Work today began like any other closing shift at the restaurant. I was right bored with the goings-on of the coffee-row folks of the evening...save for one man.

Not to be racist, but I was quite surprised by how interested I was to hear about this native man's life. When I moved to pour him a cup of coffee he suddenly turned to me and said with a soft voice, "You know, the only day I'll ever get respect is the day I die." I was shocked to the core. This man already looked a little lonely and this statement almost depressed me. So I chatted him up a few seconds and walked away to help other tables. After my other tables were all well and good, I decided to go ask the man what was up. It took a bit of mustering of my courage, but I eventually went over.

I don't know what drove me to sit with the man. His words echoed in my head so loudly. So when I finally sat down, it dawned on me. I felt an intense need to offer this man some respect.

Was it because I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't a racist? Or to satisfy some inner hero-complex...Or maybe I was just trying to earn as much tip from him as possible (coffee-only people tip little). Truth is, I'm not sure, but either way, I felt better having sat down to talk to him.

He explained how he's been getting little respect due to his race, and his conditions. I asked what was wrong with him and he casually in that same soft voice replied that he was a bi-polar schizophrenic. He seemed so nice. So explained that he was heavily medicated and I found his story of how he got himself help to be rather humorous (he hadn't been getting help for his conditions when he explained it to therapists, so he walked into the hospital one day and demanded that somebody chop off his balls, and that if they didn't do it, he would. So they strapped him down and dosed him up for a few days before sending him out with prescription meds.). We shared some laughs and a few cups of coffee. By the end of it he seemed rather pleased that I took the time out of my day to visit him and he offered me a large tip. I told him the minimum would do me fine.

Because of all of this I got the best reward for helping a customer I've gotten to date. He looked at me with a smile and said "You're a good man."

Sometimes that's all an average student-waiter wants to hear.

"I just want you to know, I'm not mad at you."

Those were the distinct words I heard from a girl at university today. She was walking by me with her cellphone and I heard it ever-so clearly without even trying.

Many questions rose in my mind about that simple statement.

Who is this girl? Who was she talking to? Why did they think she was mad? What did they do? What did she do?

On occasion I come to this same realization, that I know truly nothing about the people who surround me. It's astounding and strange to think about. I can't even fathom the depths of human disconnection in this world. Just think about it...You're on a bus, there's 30 strangers surrounding you. Every single one of those people have families, friends, jobs, hobbies, maybe even pets and a special talent. Several go to university, with goals and aspirations. Some might be thinking of proposing to their loved one, some may be contemplating suicide. Some of them may be looking forward to getting drunk with their friends later, while others may have plans to sit at home, study, and play video games with a bowl of Ichiban in their laps. Some may be gay, some may have herpes, some might know how to do the alphabet backwards faster than you can do it forwards, and some might find happiness in a book and a glass of wine. 30 very complicated and intricate stories crammed in the space of one small bus.

This girl wasn't just a stranger to me anymore. In my mind, this human being had a life not unlike my own. Of course I have no idea what she was going through, or what she was talking about...but for some strange reason I felt more connected to her life in that spark of realization than those lives of my closer friends. Strange, isn't it? Not many people may fully realize this, but you have human beings living out a...perhaps wonderful, or sad, or complicated, or desolate, or intriguing life right next door.

Strange.

-Meo

Greetings, blog. It is now November. It's been a while, to say the least.

To quickly catch up, I am enrolled in the University BFA program in Acting, I just turned 23 recently, I'm single (good, bad, I don't know), and things are going relatively smooth.

Mostly I wanted to talk about my latest achievement in bettering myself. It has to do with something people like to call "cooking". For the past 23 years of my life I have displayed next to no ability to cook by myself. I am the only person I know who messed up Kraft Dinner six times in a row. Today, however, I have taken a step forward.

Only hours ago I unwrapped frozen chicken breast, cut up some lemons and other vegetables, prepared some spices, and readied pots and pans. I cooked myself Lemon Chicken with real white rice (not the instant stuff) and I fried up some mushrooms and peppers to toss into the rice. Complete with a fresh salad and everything. How can this be, you say? If you can't even cook KD, how could you whip up this amazing meal? Well, I will tell you. My Buddhist practises have recently taught me a great deal of patience. I touched on this months and months ago about how by simply breathing I conquered my road rage. Well, this simple test of self control has now enabled me to cook a healthy and fullfilling supper for myself.

I believe that too many people in our world rely upon the convenience of pre-prepared food and everything. It's silly. Even someone like me - who has to deal with english papers, french homework, play rehearsals, group project meetings, scene analysis, and audition preparation - was able to find the time and energy to cook today. It was my reliance on quick-fixes to hunger that led me to being a terrible cook before. I wanted the end result and I wanted it the quickest way possible. But now this isn't a problem. I can keep the stove heat on medium and patiently watch my grilled cheese sandwhich grill itself to crispy brown perfection.

I never ever want to impose the message that Buddhism is the way to live for everybody, because it is not. My only purpose is to chronicle the changes in my life as I try to sculpt a better and more fullfilling lifestyle for myself.

And believe me, a good cook can definitly make a more healthy lifestyle for himself.

