thoughts – Page 3 – William Dare

The strangest secret.

We become what we think about.

The very thoughts we conjure and dwell upon shape our actions, habits, character, and destiny. Choose your thoughts wisely. Knowing this, recognize how important your environment is. The people you hang out with, the hobbies and pastimes you indulge in, the imagery you subject yourself to, what you read, what you listen to, and the desires of the heart all shape you variably. Control your thoughts and you control your life, your success or your failure.

I think, therefore I am.

Primitive

We’re so primitive. Cluttered, smoggy, tangled lives. Surrounded by things, choking on fumes, tripping over wires. We sit on our high throne and pat ourselves on the back for our great progress. We’ve made no real progress. The philosophies that govern the majority of the lost and dying world we live in today are no different than those practiced in antiquity. Has our brilliance truly saved more lives than it cost? The famine, the killing, the lies and deceit and confusion. Do we possess any more of life’s answers than ever before in history? Are we any closer to what we’re looking for? As long as there is death and struggle, confusion and war, pride and ego, I would say we have squandered our time and exasperated our resources. No matter the theory or philosophy, free will has perfection shackled and out of reach forever. Only a strive to attain the ideal exists. That is universal.

love seat

Ensconced on the love seat, a quixotic tinge of nostalgic memories sift through my conscious. I’m gripped with irascible feelings of regret and a dark cloud settles over me. A typical bout of dyspepsia. I woke too anxious this morning. The few rays shining in my direction were nothing more than a cruel luster of pollyanna still lingering from the ravenous exchange the night prior. As if the slightest quench of thirst were too much too ask, the inclination proved nothing more than an overzealous hope for some existential satisfaction, rendering another life experience totally meaningless. That’s the problem with being your own God, subject to none, dictator to all. The reality of your homage still stands abruptly in the face of your upward gaze. You’re nothing more and nothing less than flesh wherein you reside. Courting the imaginative lies is effortless, swallowing the deceit that bores its way into our beliefs, we no sooner discover, if insanity doesn’t find us first, that we are no more God than we think ourselves to be. The malignant disease of pride will be the cancer of our heart and eyes, numbing us of true satisfaction and blinding us to the narrow truths of life. Not till I became my own God did deprivation never feel so real and blindness so permanent. My strength, residing in the ability to continually coax fabricated realities into being, cannot save me from the human weakness that extends far beyond the feeble clutches the will bears to survive. My heart is black, tainted by the raging consumption of loneliness and confusion burning below, tormented by the thought of relinquishing control to anyone else but my ego. I shovel my grave when I fail to acknowledge where real law originates, constituting realities that need no eye to behold nor mind to conceive.

laissez

consolidating the fragments of disbelief. pinching my cheek at the end of the night. I haven’t been sure lately. I’m sure that when I am, I will succeed.

laughter. smiles. scrunching little noses and a wink. denial. coping mechanisms that place me in a state of complete ignorance. but i am aware. a travesty of love.

delicate motives of genuine heart.

It’s 1:43pm

Here I am. In the library. My heart is definitely in my chest. I can feel it surge to the top of my throat, ebbing and flowing with feelings as I search for meaning within myself.

I feel routine. I want novelty. I was laying in bed last night, eyes open and locked on the ceiling, thinking about my life. When you recognize you are in control, and you ask yourself what you want, and you don’t know, or you’re doing everything you can pretty much ask of yourself, what can you do? Where does that leave you?

I’m writing a paper on a radical environmentalist. Correction: I’m suppose to be writing a paper on a radical environmentalist. Instead, I’m typing away, trying my best to allow some thoughts to escape as a means to relieve the pressure within my head.

**********

Last night, I was in my bed, thinking many thoughts about matters of significant value in my life, yet these thoughts, that seemed so valuable, failed to lead me to any answers. No. I refuse to acknowledge my faulty perspective. The truth is, I was tired, slightly burnt from typing non-stop throughout the day, and my mind wanted rest.

Do you ever feel that you sometimes lack the working material to craft new ideas? I suppose that’s what they call inspiration. Where do we look for this inspiration? Where do we gather the material that usually seems to be right beneath our noses?

