The First Chapter:

Here is the first, most up to date chapter of my story. I wrote it over two years ago and have been editing it as I have found time. It is more of an introduction than a first chapter, but it is the beginning. Enjoy.

Everything’s better with music. You put on the headphones as the world around you drowns out helping you know everything is going to turn out all right. It’s okay to smile. You sit and watch the people, hurrying to and fro…Pictures being taken, hugs being shared, people sleeping on one another’s shoulder’s waiting for another plane. And with every person, every piece of luggage, every hand being held, there is a story different from any other story ever told on the face of the earth. Each person, each struggle, each pain, each triumph all collide in the public arena. But like I said, you put on your headphones and the world seems better.

I’m nothing special, not a genius or a model or some kind of amazing athlete. Just a guy with some words that get put together in my head and form sentences, some which are good and some which a little line shows up on my computer screen when I type them telling me they’re not even sentences. I’m just a guy, my name isn’t as important as who I am and what I want to do. For all you know, I could be your next-door neighbor, the person sitting next to you in a cubicle, your classmate. The point is I could be anyone, and yet the world would never be the same had I never existed, had my story never been shared, had my life never touched another or another had never touched my life.

This moment, I’m sitting waiting for a plane. This moment is the start of the rest of my life; an adventure that I’ve dreamed of, of a life that I missed out on. In order for you to know the hope and uncertainty that lies ahead, a picture of the disaster behind needs to be taken. I’d like to believe that there’s always hope in uncertainty. It’s not like I know what’s going to happen, but I know what could happen. I know what has happened and I know it can’t get much worse than that. The advantage of hitting bottom is that it’s only up. You can only fall back down to where you were. It can never get worse than the worst. So that means, short of death, which could be considered better than the disaster behind, the uncertainty ahead contains hope.

I was born a normal kid. Simply put, I was average. Average cuteness, average height (I’m lying here. I’m short, smaller than average height. The advantage is that this is a book and you can only judge me by the picture in the about the author section and I’ve instructed the photographer to make me look average height.), average weight, all average. The only thing that wasn’t average about me, other than my height and possibly my hairline, was my family. They are what I call screwed up, messed up beyond all recognition. For a long time I considered myself not to have a family, or at least not a family that I’d publicly admit to having. That has really changed throughout the years, though. In fact I find my family getting bigger, not in the sense that all my siblings or parents for that matter are popping out kids, but in the sense that I find myself adding to my family because of the relationships I’ve built with others.

You know, one thing that seems to always happen when you’re waiting is you seeing someone who looks like they’re running from something to somewhere. I don’t know who they are, but they have a look in their eye. Its sad mixture of hurt, fear, and hope. They look around in wonder, knowing that there just might be something better just over the hill or on the landing strip of some other city airport. I know that look pretty well because I’m the one wearing it now. That hurt in the eyes is the past experiences. The fear is leaving the past behind because its all that you know. The hope is that you might just find a new life off that landing strip of some other city’s airport.

I have that restlessness in my spirit, like if this plane doesn’t come soon, I may never make it out of Chi-town, that’s Chicago if you’re wondering, and if this interview doesn’t go well, I’ve just wasted my not biological grandpa’s inheritance money on some dream that didn’t pan out. I’m entering my mid 20’s in a couple of weeks, graduating college and heading to Oregon or Colorado. I don’t know which, although by the end of the book you’ll actually know. A couple of years ago, I dropped out of high school. A couple days before that I came home to find I had been kicked out of my mom’s house. As a child I was abandoned by my dad, bounced around homes, watched my older brother almost commit suicide, and almost made an attempt on my own life. Yet with all that considered here I am, sitting in an airport waiting to leave for a job interview. I’m a couple of month’s from my bachelor’s degree and Brand New carrys away the time for me as the ticker scrolls by telling me my flight information while I wait to leave Chicago.

So I guess I'm supposed to update this with more blogs...right?

My friend imed, or is im'd, me today. He told me rather bluntly that I was supposed to update my blog more than once a week. I told him that I didn't want people to get tired of hearing from me. I mean what if I run out of ideas? What if I just sound annoying and/or whiny? Then the little box that says followers would decrease by at least 10% and I would have no one to share this with, except myself. This would be sad. I would cry, maybe not cry, maybe just frown.

