Poetry in motion

 It's been a while since I posted,  and my prior posts are too angry.  That was probably when I was going through my identity crises,  which I still am going through of course.  Conclusion:  Science explodes,  Philosophy recedes.  You truly appreciate a deep person when you see their coral reefs after emerging from their abyssal planes,  does darkness have more depth than light?  Some of what frightens me also makes me curious in contradiction.  

The history of eternity to me is a lonely hall of frozen relics buried in permafrost traditions, the contemplation of it terrifies me to stupefaction. I think epiphanies vary by which ones you decide are worth leaving from the contemplation of eternity for. 

Here is a more poetic section of the 250 page word document on my computer. 

 We live within a moist aquamarine pearl saturated in life amidst beryl seas of dark quintessence, an oasis in the cold black and blue, where city lights mimic effervescing stars,  and flickering wonder in the eyes of protosimian lovers. The prime entheologian bathes in the beauty of such a precious microcosm, like the sacred pool of spheres in a cosmic kingdom, rippling with lightsource,  visceral in experience. But  hear us now! the cries of the unheard below, fleeting memories facing time and space. The songs inscribed into the Paleolithic fountain, golden hieroglyphs spill from her palms curling in efflorescent essence. Yet woe for the angst of space and her anticipating multitude, so far within as so few without. The center is among us, passing through  and stopping by. The heart in her chest is like the sieve of our existence.  How I long to be woven into those sinews of experience, but I relinquish at the sight,  in fear of the magnitude. To live of love and die for meaning,  beseeching my purpose yet I'm whisked away by passion on tidal auroras. What does human mean? To be down to earth yet be so divine? Who invented divine says the pink sacred vine? I wish to sing for all the unheard voices if they should utter but a sound. 

Repressed anger soon turns to maniacal laughter.

Sometimes there are no screams loud enough to match the ones inside my head.

Kold

The Cryptic passage that shows you bliss,  the trip of trips you could not miss.
 the body disappears in an electric sea
Every thought you thought you had or ego held
Is turned on its head the preconceptions bent and shaped
It is comforting and silently killing pains
The cold white crystals cut nasal membranes
The crackling of freezing air and rattling bones
The dark passage,  the dying walk of the Shaman
I have caught glimpses of the great beyond
buried beneath the frozen wasteland
but it has etched death into my face

I have been given a glimpse through the eye of God
but a chilling gaze into the eye of the devil
The unforeseen orchestra behind cold moonlit sheets
Encoding the Rhythm of my last breathes
Stolen time is weaved into the present
where a person could walk a labyrinth curled up inside a bed
where it seems eons have passed flying in the sun
When asleep in the dark
What does it cost to overcome a material experience?
A material existence,  and Everything else. . . . . . . .

This paragraphs name is Oocanopterus

I love that we have names for every little thing in Science.  When you think about it, all the tangible things we have are just different arrangements governed by their oscillations and interactions.  But regardless of these things we have names for each size and identifying shape of each and every thing that arises from these interactions. A grain of sand is a grain of sand but many grains of sand is a beach,  how many grains does it take to make a beach?   The key here is "identifying"  We give these collected objects and scenes around us an identity that we can sometimes agree on.  Yet as human beings we seem to identify with everything but ourselves,  because we are the "identifiers"  The Identifier shouldn't identify  himself.  This is where the desire for a god comes in,   we want to be identified by something larger that can explain to us who we are better than we feebly try to do ourselves.  This also gives us a purpose in a way. 

Epilogue to the beginning

(^Latter edit:  warning,  this is drunk speak.) I am plagued with a big question tonight,   or maybe I lied. . . . .  Two big questions tonight.  One of them is as follows:  what summarizes having lived as a middle class citizen in Colorado?  As I have always said before a good question is answered with more questions and in light of that one question that springs to mind is this:  Why would that be a big question?  All that summarizes middle class in America is over priviledged,  overfed,  white trash with a little more value to make us white knick knacks,  the kind you don't throw away but keep in a closet as a dust collecting agent,  these kind of things summarize this existence and you cannot blame anybody for trying to get away from all that.  I am one of many who feels that a plastic society is not the kind we should be placing over our heads,  and don't worry more loosely connected analogies will be abundant in my writing.  But Gah! I want to lose this whiny voice for a little bit. (I realize using onomatopoeia such as "Gah" doesn't help,  and I also realize that neither does pointing out that they are an onomatopoeia does either. And believe me I used spell check on that word.) 

