A Sunday...

Who knew? Not I. This life is not something easily defined. We think with confidence that we can look up existence in the dictionary and be rightly satisfied. This is false. We are not who we think we are, no matter how much we smugly contemplate it. Love is the only answer, as wavering of a thing that it is. My hand is your hand, and God is all around us. So breath deep next time; matter matters. The king of the Earth is blind with an empty hole in his meaty chest where his heart used to be, and his voice is the deafening thunder that splits the sky. And we will continue to love him for it.

So here I go writing again...

THE WIDOW

Ellen: The widow. Loses her husband at the worst of times. Pregnant, she is induced into an abortion when her husband is murdered. Slipping into both a world of desperate erasure and an unknown becoming of truth with a stranger, Ellen struggles on the fine line of clarity and insanity.

The killer, spawns a killer. For, See no evil, do no evil.

Jake: An honest man, is transformed into that which he fears most. One night after a long shift serving beer and cocktails Jake goes to simply empty the garbage, unbeknown to him is what awaits in that alley. That behind that very door resides the coming to of his destiny. To lose his mind.

Old writing found again...

It must have been during summer, the day in which I was taught the meaning of birth, because I can recollect the refreshing chill received upon entering the cool hallways of my elementary school, a much appreciated sensation after a lunch spent piloting a swing. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Hiratchi, had our class gather in a circle around a box with holes no bigger than a pen would inflict. Inside, with glossy eyes equal in both wide expression as well as curiosity, slouched three golden puppies. Following their introduction, Mrs. Hiratchi explained that in comparison the puppies were in their years equal to that of the second grade class, and like humans, puppies are born. The rest of that days teachings, though like many memories of mine from such an age, have faded over the years. Yet one of three fundamentals I would later claim those of life, in my opinion, was brought into understanding. Though the complexities of existence are not easily placed in a mere three categories, and that which the origin of such classification escapes me amongst the flood of input that has yet to cease (nor would I wish for it to do so), I am left with the embedded phrase, “Life, love, and death: the human experience”.

Eh:

RIP: Crazy white chick with phobia of green lemon flavored gummies shaped as bears.

LOVE IS A BITCH. A CRUEL YET REWARDING MISTRESS.

"Me time"

We all have an idea of who we are. Joe is Joe, Mary fucks Joe and Joe and Mary have Moe. That's life. I am me you are you. That sort of thing. Hello again

my name is Cory Alan Barrow, and well, I just felt like telling you a little about myself. Currently 21. Currently employed. Currently dating. Currently and constantly ready for anything. Currently awaiting the sun to poke back out of the clouds so I can go back outside, light one up and kill myself slowly. There's nothing like working in the medical field and rebelling by having a cigarette from time to time, most people don't understand how liberating that truly is. Oh yeah the medical field, definitely not for me.

"What do you want from life?" Bill asks. "Good question Bill"

I want peace of mind, but, who doesn't these days. I want to be able to roll out of bed one day, yawn, stretch, and step out onto solid ground. I want the best for those around me who aren't complete assholes. I want the grass to be greener on the otherside. I'm tired. More on that later.

To be continued...

So this is what that was for!

Life in Iwakuni is much like a revolving door. We push on only to circle the same site for two years or until we drive ourselves into some other dimension of day in and out insanity. The new leadership here, well, they are like that little rock that gets wedged into your roller skate while your just cruising along. Next thing you know, you're diving head first into an asphalt sandwhich with a side order of "picking debris out of your brow".

I've been here for nearly ten months now, which is in my opinion long enough for anyone to establish well, an opinion. If it weren't for my side workings of intense human social interaction research I think I would have gone mad by now. I mean what kind of a life is leading people down a path of complete and utter miserable useless Sun Tzu-like discipline. War is a thing of the past, most people would agree. Let us just hope the leaders come to realize this as well. Oh and if you don't like it (as to say your one of those ignoramus' that thinks war is a necessary evil) go fuck yourself and de-evolve on some abandoned shit hole of a continent.

Twas a Sunday...

"Pens are drained of ink, as we conjure thoughts that sink, deep into our chests- patiently passing time until your familiar steps. Unrest. Tests. The rhythmic rise and fall of your resting breaths. My two seasons to your four. Somewhere in-between. Somewhere to explore." -Ramblings on duty.

We are not the things we create, rather, the things we create are us. Whos to say who is worthy of anything. Death is a constant reminder of life constanly surrounding us.

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The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scare could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

- W. B. Yeats

Fahk'n Wow!

Life is not a box of chocolates but rather, the cosmos in a blender. Without a straw and some friends you’ll never suck this one down the hatch. Just when you think you may have things figured out, that maybe, just maybe, you have obtained some thinning shred of understanding its then that you get pushed right back into the ultimate state of misunderstanding.

Love is not a movie, a song, or a postcard of some sunny fucking Colorado sunrise over white capped mountains. Love is life, which is not a box of chocolates but rather, the cosmos in a blender. And well without a led pipe, you won't get through this part of life.

