This Is An Exercise In Words – ReubenRock.com

It’s funny. Sometimes I find myself at a table with only myself as company. The bar is crowded. I have friends dotting the building. But I choose to segregate myself to this area. The most prominently placed table in the room. I choose to stay inside my head rather than sharing what’s on my mind. Nobody wants to hear that slop.

I get texts from people looking for a place in my life. They want a foothold to let them know they’re still in the game. They’re still hanging off this cliff. But while they sit at home picturing me surrounded by friends and better off without them, I’m surrounded by friends who are paces away from my somber attitude.

I don’t know why this happens. I’ve become an expert at pushing everyone away without saying a word. Body language, maybe? Tone of voice? I’ve been told I hide nothing in my tone. Facial expressions? I’ve been scolded in mid-year reviews for my inability to control those muscles.

Whatever it is, I’m hiding in plain sight. Waiting for someone to pick me out of the crowd, drop me into that comfortable monotony I inhabited for years, and bring my world back to stasis. I’m waiting for those goods to be delivered. And when I get back there, I’ll reserve the right to trade it all in for the old tensions I’m used to living with.

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of music I love. These are the albums that you’ll hear me playing over and over again (some of them for the last 7 or 8 years). In alphabetical order by artist because I’m looking at my iTunes library:

• The Academy Is… – “Almost Here”
• The Ataris – “Blue Skies, Broken Hearts…Next 12 Exits”
• The Avenue – Any album/ep (yes, I listen to my own band)
• The Bled – “Pass the Flask”
• Blink 182 – Any album
• Box Car Racer – “Boxcar Racer”
• Boys Night Out – “Make Yourself Sick”
• Brand New – “Your Favourite Weapon” and “Deja Entendu”
• Cartel – “Chroma”
• Death Cab for Cutie – “Transatlanticism” and “Plans”
• Every Time I Die – “Hot Damn!”
• Fall Out Boy – “Take This To Your Grave”
• Fear Before the March of Flames – “Odd How People Shake” and “Art Damage”
• Finch – “What It Is To Burn”
• Johnny Cash – Any album
• Kanye West – Any album
• Lit – “A Place in the Sun”
• Motion City Soundtrack – “Commit This to Memory”
• New Found Glory – “New Found Glory”
• Norma Jean – “Bless the Martyr & Kiss the Child”
• Northstar – “Pollyanna”
• Osker – “Idle Will Kill”
• The Rocket Summer – “Calendar Days” and “Hello, Good Friend”
• Rufio – “Perhaps, I Suppose”
• Saves The Day – Any album
• Taking Back Sunday – “Tell All Your Friends”
• Third Eye Blind – “Third Eye Blind”
• Thursday – “Full Collapse”
• Two Hours Traffic – “Little Jabs”
• Two Tongues – “Two Tongues”
• Underoath – “They’re Only Chasing Safety”
• The Used – “The Used”

I don’t fulfill fantasies, I fulfill realities.

Sure, you were cute. Beautiful even. But I’m not here to make your dreams come true. I’m here to bring your dreams more in line with your day to day.

When they said, “you can’t have it all,” I thought they were talking to me. But apparently those words were spoken in your direction. Having it all doesn’t mean you can split time between cities, lead my dysfunctional mind into your world, and then dash it away with an 8 hour drive.

I’ve gone. The next time we see each other, you’ll meet the icy front of this cold war.

“Too tired, too obtuse. You look so far removed.” ~ the format

Well, so am I.

Sometimes I’ll click on an ad (usually a display ad that I know will lead to an affiliate site) out of curiosity. While I have not been actively working on my own business lately, I still like to keep up with what internet marketers are doing. Today I ran across something that made me set down my lunch and type this post:

It is important to note that this site and the comments/answers depicted above is to be used as an illustrative example of what some individuals have achieved with this/these products. This website, and any page on the website, is based loosely off a true story, but has been modified in multiple ways including, but not limited to: the story, the photos, and the comments. Thus, this page, and any page on this website, are not to be taken literally or as a non-fiction story. This page, and the results mentioned on this page, although achievable for some, are not to be construed as the results that you may achieve on the same routine. I UNDERSTAND THIS WEBSITE IS ONLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF WHAT MIGHT BE ACHIEVABLE FROM USING THIS/THESE PRODUCTS, AND THAT THE STORY/COMMENTS DEPICTED ABOVE IS NOT TO BE TAKEN LITERALLY. This page receives compensation for clicks on or purchase of products featured on this site.

This is a disclaimer I found on an affiliate site. My guess is that most people who read the disclaimers at the bottom (which is probably 0.1% of visitors) are not even going to process the real message. Let me rewrite it for you:

I’M LYING TO YOU. THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT. BUT BUY THIS PRODUCT ANYWAY BECAUSE I’M GETTING PAID A COMMISSION.

I almost have to chuckle to myself. This is so reminiscent of an incredible marketer I used to work with. It sounds exactly like something he would do and later laugh about with his friends.