 When did it become such a phenomenon that me saying I want to get out of this place has become a foreign concept to the people around me?  My first guesses are that it happened when all the dreamers such as I left,  and all the realists stayed put.  How silly to call them realists when they limit themselves with realism to the point of where they believe their physical body isn't capable of physical outings because it never has been,  it takes a moronic drive to athletically push oneself,  this is one of life's easiest lessons to learn.  It cannot be done is all I hear.  It all cannot be done,  everything I want cannot be done.  I'm tired of being everyone's pet insane artist,  I want to make them realize that what I do has a lot of weight.  I would rather have a giant impact or none at all and this is a very vital period of my life to decide which one to be.  It seems I avoid the daylight to spill myself out in these ungodly hours because I am afraid to look at myself for who I am,  a naked man too afraid to admit he is the entertainer of the mob.  What is my purpose?  To show people the trees when they are looking for the forest.  Goodnight and goodluck readers not-abroad. Btw this piece was done on a computer for all the assholes that have to know. ^

everything happens for a reason. (

Pictures of the Rain forest make me cry.

Blank

If I could give any advice to a child it would be, “don't let life dry your tears before they leave your eyes.” 

If there was anyone that wanted to save me from becoming lost they have to do it now,  if there was anyone that thought they could change a life I am a blank pallet,  change me how you will but only if you do it now.

If the alphabet were in a different order I think there would be less A's in all our words.  The path life is a very fixed one,  we are fixated in a groove that we made from walking over the same ground over and over.

My hardest trial

The drama of Humanity is a giant satire and I stand laughing off stage in the shadows,  but sometimes when I get on stage I forget I am acting and the tears come out in light of the charade I must lead.  I must go on with my life,  we are the people that make the world worth living in.  My aspirations started as the man who would change the world,  latter the man who would change history,  and now my aspirations are ever higher.  I want to be the first man who has become truly content,  I want to be able to approach the gates of heaven and ask them to let someone take my place because I have experienced all the fulfillment and joy I could ever need. Of course the great irony is that I must be able to make at least one other person feel the same way or else I cannot reach that point. 
Even at the eve of death I never will be disappointed that I was born a human being!

methods not up for consideration.

I can't help but contemplate the question that: if a feeling in a real life situation is mimicked in an unreal environment such as a dream, is it equivalent to experiencing that identical feeling in reality?  My inevitable conclusion I have reached is that real experiences give the illusion of permanence and that idea of permanence fuels this ambition to achieve real goals.  It is not so much that we want to feel the equivalent feeling that we are the greatest philosopher in the world for example but it's that we want to wake up the next day and know it was true and will be true even after we die.  This illusion could be achieved in a month,  as I estimate it off the top of my head.  One whole month of waking up to being the greatest thinker on the planet would give the illusion of such stable contentment,  I believe I wouldn't be able to wake up one day and find it to be a lie.

 Even if one could achieve this experience of greatness for that long by random process,  the confidence they would have running out in the final days could propel them into the world of actuality.  This is the paradox of being raised up until the point we are at believing we are average,  it is very hard to break out of this trend.  That is why the best of us that triumph under such adversity are held in such high esteem,  they abscess from this mode of conditioning that makes them believe they are average,  somehow.  The reasons why this is vary between situations,  and it could even be argued that the person in question is conditioned to believe they are phenomenal in spite of being average.  Good parental support in its essence.  They could also be just dilusional enough to not accept any other alternatives other than greatness.  I have a growing fear that this is me.  I look around at what the world has to offer and somehow my vanity rejects it saying I can create greater things in my head,  and even faster.  This is true until my desires pervert all that could be into a frame of mind built by physical means.  I can create a universe and feel empty and sad,  destructive and mad,  but most of all desperate and lonely.

