I think I'm obsessed with sour and sweet.
I've never been really into super sweet things like candy, and sugar in general. I've always been a fan of Chips and Salty things. Which is combination of sweet and sour right? I suppose actually it's Sweet and salty. But I love opposites. I love a beautiful picture with some sort of destruction within it. Something off color and surprising.
I had a sour-sweet dream last night. I wish I had the ability to paint a picture, or make a video describing what I saw. I dreamt I was back in San Jacinto in my parents/grandparents house. As I walked out the sliding glass door to the backyard, I had a perfect view of the city in front of me. The house was elevated on a hill more than usual so that I could see every corner of the valley. The city flickered with house and street lights, and the little white and red dots (cars) moved across the streets.
Amazingly, I could see the horizon and see stars all around me and they were so low in the sky, that I did not even have to look up to see them. I did however see that there was a beautiful cloud across the horizon. It looked like the ocean turned upside down, and it was glowing with the city lights beneath.
I stared and pondered how I could imagine such a pretty sight, and as I did, a cone began to develop in the middle of the cloud. The wind began to swirl, and with it, so did the cloud, and what began to form was a tornado. It was amazing to see this vision of a tornado gaining strength, and ultimately touching the ground, and making a path of scrap wood and metal that once was houses and cars.
As I watched this all happen, my vision pulled back to a different scene. I saw my arms and my hands, and within my hands, I held a Snow globe- where within, was this tornado that I was witnessing.
All I could do was watch in awe.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
I want to
I want to break free
I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
You're so self-satisfied I don't need you
I got to to break free
God knows, God knows I want to break free
I've fallen in love
I've fallen in love for the first time
And this time I know it's for real
I've fallen in love, yeah
God knows, God knows I've fallen in love
It's strange but it's true (hey yea)
I can't get over the way you love me like you do
But I have to be sure
When I walk out that door
Oh how I want to be free, (oh yea)
Oh how I want to be free
Oh how I want to break free
But life still goes on
I can't get used to living without, living without, living without you
by my side
I don't want to live alone, hey
God knows got to make it on my own
So baby can't you see
I've got to break free
I've got to break free
I want to break free, yeah
I want I want I want I want to break free …
I want to break free
I want to break free from your lies
You're so self-satisfied I don't need you
I got to to break free
God knows, God knows I want to break free
I've fallen in love
I've fallen in love for the first time
And this time I know it's for real
I've fallen in love, yeah
God knows, God knows I've fallen in love
It's strange but it's true (hey yea)
I can't get over the way you love me like you do
But I have to be sure
When I walk out that door
Oh how I want to be free, (oh yea)
Oh how I want to be free
Oh how I want to break free
But life still goes on
I can't get used to living without, living without, living without you
by my side
I don't want to live alone, hey
God knows got to make it on my own
So baby can't you see
I've got to break free
I've got to break free
I want to break free, yeah
I want I want I want I want to break free …
Saturday, November 28, 2009
it's fun to not finish blogs sometimes.
I wrote this a while back and never finished. Unfortunately, I don't know where I was going with it, but I see now that it's pretty cool.
Does this begin with an opening sequence?
This visual Life, is it mirrored for me?
That's your life, that I pretended was mine,
till I saw how it ended and I pulled on the breaks.
So here I am now.
Screaming, "Oh my lord, not me as well!"
Close the curtains, and close up the casket.
All I ever looked for was the lives of the others.
Never focusing on the destiny of my very own.
I skipped that bridge, when I saw another get burned
I drove across the United states when I saw the plane dive.
I found this one too...
Hello Bay area
Good bye seattle. You were a sweet lover
But I must return to my dear mother
Hello california, yes, i've missed you
I know you've always done what you do
And smile a sunshine that forgives
The darkest of rainstorm that ever lived
A presence consuming, I express you
In no sphere consuming, can I repress you
Give you my heart for the fifth time
I may someday reject you,
Does this begin with an opening sequence?
This visual Life, is it mirrored for me?
That's your life, that I pretended was mine,
till I saw how it ended and I pulled on the breaks.
So here I am now.
Screaming, "Oh my lord, not me as well!"
Close the curtains, and close up the casket.
All I ever looked for was the lives of the others.
Never focusing on the destiny of my very own.
