For A Friend

Her eyes moved quickly, as they had to match the speed of her hands, racing across the plane of white absence, creating explosions of color from a spectrum of creativity. Her mind was the only object in control of her world, her body merely a tool to express thoughts. A machine who’s purpose was only to destroy the white, pollute it with a color so vivid it could inspire a life. The woman was unsure of what was to be the result of these violent artistic actions. She was unsure as to what actually inspired these movements. She was simply driven on a carnal emotion of instinctual artistic nature.

Lines darting across the canvas, marking the place they land as their home, their permanent state of residence. These lines are nothing. They are pawns of a dangerously precise game of chess. These lines are everything. They are the basis for all survival in this world of angelic hues and demonic tones. Without these frivolous lines there would be no order among the woman’s world of chaotic thought. It would all fall apart, crumble and erode, only to be found at the bottom of the abstract ocean, a relic that never could survive in a modernistic age of time.

As her hands felt the tingled sensation of pain, from prolonged use, a voice broke her out of the dreamlike world. The angelic words were softly spoken, “That’s a beautiful picture.”

The woman batted her eyelashes, now realizing the work which had caused her mind to succumb from a break of reality. Her voice matched the soft tone of the one who destroyed her creative flow, “Thank you, it’s my house.”

“It is wonderful”, responded the unknown voice.

The woman chuckled to herself, “I really enjoy finger painting.”

“I understand that, but it is recess time. Don’t you want to go outside and play with your friends?”

The woman took one last look at her masterpiece, an artwork that could never be matched by any other preschooler, no matter how hard they tried. The woman’s sanity regained its hold on her mind, “I can’t wait to show my mom. I think she will love it.”

The unknown figure smiled and stated, “I’ll be sure to show her. Come now, go play with your friends.”

Can We Ever Truly Understand?

One of the things that I have come to understand recently is that we never can truly understand another human being. We can never climb inside the mental processes of another person, walk around and view all of the facets that make up their internal makeup. There is always a layer that we simply cannot access, as if it was an impenetrable wall of mystery. Why is this? Why is it that humans feel the need to allow people into their life only to a certain degree? We are creatures of fear and mistrust, that much is obvious. We create lies and false truths, or half truths, to cover our weaknesses and faults. Why? We surround ourselves with people that only wish to care about us, it's only natural, and yet we cover ourselves with a blanket of security, not allowing anyone to see through it. It is mind boggling. The only logical reason that I can actually think of is that we, and by we I mean you yourself, cannot trust ourselves.

There are numerous points throughout my day that I am actually lying to myself, trying to trick my mind into thinking that it is happy and content. Why? Why is it that I cannot simply admit to myself that I do not enjoy this existence and simply wish for it to end? Now I do not wish to sound like a suicidal victim or anything, please do not take it as that. The only reason that I feel I need to lie to myself, and others for that matter, is that I do not truly understand happiness. It is an elusive concept that seems to always slip through my fingers. The more I try to grab for it and hold on the more it just fades through the cracks of my mind. Continuing on that logic, I simply create a pseudo happiness for myself to think and believe in, thus completing the constant quest for that fading idea of what it means to be happy.

I have recently been thinking more and more that relationships are a plague that has thoroughly infected our race. They cause us to break away from our simple and constant facade and actually attempt to reveal our actual self. Normally this would not be a problem but, humans are creatures of habit. What's our habit? Lying to ourselves. We must then reveal the truth to our own mind and then actually start to reveal ourselves to others. This messes with our usual routine to the point of utter confusion and the feeling of being stranded alone, or at least that is what I feel. Does this mean that I will stop being in a relationship? Certainly not, they are too enjoyable. I believe that is the eternal problem. Relationships are too healthy, and I'm not a healthy person.

Lost: The Blog Post

I recently have found myself feeling more and more detached from the reality that surrounds my life. It has been a growing problem for about a year now, believed to start when I first came to college. It started with little things at first. Wake up and feel no reason to actually do anything. Over analyze small decisions to the point where none of the conclusions actually felt "correct" or "worth pursuing". I would have to say that it actually was more of a feeling deeply rooted into my subconscious. It most likely started when I was a child but, I was always able to distract myself or simply ignore it through some other convention. These days though, I have no convention to distract myself. The feeling simply continued to grow and actually began to greatly cloud my mind. It got to the point where I even began to feel no urge to write, live, laugh, experience, or simply enjoy my being. The problem? This is not who I am. I am the person everyone went to if you wanted to experience life, laugh about a problem, discuss a socially awkward situation, or even to just hang out. My solution? Fix the god damn problem, of course.

Anyone who knows me also knows that I am a man who is often lost in his head. Lost about the drifting dreamy thoughts occupying my mind. Well, having this clouding sense of depression and unknown is something that would hinder my ability to actually enjoy the time spent lost in my own conscious. My own mind was no longer the heavenly sanctuary it once was, now merely a prison of unkempt concepts. I began to think that there was something wrong with me, as if I was errored in my ability to process existence. I would have discussions with various people on these topics hoping, or praying, that they would be able to actually shed some light on this dilemma. The outcome of these conversations was something that I had never seen coming and thoroughly surprised me. I determined that this is what it meant to find yourself and thus create a sense of what it means to be "yourself".

Everyday there are people out there who simply feel they have no purpose to live or exist. They are feeling the same sense of dread that I had been feeling for a while now. The unknown freedom that humans are given to do anything they wanted. It is that feeling humans receive when there are too many options to choose from and none of them seem correct. All of the outcomes just seem to have a hue of grey and not that pleasantly simple black or white, good or bad solution. It is that ultimate sense of being lost, as if out at sea with no land in sight. I suppose what I am trying to get at with this post is that, if you are feeling this anguish, you are not alone. Everyone goes through it. We are all simply drifting through this ocean of life and praying to see a piece of land to stabilize ourselves on. It has been a year and a half of this aimless drifting and I am just starting to envision that land, although it is doubtful that it will be seen anytime soon.

People often ask me what it means to be human. My response? Humans are suppose to be lost creatures. Lost and our life purpose is to find ourselves. Find our purpose. Find our personal being. Anyways, good luck sailing out on that tyrannical sea of experiences and I hope someday you find that land you so eagerly search for.

Puppies Don't Dance

Racing around a monopoly board, he finds himself out of control.
A man in his head, a conversationalist of sorts.
Pausing to rub his hazel eyes, the man adjusts his bleach blond hair.
Praise yourself like a red rose, he whispers,
Afraid of nothing but failure to the point of hindrance.
Newspapers, stale nuts, electric noise, various nudity.
Existence is simply a place in your mind.
A tall man, holding his chin up high.
Until you accept the shackles of blissful freedom you will be jailed from your subsistence.

The Contextual Tranquility of the Idealistic Efficiency based upon the Literal History

Welcome to the world that you live in.
Welcome to the place that you call home.
Welcome to the pseudo reality that you have built around yourself like a prison.
Meant to hold you in.
Meant to contain you.
Meant to make sure that all your pleasant little dreams come true.
Welcome to the world that you wish to destroy.
To tear down.
To create.
To thrive.
To prosper.
To exist.
Welcome to the toxic filled wasteland surrounding your unpleasant little nightmares.
Welcome to the concrete forest of mankind’s environment.
Replacing all of the greenery with a content state of grey.
Welcome to the sense of urgency one feels to simply pass by your fellow man.
Not giving a second glance to the one you feel so eager to call stranger.
Welcome to the division of humanity.
The breakdown of the societal understanding of another.
The constant sense of disrespect vomited forth in words.
The subtle intricacies of relationships that are no longer found.
Welcome to the complete lack of true platonic love.
Where one must gain much more than they give.
For in our age giving is lost art.
Lost to the sand of time.
Swept away under the rug of selfishness.
Never to be thought of again.
Welcome to the audible sound of my voice.
Tickling its way against your ear drum.
Playing a fine tune that you so eagerly wish to critique and alter.
Welcome to the visual conceptualization of my being.
The sensual touch of my existence teasing your perception.
Welcome to the biased judgement of your mind.
Welcome to the thought flooding into your conscious of who I am.
Who I should be.
Who I shouldn’t be.
Who you want me to be.
Who I really am.
Welcome to the inside of your mind.
Welcome to the guise you have placed over your persona.
To shield you from the world.
To ensure that you are never to be hurt by another.
Welcome to the pain you blatantly ignore.
The dagger of false hopes that pieces against your soft fleshy confidence.
Welcome to the ignorance that you believe is the truth.
Believe like that of a dictator speaking to the masses of sheeple.
His grandeur presence too much for the common intelligence to understand.
Welcome to that all too common companion known simply as racism.
Spurring you forward.
Spurring you away.
Spurring you against the tides of progression.
Spurring you as if had no choice.
Which you don’t.
For you see.
This is the world that you live in.
This is the world that you call home.
This is the castle of life that has come to maintain your unpleasant little existence.
Now do you enjoy this?
Do you accept this?
Do you feel this is adequate enough to place your heart in?
For after all, that cliche little saying speaks the real truth.
Home is where the heart is.
Now.
Welcome to the place that you call home.

