A List Hides Here

I want to learn Ti Chi. Wear red shoes. Wear blue shoes. Visit old cinema in non-ergonomic chairs. Sit in an overstuffed, red chair; ignoring the smooth fabric. Engage conversation about grammar, editing, computer vs pen/paper, authorship, and old typewriters. Delude my use of 'apple, s'. Patchwork a room with framed sketches from Frank Lloyd Wright prints. Sleep with the door closed. Leave the sweater in the drawer. Peel printed text back like nourishment. Detach strange tendrils, suction cups, from the poetic scraps; produce.

Anticipation like a first day

Over the last couple weeks there has been a noticeable tenseness in my shoulders. Ben, one of my current roommates and massage therapist, made mention of it simply by looking at me from five feet away. Shoulders like stone Crazy Horse at dusk, minus the headdress. Things became a battle for sanity, like painting faces, black streaks like fire from a gun's mouth. A prairie of tufts like an old man, a gust that rushes through it, and the necessity for resolution. Vendettas and vengeance doesn't dwell but a knowing of need.

And that all leads me to now; well, earlier today; in less flowery language, in a parked car, with Jon on the phone with the namesake of whom I waited to hear from. Then came a similar movement to Jon's, from pocket to ear, and word was given. And an dissimilar movement to Jon's, a crumbling of encased rock. Ceremonious and punctilious disrobing of apprehensive baggage.

Yes, I will begin doing service at the BNC in the next two weeks and will remain there for two years.

Agreed

"Not to be absolutely certain is, I think, one of the essential things in rationality." ~ Bertrand Russell

Station 5: The Pearl

Station 1: The Service
-Two years of service at the BNC
- Doesn't matter the position
- Remain in a state of service
- Elation
- Be Happy

Station 2: The Education
- Finish this semester at Oakton
- Begin at DePaul next semester
- Complete degree in less than a year
- Graduation
- Be Happy

Station 3: The Higher Education
- Apply to masters program at DePaul
- Complete masters in writing
- Do this in the two to three years necessary
- Graduation
- Be Happy

Station 4: The Career
- Apply for work
- Write books, short stories, etc.
- Establish myself
- Finish writing a least one book in first year
- Be Happy

Station 5: The Family
- Get married
- Move
- Have kids
- Possibly move again
- Be Happy

Instructions:
The following process should not take long. Nearing the ending of the last station I should be entering my thirties, which is daunting right off the bat, and it will be around this time when things begin to solidify. Life might not start as quickly as most believe. This is, absolutely, a process that requires time, gestation, and developmental exercises to complete. Notwithstanding, several lives that I see right now confound me. People aren't happy, disappointed with their lives, angry that their "chance" didn't arrive; despite the very real possibility that they simply missed or weren't awake enough to grab hold and enjoy. This is the goal here as I've figured out my path. The goal is to take that path. My path. Follow it until it's end in the next life, and, hopefully, have made progress enough in this world to feel comfortable with the amount of service; or not, and wish I could spend more time doing so. These are the things that make life enjoyable and full of cheek to cheek smiles: service, God, tests, and happiness. The good thing, for me (not to rub it in to anyone else) at this point, is recognition. It's not every day that someone see so clearly their path before them. So, I suppose the tribulations will take place throughout my life as a writer as opposed to the path it takes to get there. Smooth sailing until then, perhaps. I hope not. I hope difficulties continue to keep me grounded here until I'm ready to take that step into that other path of complete happiness, tranquility, and prayer.

Decatur! One night only!

It was nil, nil; Ecuador, Brazil twenty-one minutes in as we sat in affordable chairs at a table covered in linen and then clear plastic, walls held up by three framed pictures; one of them a naked woman kneeling in supplication before a clay pot full of various white flowers; if that's not indicative of what's been going on, I don't know what is. So that last part wasn't true, it wasn't how things were. Things have been fine. Better than they had been, but I'll return to the story. Brazil had just earned their first of many yellow cards, not long after Ecuador's in the overly physical futbol match. I looked over, "Dude sold it. Don't know if that was worth a yellow card." They showed the replay, continuing in Spanish as with the conversations surrounding us; it was definitely worth a yellow card.