I skipped that bridge, when I saw another get burned
I drove across the United states when I saw the plane dive.
I found this one too...
Hello Bay area
Good bye seattle. You were a sweet lover
But I must return to my dear mother
Hello california, yes, i've missed you
I know you've always done what you do
And smile a sunshine that forgives
The darkest of rainstorm that ever lived
A presence consuming, I express you
In no sphere consuming, can I repress you
Give you my heart for the fifth time
I may someday reject you,
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Erm...
I haven't done this in a while. I have had things to write about, and have even made attempts to write about them on this, but for whatever reason, never finished the drafts. One particular draft is of a dream I had a couple weeks ago. It was epic in nature, and poetic in form. I'm finding it hard to write down what really went on in my head that night. It's was so beautiful, and vivid. Beautiful is an interesting adjective in respect to this dream I had; it was devastating. Buildings were destroyed, and people were hurt. But the way it all happened... was amazing..
I'm writing a story about all of this. It was from this dream I realized the need to make this all into a book, and I'm gonna write it, and it's gonna be awesome. It will be fun to read this and maybe someone will recognize this blog in a few years, and think, wow that was the grass roots for this novel.
Picture this: Imagine you are standing on the corner of a four-way stop. To your left, to your right, and all around are Apartment buildings and sky-scrapers. It is mid-afternoon and you are having a conversation a woman, who is only a spirit, but has physical form. This is what I saw in my dream.
I remember the mood was tense, but things did not seem chaotic. This woman I was with was talking to me about all of my accomplishments in the last years, and her influence in them. I had done everything like she said I should have done, and I was feeling great about it, all till I remembered that she had made me kill my grandfather, and that wasn't right to me.
So I told her that I couldn't follow her orders anymore, and that we were finished. Of course, she was angry with me and began to lay into me how what I was saying was nonsense and that I HAD to do what she said. But me being as stubborn as I naturally and shut her out of my head, and with that she told me that she was going to use me for my purpose, and gave me an example of her power.
It was at this point that she merely turned her gaze to the apartments beside us, and they began to crumble. The feeling was so vivid, that I could feel the earth shake beneath me, and the only thing that I could do was watch at the simplicity of destruction.
All now before me was rubble and smoke, and yet I was still jaded, and unmoved - both physically and mentally. I knew in my head and in my heart I could not show weakness, because this being had none of herself.
I began to walk away, and she changed her form into a cloud that seemed to follow me around, and she screamed in my ear that she would have me to do her will if it meant that she would destroy the whole world. I was needed for her plans.
I told her I was finished and I could not continue further, and she said simply, "I will destroy this world for you and I." and she disappeared. As I was left to only my thoughts now, I continued to walk past destroyed convenient stores, and fruit stands and I kept my thoughts empty only for the reason of trying to keep her out of them.
As I walked a woman came up to me holding a knife, in her right hand, and she walked at such a pace that I thought she was going to stab me. But she stood straight in front of me, and I looked into her eyes. They were blank and glassy, and I could see that inside her was the spirit of this woman that had destroyed everything.
She looked at me and smiled slightly, and then she whispered quietly, "You made me do this." She took the knife, and held it to her neck, and slid the blade across her skin. She let go of the knife and dropped to the ground clenching her neck, as blood began to now poor to the ground.
...Well kids, then I woke up.
Yep. I dreamt that. It's gonna be a book.
I haven't done this in a while. I have had things to write about, and have even made attempts to write about them on this, but for whatever reason, never finished the drafts. One particular draft is of a dream I had a couple weeks ago. It was epic in nature, and poetic in form. I'm finding it hard to write down what really went on in my head that night. It's was so beautiful, and vivid. Beautiful is an interesting adjective in respect to this dream I had; it was devastating. Buildings were destroyed, and people were hurt. But the way it all happened... was amazing..
I'm writing a story about all of this. It was from this dream I realized the need to make this all into a book, and I'm gonna write it, and it's gonna be awesome. It will be fun to read this and maybe someone will recognize this blog in a few years, and think, wow that was the grass roots for this novel.
Picture this: Imagine you are standing on the corner of a four-way stop. To your left, to your right, and all around are Apartment buildings and sky-scrapers. It is mid-afternoon and you are having a conversation a woman, who is only a spirit, but has physical form. This is what I saw in my dream.