****************

Snow hills, steep and slippery. The walkways are platted in a brown slush. I skip over the puddles of mud and ice, walking with my head down. Some days I look up and smile at a passerby. I like smiling. I like smiling with my eyes. It makes them smile. People know that which is real. Today I look down at the puddles. The trees are frosted with a light snowy powder. Chimney’s breath gentle clouds of steam high into the air. The sky matches the dull look in my eye, gray and lifeless.

**********

Be the change you see in the world.

I had a good night tonight. I can barely feel my fingers as I type this out. Later than expected, I found myself wondering if I could manage the colossal mountain of work I’d been over dramatizing in my head. I found myself doing my best to catch up on sleep throughout the day. Minutes and hours here and there. Nothing too worthy to be called a recovery. Eventually I found myself eager to change what was starting to become a daily routine of ideal wishing. I sat there at dinner and talked of motivation with other desperate bodies longing for some kind of intangible compulsory that would inspire them. I felt a rush of invigoration and began talking with a tone of hope. Dreams and aspirations… the people that I live amongst. The people inhabiting the world. The vast majority. What do they think it takes to be successful? To exist in ideal circumstances? Everyone has their own conception of what that is of course, but I find it pretty sad when they attribute the magnificent powers of success to factors outside their control. How depressing. They scrounge and crawl to these dreams. What kind of dream is that? Where crawling and feeble begging and lost hope intertwine all together as a means to fulfill the desires residing in the depths of their soul? I call it soul. Its whatever you are deep inside- Who you are. What’s sad is the lack of faith. They contain the power they long to feel. It resides in them, untapped. Like a spring waiting to give life to all who put the energy to dig deep enough. So sad.
So I sat there this evening, dwelling with ever flowing surges and waves of thought. I refused to drown in my own state of helplessness. I decided to remind myself, and anyone that would listen, of our potential; using words that could penetrate their weak excuses for a state anything less than ideal. Perfect is my state. I began talking about faith. Not hope. Beyond hope. Hoping is wishing for circumstances that are beyond your our immediate control. That’s another excuse to lay back and be victimized. Everything it takes to be successful resides within you. You have what it takes. You don’t have to wish or hope any longer. No more sadness. No more waiting for better days.
I talked. They listened with eagerness. “Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be.”(Emerson). Whom we always wanted to be. My desire is to provide a sliver of inspiration that induces motivation.
I talked and their eyes became fixated on words that transcended their immediate listening and penetrated their hearts; to a place where they dwelt where they were alone, where they wished someone would provide the comfort of an idea they could believe would rescue them. A breath of hope that blows gently on the embers of their desires so they could see the flames that give the light they need to travel on, far beyond the shadows of doubt.
I want to offer that as much as I want to hear it. I talked. They listened. They heard what I said. Human experience is something far more powerful than any book; than any of the scholarly text that lead us to believe this or that. Scholarly writings only exist to confirm universal human experiences. When you haven’t experienced, you cannot take the words of another without leading yourself into a realm where you have no agency of understanding. You are blind and grabbing at abstracts. The words of human experience resonate deep and wide and can be universally translated even through the gaze of the eyes. They hit you deep and you understand.
As I exchanged these words of penetration I myself began to realize what I often neglect as relevant human experience. How foolish. We know the answers yet we struggle to find the strength to believe in them, even when they lay within our reach.

I went out tonight. I found myself churning through pages and pages of essays. One by one I flipped the pages of readings, gently tapping away at my keyboard with every insight I overturned. I managed to produce a four page research paper in a matter of no more than four hours. I was pleased with my work and debated the possibilities of exploring some social activities this evening. My intentional better half longed to finish all the homework scheduled for the lengthy weekend ahead, but my wise yet understanding social half decided otherwise. I would make a phone call to casually inquire about any nightly activities ahead. I struck fortune and no longer than an hour later I found myself laughing and conversing with other jubilant comrades who were just as thrilled as I. The temperature dropped well below freezing. My estimations lead me to believe we hung out in a range far below negative fifteen degrees. Maybe single digits. It didn’t matter though. Valentine whiskey, Budweiser and Coors light beer? Any combination calls for a party. And we did.
A wonderful array of personalities collided into a beautiful hum of snickers and hugs and pictures and smiles. It was nice. Relationships blossomed and a strange comforting security swept over the usual anxiety.

I had a good time. it was cold. It was pretty much equivalent to anything you’d encounter in anything north of 50deg latitude. I felt like an Eskimo. It was good though. There were a lot of people I was glad to talk to for a change. A lot of people i hadn’t had the chance to converse in serious dialog with.

