Temporary Vacation

It is my regret to inform you dear bloggers? Bloggees? Blog stalkers? that I will probably not be writing for a while. Because...well nevermind. Nor will I be on facebook very often. so I suppose if you wish to contact me, you'll be most successful by calling/texting me: 801-440-5485 (cell phone), or emailing me at: morganknapp14@yahoo.com 
Anyways, that's all I have to say for now. I'll attempt to write as often as I can, but we'll see how that goes.

Musicalities

I have this problem with creating music. Now that I'm thinking about it, I have no idea why I'm telling you this. Probably because blogging has become one of my last few outlets of expressing myself. Anyways. Music. I can't write it. I mean I can, but I have zero self confidence when it comes to writing music. Which is a little strange, cause I'm generally a pretty confident person. I can't sit down and write songs. I've probably written somewhere near 200 bass lines that could be turned into songs. only one has. The Girlfriend Song, and that was actually slowed down and modified from the original bass line. Even worse than that, I never feel like I can write lyrics. I mean loads of great songs have super simple lyrics, which makes me think that I can write lyrics. Nope. I can't do it. and to try and combine the music with lyrics...impossible! I never feel like I'm very good at playing Instruments either. People tell me I am, but maybe they're just being nice. Another strange thing though is if I perform music in front of audiences, I'm confident. Like when Dallas and I performed at Timp Lodge this year. No butterflies, no stage fright, no doubts, I can just get up there and do it. And I like to perform too. It's a bloody problem! cause I love music so much, and I would love touring, and being a musician...but the whole writing thing is a big issue. anyways, I didn't mean this to be a complaint session, just throwing things out there, getting them out of my head.

Had to Cry Today

    Crying. It's a beautiful thing. No one likes to be sad, or have bad things happen to them. I know I don't. But I think crying is an essential part of life. I've always been a crier. Movies, books, and music get me all the time. As well as life experiences. It reminds me that I'm human. Humbles me. And I feel like every time I cry, I learn something from it. Become more connected with my heart and soul. Like I said, I don't like to be sad, but crying is just nice. and you certainly don't have to be sad to cry either! Tears of joy are just as great if not better. After a good long cry, I always feel better too.

    One of my fondest childhood memories is of crying. When I was roughly around nine years old, my dad read Sage and I all of the Great Brain books. We loved listening to them every night. Once we finished reading all of the books in the series, we picked up another book by J.D. Fitzgerald titled: Papa Married a Mormon. It was basically an autobiography of Fitzgerald's childhood. I remember coming to the end of the book, reading the passage where he is talking about his dying father. My Dad and I just sat there, crying our eyes out, unable to read any further. It was one of the most amazing and beautiful moments of my life. I'll never forget it. In fact, It's getting me all teary eyed right now just thinking about it.

Fed up.

This ain't no way to live.

and I can't do it no more.

too many mind games

too many mess ups

too many hopeless ideas.

Stab the Heart.

sure it will hurt at first.

get a little blood on the floor.

but the way I see it: can't go down hill much further.

then ya build yourself a new one.

replace it with stone.

inject some of that Xylocaine for good measure.

then, then you'll be invincible.

no more falls

no more breaks

no more worries.

yep. the way I figure it, only one thing left to do:

Stab the Heart

The Change

continuing the story of my last post.

I had become my own worst enemy. In my state of craziness, I did many regret able things. Things I'm not one bit proud of. I was living in Hell. I was filled with a sickly feeling, and everytime I thought about the things that I did, I wanted to vomit. And yes yes, there are many things worse than what I did, but that's not the point. I'm better than that, and I knew it. My soul was beginning to turn black. I hated being me. 

Then I decided to change. I couldn't take it any more. I was at the end of my rope. Suicide seemed like the way to go. Just end it all. But through a fortunate spell of divine intervention, I opened my scriptures. And that's something I'd never really done before. I never read scriptures. I liked Seminary for some reason, but I hated church. Truth be told, I had never really care much for religion. But I started reading. And the moment I did, my happiness level skyrocketed. The evil was gone. Suddenly I was full of joy, calmness, I was content. And I began to read every day. Things were going so much better. Life was beautiful again. And It lasted for quite a while. Until I messed up again. And man do I regret it. I knew it was wrong. But I did it anyways. And I fell right back into the pit. Darkness. Life was terrible again. This time, a few good friends were there to save me. whether they know it or not. They seemed to say to me "Come with us, live the good life. you can do it! so come on". And I know that I will never ever be able to repay them for what they did. But they saved my life. I got back on the path again. Started reading scriptures, praying, going to church, seminary, all that good good stuff. Once again, Life became beautiful. I loved it. And there was Peace. Nothing seemed to affect me, or at least not as much. The mounds of homework weren't stressful. I just took my time, and tackled it. I was flying on a different cloud. The happiest I have ever been in my entire life. Because I started to do what was right, follow what I know to be true. Soon after, I received my Patriarchal blessing. and Wow. What a powerful experience that was. I told me about everything I could ever ever possibly want out of life, and how to get it. that all the stupid stuff I was worrying about, doesn't even matter. There are greater things out there! For the most part, the last few months of my life have been simply amazing. Things have been peaceful. I've been happy. But life is hard. sometimes you slip up a little. But by living the gospel, in these few hard times recently, all kinds of little miracles have been happening. I feel like I've learned so much. And there is still alot I hope to learn. 