I remember the mood was tense, but things did not seem chaotic. This woman I was with was talking to me about all of my accomplishments in the last years, and her influence in them. I had done everything like she said I should have done, and I was feeling great about it, all till I remembered that she had made me kill my grandfather, and that wasn't right to me.
So I told her that I couldn't follow her orders anymore, and that we were finished. Of course, she was angry with me and began to lay into me how what I was saying was nonsense and that I HAD to do what she said. But me being as stubborn as I naturally and shut her out of my head, and with that she told me that she was going to use me for my purpose, and gave me an example of her power.
It was at this point that she merely turned her gaze to the apartments beside us, and they began to crumble. The feeling was so vivid, that I could feel the earth shake beneath me, and the only thing that I could do was watch at the simplicity of destruction.
All now before me was rubble and smoke, and yet I was still jaded, and unmoved - both physically and mentally. I knew in my head and in my heart I could not show weakness, because this being had none of herself.
I began to walk away, and she changed her form into a cloud that seemed to follow me around, and she screamed in my ear that she would have me to do her will if it meant that she would destroy the whole world. I was needed for her plans.
I told her I was finished and I could not continue further, and she said simply, "I will destroy this world for you and I." and she disappeared. As I was left to only my thoughts now, I continued to walk past destroyed convenient stores, and fruit stands and I kept my thoughts empty only for the reason of trying to keep her out of them.
As I walked a woman came up to me holding a knife, in her right hand, and she walked at such a pace that I thought she was going to stab me. But she stood straight in front of me, and I looked into her eyes. They were blank and glassy, and I could see that inside her was the spirit of this woman that had destroyed everything.
She looked at me and smiled slightly, and then she whispered quietly, "You made me do this." She took the knife, and held it to her neck, and slid the blade across her skin. She let go of the knife and dropped to the ground clenching her neck, as blood began to now poor to the ground.
...Well kids, then I woke up.
Yep. I dreamt that. It's gonna be a book.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A quick update
I guess it's not really an update, but maybe more of I'm just writing a little before I go to bed, just to say I've written lately. I'm not good at writing paper journals, and so this will maybe someday be for my posterity? I dunno? What will blogging/internet be in 20 or 30 years? Too large a concept to think about, for my feeble brain that's for sure.
I wanna get into a pen pal group. I've tried to friends, with no real successful correspondence in return. There's gotta be an internet site or somethin that will put me on the path to the right people. I think letter's are so neat, and some of the stories, quotes, and what not were told 1st in the form of a letter to a friend. Mark Twain was a letter writer. He wrote back and forth to one of my Favorite writers H.P. Lovecraft.
I think there's a special spirit of letter writing that is found from writing a letter, sealing the envelope, writing a sender's address, and putting it in the mailbox. Then one week later on the other side of the country, another person opens there mailbox and inside the box are bills, credit card applications, silly coupon booklets, catalogs, and every so often, a tad of nostalgia, as the receiver finds an envelope hand written by someone, who took the thought and effort to relay a message (hopefully a nice one) to them personally.
I want that.
Today, was the 1st rain of the fall season in the bay area, and it was pleasant as long as I wasn't working in it. Ha ha. I think I'll manage, if the temperature was any indication, it was slightly cold, but nothing ridiculous to the point of border-line freezing like how it is sometimes in Southern California. If you're saying "I dunno about that, Willy". Well then you're wrong and I'm right. Done.
Ummm let's see. I dunno what else to say. I think I need to write some stuff down, and write it down for myself. I have some thoughts, but I don't think they should be public. I wrote on my facebook status the other day "The Facebook taunt's me 'What's on your mind?' and I replied, 'The world is not ready'". And I wasn't kidding. I really have a lot to say, and maybe I'll express it all. Maybe never. I know somewhere out there, I will tell someone everything I'm feeling, but I haven't found that person yet.
Not that their aren't people out there capable of listening to me, but when a mechanic needs advice, he talks to his fellow mechanics. I'm lookin to talk to a mechanic. I haven't found (mostly likely)her yet.
Anyways, I gotta go fold some clothes. Good night neverland.
