Clarity Before The Storm

So, today I've been sitting in my apartment waiting for the doom that is Sandy to rain over me... yep, that's a Who reference.

It was while I was sitting alone in my apartment that I let my mind wander a little bit, a dangerous prospect for me as a law school. I asked myself a question that I knew would lead to me writing something like this, so that's good I guess? Listed below is one of the worst questions a person sitting alone in an apartment can ask themselves and if you are in that situation I recommend that you turn back now.

Do I feel fulfilled in my personal life?

Man, that's like a slug to the chest when you're sitting all alone. There are a lot of things that went into answering this question. Questions of self-esteem, happiness of what I'm doing, happiness of life and other and I've come to this conclusion...

I'm not fulfilled.

Why is this? Do I question my decision to go to law school? No, I'm enjoying law school very much and am happy that I've taken this path. Am I upset that I have very few people I'm particularly close to? That may be. I enjoy the amount of acquaintances I have, but if you were to ask me a question of who I felt a deep friendship with in my life the answer to that question would be much smaller than I care to admit. Am I happy  in my relationship status? Not especially, it's very hard knowing that many of my friends and acquaintances are in relationships and I have no one to share life with at this point.

So, what is a person to do? Well, it's probably very simple. I need to finally manifest my feelings and continue to step further outside myself to get what I want out of life. I cannot be a idle spectator in my life, I have to get involved. This is a first step, the next step is easily the hardest one, which is to do these things.

Only I can be held accountable for these changes, so I hope that those of you who read this understand that I am not coming from a dark place with this. I'm not sitting at my table with the blade pressed to my wrist looking for attention. This is an easier way for me to manifest these thoughts and provide some peace of mind to myself and accountability for them by putting them out there for you to hold me to. I look forward to take this transformative journey with all of you in my life be you family, friend or acquaintances.

~ RB

Midnight In Paris

So, while I was in France I spent some nights writing (spare me the boos I know you are throwing from behind your monitor). I was trying to come up with something decent that summed up my trip for you guys, and I think I got close, but also got really introspective into a side of me I don't like to bring out often. That being said, here's my little non-fiction essay about my time spent in France.

The Americans in Paris

As you read this, you should know I am writing on Thursday, 17/3/11. It is Saint Patrick's Day and I am sitting on my twin bed at the FIAP Jean Monnet in Paris France. I stare at a white sheet of paper and white stucco walls as I begin to write this piece with my favorite red pen. It is just past midnight, Thursday has just begun and for the majority of us, the night is young.

My roommate for the week Barry has stepped out with Diana and Amy to hit up the clubs and bars of Paris, while I have chosen to stay in as I always do. Tomorrow I will visit the cemetery where Oscar Wilde, Chopin, and Jim Morrison are buried before embarking on an adventure to a European football match.

The night is as young as an infant to most, this is my 4th day here, but I feel as if I have only just arrived. As the rest of the group descends on Paris, the night glows bright like Times Square on New Years, it is a night of celebration, a night to party. The flags have been raised and Paris has been put on notice, the Americans have arrived.

However, it is not just us who have arrived, world travelers from all corners of the globe has descended on Paris. Outside my window I hear the shouts of an Argentinean rugby team and outside my door I hear the conversation of some Canadians. If America is a melting pot, Paris is a petri dish of culture, all forms and different people thrown together in one large social experiment, all existing as different strains of the same DNA, the DNA of humanity.

I reflect on the week to that point. I have seen things so majestic and moving that some people may only see once in a lifetime. It is in this moment that the true paradox of Paris becomes clear. It is a city tied to the past with such reverence for the days of European strength, trying to exist in the world of an ever changing and complex future. Parisians and tourists then are prisoners of the present, caught in a place where moments last for eternity as time continually moves forward.

It is in this cruel constraint that we must exist, I have gone without any type of electronic technology for 4 days, and I am perfectly ok in saying that. Others through wait for the moment in which they can return stateside to cradle their effective cell phones again.

It is in small moments where time freezes where I hope to remember this vacation. I fear however that for most of us, the stories and moments they remember will be nights of wild parties and sweet wine. Instead of being left breathless by viewing the Eiffel Tower at night, they may remember the flashing lights of a nightclub. Instead of marveling at the Mona Lisa, they will marvel as they made it back to the hostel at 5:15 in the morning.