Jon turned around to check on our waitress/cashier/greeter's current status as she walked back from the kitchen. Light eyes, light hair, dark skin. "I'm...getting pretty hungry," he rotated his body in the chair, looking back at me looking at the mounted TV. "Yes...Nice slide. All ball." Then my phone buzzed and I didn't recognize the number, so I walked across the room to take it. Turns out some of the people I went to school with were having a reunion, of sorts, in Decatur and they wanted me to drive down to party with them. I shifted on my non-braced knee and responded that I probably wouldn't go. My friend on the other line 'aww'ed and told me to drive out anyway, that it was only three hours. I patted my back pocket, checking again for my lost check card.

When I returned to the table I related to Jon the conversation. The party, the kids I hadn't seen in a long while. He asked me why I didn't want to go. I knew my answer, readied for it and gave him parts. I still didn't have a job (you know, one that I had started anyway); lost my credit card that morning (I found it later under one of my bags); and really didn't feel like driving three hours to watch people drink, stay the night there, and drive back the next morning. Without shifting attention away from the game, "Just seems like a good excuse to go out and have some fun," was his shrug.

Since then I've thought about what he said, about the party, the conversation and why I decided not to go. Truth is, I hadn't seen a lot of those kids for a reason. A lot of them brought out the worst in me, and few made me happy. Actually, thinking about it now brings on a feeling I had in my childhood of me stretching up in my bed. Not with my arms out, flexibility testing, but in that my body expanded upward; or just my head. It was an odd feeling mostly. Feeling mentally hyper-extended. If I drove out there, I would simply be forcing an pulling away from all that I've tried to accomplish here. Trust, comfort, love, unity across the board. It would be an experience of celebrating the deficiencies and problems that were in a forum that I'm not at all comfortable with yet.

So, I went out to dinner with a friend and watched TV on the couch all night...affected by thoughts of several of the things that happened to me while I attended that school. As images crashed about I wished I hadn't received that phone call at all. Could have focused on me asking for my friend to "send my love and hugs to everyone there." Despite knowing that she wouldn't say it that way. Wouldn't encapsulate who I've grown into. How when people say that college allowed them to find out who they were wasn't the same for me. It turned me on my head, kicked me backward, and I'm really uninterested in resuming that slide downward.

Things I've learned today...

A list in movements

Coughing can mess up your back

I have a few bone chips in my knee, one of which is almost an inch long and has been there for over seven years

I'll require surgery to remove those bone chips sooner than later

Sometimes I can actually feel bone meeting bone when I bend my knee

My body will be war tested before I shuffle off this moral coil

I can't believe I'm 25-years old

Some members of my family can't believe I'm 25-years old

A friend of mine said something that disturbed me significantly enough to where I'm just now getting to the point where I can talk about it, but I haven't brought it up

I'm not supposed to work at Motorola right now

Physical Therapy is going to be excruciating

There is hair in random places in my laptop

The television show 'Scrubs' makes me draw juxtapositions against my own life

None of this is news. I've known it all for quite a while. Its just taken me some time to accept it. Now begins the process of breaking things down and learning from them, I suppose. Reminding myself to remain positive is a first step, right?

Slave 1 is sitting, naked, on some boxes...

The ship from Star Wars

A moment exists every once in a while when things become perfect, and there's nothing left to do but question and run away. I'm there right now. I'm scared and confused and unsure as to the rightness of an event. What's worse, I'm wondering if the rightness itself is the test and not what led up to it. All while noticing the personal business card I received on Sunday afternoon, and I felt there was an odd moment of clarity that probably wasn't there in the first place.

