Tag Archives: Friendship

Confessional Poetry, Essay, Gay Love, Gay Writer, Life, Love, Pain, Resolutions, Social Issues

Best Friends, Love, and Honesty in a New Year

It’s a New Year! And as the exclamation implies, it should be a time for unregulated excitement. Forget the fact that it is slightly cliché, the New Year is supposed to symbolize hope and renewal. And although I usually try to celebrate the New Year on my birthday-I mean technically that is my New Year- each year I find myself falling prey to some sort of custom that the New Year offers i.e. resolutions. Go to the gym or try to eat nothing but organic, are just a couple that I have tried in the past, to no avail. But this year I wanted to be a little more genuine and chose the concept of honesty.

My first attempt was to admit my feelings for one of my good friends. This was not an easy task for me. For months my best friends have tried to get me to admit my feelings for this particular guy, to which I would always just play it down. “He is just one of my good friends” I would say, to faces of disbelief, because apparently my face would always betray me. And in truth, I always knew I cared about him. For instance, I would get unreasonably angry if anyone upset him. In all honesty I can be a little self-absorbed, so for me to care about someone else on such a level says something. So I finally decided to tell him how I feel.

In short, he doesn’t feel the same. And although I believe it will take some time for me to get over the antagonizing grief I feel at the moment, I am glad I told him. Well most of the time anyway. I didn’t know a side effect of such a revelation would be to feel like I am lost in a sense. And after thinking it over, I believe I know what is causing my sense of displacement. It is belief, my belief that he was the “one.” I invested so much thought into the idea of “us” that the fact that it is extinguished has left me feeling jettison. And I believe there is one culprit to that has set me up, as a gay man, to feel this way, the gay guy-straight guy friendship.

Now first let me preface by saying I do believe that gay guys and straight guys can have friendships without the gay guy falling for the straight one. I have quite a few actually. Also, that was way wordier than I intended it be. But I think my personal issue resides in the fact that I am a hopeless romantic who believes that every person should fall in love with a person who is ultimately his/her best friend. So that’s what I do. I fall for my best friends; technically only two, the guy is question would be my second. Side note- I am lucky that they were both understanding cause being in Wyo things could have been much worse, but I guess that is why they were  my best friends (so redundant). Any who, my pattern is to fall for my best friends because I already feel close to them and have shared with them some of my darkest secrets. Itjust felt natural.

With that in mind, I knew that figuring out my pattern was half the battle. In order to avoid future heart break I knew I had to figure out how to change. So after being honest with myself I knew what my problem was. I am afraid to date guys in the long term because I don’t want to be completely honest about myself with them. I like to be viewed a certain way and only let my good friends see the real me. Going forward, I think I have to just be more honest about who I am and hope that some guy doesn’t mind. Isn’t that all that anyone hopes for?

-jurri saddler jr.-

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Essay, Gay Writer, Humanity, Instagram, Life, Pain, Social Issues, Social Media

Social Media, Psychology and the New Year

So I realize the title to my blog is “Random bits of poetry and essay,” and I haven’t exactly being striving to live up to the title’s description. Thus far I have only written poetry. But alas, that is going to change tonight. As the year comes to a close, it seems that a myriad of social media-inspired novelties have hit the internet to celebrate the ending of one year and the arrival of the next year. Whether it is some uplifting quote about letting go of the past or a meme about the annoyance people foolishly believing that this is the year they will stick to their resolutions, I found myself taken by one on Instagram. The image I am referring to can be found at the end of this post-please don’t skip ahead-and I want to describe the psychological game it played on my mind.

First and foremost, I think a basic description of the image is in order. In a nut shell, it a crossword puzzle style image that asks viewers to pick out the first three words he/her sees. By doing so, one will uncover how their 2015 will go. I know. I know. My initial reaction was somewhere between a gag and awkward giggle on the absurdity spectrum, but I did it anyway. What can I say? I am a half-hearted fool for New Year shenanigans. The three words that I instantly saw were love, beauty, and popular. My first reaction bordered on that of being extremely underwhelmed and utterly upset (I am at war with myself on the daily. It’s a Gemini thing, maybe?). Those three words seemed so basic to others I found upon further viewing and I kind of hated what it unintentionally said about me. That is, I am a needy, vain, and attention-starved individual. So I commented my results and moved on.

