This One’s Mine (2012)

I could tell something was wrong from the moment I saw her. The usual vibrancy that I find so irresistible was replaced with fear and doubt.

“Go look in your bathroom,” she said.

Laying on the counter I saw it. In our over-litigious world the blue donut no longer proclaims the news.

Just one simple word.

“PREGNANT”

 

I was immediately sucked into the eddy of doubt that plagued my accidental lover.

We had to be sure. So she made an appointment for the coming Tuesday to verify our fears. I anticipated that day with great anxiety. I needed to know, to create a solid path to follow. But the day came with no resolve. The doctor cancelled at the last minute. Life was torturing me for the sin of corrupting Erin’s innocence.

What I feared more than anything was the uncertainty. I’ve always feared it more than death itself. Death is going to happen. It’s inevitable. While I cannot anticipate the when I can try to prepare for it. Uncertainty gives me no straws to grasp at. Nothing to get ready for. Nothing to control, to steer, or get my bearings.

 

Nonetheless a week later our suspicions were confirmed. The depth charge known as a baby had been detonated into my life. My emotions became chaotic shrapnel, cutting shards into my every thought and confidence.

In those early stages my mind was a flurry of fret. My brain conceived every outlandish scenario: from adoption to challenging for sole custody. Only occasionally would a rational thought throw a life-saver into the churning murk of my thoughts:

“You survived Lisa, Ryan.”

“You will survive this.”

           

My first difficulty was Erin. She has been a conundrum between my word and my nature since I fell in love with her. For one symbolized by fire it is in my nature to burn that which I hold closest. But my word, the mock chivalry, deceives me into trusting that I will do what is best.

I loved her, I hurt her. A little over a year after I first picked the lock to her chastity I had left a time bomb in her life. No matter how little commitment she wanted from me, she would now be linked to me for the rest of her life.

And while it is undignified, assinine, and unbefitting The Phoenix, the human portion of my soul affixed misplaced blame, then shifted to lament and anger...

“You should have known better. You played with one born of fire and we both got burned.”

“Why was I never good enough for you?”

“My life was finally going in a direction I wanted it and now this comes to fuck everything up.”

Angry more at myself but blaming Erin, I sought revenge on my life through self-pity and self-destruction. I desperately sought the affection of a woman I hadn’t corrupted. Yet, I was still afraid to corrupt another with my desperation. Eventually, I came full circle. It took both of us to create this child. It will take both of us to continue creating him. Although we may never be one, our unity will still exist in our son. It will have to be enough.

 

            However, there was another storm on the horizon. And its name was Kinney.

            My family is a curse, who it is my responsibility to love. No one else can understand them. They don’t even love themselves very well. Ours is a family where dysfunction is the only way we function. It’s like some unsolvable, incomprehendable equation that must still exist if the fundamental laws of reality are to hold true. No one else should have to take this taint of Kinney upon them. Yet someone now does, one poor mother and a marked child.

            I am sorry that you both will have to share the blight of Kinney.

            And, so very, VERY proud of that.

There is a twisted pride in surviving the curse of the Kinney. This survival is a quest to turn all that dysfunction into unyielding potential, of creating something beautiful from all the filth. Is it any wonder that I fought so hard with Erin to ensure that the label “Kinney” was somewhere in my son’s name? Another son to carry on the sullied name, another to try to make it mean something. The mark of Kinney is my stamp of selfish pride in having created something from nothing, my greatest art project.

 

Initially, the reward of my child felt as though I had been sentenced to 18 to life. I had reached a point in my life where I was ready to move on from Erin. I lamented something as trivial as the loss of my love life. My whole life was soon to belong to someone else. Control of my existence has shifted, seemingly overnight, from the culmination of my experiences to a little person not even half-formed yet. A deadline had been placed on my youth.

 

Slowly, acceptance began to quell the hurricane of emotions and uncertainty turned into certain doom. I began to make plans. In true “Ryan” fashion I looked to the future. It was time to get to work.

My anticipated son gave my dreams a sense of urgency, a deadline. A series of shelved, unfinished art projects burst into an organized chaos of activity. My art studio was erected in four months. A room full of storage was converted into an actual room. My most personal space, my bedroom, has always undergone radical changes each time my personal mindscape must radically change. It, like my life, was incomplete. It now better reflected the man I wanted to become; chaotic, nuanced, lived-in; not the man whose most brilliant pieces lay hidden in boxes. My entire foundation, which my home had become since the last foundation was shattered, underwent and is still undergoing major baby renovations. It is time I made room for someone else in my life.

 

To the beautiful mother of my son, who I will always love if for no other reason than she gave me this new life, I say this:

 

“Just as fire breeds we too shall watch our little spark explode into life. We will guide, tend, and fuel. It will be our job to give the energy of the universe form and function. The fires of a phoenix and the faith of a believer burn within our child. As Blessid Union of Souls says, “Love will find a way.” Ours will find its way into our child. I love you Erin, but I will love our child more.”

 

            I remain full of doubts and insecurities  in my life as one self will end when our child is born. Born of con artists and addicts, this cliché haunts me, “Can I do it right?” The only promise I can make is that the world will never be the same. The Phoenix is drawing to a close. The latest manifestation of Ryan, The AntiFather shall rise from its ashes, bearing, like all spent phoenixes, new life.

