PURELY A MATTER OF RELEVANCE - I'M SO BAD WITH GOODBYES (A Open Letter To Any Woman I Have Interacted With)

Happy Monday, guerrillas!  I have left you the last two weeks, and for that I must apologize.  I spent some time house/dogsitting for friends, furthering my liver's training (some call it alcoholism, I try not to nitpick) and trying not to melt in this summer heat.

What I did accomplish during this time was a lot of thinking.  It's the one of the few things including your circulatory and respiratory systems we do involuntarily, even while sleeping.  The mind continues to wander even in your subconscious state, and over the last weeks, my brain has been writing a letter.

This is a "Dear John" letter to any and all it may concern.  I'm not saying goodbye to anyone person in particular, I am more saying goodbye to the feelings I have shared with a few.  This is me cleansing my soul of the weight of these feelings.  Over the past 10 years I have shared my mind, heart and sometimes bed with a few select people.  Some of these amazing people have been girlfriends, some have been flings.  Some might have been just a collection of amazing conversations or a collection of text, emails or other correspondence.  I don't wish to say farewell to any of you, but the mere thought of you, all of you, runs through my mind more than most would expect, and I can't let it go unaddressed for any longer.

I'm So Bad With Goodbyes

It's 3 AM Sunday evening.  Sitting on the edge of my bed, head sunk in between tired shoulders.  The scent of smoldering ash, the warm sensation of a burning cigarette diminishing in my fingertips.  The soft glow of a television screen, laugh tracks echoing throughout the room, the stacked laughter of the dead my only comfort.  The gentle hum of the air conditioner filling the space between the scripted lines and the giggling.  An allegory for my mind; as instincts of sleep and the impulses of insomnia turn my brain into a battlefield, the space between the synapses are consumed by you.

You are where my mind wonders in the dark.  The light shining beyond the veil of my apprehension.  You are where my mind drifts to in the calm sea of indifference.  The buoy balancing in the wake of my desires.  I am appalled by my own inconsistencies, but it speaks true to my ever expanding heart.  I can't get you off of my mind.  Any of you.

Its never one.  One could be managed.  One can be compartmentalized and tucked away deep in the recesses of my mind.  There are too many, so many beautiful people that have entered my life.  Too many angels that have left imprints that I can never ignore.  You all mean more to me than you would ever allow yourself to believe, and I cannot go a day without something as simple as a thought of you does not run through my mind.

It's 3 AM, and my mind wishes to remind me of every nick and scratch on the armor that my heart wears.  The girl I had a crush on in middle school.  My first girlfriend freshman year.  The girl way out of my league I urged up the courage to ask out senior year.  My prom date.  The girl from the bukkake film I starred in.

I remember them all, all of the time (especially the last one, that's an interesting memory).  I feel like that estranged friends and past loves or recent crushes think I could give a shit less and my mind wanders to the dozens of other people trying to occupy my time, but they wouldn't be more wrong.  I carry this sense of discontent that I cannot be more to more people.  This is not a farewell, but more me recognizing my feelings and vocalizing them in hopes of personal retribution.  You all mean so much to me;

• To the ex I dated, loved, lived with and tolerated, a day doesn't go by that I don't think of you.
• To the friend I had the luxury of benefiting from that aside initial apprehension, we both at some point wanted to grow into more before you decided you didn't feel the same way,  I think about you more than I wish.  
• To the rad girl too pretty and pure for this world that I could watch Star Wars with and could always make me smile, and now I must act like it I don't miss your skin, you cross my mind always.  
• The amazing friend I made over social media sites that lead to hours of late night phone conversations, I miss the sound of your voice.
• The beautiful girl from across the bridge that would hang out with me and let me awkwardly sit close to you and make fun of horror movies, I miss that time I kissed you.
• To the gypsy girl of West Philly and our date nights at the theaters, I miss your infectious smile.
• To the fling from New Hope, I miss the fun and wild times.
• The cute girl who orders that same drink when I worked the bar, your personality excited me, and I enjoyed the fun we had and miss the times since I haven't been working there as much.
• The high school friend that I always had a soft spot for, the times we spent together mean so much to me, even if I was an asshole that didn't call back, I think it about it all the time.
• The perfect one from out of state I wouldn't dare pursue, I crush on you hard, and think about it more than someone should
• My most recent ex even.  Listening to pop music now makes me think to times I sent DMs you never have nor ever will respond to.  "Hello from the other side, at least I know that I tried to tell you I'm sorry for breaking you heart."