I wanna get into a pen pal group. I've tried to friends, with no real successful correspondence in return. There's gotta be an internet site or somethin that will put me on the path to the right people. I think letter's are so neat, and some of the stories, quotes, and what not were told 1st in the form of a letter to a friend. Mark Twain was a letter writer. He wrote back and forth to one of my Favorite writers H.P. Lovecraft.
I think there's a special spirit of letter writing that is found from writing a letter, sealing the envelope, writing a sender's address, and putting it in the mailbox. Then one week later on the other side of the country, another person opens there mailbox and inside the box are bills, credit card applications, silly coupon booklets, catalogs, and every so often, a tad of nostalgia, as the receiver finds an envelope hand written by someone, who took the thought and effort to relay a message (hopefully a nice one) to them personally.
I want that.
Today, was the 1st rain of the fall season in the bay area, and it was pleasant as long as I wasn't working in it. Ha ha. I think I'll manage, if the temperature was any indication, it was slightly cold, but nothing ridiculous to the point of border-line freezing like how it is sometimes in Southern California. If you're saying "I dunno about that, Willy". Well then you're wrong and I'm right. Done.
Ummm let's see. I dunno what else to say. I think I need to write some stuff down, and write it down for myself. I have some thoughts, but I don't think they should be public. I wrote on my facebook status the other day "The Facebook taunt's me 'What's on your mind?' and I replied, 'The world is not ready'". And I wasn't kidding. I really have a lot to say, and maybe I'll express it all. Maybe never. I know somewhere out there, I will tell someone everything I'm feeling, but I haven't found that person yet.
Not that their aren't people out there capable of listening to me, but when a mechanic needs advice, he talks to his fellow mechanics. I'm lookin to talk to a mechanic. I haven't found (mostly likely)her yet.
Anyways, I gotta go fold some clothes. Good night neverland.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
This is very real
...and it was at this point that I put my hands in the air and said, "I've had enough" and I walked away, and I never questioned once whether you heard me or not. I just walked away.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
i'm frantically strumming
and I'm quietly shuffling
my fingers are fumbling
and voice so obviously quivering
trying to speak the words
the words that thousand folks said
so much better than I will ever say
but only feeling like there plastic
like silk roses, synthetic clothing.
I'm singin for everything I ever was
for everything i'll ever be
and cryptically telling you I'm nothing
I want to paint pictures with words
tell you that the freckles are eyelids
your skin stares at me and through me
I wanna tell you that highways and freeways
are filled with reds and with whites
with a subtle irony that they are the veins
of our nation, with each car a cell.
someday you'll know that the tv's a whore
and we actually pay for her shit?
that each star has exploded
and the images we see are the product
of an illiterate carnivore seeking for new blood
I'm starved little nation, fighting for peace
I'm a civil revolution rolled into a heart
how do I end this anyways?
and I'm quietly shuffling
my fingers are fumbling
and voice so obviously quivering
trying to speak the words
the words that thousand folks said
so much better than I will ever say
but only feeling like there plastic
like silk roses, synthetic clothing.
I'm singin for everything I ever was
for everything i'll ever be
and cryptically telling you I'm nothing
I want to paint pictures with words
tell you that the freckles are eyelids
your skin stares at me and through me
I wanna tell you that highways and freeways
are filled with reds and with whites
with a subtle irony that they are the veins
of our nation, with each car a cell.
someday you'll know that the tv's a whore
and we actually pay for her shit?
that each star has exploded
and the images we see are the product
of an illiterate carnivore seeking for new blood
I'm starved little nation, fighting for peace
I'm a civil revolution rolled into a heart
how do I end this anyways?
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Simple words like I, and ME
Are Drown out by the melody you sing
So quietly, I fall from the source
The vibration is clearly the gun
And I slip quickly in the firing line
Barely conscious, I smile in the dark
And kiss at jagged wooden splinters
Pausing to complete the electrical current
The synapse pauses to breathe
and I close my veins to slow the blood
Colors in these moments are
Blues, and greens and you's and Me's.
If I lunged for the air we breathe
and consumed with the zeal of a lion's grin
Don't be upset.
The blessing and dew that falls
That april morning will cleanse us all
My lines are clearly quivering...
Give me the doctor's dose
Double time people, double time.
I need these beats cause I have none of my own.