 

As I enter this new chapter in my life I have one thing left to express:

 

Of all the people it could have been with, of all the doubters and underestimaters, all the possibilities, potentials, mistakes, and failures. For all my incessant ramblings, babblings, worries, and obsessions. To the world in which I bring my son, I say this,

 

“Fuck you bitch, this one’s mine.”

 

The Dead Muse Dream

 This is a dream I had the night of May 27, 2013.

 

The dream opens to me in a booth at a restaurant with an unknown faceless female friend. I begin to notice at other booths across me a single woman sitting in several different booths. I slowly begin to realize that all of these woman look like Lisa, although each unique and different. These very similar women were sitting by themselves, and freaking out people around them with how similar they looked. I instantly rationalize that they are all Lisa’s from alternate realties, different possibilities of what they could be.

I am talking with my friend as I notice these women. My friend gets up to go to the bathroom and I approach these Lisa’s, addressing them all at once. I ask them to join me at my table (there are 3 of them that I can identify, but my mind told me there were 3 more there, a total of 6). They all come to my booth without a word, as though they were expecting this. I bring them to my table and add a chair for my friend at the end. The friend never returns and despite my mind telling me there were 6 Lisa’s, there was only space for 3 of them. They sit down.

One Lisa is very similar to mine, although very thin and pale. Another Lisa is rather chubby. A third Lisa sits down a few minutes after the others. She returned in place of my former friend. She was dressed in cyber goth clothing with black contacts that made her pupils appear to be constricted solid black circles. I exclaimed, “Ooo, there’s a goth Lisa.”

I addressed the Lisa most like mine and began asking her questions to gauge how like mine she was, almost suspecting that she was. The only question I can remember was, “What kind of car do you drive?” She told me a story about her white car, but I cannot remember the details. I told her the story of my breakup with my Lisa. Somewhere in the conversation I grabbed the thin Lisa’s wrist and she asked me, “Do you want to break that wrist?” I asked, “Problems with an eating disorder?” She nodded.

 

The chair at the end of the booth remained empty.

 

I awoke…

 

Maybe I shouldn’t drink before bed.

The Dark Muse Dream

 

The following is a very powerful dream I had the night of May 15^th, 2009. I don’t often have dreams because my vivid imagination means I daydream a lot. I am seeking interpretations from anyone. Can you help me discover what it means…?

 

I am sitting in an auditorium. I am with my father, mother and brother, Shawn. The presenters are giving away tickets, one to a Cavs game, another to Cedar Point. I chose Cedar Point.

Instantly the environment changes. I am attending a huge social event party in a large multi-level office building. I am attending with 3 nameless, faceless friends. The party features 7 themed rooms. The first was an entry way similar to the one at my middle school. The second was a cross between the Cleveland Zoo (indoor parts) and an Indian bazaar market. There were tanks with lizards, salamanders, sharks, and sting rays. All had a price sticker on them. The third was a parlor with computers. I never discovered the other 4 rooms.

At this party, I knew Lisa was attending. I also knew she had a magical crystal that split her into 2 people. However, due to the 7 rooms she was accidentally split into 7. Each of the 7 Lisa’s was a different color (clothing), each representing a different personality characteristic.

The first Lisa I ran into was the black one in the entry way. When she saw me, she exclaimed, “Oh, shit!” and ran. It was shortly after that that I realized that she and the white one were evil. They were trying to kill me. I killed the white one. I do not remember how or why. Next I started running from the black one. I was sure that it had already killed my friends and I was next. She chased me into the parlor where I confronted her. When I turned around I realized this “Black Lisa” had turned into me. I killed it by slamming its head into a laptop screen.

I ran from the parlor into a stairwell. Here I encountered the red, purple, and yellow Lisa’s. These, I was sure were the good ones. I wanted to protect these 3 Lisa’s from the other 2 (colors unknown), that I was sure were trying to hurt us. I paid most attention to the red one. It was then, that my friends returned, coming down the hall with one slung over the shoulders of the other two. All three were alive and well.

Then I woke up…

Artists and Writers

Artists and writers; could you not say we're both the same.  Although our methods are different, we're both after the same goal.  We transcend reality, make beautiful what is ugly, and cement our creativity into something tangible.  A writer paints a picture with words and an artist tells a story with a picture.  We both infuse meaning into the meaningless.

              Our works are our legacies.  We want our ideas, thoughts, and feelings to survive us.  They are proof of our existence.  Our descendants will know we loved, hated, lost, gained, nurtured, suffered and survived.

            We are also escapists.  We fabricate new realities, new adventures, or simply immortalize a special moment lost in the blink of an eye.  Our craft is our religion.  We whole heartily believe in the worlds we birth.  Although we begrudgingly admit these are not the worlds we live in, we still put our hearts and souls into spreading the gospel.

            What differences are there between an artist and writer?  Is it words and pictures?  A word is a visual representation of an object, a symbol for it.  Letters, themselves, are just a symbol of a sound, a picture of a noise.  Is art simply to make something pleasing to the eye?  Can words themselves not be considered an art form?  Calligraphy makes words themselves into art. Books tell stories and invoke emotions.  A piece of artwork can tell a thousand stories and invoke the same diversity of emotions.

            Artists and writers are the same type of creature.  We mold our thoughts and feelings so others can perceive them.  We inspire, invoke, and invite our audience.  We bare our souls for all to see.  We challenge ourselves to see and interpret what others cannot.  Artists and writers; could you not say we're both the same.