All day tomorrow is homework and study day. Accounting and English. 🙂

Digitized thoughts.

My chest hurts. I cough and a fiery sensation burns inside me.

A soft breeze really makes me feel good. It’s chilly but I’m warm now. I have a nice sweater on. It’s white and fitting. My blue jeans are snug and slightly faded. I’m wrapped up nicely.

There are so many people. Walking. Going and coming. They look lost. The mountains are gray. Generations of contrast layered in the distance.

Clouds hang not too far above. I can almost jump up and grab them. Drifting gently across the sky. They gang up on the sun, but its rays are too eager to shine through. The sun smiles across the terrain. Blue sky. Slightly tainted with striated shades of white.

My sweater is white. I have the hood over my head. I peer through my cave out into the world. It protects me. Little men dribble their soccer balls below on the quad. The grass is dark green with occasional spots of sandy brown. Apples grab tightly on the trees, ready to fall like their rotting friends. The hum of a helicopter. My mind. My cough. Damn this cough. I smiled hard today. I mean. It was hard for me to smile… but I did it anyway. It made me feel better.

Sleeping in…
This weekend I slept it. It felt good. Sleep always feels good. You’re in that dream world. Everything, all physical restraints that tug on the mind and body are somewhere far away. I dream and I close my eyes, absorbing into warm plush blankets and plump pillows. I melt and drift and escape from now. I play little movies in my head. I think about what the future will bring. I think about the people I will meet. The places I will visit. I visualize tomorrow’s events hour by hour, planning out in preparation. Sometimes I think about traveling to foreign countries… I like to see the rolling hills in Ireland, the soft grass against the ocean. I like free falling and flying. Sometimes I fall into a deep sleep for a moment and my stomach ascends into my throat with an exhilaration and adrenaline that leads me to jump up and let out a surprised gasp. Only I realize I’m not falling or flying and I’m safe in bed. Hm.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. It’s funny. You have good days… bad days… good weeks… bad weeks… good months… bad months… good years… bad years.

I think it’s funny. You’re life is as good as you make it. Sometimes I forge the true significance of that statement. Some days I feel like I fight against gravity and every urge to stay awake, and other days I make a powerful decision that life is amazing… or it will be… and i live the day like its so. I don’t know why I let myself live any other way. I forget. I get preoccupied with trivial things. Circumstantial things. I forget the amazing grace of God and the beauty of creation.

I’m sitting on a wooden bench. Weathered and splitting. It overlooks a tri-state view that captures the essence of freedom. To see this you need to just look at the rays cascading through the clouds, speckling the mountains and the trees, and watch the birds gracefully skim the tops of the ridge lines.

what is good writing?

Michael Sean

My thoughts on good writing…

Genuine authentic good writing is something I eagerly breathe in, hoping that in the process I can make it apart of me so that I might produce work as equally invigorating. Good writing invokes an emotional eagerness, an emotional response of inquisitiveness that is more exciting and magnetic that anything else you could be doing at that moment. It is alluring in the most curious way. It has an enlightening edge that cuts deep. It picks you up and your mind forgets the words. A script inside your body begins to resonate with this truth as your imagination dances around possibilities. It’s no longer a chore. It’s no longer a book. It’s an experience that transcends basic communication. Good writing keeps your mind in the here and now, in motion. It doesn’t matter what it’s dwelling on, past or present. It’s fierce. It’s bold. It’s fresh and new and properly lit in a way you’ve never seen it before. It tastes a little different, smells a little different. The combinations of experiences you’ve explored to date are melting into internal imagery that produces natural fluidity in your understanding. You’re every faculty is engaged and prompt and willing. It is ready to go. Your heart is fluttering and you’re anxious for the feelings to begin or end or endure the thrill of the journey. It’s all in between. It’s a masterful collection of anything and everything you’ve dreamed to create in that moment.

I read what moves me, and I write when I’m moved. I only want to write from my heart, where my feelings dictate my fingers, where I enter a state of conscious unconsciousness. Time stops and my eyes pass through the screen or paper into my thoughts where I swim and skim off the top of my subconscious. My vibrations are in sync with every cell in my body. This is sometimes brief. A flash of inspiration like a white light. Sometimes it lasts for hours until my attention is forced to be drawn elsewhere. I only want to write in order to let people know that someone feels like they do. I want to capture the curiosity, capture the eagerness, capture the appeal of another consciousness, or subconscious. Maybe these words will replay at night in their dreams. Maybe a single word I present in my productions will be the last word in a revelation to could change their life. Who knows? I just want to relay and relate.

