31 October 2010

Chasing Sunsets

Song of the Ride (and one of my all-time favorites): The Album Leaf - Twentytwofourteen

Despite an absurd lack of sleep, the drive tonight has been very thought-provoking and inspiring. I found it to be a great remedy for a weekend of shenanigans and late-night antics. The sky tonight was perfect--a word I try to avoid using at all costs. The sunset cast the cloudy horizon ablaze in a hue that escapes both an accurate description and the camera lens alike. In that handful of minutes of divine intervention, I bore witness to one of the most gorgeous celestial skylines I'd ever seen. I felt my heart and brain work in sync to convey a proper emotion, but none were to be found. And while it had only just started, my time was limited. In only a few short minutes, the moment had passed to a more standard dusk. It was a shared secret between me and the heavenly body above. Alone for me to make note of while my sleepy companions dreamt of such a view. The fiery sky burned its image into my eyes as I found myself distracted from the highway before me. Like a handful of other memories, it truly will be a moment to relish, consider, then reconsider. The blossomed flower that was the burning clouds above faded into a deep yellow as the sun dropped below the horizon. The silhouettes of water towers and trees dotted the distance as a river of head and taillights organically weaved down the highways. I raced the sun across the country on our respective quests westward. Inevitably, I lost, yet in many ways, I was the winner.

30 October 2010

Rock Star Living

I have spent the past week living life in the fast lane. Rock star mentality--drugs, sex and rock n roll. Ok not really. More like traveling across the country, drinking and not sleeping, seeing and doing what I want. It is amazing and I find myself for the first time experiencing addiction. I have addiction to the need to do things that I enjoy. What I do in these night hours is to live. Not the acts of a Trey who wants to help others selflessly. Not that I don't enjoy that. Sometimes I just want some "get my shit figured out" time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm about to brave the Baltimore streets. It looks as though I may get mugged. If so, bring it DC. Melting face.

Defining Moments

They rarely come when you expect them. Tonight at a party, I determined my future. Was it the adequate place for it? Most likely not. I just knew though, what I'd known all along. I hadn't scored as well as I needed. Not high enough to convince me to invest that sort of time and money, anyways. I've been teetering with the idea that it was all destined to happen this way. Part of a grand legacy I could pass down in writing or interview as an inspiration of not giving up when things don't "work out."

I suppose what it boils down to is a combination of two things: Not taking "no" for an answer and finding a way to success while not taking "no" for an answer. It is no longer the simple matter that I will just fight the system until I win, but rather to succeed while doing it. That is the essence of my aspired goal. I will find a way to write and do so well.

Short post only tonight,

28 October 2010

On The Road

Song of the Moment: Bankrupt on Selling

I'm patiently waiting my departure for the nation's capital. I've got good music, good company and all the best problems a 21-year old guy could have. There are very few things I could complain about in life right now. I've got a stack of good literature to read over the next few months, as well as a stack of good literature to write. I find myself drawing inspiration on those around me more and more. "Write what you know," and "Show, don't tell," is what Jeremiah Chamberlin instilled in my throughout my college writing classes. Original advice? Hardly, but nobody drilled it into my thick skull quite as well as JC.

Books on my list to read:
Women - Charles Bukowski
On The Road - Jack Kerouac
House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski
To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - Robert M. Pirsig
Sway - Ori Brafman and Rom Brafman
Blink - Malcolm Gladwell

I hope to take much away from these readings, to enhance both my writing and social standards. The two things I have an undying passion for: writing and people.

Alas, I must finish packing my belongings for my travels to DC. Expect several posts throughout the weekend as interesting things or inspirational occurrences transpire. There should be several places throughout the weekend in which I can draw an enlightenment or important junction in my life. I have a good feeling about this.


Ambient Morning

This morning was one of the strangest feelings I've experienced in some time. As I got ready for work, and wandered outside, all was still. There were no vehicles driving down the street, no leaves rustling on the ground, and most importantly, no people wandering the sidewalks. I was listening to Brian Eno and time seemed to suspend itself. It is in these moments that I begin to feel a little anxious, tensely wondering when somebody was going to come from around the corner to make the bus. Actually, I was wondering if the bus was going to come at all.

It is a frightening and empowering feeling with the brief contemplation that I may have been the last human being on the planet. I knew that in all likelihood, it was just me being paranoid, yet I couldn't shake the gut feeling that something was off about the day. What would I do should I find myself that last human being? It would only be a matter of days before electrical grids shut down. Of course, one always presumes they would go drive fast cars and swim in the pools of celebrity mansions, stealing luxury yachts and the such, but I was standing there in the middle of Hoover Street thinking more practically. What would I do for food, how long would the electricity grid stay online. How long would the Internet stay online? I began theorizing about how I would need to teach myself how to operate complex equipments to ensure survival. I must be a little bit insane.

Luckily, the bus made the eventual turn onto my street and arrived without a hitch. The driver was there, though the rest of the bus was empty until its second stop. I felt reassured to see other people get on the bus. My senses seemed more in tune, sharpened. Everybody who walked by me seemed to smell fantastic. I noticed the fine details of their preparing themselves for social environments and wondered, if I were the last human being, would I find it necessary to stay well kept. Shaving my facial hair, etc. They all seem like social normed, but are so ingrained into my self that I believe I'd find a way to stay presentable. If for no one else, than for my personal sanity and well-being. Dress sharp, play sharp.