 

Rainy Day Man 08/20/07

 

This is an even shorter conceptual piece.  This was originally written in my journal 8/20/07 after it had been raining for a week straight, immediately preceding a humid heat wave.

Enjoy!

 

Rain, Rain…don't go away. I love rain; it's calming and peaceful.  All the beasts of the earth retreat into hiding. They cease their irritating squawking and chirping. It's a renewal for the earth and soul. It's as though each drop washes away the stains on my soul. All my stress and tension flow away. The cool mist is invigorating. If it weren't for my responsibilities, I'd stand in the rain all day and let it soak me. Nothing makes me feel more alive than that which gives us life.

The Most Valuable Possession

Money is nothing.  It is an imaginary concept.  Its only value is what we put into it.  While often a necessary evil to survive, it is not important.  The only possession of true value is time.  It cannot be bought, sold, traded, or returned. Once gone it cannot be gotten back.  Although it seems inexhaustible to those of us that are young, in a blink a lifetimes worth has disappeared.  As quickly as it comes, it is gone.  Spend it frugally and wisely.  Regret nothing.  The hard times enrich the good ones.  Use time and turn it to your advantage, so that when yours is up, you affect the fresh source given to those that follow.  Love hard, live hard, to hell with money and value your most precious commodity – time.

 

ADDENDUM

 

When it comes to the items I find myself possessing people often say, “Hang onto that. It’s worth some money.” If I’m gonna hang onto something it certainly is not because it’s only worth money. I keep something because it’s worth a story. The history of that object is far more valuable than an arbitrary, imaginary concept of currency. If all it’s worth is money, then I might as well sell it. I can use the money to buy an adventure worth telling.

The Phoenix (12/30/09)

 

The Phoenix

(To Love and Lose Part 2)

by Ryan Kinney

 

It started with a broken heart. Through the crack seeped liquid fire. It engulfed me, burning away all that I was. The flames shall purify me. Boil me down to my base components, and then rebuild me. From the ashes will rise a new entity.

 

Who am I?

 

Following my divorce I began an identity quest dubbed The Phoenix. It is my own personal trial by fire. Fire is the essence of life itself. As it destroys it also creates. I will create a new life from the remnants of my former, a persona not defined by another.

 

Chapter 1-The Quest

 

Depression and Suicide

“…my life before you was very chaotic and unstable. You were the stability I needed and the foundation on which I built my life.  I never doubted that you would always be there for me. You were my rock. Of all the people that had disappointed me you never let me down. Yet you did, You pulled the rug out from under me without warning and the foundation upon which I built my entire life crumbled…” –email correspondence to Lisa; Nov. 21, 2008

 

It took four months to undo ten years of my life. A debilitating depression overwhelmed me. I never saw anything in my life, but Lisa. What did I have left without her? What would I do? Darkness clouded my heart.

 

A rusty blade in my hand. A message in blood written on the broken mirror.

I lay in the tub, leaking crimson life. In my haze I barely make out the words.

What does my final message to the world say? I cannot remember why it hurt so much.

In a few minutes it won’t matter anymore. What the hell did I write?

I can only think of one thing that torments me enough to drive me to this darkness.

Trailing down in letters, clotting on the wall…

“I loved you.”

 

This revolving drama played on a loop in my mind. I was lost, a walking corpse. All I felt was cold hollowness.

“All that is left is emptiness, an empty house, an empty soul.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008

I so badly just wanted the hurt to stop. In my tunnel vision existence I was oblivious to those whose hearts bled for mine. All my substance and passion was gone. Lisa took my heart with her and left nothing inside. Without her my existence seemed meaningless. The cloaked figure smiled, offering me the almost irresistible temptation of sweet release.

“Do I give in to the darkness? Let it consume me”-journal excerpt

Ultimately, though, there came a day when I awoke from the fog. I was living outside myself watching this unknown drone on a worthless trek. One phrase finally broke through the shell.

“What a waste!”

The Phoenix was born in that moment. The match was struck to light the way on the difficult road to recovery.

“The pieces of my soul are on the floor for everyone to trample on.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008

I was in over my head. I needed help. A therapist helped at first, but the relationship quickly cheapened because I was essentially paying for a friendship. Antidepressants proved to work too well. I have a manic level of natural intensity. Lexapro ignited fireworks inside my brain. Both, however, gave me the nudge I needed to help myself. Eventually, I grew beyond the need for crutches. A previously unrecognized army of supporters each lent their kindling to the fires. One day at a time I battled my inner demons until I was ready to accept happiness again.

“You will be amazed on how much of the original Ryan is back. Why? Because I'm over my depression about change because something I feared more came to fruition.  I lost you.  I'm doing my best to survive from that, but my past fears now seems trivial and meaningless in comparison.”-email correspondence to Lisa; Sept. 8, 2009

 

Denial and Desperation

“Run, Run away Ryan. Open another book, turn on the TV, surf the Net. Delve into your fantasies and escape reality. It’s how you survived your childhood…”-journal excerpt; Oct. 2, 2008

The cracks in my facade were beginning to show. I shielded myself in delusions. I lied to myself to soften the full scope of Lisa’s betrayal. I more than lied. I was absolutely sure. I trusted her with my life. I trusted a lie. I was living a lie. I betrayed myself more than she ever did. The realizations came in shards, each piece punching holes in my heart.

I wallowed in self-pity and desolation.

I yearned so badly to feel some warmth, anybody’s warmth.