If the greatest feeling of being human is to be loved and to love then the worst is to be unloved and alone.  But this is a big IF. But then again. . . . . .  how many living things on this earth are completely alone?  Even in death we have life crawling under our skin,  and every time we see insects this feeling takes over us sending shivers down our spines.  Creeping us out .

My greatest conflict: Introversion or Extroversion,
My best alternative:  base my course of action on reactionary procedures to interior and exterior conflicts. 
My method for creating alternatives:  changing what the conflict represents,  thus turning a blind eye.

Some things just have to be taken head on to have any ground in the plane of truth.  The edges must be clearly defined or else the plane becomes entangled.

My ability to please

My beauty is based upon cheap skills,  it takes a small amount of effort to learn how to perform the social back flips I do.  Sometimes when someone looks at me I laugh,  because I know that they haven't the slightest clue of who I am.  What my friends and the people around me see is the performance of a lifetime.  A performance within a performance within a performance.  At the mall we can walk,  my gang of misfits and I,  and I can show them the performance I give to the crowd.  This performance requires little skill and large swaths of confidence.  It is very easy to yell at random people in public,  I just have to shut off that switch that seems to be innately built into humans to behave considerable around each other.  You could just say I am just being an asshole,  but I think the assholes are the ones that give cheap stares to complete strangers and would walk past someone who is crying and act nonchalant as if they were the ants we step over on the pavement.  Maybe if those ants were devouring a rotting human carcass they would seem to gain much more weight in our minds.

 Next is the performance to the elite circle,  this involves more cards played of ridiculous values.

The key to building the humor of the group:  Blatant exaggeration that stems into almost pure megalomania,  shameless self scarification,  and to hold up the supports of bewilderment one must tighten the tension of the ropes built by societal fear.  The key is to make them think that you shouldn't be doing what you are doing,  that you are stealing the cookies from the jar and they are taking a bite while snickering under the table with you.

The sad irony;  Jokes when we are children are preparation for adult behavior and thus non-serious play fighting like baby carnivores.
While Jokes when we are adults all have a bitter hint of truth in their taste,  the greed behind getting away with turning that ridiculous joke into unabashed truth overwhelms us. 

So when there is a small group I reign with humor without becoming the jester of their court,  this is impossible with large groups and it will only lead to being bound in shackles to have rocks/fruit thrown at my face.  It is only possible to make the group laugh while maintaining dignity by pointing out the groups flaws in such a way that only a portion of the group applies,  or in other words using stereotypes.  We laugh at stereotypes now because they are so forbidden.  But finally at the level of group performance we get to my Achilles heel and lifetime woe:  Nobody will ever see me for who I am.

A friend will see the Dom that performs the friendly engagement behavior mechanism,  and some things we say to some friends we never end up saying to others be it for various benign or vile reasons.  A lover will see another lovers behavior only when they are in love.  If I were to ever love somebody they would have to see me as I truly am,  naked and crying,  the way I left the womb.  I want my love to see my wrath,  my sadness, my paranoia,  my self love and my self pity.  If she could see this and accept it than she would be the only true woman living in the world to my eyes,  all others seem like cheap imitations thus far.

How can so many personalities fall into so few archetypes?  especially when it comes to psychedelic circles, where the raw personalities come out.  There is the Mans woman,  the ladies man.  The hopeless romantic,  the naive romantic,  the queen, the wench,  the dark beauty and light angel.  We are all bound into these circumstantial archetypes,  we are shaped by our locations, our food, our homes, our furniture,  our friends, our genes, our parents genes,  their parents genes,  the rotation of the earth,  the burning of the sun,  the pull of gravity,  the flight of electricity,  the sway of what's current and I will only tell you one thing:  Following the Current is what's current as it always is and always was. . . . Falling downward.