Writing is an art, much like music or painting. There are many aspects that make an artist more powerful and talented than the others in his field. Recognizing and refining these aspects are essential for the artist to excel as he pours himself into his work so that another soul may be touched through a medium such as art.

Just as notes are fundamental to a musician or paint is vital to a painter, so is vocabulary essential for a writer. A good vocabulary allows for experiences or understandings to be encoded with emotional or mental stimulus, into a single word for digestion. A single misplaced word can mean the difference between a mutual understanding and a complete miscommunication. Vocabulary provides the raw resources for our imagination to constructs our thoughts. Just like as single note on a musical ledger synthesizes and harmonizes with our inner self, so can a word resonate with unique feelings and ideas. The style is simply the writer’s soul communicating as much honest detail as possible from his heart to the readers. Like the detailed brush stroked of a painting, or the symphonic arrangement of musical notes, it is something that is personal and rarely duplicable. These two elements, when arranged into a coherent melodious message, will bloom causing ideas to refract perspective, reflect insight, and color the landscape of our mind with the proper contrasts and shades of the story.

To be a competent writer there needs to be emotional engagement. The emotional inspiration is what makes the writing personable. If the writer is less than enthused about the writing, it will seem meaningless, void of any value, dry and rigid. The commonality and fluidity of human emotion will cause a reader to look past the basic metaphysical realm of grammatical traditional prose and into a much deeper message of meaning.

I want to see a writer who is obsessed with communicating his heart and soul. To be a good writer you need to bear all. Screw all the mindless jargon. It’s boring. What I want is raw human emotion. I want sheer brutal honesty. I want the ‘what is’. I want to take something from the experience. I want to grasp his unique assimilation and response to human experience totally naked and free. When I can smell and taste and feel the message and the thoughts and feelings, when I’m in the writers mind, shaking and breathing heavy, than I know that the writer is competent. He will find whatever way possible to relay this kind of message.

In the end, competent writing is an individual expression. To what degree you want to expose this individuality will determine the reader’s response. The writer shouldn’t worry whether or not everyone can relate. You cannot please everyone. The only thought to be given is to those that have the imagination to engage so that they can testify in their deepest of gut that what is being translated is real and tangible- no matter how intangible their thoughts and feelings are. The grammar, the style, the vocabulary, the iteration, the prose…. It will come naturally after you have beaten the hell out of the negative instincts that cause you to shy away from exposing your soul. Those technicalities, those formal traditions of proper communication and dialect, used for uniformity, will come as you relate the whole truths that represent human experience in its rawest most honest state.

Personally as a writer, I want to know what I’m doing right.

I want to be successful. I want a teacher who facilitates success. I’ve read a lot of books about success. That universal word, success, relates to personal excellence in any progressive worthwhile ideal or endeavor. I’ve learned to focus entirely on the positive. A positive mental attitude is the only thing that encourages the will to rise to the challenge. Nothing else allows for proper growth. Anything else stifles or stagnates. Negativity is the weed that chokes out the beautiful flower you’ve worked hard to plant and prune and water throughout the seasons of your life. It will kill all enthusiasm and all progress. Avoid watering the weeds by giving them attention. The key is focus on the solution. Eighty percent of your focus should be on the solution, twenty percent on the problem. I want a teacher who successfully communicates positively.

When you are running a race you do not want to keep your eyes on the starting line, otherwise you’ll never leave. You want to focus entirely on the finish line, and direct every ounce of energy and focus to get you there. Your desire should be to learn whatever you can to improve your chances of arrival and the efficiency and effectiveness of the time and effort allocated to get you there.

As a writer, I want to hear whether I’m going in the right direction or not. I want to hear about my strengths- what captures your attention, what works. I want to hear what you’re looking for. I want my creativity fostered, encouraged, and guided. I do not want hedges, or boundaries, or blockades. I will grow restless and confused and produce mediocre works for you- when all I want is to produce the very best work for myself. To properly express the holistic mind and the assimilated truths I’ve gathered that represent my unique experiences and perspective.

