Soooo it's a big claim to say that i'm YOUR hero. I may not be your hero. (Some of mine being: James Wallace, Cindy Vix, Ellie Franz, Irvin Brown) That's cool. I'm fine with that. I realize it's a blanket term... . Soooo the xanga is movin'...

http://www.xanga.com/strikeforce_wisconsin (don't worry, it's still the same ol' alex)

On Writing: I want to tell you something you've already thought
"The Grand Essentials to happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for" ("I'm lacking one")
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"You're a great writer."
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I hope someday someone will see my writing and say to themselves, "that is beautiful". Not your everyday word beautiful, but truly beautiful.
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I love the idea of changing someone with my pen, transforming their thoughts, opening a new door for them.
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Oftentimes, I worry too much, think too much. Writing's more of a living thing, you've got to give it room to do its thing, or you'll kill it. I worry so much about writing for, say, scholarships (imagine that, and at my age) that I forget a few things, such as my Life and my Inspiration. One, thousands of miles away, and the other, breathing the very air I breath every minute of every day.
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Most times, it's just me waiting for something to say, but again, that's me thinking too much. There are tons of thoughts inside me, just waiting to spill out onto the page and be heard. But that's just the thing, these thoughts don't need my help to get out of my head, they just need to trickle down my arm to become my words.
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And I think about all my thoughts, more than half of which I can't figure out, and think, surely they are connected somehow, they all come together somehow. But the brain's too small for the big picture. The page, however, is not, at least for the big picture puzzle pieces inside my head. And slowly, things begin to become clearer with every stroke of the pen. If I relax enough, instead of writing what's on my mind, I can begin to write what's in my mind.
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I think that's part of an inspiration to write. Slowly, your emotions get all out of whack and off-balance and finally, some need to get out.
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[Emotions are magic. They transform you like nothing else in this world. And music is like an emotion catalyst. Together, they are hampering my writing, making me think too much. Maybe I should stop listening.]
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Silence is, after all, the best soundtrack for writing.
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Sometimes, I feel like I have nothing good to say, nothing incredibly deep. I think about it a good bit. And there's my problem, thinking again. But profound words are found. I think the creators of English made things easier than we make them out to be.
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We humans tend to exaggerate, hyperbolize, as you would say, dear. Most of our challenges are in our heads. Our trials. Our conflicts. Slowly, we will analyze ourselves, our doubts. Someday, we will have no doubts, so we'd better start studying them. Our doubts will show us what's inside us.
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And suddenly, I realize what all my writing is leading up to.
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I miss you so, dear.

                                                                                         -alex

[There are two parts to us: the part that wants to do what it needs and the part that needs to do what it wants.]

                                                     "All the confusion will piece together at the very end, once your pen is finished."

The Way. The Truth. The Life.

Everyone believes in something.

Currently Listening Almost Here By The Academy Is... see related

Ugh... totally wasn't planning on updating till hell froze over... but when them emotions get all stirred up you've gotta have somewhere to put them. crap. (and by the way... this won't make sense to you. I promise.)

It's March. I'm thinking, new assignment, heard it all before. But they tell me this time, I'm old enough to do some real work. They tell me there's a girl my age doing it, so I wouldn't have too much of an age gap. I'm not really worried about that. I'm thinking about me. I'm thinking about getting a job for the summer, I'm thinking about having a summer with no month-long space in the middle. Like every summer. But as I fought it, it became more and more apparent that I was going, like it or not. By the time I had to leave, I was so disgusted with my surroundings that I was glad to leave. I boarded an American Airlines Super-80 aircraft and watched the plains turn to mountains. I was filled with emotion. Frustration from my life. Thankful for this month-long break. I had no idea what I was in for. I was expecting the same experience as the other months I'd spent at camp.

The moment that trusty Super-80 cleared the last layer of cloud cover, I fell in love with a wonderful and magical place most people know as Seattle. We spent a good five days sight-seeing, looking at colleges, and I just kept adding on to reasons why this is the place I need to live out the rest of my life.