I don't want to be the T.V I now refuse to watch,  I don't want to be the bed I sleep in every night,  I don't to be my routine built around everyone Else's routine built around the days in the week.  The archetypes are our prisons and the bars are the folds of our brains built by favorable circumstances,  adaptation is the way out of the door and fearless change is the key.  In order for the soul to escape the current it must act as a harlequin,  a chameleon,  a cuttlefish.  Every little piece of sensory information whether it be damaging or not is taken into the brain.  The key is to be a cuttlefish with the mind akin to the external digestive gut of a fungus,  exposed to elements but free from predation or poison.  BE the poison NOT the drinker of it.  When the soul lives in this state long enough it must pick the right time to abscess the unnecessary limbs,  like the arms of the starfish,  the tail of a lizard,  and the tail of the frog.  Once this is done the vultures will be looking for more so the albatross must come out and take off across the ocean the vultures cannot cross.  This allows the soul to escape the current and if it must as it generally does it can cross into a new current by becoming the harlequin once again.

If you truly see me you will see I have been the camouflaged harlequin for sometime and a Lion lurks beneath my skin.

Syntactical Alchemy

Welcome back dear,  it's been so long.  The weeds have grown over us so black and cold,  all the blossoms of last spring have unfurled gently in their coalesced blue ultramarine hue.  After watching the black swan drown I connected with her dark rippling sheen. and I let it flow down, down,

far... . . .  .  .  .   .      .     .


down
into my introversion.  Deep seated perversions glowing deep red in the coals, and the hot yellow ash licks my spine.  Growing brighter, glowing, effervescent in the cowering,  she cries,  she lies,  she steams in the sepia oil streams.  Sweeeeet seeething,  deeeep greeeeeening,  preening my feathers timid from the blowing hot glass pooling drooling over the new dawn in her eyes,  cyan from the lukewarm heavenly slow,          ,static touching and sliding electricity,     ,  she flies,  she tries. . . . She lies when she cries she tires when she files down those indulgent purple ambitious dreams,  Flickering down the meandering tropic streams.

This was an example of my indulgent mind,  there are more pieces to the puzzle however.  I have always wondered about the placebo effect of psychology.  IF we are told the symbols of our dreams have a deep seated subconscious meaning,  we find this to be true.  IF we are told the right and left sides of our brains have different personalities,  we believe it.  My right and my left are married in a sacred dance.  My father and my left brain is obsessed with symbols,  math,  and the divine.  My mother and my right brain are flowing in the big picture,  the giant cosm of time,  and the occult.  It is as if they are possessed by an inclusive mandala of exclusion AND inclusion. When I write and draw with my left hand my mother comes out,  gaia.  The lines are never straight,  but the meaning never strays.  It sways in the rhythm of the wind,  a frequency I rarely get in sync with.  This was an example of my hybrid mind,  carrying out its indulgences rationally.  Now my purely cold and sterile rational.  This is pronounced "rash, ee, ooohne, al."

If I have an intention then I will have a reason. I have an intention. So I have a reason.

If I have a reason then I will have an intention. I do not have an intention. So I do not have reason.

If I have an intention for something then I will have a reason for it.

If I have a reason then I have used logic.

Therefore if I use Logic I have an intention for something.

If I have an intention for something then I desire a purpose for something.

I have an intention for something

Thus I desire a purpose for something.

If I desire a purpose for something then I have an intention for something.

If I have an intention for something then I am using logic.

Thus if I desire a purpose for something then I am using logic.

If I am using logic to satisfy a desire for something to have a purpose then that something will have a reason for me to desire it to have a purpose.

If that something has a reason then it has used logic.

If that something has used logic then it has an intention.

Therefore if I am using logic to satisfy a desire for something to have a purpose then that something has an intention.

However this statement is valid if and only if the reason for me to desire that something to have a purpose is identical to the reason I have used Logic. 

Next is the hybrid of chaos,  the hybrid of ideas that could never be thought without a formula of the truth beyond;  the truth beyond my reasons. The higher plane of truth,  alchemically produced. 

Welcome back dear,  it's been so long and your intentions are my reasons if I have an intention at all.  The weeds I have,  grown reason as I will have it, will then cover us so black and cold if only.. . . .

  all the blossoms if they have a reason I had last spring have an intention unfurled gently in their coalesced blue ultramarine hue I do not have anymore.  AND So I do not morn,  After watching the black swan drown, for I connected with her reasons.  Her intentionally dark rippling sheen. and I will then let it have me flow down, down, for I do not have a reason. 