It is not that I hate people who drink, far from it. It is that after seeing how alcoholism makes people act and having it be in my family, I have never had a drink of alcohol. I know plenty of people who do, but the idea of a night I can't remember is much less pleasant to think about than a night I'll never forget. Plus, I'm fun enough without drinking anyway.

It is in this moment that I realize that I am not having as much fun on this trip as I should. That is not to say I'm having a terrible time, but the truth of the matter is that I have nothing in common at all with any of the people I am traveling with. Once this trip is over, I will probably never talk to any of them again, while they have formed some connection. I feel ostracized from the group, a lonely traveler through France.

The other question I needed to understand the answer to was why was I here. What had I come to Paris to find? Pictures fade over time, memories fade as we age, but it is the stories that we have to hold onto. For most it'll be the crazy nightlife, but what is it for me?

It won't be of the food, although Steak Tartar and Creme Brulee were surprising good. It won't be of the spiritual experiences, even though Notre Dame is enough to bring any man to their knees. It will not be of the history, enough though seeing all the tourist spots makes everything seems so small over time.

It is then that I think of a few hours earlier. I got on the metro on my way back to the hostel after a group dinner. On the train with me were two attractive American girls, one blond, one brunette with southern drawls. A few stops before I saw supposed to get off, the brunette stood to leave. I knew that I could keep going on, but I also knew that I could transfer back to this line. I needed to find her, for that moment where ever she was was where I wanted to be.

I dashed off the train and followed her through the largest metro station in Paris, getting short of breath and slightly irritated that she has always just out of reach. She got in front of a group of tourists on a moving walkway and with one more turn she was gone, another shadow in the City of Lights.

As I think back to that moment, I thought why did I do it? In asking this question I found not only the answer, but also the answer to what I came to Paris to find. I came to rekindle the magic of life. I had been swept up for a moment in a opportunity that never arose. I learned that magic is where fortune and luck meet at the intersection of life.

As I sit here, I here the Frenchmen outside my door say Merci to someone and I want to take this moment to say Merci Vocu to Paris. Thank you for letting this American be swept up in the magic of your city if only for a little while.

Law School Quartet

As my regular readers know I'm going to law school and I'm also trying to figure out these emotions as we go, so here's 4 new poems I pounded out this afternoon. This also includes my first attempt at slam style, it's not good... but it's a start.

I: Gray Matters

Yes
Knowledge is power
Context is key
Answers are Concrete
Hard and Gray
No

II: Jazz Law

Torts Nova, Civ Pro Stomp,
Contract Blues.
Cases serve only to comp,
which do you choose?

Sometimes it hinges on
what people don't say.
It looks like an easy response
Ipsa Res

So what is this thing
I signed up for here?
I guess it's like jazz
not usually clear.

So make sure your ideas
get proper gestation,
It's all about the journey,
hardly the destination.

III: Lawyer Haiku

I know I don't know,
I know that I can know that
I will know... not yet.

IV: Leap of Faith

You are good enough.
You are smart enough.
People like you,
You can be a success.

You leap from the cliff
into the great unknown,
flying with wings made of
self-assurance and hope.

But uncertainty and
self doubt begin to
melt these wings like
an Icarian Sun.

Here's hoping we made
our wings strong enough to get
to the other side.

White Wall

There is nothing there,

It stands bare

or perhaps it doesn't.

Perhaps it is a canvas

of opportunity, waiting

for the creative soul to explore it.

Maybe it is left open

to interpretation, much like this

poem about it.

In the end I guess

the most important thing

about this white wall is that it's standing.

A quintet of poems

I've been looking into going a little deeper with my work for some time now, and this is probably the closest I've gotten to an actual running concept throughout a set of my poetry. You'll notice that each poem below is about a different stage of love and relates to some experiences of people I know and have felt myself. Also, since this is a quintet the poems are all named after songs, these represent a playlist of love that I feel also fits things as well, links to the songs are clickable through the titles. I hope you enjoy all of these as much as I did writing them.


I: "Just A Friend"

Trapped
Locked up by the convictions of our
friendly relationship

The intentions I had are still the same, yet
I cannot express in the manner I thought I should have
And now, even that relationship is gone

You had what I desired, but I was
trapped in the friend zone
blinded the hope of something that I couldn't verbalize

My heart was in my throat and you ripped it out of me,
leaving me speechless...


II: "Hello"

Hello

It is one of the first words we learn
But it is one of the hardest to say

It is the ultimate conversation started,
yet the easiest way to get blown off

Some nod heads, some wave, some don't even need to say it
It is one of the great assumptions

It has plagued me for years,
"just say 'hello' stupid, what's the worst that can happen?"