A moment also existed when I stood in my room, right outside the bathroom, looked around, and realized that I was trapped. That despite all the progress made in several key areas, I still felt the cage bird cry. Ruffling hypothetical feathers under eyelids.

A moment, as well, continues to exist when I stood in the bathroom, taking out my contacts, thinking about how much I miss someone even though I saw him/her a couple days ago, but wasn't able to stop time long enough to bend an ear. Even as he/she walked by quickly and I remember that he/she is, in fact, the best friend I've ever had, and that I really need him/her to give me a hug right now.

A moment will continue to exist as I look at the mirror and remember that my blood sugar levels haven't been below 190 today, and that right before class I had no idea what I was reading for over an hour and my tester blinked "KEYTONES?". Thoughts of insulin firming up along the sides of my esophagus along with traces of a bronchial tube widener equally clinging.

Continuing a current trend...

There (SEE!!!) was a comment posted by a friend of mine, whom I love dearly and who's advice I seek out like he to the guitar section of any music store, consisting of quotes from Bahá’u’lláh’s Writings that he and then I found reinforced and supported what I've been writing about over the last week; me being a writer. And I really wanted to post them for all to see and think about.

"True reliance is for the servant to pursue his profession and calling in this world, to hold fast unto the Lord, to seek naught but His graces, inasmuch as in His hands is the destiny of all His servants." -- Bahá’u’lláh

"O My Servant! The best of men are they that earn a livelihood by their calling and spend upon themselves and upon their kindred for the love of God, the Lord of all worlds." -- Bahá’u’lláh

I don't like that I begin so many posts with words that start with 't'...

...and that's odd and great.

As my life continues - it's supposed to do this, obviously - with progress and regress and egress I've been told of my most recent trend. The most recent event/struggle that I'll continue to deal with for however it takes to get over it. Now, yes, it's weird that I said that someone told me this. That it didn't have anything to do with any real and direct thoughts or sparks to get me thinking, this was given to me rather fat-baby-on-a-lappedly; lappedly, it's one of mine. And yet, there it is, like a fat baby in the lap; see how that works, I enjoy happy, fat babies; they make me smile internally. Since I was given this gift - I'm calling it a gift for the obvious notion that the comment was made out of love, and was an indication that egress was soon approaching; or so I had perceived it - I've thought about it and realized a vicious train. This gift was recognizing that my immediate problem lies in productivity.

There was an extension, of course, of this in the idea that it stems from the concept that men are "supposed" to be productive. They're lives are measured by the things they accomplished, money they've raked in, children they've brought into the world, etc instead of simply being loved, respected, and admired for being men. This, it seems, is my problem. I'm stuck within that snake-swallow-its-tail (I like dashing words together. Dashing), perpetual motion of believing the world around me. Accepting its pitfalls instead of recognizing those pits, probably full of snakes trying to eat each other, falling.

Having something to do with me not having a consistent job for several months may also play a pivotal role as well, as a reminder of this issue. The kind of reminder that slides into your bed sheets on open-air nights, the sounds of animals was what lulled you to sleep in the first place. Another possible contributor might be family. As a half-Persian who was raised really, really Persian, those kinds of things are stressed. "How are you going to support a family?" "How are you going to be happy without money?" And, without having to say it: "How will anyone ever love you, marry you if you aren't being a man, successful, powerful, measured?" All right, so on that last one I ended up stretching and injecting my own structuralized vision of how I'm seeing things, but that's how things seem. A couple of those questions have been asked of me recently and I've crumbled. As if a part of me knows that they may be right, if only because it's been helixed into every DNA strand or woven into every story.

The painful part is the struggle involved right there. The Writings tell us that a detachment from material things is paramount to living a spiritual life; which is the ultimate goal. But the television and friends and the crux of our society hammers into us the "facts" that everyone wishes they were wealthy drove a BMW or Mercedes, slept with millions of "beautiful women", lived in a mansion on the California coast with stuff nearly falling out the doors. I've never wanted any of that. When I ask myself honestly if those things would make me happy, I keep coming back to a picture of a me popping my head out the front door of a bungalow or condo, inviting whomever I meet in for prayers, and mowing my lawn for myself.

