A Drunk Toast To The Best Kinds Of Plot Twists.

I’ve read that the best kind of love is one in which the soul is awakened. I am not in love, and I am unsure if it’s indeed my soul, but something endlessly divine has been awakened inside of me. It started when the best kind of friend (One in which you have to build a solid foundation of banter in order to avoid a considerable amount of maudlin conversations detailing how truly perfect they are in your eyes.) Confessed her feelings for me. Instantly I was 7 years old again, up way past my bedtime, and watching my first Sunrise. God has colored the entire sky perfectly, and I still couldn’t color inside the lines of a singular square I thought. I had never seen or appreciated such beauty before. I knew that I never wanted to miss another, and I vowed that I wouldn’t. I promised forever to something I didn’t know existed, wanted, and possibly even needed moments earlier.


You see, What I’m trying to say is that… this friend was everything Magical in what was my first Sunrise.

I became entranced with ideas, and possibilities that I didn’t know existed moments earlier. I saw forever in a world I had previously thought to be fleeting. I saw the everlasting beauty in everything that was her. I was effortlessly lost in the wave of newfound passion. I put a grim emphasis on the term wave because waves come and go in an ocean of forevers and foundations.

With that said, My 7 year old self,  was peacefully asleep, on time, and couldn’t even manage to capture the sunrise the very next morning.

As for my best kind of friend, maudlin conversations and thoughts of perfection possibilities quickly faded back to banter.

So here I stand with a shot filled with an ocean of Hennessy toasting to wishes of being her ocean of forevers.


SuperPower: Unlocked

-Inspired by the fact that I can’t believe the Clippers players still played after Donald Sterling’s comments.

We live in a generation where we riot on empty streets, and give “I have a dream” esque speeches on no higher platform than that of twitter. It’s scary how completely and utterly content we’ve come. Ironic is that complete credit for our current comforts, can be wholly attributed to our forefathers ability to be so actively discontent. I fear that a million man march will never happen again, and that one day I will tell my grandkids stories about how I was 1 of 1 million retweets that promised to help a great cause. God knows I hate those “RT to save a life” tweets that go around twitter, and I dislike myself for how frequently I’m online to catch them.

We live in a generation of once superheroes, who have truly forgotten how to use their powers. A generation where I’ve heard “One man can’t change the world”  whispered in the wind of the same great cities that have watched  such things happen. God remembers how much power he blessed us with, before technology and growth caused us to forget. We’ve grown so much, and have outgrown key elements of life that we were supposed maintain at the core of it all.

I fear that we live in a generation that will only allow itself to be furthered by technological advancements from here on out. We’ve given up the power in the music. We’ve given up the power in the voice. We’ve given up the power in the body. MLK walks around reincarnated in the body of a person with no social media, and consequently no following, nor voice, nor power. Malcolm X runs a “Indie” blog that this generation will never allow to be made mainstream.

How did this happen? When did it become “Indie” to have ideas that will push civilization forward, and mainstream to twerk on the standstill surface of intellectual destruction.

I fear I don’t know how to end this, I want to keep writing. I want to keep finding sentences that will click with you as an individual, but 3 people read my blog on a good day, and I’m just Shane Adams -1400 B.C. Bible Writer, 2014- Indie blogger,  writing words that should, but won’t change the world YET.


Fuck Now & Laters Candy

I’m questioning the exact moment that later becomes never. I’m wondering if there is even a “becomes”, or is later always some form of never. I’m struggling a balancing act between a line I feel should be thicker of determination and procrastination. “Why is it so thin in my life these days?” I tend to ask God in some form most 2014 nights. I’m able to fall asleep at night on the pure fact pillow that my self-admitted, miniscule, productivity is still  the most productivity that I see from those who surround me. The question “Who am I really surrounding myself with?” wakes me up midway through said sleep, and I continue my journey on a road that leads only to success, but I’m driving below the speed limit. I sometimes get out, and walk, do drugs, have meaningless pop culture talk, and watch movies with the hitchhikers and bystanders. I sometimes let the wrong people in the car with me. I never run out of gas, but I sometimes run out of energy to push down on the pedal. I’m scared that the promising fact that I’m on a road that only leads to bliss, has falsely comforted me into constantly saying “I’ll get there later.” I don’t want that later to become never. Behind all the metaphors what I am saying is that, I want to birth words that grow up to be sentences that the world needs, and I must fuck my word documents now, or never. 