Hopefully one day I be able to say it to you
and I hope if you walk into my world, you'll be willing to say it as well.

Goodbye


III: "Black Heart Inertia"

Behold the most beautiful girl in the world
her delicate skin, her sensual frame, her witty personality
What man would not want to be with her, but there is a catch

To be with her to sell your soul to the devil, for you see,
she has the blackest heart in all the galaxy

A women so beautiful and fun,
yet she believes she is so devoid of the capability to love
Perhaps you are the one she's been waiting for
To banish the darkness from her heart and soul.


IV: "Poison"

Some people believe love is like a fine wine
Just let the relationship age and it will get better
I know better than that though

Most things in life are poisonous
with harmful side effects like lack of social life, perpetual longing,
constant speculation, possible restraining orders, and at the end of the day
amputation of the relationship

Love is the forbidden fruit of life, everyone wants it
but only some are willing to do anything for and perhaps most interestingly,
it's protected by a poisonous snake... better know where the antidote is.


V: 'Heartbreak Warfare'

What are we fighting for anymore?
The rampant discussions
the relentless speculation

People work each side like scouts, trying to make heads or tails of it
It's become a war of attrition, the end nowhere in sight

Is is a possibly we don't even know if we should be fighting?
Why are we here, on this battlefield?

I got lost in no man's land, trying to put a sense to all of this,
but the fog of war continues to cloud everything,
I wish it could end, I want to go home,
This isn't my war

Heartbreak Tastes So Sweet

*All names, except mine, have been changed*

It is February 14^th, 1998 in Volney Elementary School. Today is Valentine’s Day, a day for love, and in my case, a day to hope for a miracle courtesy of Saint Valentine. I had watched Rebecca from far away for far too long. This year was going to be mine and I was going to have her as a girlfriend. True, I might not have know what it meant to be dating someone in elementary school, but the sense of having a partner in crime, especially the prettiest girl in the grade was something that got me thinking. My hormones were going crazy day after day and Rebecca was who I had in my heart.

Sure, we were only ten, we didn’t know what was going on, but when I was with her life was just the way it should be. I looked at her from across Mrs. D’s classroom and hoped to just catch a glance from her. I sat at the desk in the back corner of the room on the left side. We sat in alphabetic order and I was near the beginning. I was seated near the poster of a world map, where I was able to learn most of the countries in the world. From time to time I’d stare out into the center of the room and I’d see Rebecca. I’d smile like an idiot and turn back to my work. But to me she was something out of a fantasy world, shoulder length blond hair and dark brown eyes, my heart skipped a beat every time I thought about her coming near me and yet, I did nothing.

Then Valentine’s Day came. I had the great idea of buying her some chocolate and writing her a poem. Truly this gambit of love would win her affections. I knew it was a big risk that I could get embarrassed but when you are in love or even think you’re in love you’re willing to do stupid things. Just to have her hand brush across mine or even a hug was something I would have given my arm for. I had planned this move for some time and I knew that it would work. She wasn’t dating anyone in the school and I would appear with chocolate and lovesick poem in hand and sweep her off her feet and into my arms and heart.

I was standing outside the classroom when I got the idea; I would leave it in her locker and just initial my poem. She’d know who it was from without me risking embarrassment from my friends. I walked into the empty hallway, black tiles everywhere and no noise to be found. I walked to Rebecca’s locker. I had asked around to some of her friends what the combo for her lock was and fortunately her friend Laura gave it to me; 37-8-14. I quickly spun the dial around and heard that little click noise that let me know I was successful. Upon opening her blue locker and looked inside. It has the usual stuff you would have expected a 4^th grader to have had. She had her pens, her pencils, all in a carrying case. Her backpack was there as was her lunch box. Haha! The lunchbox, that’s where I can put this. So I took the candy and the poem and left it in her locker. I had to wait until lunch around 11 am to see what she would think, and when we were on our way back to class she slipped the piece of paper I left for her in my locker. I couldn’t wait to get confirmation of my feelings so I immediately asked to go to the bathroom. Rebecca looked up at me and shot me a smile. Success was going to be mine!

I went back into the hallway and opened my locker. It was a little less well-kept than Rebecca’s. I had pencils and pens scattered about, books from the library and other assorted things. I moved my Power Rangers book bag until I saw the piece of paper. I saw my poem. It read:

“ Dear Rebecca it is true,

I really do love you.

