This may not be the most popular way to start off a xanga blog, but social-standing aside, I need to spend an honest moment on a blank page, rambling, and not worry about erase marks muddying up my thoughts.  That being said, this is risky business.  In a world where "the more you fake, the more you make," it seems as if this honest moment may leave me with nothing more than a cold night's sleep.  This is risky.  What the hell.

I went to New York to get away for 8 days.  It worked.  I was several miles away.  But getting away from my head, and my thoughts, the depression, was no possibility.  And I knew that.  I knew I was in a war, so like any warring force, foreign territory looked like a real good battle ground to thrash on for a while.  No voices to tell me otherwise, no routine to get in the way.  Just me and the clearing of my head ..

I'm not going to pretend as if I went to New York alone, and was some cool guy that just bummed on the streets, and slept on park benches or something.  I had friends there who willingly took me in.  But they had their agenda, which allowed me to stay focused and purposeful with thought .. to hammer out the details, and leave them far behind.  I left the details of my old, rickety train of thought in the New York subway stations, and came home with a world of perspective that travels beyond the cultural adversity of city life, or the vastness of brick and mortar.  I believe I've stepped away from an antique mind and moved into something more suitable for me.  Something less elegant and more tacky, and fluffy than the cold, embroidered sofa that was valuably relic, but rather a modern piece of mind without a price tag, and a piece of mind without fragments sticking out from it, ready to cut someone who may try to defy it.  Coming home, I realized I may have found an open sense of Me.  I think I came across who Joe Hendrickson is and has wanted to be for so long, and I think these past months of waring have been all about letting that piece of peace finally come out.

I'm the type of guy who has to get things right, not be right per say, but has to figure things out eventually.  I won't settle for a sort-of understanding, I want to come to terms with what makes sense for me and why.  I think at times my animosity for the glories of fading truth can be a shield and a curse against me all at once.  Thus, a battle is more than a struggle won or a struggle lost, because casualties are always at stake.  In dull terms, all of this emotional and mental waring started and ended as a progression. Something has to die to bring something else to life.  It's a trade that's not always equal, but yields results:  Death for Freedom, Uncertainty for Clarity, Old for New.  I believe, often, that if humans were to just man up and fight boldly for truth, our sanity may still be kept while in battle.  If we maned up to the trades involved in finding life, we may not be such reckless, lonely people.  Aside from the dramatics of all this- my sanity is still safe and my perspective is mine to give and yours to take into consideration.  Old for New .. which will you chose?

Not lingering, just explaining.  For a couple months, depression has been honing in on me.  For those who have been depressed, I strongly believe that you feel the shadows of depression creeping overhead before you get the full thunderstorm of it.  And just the same, you feel depression lift at the end of it all, which often happens on your own accord.  You control the sun, but when it's raining, you often just forget to call off the rain, or can' see that the sun has been shining all along.  At least that's how I've always seen it. Before I left  from New York City, the sun was shining again, and I packed it in my suitcase and brought it home with me.  Not yet on the outside, but on the inside- as cliche as this sounds- where I've needed it most.

For those of you who hate religion, I share your opinions. I have infiltrated 'religion' many times throughout my life and found this kind of belief system to be no different than the 'anti-society' message that it supports.  Like you probably have, I have also concluded that 'religion' is like Abercrombie.  It's nothing more than a high priced fad, and is often based on 'how you were raised.'  Like other ugly, over-priced clothes, if you don't have a lot of money to waste, buying Abercrombie may cost you everything.  Similarly, if you've been pushed away by religion, it may cost you your entire search for what's true.  I almost gave up too.

I almost threw it all away- but realized that life isn't supposed to be a sad story and doesn't have to be. I held onto religion for dear life, and found life when I let go of it.  But first, I let go of everyone around me so that I could support the unreasonable expectations I had believed I had to keep.  (Obviously the wrong move.)  I had no energy left for love, for real relationships, for music. I had to support the "religion" in my head, the pain that would push me forward to "true happiness."  I had to support my unreasonable expectations.  I was so lost.

Being lost sometimes allows you to go places you never thought you'd go. Thus, going to New York was easy, because I wasn't leaving much behind.  Everything had shattered and I really didn't mind leaving the mess behind me. I got to the city and in retrospect realized I had been walking on glass for far too long.  Life is tough, but I was making it tougher for no reason! As long as I live my life worrying, I'm not living.  Life will be cold, dead, and lifeless.  I will fail, at times.  But something inside me will lift me to my feet- a promise, a covenant, a true, deep love and passion for life.  I realized that strength comes in accepting love, or a whip will quickly replace it.  You can't beat perfection into you, you can only love the hell out of you.  Thus, like many before me, I guess I can say "I found love in New York.."

As for the future .. I'll keep you posted.