 

The New Girls

Upon Lisa’s departure I sought to quench my loneliness in the convenient woman around me. For a moment’s time, they took pity on me.

Rebound-I immediately sought solace in the arms of a good friend. She’s always shown me nothing but love and idolization. I was ashamed for disrespecting her and our friendship. I knew full well that our brief encounters were all that would ever be between us.

Crazy Chick-She was a brute of a woman, yet conversely, very maternal and comforting. She had a unique talent for forcefully ripping out my raw emotions, breaking through the masks. As she said, though, “I’m not Lisa.” Pathetically, that’s exactly what I wanted.

One Night Stand-ups-Several brief encounters fed my addiction for attention. Like a junkie with a needle, my appetite grew. Desperation was becoming my scarlet letter.

“…but it did seem that the thing we are most proud of and the thing we are most ashamed of are but the front and the back of the same coin. They torture and thrill all at once.”-Grotesque; Natsuo Kirino

I felt guilty and dirty, yet loved for but an instant. These experiences were very cathartic. I had completely lost the ability to cry, feel pain, rage, or joy. They were the prefect drug, just so that I may feel again. Without these women to reopen the wounds, the numbness would have consumed me.

“Every angel has a little devil inside them.”-Manda; 2009

What attracted me to these women was mock chivalry. Each had their own “hard luck” story. So ingrained in me is the comic book ideal of heroism that I constantly seek to rescue the damsel in distress. Women will always be my kryptonite. However, as Crazy Chick put it, “ When is it time for you to be rescued?” The divine irony is, it was they who saved me.

It too, was not to last. A long period of isolation followed, as the women grew tired of babysitting me. Another lie to myself, a band-aid on a wound desperately needing stitches.

 

The Crush

Hers was the first light I allowed to pierce the darkness. She did more to heal me than any who said, “Yes.” Her secret, she said, “No.”

It has always been my curse to be eternally misunderstood and underestimated. I could see her scars bled the same as mine, although hers had begun to clot long ago. I am attracted to those who have a depth chiseled by adversity.

I identified with her. Her intelligence far exceeded my own, an Einstein in a circus. My eyes saw straight to her soul, seeing only the gorgeous woman she was on the inside. My friends would point out my eyes would sparkle whenever I spoke of her.

Yes, I loved her, but only in transition. We came from different worlds, but met as wounded soldiers on the battlefield. She was the catalyst to open my eyes. A sweet smile for my shredded soul.

“A worn beaten heart trapped in by bars.” From “Painless” by Tracy Reed

She held the key to my self-imposed imprisonment. My growing frustration with her opened the door for my transformation. For all her grace, all her amazing potential, she was wasting away in the same feeding trough as me.

“You can do better.”

Then it hit me…

“I can do better!”

I began to rebuild my empire. My never-queen rejected me…

I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

 

The Emotional Spectrum

“Stuck in a prison of abstract ideas and overpowering emotions.”-Zach; mypsace blog

Shock

1)      ‘I don’t love you anymore.”

2)      Letter…”I can’t wait until my divorce is over!”

3)      Ryan-“So I guess this means we’re getting a divorce.”

Lisa-“Well, yeah. You knew that.”

4)      “Ryan, they’re together, and have been.”

5)      “I’m moving out.”

6)      “By the State of Ohio, I hereby grant this dissolution.”-Judge; Dec. 30, 2008

 

Six bullets to my heart, six separate, devastating phrases that brought about Armageddon. I gave her a decade of my meager existence, nearly half my life. She threw me away like garbage, and couldn’t have been happier.

 

Fear

As the gun smoke drifted, I clutched my breast. I was frozen in horror that I’d lose myself along with her. Fear, you see, was the beginning of the end for our marriage.

I never dealt well with change. When we bought our house, the combat that ensued left me crippled. I ultimately built myself into a comfort zone again. “I don’t know what I want to do” was always an excuse for me. I lay stagnant and complacent with no true purpose or direction.

It was Lisa that first took action. She sought to elevate us from the ranks of lower middle class into which we were born. I fought her, determined to lay docked in the doldrums. “Leave me alone in my bubble.” I made attempts, but with each failure became depressed. She became frustrated and took matters into her own hands. It is obvious she loved me then. She worked effortlessly to give us a better life.

I was blind to the truth and in time Lisa lost sight of her motives. She plodded on, mechanically, no longer sure of why. She drove herself to extreme exhaustion, afraid, that if she stopped, for even a moment, she’d realize it was all for naught. She lost faith in our combined, bright vision.

So, she did the only thing she knew how. She ran away, straight to another as miserable as her. She kept running, further and further, taking greater risks. All just to not have to feel her own hollowness.

She left and my phobia ended there. What followed was a newfound fear. “I don’t know what I want to do” became “What the hell do I do?” I was afraid I was doomed to be alone the rest of my life.

 

Sadness

“Are you ok?”

“We’re worried about you.”

“How are you, Ryan?”…

 

“MISERABLE!”-Ryan

 

I always speak the truth. I’ve never felt so surrounded and alone in all my life.

 

Anger

“Like koi in a dirty pond, you can see your rage barely hiding below the surface.”-Erin Kompik

The most intense rage fueled The Phoenix. I lashed out at everything. Everyone was burned. I was pissed off and the world would pay. The spectacle burned so bright it threatened to eradicate all that I was.