My Theory On Life Today.

Growing up I always questioned everything. It wasn’t necessarily aloud, but in my head I’ve always found there to be a million questions being asked simultaneously. I’ve also always found that, contrary to logic, whatever that is, that there’s one answer to every question that I’ve ever asked, or has ever been asked in general. The answer is that it’s whatever I, or the individual wants it to be. It’s all popular opinion.

Having this idea as a power-hungry kid, I always hated the long lasting power of  the person who first decided the sky was blue. I never understood the power we as a species gave certain “Facts” that I knew was purely an opinion of another human like myself, that overtime grew to be a fact. I wish I could say I don’t care if I’m viewed as crazy, but I do, so allow me to elaborate. I do believe the sky is blue, but what I’m saying is that long ago there was an individual like you and I who decided the names of colors. With that said, If I want to say blue is now green, I  believe it’s 100 % acceptable. Blue is whatever I want it to be, just like it was for that individual many years before me.

This idea has also lead me to question all religious text, not God, but religious text. I never understand how people could lead a whole lifestyle scripted for them by another Individual. We’re all patrons at a restaurant, eating the same thing, and trying to find out the chef’s secret recipe. However we will never know, and in a world of never knowing the answers are endless, and completely subjective. I’ve always joked that I was going to write my own religious text; I’m not sure If I ever will, but  explaining my idea of life seems like a good starting point.

I think that life  was once a large landmass, that overtime has become an extremely thin island surrounded by an ocean of success and failure. Life’s island isn’t necessarily beautiful, but it’s beauty is unmatched. I find it to be unmatched because on this island is the only time we are who we truly are.

The phrase “You are who you are when no one looking.” is a top ten sentence of all time in my opinion. It holds extreme truth, but It’s rare that no one is looking. Even if we are alone, we judge ourselves for who we really are, and we reject it. However, when on life’s island no one is looking, not even ourselves, and the beauty of the true self, good or bad, is peerless.


In the past, I believe that finding ourselves on life’s island wasn’t remotely as rare as it is today, In fact it wasn’t an Island at all, and we  existed solely as our true selves. Today, most of us only spend 2-3 minutes in total on Life’s island in a lifetime if were lucky. Life has come to be defined by popular opinion. The kid from compton rejects  being a teacher. the closeted athlete rejects coming out.

Life has equally come to be defined as the sum of our successes, and failures, so we’re constantly losing ourselves in waves of the two.

The mission is finding success, it’s no longer finding ourselves. I am not totally against this, because I understand we must constantly adapt to grow. However, we must understand that there’s but a thin island, or line as they say, between success and failure. We must adapt by not solely seeking to find some form of success, but still our true selves as well. Because If we seek to find ourselves as well as success, we will never drift too far away from both in the waves of failure.


Find yourself, and success is only a step away.

My theory on life today.


Dreams Of Dreaming Next To You. [I]

I’m almost awake.

I wonder if I wake you will you stay?

But wondering gets me no where!

And for right now love, you’re not going no where.

But I know that i’m almost awake.

Oh baby can’t we just fly away?

I’d fly with you to another world.

Where we can sleep forever girl.

But God knows I’m almost awake.

I can feel you fading away.

won’t you stay… baby won’t you stay..

But I fear now I’ve Awaked from a dream of dreaming next to you.

I’m damned to lie awake.. wishing I dreaming next to you.

Some Text Should Never Send

Some text should never send.

Love is but only a story, and some stories shouldn’t end.

But, when they do won’t you wonder when it all went bad?

Won’t you reread all those words, and wonder when it all went mad?

Some text shouldn’t send.

Love is but only a story, and some stories should never begin.

But, when they do, won’t you view the world in a new light?

Won’t the bliss consume you with each word that you type?

But Those texts always send

And those stories always begin

And those stories always end

The only hope is in the fact that all things can be written again.



Serendipitous Stories. Vol.1


There were once 5,430,829 girls born in the United States in 1992.This story however, is only about one of them. In fact this story is about one, specific girl of the five million born in 1992, who met a specific boy in December of 2012.


The girl was twenty, exceptionally gifted, while also being conventionally beautiful, and on her way to a college degree a year and a half early.  She loved long walks in the park, but often made them on her own. Her life was filled with so much promise, but ironically so empty, and so absent of love . . .