I'm a Sucker

Maybe I'm superficial. I really do enjoy that which is beautiful. Mostly in the form of music, portraits, moments and words. Especially words. To any of you lady readers out there, it doesn't take more than a few well crafted, beautiful sentences to really get me up and going. Like I said, maybe I'm superficial. There is all of too much "ummm" and "like" in this world to not respect a person who can speak well. I can also really appreciate somebody who chooses their words carefully. The kind of person who will opt not to use two words when one will suffice. I'm not sure if that is because it leaves more time for me to run my mouth (which I've been known to do) or if it is simply because it is attractive for one to be so decisive.

On an unrelated note, the wind outside is haunting me while I write. It is moving fast enough to kind of project a screeching gale outside my window. I half expect a scene from a horror movie to ensue, as I sit here in my dim apartment, finishing these posts, some reading and wine. It is slightly disturbing though, a sort of unnatural sound that makes me a tense.

On yet another unrelated note, I think I shall spend the rest of my evening reading. At some point, the writing will only carry one so far. It becomes important to take in new stylistic approaches and unique phrases to advance and broaden one's writing. It is the same thing is training in that the voice, technique, etc of those I read should, theoretically, improve the style of my writing by allowing me to take bits and pieces of what works and compile it into my own literary voice. It is a technique that has carried me far in other aspects of my life, so we'll see if writing is yet another thing I may master over the next several years.


Our Story

Good Evening.

Song of the Moment: Mae - Giving It Away

I have found, much to my dismay and best efforts, that I'm alone in my apartment tonight. At first, I had my doubts about it. There were so many things I could do to waste time; but, it was just that--wasting time. I opted against the Xbox and didn't want to go back to sleep as I'd been resting the last three hours. That should put me on track for a bedtime of approximately 4am...

So what did I come up with? Well, tonight it is just me, a vintage bottle of Shiraz (Thank you!) and the blog. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, my spare time goes out to you...and you...and you. With that, I'll conclude this brief, fairly uncreative post with something more on the writing side, and build off it in my subsequent posts as the Shiraz trickles into my brain and blows open the whole creative process.

Our Story
An Original Song by Trey Campbell

I close my eyes and see the starry skies
From far Up North and several worlds ago
So tell me how we're star-crossed lovers
When skies are faded by the city glow.

Take my coat because its cold out, baby
As we speak words that can't express our thoughts
So I'll take your hand and try to show you
Try my best and then you can call the shots.

Honey, our story is a page-turner
So leave me dog-eared and never look back
Because I write us on and on and on
The winds whistle a long-forgotten song
About these feelings that had faded fast
Well now they're back and it's a damn tornado
Brace yourself 'cause these changes will not pass

And when you're gone, though you're never really gone
I'll stumble out into the streets and call you
Despite the distance, I can touch you right here
Just to let you know that I can feel it too
I say let us make the best memories
And nights that we can try our best to forget
With the assistance of finished bottles
Vivid moments that I won't surrender yet


I write this song so that you'll know it, baby
This song explains everything I could not say
Immortalized in verse for you to listen
Just pack your bags and tell me we can get away.

[Chorus x2]

Hey girl, maybe I do like the city glow
Let's make our own stars, wish on the afterglow.

27 October 2010

Upper Limits

I was so tired that I felt as if I were dreaming before my eyes finished closing. It was a melodic rest, albeit quick. If only time functioned as such in moments of anticipation. Today my mind feels foggy and I know that sleep will come quickly wherever I allow it. I know I'm playing a dangerous game, as my immune system gets more feeble with each restless night. In some ways, I feel like it is a test of my resilience. To see how much rebel I have in me and to know my own limitations. Mostly though, it's just stupidity. I waste a lot of time that I'll never have again. I value the importance of sleep, nearly now as much as I value being awake, the silent guardian who rests only after the world around him harmonizes in their respective dreamworlds.

Honestly though, I've treated my body poorly. Not showing it the respect it deserves, I filter it with poison, neglect my workout regime and deprive it of it's natural recharging processes. I can always attribute it to youth, but for how much longer? I make excuses that things will adjust when my life settles down, but will it ever really settle down? Will I allow it to ever really settle down? Live fast, die young. Love fast, love long? At least my mind remains sharp, despite the abuse. Until next time, friends.


Though I cannot discover an adequate reason why, I feel much more comfortable sleeping in places that are not my own bed. Right now, I find myself on the couch and perfectly comfortable to sleep. Yet, as soon as I get in my bed, I toss and turn and roll around. I have no reasonable explanation and I find it very interesting.

Only five more days until my LSAT scores arrive. It is odd how much importance we place on test results, numbers that dictate the "intelligence" of an individual. There are plenty of other ways one could be deemed smart. How they interact socially, for example. I know many people who could convince the devil to sell his soul, yet they don't have the capability to sit down and take tests. This bothers me very much. We allow this standardized set of numbers and scaling dictate who is good enough for a particular school, etc.

Perhaps it is just coincidence or my naivety, but it seems as though very few people who become superstars or game-changers fared well under the conventional norms of academia. A recurring pattern? Does success only typically become a viable option to those who work outside the box?Surely there is some sort of connection. I think in some way, it is a necessary precaution that the academic system and the societal regulations that come with it do their best not to promote stardom. That is, it comes across as a sort of brainwashing where they instill ideas in each student about their aptitude and what they'd be good at someday. Are they even qualified to say what another individual would be good at? Even today, there is so much we don't know about one another. It kind of makes me a little bit sad. Que sera, sera.