Or so I thought. But low and behold after drinking a few, beer and wine are my main vices, I found myself drawn to the image again and my results.  Now I will preface by saying I am no psychologist. My experience with the subject lies in a one high school class and two collegiate ones. However, I am willing to bet from a psychological standpoint that the words that generally stand out to people give insight to his/her character. Say what!? This might not be as astounding as I think it is, my damn vices, but it moved me nonetheless. Love, beauty, and popular suddenly became these beacons for insecurities that I try to hide on the daily.

For instance, the first one, love, hits a chord in me in ways that I am ashamed to admit. However, at the moment I am feeling pretty shameless, so here we go. Anyone remember a little ditty by T-Swizzle aka Taylor Swift called, “Shake it off.” She belts out a line that goes “I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay…” well I felt that line a little too deeply. I am guilty of going on too many dates, but up to this point it doesn’t seem like I can make it work. There is a natural feeling of inadequacy surrounding that, but my point is will I achieve love in 2015 or is that more directed at my inner desire to find love?

The next one, beauty, follows suit as well. I hate throwing out generalizations, but I believe a lot of gay men have a concern with their appearance- hell, I think that is a generalization for Americans in general- but that’s a topic for another day. I am no different. A little embarrassing anecdote, while my cousin was visiting for Christmas I took, what I believed, was a really good picture on Instagram. I couldn’t stop looking at it to the point where my cousin got a little annoyed with me. Side note- if Narcissus had Instagram instead of a river to look at his image, he probably could have avoided that death by drowning bit.  Just saying.  But my point is I have always been extremely insecure with my looks, so is it saying I will achieve satisfaction with my appearance or is it just detecting my low self-esteem issues.

Lastly, is the popular word. If you’ve been following my train of thought I am guessing you can guess where this one is going.  Yes, I am one of those needy types that has the extreme want to be liked…by everyone. I honestly don’t know where I picked it up from. Possibly because we moved so  much when I was growing up, (new schools and such) or the fact that my dad seemed to know everyone when I was growing up (restaurant and shopping trips, he always found someone), I have always craved the company and attention of others. I sort of want to be a male Kim Kardashian, but without all the nudity required to get there. Can’t I be a prude socialite? But again, is it saying that I will be well-known in 2015 or is it just getting my attention because I want to be popular?

My conclusion I believe is pretty obvious. The words highlight things that one is interested in or the things that one is insecure about. Maybe I have lost my faith in fortune telling devices-palm readings and tarot cards have never worked for me in the past-but I think I am just accepting it for what it seems to be indicating by my results. So here is my challenge to you reader. Honestly do the challenge for yourself and analyze your results in a manner similar to mine. Do your results seem similar?

-Jurri Saddler Jr.

crossword

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Bullying, Confessional Poetry, Depression, Gay Poet, Gay Writer, Life, Pain, Poem, Poetry, Slam Poem, Social Issues

Currency of Pain

Currency of Pain
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
Written: 12 Sept 2014

Common knowledge suggests words can hurt
Provoking the reality in a person to pervert
To a point where perspective is corroded
The beat of being now coded

Foggy thoughts thicken with poison
Naïve hearts descend to frozen
Happiness in veins start to congeal
Self-doubt is all that is real

To the ones who developed an aptitude
At holding the weight of verbal abuse
Plaster a false smile that touches the eyes
Hide the echoes of a foreseen demise

Today it’s a natural and a common exchange
To barter with the currency of pain
Make sure to grow your skin thick
Or risk becoming their nuisance

A joke about your shifting frame
Don’t like it, you can always change
Their snickers will fade from head
A new you formed by what others said

But what about traits rigidly set
How can one reasonably correct
The splash of race to which he was born
Or the culture from which she was formed

When people attack at individual’s roots
This can promote tragedy to brew
Possibly hate for the world or himself
A feeling like she’s teetering off life’s shelf

Yet we continue to boldly tease
Shading it under friendship’s normalcy
It is something that has become common place
Funny that malice has a natural taste

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Confessional Poetry, Depression, Gay Poet, Gay Writer, Life, Poem, Poetry, Slam Poem

The Game

The Game
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
Written: 04 Sept 2014

My memory has a tendency to make shadows
Blacking out things that I used to know
I can see experience flee and contort
Like a maze with no end, out of sorts