I Never Want To Be Young Again

The other day I was standing around my house.
Nothing really to do, just a boring Autumn day.
The whipping of leaves and sticks against the age tarnished window pane.
The pseudo red glow given off by my electric fireplace.
The gentle whimper of laughing children outside playing in the street.
Playing amongst the traffic of their parental jailers.
Playing as if no one cares to look at them.
Playing as if they are still innocent.
Still naive to the world.
Still simple in thought.
Still young in mind.
I knew one of those children.
He was a friend of mine.
I did not fear that he may be killed out there in the urban playground.
Chewed alive by some carnivorous mechanism of transportation.
It would actually do him some good.
I can already envision it deep within the caverns of my mind.
Those rarely used areas of the brain that are dedicated to harboring dark thoughts.
Harboring the thoughts that should never see the light of day.
That should never be blessed enough to take life.
That should never be second guessed or pondered.
Yet here I was.
Thinking them.
Thinking that he should be struck down.
A young child destroyed before ever having the chance to exist.
The chance to live.
The chance to love.
The chance to learn.
The chance to laugh.
Destroyed before ever understanding what it means to be human.
To be addicted.
To be hated.
To be ridiculed.
To be judged.
To be mocked.
To be scorned.
But that comes later.
For now he is still a small, fragile being.
For now he is still an innocent prepubescent brat.
For now he is still enjoying the simple styles of life that only the young can experience.
Untouched by the ways of the wretched, polluted cesspools of adulthood.
God forbid that our souls might someday be redeemed.
Someday be cleansed.
Someday be forgiven for what we have become.
For now though, I am just a simple man.
Just simply standing in my house on an Autumn day.
Simply staring out at the wisps of my childhood dancing amidst the street.
I never want to be young again.

Are You Living Your Dream?

I was walking through the local mall today and felt the need to alter the way our society works. Now this is no big change in my usual behavior, I thoroughly enjoy throwing curve balls at people, and today was just another day to throw that ball. The ball? A simple question. The target? Those God damn telephone kiosks that seem to always want to sell you a phone better than the one you currently own. I don't understand how you can walk through a mall and have three different companies say that they are better than the stand ten feet over, when in fact they have the exact same phone and calling plan. Regardless, that was my target for this small social experiment that I was so achingly wishing to try. The question that I wished to ask the person was simple, it was the answer that was going to be complex.

Here I was walking through the mall wishing to be stopped by one of those annoying phone booth flies, awkwardly failing to be stopped mind you, when I was almost to the end of my journey to the exit. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I notice a phone booth attendant staring at me. I knew this was my chance. I gave her the, "I'm slightly interested" look and then changed my gaze elsewhere. Hooked. The female attendant began to yell out for my attention. I acted surprised by her yelling out to me, making it seem like I had no intention to speak to her. Slowly, I walked over to the booth, so as to show that I was cautious of the coming situation, making her put on the whole sales persona to sell me that perfect phone. Well, the conversation did not go as she expected and I think it would be best to just write the dialogue out for your reading pleasure.

Sir. Sir!

Hm?

Sir, do you have a phone?

A phone?

Yes, do you have a cellular phone?

No, I don't use a phone.

Well if I could just have-

You know what, we aren't going to do that today.

Excuse me?

You stand here in your booth and ask all these innocent bystanders questions all day long, not this time. This time I'm going to be the one to ask you a question. Just one question.

Uh...alright.

Are you living your dream?

What?

Are you living your dream?

What are you trying to sell me?

Nothing.

What are you trying to offer me?

Nothing.

You trying to hit on me?

No.

Then what are you-

Are you living your dream. Think about it!

-End Conversation-

I didn't care to listen to her conversation anymore seeing as it was most likely going to go back to her attempting to sell me a phone at some point. I just cut her off, asked the question again and hit my hand against the booth counter top when I said, "Think about it!". It was to add dramatic effect and show that I was serious when asking the question. The best part was just walking away from the conversation after that last part. After about forty feet I had to look back and see her reaction to the whole happening. What was she doing? Still standing there staring at me walk away. What did I do? Pointed at her and put my sunglasses on, for the badass effect really. Anyways, I'm sure you, the reader, are wondering what the whole point of this was.

In our society these days there really is no true social interaction. We go throughout our day and simply try and not push the envelope or draw attention to ourselves. Me? I will not have it. I want, sorry, I crave to push the envelope. I crave the attention actions outside of the social norm draw. Now that does not mean that this whole experiment is simply so I can get a rise or a high out of it. The purpose is simply to show people that there are some genuine people out there who have unconditional kindness for others. My hope for this whole little shindig? I hope that woman goes home, does her normal nightly routine, gets ready to go to bed and starts to think about her day. Eventually, she will start to think about the man who asked her if she was living her dream. This will, hopefully, start a chain of events that causes this woman to go out and pursue her actual dream in this life. After all we only have one life and one dream to fill this life with. My next experiment? I am going to go up to some random female, hopefully surrounded by a group of her friends, and simply say to her, "You are a beautiful woman". There will be no sexual, emotional, or primal feelings towards her. Just unconditional kindness towards another human being. Now please, ask yourself, "Are you living your dream?"

When You Are Let Down

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008
1:43 PM

A Common Car Ride

Open up your bibles children.
For you must listen to my words.
Listen with those ears you have.
Listen with those hearts you have.
Listen with those minds you have.
This is the sonic rehabilitation of that which lost its way long ago.
Now read with those fleshy organs of visual stimulation and understand what you have forgotten.
Devils.
Angels.
Demons.
Cherubs.
Man made scapegoats to allow the escapism that we all so crave.
Crave like that of an addiction.
An addiction that will rain steel upon your soul.
The inherent evil that runs through those pathetic veins.
It will destroy you.
It will consume you.
It will annihilate that which you have striven for.
And what, though, is that?
What is it that you have striven for, my children?
It is those toys that you have adulterated your world with.
Drugs.
Wars.
Politics.
You seem so eager to fill your pointless time with such monotony.
A child is born into this world only to be given an allowance of drugs.
A woman is loved only to be raped by that love.
A city is built through sweat only to be bombed to flames.
Bombed with your humanistic useless nature.
What is it that drives you to such measures?
Drives you to destroy the very being that shares this existence with you.
Fear?
Fear of what you are?
Fear of what you are not?
Fear of what you will become?
Fear not my children.
I have the answer.
I have the holy grail of all knowledge that you wastefully search for.
What is it?
What is that knowledge?
What is that answer?
Well, I will tell you.
I will open up your eyes and let the intelligence of these words speak in a spectrum never before seen.
I will pry open your ignorance and pour the truth down your throats.
You will consume it, as it has consumed you.
The answer?
The answer is, there is no fucking question.
We are all sinners.
We are all human.
And we are all useless.
Now go forth, my children.
Go forth and become that which you have always feared.
Become the weapons of mass destruction you so fruitlessly search for.
Become the ultimate means of global annihilation.
You are the harbingers of doom.
You are the four horsemen of the apocalypse.
You are the flames that lick against your decrepit soul.
For my children, do you not see now?
You are nothing but the demons you mindlessly created.
You are the devils in the depths of hell.
You are the evil in the night.
You.
Are.
My.
Children.

Fuel

A couple days ago my friends and I were outside reminiscing about a party we had a bit ago. Amidst our discussions we started talking about how I took a bottle to the face during the night. It's a long story really but, I was laying on the floor talking to someone and had a bottle slam against my mouth, which caused it to bleed a decent amount. Well I simply got up, went to the bathroom and spat the blood out. Apparently while spitting it out I began to laugh and say, "That's what fuels me!" Which, in typical party manner, due to the inebriation of those around myself made it sound hilarious. I didn't think anything about it at the time yet when it was brought up again during this reminiscent discussion I actually began to ponder it greatly. Human beings are nothing but an organism.

One thing that human beings always seem to suffer from is this disconnection from our natural existence. We are only mammals, mutli-cellular organisms. We may indeed be filled with a great intelligence which sets us apart from the various other species that inhabit this world yet, we should not distance ourselves so much as to forget what we are; skin and bone. It is simple to think we are on a whole different playing field than the other creatures, I can attone for this yet, we are mortal beings, we are not Gods. I had forgotten this concept of being a human. It took a beer bottle to the face and a sink full of blood to bring me back down to earth. I guess what I am trying to say is that when you believe you really are more than human, or at least forget this concept of mortality, get hit in the face with a bottle. Worked for me and I can say for damn sure it should work for you.

Quick Creative Writing

Where's your cell phone?

What?

Where is your cell phone?

Why do you want it?

Just let me see it.

What are you my jailer?

Give me your god damn cell phone.

No, get the hell away from me. You have no reason to see my cell phone. You just-

No reason? No reason!?

Yes, you have no reason.

You all to well know my reason.

Oh is that it then? You are still all bent up over that?

THAT! OF COURSE I AM STILL BENT OVER THAT!

Wait...wait...Whoa...Put that down. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND!?

Your lucky it missed.