I have fallen

far... . . .  .  .  .   .      .     .


than I was logically used to,

down into reasons,  If I have them. and only then I will therefore intend to find something,
far
down

into my introversion and Wasn't it something?    Deep seated perversions for something glowing deep red in the coals purpose I desire, and the hot yellow ash I have intended for licks my spine. SOME Thing is  Growing brighter, glowing, effervescent in the cowering did I have an intention for her?
 if she cries,  she lies about something;  if she steams then I desire.

in the sepia oil streams my purpose in thus used sweetly.  Sweeeeet seeething intentions,  deeeep greeeeeening perversions,  preening my feathers to show my intentions. Leaving her timid from my desires for the blowing hot purpose.

IF I am becoming glass to satisfy my desire which is pooling down my chest and drooling over my purposes the first dawn in her eyes gives me new reasons.  cyan makes me want to cry for it to have reason  for from the lukewarm I have cried for logic for if it has logic it is heavenly but the process is slow,


She lies when she says she has reasons.
when she cries I lose all the logic I have.
 when she tires I fuel those desires for purpose.
when she files down,
I reason down,
to the bone,
however.

those valid indulgent this as if purple flows reasonably into valid ambitious dreams honed by the valor of truth,

and

Flickering down the meandering tropic streams,  I see where our purpose truly lies,  I see where it hides.

We must be careful before we are forgotten.

Antipodes of thought

"Any trace of positive value judgment is a bad sign for a mind whose goal is to be objective." 

Finals are this week so you better believe I am going to be very distracted on here.

There is a very subtle difference between entertaining a person and inspiring them, it comes down to the values of what is being communicated. On one hand we have the goal of entertaining the person, this means to entice them; to show them pleasures and thrills reserved for the story books. When we want to entertain a person we have to show them the extremes to the point of absurdity, this will make them laugh, because it is something that violates their expectations and if it is powerful enough to be so capable of relation the person will laugh like they are a part of the piece and a part of their entertainers mind. This is my mnemonic method, and you can take it as you will. Arguing with my method is like arguing with recipe instructions, you can cook the pasta however you want, just don't make me eat it.

Another part of entertaining rather than inspiring is the art of appealing to the want for security, appreciation, and luxury. If we show these people somebody similar to them experiencing the wants of their mind in an imaginary realm, it is almost too easy to get them washed into the whirlpool of disillusionment. This is entertainment as a whole, an illusion of participation. This is why when the craft is done poorly one can feel very cheated, people do not want to be taken for fools or at least, they do not want to know about it. However there is the desire to be good at a craft as well, because we are conditioned since we are children to believe that if we do a certain craft phenomenally well we will become praised and loved. When the entertainer is applying his deception of participation it must be done in such a way that the viewer feels they are not only witnessing a phenomenal feat of the entertainers skill but also that their mind is being enriched while it is being engrossed. This stupefaction mixed with adoration garnishes respect for the creator and the illusion that the one being entertained walked away with more than he/she paid for. This is the cause for so much anthropomorphism in every doctrine of science, fiction, and philosophy. When we are told analogies for particles we are told that they behave like we do with attractions and repulsions to certain particles/ and laws they cannot disobey. I would like to pose a theory that if this anthropomorphism holds true and the world is much more subjective than we think, certain combinations of laws and particles can allow unheard of behavior much like the integration of human ideas.

The truth however is that the universe is both objective and subjective and there is never a clear cut distinction between when, how, or why it behaves this way. On one hand we have the different intrinsic qualities of matter yet they all seem to have a unified elementary composition, at least until they are fired through particle accelerators and then even more elementary particles pop up. From an objective standpoint this is a travesty, there must be a unified theory that shows deep down everything is all the same and the different vibrations that are pumped out by the different force charges create different ingredients to be utilized like a metaphorical flavor factory. Wouldn't this be ideal, but at the same time completely not. For a better understanding of what I am going to get at we must first look at these two definitions:

Ideal:

1. a conception of something in its perfection.
2. a standard of perfection or excellence.
3. a person or thing conceived as embodying such a conception or conforming to such a standard, and taken as a model for imitation

Standard:

1. something considered by an authority or by general consent as a basis of comparison; an approved model.