Ps I just woke up on my couch after dozing off the last half hour. This is exactly what I was talking about before!


26 October 2010

A Different World

Around the hour of 4 last night, I found myself wandering the diag (don't worry about it). It was a beautiful night with a warm breeze and I found myself comfortably soaking up the solitude. In a post-rave afterglow, things couldn't have been much better. I had time to think, and thinking I did. Surrounding me, leaves fell and swirled, crackling along the sidewalk and occasionally startling me that somebody was sneaking up on me. Of course, there was nobody there, just nature playing her tricks on me. My adrenaline was still spiked from the show earlier and I was still humming the tunes to myself. Those damn tunes. Always stuck in my head, day in and day out. It drives me through long nights on the road, or assists my drooping eyes when I have a daunting night of homework.

It was a phenomenal night. Some of my favorite company, my favorite sort of scene, and good memories. I felt great throughout the night, continuing my best day ever. Positivity follows positivity. I find myself convinced that good things happen to the optimistic and vice versa to the Debbie Downers of the world. It makes it difficult for those who don't see the glass half full, but I, fortunately, do not fall in that group. I have yet to think of a valid or rational reason why my theory seems to hold true, as there is no scientific way to prove such subjective things. I guess it all falls in the eye of the beholder. Regardless, the power of the music and the company of some amazing and beautiful people really sealed the night in my memory banks. Thank you.


25 October 2010

Binary Tasks

Either complete a task or don't. There isn't much of a middle ground. I'll illustrate with an example. This morning, I see the bus coming down the road from my upstairs apartment window. I was probably 98% ready to leave, yet I felt the rush. I grabbed my bag, sprinted down the spiral staircase, grabbed my coat and ran out the door. Mind you, the bus had already been at the stop for several seconds. I knew my time was almost expired, that the bus would soon pull away and I'd be left to walk or bike into work. I'm already running a little behind, so it seems that making the bus would only be logical. I jump a few flights of stairs, dart across traffic and in front of the anxious bus. Fortunately, the driver stops to avoid hitting me, which I exploit as my moment to enter. He doesn't look happy, but I'd rather it be him than my boss.

The moral of my story is that if you want to get something done, find a way to make it happen. If you succeed, then your fastidiousness paid off. If you fail, learn from your mistakes so you don't fail again, at least not in the same way. Persevere and don't compromise when it comes to yourself. I like to think of it as he (or she) who has a mentality of not allowing "no" to be an answer may have a more difficult journey there, but will find a much more rewarding destination in the end. Either that or you'll end up alone and unhappy. I guess that is the risk, one must decide, if they're willing to take.


I was just thinking about this: does the phrase, "when you fall off the horse, what do you do? You get back on the horse" refer to heroin, as the "horse" is a slang term for heroin?

Random thought, but anyhow, it has been another long night of studying. Just wanted to take a break before sleep to let me know I'm thinking about you, my unconfirmed readers. Feel free to utilize the comment system and let me know your opinions, etc. There is no better way to grow than to be criticized. Compliments are nice too, though.

As I sit here, all I hear around me is the buzzing of the fluorescent bulb. It is calming in an industrialized product sort of way. Unnatural, yet familiar, the noise of the light has been a staple of my life, permeating my education throughout school and to the far reaches of my social climate. Upon closer listening, I think about my breathing. It is calm and shielded by the buzz of the light, but far more beautiful. I mean this, of course, in the most non-arrogant of ways. Breathing in general though. To think that each inhale is a gift and each exhale helping complete the circle. Archetypes of life and what perpetuates it. It is rhythmic and organic. A complex system that few consider in common thought. I fear I often take such miracles for granted, so I fulfill my due diligence by writing of it here, immortalized for anyone who may stumble across it. It is our life force--our fuel; the renewable and sustainable energy that all should consider the biggest blessing of them all. May your resting breaths be long and slow, revitalizing you for the days to come. Each in itself is unique and by no means assured, so rest and be aware of how, despite the shit life throws at you, at least you're still breathing.

24 October 2010


Making my way from Charlevoix to Ann Arbor. I feel fresh and new. My mind is clear and my batteries recharged. It has been a productive and nice trip home so far. We drove through the most magnificent lightning storm, where the bolts danced across the sky, illuminating the fields I've driven by so many times before, but in a way I hadn't previously seen.

Trey Campbell

Let us go down, down, down
Into the night and then some
For we are traveling gypsies
With no place to call home-
Rather, our home is us
So we go down, down, down
Because seeing is believing
And I truly apologize, ma'am
For we have not opened our eyes
To the compass' freedom
And still, we go down, down, down
Until we find our way home.

23 October 2010

The Beautiful/Forbidden Fruit

Home again, home again. It's been several long months, yet in my almost immediate return I realized the problems shrouded in the shadowy corners of my small resort town. It is almost comical, our town takes the nickname "The Beautiful." While that in itself is not particularly humorous, it is completely and utterly ironic just how backwards a statement it makes.

Our town is like the class bitch. Everybody knows she is hot. Everybody wants a piece of her real estate. However, what she hides best is that she has a lot of problems and insecurities underneath that cosmetically sound, flawless face.