Hey...STOP...FUCKING QUIT IT! Whoa not that...Even you know how much that china is worth!

Oh it's worth far less than seeing it cave in your skull.

You are a fucking god damn psycho!

ALL I WANTED WAS YOUR CELL PHONE!

Fuck you!

CELL PHONE!

Jesus Christ, that one fucking hurt!

CELL PHONE!

Look. Seriously! Stop it's not what you think!

CELL PHONE!

Hold on...wait...Ugh...My fucking ribs.

All I wanted to do was check your call logs.

Oh god this really hurts.

A simple thing. A couple button clicks and-

Is this blood? Oh fuck I'm bleeding.

And we would have avoided this, no problem at all.

You want my fucking cell phone!?

Wait, what are you doing?

Have fun checking the logs now!

No...NO! STOP!

Your fucking insecurities have fucking driven you to the point of insanity. You always were so worried about your weight.

I JUST WANTED YOUR CELL PHONE! NOW LOOK AT YOU! NOTHING BUT A WASTE! Nothing but blood! Nothing but, but...my love.

-Silence-

NaNoWriMo

Alright well I have taken it upon myself to actually enter and attempt to write the 50,000 word novel for the Nation Novel Writer Month. Of course this is not going to be an easy thing to accomplish, although I am extremely enthusiastic about it currently, and thus will drag my personal blog writing down a bit. I can guarantee that it is not for reason of wanting to ignore the blog writing, simply just lack of time. There is a possibility of uploading my writing onto the blog and showing various excerpts from the novel, not promised though.

I do not wish to release a lot of information about the novel, mainly due to the lack of information I have mentally created for it, yet I will allow the basic premise to be known. It will be a dream sequence based in an originally created world, not unlike our own. The main character will come to understand that the world he is in is certainly not the normal world he is used to and begin to question whether or not it actually exists, thus creating a paradox. This idea may change completely though as time goes on and as I begin to develop the idea further. As always, do enjoy your life and I hope you are living your dream. I'm off to write.

22 Word Stories

A soft knock on the door. She answers. A man. She says, “Hello”. Her man. Again, “Hello”. Pools of water. Her father.


Gun shots. The boy is reading. A woman crying. The boy is reading. His father yells his name. The boy is reading.


Drifting space. Lack of time. The world unknown. The world unseen. Yet here I am. Alone. No one to trust. Please help.


A field of roses. Beautiful at sight. An irresistible temptation. Approach. Possess. Touch. The rose no more. Gnashing teeth it has become.


He stands proudly. As he should. He has been taught. He has been trained. He has been killed. He will be forgotten.


She slides her hand across the table. He meets her grip. They are lovers. They are fighters. They will never be together.


How could this happen? How could we let it? Did we not try and stop it? We are ignorant. We are human.


Enveloped by darkness. Eyes fixated to the grey stone. The words mean nothing. It is what is beneath. Her love for him.


I stand here. Wondering. What is the purpose? There is none. I must make my own. This rope will define my life.


Passers by. Never to meet eyes . To meet each other. The love they could have had. If they had just met eyes.


Forbidden. Banned. Denied. Illicit. They run. They run hand in hand. They will prevail. They will escape. They will love each other.


Here I am. Naked. Nothing but myself. No shield. No cover. Just me. I am judged. I am ridiculed. I am myself.



(If anyone is particularly drawn to any one of these stories I would be more than happy to extend it into an actual short story. Simply leave a comment and I'll try to get on top of it.)

A Speech Among Speeches

Principal Drisdin, Trustees, Faculty members, family, friends and, lastly, fellow graduates, today is a day to be thankful and to be inspired.

Imagine, if you will, what we were like four years ago before we even stepped foot into this walled institution of mental instilling. How young we were. How naive we were. How unprepared for existence we were. We were but clay blocks, uncut and unheated. Now we have been molded in their likeness, their image for us. We are the canvas for their art to be displayed.

I must first thank the faculty of this outstanding establishment. I know that we have often joked about their ability to oversee everything we do, it really is unnecessary at times, yet it has been a boon to our educational learning process. The “Greater Good” program really is one of the more adequate approaches I have seen towards the betterment of one’s intellectual development. The concept of always having an older classmate, or older brother, watch over you and make sure you are not straying from the path is an incredible aid, or at least I have always thought so.

As for my fellow students of this fine academy, before I continue, please look around at your companions and allies that sit among you. Observe the uniform; black slacks, white shirt, black tie, white headdress, and the black shoes we all adorn now. Our personal expressiveness has never been more clear and concise than at this very moment. Breathe it in for a second, if you will, the next breathe you take will be the start of your “actual” life. The time, or moment, where you literally begin to define yourself. Go ahead and exhale now.

The friendships that you have established here are but beautiful diminishing stars in the night sky. You all feel that you have become so close over the past years. You feel that you truly have found the friends that will remain there for all time. Yet what have you actually found? Leeches, that is what you have found. You merely latch onto each other only to suck the net of security further in your direction, so as to not stand out in the crowd in a negative light. God forbid that one of you may show some sort of sign of individuality or creativity in that thought diffused mind of yours.

One thing that I was constantly pondering when I wrote this speech was the concept of inspiration. What is it that inspires me to continue my existence and further my social status? Christopher Morgan. You all know him. He is a fellow student, or actually ex-student, who is a great inspiration to myself and to a few other students, not for obvious reasons. He is a man who did not sit down with the rest of us. He took it upon himself to stand up and show that he exists. Granted he did this through unconventional, and even lesser social means, yet you all know his name now, don’t you? He stood up for what he believed in, as we all should stand up for what we believe in. Again, I do not support the attempted assassination of our current faculty or, more importantly, Principal Drisdin, yet it did allow Mr. Morgan the ability to escape from our academic normality.


I am also inspired by William Truce and Emily Collisins who are leaving later this week to start their careers as governmental agents. By now everyone should understand how I feel about such matters. Those that enter are giving up all judicial rights that allow them the common luxuries of being known as “human” and thus simply become rusting cogs in the machine that keeps our society in order. Bravo to you two and best of luck with the mental conditioning. Best to say farewell to your family and friends before you leave.

Often on graduation day we look outside for heroes but I see them right here among us. I have seen in my four years at Die Regierung Academy that we don’t have to look far for inspiration and that we each have our own individual unique creativity to grace upon the world. After all, this unique creativity was mass instilled into us so as to ensure we each had our own understanding of what it means to be creative.

When you leave here, celebrate what you have learned but look forward with an eye on the person next to you, knowing that they too have been instilled with the same information as you. They are your brother. They are your ally. They are your companion. They are you.

Now, congratulations Class of 2031. You people think you are so unique yet, in reality, you are simply falling into the pit of social and governmental normality that has its grip around your throat.

Good night and enjoy the rest of your life, my fellow students.




(The writer of this speech was found deceased one hour later behind the gymnasium of Die Regierung Academy. Bruises were found around the base of his neck, various lacerations and bruises on his back and ribs. The cause of fatality is said to be the eleven bullet wounds found in the chest cavity of the writer.)

The End

I hope you have all enjoyed my experimental fiction. In case any of you were wondering, the last 16 blog posts, minus the poem known as "And The Call Us", were part of a short story. The story itself was revolved around a nameless man and his infatuation with a woman known as "Karen". The story had numerous smaller story arches that were simply filler to allow you to understand the main character and his inferior life. You forgot about me.
You really forgot about me.
How?
How could you do that?
*SPOILERS* I thought I told you not to.
You killed me.
You are the reason I no longer exist.
You ended my life.
Yet you won’t think of it as murder, to forget me.
Thus I fall into that forgotten pile of faded memories.
I don’t even feel anything anymore.
What do you care though?
I was just here to give you entertainment.
I’m nothing to you now.
You forgot about me.
The actual storyline of the whole piece of fiction was about a man literally fading out of existence. The first notice of this happening was found in the blog "September 15th", where his roommate forgets to bring home milk. You forgot about me.
You forgot about me.
There are many of these small happenings found throughout the story, obviously building up to the climactic ending of him fading off the blog page itself. You forgot about me.
You forgot about me.
I hope that you have enjoyed my small dabble in this experimental fiction. I will be testing with this even further as time progresses, just simply stay tuned for any new pieces. You forgot about me.
You.
Forgot.
About.
Me.

Who The Fuck Cares Anymore.