The boy was nineteen, boyishly handsome, and secretly smart. However, the secret was extremely well kept, being that he had nothing to show for it, but a high school G.E.D. and a lengthy rap sheet. He had a pending court case, and the odds were not in his favor. However he had loved every year of the nineteen he lived, and was not only content, but also somewhere deep down . . . He was still happy.


So, maybe on that cool, December night, the girl lays awake in her dorm room studying. Until she gets to a point where her mind isn’t taking in the words on the book in front of her, but drifting to memories she’d like nothing more than to forget. Just maybe, she decides it’s best to close the book, throw a heavy sweater on, and let the breeze act as Alzheimer’s, if only for an hour, from a campus bench.



Maybe the boy lays awake in bed counting down the days until his impending doomsday. He walks down to a kitchen barstool, and stares at the bare refrigerator door. He tries to remember when he stopped getting A’s to decorate it, and when his mom had chalked his genius to a phase of the past, and removed the one’s he had gotten altogether. He can’t. He cries. Just maybe with sore eyes and a heavy heart, he decides to take a drive to the local campus to see what he truly could have been.  Perhaps he stands on the campus’s pitcher’s mound. He throws an imaginary curve ball.


“Strike one!” He yells


He throws again.


“Strike two!”


And again.


“Strike three, and you’re out!” He jumps up and down, excited with his imaginary victory. His smile touches everything but his eyes.

He wanders around for about an hour more, continuing in his reenactment of all the things he could, and should have been. Finally his reenactment leads him to the campus bench. To her.


“Hey.” He says.


“Good God!” She’s startled.


“I didn’t mean to scare you. I meant . . . I mean you no harm. I swear.” He offers.


“It’s fine, I just didn’t hear you approach. I was just leaving anyway. I have lots of um studying and reading to do.” She says with regained composure.


She gets up to leave, but something tells the boy to grab her hand, perhaps maybe the same something that led the boy to campus.


“Please, don’t go on my account. We don’t even have to talk, it’d just be nice sitting on a bench next to a beautiful stranger sharing nothing, but the silence and the breeze.” He says to her. “I imagine I would have done that a lot.” He whispers to himself.


The girl looks down at his hand holding hers, she’s in shock. She wants to scream. She wants pull away, and head back to her dorm. She wants to not trust the boy, but something in her won’t allow it, perhaps the same something that led her to the campus bench.


“Okay.” She says, and sit’s back down.


The silence lasted all but thirty seconds.


“You’re most beautiful when no one’s looking.” The boy speaks into the wind.


“Excuse me?” She fire’s back.


He smiles. “My mom used to always say that a woman is most beautiful when she’s sure no one’s looking, and that it was a crying shame at that.” He smiles at the memory. “And just now when I was walking up it amazed me how effortlessly your hair was blowing in the wind, and how perfectly loose your sweater fit you. And now as I sit some five inches away from you, I can see how naturally beautiful you are. And no offence, but you were probably sure no one else would be out here tonight.”


She flashes an awkward smile.


“It’s a compliment I swear.”  He laughs.


“Well thank you. You’re sweet.”  She genuinely smiles.


That moment of sincerity was all the boy needed, and the moment of sweetness was all she needed. They began probing each other’s deepest thoughts for hours. She told him things she’d only tell paper like “I’ve never kissed someone who wasn’t drunk, and I think that means something. I just don’t know what.” and he told her things he’d only tell god like “I think I was meant to have some affect on people’s lives, but now I fear it’s to late. That I’ve missed all the buses that have come my way, heading for my destiny.” 


The sun begins to ascend in the horizon.


“Absolutely beautiful.” The boy says.


“Isn’t it, I’ve always loved sun rise.” She responds, her eyes fixed on the horizon.


“That’s not what I meant.”  He commands.


She turns to face him, he’s still staring off into the horizon.


He continues. “This night was absolutely beautiful, you are absolutely beautiful. To me, this sun rise is only a painful reminder that it’s coming to an end.”


She grabs his hand, and he turns to face her. She smiles. “Amazing, how two people can stare at the same thing, yet feel two completely different things.”


“Indeed.” He smiles back.


“Do you ever—“ She’s cut off.


He’s kissed her.  She kisses back.


“It does mean something.” He says when they break apart. She’s a mixture of smiles, and different shades of red.  “No one deserves to not know what it is like to be truly wanted. To be truly loved . . . touched . . . kissed.  Let my lips wash away the stain of a drunken uncle at every family dinner, or the quarterback in the bathroom of your first high school party, and the second basemen in the basement of you’re first college party. You’ve deserved better. You’ll always deserve better than any one this world has to offer you.”