I guess, though I cannot attest to it, that many small towns function in such ways. Racial intolerance, crooked cops and powerful families controlling the politics in their favor. It has all the makings of a shitty novel, yet I aspire to write one exploiting (while changing the names to protect the innocent, of course!) the real roots of what keeps my town from being "The One"

It's an undertaking, and a risky one at that. I'll likely offend many people, but I'm going to chalk that up to the fact that people don't like when their skeletons get dug up. There are certainly focal points of the writing I'm going to do on the subject, a particular prosecuting attorney, some of the school board and related officials, etc.

Maybe I'm just being bitter. In fact, it is completely possible that none of you will ever read it. Not for a lack of my completing it, but rather because a lot of times I write to solve my own problems. It allows me to narrate objectively and, therefore, see my attacks and defenses in a more systematic and comprehensible manner--unclouded by emotions.

It reminds me of a phrase I've been running across over and over the last few days: "This is not for you." I've seen it on several blogs, posts, and even grafittid on the side of a building. That is, who am I writing for? I have the inspiration finally, but if not for you, the reader, and not for me, the author, then who? It is very likely that this blog is a conglomeration of my efforts to talk to you, help myself and maybe something further than that. It is healthy to write everyday.

So now, for putting up with my, what the Internet nerds call a WoT (Wall-of-Text), let me provide you with something creative for your reading pleasure.

Forbidden Fruit
By Trey Campbell

How do I end up in places like this?
Where the normal is not, that's where I am
And I'm tempted down into the abyss
Of temptation's touch, to which I condemn
My forbidden fruit, oh my secret gem
You bring me trouble, yet I still come near
Lured by the representational femme
While I walk closer, I surely don't fear
That in my heart of hearts I may hold you so dear.

Thoughts For a Random Saturday Morning

I write to you from the roads running north. With hopes of a rejuvenating and healthy weekend, I'm going to see my family for the first time since July. It should be nice, as always to catch up with them. My sister has a volleyball tournament today. She has grown up quite fast. Though I find it hard to believe I'll conclude my undergraduate experience this spring, it is even more surprising to know she will be in college this fall. I do worry about her transition into the university atmosphere, as it is quite jarring from the small town mentality. However, if she does half as well as I did my first semester, then she'll be alright. I don't doubt her knowledge in academia, but she has much to learn about the world.

The roads are beautiful today. The sun is fighting through the cloud cover, illuminating the leaves of trees partially, as though they're on stage, performing for those who passby. My two fellow carpoolers are from NYC and LA, respectively. They are in awe, as they come from much different worlds than that of Michigan. It elicits within a degree of pride, like my state is a hidden gem to these "city folk." It is therapeutic to make this drive; I'll swear by it. As the clouds take back reign over the faltering sun, drops of rain begin to fall. It looks as though we will get the full nature spectrum today, save maybe (and hopefully!) a snowfall. I have much else on my mind, but for a change it is nothing but good problems to have. Enjoy your Saturday.


22 October 2010

Perfect Moments/Some Fucked Up Shit

Precursor: Sometimes I find myself experiencing a simultaneous spectrum of emotion. "How," you might ask, "can you be happy and sad at the same time?" Well, read on and maybe you'll have a better understanding of how it is feasible.

Song of the moment: In the Dark (2010 Mix) - Tiesto ft. Christian Burns

Part I: Perfect Moments

There are few things in the world that rank better than a good conversation. Really digging down and learning another person. In some ways, it reminds me of how I think the explorers of the old world felt as they mapped out uncharted territory. Everybody has a unique story and those experiences and ancedotes really map out the essence of who an individual is. We are social cartographers, mapping out our perceptions through a varying degree of conversation. Everybody has something that really "gets them," and in my case, I'm a sucker for a good talk. The kind of talk that could endlessly go into the night, racing the stars across the sky and running off to beat the rising morning sun. I live for moments like those, perfect in exactly what they are, without needing anything else to provide me with a word-ecstasy. It is those memories, of conversations I don't want to end, of words exchanged and broadening my horizons that I will continue to remember and relish as other memories fade. Thanks to each and every one of you who have contributed to these feelings. Wherever I find myself at with you at this point, whether an old friend or new, a distant past or upcoming future, you are the people who have, do and will make my world turn.

Part II: Some Fucked Up Shit

There are few things in the world that rank lower than having no control in a situation. A friend of mine announced tonight that he was, in fact, diagnosed with lymphatic cancer and will be disenrolling from school to combat this plaguing tumor. Now this friend of mine, whether it be that he is scared out of his mind or else really does let it control his life, is handling the issue in an almost comical way. It is truly part of his persona, the man hired me to help out with his satire newspaper after all. Life's just one big joke for him, but deep down I know he isn't going to give up or give in that easy. It just strikes me when I hear of something like this, and how it really isn't fair. As I consider fairness, I hear my mom in my head saying, "Life isn't fair." I never really understood the implications of what she was saying while growing up. It was always so trivial. Whether my younger sister had the same privileges I did while growing up. In retrospect, I was fucking stupid. Or maybe just young and naive. Regardless, life really is not fair. People who have done nothing wrong in the world, or people who aren't old enough to have done something wrong in the world can unjustly be taken from us. Nobody deserves for it to happen, and it causes nothing but pain. Pain to those who host such a terrible parasite of human life, pain to the families and friends around them who cannot possibly surmount just how their lives would be affected by such a circumstance. I leave tonight with my thoughts and considerations to you, Bill and your family during these hard times. Kick that cancer's ass, and don't quit. Don't ever quit.