Maybe it's more because my own heart is broken, maybe I'm an ego-maniacal vagabond with tendencies akin to a sociopath that does things of this nature in a wild guilt ridden sense of attempting to gain absolution.  Or maybe I just genuinely have an overflowing heart that inundates my world with emotions that I need to scoop out with a bucket to empty out the vessel known as my psyche before I drown in my own lament.

There are so many that I didn't list, and if any girl that is reading this has to stop and think if they fit the bill of who I am addressing, you most likely already do.  So many crushes I have on the beautiful specimens of the world.  Looking through your profile pictures and Instagram accounts.  The girl who messages me and the girl I send a message to, what does that smiley face mean?  Should I tell her I think she's pretty, should I ask her out for drinks, should I ask her what sounds she makes when she's really excited and tell her how badly I want to find out?  I'm an over thinker, I'm not sure.  My heart is on my sleeve, and I can hopelessly romanticize almost anything or any moment.

I cannot lie, some of you I harbor just the slightest bit of resentment for.  Girls who told me they loved me to two weeks later tell me they don't feel the same.  Girls who loved to hang out with me, or loved to have sex with me, but weren't okay with dating me.  You know who you are, and it sickens me that I am supposed to be the guy, the rough and tumble man in that situation.  Forced and expected to act that things like that don't bother him.  To save face in spite of his heart being stepped on.

But also the flip side of that coin, I have been the asshole that have had girls tell me they wanted to be more or could totally see themselves being in a relationship with and I stopped calling or texting back.  Or a time when I literally stopped answering my phone because I wasn't sure of the future of what we were, and as stated before, I'm so bad with goodbyes.  I am no saint in this story, I have been on both sides of this discussion; asshole guy and heartbroken loser.

Please don't confuse my words with juvenile and love struck sentiment, though.  I am an adult, and as much as I am shouting into the void, do not take these ambiguities as a VagueBook emotional farce.  I live my life, and go on everyday, I do not harp on nor let my feelings for love gone past hinder my life, nor does it create an overemotional mess that makes it impossible for me to function in relationship scenarios.  Oh, quite the contrary to be exact.  In spite of all of these feelings that pass through my mind, I have developed an understanding of my heart, and have created a way for me to enjoy the simplicity of life and love without losing who I am in the process by investing large portions of emotions into every interaction I make.  There are amazing and beautiful people everywhere, and those that I may talk too I wish nothing but happiness and contention for them all.

I want to be a friend and a person that can enjoy their time around, and frankly, yes, I would fuck your brains out, but if you're not interested, that's fantastic!  I love having friends and people to enjoy, it matters not if you want to have sex, but we're adults, if having sex is on the menu it's never something that I would turn away from..   I want to make out with almost all my friends, you beautiful fucking creatures. Those who cry about the friend zone because they feel they're owed something by giving out friendship (something that every fucking human being should give without expecting a return) are fucking children.  Shave your neck beard and man the fuck up, the friend zone doesn't exist, you're just pathetic.

I digress, this letter is me saying goodbye to the times we had, I wish that the times could continue.  In some senses they will, many of the girls mentioned previously are still good friends of mine, some don't speak to me and I can respect that.  Relationships are hard and the cloudy ambiguity of texting and all of the tone that is lost within it has made communication something of problem in today's society.  Huh, ironic how tools that help us communicate with the world at faster and faster rates also creates a schism when dealing personal communication.  Be bold, be honest, the worst people will say to you is no.  Obviously a pinch of charm, a dash a wit, and a sprinkling of rugged good looks never hurts (it works for me at least), but go out there and make connections.  Make new friends.  Fuck their brains out if that's their thing, or just share some good times over some drinks and karaoke, I don't know, whatever it is you kids enjoy these days.