She begins to cry.


“There’s no tang of alcohol, no stench of regret. No ironic feeling that I somehow was taking advantage of them” She says as she cries harder.


He comforts her for a while.


“I need to tell you something.” She finally announces through now soft sobs.


“What is it?”


“You were wrong. It’s not to late. You’ve caught your bus. You’ve changed my life forever here on this bench. The world may not know, nor the thousands of people who will sit on this bench later on today, but I will. I hope that means something to you. You’re serendipity at it’s finest.”


“It means everything.” The boy admits


They share sympathetic smiles, nods, and kisses. That’s all they exchange. No numbers, no emails, no social media information. They take with them something much more infinite, and meaningful.


They go their separate ways.


“Goodbye old life.” They both whisper into the wind.




Speed Bumps

Last night I lay in a beautiful girl’s bed, whom by some mistake made by the universe, I have been blessed enough to call mine for some time now.  However that’s besides the point, and simply my mind wandering to the one I love. The true point is that  I lay in her bed last night a frustrated dreamer. I lay in her bed, and gave way to human nature. Being that I was so caught up in thoughts of a better future, that I was not enjoying the very good, and fortunate present. We all give way to this part of nature at some point in our lives, and that is completely fine, so long as we don’t lose ourselves to it.  Because losing ourselves to anything, love included, is the greatest crime one can commit on oneself. Staying on subject,  as I lay, I began truly thinking. In a conclusion of thoughts, or more so a peak, being that i never stop truly thinking,  I decided that life was a neighborhood. A very nice in some parts, bad in others, long neighborhood, in which we all have our respective houses. Even if we don’t know which one yet, we all still have our respective house. This is important, or maybe it isn’t, but in my mind this whole thought is important, and needs to be put in words, and in turn read. We also have our own respective speed bumps in said neighborhood of life, and for me college is that, well those speed bumps. You see I know where I want to go in this neighborhood, and in truth it may be a long ways into the neighborhood, and I may be met with the neighbors of “Job I don’t really want.” and “Rejection.” etc . . . but I am ready to begin that journey nonetheless. That is without the constant, one after the other speed bumps that college is for me. For some people speed bumps are meant to keep you safe,  other’s around you safe, or let you know you’re going a little or alot to fast.  For others, including me all speed bumps do is slow you down, from getting to a destination that you know is extremely plausible for you to arrive at had the speed bump not been there at all.  I realize that I could be onto something, or plainly another college student who clearly has no idea about the real world. This remains to be seen, and I won’t make any rash decisions. I’ll also admit that  during my giving way to Human nature all I could think about was how the speed bump of college was simply slowing me down, but as I begin to find myself again, I can say  that the speed bump could also be keeping me safe. This remains to be seen as well, but only time will tell. “But only time will tell.” This can honestly be the answer to any question, but that’s a discussion for another time. Getting back on subject for one last time,  I wholeheartedly  thought this needed to be read, I hope after doing so, you share my sentiments. I also hope that we all make it to our respective houses in the “Good” part of the neighborhood.



An Open Love Letter

Dear S.P.N.

I’ve found in you & with you something that I had once thought to be lost into the deepest depths of forever. You have effortlessly, and unknowingly given me something that I would lie to myself and others & proclaim that i’ve already had. What I am trying to say in this open letter S.P.N. Is that I’ve managed to find myself… along the hours of getting lost in your conversation and kisses. I’ve written to you before, but not like this. I havent given a piece the time you without a doubt deserve. Being completely honest, I admit  that I havent given any piece the time of day let alone the time it deserves as of late. You see, your love has managed to fill a void that writing once filled for me, but thankfully it has also over time inspired me to do the impossible and attempt to put the butterflies in my stomach, the romantic melody in my head, and love in my heart on paper. God knows we argue more than we should, especially when I put into perspective that though i’ve said it in other relationships.. I havent felt love like this in a long time. With that said my question to you & I is why argue when we know the end result will always be you in my arms? and If my rhetorical question doesn’t make it clear sweetheart, allow me to blatantly tell you That I am not going anywhere.  If my love letter, and my actions are still the wee bit hazy allow me to blatantly tell you That I find you to be an amazing friend, an even better girlfriend, and a beautiful person inside & out. You have showed me how to be crazy again, some bad crazy, some good crazy. Either way I thank you for showing me Love, True true Love.. once again.