"The days are long, within them the archetypal good and evils the world may offer. Live each day as just that, for too much good or too much evil can never be healthy for the kindred human spirit."

21 October 2010


Today I took the time to motivate myself and outline my novella. I should be able to write the majority of it over Winter vacation. I'll work on an excerpt now for your exclusive reading pleasure:
"People don't change, Alex. You just have to accept that life can be shitty like that," she said without remorse.

Her tone of voice was cold, gone was the radiant feeling of their faltering friendship.

"It's not fair of you to judge me like that, though. People do grow up, they do figure their shit out. Just because you don't believe in happy endings doesn't mean you should give up on everybody," he cooly replied, knowing that her mind was processing every single word he chose.

The two friends-turned-lovers-turned-friends-turned-foes hashed it out long into the night, but the conversation was futile. Alex, resilient as he may've been, was slowly being picked apart by the almost too focused mind of Elsie. It reminded him of his sophomore year roommate who'd experimented with Adderall. While the drug worked wonders for some, it had adverse effects on his roomie, who wrote 19 long pages into the night that covered but a single page of his organic chemistry textbook. Elsie was the same way, just without the aid of the drug.

It pained Alex as he became aware of the only way Elsie would dictate the conversation. She didn't lose, she was never wrong, and she certainly was incapable of apologizing. She had her trump card on him, but in her fucked up way of processing things, never understood the fundamental definitions of how to forgive somebody, especially a person she'd once claimed to love indefinitely.

Or something like that. Of course that is raw, unedited text. You get the the idea, though, boy and girl are having problems. It's all I can really offer right now without giving away what would make the story unique from any other boring love story. Plenty of dysfunction, dialogue and learning by the protagonist, Alexander Argyros.

For Now,

Bukowski/Not Quite Bukowski

I will shortly start reading Bukowski. It should be very enlightening and useful to further my own writing agenda.

On an unrelated note, here is a poem I'll throw together in the next few minutes before I fall asleep on my keyboard:

By Trey Campbell

My eyes will grow heavy as I feign sleep
To the outside world, appearance I keep
And to those who get in, soon you will see
I'd rather spend my time in reverie
Than unconscious to the world and what's wrong
The dreams cannot last for all of that long
Before my eyes open 'gain in the morn
Where once was a rose, there now rests a thorn
A valid point that still knows how to hurt
My power rests in words, so I'll be curt
You'll have enough time to sleep when you die
Remember it's "see you" and ne'er goodbye.


It has been a day filled with events that many would chalk up to the idea of luck. Beginning with a nice fortune cookie that instructed to me: "Your new plans will yield you success," and continuing to the easiness of a particular midterm and concluding with the most epic, yet horrific in ways conclusion to a soccer game.

In terms of luck, I say to you: call it whatever you want.

Personally, I think that luck is closely correlated to outlook. Those who feel good about themselves, who really latch on to a good day and know it, are rewarded with better outcomes. People who are downers and complain a lot have a lot to complain about when "unlucky" things happen.

It is pretty fascinating when you think about it. The problem is that it can be highly addictive. That is, the positive people may feel withdraws when they don't get the constant high of rewarding moments, while the downers may feel envious of the optimists for their good fortune.

At the end of it all though, one doesn't need luck if they can make luck.


20 October 2010

The Not-So-Holy Trinity

What the hell? How is it that my night of potential productivity basically turned into a circus? In the end, nothing really got done and I'm not much better off than I was beforehand. Exam is tomorrow after lunch and my paper is due at 10. You know what, though? I'm not sure I really give a shit. For several reasons. Mostly, because I trust my writing enough to know the version of the paper I wrote is likely on caliber with my peers who worked for days on it. As for studying, I've paid astute attention in lecture and followed the notes well. If that is the case, one shouldn't need to study to such an extreme. Finally, I got some much-needed sleep out of tonight. I really am terrible to this body. At least I keep my mind sharp. Well, who am I kidding? I'm fairly abusive to both. Spirit? Perhaps. But 1 for 3 isn't all that good. Goodnight world, I'll be dreaming in mere minutes. Gotta love the advantages of pushing oneself to the very limits.

19 October 2010

Roll With The Punches

I've been contemplating the rather daunting decisions my future will soon hold. Do I go to law school? Where? How do I finance it? What will make me happy? Who will make me happy? I cannot answer any of them with absolute certainty, but I suppose those are sorts of questions many ponder. One trait I believe myself to possess that should carry me through whatever happens these next few weeks and onward is that I refuse to lose. Every single thing that happens to us in our lives makes us smarter and opens our eyes just a little bit wider. The important thing is not whether or not I get into law school; But rather, how I will gain control over my destiny once I find out my LSAT test scores.

The applicable nature of what I'm saying is not pertaining exclusively to potential law students, but rather anybody out there reading, wondering what fate may have in store for you. There is both serendipitous events and free-will. They work as one and are certainly not mutually exclusive. Decisions will be made outside your control, but once the reigns are handed over, it is how you make your next move that defines what kind of resilience you possess. Do you fall by the wayside and become another face in the crowd; a cog in the clock? Maybe you might like the sound and security of that. But that isn't how I operate. My drive for success will punch me through the barriers I encounter. Mark my words, you heard it hear first.