“I can feel bitterness and anger coming. I am fighting for control over the anger”-journal excerpt; Oct. 1, 2008

“The seams in my heart leak nothing, but hostility.”-journal excerpt; Oct. 6, 2008

“I’ve become a monster. I once loved someone so hard I would die for her. Now all I can feel is scorn and hate. My heart is twisted and black. I fear I will become the bitter man my father is. I hate myself for being so.”-journal excerpt; Sept. 30, 2008

Who was I so angry with? For all the hurt I felt from Lisa, I was most angry at myself. How could I let this happen? How could I have been so blind? My blood boiled as I berated myself. The loss I suffered left my heart festering with hatred, as nothing but fire and volatility overtook it.

“The red light of rage is violent action without consideration of consequence. It is uncontrollable. So I will unleash it.”-Final Crisis, Rage of the Red Lanterns

Then, the root of another anger broke through the fury.

“I know that you may not see it now, but time really will heal these wounds.”-Michelle Kinney

She was right. I had absolved myself of my original rage. I had forgiven her. I could forgive myself. I couldn’t be held responsible for another’s irresponsibility. The anger dissipated into the smoke. It left behind a few flickers, but I’ll not extinguish them yet. I still have a use for that rage.

“Do not be afraid to expose the darkness. Only by bringing it to the light can it ever truly be resolved.”-audio journal excerpt; Aug. 16, 2009

 

Love and Happiness

During my marriage, hers was the only love I let myself feel. Then, she took it with her when she left. I felt scorned and unwanted, a refuse of human waste.

I was wrong. I am a man that seeks love as an end all for my existence. Lisa unlocked my caged heart. Over the next decade I cultivated relationships with countless individuals. There was more love in my life than I ever realized. They were there when she wasn’t. My parents sacrificed everything to give me a life and family they never had. Lisa’s family had become my permanent family. She divorced me. I did not divorce them. All my friends gave all they could. Even my harsh enemies stepped off the battlefield, for they understood the casualties of this war. All of them, a shining sea of compassion, poured their hearts into mine. Their light overcame the darkness. When I finally crawled out of the pit, they got me to my feet.

“For them, I must continue.”-Naoko Takeuchi

I had to be strong. I owed it to them to survive. They gave me their love to fill in my missing pieces. For all I had been given, I could never give up or give in.

“I am meant for greatness. I am meant for happiness, for joy, for me.”-Zach; myspace blog

 

Chapter 2-Evolution

 

Picking up the Pieces

“I need to be out there.

Living.

Looking for my own life…

I need to open my mouth.

I need to be heard.

I need to live.

You’re gone…

I’m not.”

-Goth Girl Rising; Barry Lyga.

It was time to rebuild that which had been broken. My life was fragmented chaos. I needed an order to the chaos, or more to my tastes, organized chaos; anarchy with purpose. I learned to become a master strategist. The civil war I waged on myself demanded a general.

STEP 1-Stabalize finances.

My pact with the devil to keep my beloved home required emptying the coffers completely. How delicious the irony that I wound up working the same long weeks as Lisa.  Hard work and sacrifice were absolute necessities if I was ever to afford to live again. It was Lisa that taught me that. The only difference, I must never lose sight of why. Money is not the reason for existence. I simply needed enough to achieve my goals.

“Money is nothing.  It is an imaginary concept.  Its only value is what we put into it.  While often a necessary evil to survive, it is not important.  The only possession of true value is time.”- The Most Valuable Possession; 2009

STEP 2-Tear down the Mausoleum.

My home had become a testament to a dead marriage. Lisa’s five day moving notice threw a grenade into my living space. It was disheveled and disorganized. It was no longer Ryan and Lisa’s. I had to reclaim it as my own. Out of respect for our past, I kept a few pieces of Lisa as a constant reminder. I will never forget where I’ve been.

“Your spirit helped build this place and it still flows through its walls.”-email correspondence to Lisa; Nov. 21, 2008

Physically putting my environment in order likewise put my mind into an order. As I rebuilt my home, it became the new foundation for my life. The Phoenix had a place to perch.

STEP 3-Know Happiness again.

“I seem to find that my great periods of change, evolution, and growth precede an ultimate betrayal from someone I’ve let close to my heart. Is survival mode the only way I can fuel my passion? Where do I find the love that ignites my will, yet does not drive me to complacency?”-audio journal; Aug 13, 2009

The answer, I needed to love myself again. I could not rely on someone else to complete me. I had to become independent, to be ok with being alone. I deserved to be happy, to be loved, above all, by myself.

This was going to be hard.

 

Breaking Codependency

Not having another physical body in the house left a void. Without another heartbeat close to mine, I stopped sleeping at night. My appetite was lost and I started shedding pounds. With my depression receding, I awoke to find I was living in a desolate wasteland. What would I do in this solitary confinement?

Utilizing survival skills my mother taught me, I used it. Ever the artist, I took the pieces and created an existence. Then I improved it, again and again. Loneliness is a disease that attacks only if you let it. I had to learn to accept myself, before I could expect anyone else to. I used the loneliness to redefine and rediscover myself. I would not rely on anyone to do for me. My honor and respect for my loved ones demanded I do for myself. The stifling quiet, the sleepless nights taught independence. The silence used to frustrate and anger me. Now, I use it for peaceful reflection and meditation. The gears have learned to turn gently without the noise.