A detail I specifically look for from a teacher, speaking from my individual opinion as a student, is the ability to ask good questions. I am looking for questions that inspire me to think, to dig deeper. I do not want answers. I want questions. I want a teacher who asks me questions so that I, as a student, can arrive at an answer as I see its relative importance to me. I want to arrive at the intrinsic value of an answer through my own deductive reasoning and intuition. I want to earn it. I want to pave that path. I am unique and I want its significance and meaning to stay that way. When I ask a question, I want a question in return. That- to me- is the difference between a good teacher, who teaches the students to actually think for themselves and develop their own creative imaginative learning style that leads to the development of a unique individual, and the teacher who fuels the degenerate society we live in to willingly accept the answers we’re fed by our superiors.

simple words

sometimes words aren’t enough to capture the simple things in life. too many words ruin a perfect moment. too many thoughts make things complicated. I’m bored. I have a mountain of homework. Im sure i do anyway. I hate ruining things. I need to collect my thoughts.

dreamm

if this is your life. why wouldnt you want to make it the happiest most creative positive joyful uplifting inspirational gleeful existance ever? why not try to do the best you can in every thing you take on. why wouldnt you think only the very best thoughts. thoughts that capture life and invigorate from the inside out; radiating through your eyes and illuminating the world around you, even enhancing the world for the people around you? i dont understand? why wouldnt you try to conjure the very best of those thoughts and actions? do you not know what that looks like and feels like? than why dont you search for it and try to find it? if it was under your nose, and it really is, you wouldn’t know unless you looked. why wouldnt you wake up every day excited to upturn another of lifes wonders? gosh. life is never always good. those hormones are never really reliable. but you can control one thing. and thats your thoughts. and you know what can change a mood pretty quickly? a single thought. i single word can change a mood for the better. so why why why dont you search for that word every day. that fleeting satisfying goodness that could sooth any ache the day could possibly lay in front of you. attitude. its all about that. our self talk. we need to improve it. have uplifting self talk.

im not an idiot. im not naive. im not ignorant of the troubles around us. or circumstances. I like to make my circumstances work for me. I like to be incontrol of my life. I cant control what happens to me, but i can control how i react and handle it. I am responsible for my life. I do not like the thought of circumstances and happenings controlling my mood and thoughts. i like to capture every thought and have it work for me in any circumstance.

i like to be an idealist. realists are just like everything else innate on this earth. idealist see what can be. realists see what is. what kind of world would we live in if no one ever dreamed. realists dont dream big. they dream small. i like to keep things in perspective, but you know what, the craziest people out there contributed the most creative material and ideas this world had seen. what if edison was a realist? or da vinci? or graham bell? or tesla? or marconi? or ford? or daimler? alexander the great? or i mean. even Jesus. idealist think of possibility. its easier to work with what we know, but unless we think of what could be how would we approach learning?

where is the hope?our minds can take us anywhere. create whatever reality we could possibly concieve for ourselves? DREAM.

this is what i think

you know what. i used to have so little faith in myself. i thought i was a failure. i thought i just lacked what it took in this world to be great. i just considered myself special as an individual but i never realized how i could possible excel and contribute. the past year ive changed tremendously.

my whole metaphysical system for understanding what it means to be successful has been totally redone. it started with me failing high school. then me being a drug addict. then me losing a girl i loved with all my heart that it hurt and what hurt more was my inadequacy, because she deserved the best and i wasn’t. and i had to give her up in my mind because if i loved her i wouldn’t want to be a burden for someone that special. anyway.

i eventually sorta gave up, got kicked outta my house and was homeless for awhile. it was then, when i realized i would die or be a totally depressed unhappy bum if i didnt take responsibility for my thoughts and actions did i start exploring how to be successful. i started reading books, and the first book i picked up changed my life. “as a man thinketh” by james allen. i never even read prior to that book. i read it and it changed my view of the potential inside me that was crying out to be tapped. ever since ive continued reading books by the most successful people in the world and i never thought i could read so me or have so much ambition and positive hope for myself and my future.