Whatever you can sleep with at night. I’ve certainly done some things in the name of hype and money. I guess this guy is at least honest about it.

“I can’t stand my own face anymore. The mirror is on the floor.” ~ Saves The Day

There were days when I would wake up and look at the floor as I walked past a mirror. I didn’t want to see how tragically broken I looked. I was ravaging my system in unthinkable ways, and I wore the evidence on my face, my skin, in my dead eyes. I remember the taste of blood trickling into the back of my throat. I remember spending Sundays in bed feeling so disconnected – just waiting for the world to right itself.

Then those days slowly faded away. I dug out of that pit. And eventually I removed some caustic people from my life.

This is a part of my life I’m not always comfortable sharing with people. I don’t give the details when I do talk about it. It isn’t acceptable to discuss these things.

Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I still see the evidence. I know I’ve scarred myself. And I scarred people around me, too.

I’d like to say it was necessary, but it never is. We shouldn’t have to learn everything firsthand. But if it weren’t for these experiences, I would have no understanding of how wrong your life can get and how quickly it can happen. So I’m grateful.

I’ll share some of these stories with you eventually. It will be a collection of occurrences spanning the course of a year in my life. I’ll leave out the names. We all need the protection. But you’ll get the full story at some point in the near future. The only way to pay for these sins is to pen this portion of my experience.

What do I have to be proud of?

I have the ability to attract people to me. I’m magnetic. But once I’ve brought them in, the charges reverse and they push away just as quickly as they came.

I’m smart. Much smarter than I advertise in my language and behavior.

I can make a great first impression – when I want to. I can also find common ground quickly and act strategically on it.

I think highly of myself, even if I don’t always treat myself with respect.

I recognize my faults, despite my unwillingness to correct those faults at this point in my life.

I have a job, money, house, car, etc. All the material bullshit I need to signify that I’ve bought in to these concepts. I even have the divorce papers to round out the mediocrity.

I suppose these are line items on my resume. All the things that make me whole. But they aren’t the things that make me proud. Pride comes from reporting back to my mother about my successes – a half story that censors the gritty details. Pride comes from that white lie that puts a smile on her face. She deserves to believe that I’m doing okay.

So maybe I really have nothing to be proud of.

But I know myself better than you might think. And maybe, if you can’t deal with or accept these truths, the real problem is that you continue to believe that I’m going to be somebody different.

Gotta love working from home on Fridays. The home office has a much better feel for me than a cubicle. Granted, it’s a mess. But I wouldn’t have it any other way (or be able to maintain it any other way).

This office has seen a lot of things over the last 4 years. Being in here makes me feel connected to this house.

The thought of losing this space is what keeps me from getting a roommate.

I laid there thinking up such great fictions. Such perfect phrases to properly pen the situation. Such magnificent revenge for sins of the flesh that probably were not happening under my watchful eye.

I laid there so long that nothing was written but lines in my forehead.

That same whiskey soaked paralysis has crippled me time and time again. But if that is my most fundamental defect… Then yours is being trite. Yours is meeting expectations when the expectation is so low. Yours is being typical and nothing else.

“In with the outro and out with the old.” ~ the format

The plot thickened – bulged, really. It ripped apart at the seams and exposed a rough-edged wound from one end of this lifeless container to the other. Then together, but standing meters apart, we climaxed.

It was brilliant in its simplicity. I lied to obscure the shame*. She threw in the towel out of anger and frustration. There is no more basic and typical tragedy between man and woman. I was clinging too tightly to my sins to see that she was giving me the opportunity to strip down. To call off the assault I launched on a frame forged over the course of 9 years.

Instead, I set fire to it all and sat down in the flames, while she reluctantly made her escape.

I could feel it coming today – the outro. The epilogue. The last few pages.

In this outro, I have the opportunity to move away from the old. Not to forget what was, but to leave it in its place. I know the pages are still there, but I won’t force myself to reread them each night. I won’t search ravenously for scraps of the past.

Let’s settle into this outro. I have just enough ink to write it. And enough left in me to create one last character.

*this is technically inaccurate. I lied to provide a reason for a series of
actions. The truth is that the actions were senseless. A lie that I could
force myself to stand behind for some time... that would lessen the blow.
But it's all part of some fucked form of logic I carry around.

I seek the satisfaction of waking next to the person I last saw before drifting into dreams. It doesn’t happen.

I picture the cold reality washing over you… waking to the morning sun illuminating the walls of my room, but failing to warm it… it must be disconcerting. The heat outside is seductive. Stealing you away every time.

When my eyes first glimpse the expanse of linens, clearly rumpled from a missing body, they signal some part of me to shut down. There are no expectations in the games we play. Nor are there clear winners. So the “feeling” portion of my being grows calloused.

Maybe the ultimate satisfaction should stem from the fact that we aren’t bound to one another. I challenge us all to consider that. And to relish in the light of day – alone.