Never Quitting,

In a Rhythm

Hear I sit, my keystrokes and the television solely battling the silence that otherwise reigns over my 1 AM apartment. I've done my required writing for school, leaving me several minutes to just relax before finally calling it a night. I feel pretty good today. It's not as though my day consisted of any individually great events. On the contrary, I felt rather exhausted throughout the afternoon. Upon sitting down in the dining room (who are we kidding? It is just an extension of the kitchen or living room, depending how you look at it) with my computer in front of me, I felt relieved for once to have the blank white sheet in front of me. Any of you author's reading out there are staring, mouth slightly ajar wondering what the hell could be enticing about what every on-again off-again author fears most--the blank page.

It was just as daunting as it had been. I knew I had a task before me. 3-5 pages, double spaced. My professor had laid the ground rules. I, however, was the architect. So long as I adhered to the basic principles, I could do whatever would conclude with a finished piece. I began to realize what a great power us writer's have. The power to create worlds, to make or break hearts. We can elicit emotion, bring our reader to tears or have them furiously turning the page. It seems as though a lot of us forget about that along the way. Things become tedious, deadlines are imposed and it stops becoming writing. It becomes a job. I think that may be just what I fear the most about writing. Do I doubt that I could sit down and craft a novel, and recraft it and recraft it again until it was polished and brilliant? Most certainly not for even a second.

I was never a firm believer in the principle of you get what you put into something. In fact, my life has seemingly revolved around the concept of doing the bare minimum to maximize happiness. Pareto efficiency, the economist calls it. I enjoy living in such a way, as it allots me extra time for other things I want to do. I love writing, but a man has other hobbies.

So as I sat there, staring at the blank page, I took a yellow sheet of short-edge bound writing paper and began to create my schematic. Under normal conditions, I'd kick my ass for working in such a manner. I hated the nearly false nature of planning out what I was to write beforehand. After all, a cook does not boil up a strand of spaghetti to test out his timing and preparation. I perceived it differently today, though. It came across to me as a blueprint. A means of creating a scale-model of my final project. It helped.

I leave you, the reader, tonight with many new posts. As the creator of what you're currently reading, I implore you to consider that much of what you'll find posted here is stream-of-consciousness ramblings. With almost complete certainty, many proceeding posts will likely be formed in the same way. This post to you though, is to let you know that I finally feel back in the game. I detect my writing groove and the words are laying down on the page for me at times. It will be an up-and-down sort of ride, but I think the benefits outweigh the negatives. Thank you for sparing your time enough to care to read what I have to offer.

I'll make it up to you when I publish something of worth,

18 October 2010


I'm not actually sorry for all the recent activity. I'm just on a role with writing, in addition to transcribing various pieces I wrote in the last few weeks. Hope you enjoy them all, they weren't intended for you, but rather for me. You see, this blog is my attempt to locate my voice. A distinct style that screams my name. It is personal, intricate and a long, but worthwhile process. By the end of it all, I hope to have several followers, but more importantly, realize that when I write something, it has my name all over it, on each line and in between. I want my words painted with my ideals, my originality. It seems a daunting task and much to ask, but I would not undertake, nor waste the time if I believed it were in vain.

Thanks for the loyal following,
Trey Campbell

Unknown Subject

She was the kind of girl who could move me, not because she knew how, or even was aware, but because, despite the fights, the good days and bad, she always made me feel as though I had worth. In such an unknown world, in these uncertain times, those moments of reassured worth, they count. A lot. Nothing individually about her was striking, with her judging brown eyes, curly blond hair. Instead her beauty came from within, and shone so brightly that it manifested itself externally. She was beautiful, soaked all the way through, and despite those perpetually cool hands, she had a knack for warming up a room. And as those memories go back under lock & key, the warmth fades and the worth diminishes. Nobody yet has compared in those feelings, though perhaps I'm not seeking a replacement. For the one I let slip through the cracks, my errors banishing me to a crock-pot hell. Is the story over? Hardly.

Oct. 7, 2010


It may be absolutely ludicrous
That to which we associate power
The simple items of everyday life
A wrapped metal band signifying vows
That end up honored about half the time
It binds them as one or tears them apart.

And again with the color of greed - Green
Human lives extinguished over paper
Wars waged and debt accrued because of it
Printed numbers, a middleman to trade
A relic to a past, more simple life
In favor to the new societal norm.

To be continued...

Love Letter Unaddressed

My sweetest _________.
I find myself simply floored by the fire you have ignited within my ailing heart. I most honestly emphasize each carefully chosen word, as I deliberate how to best explain how you have mended that which life has thus far tested within my control. Whether you come to realize from these lines that I admire a long gaze into your expansive eyes or the warmth of touching your cool, delicate hands, those traits alone are not unique. What sets you apart, love, from all the rest is your collected voice, assured pose. More deeply-seeded, it is how you believe in you. That simple fact makes you beautiful, more than the silkiest of hair or fairest of skin. You know how to infect a room with your ubiquitous optimism, an undying hope for the best in men; that those around you can be disarmed with your smile, a resonating laughter which possesses the power that ancient kings would risk death for. In your strength, I aspire to fortify my own. An inspiring woman, I find myself thanking you for showing me the finer points of love and how to be the best man I possibly can.