failure is not an option to stop. i realized it simply became a stepping stone to success. you fail at something, you just dont do it that way again. otherwise youd be insane (doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results) instead you try try again reading and thinking about how to to it better and you will succeed. there are alot of tools and understanding ive aquired as the priciple foundations for success. anyway. anyway. i went back to highschool with a renewed spirit, got my degree, looked at colleges, read books, found landmark, readup on it, thought it sounded amazing, applied and paid for all those fees and here i am. i swear im so excited to get challenged, esp in an environment where they understand my frustrations i face with ADD and my mind. cause i don’t operate like the norm, and throughout high school and prior i thought i was just a crazy lunatic who was too scatterbrained and not focused enough to really make progress. i know now i can.

i think about that girl and it hurts so bad but i tell you whenever i feel lazy or contemplate procrastinating i think about her and how much it hurt to feel like a failure and now worthy enough for her. i expect much from myself. i want to give the world to her. and its not so much her as it is someone that i will have those feelings for again in the future. its extremely painful to let go of something you love more than anything. it motivates me to read dozens and dozens of books on dozens of subjects and get up early and go to the gym and do errands and be creative and just my the best person i can be. we all have unlimited potential its up to each of us in this lifetime to realize the potential. only then can be possibly tap into it.

i realize i am who i am and im ok with that. i will succeed and reach all of my goals so long as i have goals. goals are huge. without them we wander aimlessly in life. we need to know where to set the bar and what we’re working for and applying our efforts towards. the only thing more fulfilling than accomplishing a goal is the thought of the possibility of accomplishing it. its so invigorating. the challenge is like a reservoir of satisfaction waiting to be tapped. ah. so anyway. i want to prove to myself that i can be as successful as i think i can. it aint for the degree. it aint for the money. its about learning and adding to my knowledge and understanding. every accomplishment builds confidence towards the next even more challenging endeavor.

looking forward to catching up at school. we have the potential to do whatever our mind can come up with however amazing. “whatever the mind of a man can conceive and believe, the mind of a man can achieve.”-napoleon hill. you gotta think big and be positive and just on every opportunity to overcome a challenge or a fear. i got some good books ill introduce you to. ultimately, its what you want from this life and yourself. “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” so true. problem is we don’t ask, and we don’t seek, and we don’t pursue. anyway.

this place is awesome. its built for people like me. they have all the right teachers and resources to tap into for help and encouragement. and from here, if I utilize everything available to us, we can go on to any higher more challenging institution for learning we choose. its exciting.

i like all music. my friends got me into the hardcore scene. not a huge fan of country yet, just doesnt do it for me, and rap and r&b is aight. hiphop a little more perferable. i dont get into any music scene tho. i tend to go with what speaks to my emotions at the time. anyway.

boring

about as boring as a rock. until you crack it open. and maybe youll find something of worth. and maybe youll find something completely useless. if youre creative you can take that boring rack and make it work for you. you can see it for what it really is and unlock a hidden potential passed over so many times before. i wonder if the rock knows.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Confused and lost. Programming myself on a daily basis. I know too much for my own good. I don’t know what I want. I know what I don’t. I struggle daily with vices, addictions, motivating. I’m obsessed with learning, knowledge, acquiring it, putting it to use; and at the same time, totally wasting away because life is short and seemingly unfulfulling. Creativity can be practiced. You’re only as smart as you think you are. Know you are. What is my existence. It’s a cruel catch phrase. I want to catch something that will pull me along. Passions are postal stamps. You label your hobbies as cool. Nothing is filling. Negetivity will bring you nothing, show you nothing. I know nothing in the scheme of things. I think too much. I get headaches, heartaches, and stomache aches. I am conscious all the time. There is little I overlook. I say everything for a reason. But it doesn’t mean i mean it. I look past and beyond whats behind and in front of me, obstacles, you know. I realize my happiness is trivial when compared to yours. I hope your happy. Love exists only in the eyes of a blind man. Fortunately you can gouge your eyes out. I only plead with myself. Im very articulated and poigant. Picky, selective, particular but I’ll lead you to believe I’m not. I’ll please you, but your not special. Few read the credits. Who really cares about anyone but themselves. I can be your biggest fan. I believe in bliss. Lying to youself. Ignorance. I have a hard time dealing with reality. Reality is debatable. I can close my eyes. I escape too often. No ones special without a label. Power corrupts. Knowledge corrodes. Wisdom prevails. and all this means absolutely nothing.

emo logistics

I realized something a long time ago and every once and a while i touch on it and it gives me a little reminder of who i am. I realized i rationalize my emotions. This may be a good and bad thing. Im sorta indifferent as to whether or not it matters in the long run cuz ultimately, in the end, i decide how happy i am based on my efforts. I always diassociate myself from my feelings and emotions. I form logical bridges and barriers to protect and guide myself through troubled waters. I use understanding and knowledge to build a mausoleum around my hurt. The few times I’ve followed my emotions i must say have led to the worst disappointments in my life. Deaths, broken relationships, and confusion were usually the result. anyway. I dont really think too highly of those things called emotions. Maybe I wont be living life to the fullest but as i see it they only bring you down. you emotions are not your reality. and they dont know whats best for you.