I've always been a simple thinker in certain ways, and the most important of those ways has been living. I want that detached life. It's what my inner reality is built upon, the vision that if I want to live and be as Abdu’l-Bahá did, I need to strip my life down. Would I be happy in a giant house? No. I wouldn't. I saw people who lived that life in Texas and all too many of them didn't seem happy in the least bit. Some did and those people are wonderful and I love them, but those people are not me. I want to fill my soul with joyful, artistic, creative things and my home with my family. A HD-TV would make the outside world clearer, sure, but when did we start thinking that the outside world is right for everyone? It may be for some, but not for me.

Happiness, productivity, and the things I hope define me will be my deeds, the love I give out freely, and my unceasing devotion to Bahá’u’lláh message of unity and love. So, maybe with a few more of these types of entries I can unhinge that former clenched jaw of what makes others happy and reattach another that better reflects what exists in my heart. Him.

When you feel it, you know it to be true

I attended a Pre-Youth/Youth...thingy tonight at the House of Worship where the subject of deepening/discussion was the spirit and soul. At no point had I ever really deepened or read anything regarding the interconnectedness of the two, their purposes in the universe but was given a general explaination, briefly, at another deepening on the Fund. The idea here is that the soul is connected to the body/mind through the spirit. That's the simple way of looking at things.

The discussion was facinating as a few people gave their opinions and asked questions that raised further opinions and personal understandings. Afterwards, we were treated by a talk by Scott Conrad about the historical Baha'is of North America. Anyway, these things are all very important, more important that I'm giving credence to at this exact moment, but I'm interested in delving into something else. A something else that took place, like a bubble, around all these events. Someone gave me a gift that I don't know how to repay or how to express my elation about.

Recently, I've discovered that I require reinforcement, positive comments to keep me on track, and I got that in a big way. Since using the person's name might actually make them uncomfortable, I'll simply use "my friend" instead. So, my friend and I were talking about a few different things, about the realization that I mentioned at the start of this paragraph, my health, the station of my emotions, and my knowledge of being a writer. My friend then told me that a while ago someone came up and told my friend that what they did was incredible and important, and that they should exercise it as much as possible as it will be beneficial to both my friend's self and the Faith as a whole. Then my friend stated that when I came over to visit a while ago and I read something that I had written, my friend was stunned. My friend told me that when hearing it it was obvious that it was a "unique voice". Now, I could continue trying to remember all that was said but I don't think it's all that important. What seems, and is important is that when it was said I knew it was true. I felt it. Not only as a positive statement that buttresses something internal but as something that I recognized within me instantly. It was there and I knew it was there. I've actually never felt that way before. Ever. And I don't think I'll ever be able to thank my friend enough.

After that, the rest of the night became a cake walk. Forgot about the twitch in my eye from stress, the pains in my hip and knee, and my questions about who and what I am to become.

Hello Myself, Meet Myself

When people present me with a problem, I tend to want to offer a hand. Anything I can do to help them in which ever situation they're in. It's automatic most of the time. There was a realization, an internal, two voice monologue that was created with me in a cape, arms akimbo. While there I would have one self discussing with another self. A sort of rational thought David conversing with psuedo-superhero David. Now, this does, in fact, sound odd. The separation of a person into parts to resolve problems works for me though. I feel I'm able to address one aspect that may be problematic, troublesome, irrational, or frightened by the collective rational, level-headedness, and calm of my overall self. Even other times I prefer to sit all sides around a giant table and remind them/me that my spirit is happy, and that all the tests in my life are marginal in reality. In this case there is the superhero.