2. an object that is regarded as the usual or most common size or form of its kind: We stock the deluxe models as well as the standards.

3. a rule or principle that is used as a basis for judgment: They tried to establish standards for a new philosophical approach.

Now this may seem like “attack of the itallics” but I want to show what I see in the word ideal, it is the giant irony of language. It is a word with an ideal definition and thus fits the definition of circular reasoning, which essentially is not capable of having a definition without faulty logic. Because circular reasoning (first premise) is a use of reason that depends upon drawing a conclusion that is equivalent to the first premise (second premise). ^My first premise above: Circular reasoning, is equivalent to a use of reason which depends on my second premise above^ which is the definition of circular reasoning and thus is the equivalent to circular reasoning. And in the end circular reasoning is the equivalent of circular reasoning. * Cue applause *

What is the existence of anti bodies without the existence of the virus? Life is resisting itself so it can grow and change, death is the result and freedom is another way of saying death. Eternal sustenance is an ambition that requires the payment of freedom and indulgence. Unfortunately natural selection has already made that decision for us, we can't stop from dying on our wild ride of life and we need a savior that is also a martyr. Jesus is the food we consume, combust, and destroy, the liquid water that streams our cellular processes and preserves our embryos. God is the love that brings the zygotes of sex cells together but he is also the Satan that burns Jesus, his only son, in the name of life. These figureheads are only analogies for who we are and we project them upon something so large we will never understand it because of this, it is subjectivity at its strongest. Intelligent design was born out of science and it was fathered by religion. These giant end all theories of everything do more than emotionally sate our tongues so as to feed our souls, they motivate us and drive us. Humanity has stumbled on intelligence and found no motivation behind it, Intelligence is objectivity itself and without a viewing subject containing a little subjectivity to apply to this knowledge it is a seed without water. Nothing new will happen to reason without that chaotic element. What point am I finally getting at? None. Now might you ask the difference between entertaining and inspiring I can only say one thing; entertaining is stealing that wealth of energy in the universe to put into the subject leaving them awestruck and stupefied, inspiring is simply showing the subject they have always had this potential. I like to be the surfer between these waves of human behavior, first resisting the wave to ride it's potential and then falling in to be swept up it's rolling axis.

Burrowed in the Furrows of My brow

Burrowed in the Furrows of My Brow are my secrets manifested in the throbbing pulse of Anamorphic chemicals in Lagomorphic creatures;

When I was a child I thought I was the messiah,  Now I think I am the great destroyer.  The most reassuring feeling I had was of being curled up in Gods palm,  The most terrorizing feeling I had was when I found this to be a lie.

The masses treat God like Heroin;  the great sleep.

I treat God like Ayahuasca;  The fathomless deep. 

Happiness

Once in a while I Google the word happiness,  and I can tell you none of the things that come up are happiness.  Ever.

Nobody in Class understood the meaning of this. ^  My professor calls herself an Art historian and she can't even fucking identify Salvador Dali from Ernst.  Yet she can tell us all the world about the bullshit that Miro puts forth.  I like to hate because I like the way it makes me look,  a bad motherfucker.  I like to be depressed because I like the way it makes people react,  like I have some chip on my shoulder and am a self pitying Asshole.  I like to go insane because I know I will always have solidarity to rely on.  I like to promote myself so people think I am starting to become a cliche. 




Je n'aime pas ces choses ^

Internet

I am writing from the least trusted source on the web,  a blog page.  I find it funny that we are willing to admit a blog is a terrible resource because it is the equivalent of admitting that all individuals are not credible resources. Individuals can type the information they want to convey to the Internet on a blog last time I checked,  if I am mistaken then this reaffirms my fear that we have a total lack of will altogether.  But I digress.

