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?"