And this leads me to my thoughts to write:
There's so much of me that comes up with great ideas of what to do, but fears actually doing them. I fear of all the possibilities falling apart at my feet. I fear my dreams lying on the ground in the form of broken shards of glass. A mirror shattered. I fear that one day I'll look down on those pieces. I'll pick up a shard, a triangle, just big enough piece to see my eyes. I will look into the eyes reflected back to me and see the dreams that I have never completed because they were never attempted. I will put the broken dream down and walk away, slowly letting the spark that the possibilities created dim from my eyes.

I started a blog, but what if I didn't write in it again. Just started it because I wouldn't know where it would go...of where I would go with it. I started a book, but what if I just stopped and didn't complete it for fear of who would read it, or better who wouldn't read it. I started writing, but what if I stopped before anyone could tell me I was good, or wasn't.

The reality is that the fear of what I won't accomplish will only help me accomplish nothing. Maybe for today...I should update my own blog. I should add a chapter to my book. I should email a literary publicist with my book proposal. I should face my fear and see what happens.

Fear stops us from achieving our full potential. I was backpacking with my brother once on the Appalachian Trail at the beginning of January. We were walking between these giant oak trees during the early morning. The sun just rising, shining through low clouds that linger all day. As we hiked to a peak, over a rough and worn out trail my brother looked me square in the eyes and said, "99% of the people never live to their full potential." I guess at the end of the day, I hope to part of the 1% that he considers having reached full potential. I guess I'll never know till I actually try.

So here's to trying. Here's to, "I should." What's your "I should..."?

What Have I Done? Is This a Pandora's Box Of Sorts?

Hi.

I was once told to start with a simple "Hello", and the only thing simpler then "Hello" is "Hi". In all cordinallness I would then start this with an introduction. So I've attached a self portrait that my brother used on his facebook profile, since we must look alike because he is my brother (adoptive brother) and I am lazy, I have stolen it. It exists in the left corner of the screen. If you subtract the hair, it is a portrait more aligned with my drawing ability. Which as you can tell is quite impressive. This is my introduction. "Good To Meet You". We smile...you may laugh...I'm funny. yay...now what the heck have I started? What am I doing? Is this a Pandora's Box of sorts? (if you don't know what "Pandora's Box" is, I will not judge you for googling it.)

I am writing a book. I like to think I am a writer (although I may not be at all). The title: Wanderings of a Broken Hearted Boy. It is true. It is real. It is raw. It is authentic. It is me. It being "ME" makes me nervous. I am random and weird, so my nervousness makes complete sense. I have a lot of stories. Here are some: I grew up a not quite, kind of sort foster kid. I went to college. I was not supposed to, it happened after working full time. I spent multiple hours in the same room with a domesticated pet alligator, name Alice. I have been homeless. I have planned on dropping out of college. I now have a Masters degree (don't be impressed they give them to anyone, maybe not). I now have a job. I have dreams. I have a hope to write for my job.

This circular thinking leads me back to the fact that in order to be a writer that can truly be heard I need to have a platform. A platform. I am short so this platform should be relatively tall so as to let people hear me. This is my platform. But I am small so my platform has plenty of room to share. I am one person with a lot of stories. I want to share those stories with you. I want to help us do whatever it is "us" wants to do. I have no clue how to do that. But I can tell you stories. I can tell you my story and the stories of those I see in this world. We can do something awesome by being real. Through real stories. Real questions. Real hopes.

That's what this is.
Me.
You.
Real.

The reality is that this could be an epic fail. My book could be an epic fail. I am hesitant to post this...to make this a reality. But what if by some strange, weird reality we start a conversation that inspires people, to be...well, themselves?

So join me on the journey of writing a book. Of being real. Of Living Life.

Oh and Tell your friends. Tell your neighbors. Tell you cat, dog, ferret, badger, or gopher. Tell your sister. Tell your brother. Tell your computer..Hell Tell anyone! Lets journey together!