To every girl I ever shared a long stare with, made laugh at a bad pun or shared an evening with.  To the ones whose hand I held, whose cheek I kissed and whose night I made, I miss you, and at 3 AM when the dust settles on the day and the dawn begins to bring anew, remember, you will be on mind.  I'm so bad with goodbyes, so I'll just say later days.

Reese Dunlap

Purely a Matter of Relevance - WHY ARYA STARK IS THE MOST INTENSE CHARACTER ON GAME OF THRONES

So here we are, a day late and a dollar short. Let's be real, anybody that knows me knows I'll be late to my own funeral. Since I do not confine myself with petty imaginary constructs such as time or their even stricter offspring, deadlines, lets jump directly into this weeks matter of relevance, and what could be more relevant than Game of Thrones!

Why Arya Stark is the Most Intense Character on Game of Thrones

Now if you saw my choice for #2 in last week's Top Tensday's Biggest Celebrity Crushes, you would already know how I feel about the babe-alicious-barely legal-brunette-Bristish-bombshell Masie Williams, but what always amazed me was her on point portrayal of my favorite character in the Song of Ice and Fire universe, Arya Stark.

Now please remember before you write your long winded hate mail about your favorite Game of Thrones character, this is MY irrelevant opinion.  Your opinion is just as irrelevant, so please bicker and banter with me in the comments, but don't lose your minds.

The first time we were introduced to Winterfell, which feels like decades ago at this time, we met young tomboy, Arya age 11, and saw her as a rambunctious little scamp, more likely to play with swords than dolls, and to fight and play than knit and gossip.  I took a liking to the character early on for her black sheepish role within the Stark clan.  Jon, the obvious outcast due to his bastard birth rite, had the strongest bond with her of all the kids, again reflecting her odd man out attitude.  He even gifted her a sword before leaving to join the Night's Watch.

I know a lot of you are thinking, "but Jon fought white walkers," and, "Dany can ride dragons," or even better, "Jaimie has to jerk of left handed," I know, I know, there are a lot of characters that have gone through a lot of changes, but Arya has seen hell and has become a; cold, calculated, cat chasing, water dancing, blind ninja, face shifting assassin in spite of it.

I understand that all of the ASOIAF characters have had their equal amounts of tragedy, but lets look at little 11 year old waifish tomboy Arya has had to deal with:

• Witnessed the death of her friend by the hands of the Hound
• Forced to exile her direwolf, Nymeria
• Witnessed the public execution of her father
• Faced indentured servitude and death of friends
• Bargains to kill, and she herself kills, multiple guards
• Kidnapped by the Brotherhood Without Banners, escapes
• Kidnapped by the Hound, escapes
• Travels the Narrow Sea
• Becomes accepted into a band of face shifting assassins
• Trains, fucks up tremendously
• IS STRICKEN BLIND
• Continues training, BLIND

Arya training to save Hell's Kitchen

***SPOILER ALERT***

For those who have not finished this season.... what is wrong with you?  No, seriously.  If you enjoy Game of Thrones and haven't watched this entire season, stop reading this and go watch it already.

But something they depicted on the show - albeit badass - I don't believe is truly appreciated.  After Arya's sight is returned, she eventually ends up failing to kill her mark and is hunted by her trainer, a deadly killer known only as the Waif.  Luckily she has ascended to Super Stark level 2 and not only kills her, but kills her in total darkness and skins her face and head.