Are Drown out by the melody you sing
So quietly, I fall from the source
The vibration is clearly the gun
And I slip quickly in the firing line
Barely conscious, I smile in the dark
And kiss at jagged wooden splinters
Pausing to complete the electrical current
The synapse pauses to breathe
and I close my veins to slow the blood
Colors in these moments are
Blues, and greens and you's and Me's.
If I lunged for the air we breathe
and consumed with the zeal of a lion's grin
Don't be upset.
The blessing and dew that falls
That april morning will cleanse us all
My lines are clearly quivering...
Give me the doctor's dose
Double time people, double time.
I need these beats cause I have none of my own.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Dream 8/26/09
So, it started off in a home I didn't know, and I was with some friends, searching this home at night for kicks, we heard that it was haunted, and so we wanted to know what was up.
I remember beginning to sense that people were there, and I told my friends, hey I think people are here, we started lookin and sayin 'hello? Anyone here' sorta stuff. I guess I was the only one that felt a presence, cause my friends got bored and took off, but I stayed.
Of course, I felt that feeling like your being watched but it was a full moon that night,and light was seeping in from the windows, just giving enough light around the home, to make faint shadows of everything.
I started noticing that some of these shadows were moving. They only moved when I wasn't looking straight at them. Out of my periphery, I could see them quickly dart away. But the shadows seemed like nothing more than blurs.
But I guess I was adiment that these blurs or shadows were something else. I started talking to the shadows, and trying to coax them to do something to me, and the shadows began to move more,right in front of me, and soon I was being attacked and swept by these shadows. It didn't hurt, it just felt like wind. So I sort of started laughing at them, and a few shadows, came in front of me and materialized as people, but they were dark like shadows, almost sillouette's. One asked why I was laughing and I just told them I thought ghost were funny. And they said 'we're not ghosts. What are ghosts?' and I told them that they were the spirits of dead people, and they became really inquisitve and said 'people die?' for whatever reason, the concept of death and birth was foreign to them. And I sat down with these shadows, that looked human, only dark and grey, and almost flat like paper.. And I asked them 'well if your not ghosts, what are you?' and they said 'we are dark matter' and I woke up
I remember beginning to sense that people were there, and I told my friends, hey I think people are here, we started lookin and sayin 'hello? Anyone here' sorta stuff. I guess I was the only one that felt a presence, cause my friends got bored and took off, but I stayed.
Of course, I felt that feeling like your being watched but it was a full moon that night,and light was seeping in from the windows, just giving enough light around the home, to make faint shadows of everything.
I started noticing that some of these shadows were moving. They only moved when I wasn't looking straight at them. Out of my periphery, I could see them quickly dart away. But the shadows seemed like nothing more than blurs.
But I guess I was adiment that these blurs or shadows were something else. I started talking to the shadows, and trying to coax them to do something to me, and the shadows began to move more,right in front of me, and soon I was being attacked and swept by these shadows. It didn't hurt, it just felt like wind. So I sort of started laughing at them, and a few shadows, came in front of me and materialized as people, but they were dark like shadows, almost sillouette's. One asked why I was laughing and I just told them I thought ghost were funny. And they said 'we're not ghosts. What are ghosts?' and I told them that they were the spirits of dead people, and they became really inquisitve and said 'people die?' for whatever reason, the concept of death and birth was foreign to them. And I sat down with these shadows, that looked human, only dark and grey, and almost flat like paper.. And I asked them 'well if your not ghosts, what are you?' and they said 'we are dark matter' and I woke up
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I wrote this a while back and never finished. Unfortunately, I don't know where I was going with it, but I see now that it's pretty cool.
Does this begin with an opening sequence?
This visual Life, is it mirrored for me?
That's your life, that I pretended was mine,
till I saw how it ended and I pulled on the breaks.
So here I am now.
Screaming, "Oh my lord, not me as well!"
Close the curtains, and close up the casket.
All I ever looked for was the lives of the others.
Never focusing on the destiny of my very own.
I skipped that bridge, when I saw another get burned
I drove across the United states when I saw the plane dive.
Does this begin with an opening sequence?
This visual Life, is it mirrored for me?
That's your life, that I pretended was mine,
till I saw how it ended and I pulled on the breaks.
So here I am now.
Screaming, "Oh my lord, not me as well!"
