in my head.  If I ever actually finish a short story… I’ll put up here for you guys too (for free even!).  I also have a few, more experimental, “beginner” projects in my head.  Oh boy! now I’m excited!

I’ll be trying to broadcast myself wherever I can… this is where I need your guys’ help:

  1. Like, Share, and Share again… everything that you see me do.  I don’t care if I don’t know them or not… I want as many people to hear it as possible
  2. I love hearing what people think…. seriously comment, or message me on facebook! I love hearing both Thanks, and Constructive Criticisms.
  3. Pray for me, and this little endeavor of mine.
  4. Did I mention sharing my projects yet? Oh, I did? well… maybe you should share again… just to be safe.
  5. Be excited
  6. Check back here often… I’ll be dumping tons of projects here this summer!

I’m laughing at myself as I just realized that really all the blog posts are are motivational speeches to myself.  I do hope that my readers can glean from these thoughts and use them in whatever matter benefits you most.  So that’s it… I’m getting back to where I started.  Probably will end up steering towards film-making and directing, but we’ll just take that, one step at a time.

that’s it for  now, thanks for reading!

Kyle





FBFSE update #2: DAY 1

15 04 2013

DAY 1:  It’s getting warmer outside.  I fully anticipate having some sort of withdrawal here in the first week.  Probably some social anxiety as I will have no idea what people are up to.  Which is funny, because it’ll be exciting when I have to, you know… ask them in person how they’re doing.  What a strange concept.

Anyway, my passwords are officially changed.  I used a password generator using 15 random letters, numbers and special characters.  I didn’t save the passwords, so the only way to get my accounts back is to do a password reset.  And that won’t happen until Aug. 31.  My big sister has unofficially joined on board with the experiment (at least according to a FB post a couple of days ago).  I hope that you all consider this another invitation to join in a really cool idea (if I may say so myself).  It’s not too late to realize that there’s more to life than false social interactions!

Well… it’s still too early to have any real kind of report.  So this is just my official “hey I started”, notice.

 

HAVE AN AWESOME SPRING/SUMMER!

Kyle