I went to the Church where we would meet. I met some people. I was used to my father's reputation preceding me, helping me along. Nobody's heard of Jim Gum in the Pacific Northwest, I soon realized. Despite how much experience that I'd had with this, I was a total rookie. We slept there, in uncomfortable positions, and I still had no idea what I was in for. I was going to pay for taking the experience for granted. I woke up to find many, many more people arriving at the Church. We all piled onto a charter bus and took the long drive to British Columbia. I'd always thought Seattle was much closer to Canada than it is. We arrived that evening, we ate, we became more and more familiar with eachother, we were assigned our jobs. I always liked the PITS crew.

The next morning, we set out on the three hour trip to be separated from... everything. I was thinking... when I get home, all of the videos on MTV hits will be different. Looking back on that, I'm disgusted with myself. On that small journey, the guys came together playing such a perfect game for the occasion. Meanwhile, our surroundings transformed entirely.

When we arrived, most were familiar, but I was on an alien planet. As we headed towards our quarters, we saw the first session WC. I remember thinking, they act like they've known eachother all their lives. We then went straight to work. As I carried freight, it finally hit me. This is gunna be hard. You're just some 15 year-old suburbian kid that's watched Work Crew after Work Crew break their backs and you never figured it out, but now you will. I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. In a sense, I had.

Soon, the other six PITS crew members and I learned what our days would consist of for the next 4 weeks. We worked our butts off in that hot, crowded kitchen. And in the process, we became close. We had a cheer that eventually grew into a production that we would perform for various people of consequence that happened to wander through our humble kitchen. On our short breaks, we played made-up games, enjoying every second of it. We scrubbed the floors every night, striving for the pristine white color that we sought to achieve. We got about an hour or two between meals, and that really made us make the most of the precious time we had. By the time we put away our size nine and ten mismatched orange gloves for the last time... we had worked about 210 hours.

Outside of work, I was failing miserably, I didn't allow myself to let loose, become comfortable, make friends. I blame my fear of loss. Even though I didn't understand the entire experience, I understood very well how it would end. I'd seen it countless times. The tears, the sadness. I regret my restraint. I do not intend to let it ever happen again. This was a time for me to become closer with these people than I'd ever been with anyone, and I was missing it. I had more quiet time than I'd ever had before, and fortunately, I took advantage of it. There's nothing like contemplating the trivialities of my petty little life while looking out at miles of ocean surrounded by miles of mountain. It's another slap in the face. But a welcome one.
Enjoying the perfect beauty without anyone to have to answer to or share it with except the Creator himself. I shiver when I look at the pictures. Once there's emotion attached, their power multiplies. We are all so small. Your problems are all so small. Your possessions are all so small. Your money. This is something we will never understand.

You know nothing.
You will never be satisfied without the Love of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. I Promise.

The last days, we lived to the fullest. On our last night, I got two hours of sleep... and I had one of the best experiences I have ever had in my life. Leaving that place was unreal. For all of us. It was our home. Who were these people moving in? Why were they in our beds? Unpacking? We walked away from that place, back to the real world. As happy as we might've been, not to be working, on our way to our own beds, our own friends, family. We were leaving a place where we'd had a sense of purpose stronger than ever, we knew that in ten hours, we'd be saying goodbye. I could see the Pain coming now. Just as I had all month. The Pain that had pushed me into remission, kept me from being all I could be. I realized my horrible mistake on the charter bus back to reality, with your head on my shoulder, I realized I had not finished what I started.

I intend to go back next year. And the next. And the next.

The morning after, we went to IHOP. Never in my life have I been so thankful to be served. The emotion... is something amazing that cannot be explained.

You will leave this place changed.

It seemed cheesy at first, but as I look at myself now, I am changed. I am better than I was. I have three more chances to further the transformation. How lucky can I get?

Trust me. Experience this, and you will understand.

                                                                                                -alex

humble yourself.