"I don't want to grow up, that's too much contradiction. Friction." -Tom Verlaine. We all grow up at some point, well, just some more than others. Which is not to say I will not one day pride myself on my lack of climbing the maturity tree (within reason). For, I alike so many other anthropoids do truly understand that holding on to as much of our childlike intentions is going to keep us at just the right level of insanity. Yes, I do miss the days where a bookshelf with scattered titles could be a skyline for my superheroes to commit extreme acts of violence and heroism. When the grass in the backyard was an unexplored habitat of supreme interest (who knew ants lives such inspiring lives). Such purpose that these tiny little creatures create for themselves. Such dilligence for the cause at hand. On a good day, we can be compared to them. Yet, then again, where is the cognitive, creative, and crazyness in that sort of existence?

PARENTHOOD? wtf?
re·pro·duc·tion : the natural process among organisms by which new individuals are generated and the species perpetuated.

"Scared shit less" My head telling, well, my head.

The daunting reality of possibly becoming a father is by far the most frightening yet exhilarating feeling I have ever felt. I haven't felt this alive since... well I better not go there. So there it has been said, I am almost 90% sure I will be a father this time nine months from now. And by this time I mean like... er... 8:54pm? Sure, why not, that works. A baby. Say it with me, "A baby". Crazy right. I just got goosebumps I don't know about you. There is no thought more magical than the idea of assisting the placement of thoughts into another mind. Children are our chance to once again tap into the source, to become a kid, to get as close to God as we as adults may possibly get. When I look at the sky (day/night) I feel like I am a kid again. That vast dome leading to infinite possibility holds the truth. During the day, the deep blue with white marble makes me drift off into a whole world of thought, which, for me is getting as close to the source I can without a new mind to coerce me to relive the unsolved days of youth. Maybe between periods and spaces I sit here with my twenty-one year old fingers and wish for this child to be born. Or, maybe I feel that austere to the situation, that it is out of my hands and if that beautiful woman is deprived yet again of a normal child birth that it was the will of some other than my own. Who knows? Well I do, but, wheres the mystery in telling you now?

A little place called...

Cherry blossoms in April, and pie firmly placed upon faces while children juggle water balloons. Where the hell am I going with this I have no Idea. Iwakuni Japan is not exactly what I would call a place of dreams, but with the right perspective you can drain it for every last drop of insight it may very well possess.


It is a small city consisting mostly of farmers and their modest living spaces (modest when compared to California standards of huge everything). The diligence that they apply to their work, their farms, is for me something to be admired. If you can do that back breaking work all day and still go home with a smile on your face, well, congratulations on a life well lived.


Downtown you can get a slight taste of trendy Japanese culture but, really, everything within twenty miles of this base is less than authentic (in my eyes). But that's life. Located downtown is a train station, which for a mere fourteen dollars will get you to Hiroshima and back. Speaking of Hiroshima, well, I'll get to that some other time. I've been up for nearly 24 hours...Duty...Which isn't saying much but whatever.

Where in the world is Carm-... I mean Barrow?!

Travel = Essential
Note to self, don't let friends drive drunk, or get drunk and enlist in the military. *Smacks self on forehead* Yet thanks to that coerced decision whom I only have myself to thank, I currently find myself in yet another corner of the world, where things are like channel 126 back home (Discovery). Yes Iwakuni Japan, home of the world famous Kintai bridge (shh don't tell the bridge that most of the world has no clue of its' existence).



And no, coming here is nothing like my adventures in Europe but that is more a matter of circumstance than anything. Eighteen, fresh out of high school, on a break with the so called sweetheart, free, and determined to have a good time. Well I wasn't meant to take Europe alone but, when it came down to the wire my best friend didn't get his passport and I ended up going at it alone. Which, as I look back at it now was probably for the best, I mean it forced me to look at the situation with a little more awe than I might have with the teenage influence of a best friend. Smell London, briefly, taste Belgium and Germany, get under Amsterdam's skin, and well in a certain little way taste samples of many other flavors Europe has to offer via the people. Eye opener. At eighteen that is exactly what it was, and, I don't care if I have to break my back to do it I will send my children when they graduate. In shorter words, 'here you go, this is the world'. And in no means should travel lose its luster with age, I think it actually becomes a more informing and enlightening experience as you get older. Japan for example, I'm here on orders, that means I didn't pull my pants down, spin a glob and wherever little man landed I was like "lets go and have some fun there".