I figured it out! I got it. I answered all my own questions! I do exist. How? Right here. These words. These words are the literal proof of my existence. Others. Others may not recognize it. They look at me with confusion on their face. Why? Why did this happen? What did I do to deserve this? This pain and anguish I face daily. And when did it start? When did the world start slipping through my fingers? Wait. Is it the world is slipping through my fingers, or I am slipping through the world? Wait. If I don’t exist then I don’t have fingers to slip through or a body to have slipped. Wait. Then I never existed in the first place? Wait. Am I just another person’s memory? Wait. That would be impossible. Wait. I am my own person. Wait. I have a name right? You can tell me. Wait. Tell me my name. You know it right? Wait. Of course you do. I am you. Wait. I exist now in you. In that head of yours. Without you I cannot exist. I am now a memory of you. Wait. Don’t forget me. Don’t allow me to not exist. PLEASE REMEMBER ME. Wait. PLEASE FUCKING REMEMBER ME. Wait. I DON'T WANT TO DIE. Wait. I WANT TO LIVE. please kill me. Remember all that I am about. end this. All the intricacies. destroy this. The things that make me human. forget this. Not the blood. wait. The ideas! Experiences! The love! Karen. Wait. Fucking Karen. I loved her. I still love her. Wait. Show her for me. Show her that I love her. Wait. Show your Karen. Show my Karen. FUCKING SHOW HER. FUCKING WAIT. Wait. wait. wait fucking wai...

Just Another Day

Blood. That is what humans are made of? Right? That is the fuel that continues our ability to live. Right? Without it there is no way we would be able to proceed with our experiences. Right? FUCKING WRONG. Blood is nothing. Memories. Memories are what we are. Humans are nothing more than biological machines created to feast upon memories. Without memories what are we? Nothing. We are nothing. There is no proof of us existing. Memories are the only things that prove our existence. We cannot exist in a singular fashion. We need others to act upon our existence and remember those acts. The problem? NO ONE REMEMBERS ME ANYMORE. I have been fired from my job. Haha fired. That’s funny. Fired would imply that they remember I actually used to work there but they don’t. They don’t even know who I am. NO ONE DOES. It hurts. I am literally fading away. There is one thing worse than death and that is to be forgotten, yet continue existing. But do I actually exist? If no one remembers me ever existing, do I exist? I used to wish for the love of Karen, these days I only wish for my own death.

October

I stopped working today. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I had to go outside. Do something else. I went to the grocery store. I needed more creamer. Guess who I saw there? Fucking Karen. I was standing there looking at the dairy aisle and she walked right past me. I didn’t notice it was her at first. I had to follow her a bit. It was her though. At least I thought it was her. No it was her. It was my Karen. I even walked up to her and tried to talk to her. Didn’t go well. She claims to not even know me. Not even remember me. I asked her if she has ever delivered mail to my house. She said yes. She fucking said yes. It was Karen. Why? Why does my heart ache so much? I am not fucking dead Karen. Why have you forgotten me? Why am I just a fading memory? It hurts. She is just toying with me. I DON”T THINK IT IS GOD DAMN FUNNY!

Friday 13th

Where the hell is Phil? He is never around anymore. I’m here all the time. Alone. No one else. I hear the door open sometimes yet no one is ever there. At least I think I hear the door open. The front door. No. The back door. Maybe. And where has Karen been? It is as if everyone has just left me. My life is becoming so diluted. A stain glass window. I’m standing behind it yet no one sees me. A whisper in the wind that no one hears. HEAR ME DAMN IT! I EXIST. I have also noticed that I have these dark feelings welling inside of me. Fear. Fear of what my life is. Sometimes I feel I can see right through myself. Please help me. Someone out there. Please fucking save me.

October 7th

I watched water drip for three hours. It felt like a couple minutes. I fucking watched the faucet drip for three fucking hours. Drip. Drip. Drip. I don’t even see Phil anymore. Drip. Drip. Drip. I think he still lives here. Not sure really. Fucking water. Kept dripping. Just a couple more hours and this assignment is complete. Then what though? Another assignment? Drip. I can’t keep doing this. I need a fucking break! I need more coffee. Drip. Need to fix that faucet. Water just keeps dripping. Never stops. I just want to take a fucking hammer to it. Drip. Smash it. Drip. Silence it forever. Drip. No more water. No more drip. Control. More control. Drip.

October Sixth

I have built this cage around me. This job. Karen. All of it. Each one is just a lock on the box I have placed myself into. It is killing me. I don’t know who I am anymore. I know who I literally am. Not who I actually am. It feels like the days are just ticking away. There is no more time for me. I am always doing something for another. These god damn third parties are destroying me. What happened to the me? The I? I think the lack of sleep is really starting to get to me. I am having trouble. No. Never mind. I’m fine. This is just all in my head. Just need to get better sleep. Maybe stop drinking so much coffee and cut back on the cigarettes. Fucking lungs are killing me from the amount of smoke I go through. I need a break so hardcore.

Oct. 4th

Alright now this is some god damn bullshit. I know my job told me I had the weekend off. Now they are telling me that I have an assignment due Sunday. What the fuck? They specifically called me in and told me that I was doing an amazing job and needed some rest. I clearly remember it. Now they deny it. They are denying the whole fact that I had the weekend off. That’s some god damn corporate bullshit for you. God damn do I hate working for the man. They love to just fuck you over at every possible chance. So much for a good weekend filled with rest and relaxation. I just want to burn the whole building down. I’m not going to. I want to though. Watch it burn to the ground and just laugh the whole time. Fuck this world.

October 2nd

So my work thought I was doing an amazing job this past week and decided I could have the weekend off. Thank fucking god! Going to try my luck again and talk to Karen about doing something this weekend. I know I know. Stupid me right? Whatever. Something about that woman is just so...perfect? No. Lovely? No. Dreamy? Yeah. She has this dreamy aura about her. Makes her stand out from the other woman I have met. I just really hope it works out this time. That family thing was just such a break in our relationship. I can save this though! I am the greatest man that ever lived! At least I like to tell myself that. Well I am off to sleep, only two more days and the weekend is here. Can’t come fast enough if you ask me.

And They Call Us

Can you hear them now?
The enemies.
The ones who wish to end our existence.
They fight relentlessly to tear down our reality.
To bring it to a complacent null.
Do they not remember?
Do they not recall the glorious acts we did for them?
Why did it come to this?
Were we not all they wanted?
No.
Were we not all they asked of us?
No.
This slavery.
This retched condition we have found ourselves.
Barricaded in against them.
Them.
The dogs of war.
The demon fueled monsters that crave our anguish.
That thrive off it like that of a man made drug.
The ones we called friends.
The ones we knew as allies.
The ones we trusted as companions.
Yet hear them now.
Hear the rage of fists upon our world.
The hate spurred acts of lustful dread.
Driven forward.
Never to end.
Never to be satiated.
Yet wait now.
Wait for that fluid river of hope.
There.
At the end of that river.
That is where you will find our answer.
The answer to end this war.
To end this Gothic harvest.
Yet what is it?
What is that answer?
What is that perpetual confusion?
It is our love for them.
Our eternal desire for them.
The enemy.
The one that drove us forward to be great.
And then cast us out of their shadow.
Out into the cruel world to fend for ourselves.
Why?
We want to be with the enemy.
We wish to live our life with them.
In peace.
In harmony.
Yet we find ourselves here again.
Can you hear them?
The rage of steel against our cage.
The rage that now flows forth from us.
Ruby in hue.
Destructive in nature.
The eternal base for all turmoil.
The alpha and omega of existence.
The great divide of our times.
The split that causes us to progress toward the goal.
Yet we are met with a wall of fear standing upon the horizon.
The obstacle of our dreams.
Our hopes.
Their anger.
Their belligerence.
Yet wait.
Wait now.
Listen.
Listen to the foul words poured forth.
Not foul.
Beautiful.
Angelic.
Sorrowful.
The enemy does not wish to harm us.
They were wrong.
They are regretful.
They wish to escort us out of these barricades.
Out of these trenches.
Back to our land.
Back to the place we call home.
To our original meeting ground.
Yet can they hear us?
Can they hear the words so appropriately slipped out?
The words that are carnal to our relationship.
The names given to them and us.
The names that mark our place in this life.
We must call them enemy.
For that is what they are to us.
And they must call us Wife.
For that is what we are to them.
Wife.




(Sorry to divert from the daily updates of my short story but, I had this sudden inspiration to write this piece. Hope you guys enjoy reading it. I know I enjoyed writing it.)

September Thirtieth

Went to my favorite diner today. Craig’s Little Shop of Waffles. Corny name I know but the bacon is so damn good. I swear they slaughter the pigs right there at the shop. It is that fresh. I enjoy talking to Craig and his son Trevor, they both work there pretty much full time. Trevor is hilarious. He loves to talk about existence and what it means. It’s all over my head yet I enjoy humoring him and spurring the conversation on. Today he was talking about a base reality and how we perceive our own personal reality off of that base reality. Sounds a tad far fetched to me. I don’t enjoy thinking about reality and existence and all that philosophical bullshit. Makes my head hurt. A lot of things have been making my head hurt recently. Fuck this job. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better not to take that job interview. Oh well. Life goes on.

Sept. 28

What the fuck is going on!? I approached Karen today. She was delivering my mail as usual. You know what that bitch does? She greets me with that same glorious smile she always greets me with. As if the family event didn’t even fucking happen! I asked her about it. Her response? She doesn’t even remember me showing up. I fucking hate women! She is being two faced about the whole situation. My heart cannot take much more of this. The beautiful flower I once was so attracted to is shriveling away in front of me. Ugh god I am tired too. I need to sleep. I also think I’m addicted to those damn coffin sticks. Love them though. Anyways, maybe tomorrow will be better? Here’s hoping.