A huge problem I find with the current education system for credible sources is that it gives a catch all rule for finding information, it's only credible if it is scholarly.

( 6 hour intermission)

The prior paragraph was a while ago an I don't wish to continue on the subject,  instead of saving it as a draft I will let you see it as is,  this keeps it alive.  One can feel the sobering dying down of my my minds frenzied mental erection.  

So a Librarian woke me up with a puddle of drool allover my shoulder,  hahaha,  wouldn't be the first time.  I was so embarrassed,  she probably thinks I am homeless or something because I spend a lot of time there.  But believe it or not it's not to sleep,  it's to read.  It's the one place where I can learn at my own discretion which I think is the better way,  knowledge is just too interconnected to just emphasize on all those specifics.  One can't look at the Nuclear Mysticism of Dali without first understanding some physics.  Unfortunately I am not a good racing horse,  you can't just put the blinds on me and expect me to stay in my starting gate.  Currently I am on the path towards trying to fundamentally understand energy (really ambiguous word as I am coming to find out.),  because that seems like the best and most impossible idea to comprehend.  I don't want to open a power plant,  I just want to understand it fundamentally and quiet down my soul.

Sick from evil

I am more sick than you are,  you have withdrawals during an Easter dinner while I have to lie to your family for you.  I am so sick of your bullshit,  they fucking prayed for you thinking that it wasn't your fault.  You almost killed us on the highway today,  never mind, I will never be as sick a person as you are. 

Retrospect

Ah,  Just finished those papers.  I feel so much better now that I got a full night of sleep.  Yet something is bugging me,  it's funny because it seems like I can never enjoy anything but the truth of my enjoyment is the opposite.  I have had joys and Ecstasies in my life that would make a guru blush.

  It is my drive and my ambition that puts such a high price toward enjoyment.  It's so strange,  I love sadness sometimes and deep melancholy,  It reminds me that I still have a heart.  When I am sad it is like a sweet symphony,  a harrowing minor shift into major and divine inspiration.  (watch your feet for the music pun)

If joy and Ecstasy are the shimmering surface of a pond than sadness and melancholy is the somber dark green depths where the bottomfeeders of the imagination lurk.  The key to optimism is knowing when to have pride and when not to.  If money is high,  friends are sociable,  and everything is prospering than be merry.  Prosper as well. Be like a blade of grass in the rainy season,  humility can kill if we aren't careful of it.  Too much humility is like the heavily abused dog that comes back to the master with its tail wagging. I know too many people that suffer from this,  and it's tricky because you cannot cure a person with too much humility by telling them how they should be.  You have to invoke inspiration in them,  you have to make them realize they are great and their potential is great. 


The key to always enjoying yourself however is to have the right amount of humility when necessary.  When money is low,  you have lost respect,  and people around you seem to be happier then have humility.  When I look at where I live,  what I have accomplished,  what image I put off,  and think it seems unsatisfactory I laugh.  I laugh at myself and realise I am just the little creature trying to make the entire world fall before myself.  I laugh because it is failure that has given us the diversity we have today, yes I know,  crazy talk.  But if nature were afraid to fail it would go nowhere,  eventually the organism that plays it safe for too long goes extinct.  We have to change constantly and we have to adapt in order to survive but also to be satisfied. 

We humans are too smart to not take full advantage and feel the greatest pleasure nature is capable of,  it is right here in our bodies.  This could be an argument for drugs,  but it is actually one against it.  We can feel happier without them as crazy as that sounds.  What if I told you I knew the perfect formula to experience bliss at all times?  Well I tell you bliss in your will and that is all.  I only follow the formula for constant bliss when I think I need it,  my brain and my self are at my own disposal to do with as I please.  I am freedom,  freedom is me. 

 However Freedom is just a feeling and chaos is just a concept.  Order is just an idealization and everything can be just as infinite and finite as we wish.  Embrace it all and you will cheat death within your lifetime. 

Sick and Tired

Why would I procrastinate two 10 page papers until the night before they are due you might ask?  Because I want to secretly kill myself from sleep deprivation and I am a dumbass.  Gahd shoot me!