Close the curtains, and close up the casket.
All I ever looked for was the lives of the others.
Never focusing on the destiny of my very own.
I skipped that bridge, when I saw another get burned
I drove across the United states when I saw the plane dive.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
I feel like I'm going crazy tonight. Its probably that I need more sleep but I am fit to be tied. Emphasis on feeling tied. I think I get in these moods where I feel like I can't be satisfied, I can't scream loud enough, run fast enough, or laugh hard enough. Ecstacy seems the goal and it is unreachable. Is this what a druggy feels like coming off a high? Sure makes me not wanna do that stuff huh? Uggh.. So many things I wish I could say. So many things should say. But this is nor the time nor the place. Maybe someday my words will have a place. Until then.. I guess I just have my music
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Another chill day. I'm listening to DJ shadow, and chillen in borders, cause my job effing rocks. Anyways, I went to a customers house this morning, and when we finished, my co-worker asked the gentlemen at the door, 'what is that tattoo of on your arm?'. I hadn't noticed his arm before, and at a glance his tattoo looked more like a scar of a surgery, because the coloring was read. I was very glad my co-worker asked what it read because it was written in gaelic. The quote said
'what we do in a lifetime will echo through eternity.'
How rad is that? It made me think. I'm really happy with my life as a wole for the most part. I could be in so many different situations, and i've made som dumb mistakes, but at the same time were totally necessesary for me to learn what life is. Can we really expect ourselves to not screw up? Life has taught me:
The difference between a stepping stone and a stumbling block is how you use it.
its the same as the lemon/lemonaide metaphor, but I feel like this relates better for me. I just wanna live a life that I can look back at and be proud of. Just like any builder or artist does with his or her project. We can only ask, did we use the skills we have for ourselves to the best of our ability, and our life, will be symbolically like a dedicated artists, masterpiece. One would hope.
Into the eternities, I know god will understand that I am no scientists, and my works in science will be but a miniscule portion compared to a gentleman like Albert Einstein. I know this. But god will see my strength in the arts, and see my strengths with my personality, and see that I have done my best to utilize them in a way to help other people in there hunt/quest for solice/nirvana/heaven. I just wanna be there for people so that my good works will echo through there voices, into the eternities that I was a good person
'what we do in a lifetime will echo through eternity.'
How rad is that? It made me think. I'm really happy with my life as a wole for the most part. I could be in so many different situations, and i've made som dumb mistakes, but at the same time were totally necessesary for me to learn what life is. Can we really expect ourselves to not screw up? Life has taught me:
The difference between a stepping stone and a stumbling block is how you use it.
its the same as the lemon/lemonaide metaphor, but I feel like this relates better for me. I just wanna live a life that I can look back at and be proud of. Just like any builder or artist does with his or her project. We can only ask, did we use the skills we have for ourselves to the best of our ability, and our life, will be symbolically like a dedicated artists, masterpiece. One would hope.
Into the eternities, I know god will understand that I am no scientists, and my works in science will be but a miniscule portion compared to a gentleman like Albert Einstein. I know this. But god will see my strength in the arts, and see my strengths with my personality, and see that I have done my best to utilize them in a way to help other people in there hunt/quest for solice/nirvana/heaven. I just wanna be there for people so that my good works will echo through there voices, into the eternities that I was a good person
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Synthetic vs Organic
The concept came to me while reading a book in Barnes and Noble today. It's kinda my new thing. Whenever I have a break, I find a book store, and I read a book, till I have to go to my next job. Books are my friends here.
I digress, so as I was reading, I was relating to the character of the story, and was noticing how my experiences matched his, or how they matched my friends, and then I also noticed how, he learned from others experience, and I thought about how I learn from other peoples experiences.
I've come to realize that there are two different variations of experience. They are, (of course) 1st hand experience and 2nd hand experience. I find these two terms to be very limiting, and very non-descriptive. I would prefer to use the terms, Organic (1st hand) and Synthetic (2nd hand) experience in life.
I suppose we need to understand the different concepts of what Organic and synthetic is. If you were took look up the terms for Organic and Synthetic, you may find a definition similar to these:
Organic - noting or pertaining to a class of chemical compounds that formerly comprised only those existing in or derived from plants or animals, but that now includes all other compounds of carbon.