As it stands, I do want to help everyone who asks for it. It has become a large part of me. However, in my past, I probably looked for these issues or stood on a street corner with a "animated", neon sign of me dressed normally, a tornado of clothes and limbs, and me in a cape, akimbo, with confidence brimming through my sparkle, sparkle teeth. Either way, things have changed; I've changed, and I continue to do so and will well after I die; it's a process. The wild thing that I've gleaned today from a conversation as been that I really don't know in what response works best for each person. It's not innate in me. I'm sure it exists in small pockets through my body but not in one select spot that can been pipped in to and, with the turn of a spoked nosal, turned on and off. But it's true, I do want to help people. Not the way I did things before. Capes never suited me. I wish for the complex that was part of my past and helped me to better understand myself and others remain at that very large table. Because when I step up to the head of that table, smile, and remind the shards of self that I'm a good person regardless of whether or not I'm a superhero I want to believe that not offering to do something often times is like turning down a beggar, as you're only helping that person for that one moment and not the rest of their life. And yes, I realize now that this whole metaphor of me understanding that I'm no longer a superhero could be rewritten to focus on the beggar aspect but it's two thirty at night, my room is warm after asking for the gauge to be turned up, and I remembered to wear my immobilizer. Hopefully it will help to prevent the weird feelings I've been having about my knee even though I know only PT will cure that.

And anyway, that's a whole other entry that I'll probably sit in my bed and write at midnight, one, or two in the morning and mention the temperature in my room.

44 degrees outside...

...55 degrees inside.

It's a difficult thing, walking into your parent's room to turn the heat on to stop myself from coughing, freezing and generally being uncomfortable under two think blankets and sheets. Now, most would ask what's wrong with that? My body's warm, after all, isn't it? Sure it is. Kind of. My face, on the other hand and my poorly circulated feet and hands, aren't so lucky. Making the coughing more persistent. No, no, I'm fine. Just having fun seeing my own warm breath like steam coming off an asphalt street in summer. That's all.

Did I also mention that I was born in Texas and love the heat? I'm sure I said that at some point, or constantly; which ever.

Self Proclamations and Speech-like Ramblings Abound!!

There's this world that exists. It's one of suggestions of form, function and service. One of unwanted, unhappy, hard to remove fabrications that tend to float like moon's whose gravity will eventually pull them closer to a planet, smashing it into little pieces; to become new moons, float and cycle explosion. There's a very defined way of resolving this world, creating a balm to be applied, but it's not one that can be described and executed easily. There's a section in the Baha'i Prayer Book dedicated to it, however. To read from it every morning, before understanding what exactly was going on, made things worse. Questions just continued to expand out. Then, I had a conversation a couple days ago. I found out what this world is constructed from, and how important it is to find or create resolution.

So, here goes the first step, I suppose. My name is David Faroz Precht. I am a fantastic writer. I am a great musician and artist. I am not what the world creates for me as I can very easily create a world with pencil and paper, snare drum and stick, finger tip and keyboard, concept and creation all of my own. Turn the tables instead of accepting, without questions, the limitations of others and lamentations of my own self trapped, saying prayers for Detachment. God and I have a plan even though this rambled blog might not. And I'm excited to embrace it again. To delve wholly into, with all my being, and produce something that no on this earth has seen before.

Presentation Green-ness

I've been battling the ALDS and NLDS all day. For those unfamiliar, today was the first day of the division series for baseball (Twins vs. A's, Tigers vs. Yankees, Padres vs. Cardinals , Dodgers vs. Mets; each first team mentioned would be the teams I'm rooting for.), leading up to the World Series near the end of the month. They've been good games thus far, watching Zito and Santana square off, Zito won, was pretty incredible. The problem here is that I have this presentation that I have to give at Motorola tomorrow, and am having a tough time figuring out what all to include. So, I thought the best way of resolving this issue would be to write something out, get some writing and thoughts out in the hope that it will assist in the overall creation of this presentation.