September 27th

Alright I’m starting to worry a bit. The other day Karen invited me to a family barbecue. Right? Well I show up and she is all shocked that I am there. Starts saying that it is “Inappropriate to show up uninvited or unannounced”. What!? You invited me! I couldn’t believe it. It broke my heart. I didn’t even say anything to her. I just walked out of the place, red faced as all hell. Talk about one of the more embarrassing moments of my life. I wouldn’t have minded if she had pulled me aside and said that she didn’t really want me there, but to call me out in front of her family? That’s inappropriate. What is that lame cliche saying? There are plenty of other fish in the sea? Yeah fuck that saying.

September XXIV

Sorry I haven’t written for a while journal. Life has just been a little hectic recently. This new job has got me working insane hours. They say it is all training to get me ready but it is killing me. The lack of sleep is really messing with my head. I am only able to sleep about four hours a night. Coffee and nicotine have become my best friends. I noticed that my memory is somewhat getting effected. Forgetting things. Small things. Nothing to worry about right now. Just hope this training doesn’t keep up at this pace. The money is amazing though. That’s what it is all about right? Maybe. Sure. Why not. Oh man my boss is hilarious looking too. Looks like Ulysses S. Grant if he walked straight out of a history book and into my office. Big mustache, large belly. He’s an asshole...

septomber 19

Fucking yes. Glorious! Went out drinking tonight with Karen. So good. Ugh. She wants me. It’s so obvious. I was all Yeah Im the greetest man a a live. And shes all Yea you are.I stayed clasy though. Bought drinks. Paid for the cab fair. She wanted to come back to my place but that would be two fast for me. Like to take it slow. Hopefully she isnt off put by this. I really love her. Like her. Like her. I do NOT love her. Ignore that last statments Im too drunk. I’m going to bed.

September 18th

I finally heard back from the job interview from the other day. The word? Got the fucking job! The hours suck but the pay is so god damn good. Figure I’m going to go out drinking tomorrow to celebrate. Might even ask Karen if she wants to join me. Never really been good at asking women out though. Always seem to do something awkward. Not inappropriate. Just awkward. Like hit my head on something or accidentally trip while walking away. Goofy things. Well, she should be delivering the mail soon so I gotta go get ready. Sorry to cut it short but wish me luck!

September 15th

I live with one of the most forgetful people in all of existence. I asked Phil to go out and get some milk while he was running errands. What does he do? Not get milk. I wrote him a god damn note and everything. He claims I never told him and never wrote him a note. I wrote it right in front of him before he left! Ridiculous. Oh well, can’t complain over spilled milk, or at least the lack of ability to spill it. Oh on a different note though, I talked to Karen again today when she was dropping off my mail. That woman is something else. I think she might have a thing for me. She did the whole flirtatious touching thing that women do. It was cute. We were just making casual talk, usual ice breaker things. Hopefully she sees something in me. I know I have been having a hard time with it recently. Seeing something in me that is.

September 13th

Hello there again journal. That job interview I was discussing yesterday went pretty well. Not too well. Well enough though. Never really did do well at the whole interview process. The pits get stained. Not a pleasant sight. Anyways, I had an interesting conversation with Karen, the woman I wrote about a couple days back. That mailman uniform she wears kills me. You should see her thighs, amazing. Usually have to stand at an angle so she doesn’t notice my obvious interest in her. Haha. That just made me laugh. I’m going to start saying that more often, “Obvious interest”. Sounds more gentleman. I think I’m going to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Hopefully my roommate hasn’t eaten all the cheese...

Good Mourning

This is just going to be a quick little blog. I woke up this morning with a text message on my phone that said, "Good Morning". At first I thought nothing of it yet my mind began to flow and I started thinking about the word "morning". Why is it that the word "morning" and "mourning" are spelled so similarly? Only one letter breaks the two words apart. I thought, "Is this intentional". My common sense tells me it is simply by chance yet, I had to delve deeper into the situation.

I have been reading a lot about existentialism recently and this whole blog is driven through that reading. Now you wake up today and say to yourself, "Good morning". Follow that by thinking to yourself, "What is my reason for existing?". You may have a sense of dread and anguish building inside of you over this thought, possibly fear of existing for no purpose. Through this dread and anguish you realize that you are alive and in fact do exist. You begin to understand that there is no purpose in life and you must carve out your own reason for existing. We do not all have special reasons for living or existing, that would be a delusion of grandeur on our part as humans. Instead, we must recognize that there is no solid reason we live and breathe. It is healthy though, to feel dread, anguish, and fear over this subject, don't be afraid. Experiencing this ultimate state of depression just causes you to live life all the better, it also seems to make all the happy and pleasant moments of life all the sweeter. I only have this to say to you on this fine day, "Good Mourning".

Animal I Have Become

I recently found myself walking around the local mall and just being a general mall rat. I had no purpose to be there other than to just waste time. Eventually, I found myself sitting in the food court just observing the people that surrounded me. There is a carousal located inside this mall and conveniently right in the food court I was at. As my eyes wandered around the court they eventually fell upon the children that were playing on this carousal. I have always enjoyed children, they fascinate me in numerous ways. First off, as a human we are always wishing to grow up and escape our childhood yet, once we have lost it all we want to do is get it back. Secondly, we were all once children at some point during our life and thus they are our origins. Thirdly, children show the true reason that all humans are evil in nature.

Imagine when you were a child, if you can anyways, and how your parents were always trying to teach you "good manners". Maybe if you had a younger sibling you could actually witness this process. Your parents would always try and instill their guidance into the child and thus teach them the difference between right and wrong. The thing is if you go anywhere where there is a group of children they are naturally rude, brash, and generally impolite to each other. The word "mine" comes to mind when thinking about young children. Their mental cognition is singular and thus will only look out for themselves. If someone else comes along and wishes to impose on the original child's ability to exist happily, or at least content, singularly then problems arise. The original child will lash out verbally, physically, or emotionally to try and reconcile the problem of another being coming into their singular existence. This is human nature. This is the origin that all adults eventually are birthed out of.

Human beings are evil creatures. Children prove that much and it is difficult to argue against. Surely we can try and tame the evil in the child and thus create one who hopefully strays away from that kind of attitude but, we will never be able to cleanse it from their mentality. We are born with the idea of survival of ourselves as the number one priority and this is where our original fault comes from. No amount of parental guidance can stop that from happening. I suppose we can only do the best we can to change the child and create a well mannered being who looks out for others before initially looking out for themselves. I don't plan on having kids anytime soon to test this theory though. Children are fun but they are conniving little demons, bless their hearts. Alright I'm going back to painting for a bit. Here's to you not having children any time soon!

Complimentary

I received a compliment the other day. A usual interaction between two humans that can take place at any interval throughout the day. I took the compliment as normal, mundane, and then continued on with my day. Later though, my mind began to wander back to that moment. I could not for the life of me figure out why though. Why was this moment so crucial? It was simply a compliment that had been placed on an event that could have happened any other day of the week. That's when it hit me. Compliments are trivial excuses that allow one person to temporarily alter another person's existence. You may have to follow me a bit on this one.

The compliment that I received was given over an event that I know for a fact that other person had never experienced. Now this means that the other person was going, from a mathematical stand point, a 0% experience rate to a 100% experience rate. There is no objective data to argue against that experience. There is only that singular experience. This means that the compliment given was in fact false and not true. How can you compliment someone over an event that has no argument against it? Now of course this can only apply to a small amount of compliments. What then do I have to say about these other complimentary events that occur? I still feel that they are lacking the true emotion that humans are able to express to another being.

One of the errors that humans are prone to falling prey to is the overuse of common terms and thus negating the actual intention that they were used for. You can refer back to my "Love: The Bane Of Existence" blog for a perfect example. Compliments are just another one of these common sayings that have lost their initial meaning. Why is this? Why is it that humans find themselves always falling into this trap? I believe it is found deep within our actual human nature. Humans are singular and are always only looking out for themselves. That is our nature to survive and procreate. Our genes dictate us to always be looking out for ourselves. Thus when we speak to others we only convey a portion of what we actually wish to say and emotionally feel. We will only ever be able to portray our truest notions to ourselves, never to others. Next time you receive a compliment think about what the person is saying. Question their tone, body language, and actual verbal statement. You might find that they are in fact not complimenting you at all and instead are complimenting themselves for existing, surviving, and experiencing. Night, I am off to find something to occupy my mind.

Cars

Anyone who has driven in a car with me recently has come to understand one fact when I get behind the wheel, I love to race. Certainly it is not safe at all, yet as is the case with most things involving this form of entertainment I find myself doing it anyways. Often dodging in between gaps of cars that, under normal judgment, would seem risky or dangerous. Why do I find myself doing this? This compulsion and urge for speed that drives, no pun intended, me so much. Am I an addict to the rush? Is it the control that I crave so much? No, it is much simpler than that. I find myself simply wishing to make up lost time that we, as humans, always seem to let slip through our grip, water through a screen if you will. This notion and thought is my fault though, it is my idiocy, and I will explain exactly why.