Let me repeat that for those in the back who might not have heard me: SHE SKINS HER ENTIRE FUCKING HEAD.  Most likely in pitch black darkness as well!  She then sneaks into assassin HQ, the House of Black and White, undetected mind you, and mounts her scalped head on the wall.  Now it's not that just because they only show you the before and after results that I bring this scene back up, I'm not angry for any lack of gore. I just find it necessary to point out that this now 16 year old girl surgically removed the flesh from the entire head of another human being. That is some A1, unfuckwithable makings of a thoroughbred killing machine right there, and I'm not sure if the average viewer really took all of that in. As if that wasn't enough, she returns to Westeros to assassinate 3 men pivotal in the murder of her mother, brother and pregnant sister-in-law. Did I forget to mention she cooked 2 of said men and fed them to the last... their father. Yeah, I'm not fucking with this girl.

Sansa might've finally got one up on Ramsey, Dany might be able to ride her dragons and even Jon can come back from the dead and lead an army to victory, but none of them have developed from an 11 year old lady in training to a combo of Ed Gein, Daredevil and Darkman.  Arya is a force to be reckoned with and she is on a warpath with one thing on her mind, all men must die.  Stab 'em with the pointy end, baby girl, I salute you, and this was purely a matter of relevance.

Mr. Irrelevant

PURELY A MATTER OF RELEVANCE - MONDAY IS PURELY A MATTER OF RELATIVITY

The weekend has come to a close. You've enjoyed what little free time you had from the moment you escaped your 9-5 Friday afternoon, all the way through watching your favorite Sunday night TV programming. For the folks that work weekends, Saturday and Sunday are just another notch in your ongoing saga of mundane, and for that I apologize. Yet still I can imagine even you are affected by the banality of the dreaded Monday morning. You have the entire work week in front of you and the weight of it all seems to be an unbearable burden that you will not escape until the illusive Friday comes barreling around the corner. You've transformed your Tuesday, made it up and over the hump of Wednesday, threw back beers while Instagramming your throwbacks on Thirsty Thursday, and now, thank god; IT'S FRIDAY.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Sound familiar? I know you have all seen the meme boasting that your life is meant to be more than just paying bills and death. Which although it sounds like great advice, it's not necessarily true.

Let me explain.

If your hobbies include watching TV, playing video games, and mostly spending your time not leaving your home, that is the life you have crafted for yourself. If you have a job that you rely on to pay your bills, pay for your extracurricular activities, and have a little something left to save, you have designed a lifestyle that balances itself on you paying your bills and waiting for the icy grip of death to slip around your vital signs. This does not mean that your life cannot contain more, but please don't act surprised that your boredom has become just as much a part of your life as your daily grind is.

Life, reality, and existence in general is all based on perspective. Everything we do, everything we see, touch, smell and taste is all based upon our own personal perception. This takes us back to our point; Monday is purely a matter of relativity. Scientists worldwide have proven time and time again that the particles that make up all matter on this earth, react differently when perceived against when not perceived.  

Now to blow your brains clear out of your skull, imagine with me for a moment: If the whole of the world is simply based on whether or not it is perceived or documented, the microcosm that is your own existence is built upon the foundation of your own personal perception. You hold the keys to your own life. You are behind the wheel of the vehicle that is driving you from birth to death. It is your choice to perceive the signs and activity on the road as you see fit.

Don't let the social construct that Monday will be the drab beginning of your week, control who you are as a person.

Yes, Monday is the beginning of most of our work weeks. Yes, that thought alone is enough to bring some to tears. This is your choice. Not the choice of your god, your beliefs, your boss or your schedule. Like Olmec from Legends of the Hidden Temple says, the choice is yours and yours alone. If pleasant music can change the growth pattern of your plants, if positive thoughts directed on water cells can alter the shape of the ice it will become in it's physical form, you have the ability within you to change your depressing outlook to the beginning of the week into whatever your mind desires.

This is not an advice column, I do not have answers for life's mysteries and I certainly don't believe I am any smarter than any of my readers, but I do know I have an opinion on how you may be able to begin your week with a greater outlook than just having "another case of the Mondays.". Then again, this is only a matter of relevance.

Mr. Irrelevant