In closing, I just want to say how grateful I am for Jesus Christ, The gospel, Scriptures, family, and the best friends anyone could ever have. Prayers are answered, and boy do I know it. The scriptures are true (if you don't believe me, pick up a copy of The Book of Mormon for yourself and give it a try. you won't be disappointed). And because of all that, my quality of life has increased. Nothing can stand in my way anymore. I know what I want, I know the way I want my life to be, and this is it. The life of true happiness.

Retiring the Tattered Jacket

Let me tell you a little tale. Or rather, a documentation of a period/ style of my life. Story Time with Morgan. Yes yes, believe it or not, everything I am going to write about is 100% true.

When did it all start? who knows. But I'm going to tell the the story of my wild years. round about seventh grade I suppose is where it all began. The mismatched shoes, the colorful clothes, the frantic ideas and strange situations. Back in the day, it all started as a joke. The costumes and such. My way of making fun of click's and the silly social rules that exist. I started to become famous for my Orange pants and mismatched shoes. The people of Centennial loved it (well some of them). One kid legitimately wrote a song about my pants and sang it everytime he saw me. Anyways, it was during those times that I began to mold myself, into the person who doesn't care what other people think of him. But high school, that's where it really went wild. I didn't stop at the pants. Oh no. I moved on to Dresses, skirts, strange clothes, tophats and so on. And I was crazy. Nothing could stop me. I was on a warpath. Always trying to top my last stunt. Saying crazy things, doing crazy stuff. And then there came the Pink Floyd era. I became addicted to the album The Wall. listened to it over and over and over. I would listen to it and dance around my room, chanting, howling. I was watching all kinds of crazy surrealist movies and such. At one point, I legitimately thought I had gone insane. That I would never be able to think straight again. These were wild times. Times when I lived by the phrase "anything goes". And I didn't care what happened to me. Then the impulses came. Bam! they'd hit me lick a brick. completely take over. And I'd end up doing wild stuff. like: leaving secret packages on a girl's doorstep at 3 a.m. (which is actually one I'm really glad I did), dumping gasoline on a $200 ipod and lighting it on fire, painting all over my shirt and face rather than the canvas. Other things like that. And I sure made some pretty stupid decisions during that time period. I was becoming a monster. For a while, a ton of people thought I was a homosexual (which i'm not. trust me, you'd know. I don't care too much for closets) because I'd go to dances and dance with guys, and act gay, just for the heck of it and to freak people out. But I was starting to Hunter S. Thompson myself. Meaning: I had built a reputation I couldn't live up to anymore. People expected me to wear orange every day. and when I didn't, they were disappointed. Costumes had to get crazier and crazier. you have no idea how hard it was to think up things for Halloween! I couldn't live without madness and chaos. And oh boy, you should have seen me when I was hyper...one time I started eating gravel (not too tasty, wouldn't recommend it). I was killing off what I guess you might call my "sweet side". 

Then I started to realize "wait a minute, this isn't who I am. This is what I have become". But I couldn't get out. And I just wanted people to see me for who I really was/am. Not this monster I had become. All kinds of rumors were going around about me. Which at first was kind of flattering. Then they got out of hand. In fact, just a few weeks ago I was asked about one. Apparently some people had been told, and actually believed, that I would capture my neighbors cats, brutally slice them up, and eat them. I kid you not, that is a legitimate rumor that was out there...don't know where that came from, but apparently people actually believed it. Lot's of people also assumed I was some crazy drug maniac. Fortunately I never really got into that scene, cause I probably would have been. Collected quite a wardrobe though. I was looking at it the other day and thought to myself "Geez, all I need to do is move to Vegas, I mean I already look like I could be a cocaine fiend". Though I have lost most my interest in dressing up now. But then, I threw in the jacket.

.....To Be Continued   

The End

I was at the top of my game.

The perfect hand.

I had seen the light.

And I knew how I was going to play my cards.

Then the tide changed.

I don’t know why.

Or how it happened.

But I fell.

Just when I was about to lay it down,

I lost it all.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

But I’d worked so hard.

Given it my all.

And somehow I paved the way for another.

Gave him all the keys.

Taught him all the tricks.

I thought it was the one.

I was in for the kill.

But in the end, I won nothing.

Nothing but a fit of jealous rage.

And a dark black hole to be sick in.

And I screamed out at the world.

Cursed it’s very name.

I tried to escape.

Tried to escape.

But I couldn’t.

For deep down, I still want to play the game.

But why?

There is nothing in it anymore.

No strawberry pancakes.

No subtle convictions.

No more adventures.

Nothing.

All I have left is a Fool’s hope

And a shiny dagger.