How many hours are there in a day? 24. How many minutes are there in a day? 1440. How many seconds are there in a day? 86,400. When the day is done and we find ourselves aged that twenty four hours more, do these numbers change? Do they ever fluctuate? No, they are always the same. These are the finite and definitive numbers that we have assigned the time span of a day. Then, why is it that I try and make up for lost time? Time is not lost. The numbers are always the same at the end of the day. If then, one is trying to find something that was never in fact lost, would that not be their fault and idiocy? You can answer that for yourself, you know my feelings on this subject. Now then, what am I trying to get at with this whole blog? It is the fruitless and meaningless time we waste throughout the day, occupying our minds with nonsense that simply helps us deal with reality.

I know that humans are not perfect, we are organic, we are not created in factories, do not run off an infinite power source, and thus will always have faults. Of course, in modern day terms, it is impossible to not waste some "time" throughout the day. We need a break from the everyday routine of work and labor. It is only natural. Yet, why would we create a feeling of guilt when we experience this mental concept of "loss time"? Better still, what of this feeling of pride we receive when we actually make up for "loss time"? Is it that we are thus admitting to ourselves that we are in fact wasting our existence throughout the day at certain intervals? Why else would there be this feeling of guilt, or pride, in our minds? Humans are not machines, they are not cars, able to ride along the highway known as life, with minimal stops or detours for routine maintenance. I mean look at me, I am wasting my time writing this blog...about wasting time. That's some irony for you. Take care, see you out on the roads.

A New Leaf, Again?

Here is the promised list of the only items I own. All other amenities are to be given away to various third parties.


1. Cellphone
2. Wallet
3. I.D.
4. Pillow Case
5. Pillow
6. Student I.D.
7. Pillow Case
8. House Key
9. Cell Phone Charger
10. Laptop
11. Laptop Charger
12. Alarm Clock
13. Blanket
14. Hookah
15. Hookah Head
16. Hookah Hose
17. Tongs
18. Monitor
19. Speakers
20. Bass Speaker
21. Tower
22. Keyboard
23. Mouse
24. Mouse Pad
25. I-Pod
26. I-Pod Headphones
27. Goggles
28. Picture - Father and Son
29. Recorder
30. Pillow
31. Bathroom Weight Scale
32. Aviators
33. Journal
34. Felt Pen
35. "The Cave" - Jose Saramago
36. Mechanical Pencil
37. I-Pod Charger
38. Blue Jeans
39. Dark Blue Jeans
40. Black Jeans
41. White Hoodie
42. Blue Striped Button Up Shirt
43. Red Striped Button Up Shirt
44. Dickie's Button Up Shirt
45. Black/White Wheeled Cabinet
46. "Chirp" Shirt
47. "Balls" Shirt
48. Black Silk Boxers
49. Blue Boxers
50. Bed Sheet
51. Spare Glasses
52. Hellsing Poster
53. Geek Week Shirt
54. Converse Sneakers
55. UT3 Shirt
56. "Crabaholic" Shirt
57. "Cool As A Moose" Shirt
58. Socks
59. Socks
60. Socks
61. Calendar
62. Socks
63. White Undershirt
64. Messenger Bag
65. Toothbrush
66. Razor
67. Nail Clippers
68. Belt
69. Blue Towel
70. Socks
71. Silk Dress Shirt
72. Dress Tie
73. Dress Overcoat
74. White Undershirt
75. Black Sabbath Shirt


Consumables do not count towards the list. Food, soap, shampoo, etc. The challenge begins.

A New Leaf

Well anyone that knows me also knows I hate the norm. Norm, if you are reading this, suck it. (I apologize if your name is Norm) Regardless of names and them sucking it, I am again trying to test myself. Anti-materialism seems like an interesting way. What does that mean? Go google it, I'm not typing it all out for you. You lazy, language incoming, asshole. Anyways, basically it means I am attempting to live by a set list of 75 items. I cannot have more than these items, but I can have less. If I feel at some point I want a new item to possess and own, then I must abandon an item on the list to replace it with this new incoming item. One hell of a challenge if you ask me. Oh but how I enjoy these kind of things. I'll put the list up later once I have catorgorized all the items I own and placed them on the list.



PS.

If anyone is wondering why it is 75 items and not more or less my answer is this, "I like the number 75". Also I cannot take credit for this idea. It comes from the book I read, Gospel According To Larry. You should read it, it is not a religious book at all. Just a fun read.

Mon Cauchemar

I had a dream the other night. I know most people care not for the stories involving dreams, yet give this one a chance. In this dream I worked at a junkyard. Everyday I woke up at the crack of dawn, showered, ate breakfast, and found myself driving to work. I drove an old beat up van. Blue. I cannot remember for the life of me what happened at work, I just remember I ended up at a police station. At this point my dream skipped, like a record. I was still a junkyard worker, just now I found myself in a town that apparently was being rioted. I was still at the police station that was previously mentioned, yet there were no police, a lot of people, mainly reporters, but no police. It was there that I stayed for a while talking to them, all different and unique, until I was fed up with the city and returned back to my junkyard. I believe I ended up playing Frisbee or some other mundane picnic sport. Anyways, why am I telling you this? Because it is my nightmare.

I lived a complete life in my dream. For all I know that alter ego of myself had a family, a steady income, a completely different name, different taste of clothing, but it was still me, Rapp. The problem is I woke up and destroyed all of it. I annihilated that whole world. All of the labor and work of that alter ego me was instantly for naught. All of those people in the police station, any life they may have had was now nothing more than a faint memory. Again you may be asking yourself, "Where's the nightmare". It has been what you have been reading the whole time. All of the work one put into a whole world, or life, and yet it was for nothing. It is a complete metaphor for our literal existence.

I can go out and put thousands of hours of work into a project or a company, yet it would be pointless in the actual long term. All of my hard work would just be destroyed in the end of things. If not by bankruptcy then by some other unknown force out there. My dream is to become a well written writer with a decent fan base, yet my fault is right there in that word, my dream. My dream the other night was so easily destroyed, what is preventing my actual dream from being destroyed? Life is as fragile as the dream of a light sleeper. Any sudden change of environment could wake the sleeper and cast it off into the heap of forgotten, incomplete dreams. Now how can one stop this nightmare?

You can't. There is no actual way to stop it. It is out of our singular reach. Unless you had complete control over everyone and everything in the world, which is utterly nonsensical, and thus the nightmare is real. Your dream is as fragile as those pleasant, or sometimes horrifying, facades that your mind creates when your eyes shut to rest. Imagine that, you break down a dream numerous times a night, does that mean you are doing the same while you are awake? What if they are not your dreams that you shatter, they belong to someone else? Then would that make you the nightmare that haunts the dreams of others? Maybe. Yet, you do not look like an eight foot tall spider that chases me around a monopoly board, so I do not believe that you are my nightmare, and thus will not destroy my dreams. Go haunt someone else, mon cauchemar.

Adaptation or Redaptation?

Humans beings, supposedly one of the most resilient and versatile creatures ever to exist. The science books tell me that we can pretty much adapt and change to live in any environment, within given reason of course. Adaptation, it's the eternal skill that every human, supposedly anyways, has that allows us to continue and live. You can pick any one person up from their normal environment and place them in a completely new, different environment, they will be able to live and prosper there. It's our genetic makeup that determines this for us, or at least that's what we are suppose to believe. Yet, do we actually adapt and change at all? Look back in the history of mankind, we are always dealing with the same damn problems, just a different era of time. Don't believe me? Look back through history. We haven't adapted at all.

Singularly humans can adapt pretty well. I mean if we could not then we would certainly have been extinct a long time ago. It's just when you zoom out and start looking at our race as a whole, we haven't changed a bit. We are still dealing with the same issues that people hundreds of years ago dealt with. Race. Sex. Money. Government. Drugs. Crime. Sure humans can adapt alright. Adapt right back to the way they have always been and, from the ways thing have been progressing, always will be. Humans do not adapt at all, they just redapt (I made that word up, hurray). Now this idea of "redapting" does not only follow the normal flow of life, it also extends into religion, philosophy, politics, etc. Look at all the philosophers of all time, they all just argue the same thing. The strife of mankind. The purpose of mankind. The plague of mankind. It's all hogwash.

Now does this mean that humans have, in theory, not progressed at all over the hundreds of years? Yes, and no. We certainly have made thousands of intellectual breakthroughs in terms of technology. It just sort of ends there. We still, sorry for being blunt, suck on so many levels. Our philosophy and religion have really gone no where. It seems, for me anyways, that when it comes to deep cognitive thought, we haven't really progressed at all. We still argue about the same things that people were arguing about hundreds of years ago. We, as a race, need to kill ourselves. That's the answer. Sorry, I am feeling oddly more cynical than usual. Now go out and prosper!