Believe me yours forever sincerely,
October 12th, 2010

Chess Romance

Is it disgenuine to analyze every critical move in the beginning of a new relationship? A question I've been pondering much lately as I observe my friends come into and out of relationships. It seems that the "honeymoon phase" of the relationship, where nothing goes wrong, is not necessarily exclusive to the newfound happiness of the relationship, but can also be tied to the idea that we are not being our fully and comfortable selves. Do I think that is bad? No. Do I think we can help it? Not really. I do find it rather endearing though when couples can so readily let go of the little things - the problems that drive the "big" arguments later in a relationship. It put a funny visual in my head of a game of chess. Two forces waging the war of love on another, check mate asserting the dominance of the relationship, all the while methodically planning several steps ahead. Eventually, the niceties of war are let go and we show our hands. Why does that degradation occur? Why is it that after we feel comfortable, we drop the facade and get upset about such simple things as walking in a house with shoes on, or using a word that was never a problem before? It is a complex issue that I won't pretend to have an answer to. I wonder if a more honest "honeymoon phase" would lead to more successful permanent relations? Maybe it is in each of our failed relationships that we force ourselves to a more honest and up-front lifestyle. Maybe not. There are arguments for both cases. Either way, having taken a personal distance from relationships in my own life has been more than healthy. I would certainly advocate it, though advocating personal beliefs won't get me anywhere. An individual who isn't ready to make that commitment (or lack thereof) isn't going to feel comfortable or happy in that new element. I guess it is a circular problem, and one that will span far longer than I'll be alive. Maybe someday I will provide the answers, immortalized by word for the kids of tomorrow to live by. Though highly unlikely, it is thoughts like that which provoke me to follow my love of writing, the most honest game of chess I vow to play in life.


The confluences that bind us all,
A driving force of the human spirit.
And while some will leave the well untap'd
To embrace our fates makes us aware.
I'd rather you be a candlelight,
Than that of a fiery forest blaze,
At the expense of tempting passion,
In lieu for a most consistent flame.
As the structures of time wear me down
The residual brawn sharpens my wit
And focus towards settling, but not down.
Perhaps in. As my soul wanders with yours
Through misty battle and joyous time too
Now slowly let the sun set upon me,
And rise, my Northern Star, Venus or Moon
A lunar reflection of my essence.

Anchors Away

Well my Internet is down, so I'm stuck posting from my iPhone, meaning it'll probably be slightly on the shorter side tonight. One important point I'd like to raise is the concept of a constant. The reason our collective society finds themselves so against the idea of change is that it messes with the established order. In tampering, people are forced out of their element, adjusting and uncomfortable. It brings out the worst in people at times and because of man's tendency to fear the unknown, can be quite dangerous.

So how, you may ask, is this applicable? Well, I've been considering the fact that in the face of a changing world, it is important to locate your constants - your anchors, whatever you want to call it. For me, they are my close friends. They provide stability and insight when I want to make brash or unconsidered decisions.

As of recent, I've lost some of those constants. Various reasons have contributed to this loss, none of which I'll bother you with. The task at hand is to locate said constants. Some choose objects, or hobbies, as opposed to another being, arguing that conceptual constants won't let you down. I disagree on the basis that the risks of a conscious constant are outweighed by the positive benefit of another. Those constants will change as life goes on, and surely, there will be times when it seems as though you're without that anchor or support. I whole-heartedly believe that in that void of constant provides and opportunity for the most dramatic of personal growth and transformation into the next phase of self-existence. Just be sure to rediscover your constants for the sake of sanity and stability.

Apologies for lecturing,

17 October 2010

Autumn's Reign

As Autumn days shake leaves from trees,
Color fades, except at the very top
The setting sun illuminates their caps,
Like candles burning the summer's slow end.

Familiar Roads and New Faces

As I travel this road for the several hundredth time in life, I recognize all the stops along the way. Somehow, it always takes longer to make it back to Ann Arbor. No, I don't mean because of the hour time difference, but rather a sense of returning to normal. It isn't quite as enticing as a weekend in the city. Yet, I couldn't imagine traveling to any other destination.

It has certainly been a fantastic busride back. I met a terribly interesting girl by the name of Anna. I think what I fancy most about her is the way she contemplates what she says before she says it. She looks slightly upwards and it is as evident as day that her mind is processing. All the while, her eyes slightly sparkle, revealing what appears to be a quite optimistic outlook. It is both surprising and refreshing to meet an individual with such vigor and resolve, as our lengthy conversations indicate that she hasn't lived the easiest of lives. I feel a sort of admiration towards her, as well as a quickly-earned respect. I think I'll chance to say it has all the makings of a destined-to-be friendship. And for that, I'm excited. I'll leave on that positive note for now.

To Safe Travels,


If language is a barrier, music is the guys who tore down the Berlin Wall. Tonight I was fortunate enough to see some of the world's most talented live DJs. The fact that those songs are composed of nothing but originality, a few electronic devices and lots of time, is unique and pretty special. In a lot of ways, it isn't so different than an artist and a blank canvas, or a writer posting on his blog. Perhaps we should task them to fix global warming. Why? Because if there is one thing they are good at doing, it's creating atmosphere. I went with two girls tonight, both of whom were novices to the club scene. While neither of them walked away saying it was really their cup of tea, long conversations following determined that they were in a state of heightened consciousness known as euphoria. It's great to know that even to those who don't find themselves passionate about the music can still be controlled by the power of said created music. I wish it were that simple with writing. Sure, one can create and convey powerful ideas through writing, but I feel as though it stimulates a different part of the brain. It doesn't run as deep. There needs to be a fundamental way to affect an individual with words. Keep them wondering through the night when, or if, they'll feel normal again. It was a great show tonight. The kind of show that induces a natural high. The best kind of high. Goodnight to you all from the Windy City. Next should be my posts from the return journey.