I landed in Tokyo on, well, I think it was the evening of Jan 12th. Rain. I am not sure why but every time I travel I always land in pouring rain, I suppose it is just one of those things, a trademark if you will. I felt like I walked into some Nintendo induced dream where if one weren't careful, they might find themselves being swallowed by some giant fire spewing plant. No it wasn't really that bad, but, the constant dings overhead followed by a pleasant yet indiscernible Japanese voice was very enriched with the digital undertones that video games often contain. Beep Beep. So there I was, no Yen (yet), no hotel, and no firm destination other than the airport the following day for my connecting flight. Don't ask me the name of the hotel I ended up in, you won't get a definite answer. When it comes to minor details, I will not remember them unless something blew me away, which nothing other than the obvious little novelties did. Don't get me wrong, a toilet seat that cleans itself is quite the sight, as well as all the other bite size accommodations, they all just didn't strike me as something I needed to remember the name of that hotel for. Ah the bar, peas and fried octopus chips...yummy. Er... Well hell, I'm up for whatever. I did the whole herring thing in Amsterdam, had the Belgium waffle in Belgium, the brat and well pig family jewel shooters in Germany; so I was quite prepared for whatever Japan had to throw my way in all senses, especially culinary (wow I was naive).
So after about say my fourth or fifth Sapporo I was feeling the good spirits and toured the area. I will say this, Japanese are very curious, I like this. Curious people invoke curious actions, meaning I give them reasons to be more curious. Japanese women, well, not so curious (until you are in a appropriate setting that is). Niko. My first experience with a Japanese women, and no, nothing too exciting happened (although I did realize not to mistake the bashfulness for the closed door reality that truly exists here). So a dinner from a vending machine that cooked my fries, hotdogs and supplied me cold Asahi, a latenight of wandering and strange television broadcasts, followed by a cabride with self opening doors and a short flight to Hiroshima. Transport to Japan concluded. Iwakuni, well, i'll get to that some other time.

Relationships

Relationships! Well well. Has to start somewhere, right?
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*a relation between people; (`relationship' is often used where `relation' would serve, as in `the relationship between inflation and unemployment ...
*a state of connectedness between people (especially an emotional connection); "he didn't want his wife to know of the relationship"
*a state involving mutual dealings between people or parties or countries
*kinship: (anthropology) relatedness or connection by blood or marriage or adoption

Well now that we've cleared that up... Relationships to me are really either the most simple or complex damn thing about this little existence we lead. And I know what you are thinking, "Dudes in his early twenties what the hell does he know!" Well shun that thought you arrogant prick! I don't claim to know more than that in which my mind lets me, which of course is going to differ from your point of view (why life is so marvelous c'mon now). Me, I wish I could meet every single person in the world (not going to happen).
Negative. Positive. Ying and yang. Black and white. Men and women. That simple. That complex. (And men and men etc... 2008 here no offense God is pissed you found the loophole and that is awesome, more power to 'ya).
When I meet someone I am not immediately saying "hey is this person compatable with my personality", regardless of gender, well in terms of like just knowing you (I like women, again no offense). But, when I meet a female it is completely different, which may be the very reason us Barrows have such a reputation. Immediately upon meeting a female regardless of situation she is immediatley getting like the Barrow x-ray scan. Just looking for the knife under your work vest, no worries. What I mean by this is, when you are curious about something there really is no denying it. And well, women as a whole strike my curiosity (a shared feeling I am sure). And seriously gentlemen if your woman senses a loss in curiosity well you are certainly doing something wrong.
In my experience, if you want something, just say so! I've seen alot of divorce, maybe because I am from California, or maybe because well it is just so common these days. That being said, the main reason for most of their downfall (those I witnessed) is a lack of communication. Not the typical communication like "hey, I really wish we talked more" wtf is that. No communication in the sense of, "hey when you say you will do this and don't it really pisses me off", or "hey I would really like it if we could blah blah do this activity." If you want something you have to say so. It is a misconception to think that hey I want this therefore this thing I want I should expect from my relationship. Negative. If you want something then you should only expect it from yourself, in the sense that, if "I want this bad enough I will get it". Be yourself, if that doesnt work then you should probably find someone else. Good rule of thumb. Dont force it.
The most important relationship is the one with yourself. Conquer that. If you two can get along there is no limit to the things you could do.

Well well... First impressions always important.

You have to love toady's day and age. Ah, you smell that, technology! Actually I cant stand the smell, but I'm color blind, obnoxious and very prone to the more obscure of activities so who knows what else is wrong with me. My name, well, in the NAVY I am simply Barrow. Yes, so call me The Barrow, because at this moment in time I apparently stand on the front lines of showing the world (Iwakuni Japan) who the Barrows are. You know, in my personal experience alot of people have this conception about themselves, that "Oh my, every action that precedes every little decision I make is going to define both me and my name". Sorry. That is not how I feel. I want the world to prove something to me. Think about it, it will make more sense later I'm sure. Just some advice i've gotten along the way. Would read: "Go your whole life trying to impress the world you'll find the world to be quite unimpressive. Just live Cory." Damn. So much for going by The Barrow. Hi. My name is Cory Alan Barrow. And thanks to technology you get the privelage to dive into some of my thoughts. Exciting ay? Well I suppose that is just a question of how bored you are!