Feelings and Emotions

Alright. This is my interpretation of those little critters we call feelings and emotions. I honestly think they are simply indicators. They indicate as to whether or not our thoughts are in line with that we really want. They are like a compass for our true desires. If we think and dwell on the things we want… we feel good. If we think and dwell on the things that we don’t want… or even things that aren’t important… we’ll feel blah.. or bad. You get it? This isn’t me just saying this either. There are plenty of reasons supporting this.
knowing this…

We absolutely, positively have the power of free thought. That is undebateably true. We ultimately choose what it is we think about on a daily basis. We however do develop habits of thinking. Sometimes bad habits, which would explain why some people feel so bad all the time. They constantly think about things that they don’t want due to poor habits of thinking, which in turn makes them feel bad, even if they really don’t want it. The law of attraction states that whatever it is you give you’re attention to, you will get more of it. Even if its something you dont want. for example: “I don’t want to be sad.” you just gave your attention to being sad. Not being happy, which is what you really want. Mother Theresa knew this concept. She said she’d never attend an anti-war rally, but if there was a peace really she’d go. funny. anyway…
knowing this…

Give your attention to things you want and not only will you be more aware of these things, you will become the thing you want, and you will draw circumstances together to get you the thing you want.
somehow i got off topic.

basically. Don’t trust your feelings. They LIE. alright… so if a girl is everything you want then i mean, its obvious you’ll have feelings for her. and i mean… explore it. obv. but don’t act accordingly to them. Base your actions on principles and values and whats best for everyone. anyway.

journaling

i was getting tired of posting blogs on myspace. people dont give a shit to look at any of that stuff. i just need to write and let go sometimes. so um. here i am. ive been very thoughtful lately. i dont know if thats good or bad, but ive been really delving into things. its pretty unnecessary. ive been thinking alot. im so over so much shit. im tired of dick people who dont take thier time to get to know anyone. i like meeting everyone. and what i dont like is the people who dont give any thought to anyone else but themselves. alot of people like that lately. whatever.

my moms going to jersey for the summer, my sisters leaving for college soon, my younger sisters never around. so that leaves my dad and i alone in this house. not that im gonna ever see him cause he travels and works more than anyone ive ever met, but its a potentially scary situation. we’ll see tho. everyone that i remained close with the past year has moved the fuck away. mostly college. and everyone else i use to keep in touch with just disappeared. i dont do drugs so i keep myself from people that put me in those compromising situations. i dunno. i decided to pick my friends instead of having them around for convenience. so i only have like… very few now. my choice. the people i happen to surround myself with are the best people ive met so its straight. ive had alot of free time for good stuff like lifting, getting in shape, eating really good stuff. um. jakes gonna be my lifting partner for the next two months so im stoked about that. i started playing my guitar alot more. it feels good to write music again. dino fuckin belli left me. it sucks. im gonna visit him. colorado. nice place.

heavy heavy low low is amazing.
im so tired i have one eye open.

going to bed.

Lying

lying

Im sitting next to dead air while there is a garden of life outside my window. With this wooden chair sapping the life out of my body, i ask myself how much longer ill live. Ill walk and rub my face into the the wind. Skipping the cracks that divide my steps and grabbing onto passing trees. Humming myself a melody and look toward the setting sun- green lawnchairs are great for resting i mumbled. i found that lying in wet grass is more comforting than most feeble arms.

10:35 AM

lying

Friday, August 05, 2005

lying
Im sitting next to dead air while there is a garden of life outside my window. With this wooden chair sapping the life out of my body, i ask myself how much longer ill live. Ill walk and rub my face into the the wind. Skipping the cracks that divide my steps and grabbing onto passing trees. Humming myself a melody and look toward the setting sun- green lawnchairs are great for resting i mumbled. i found that lying in wet grass is more comforting than most feeble arms.