From your long golden hair

To your heart breaking stare.

I ask you this on Valentine’s Day

Do you want to go out with me on Saturday?”

I was very proud of it, it conveyed emotion and left her open to respond. In all, it was a decent poem. Then I saw her response. “Ryan, I know you feel this way about me, but the feelings aren’t mutual, you are very smart, but you aren’t athletic or good looking like Jake or Will. Sorry, but thank you for the chocolate. ~Rebecca.”

I thought back to a few days before. I told my best friend Will that I had this plan to do this and he told me to go for it. After I all I had been raised on a culture where the girl who was out of the league of the guy pursuing them ending up with the nerd at the end. It works in the movies, so it had to work in real life, right?

It went like this, the guy watched the girl from afar and waited too long and she got snatched up by the total antithesis of the man who really wanted to date the female in question. Then, the guy would tell the girl that he loved her and she would respond with a “Oh, but I’m with him,” scenario, leading our misguided geek to prove his love through a grandiose event, then show her that she was right for him and they would get together and live happily ever after.

My mom, who helped me plan this, told me that people will take you or leave you no matter what you look like, it’s what’s on the inside that truly counts. So that’s what I focused on. I was a caring young 4^th grader, the smartest kid in the school, regardless of grade and was helpful and kind to just about anyone. Sure, I wasn’t the fastest or the most handsome, but I was someone that people liked to be around. I was the fat friend, the kind of guy who always came up spades in these movies and I was looking to finally have my moment in the sun with my crazy scheme to win Rebecca.

All my scheme got me was a trip to the bathroom to cry. I sat on that white toilet looking at a beige wall and sobbed. How could have this happened, why wasn’t life unfolding in the way it should? I had done nothing wrong, I had followed the rules and the style to a t and yet I sat here alone and crying on a toilet in an elementary school. My heart felt heavy and I just continued to cry. After around 5 minutes I got up, ran my hands under the water, got water in my eyes, a trick to make it look like I hadn’t been crying, and went back to class.

I sat right back down and started working on my social studies work. Every once in a while I would start to look over toward Rebecca and I had to focus on something else in the room. I counted the dots in the white ceiling tiles, I looked at the pattern of the floor tiles, I noticed that we had 8 colored blocks big enough to sit on at the front of the room, for whatever reason. I read every note scribbled into my desk , I looked at my friend Will for some consoling, but I saw that he was too busy making eyes with Rebecca and it was then I knew what had happened.

I was outdone. I was proven to be a fool by a man who I had told of my plan and he outdid me. He took my plan and ideas and made them his own. What a great friend Will was. I got onto the Route 8 bus and went back home to tell my mom about the day.

I walked up my long dirt driveway and went up the snow covered steps into our white ranch house far off the road. My sister was tagging along, but she went into her room and started playing with her Barbie’s. I sat down with my mom and told her about my day. She said that she was sorry and I let out a yell that would have made someone thought she hit me before breaking into a tirade. “Sorry? You’re sorry? Sorry isn’t gonna cut it this time Mom! I did what you said would work; I did everything right but it failed! You lied to me Mom, you lied to me!”

It was then my mom told me something that still sends a shiver up my spine to this very day. She called me with that typical mom voice, “Ryan Michael Bergman, don’t you ever talk like that to me again, do you hear me? Now, here’s what you need to know about life, sometimes it doesn’t work out the way that you think it should. Sadly, we live in a world where being nice and good and smart just doesn’t cut it. First impressions are still very important and you need to know that. I’m sorry that this hasn’t worked out for you, but one day you are going to find someone who loves you for what you can bring them, and it will be someone who deserves you.” I guess it was only fair that on Valentine’s Day my mother gave me a little bit of tough love.

Empty Room

The room lays barren,
someone has been here recently
but who?

The chair is still warm.
Warm with the scent of
a gentle and quiet individual

The desk lies clean,
clean as a blank sheet of paper,
when before it was a fury of clutter

The bed is nude,
as naked as a conquest that
may have been there.

The closet are empty
As empty as the person
who once was here.

There is little joy, there is little sorrow
It is a testament to nothingness.
The feeling of numbness of everyday life

For those who has known,
they will be left with empty feelings
and fond memories

For those who didn't,
those memories will fade away
into spotty photographs in their own stories.

It is all our destinies to leave rooms empty,
just make sure that when you do,
you leave a presence behind.