Synthetic - noting or pertaining to compounds formed through a chemical process by human agency, as opposed to those of natural origin
We can see by there very definitions, the hints of how this may compare to human experience.
Organic experiences in our life, are experiences that we create for ourselves. A good example of this, is the concept of fire that every child must find when he is young. When a child grows, he is told by his guardians, "Do not touch the fire it's hot." The child must learn from personal(organic) experience that the fire is in fact hot, and hot enough that it will cause him pain. These Organic experience are felt all throughout life.
There are also Synthetic experiences we learn in life, that are very important. Synthetic experience are experiences we learn through the experience of others. For example, a human may avoid, substance abuse, because their friend or family member may have been addicted to a substance. They learn without ever experiencing personally the affects of this substance abuse, because they see what it has done to a loved one. They have learned to avoid the situation.
Organic and Synthetic products have become very important in our lives as we know it. They are in the clothes we wear, the food we eat, and in the drugs we take. Though potentially debatable, both synthetic and organic products are important in life. Synthetic is of course much more easily produced, and there is a lot more opportunity for synthetic products. But we find more often than not, that organic products are of a higher value. I would hope to relate this as well to the experiences of human life.
Although synthetic experiences are important, and save us the hassle of learning "the hard way", organic experiences in life, sometimes must be achieved. The concept of love and friendship and faith, are a few examples of experience, that can only be stood fully, in an organic atmosphere. It is true, that a person can learn love synthetically (or 2nd hand). But the experience is never truly like the real thing.
At the same time, synthetic experiences being what they are, are felt, seen, heard very often and can easily substitute for the 'real thing.' It takes less time, all too often, it takes less heartache, pain (be it physical or mental). We learn to extract through another's organic experience, the synthetic properties that will aid us in keeping ourselves warm, clean, and healthy.
I probably should take some time, and really write this into a stronger essay, with more scientific reasoning, but I'm mostly writing this on the fly, with the thoughts that are already on my head. What are your thoughts?
I digress, so as I was reading, I was relating to the character of the story, and was noticing how my experiences matched his, or how they matched my friends, and then I also noticed how, he learned from others experience, and I thought about how I learn from other peoples experiences.
I've come to realize that there are two different variations of experience. They are, (of course) 1st hand experience and 2nd hand experience. I find these two terms to be very limiting, and very non-descriptive. I would prefer to use the terms, Organic (1st hand) and Synthetic (2nd hand) experience in life.
I suppose we need to understand the different concepts of what Organic and synthetic is. If you were took look up the terms for Organic and Synthetic, you may find a definition similar to these:
Organic - noting or pertaining to a class of chemical compounds that formerly comprised only those existing in or derived from plants or animals, but that now includes all other compounds of carbon.
Synthetic - noting or pertaining to compounds formed through a chemical process by human agency, as opposed to those of natural origin
We can see by there very definitions, the hints of how this may compare to human experience.
Organic experiences in our life, are experiences that we create for ourselves. A good example of this, is the concept of fire that every child must find when he is young. When a child grows, he is told by his guardians, "Do not touch the fire it's hot." The child must learn from personal(organic) experience that the fire is in fact hot, and hot enough that it will cause him pain. These Organic experience are felt all throughout life.
There are also Synthetic experiences we learn in life, that are very important. Synthetic experience are experiences we learn through the experience of others. For example, a human may avoid, substance abuse, because their friend or family member may have been addicted to a substance. They learn without ever experiencing personally the affects of this substance abuse, because they see what it has done to a loved one. They have learned to avoid the situation.
Organic and Synthetic products have become very important in our lives as we know it. They are in the clothes we wear, the food we eat, and in the drugs we take. Though potentially debatable, both synthetic and organic products are important in life. Synthetic is of course much more easily produced, and there is a lot more opportunity for synthetic products. But we find more often than not, that organic products are of a higher value. I would hope to relate this as well to the experiences of human life.
Although synthetic experiences are important, and save us the hassle of learning "the hard way", organic experiences in life, sometimes must be achieved. The concept of love and friendship and faith, are a few examples of experience, that can only be stood fully, in an organic atmosphere. It is true, that a person can learn love synthetically (or 2nd hand). But the experience is never truly like the real thing.
