Intriguing Tales of a Face In the Crowd

  The dissent inside my chest beats so loudly that I almost can't hear my thoughts. Some how, some way the most destructive ones routinely make it through. The regrets that I hold on to are only bested by the insatiable need to be heard and validated by total strangers and those that I love. And even in those moments of recognition I hear a voice in the back of my mind that encourages my thoughts to spiral, compels me to slink back into solitude and embrace the mediocrity that this voice says has always been me. Letting self-control, self-image and dignity fall to the wayside I've carved years of turmoil out on my body. Oversaturated and under nurtured has been modus operandi for far too long. What happened to innocence? Where did pure joy go? It always seems so fleeting when it does arise.  I know you. The best parts of you still beautifully exist. How you bring them out is not the same as it was 20 years ago, when you felt like you were at your best. In your early twenties yo

Today is an anniversary. It's an anniversary of something that I let slip away, but I'm doing okay with it oddly enough. Marking time. Anniversaries are interesting because simply put, they are moments that pass through our lives, but for a variety of reasons, these special dates have meaning. Sometimes they're reminders of joy, a renewal of commitment and affection, and other times they're sobering and solemn. Growing up I always associated the word 'anniversary' with happy times, but as I've grown older I realize the level of gravity that word actually has. It can mean happy times, but it seems as we move through life and slowly weigh ourselves down with experience the word itself becomes heavier. We begin to attach deeper experiences to that word, both good and bad, and it almost changes meaning and becomes a word that is difficult to recognize.  I struggled to be present, to open myself fully, and because I failed them, I failed myself as well. Like two

    I've always been fascinated by the idea of leaving a legacy behind. For me it's the thought that someone somewhere in some completely different realm of  time and space might viscerally  connect with something that I created and left a piece of my heart within. I think there are people who are unconsciously compelled to create. I think of them as people who walk through the world day after day and leave beauty everywhere they go. They are remarkably prolific with their calculated efforts, and yet effortlessly (or with the most minimal effort) create things that are attention-grabbing, entertaining and/or profound. I've never thought of myself as one of these people. Every thing that I've done that's been even remotely creative has come because of some sort of internal struggle or some sort of projection onto the world at large. It comes infrequently and with many momentary bursts of steam that dissipate into discouraging lapses of effort. However, this way of th

Forever Feels Like An Eternity.          2 years ago today I lost my dad. 2 years and 3 days ago I had to make the most difficult decision in my life. He passed away May 11, 2020 at 8:30pm. I miss my dad every single day. People say that a lot when they lose someone close to them. It's become a cliché, and with good reason, but in this instance it is absolutely true. I wrote a letter to my dad a while back. The following is that letter. Dad,  I've thought about you a lot since you've been gone, and sometimes I don't think about you at all. It's not out of a lack of care, or a disregard. It's because I know somehow I've got to keep moving forward. I know that because life is what it is, I'll continue to lose more people who are dear to me, and I've got to learn how to navigate that in order to protect and preserve my holistic wellbeing.  It's hard going back to the house that I grew up in. Hell, the house that you grew up in. I still think that

  The Best And Worst Of Who I Am.   I'm the small one in the photo. I am my father's son, and my mother's child. I was sweet and adorable at my best, burdensome and irreverent at my worst. A 7lb 13 1/2 oz. mass of humanity that by no real plan or intention fell into the world on April 15th, 1983. I'm LeRoy, nice to meet you.  My first memories are from the crib. I remember darkness and fear. There were shadows on the wall casting through the window of what my mom now uses as a computer room. I remember screaming and crying in terror, but that's really all I remember. I'm sure my mom or dad sleepily shuffled into the room and soothed the crying toddler after being awoken by the sound-sensitive flashing light that notified them that I was in distress.         Most of my childhood was as ordinary as one would expect for the only child of two deaf parents being raised as a 4th generation Montanan in a bygone copper smelting town. CODAs is what we are referred to as.