“He who lives in solitude may make his own laws.”-Publilius Syrus

Solitude doesn’t mean always alone, either. Throughout my life I fostered relationships with a myriad of souls. At any moments notice any one would stop to help. I broke the habit of needing someone by knowing their love.

Without corruption and interference from another my true self emerged. Who I was, tethered to someone else, disappeared into the ether. The other demanded attention. The twisted smile returned to my face as a series of startling revelations struck me.

 

Epiphanies

“I can do better”

“I spend most of my week in a semi-conscience trance watching multi-million dollar machines work. They are more alive than I am.”-The Blue Collar Lament, 2008

I was mired in stagnation. I had built a comfort zone, then walled myself in. The Phoenix obliterated that prison and allowed my first view of the outside world. It was breathtaking and frightening. The Crush, quite literally, crushed this world. I had a reference point for where I was and it was pathetic. I had the intelligence and vitality to far surpass living as a commercial commodity. I could do so much better. “I don’t know” was no longer an option.

This rebirth required jettisoning my former limitations. If I was to improve I had to murder my weaknesses. Television was the first of my ruthless casualties.

“During my childhood TV had become (like many Americans) a surrogate parent. To escape from the neglect I felt from my parents and the world in general I delved into its fantasy worlds. On TV, things like love and courage had a tangible power. People were passionate and felt real emotions. Television had become my idol, mentor, and family.”-Destruction Breeds Creation thesis, 2009

It was not reality. It was another lie and I was damn sick of lies. I yearned for a world of truth. Then I asked myself, “Why couldn’t this be a world of love, courage, passion, and feeling.” If I was going to change the world, I had some work to do.

The next imperfection to detonate was pessimism. “I can do better” required a firm, optimistic belief that “I can do it.”  Too long, I allowed negativity to chain me down. Light was erupting all around me. All I had to do was open my eyes. The blue searing flames of joy demanded hope.

Hope lifted me up and wouldn’t allow misery to drag me back down.

“Some people live life. Others just suffer through it.”- Z. Gabrielle

My attitude upgraded, I applied it to my daily situational fallacies. The ultimate downfall of The School of Lisa is constant anxiety. I discovered most events were hardly a crisis. With careful thought, most could be overcome with little effort.

Everything came full circle when I wrecked my vehicle. I fell asleep and struck an oncoming minivan. I came home that night expecting a meltdown. I expected to be angry, tense, and nervous. It never happened. Best of all, no one berated or chided me. Nothing waited for me, but comforting silence. My family and friends supported me, no injuries were reported, and repairs were completed. Life continued with a steady rhythm.

“One of the nice things about problems is that a good many of them do not exist except in our imaginations.”-Steve Allen

My fear of change was the first spoil in my marriage. “NEVER AGAIN!” If I was ever to tap into my inexhaustible ambition I couldn’t stand at the precipice and be terrified to jump. The only absolute is that nothing is absolute. I stood at the ledge. If I didn’t jump I would be pushed. I closed my eyes, let go, and threw everything I was into the fires.

 

The Chrysalis

“I am transformed!”-Beast Machines, 1999

I was emerging as a new man. The struggle back up made me more than I was. I wear my scars proudly. Never is anything asked that I won’t answer honestly. I gained strength enough to make myself stronger. The fear was gone. I reclaimed my confidence and bravado. I pushed the boundaries of my limits to prove the only limit to my potential was effort.

I learned to be a survivor. My resourcefulness afforded me opportunities to reclaim all that I had lost. I can turn almost anything into something useful. We live in a disposable society. I feed off of that. Your trash is not only my treasure, it’s my sustenance. You may see garbage. I see endless possibilities.

I gained a richness in experience that made a man out of me. I grew up, but never lost sight of my childish nature. Unlike many adults, I didn’t have to kill the boy to become the man.  My inner child is an integral part of the whole.

I have a great passion for knowledge. I learned everything from simple tasks any adult should know to great, classic and cutting edge literature. Even now. I crave so much more. It is a voracious appetite that will never be satiated.

I learned to feel the love of my family and friends. Each one provided a piece to the jumbled puzzle I was building.

I am a proud geek. Action figures are my Renaissance sculptures. Comics are the Old Testament, while anime is the New. A cyborg is a study in psychology and physiology. Zombies make a statement to our fears of morality and mortality. The fantasies are no longer an escape, but a metaphor for my reality.

I am a man of symbolism. I put feeling and energy into everything. I put meaning behind the ordinary and recognize the extraordinary.

I have to be different all costs. Different means unique which means special.

“Born different, sworn to make a difference.”-X-men ad campaign, 1998

I am sarcastic. It’s a defense mechanism. Deal with it!

Without hindrance, my artist nature flourished. My art and my self are one and the same.  It is an expression and extension of me.  Art is one of my emotions. I study the relationship between color, feeling, and perception. As such, I never explain my art. Tell me what it means to you!  It furthers my study of how people see things. However, being an artist is a double-edged sword.  On one hand you can create amazing things.  It can fill your life with a depth others will never know.  On the other, it also fills you with a volatile energy that if not released, will explode.  It consumes your very soul. My art is a quest to bring color and light into an otherwise black and white world. It is my legacy, each piece, my immortal children.

I am a walking contradiction. I strive for balance through contradictions by being one thing and its polar opposite simultaneously. I’m a little bit of everything wrapped up in one.

