Sad Day

Dearest Sophie,

I am so sorry. You've been very good to me and through a lot of weird dilemmas so I can relate with you... even though you're a car. Thank you for protecting my friends and I from the murderous semi, I'm sorry it couldn't fess up the courage to admit that it hit you and that you still survived. And I'm sorry my income sucks so bad that I didn't get full coverage for you. I guess I should have sheltered you more so you wouldn't have to face semis and other evil monsters. I know we don't hold a great deal of memories together since I basically put you in a kennel during college and there was that... other incident.... I'm not ready to say goodbye to you though, you've been a sweet car, with nice leather, and a sunroof. I don't want to put you down girl, I really don't. I would take care of you, if that option can be so. You're a part of me that I don't want to let go.

Ten Minute Write

Writer's block. Almost like life block. You have all these thoughts swirling in your head but you just refuse to write them down. I'm not sure what causes this: maybe fear, insecurity, procrastination, realizing your thoughts are poop, for all I know it is realizing that your stuck in a project forever. I've been showing signs of this throughout the summer. I've even gone through older posts that I've made in my life and have deleted piece after piece of things I used to be.

I guess that makes sense; I mean at some point you pitch your old toys for new things, or just get rid of things altogether.

I am afraid, no lie. It's not that writing terrifies me, I think it's the audience or showing it to someone and they don't have any interest. I don't know, I've been through a lot creatively in this year and it's given me fear of...

being vulnerable. Something I don't especially like, but am willing to do. I think that's probably why I don't want to seriously write, because deep down I know I have to offer up myself to people's criticisms, misconceptions, and prejudices. Even my own. How I write reflects to a great deal of how I'm treating myself.

I feel like I was diva. Writing constantly. Trying to move people but not necessarily knowing what they may or may not have been going through. I feel pretty unappreciated, misguided, and just like I was in some sort of dense fog... all alone.

I didn't like that feeling.
I think I have a lot more to offer.

I guess I need to have compassion for my own talents even when they decide to shut down on me. There's certain people I miss, confusing problems, and the like.

I actually kind of want to slap myself silly right now because clearly I'm lacking perspective. There's so many hideous and heart breaking things in the world and you know, I want to charge after those things, be of service, and stop nagging on myself. Oh, I really do nag a lot to myself; I need someone to come along that I feel comfortable enough to do that to rather than keep pointing the blame, the stupidities, and the like on my own wee self.

I think this may be one of the more honest pieces of thought that I've had in awhile. I don't feel like I'm trying to run away, I'm just seeing myself, and not trying to freak out.

There's a few things I would change if I could. I have no idea what is in store for the future, but I think about it constantly. Maybe these past few months I've been trying to perceive that. I am terrified of a few things that are happening to people my age, like marriage, mountains of babies, and extraneous bills.

I don't think that's me. I don't want a lot of what everyone else wants right now.

I could afford to be more giving.

Ledge

I feel heavy. I can't explain it, but there's so much running through my mind.

In the highway of the mind it seems as though each driver is attracted to a different sector whether geekdom, knowledge, cleverness, sagacity, or wisdom. I marvel at my geek counterparts and their thirst for highly superficial details on society that only they would know through search and seizure and a hunger for more whether by the mind of an engineer or a lust for Star Trek.

Knowledge comes in spades and I don't know how in the world people are able to lump so many facts and thoughts into one mind. There's been times that I've just sat and watched Jeopardy just because I was so fascinated that a person could know so many random things, which in my own prejudice I end up labeling as trivial.

In truth, there is no such thing as trivial or idle. Everything is a part of a highly performed composition of interchanging pieces so to say that one aspect of anything is trivial is denying it's purpose and the chance that it can and will influence another component's existence. To say a person is trivial is as if to say they have absolutely no potential to affect you, and that seems a bit harsh and closed minded/hearted.

