Lucky Scharms

Quick!

tscharm — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 06:17:34 +0000

It’s been fourteen months since my last post. I was absent from my blog the majority of the time due to my computer crashing, again. Also though, I was sick of wearing my heart on my sleeve. Majority of those posts of 2009 seemed quite juvenile. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have been so open publicly but you learn to live without regrets.

Too much has happened that I’m not going into detail. But if there was a “The Complete Idiots Guide: The Best of Taylor Scharman of 2010″ ever published, the following would be the chapter titles:

1. Progress: The Winds of Change
2. Seeing Is Believing
3. Eye Spy With My Little Lie
4. Constructing My Empire: Part I: Quick! Summon My Chalice
5. Constructing My Empire: Part II: Is You Is, Or Is You Ain’t
6. Basic Instinct 3
7. Heavens Gates: The Depress of Exaltation
8. MTLBYAKY
9. The More Things Change, The More They Remain The Same

Restless, again.

tscharm — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 12:50:46 +0000

The feeling of being so close, a feeling I’ve dreamt for years, vanished quicker than its presentation. Maybe we’re not ready. Maybe now isn’t the right time. But, the fact to have been so close to possessing this new life is a breath of fresh air. That this could be a possibility of where my future is headed. Hopefully, sooner than later.

Day 1.

tscharm — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 08:51:28 +0000

Me, the unstoppable force.
You, the immovable object.

If the force truly is unstoppable, then there is no such thing as an immovable object, and vice versa. Simple logic suggests that if one exists, the other can not. Others, like myself, believe that one simply becomes the other. That the mass from the object absorbs the kinetic energy, sending it off as an unstoppable force, and the force then becomes the immovable object with infinite mass.

Together, we are a walking omnipotence paradox.

A Soft Hum

tscharm — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 02:22:36 +0000

Everyday, it slips away.
Life becomes a soft hum with no reason.
You’re my rose, love.
Stop making love, going through the motions.
Tell me how come no one gets what they really want and love only when it’s convenient?
We act like we know more than we know.
We treat love like it’s something you own.

Yesterday, I thought I heard you say…
Who do you think you’re kidding?
We’re all pissing into the wind, wearing sheepskin, hiding from the same things that our dads did.
But no one gets what they really want.
We love only when it’s convenient.
We act like we know more than we know.
We treat love like it’s something you own.

But maybe I’ll find you.
Maybe I’ll find something I love.
Baby, I’ve found you.
Maybe I’ve found something I love.

Biting The Bullet

tscharm — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 07:48:41 +0000

The shock of the brisk Autumn air upon my face stings my senses as I shut the front door behind me. I shrug my shoulders with a shiver and zip up the rest of my jacket. Quickly, I scamper to the car.

As I start it up, the belts squeal and I’m already thinking back to last week when she held the flashlight while I tightened that rubbery annoyance. Disappointingly, I lay my head on the steering wheel. My departure from this empty house is only to escape your face from my reckless mind. Here I am, not even a minute from the front door, parked in the garage, and I’m already thinking of you.

Deep breath. Good posture. Focused.

With no intended destination, I leave this unfamiliar place in hopes to finding anything to clear my head. If there was ever a time to be blessed with wings, I’d fly away, so far away from here. Far enough that I could never find my way back.

Thirty-five minutes pass and this helpless journey has pointed me back home. Like a wounded soldier dragging his broken shield and crippled sword, I force my self back in to this prison to battle, yet again, the shadowy corners of this deserted house. Following my descent to the basement, the stale air seeping from below the closed door cringes my insides. Am I alone here? Yes, Taylor. Alone.

e&e

tscharm — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 06:37:53 +0000

We write to apologize.
We ask to look past life as it goes by.
I know you have sacrificed time, life, love, time to fly.
Please consider all things right,
forgiveness will be the thing that gets us by.
I know to have something like this broken is hard to fix.

We write to patch things up,
maybe not to agree but to proclaim love.
Let`s look ahead and then we`ll see the one whose glory never ends.
And based on that we`ll see,
there`ll be room for change, but gradually.
I know to have something like this broken is hard to fix.

(Lyrics from ‘Embers and Envelopes’ by Mae, one of my favorite songs.)

numero uno? que?

tscharm — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 08:23:03 +0000

No secrets. Yes. You are number one. However, that title does come with responsibility.

If you claim it, own it.

No ultimatums. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I already know. Show me positive actions and you shall receive the same. I know what I have to do and I am working on it as well.

No lies. No secrets. Complete honesty.

Oh! and if you break my heart (again), I’ll kill you. Muah!

seeing is believing

tscharm — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 06:26:53 +0000

2 feet away. One year later. My mind is racing for something to say. The ice is so thick, I don’t know if there’s anything I can do or say to break it.

I can’t stop absorbing this current situation. Even when I’m not watching you do your hair, searching for a new apartment on the computer, or any other simple task, my senses are like a sponge. The feel of your sheets, the smell of your room, and even the slight imperfections that make up your perfect face. I have nothing to say or no real point to make. Yet I am randomly talking about anything, just to hear your voice. But when you look at me, I’m lost. Speechless. Those blue eyes pierce down into my core and I question ever seeing anything as beautiful.

I woke up this morning in Las Vegas and find myself, only 10 hours later, alone, with you, and no one else.

I’ve thought about this moment 30 times a day for the last year and now that I’m here, I don’t know what to do or how to act.

Maybe I’m just tired…

tscharm — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 03:17:47 +0000

Tired of never knowing.

studying symphony dates

tscharm — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 09:15:37 +0000

Laying in bed at 3 in the morning, caught in between the frustration of late-night television programming and being sober with a restless mind, I’m taken back to a time a month ago with a close friend. After a few beers and a strong whiskey ‘n’ coke, I’m drunk, speaking a sober man’s mind. My friend asks “After all she’s put you through, why do you still feel the way you do?” My mind goes blank and travels down one of the many tangents of my future. Then it came to me. I smiled and said…

“If she isn’t the one I see walking towards me on my wedding day, she’ll be the one I run to the night before my wedding.”

With the smell of liquor pouring from my breath, I ramble on. Further and further in depth, I discuss how I feel. Most likely annoying my helpless victim with my selfish and involuntary verbal abuse.

Today, laying in bed at 3 in the morning, I try to dissect that comment in an attempt to finding the validity of my true feelings.