“Ryan is like a combustible ball of energy-one never knows in which direction he will explode.”-Maria Louise Welch; 2007

 

The Clark Kent Mask

The final step in my metamorphosis required a physical overall. I needed to present to the world how different, yet the same I felt on the inside.

The Clark Kent Mask is the addition of glasses to my armor. Just what was Clark Kent trying to hide with those glasses? He was hiding a superman; someone so amazing most couldn’t comprehend. He was alien and foreign, an outsider in this world.

It was more than just hiding his true self; it was protecting others from himself. If I was ever to meet new people I had to stop scaring them away on first contact. I wear all my emotions and intensity on my face. It’s a side effect of being brutally honest. I’m not afraid of who I am. The world’s just not ready to handle it.

“If I allow you too close, you may see my scars.”-from “Painless” by Tracy Reed

The Clark Kent Mask is also about representing myself. Glasses are a universally recognized symbol of intelligence. Perhaps for once I could break the assumption of incompetence and stop trying to prove it. Figure it out on your own!

How ironic, that to appear intelligent, I had to play into mass ignorance. You wear glasses, you must be smart. Further proof that the world is one big joke and we’re the punchline. I have chosen to laugh in the face of the absurdity of our species.

“Go ahead, underestimate me. Assume you know me and try to plug me into one of your stereotypes. You’ll never figure me out. When you look at me, know the glasses are laughing at you.”

My glasses are a weapon in a war on ignorance and judgment. I am camouflaged behind them. I don’t want you to see everything I am. I want you to put it together, piece by piece, like I did.

 

Taking Action

“There is no such thing as I can’t, only I won’t.”-John A. Kinney Jr.

The core of the emotional spectrum is the blinding white-hot light of passion; the desire to do, act, and feel. The Phoenix reignited the burning passion within me. My life had become a competition for survival. With the fear of uncertainty exiled, I jumped into the crusade.

Strategize-Planning was essential for success. First, I had to maintain what I had. Borrowing manufacturing concepts from my blue-collar persona I developed a detailed and balanced maintenance program for my home. Next, I had to find a way to balance my work schedule with my life. Balance had to be achieved to maintain my sanity. I set aside time each week for my family and friends. The greatest repayment for all their kindness was my time. Art is an absolute necessity in my life. Without an outlet for all this creative energy, the newly constructed framework of my mind would crumble. Each time I feel refreshed and reborn. I also had to maintain my health. I could not keep up this rigorous lifestyle, ill and infirmed. The mundane are always looking for some disease, some excuse for apathy. Health is half about how you feel and half about how you think you feel. I made checkups and keep a proactive chiropractic schedule for past injuries. I often tap into large stores of adrenaline. Due to this, my energy crashes in momentary lulls in activity. I developed an exercise routine to awaken and stabilize these fluxes. Having lost weight, I vowed to keep it off. I cut portions and balanced my diet to reasonable levels. Temptation sneaks in often, but I do my best to curb it.

The downfall of being a master strategist is monotony. It would be easy for the procession to fall into a rut if I didn’t learn to go around them. Every so often the road needs to bend. A little shore leave is necessary to keep me focused. Each month I sit down and ask myself, “How am I going to enjoy my time here? What stories will I have to tell?” I take advantage of every opportunity for fun. If I should die on the battlefield I’d go out in a blaze of glory.

Attack- My dreams now had definition, direction, and structure. The newfound freedom allowed me to move headlong in my life with little consequence. First on my list was acting on what Lisa denied me. I purchased a truck, tattooed my personal symbol on my arm, and got a loving cat. For eight years a coming of age sculpture was pinned in the back of my mind. It erupted into reality as a twisted symbol of the new being I had created.

I rebuilt my castle into something reflecting my unique personality, forever in constant flux. I created vivid art reflecting a man at war with himself. I went camping with friends, traveled, and stayed home. I built and I tore down. I discovered what was important to me, not anyone else. I never stopped to ask, “Should I?” I just kept screaming, “I will!” Every minute was full of life. I jumped into frays without fear of tomorrow. “Tomorrow never comes” or “Tomorrow always comes.” It matters not which. Above all I laughed, loved, and lived. I broke away from myself to find myself.

“The moon only shines for those who request it.” You Hear Me; Unknown

People are defined by their actions. You are what you do. If you do nothing, then you are nothing.

If you try everything, you can be anything. Nothing ever happens to you. You have to make it happen.

I ACT, THEREFORE I AM.

“If we did all the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves”-Thomas Edison

The Future-

“The children most broken by the world are the ones most likely to change it.”-Frank Warren, founder of PostSecret at Penn State Erie College; Dec. 10, 2009

What’s next? The seemingly endless road of my life stretched before me. What was I going to do with it? How would I make damn sure I didn’t waste my vast potential?

I’ve stopped saying, “I’ve always wanted to” and now repeat, “I will.” Following though on my promises is a must. I am nothing, if not a man of my word.

I am finishing a dream that took life the day I bought my home. My studio will encompass an entire summer’s worth of hard physical labor and two years of funding. It is the last of my former life’s denials.

I am attending my first anime convention and traveling to Europe. I’ll not allow myself to settle into a debilitating comfort zone again.

I am returning to school. It is the final step in this metamorphosis and the first in the next stage of my evolution. I am a scholar at heart and have many natural skills. My goal is to develop these to their maximum and improve upon my weaknesses.  I will never be perfect, but I’m trying to fill in the gaps.

“Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something.”-Henry David Thoreau

Eventually, I will love and marry again. I believe in the power of love. Love will redeem me. Only the next woman I embrace can quell the inferno within. My only question for her will be, ”Can you feel the flames?”

I am destined to fail again. I am no oracle and cannot predict the future. I will make mistakes, a lot of them. I sincerely hope to continue making mistakes. How else will I ever learn? We are not capable of grasping all that is. We can only poke at it with sticks and take away small morsels. We are all the same is the fact that we have all made mistakes and struggled. Yet we are all different. We make a variety of different mistakes so that we may teach not only ourselves, but also others. Equality through diversity and adversity. I now know that when I fall again I will rise stronger each time. I look forward to it.

“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.”-Robert Kennedy

The Phoenix still burns brightly today. It lights my way down an intense path. I can now embrace the future without fear or doubt. Most of all, I want this world to see how great I can be. My little slice of Earth and all in it will be better because I was here. It is our greatest legacy. I will be a better artist, son, friend, lover, man, and child. I will change this world, but first I must earn that right.

"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children...to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 3-Open Closure

 

Forgiveness

“The noblest revenge is forgiveness.”

Forgiveness is a natural part of maturity. As children we are wards and extensions of our parent’s will. The, come the teen years. We rebel against everything they stand for. We resent them for attempting to cage our spirit. This is a necessary period if we are ever to develop our own identities. We must break away from the womb. The transition from adolescent to adult demands forgiveness. We must forgive our parents for all we hated them for. Only by forgiving can we understand that all they did was for the best. If we do not we are doomed to spend the rest of our lives mired in childish insecurities.

One day the rains will wash over me and douse the flames. They will cleanse my soul and absolve me of my former self. Forgiveness is the key to growth. I cannot force or rush it. I must allow it to happen in its own time. One day I will forgive Lisa, but I have to finish forgiving myself first.

 

 

The Dark Muse

To Lisa C. Meek…

“I am getting over you. I can always see your faded image in the background, but you are no longer my destination. Facing our defeat, all I saw was misery when I thought of you. I was blinded to all our happy times. Today my eyes are open. I can see both and am so happy and proud that I knew you.

You hurt me. You broke my trust. You broke us. You lost sight. You lost faith. You lost everything. You abandoned me. You couldn’t be there for me when I was my weakest. You’ll not be there when I’m my strongest. I have a lot of empathy for you. There is so much you don’t understand. Your biggest mistake was in assuming I didn’t care. I never stopped caring. You seem so small and weak to me now. I sincerely hope you grow as I did. Don’t get me wrong; a piece of my soul will always belong to you. There isn’t a moment I wouldn’t hesitate to answer a call from you. I would do the same for any friend. You will refuse to make that call. I will not beg anymore. I’ve reclaimed my dignity and respect from you. Trust someone, not everyone will disappoint you. Stop harboring so much hate. It will destroy you.

“It must be impossible to live if you don’t trust anyone. Maybe it means you don’t trust yourself.”-Natsuo Kirino

“The opposite of love is not hate. If you hate someone, then you must care, at least a little.”-Goth Girl Rising, Barry Lyga

I feel great appreciation for all that you did for me. Thank you so much for making me all that I am. The greatest thing you ever did was say, “I do,” the second was, “I don’t.” You set me on fire and destroyed my world. All, so I could build a better one.

The Phoenix rages on. I’m burning my bridges as fast as I build them. Try not to get burned.

 

I will never forget you.

Goodbye, Lisa.”

 

 

Life Lessons

1)      Never be afraid to ask why. Learn something, anything everyday.

2)      Life is about balance. All things in moderation and diversity. Family, friends, solitude, work, play, joy, frustrations, sorrow…Be a little bit of everything.

3)      Change is inevitable. Transform and evolve.

4)      Never lose sight of who you are. Do not be afraid of yourself. In doing so you lose all that you worked for and any meaning for existence.

5)      Never regret anything. The mistakes of the past shape who you are today. Without them you wouldn’t be the great person you are today. Everyone not only makes mistakes, but needs to. Your failures show your limits and strengths. Overcome them, grow from them, learn, and evolve. Don’t wallow in the past. It does not define you.

6)      Recognize something beautiful everyday. This world is full of unrequited beauty. Open your eyes. There’s enough pain to make the whole world shed tears. There’s as much joy to make it weep all the same.

7)      Nothing worth having is ever easy. Live hard, love hard. Push through the pain. Deal with it. Survive and grow, forgive everyone. The hard times enrich the good ones.

8)      Apathy is suicide for your soul. Do something! Break your comfort zone. Push the limits of your potential.

9)      The purpose of life is to live

 

Who am I?

 

I am fire, passion, energy, color, light, warmth, and volatility.

I feel color. I bleed color. The same crimson runs through me, as does everyone else. I am average and yet, not. I am sometimes this and other times that. There is no consistency.

I am my layers. I am different. I can never be you, because I am me. I am a little bit of everything you think of me and a lot of what you don’t.

I am a paradox. I see the world as color and feeling, fire and ice, machine and nature, reflections and shards, darkness and light.

Who am I?

I am The Phoenix.

I am Ryan.

The world will never be the same again.

 

 

To Be Continued Indefinitely…

The End?

 

 

 

“Creative, Insightful…has a love for life and a life full of love.”-Lisa C. Kinney; 2007

 

 

 

 

 

Written 12/30/09