I shaved my head. Luckily I'm not one of those young men whom John Cusack mentions in the film, High Fidelity, "I felt like a fraud, like one of those kids who suddenly shaves their heads and says they've always been punks". I've thankfully never claimed to be a punk. A slacker, an athlete, and a geek, yes, but never a punk.

No, I've shaved my head for a more "noble" purpose. You see, my grandmother suffered breast cancer last year and underwent the chemotherapy necessary for her recovery. My family was emotionally affected by her suffering, and we stood by her all the way through. Thankfully she pulled through and is still with us today. The sacrifice of all 8 or so inches of my hair was nothing in comparison to what she went through, and so losing my hair was really nothing on my part.

Being hairless is fun, not necessarily the style of the year, but fun. Its already growing back, and I'm glad for it. On another plus side, I donated the hair, through the nearby salon, as a wig for kids with cancer. I can just picture some happy little girl bouncing around with my long boy-curls.

What I wanted to bring up was the issue that I heard whisper. Apparently some people have assumed that me shaving my head was just to get attention. For one thing, I don't exactly care what those people might think. I've raised 300 dollars, I know I've done good. Point being it got me to thinking about "standing out". Shaving my head couldn't be further from standing out. I don't think I'm ugly by any means. I used to receive compliments galore about my long brown curly hair. Being bald this time around showed me that even though I stand out in a crowd...I'm still not noticed. Girls used to make eyes with me in the mall. They'd make an effort to peer through the shade of my long dark tendrils of hair. Now that my eyes can't hide behind anything, there's no challenge. I couldn't feel more "regular" if I was a flavorless potato chip.

For that reason I'm not maintaining the baldness. I'm not too high and mighty to stick to my guns. I grow fantastic hair, and I like sticking out that way. If I gotta be different from the crowd, I most certainly wouldn't do it by keeping a part of me away from me.


It would seem that what I previously thought would be a quest towards a happy ending turned out to be nothing more than a fork in the road. This fork branched off in at least four directions. One was blonde and not single, one was a bit too young, and two whom I've had feelings for in the past, and those of which have been resurfacing. Options one and two have been pushed aside. I can't wait around for the one and the other should be at a better maturity level if not a better age. So now I'm left with the two whom I've liked in the past.

It's a terrible thing to be torn between two women. It's wrong. "The Right One" should be the one who steals all of my attention, all of my affection. Life, as it turns out, hasn't been so simple for me. Is it so wrong to consider the options? Why spend all my time pursuing one that may result in terrible heartbreak. I've put my feelings on the line too many times in the past. It's about time that I get swept off my feet. It's foolhardy and reckless to sit back and wait for the right one to shine through, but I think I've earned the break by now.

What good is it being a fool when I don't get to act foolishly?

I've got a lot of love to give, therefore I can be choosy of who I give it to.

Besides....by the time one reads my next entry, who will really remember all of this anyways? I might not, even.


During my most recent meditations I came across the thought that I often act selfishly. What was more astonishing was the realization that selfishness hasn't really done me a lot of good. Most of my recent selfish actions were for the greater good of myself. However, it always seems to have an adverse effect and just make things worse for me. Ironic, I think, that I now selfishly complain that my selfishness has affected me badly. So, yes, it has affected others badly as well, and for that I unselfishly feel terrible. This makes me believe in karma just a bit more. Not in the way that doing good deeds makes me a hero, and that is good...no, I mean in the way that doing good things for others is unselfish, and when I do unselfish things I'm not punished by my own selfishness.

I have typed the word selfish way too many times....

What I'm trying to say is that I don't like doing things for myself. I've looked out for my friends and my family my whole life. I don't think that makes me a hero or anything, but I certainly think it makes me a decent human being. So whenever I get into a self-serving groove, I start to feel like a bad person. I'm thankful that I don't have too many friends that judge me for that. I keep a pretty good bunch of people around me, I'd say.

I swear to Buddha's Noble Truth that no matter how miserable or selfish I may get, I will always love my friends. Those buggers keep me in line and they keep me strong. Most of all, they remind me of the beauty and the good in this world. Wars, famine, disease, and strife happen all over the place. That's the kinetic way of the world right now. Love and understanding is the potential. One day we'll move in that direction. Foolish dreams, maybe...

...but what good is it being a fool when I don't get to dream foolishly?

I'm well into April now. What can I possibly comment on....oh...lots!

I've moved into a new house. At first I was questing to find a place in which to live on my own, but circumstances led me to something better, I think. Living in this city comes with the price of expensive living, and next to zero housing availability. So while I spent everyday thumbing through the daily newspaper and calling up any "nice catches" I could find...I received excellent news. One of my best friends, Morgan C, is in a relationship with a Welsh lad. He was trying to set down some roots, and his new place he found had an available room for a month. I jumped at the chance after making sure this was alright with Morgan. I was only living in this house for a few days before Jamie (thats him) and I had our first heart to heart. Each of us decided that the other was perfectly sound and we got on outstandingly. So, he asked me to stay. How could I say no? It's a beautiful neighborhood, I finally have a roommate that I don't feel the urge to permanently avoid, and we're walking distance to a grocery store, movie rental, dentist, doctor, drug mart, and a bus stop. I'm quite fortunate at the moment.