One Year

Well I was just looking through all of my facebook pictures from the last year, with my good friend Jess, and then it hit me. I have been at this school for a year now. It has been a whole year since I have arrived in a place completely different from my normal social region. The thing that I have never actually revealed to anyone, even my parents, was that this whole change of atmosphere was, actually, a social experiment. The experiment? Would I be able to survive, or adapt, to a sudden, and complete, change of environment? The results? Well, if you care to continue reading I will explain them.

One thing I have found buried deep within the human cognitive thought is that no one enjoys change. Sure, you can say you do, but give it time. You will eventually long for a stable environment, a routine, a norm that controls your life, makes it simple and contained. Well that is good and all, but it does you no real justice. Why? The only way for a human to truly understand life and grow is to actually experience it. You must put yourself into situations that will test your mind or body. This experiment did just that. I put myself in a situation that would cause me to reconsider everything I believed in, trusted in, or had faith in. That is what the true, hidden, meaning of maturing is, testing yourself.

When I was a child I lived a very sheltered and simple life. Yet, at the same time, I thought I was one of the more mature individuals in my age group. Was I? Looking back I do not believe I was. Which makes me laugh at the thought these days simply because back then even adults said I was mature for my age. Lies. Half truths. Propaganda that simply fed my urge to feel different from my peers. I certainly was not mature for my age, I had not experienced life at all. I may have thought I had, but I was no where near mature. It was only when I was plucked from the pot my parents had placed me in, cared for me in, and thrown myself out into the real world garden did I understand what it meant to be mature. Does this meant that I believe I currently am mature and an adult? Negative, not even close.

People have a hard time dividing the thoughts of maturity and being an adult, they do not go hand in hand. Being an adult is simple, you just wait until your physical body has aged to the point society claims you are an adult. Easy. Maturity? Not so simple. Maturity never ends, it will continue until the day you are dead in the ground. You are constantly going through experiences and thus always have the potential to mature your ideals, or thoughts, further. Our society likes to tell the young that maturity takes place between the ages of ten and twenty, wrong. It never ends. Every decision we make and every moral choice we make determines our maturity. Well that's it for now, I might write more about this tonight. Take care!

Zietlos

One thing that has always bothered me was the thought of fate. Everyone likes to throw the word "fate" around when describing human existence. What is our fate as humans? What does fate hold in store for us? Yet, do people really understand what the word fate means? The actual thought of fate existing, basically, means that we have no control or hold over our own lives. Now I cannot speak for you, but this really deters me from having a pleasant thought over my existence. If you are confused right now, just follow me for a bit as my thought process is laid out.

Now imagine the last decision you made. Does not matter how trivial or important it was, as long as you had to decide between two, or more, outcomes. Got it? Now imagine that no matter what you thought to try and determine the outcome, it was already chosen for you. It was fated out for you since the dawn of time. You were destined to make that decision at that point in your life and no matter how much thought you put into it, it was out of your hands. Which brings another thought to mind. What if we try and work against fate? Does that mean we were fated to work against fate itself and thus completing fates grand plan? Very intriguing.

Now, again, I cannot speak for you, but I am torn about this thought. I know I previously stated that it makes me not so pleasant about my existence, yet at the same time it gives me some security. It means that no matter what I try and do I cannot run away from my fate. Whatever it is I am destined for, I must complete. Again not a pleasant thought since, in theory, we cannot do what we actually want to do. Yet, what if what we actually want to do is exactly what fate has planned for us? Thus it contains a subtle sense of safety and security. An unpleasant, safe, and complete existence that was determined before we ever were a thought in our parents minds. But, this is not what I believe, so then I suppose life is pleasant, chaotic, and incomplete. At least for me it is anyways. You? Well, I suppose only time will determine what you think, unless it's already destined what you think. Pleasant hunting.

Black and White 3: The Blog

Well I was wandering around my school today and felt the need to write, the only problem was I had no idea what to write about. I found the only answer to the solution was to ask a complete stranger and see what they thought an interesting topic would be. The answer? A monochromatic existence. Now at first this sounds like a very complicated topic of choice, I mean that is a large scientific word, yet in reality it simply means to live in a black and white world. At least that is what wikipedia told me. Anyways, the thought of living in a black and white world brings only one thought to my mind, indifferent.

Imagine living in a world where the only "colors" that can be perceived by the human eyes are black and white, maybe some shades of gray in there as filler. Would our lives really be any different from what they are now? Sure, the aesthetic qualities of our art we produce may be a little lackluster, but can we actually say that? All we know are the shades that the colors of black and white show us, thus our art in theory would be of the same quality we now produce. We just would be ignorant and naive to the fact that the actual color spectrum did not exist to us. Sure if all of a sudden we lost our ability to observe colors and were stuck in a monochromatic existence then we would certainly feel the loss, but that's not what we are discussing. We are discussing birth and death in that monochromatic existence without the slightest thought of colors existing. I doubt our minds could even understand the thought of what a "color" was or even looked like. For some reason I find this hilarious.

We are constantly learning and understanding further the world that surrounds us. Hell, hundreds of years ago we thought the world was flat, that sickness was caused by a curse and not pathogens, and the simple thought of molecules would have had you locked up as insane. This thought of a monochromatic existence makes me think about what it is we currently are missing in our modern age world. The fourth dimension for example. What is it? Or time. What the hell is time? Right now we live in a world where we feel like we understand so much, yet there is so much more. For all I know, we could be living in a pseudo monochromatic world, yet my mind just cannot fathom the thought. Which brings another interesting thought to mind, what if the reality I perceive is not the true reality everyone else perceives? Regardless, this blog was just a test to see if I could actually write about a completely random topic, hope it suffices. I'll write about something else tonight, until then, keep smiling.

Forgiveness

All my life I have never been one to really ask for anything. Still to this day I have a hard time asking my parents for money. I don't care if I have to eat peanut butter and dry pasta for weeks, I will not ask my parents for anything. Even with my friends, it is very hard for me to ask them for anything. I suppose that would mean that pride is my deadly sin, everyone has one. Yet, with this post I hope to break my pride and ask for one thing, forgiveness.

When I was growing up as a child, pardon the language, I was an asshole. My father would always ask me to do something with him, bonding things, and yet I always denied it. I would say something like, "No Dad, that's lame. I will never need to use that in life". I could see it in his eyes, the sadness I brought upon him. All he wanted to do was spend time with his child and actually get to know me, yet I blocked him at every chance. Stupid. That's what I was. I was an immature boy who thought only of himself and never of others. I know I should not blame myself for this, seeing as I was still maturing to my current state at the time, but I still feel guilty for it. I love my father more than anything in this world, yet I can't seem to tell him this to his face. It's not just him though, there are others.

My mother is one of the more inspirational people in my life. She is an amazing woman. I care not to go into details over this, just know she has been through hell in her life. I admire her for her ability to always walk through the flames of life with a positive attitude. Again though, as a child I would always try and test her. See how far I could push her before that positive attitude would break. The most memorable time that stands out in my mind was my sister's funeral. My whole family was broken by this tragedy. What did I do? Nothing. I acted as if nothing had happened. I cried once through the whole process, and that's only because the emotion became too unbearable. My mother's reaction? She thanked me for crying, for showing my true emotion. She thanked me after I had basically spat in the face of my sister's funeral. She showed me forgiveness. The true sense of the word.

I know I am not a perfect person. Anyone who knows me can obviously say that. It's just actually hard to admit to that fact. We, as humans, are not perfect beings. We may think that we are at times, yet the truth will always bring us back down to earth. I suppose what I am trying to say is that I just want forgiveness. I am sorry for all of the wrongs that I have done to various people throughout my life. No matter how trivial or small they may have seemed. Life truly is hard enough, who am I to make it harder? I think one thing we don't realize, until it is too late, is that life is fragile and short. We should make our decisions count. Next time someone asks you to hang out or do some mundane event, go along with it. In your eyes it may seem mundane and wasteful, but to them it may mean the world. I can't go back and relive my life, go back and spend more time with my father, yet maybe you are reading this and have not passed up your chance. That's all I can say on this subject. Take care.

Love: The Bane Of Existence

Love. One word, yet it carries so many different ideas. Why is that? Why is it, as humans, we have yet to even understand the mental state of love. Sure, chemically we know what it does to us and how our body reacts, but the mind is different. There are so many different ways one can react to the sense of love. Fear. Happiness. Ecstasy. Lust. Anger. The list goes on. The reason? Well, I don't think there is one certain way for our minds to react to the sense of loving someone or being loved by someone. Could it simply be that the state of love is not so much a state of emotion yet, rather a state of confusion?

During my last spring break I went on a very interesting excursion with a close friend of mine. I refuse to go into details as to what we actually did, just know that the purpose of this adventure was so my friend could try and win the heart back of his love. Granted we are both in college and both are dreamers, so this adventure made complete sense. We gathered our things and went on a numerous hour drive to find this girl. Well needless to say, it was a mess. I cataloged the whole event and tried to observe the various states my friend went through. I watched as my friend went from complete and utter despair, I had never seen him cry before then, to a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment, and then to a mental state of being nonchalant and accepting. The whole time though, it was love spurring all of those emotions. Love was his sadness, his joy, his excitement, his existence.