Cleverness inspires me greatly. Alice seems to be a queen of this land and all that is liberal celebrates her from the Matrix to post modern theories. It's the exploration of "why" alongside proving a point within a new journey. I can see why this is celebrated, and also why I like it since my mind is distinctly abstract and even though I appreciate order and structure, I can't deny that my mind is not a fluid structure but rather progressive, spiraling, and like a deep ocean. I applaud a blend of sporadic and planned; I fear being too confined by structure and being lost in circles from my more free-spirited friends. Anyway, cleverness is adorned for it's conclusions and how it came to those conclusions.

My favorite avenue of all, the one I can't help but be attracted to, is hands down wisdom. No matter how well someone can break a part a machine or delve into a list of names of Babylonian kings, it means nothing to me in comparison to truths, what makes the human mind tick, where we are headed, how we should live, the potential consequences, and the probing questions that unlock doors and gateways into meadows of exalted peace. I adore Socrates and how much he annoyed his born given society. He had a drive for the ethical and the spiritual, which is something I connect with.

Wisdom brings broad truth, understanding, perspective, hope, and beyond some of the other paradigms of the mind -- virtue. There's so many compartments of the mind and to sum them up in one word states is fairly heinous, but wisdom is like a whisper that ripples through a tide of insanity, completely changing its course. If wisdom exists than I believe order can be established, for if wisdom did not exist then wouldn't we be satisfied with chaos?

I don't know. These are the imperfect thoughts that are swirling around in my mind today.

meh

I post pretentious things. I'm sorry... sometimes I just can't stop writing.

EXIgency into EXIstence

Over time I become more complex in my thought life. Aging will take place and much of what I know will be lost, like a black hole that leaves a stain throughout the entire brain.

I have no idea what kind of metaphorical language I just used because I somehow... whoa... combined the hyper-real with the real? Not even sure in the least.

Anyway, as a narrative extends through its storyworld it is inevitable that all the plot lines thicken. It branches off into so many possibilities that it becomes impossible to contain. The initial origin of the piece intrigues the audience because it's an introduction into a storyworld, something new, something ground breaking, and something promising. When the factors start adding up and directing you through that storyworld, that's when it becomes debatable as to whether or not the piece is actually of intelligence, value, artistic merit, and so forth. There's so many twists and turns and often times there's parts that we all enjoy, but if there's anything I know--

the end is the most important part.

I hate poor endings.
I hate them.

Dazzle me with stars, intrigue me with new ideas, and bother me with words. But if you don't know how to end it -- you're a joke, a farce, and nothing more than a loss.

We slave over how to introduce ourselves, how to write into perfection the most exotic hello... but what's the point if you don't know how to end?

Strong endings are rare and far between. If it doesn't resonate, if it doesn't answer with allowing more questions, if it doesn't -- spark interest -- then it was a coward, a bloody corpse of twirled up worms.

Why are endings so strange? Because it's not natural. Things are not suppose to end, but they do. Every person you will ever meet, will die (and at least once, as guaranteed by every religion). An end, when so ritualistically tied to the routine that keeps your ticking time bomb beating; an end, for when the flesh that's on your bones rots; an end, for when the final words are posted on your grave, the place you will stay longer than anywhere else in your entire EXIsTence.

People want their nuances, they gravitate to the new, the hope that there still is new and that they don't have to die to commitments. Delusional men tired of their faithful wives crave whores, secretaries, and their old friends simply because -- they can't face the news of a dead religion. Give me women, all the time, why stop? Why? Why? Why? What do you mean I'm tied down...

It's the flirtation of the beginning that people consume, that bleeds into their system that they desire at every turn. Screw this, I've seen it before, give me something new!

...and so the promise of a strong end? Nearly impossible, not just in literature, the arts, song, dance, rhyme, but every masterpiece of a relationship ever created on this spinning, vibrant globe. Why bring victory to something if you're doomed? Don't you feel trapped in knowing that it will end, that you are locked in--

These are just a myriad of thoughts on endings, but in my opinion: I loathe bad endings. Nothing more cowardly, nothing more ugly than a weak end.

The lack of a strong ending always asks the question -- what was it worth? Nothing?

Perchance.



P.S. You can always redeem yourself from a beginning, but an end?