Always Striving,

15 October 2010


I think that I'm discovering my disdain for headphones. As I ride along on this bus to Chicago, I've noticed the two distinct types of people. Those with headphones and those engaging others around them. It has become a sad state of affairs how caught up in our own world we are. Don't get me wrong, headphones do have a place in the world. For example, when you want to get work done or study or work out. Solo activities. Yet, in these social climates, out in public and whatnot, we barricade our ears and stop listening to the world around us. It kills half the fun of people watching. There are other ways to pass the time. Unfortunately, I'm being hypocritical - I'm writing to my phone instead of chatting my neighbor's ear off (Oh well, I justify, she has headphones in also!)

Maybe if we took some time to listen to what people were saying, there would be less problems in the world...but maybe not. I guess we can't really know. Until next time, I'm going to savor the eerie silence of this bus (mostly) full of distracted and self-centered people.


Night Drive

An original poetry piece to suit my mood on this long and dark busride:

1 car with 2 headlights,
For every 3 bumps and 4 flashes.
Over and over, as the miles increase
So does my wonder...
Who is the girl in front of me writing to?
With painstaking concentration
And near perfect penmenship?
And what is my neighbor dreaming of?
With a mouth hanging slightly agape
Surely of a better life
Than those in the Old Country Buffet we pass
Music guides my journey tonight
The bass and expansion plates harmonize
Hypnotizing my at-ease mind,
A passenger with blind faith
In him, our driver, a stranger
The kind of faith I entrust to few.
1 car, 2 taillights,
For every 3 minivans, a semi
As we cut our way through the night
Togwther for a lack of options.

Ramblings of a Disgruntled Office Worker

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I've now written and erased my last 5 articles. Most of them were me being emotional and bitching about the less fine points in life. Before you thank me for sparing you, let me tell you that there are some people who really piss me off in the world. I think that my lesson taken away for the day, though, is how I deal with those problems. Do I want to be an asshole and make other people miserable? Maybe. It wouldn't really advantage me in any way though, other than getting my jollies from my maniacal and deviant plots. There is a big difference between saying something and actually following through with it. Creative visualization, is a nice way that a therapist would put it. Think of something that would help you alleviate your anger. I've done lots of thinking today, and while I'm pissed off, I guess now I just have to let it go and salvage my day. I have a couple hours to pack for the Windy City, where I'll continue to update you throughout the weekend. I can even blog from my phone, apparently, which is pretty fucking sweet. Sometimes, it's good to get a change of scenery. Perhaps, Chicago will inspire me to write something from a different viewpoint. I'll promise to upload some poetry or something once I get there, or perhaps from the free Wi-Fi Megabus offers. Until next time, loyal followers (I don't know if anybody has even looked at this thing yet, but a boy can dream).

To Seeking Trouble,


Late for work again. A recurring theme for me this week, as I struggle internally to get myself on some sort of schedule. I hate the idea of it, though. Life is too organic to be tied to strict guidelines. I would most certainly vouch for the idea that the most genius men throughout history didn't conform. That isn't how change arises. Society has a tendency to hinder the creative spirit, and since I've come upon that realization, I find myself caught up in a world of questioning why people do what they do. How many of you grew up with childhood dreams, only to have parents, advisors, the people we put blind faith in, tell you that you need to pick something more financially viable. We have no reason to not believe them. To the youth, these role models are the smartest people in the world, even perceived to the young mind as without flaw. And as they grow older, they come to realize it is certainly not the case, that just like them, every person on this planet is still human. People still make mistakes. So, I guess I leave you with one question of my own: How do we know they're not making another mistake telling us to give up our dreams in lieu of a more "stable career" or something that is "normal"?

14 October 2010


In my eagerness to increase the readership, as well as to make it look less like the Salvation Army of blogs, I'm posting again, this time directly from Biophysics 120. Score. Lord knows why I decided to take this class, the material is far over my head. High school me would kick my own ass for forgetting this relatively simple information, but when your mind thinks in clauses and proper use of semi-colons, you tend to forget the nuances of DNA synthesis. C'est la vie.

I'm brainstorming ideas now for some publishable material. Currently, the two concepts that appeal most to me are an anthology of poetry, or else a collection of anonymous love letters. I wrote one earlier today, which I'll post online shortly. Not that I'm concerned about any of my faithful followers ripping me off, but don't even try it!

Until next time, which could either be 10 minutes into this lecture, or 10 days when I remember that I created this blog. Hopefully the former, as I'm slowly warming up to the idea of practicing writing any chance I can get.

Here Goes Nothing

Blogging. I always think about it, yet never seem to find the time for it. It reminds me of such tedious things as going to the gym or flossing teeth. Something that can be beneficial, but something that life will surely go on without. I can't even pretend that my 50 viewers a month are going to click enough advertisements for me to buy aforementioned floss. I guess it is for me then. A therapeutic way of conveying my feelings to the anonymous machine that is the Internet. Here's a toast to you, man who randomly found my blog and took the time to read this. "Hopefully my endeavors with this blog fair better than working out," says my untoned abdominals.

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