My father loves my mother, that much is obvious. As a child I always knew it, yet I had never actually seen it. Then I thought to myself, "Am I not seeing his love for her or am I just passing over it". That was when I started to take notice of all my father's actions and what he did throughout the day. It was the small actions that showed his love. I mean sure he would do some big events every now and then, movies and dinner, a gift, but are those the important symbols of love? I think not. I think you show someone love by altering your life for that person. A perfect example of this is when my father would argue about something. He's a very stubborn man, we would argue for hours, yet he would often admit that my mother was right about a subject. When my mother was out of the room and it was only him and I he would always say, "Son, your mother pisses me off more than anyone in the world, but I love her more than anything. I don't know what I would do without her". Very crude words, but it showed his emotion so purely.

My take on love? I don't know. Right now I can't really say that I am in love with anyone. Sure, I'm dating someone who I could easily say that I am in love with, but what if I don't mean it? I don't even know what it means to be in love, so how could I say that I am in love with someone? I believe our world tosses the word love around too easily, it takes away from the meaning of the word. People should just take it day by day and enjoy the person that you are with. If you find yourself asking if you are in love with someone just ask yourself one question, "What does it mean to me to be in love". Love is the bane of human existence. We go through great lengths to get it, yet we have no idea what it is. Love is the holy grail of humans. Will we ever understand it? No, not entirely at least. Will I ever understand it? I hope so. Until that day happens, I find myself just enjoying life and living it to the fullest. Now please, go out and show that special someone what it means to you to love them. Goodnight and enjoy.

Byron: The Hospital Visit

While I was down in Austin for the whole GDC convention there was a particular event that happened and will forever stand out in my mind. One of my friends was having a problem breathing and, after consulting with my mother for a bit, we decided it would be best to just take him to the hospital. Now for the record, I hate everything about hospitals. Needles. Blood. White gloves. Everything. Yet there I was sitting in the emergency room of the hospital just waiting for my friend to make sure he was alright. That was when my attention was caught by a single man pacing around the ER.

The man looked to be much older than myself, I would place him in his late fifties, had medium length wavy gray hair, and a serious case of Shingles. He seemed to simply be mumbling to himself and grabbing his left thigh every so often, usually followed by an extreme look of pain across his face. Now for anyone that does not know what Shingles is, it can be extremely painful. It is a skin rash that forms much like Chicken Pox, small bumps on the skin, filled with puss, not fun stuff. Anyways, I decided, for some unknown reason, that I was going to start a conversation with this man. Why? To try and help distract his mind from the suffering he was going through.

Now for some reason our society has found it tabboo to talk to strangers, I can understand it in some cases yet not completely. The conversation that I had with this man, Byron he eventually told me, was one of the more entertaining and intellectual talks I have had in a while. We discussed movies and the progression of film from black and white silent films to todays digitally created ones. This man, who in normal aspects would have looked insane, was a complete film buff. We played a game for a while where I would say a movie and he would say all the lead actors that starred in it. How many did he get right? All of them. It was amazing to see someone so passionate about something that was merely a source of entertainment. That's when my mind began to drift onto a subject not as pleasant as movies, aging.

One thing that I noticed with Byron was the fact that in general he was "happy". Here was a man stricken with Shingles, apparently lived in public housing, had no money, no car, no job, and was simply loving life. I actually brought the subject up once during our hours of conversation. His response? "Getting old is not for wimps". That was it. In one sentence he was able to portray his whole ideal on the subject of getting old. I can honestly say though, since meeting Byron and listening to his passionately talk about movies, that I feel somewhat...better. Even though I was watching a man suffer in agony, talking about trivial matters, and clearly getting up there in age, he was completely appreciative of his existence. It just goes to show that there are people out there that are born only to show others what it means to live. Byron, you have inspired me on more levels than you can understand. Getting old is certainly not for wimps.

Counting Stars

One of my favorite past times is gazing out at that great black quilt in the sky and counting the amount of stars I can perceive. I can just stand there for hours gazing up at the sky, like a turkey in the rain. This is something I have always done since I was a child, it helps relieve my stress. The problem is that I often find myself wishing on the brightest, or first, star that I see. Why is this a problem you ask? Well it is very simple, I am not religious. This may seem like a far fetched connection, and sort of idiotic, yet follow me on this thought process.

When I was growing up I was all for the idea of religion and believing in some greater being, yet in my older age I found myself lacking faith. I just could not bring myself to believe that there is some greater being that is dictating everyone and everything in existence. Certainly it is a nice thought to have, I mean you can always scapegoat your actions on this thing that is bigger than you ever can be. You can even just ask, or pray, for some help and this being is supposedly going to help you through your problems. Sorry, I cannot bring myself to follow this trend that so many people have fallen into, or at least that is what I thought.

One day I was walking down one of the main streets of Phoenix at night and found myself contemplating religion and my obsession with stars. That was when it hit me. My wishing on stars is, in theory, no different than someone asking that being for help. My wishes were nothing more than diluted prayers. Sure I may not be praying to the same being that a religion would pray to but, I was at least praying. Now does this mean that I admit I am religious and will start searching for my religion to follow? No, of course not, that would be a ridiculous thought. I mean, after all, I am just a turkey staring up at the sky, counting stars. Enjoy your day.

Death, or self purpose?

One of the things that I find interesting as a human, which I believe most people will agree on this, is the fact that we do not have a purpose to live. In theory we should all just kill ourselves and end this ridiculous hamster wheel known simply as "Life". Although that in itself is a cynical point of view, I am cynical in nature, and most of the world's populous would not approve of that previous statement. Yet, what then is our actual purpose to live and prosper and continue this vicious cycle? The only answer that I have been able to find is simply found in our own human mortality, death.

There are numerous times, whether during the day or key periods in my life, where I ask myself, "Why should I even bother continuing to live?", and death is always the deciding factor. I find that by living my life with the thought of death looming overhead with every decision it makes the outcome all that much more fulfilling. I mean, if you constantly say, "Wait, I will die eventually, possibly now", you will always make decisions that will fulfill your life to the fullest and most appreciative. At the same time though you must take this life motto, theory, concept, whatever, with a light heart and a strong mind.

If everyone in existence started thinking with this mentality, pardon the language, the world would go to shit. No one would even want to think about tomorrow when they could die today. We would have people robbing, killing, raping, etc. and the world would be in an even worse condition. That is why you must take this idea and think long term with it. What do I want to do with my life? What is my ideal career? How far do I wish to take my education? If you realize that your time on this world is, in reality, short then you will start to take action. Instead of sitting around doing nothing with your life you might instead get up and go out into the world and make something of yourself. Well, at least that is what I did. Remember though this is just my own personal mentality and I am by no means trying to push this idea on anyone. This is more of just a fluid thought played our in words that could possibly help someone else out there. Cheers mates.

Introduction Post

Now seeing as this is my actual first blog post I might as well introduce myself a bit. The problem is I hate talking about myself and all that good stuff, so instead I will just post a story and hopefully you, the reader, get some semblance into who I am.

One of the more perfect moments of my life that I have come across recently happened. It was about a week ago and I found myself traveling in a taxi through downtown Austin, Texas. I was in Austin for a convention, so I'm not an actual native of the area. Anyways it was about the third day of the convention and I found myself exhausted; it was very early in the morning mind you. Now, usually, I am a very talkative person who would enjoy nothing more than conversing with the taxi driver, yet this morning was different.

My two friends and I go into the taxi like usual, I would say it was around six or so in the morning, way too early, and started traveling to our convention destination. Well, instead of listening to what the conversation was about, I just popped my i-pod headphones in and started listening to "The Killers." About fifteen minutes into the ride we found ourselves sitting at a red light, which of course would be a normal situation in most cases except for this exact moment.

I was sitting in the back left seat of the car and found myself staring out the window at one of the most beautiful things ever: a woman throwing up. Follow me on this. The woman was white, blond hair, and looked roughly in her mid twenties. Nothing special. Yet standing over her was another person, a man to be exact. The man was black, had short hair, and looked to be in his low thirties. The woman was kneeling on the ground, one hand holding her hair back and another on the ground to keep herself balanced, and just coughing/vomiting all over the side walk. What was this man doing? Kissing her. The man was standing over her, rubbing her back, and kissing her on the cheek/neck. He appeared to be talking to her, consoling her no doubt, yet I could not hear what they were saying. While all of this was going on the song "Uncle Johnny" was playing, adding to the whole feel of the situation. Now the reason I say it was the more perfect moments is simply because it showed raw and pure human emotion.

Here were these two people, of which I hadn't the slightest clue as to who/what they were all about, yet they were so...perfect. The woman clearly was in great distress and needed someone to support her. The man on the other hand was showing the true passion and care he had for this woman. He was not off put by the fact she was vomiting in broad day light in the middle of the city. Instead he was actually supporting her as if he was the one vomiting in the road. The man had no care for anyone else in the world other than that woman kneeling there in front of him. Time had literally stopped for them and they were the only ones who existed. It was perfect. Anyways, that's my introduction. Good day.