I also made a serious decision recently. After watching the play at University called She Stoops To Conquer, I felt a tremendous urge to hop up on stage and join in with the performance. I seriously NEEDED to be an actor. I was in the play Death of Christ recently (as the crucified savior himself), and I thought I did pretty good. SO, in light of my newly lighted passion for acting, and my love for the drama class I'm currently taking, I decided to go back to school this coming fall to start a new major in Drama. Exciting, I know, I can't wait.

There's so much I want to talk about, but I simply can't endanger my good luck by saying too much. In the coming week, however, I may have more to say on the subject, and will be happy to share it. Until next time.

First off, Happy St. Patrick's day tomorrow!

Yesterday I went to the Hose with an old friend and a small contingent of her own friends. It was probably the most fun I've had in a bar-type situation in a very long time. And that's how I celebrated St. Patty's 2008!

Onward to the thick of my story. Today Linsey, my drama partner, and I shared our performance piece with two individuals from our professor's morning class. We all got the same play, Woyzeck. It's an old German Expressionist piece, and its sorely complicated. Linsey and I worked on our play nonstop for the past many weeks. We were super nervous about it and were anxious to get it down pat. Luckily for us we found a comfortable groove and rolled with that. It paid off, because even though Andrew and Illia (sp?) performed incredibly, we were able to leave them just as breathless. It was a unique experience, sharing these performances. We were able to clearly see all of the different choices our two groups have made along the road to make the play what it was today. They were the same words, but two completely different stories. I Loved their singing sections of their play, it added a softness that Linsey and I struggled to obtain. Their play had so much emotional depth to it, that it's impossible to rival. Luckily, though, it wasn't a competition, and they had just as much praise for our own work.

Not a bad weekend at all. It's been quite a ride this week. On Wednesday night I was forced to stay up all night and catch up on an entire semester's worth of work for Medieval Drama class. It was frightful at best, but I got the work done at the temporary cost of my health. I literally worked, reading and writing, the whole night through. Red Bull and Cadbury Mini Eggs were my best friends that night. I'm feeling better today, though, having had ample opportunity to catch up on sleep since then.

I'm left, though, with a series of sessions that I've spent this week in deep thought. It's hard to explain, but I've found myself lost in thought. Usually when I find that I'm doing this it's because I'm crushing hard on some girl, or I'm brainstorming more ideas for my novel. However this time it was different. I found myself completely aware of who I am. I wasn't aware of what I wanted or where I'm going....but I knew me. And seeing as I knew who I was, I was able to take a step back and slow down. Twice this week I caught my emotions getting the best of me around potentially romantic situations. But I didn't let it keep hold. I may not have a clue about what I want from women, or out of school, but I do know who I am. Thusly I know what I desserve and where I belong. Pursuit of these things is the next step, but it must be taken slowly. Change needs a little time to make a permanent and effective alteration for the better.

In other news, I designed a new tattoo. I had to find the right font, but it's going to be two lines from Edgar Allan Poe's poem, The Raven;

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

At the end of the "e" on the very last word will be a pretty little feather quill trailing away. I think I'm inking this to my ribs on my left side.

I'm going to go see my friend Emma perform a play tonight. It'll be the finishing touch to my superb weekend. Then rest will come before another stormy week rolls in.

Today I've experienced a lot of evidence in the realm of change. Most of this change relates to my latest spiritual movement into Buddhism. Of the three main sects of Buddhism, I chose the teachings of the North Tibetan Buddhists, known as the Vajrayana.

I know that there will be much to learn on this road, but today I may have subconsciously slipped into my inner Buddha. I had plenty reason to be stressed, angry, and agitated with all the driving, scheduling, and memorization I had to do this morning, but when it got to the supposed "boiling point"....it faded.

A truck cut me off right as I was busy trying to call the service department of the kind people who were about to be fixing my Pathfinder. That moment of panic, in the past, has always been my freak-out point. Had this happened five months ago I would have leaned on the horn, screamed my head off, and pointlessly become a reckless driver. However, I did not.

I eased on the breaks, and resumed driving as if it did not happen. Even as the driver moved into the other lane beside me and waved his "I'm sorry" to me. Normally it would have been just a curt nod, or perhaps a flip of the bird....but I smiled, waved and focussed on the road. Not only that, but I was fully aware of the calmness of my breath. I filled my chest with air and let it out evenly and slowly through my nose. It felt fantastic.

Throughout the day this natural calm held me in check. When a professor confessed that, due to a missed midterm, I may not get to write one at all, my breathing was still steady. I was able to look this man in the eye, maintain a genuine smile, and speak when the time was appropriate. The lack of panic and the lack of anger may have saved me dropping another class for the semester.

When I had ten minutes to spare between classes, I took that time to take out a sheet of paper and write something out. It may be completely meaningless to most people, but to me the deep message goes beyond comprehension. It is just simple truth, and must be adapted into my everyday lifestyle. The Buddhists refer to it as the Four Noble Truths.