How does one create a presentation about oneself for a job interview? I'm sure that some people would have no problem with this. Understanding that the business side of them is so solid and evident they can very simply hammer through a description without dealing with the pitfalls I have. How do I talk about myself? Do I speak truthfully, or give them what I know they want to hear? What they want to hear is my technical expertise. They want to know that I can create a spreadsheet, a powerpoint presentation, and manage a website with ease. The truth? I want to talk about my versatility. About my strength in learning things, my drive to gather up as much information as possible, and the ability to take charge of things without a second's thought.

As I write this I feel the pull toward the truth but understand the need for balance, so, I suppose that's my answer, right? Use both equally in an attempt to be as complete as I can be without fudging things up.

Now, if only I could figure out where to start from...

Post Script - No idea if what I did was terrible, but I have a feeling it doesn't matter.

"This is my Dojo"

I've spent the last week in a positive, loving environment. No yelling or screaming or judging took place, simply respecting one another and compromising when differences arise. These are fundamental things this family lacks along with consultation. They're things we need to work on.

While staying with Jon, Patrick, and Ben I realized the way things should be. Each one of the guys took time at least once a week to talk about what is going on. Not in a reporting fashion, but checking up, showing concern, and offering themselves if the other person needed someone to speak with. Never did they pry, never did they judge or assume that something was wrong. It had everything to do with concern and interested in learning. When I say interested in learning, what I mean is that they don't know each other all that much. As with everyone there are new things to learn with every conversation, and at no point will we ever full understand each other. So, they attempted to gather up what they could to ensure that their living arrangement continued out of love. As well, based simply on how I would like things to be, it doesn't seem prudent for issues and problems to fester. They should be resolved and discussed, consulted and deepened upon. If we are able to spend our time resolving problems through consultation and discussion, we'll become detached from argumentative tendencies.

All three of the men I stayed with knew my condition. They knew I didn't have a job, knew that I didn't have money, and knew the difficulties that had conspired in causing me to leave but they didn't seem to care all that much. What I mean to say is that they understood, accepted, and remained positive until those deficiencies and problem resolved themselves. At no point did they try to remind me that I didn't have a job, they didn't have to. I knew I didn't have one, and they recognized that the last thing someone needs is to be reminded of a deficiency. As well, at no point did they say that I needed to get some money. Again, they saw the deficiency, accepted it, and, again, recognized that no one in a mental state of money-lessness (I would say poverty, but found it to be too strong a word) wants to be reminded of their money-lessness. They smiled offered their help, never even mentioning that I didn't have any money. Lastly, the problems that had arisen by way of family and injury. They offered their understanding, their support, ice packs, tape, and an ear. Never once reminding me of what had befallen me, and if I brought it up, they would remind me that it's all temporary and showered me with love.

This is what I just came from, and, quite honestly, I didn't entirely want to leave. I was happy there with people who recognized that things were going well and loved me regardless.

Mistakes made awesome

So, Jon and I decided to not sit around the apartment tonight, but to go to a movie. We decided on Jet Lee's Fearless. He talks Lindsey into joining us, in her slightly sick position, and we make our way. We get there, look at what's showing, and notice "The Illusionist", a movie she and I both thought was "The Prestige" is playing as well. We get Jon to agree on the change, and Lindsey and I get excited. We all love Christopher Nolan, Christian Bale, and Michael Caine, but, as I said, this was not that movie. This is the movie with Edward Norton, Paul Giamatti, and Jessica Biel. Big difference! The weird thing was, however, the confusion could be construed not only by title but, somewhat, by subject matter. Both movies involve magicians, of sorts. And both, or so I hope, kick ass. The other similarity being that they both begin with "The". It's easy to be confused by such things.

Here's the point of all this rambling. Go see both of them. Size them up. Check their tires. But I'm saying it now, they'll both be good. AND!, most importantly, they will begin with the word "The".

Post Script - I realize, now, after I've written this how completely unnecessary it is. This just furthers the point I made in the previous post about the nature of this beast I have birthed. Whatever. Time for sleep!