Last night my fingers fell wildly stale
Over written memories that fatally fail
To inspire emotion from a stalled state
There is no chance to resuscitate

Words meant to light up our connection
A stoic friendship meant for detection
Yet signed platitudes are hard to decipher
Bonds diminished by life’s accidental sniper

When heat spills on books meant to chill time
A side effect in a mind prone to decline
Recollections, like steam, tend to evaporate
The structure of brain much weaker than slate

So I cling to eyes for some solid foundation
Reminding myself of our joint creation
But I know that time is fond of the game
With ubiquity of people, recognition is maimed

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Confessional Poetry, Gay Poet, Gay Writer, Poem, Poetry, Slam Poem, Uncategorized

Quake

Quake
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
08 August 2014

When flecks of soul flush my eyes
From memories that careen as climes
I willingly prime myself to be pricked
By images and sounds detained in fragments

Such as a giggle that provokes skies to brew
Housed within the boy that I call nephew
As my age acts as time’s rapture
Calm can be leeched from that laughter

Or the way I paddle through smoke tinged ease
From the awe that heats the face of my niece
It’s in these flashes I wish time’s hand would cripple
Loosening its grip on a heart that’s fickle

It pushes me to times we hid beyond neighborhood lights
Siblings and friends breathing as night
It is had to believe we felt so safe
In a world where innocence is readily chafed

So I let the fragments collect and glare
Aware that newer ones hold less flare
Value found even without intensity
Can one compete with the storms of infancy

However in the hour when joy is procured
And distance among minds are abjured
Our hearts and souls chain as links
Friendships strengthen in that of a blink

Or how my feet matched those of foreign soil
The texture of hands that made my heart boil
Lifting me to join a night’s dreamscape
It was the only moment I trusted fate

Even the nights our eyes became words
Caffeine-infected, the hours naturally blurred
There was always some exam we had to ace
Between fact and fiction our stress erased

Despite how the fragments flow into heaps
I sift for the vibrant, desperate to cling
Finding truth in the tone of what’s said
Water won’t flow against bonds that are bred

Which is why ear favor tribal volumes
Hooking to sounds that can pigmentize rooms
Of cousins so tight we act as latches
Especially on our nights, we burn as matches

Or when conversations splinter then bind
Like chaos dancing in a torpid mind
Our restless banter acts as masquerade
The gibberish of siblings kept in shade

And how can I forget where refuge is formed
Shaking off the stress that is commonly worn
With a grandmother composed with an anchor’s soul
In a world of diamonds, she made me more than coal

So I will clutch to fragments hoping they don’t diminish
Afraid they’ll vacate before my finish
It’s my memories that cold dementia wants to take
Without them how will my heart continue to quake

 

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Uncategorized

Best Friend

Best Friend
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
02 July 2014

The play of light caresses my face
The soft hues I wish to separate
If only to feel a single fuse
A subtle attempt to peruse
the landscape of a mind’s fault

A body full of hope defeats rigor
With the pull of the blinds, the light bigger
The lids of my eyes heat to rose
And with it the pursuit to expose
the broken mind has come to a halt

Senses now sway with ignorant cheer
The abandonment has become dimly clear
Which leaves falsely spaced-out room
And gives me a chance to exhume
the origins of strings pulled by him

At this I accept the inevitable swarm
Of your memory laced within a storm
That brewed within for the past decade
Ever since the age I tried to evade
feelings stitched deep within

I thought there would be an expiration
On a teenage friendship dipped in elation
But I feel your echo persevere
Sometimes found in the echo of a tear
on a face unwilling to forget

Friendship that blazed from mutual hate
The dislike of one another bordered the innate
Yet we eventually stumbled on a connection
The intensity of which offered protection
from a mind prone to fits

Easy conversations that flowed for weeks
Naive-laced adventures we sought to seek
On cool grass our eyes clung to the moon
Unaware that the moment would end soon
enough for it to slip by us

You spoke as if our friendship was fated
I was quick to counter we were dated
To which your face quickly colored with pain
The silence that followed made it hard to explain
that I didn’t know how to trust

Our end, in mind, began to germinate
The excuse rushed in over winter break
I was quick to slap you with blame
A move I admit brought shame
that still follows me in dreams

So as I let the light touch my eyes
Trying to shake the effect of our demise
I realize in others I’ve tried to duplicate
A best friend I cannot recreate
by defectively clutching at seams

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