At the same time, synthetic experiences being what they are, are felt, seen, heard very often and can easily substitute for the 'real thing.' It takes less time, all too often, it takes less heartache, pain (be it physical or mental). We learn to extract through another's organic experience, the synthetic properties that will aid us in keeping ourselves warm, clean, and healthy.
I probably should take some time, and really write this into a stronger essay, with more scientific reasoning, but I'm mostly writing this on the fly, with the thoughts that are already on my head. What are your thoughts?
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Oh man, its so great to be in California. I feel rejuvenated. I'm sleeping enough. I can actually get out of bed and not dread the day ahead of me. I'm in beloved state, and in the area I've dreamed of living for more than a year for. I'm happy. I've got a steady pay check. I can actually remember my dreams now again. This is all very important to me. I'm not as depressed as I was. In sales, I just had too much time to myself to reflect on my life. Too much time to dwell. I know the saying is, "Idle hands are the devils tools" and its totally true, in a scattered sorta way. I was a devil to myself. It's good to have a job where I feel I finally have purpose, and that I'm doing something for somebody else. That's only how I ever feel motivated for anything I guess.
With all this positive energy that I am pushing forward, I am committed to eating healthier, and experiencing food like I used to when I was younger. I used to always cook when I was younger. I used to bake chocolate chip cookies that were famous. Ask Paloma Printy Dunlap. She'll tell ya. I used to cook Asian food like nobody's business. Now it's time a for a new chapter.
Now its time for dips. Well, at least for this week. I made home-made salsa Monday, and its gone now. It was great. Even without cilantro (I accidentally got parsley in my rush to leave). Right now in the oven I have a new dip. I made artichoke-jalapeno dip. Which I'm sure will be really really good. Someone last night made an artichoke dip, and it was actually pretty lame, and I thought to myself, You know what? I can make this better. So I did. And my new thing now is I'm gonna list my new recipe's I've found and list them here. I dunno who will actually follow my recipe's but who cares. I'll give my opinions about them.
I dunno if I would consider this a new chapter in my life, that's a tad extreme, but it's time for me to rediscover my love for cooking. It's been too long. I'm really good at it. Time to get back into the game, and time to eat healthy. No more eating out :)
My jalapeno dip :)
* 1 (14-ounces) can artichoke hearts (not marinated), drained
* 2 cloves minced garlic
* 2 Jalapeño pepper, diced fine (may use pickled Jalapeños)
* 2 tablespoons jalapeno juice
* ½ cup sour cream
* 8 ounces cream cheese
* ½ cup mayonnaise
* 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Directions
1. Preheat your oven to 325º. Cut up artichoke hearts. Mix all ingredients and artichokes together with mixer. Pour mixture into baking dish. Bake uncovered until lightly browned on top (about 45 minutes to 1 hour). Serve with pita chips or tortilla chips
(update!!!!!)
Success! It wass soooo good, and suprisingly enough, could have used more jalapenos. I didn't want to burn my roommates mouths. So it was perfect for them!!!! YAY! Yep, I'll be savin this one fo sho.
(update!!!!! number 2!)
I was gone all day Sunday. I was in Sacramento. My roommates ate all of my dip, it was so good. Grrrrr...
With all this positive energy that I am pushing forward, I am committed to eating healthier, and experiencing food like I used to when I was younger. I used to always cook when I was younger. I used to bake chocolate chip cookies that were famous. Ask Paloma Printy Dunlap. She'll tell ya. I used to cook Asian food like nobody's business. Now it's time a for a new chapter.
Now its time for dips. Well, at least for this week. I made home-made salsa Monday, and its gone now. It was great. Even without cilantro (I accidentally got parsley in my rush to leave). Right now in the oven I have a new dip. I made artichoke-jalapeno dip. Which I'm sure will be really really good. Someone last night made an artichoke dip, and it was actually pretty lame, and I thought to myself, You know what? I can make this better. So I did. And my new thing now is I'm gonna list my new recipe's I've found and list them here. I dunno who will actually follow my recipe's but who cares. I'll give my opinions about them.
I dunno if I would consider this a new chapter in my life, that's a tad extreme, but it's time for me to rediscover my love for cooking. It's been too long. I'm really good at it. Time to get back into the game, and time to eat healthy. No more eating out :)
My jalapeno dip :)
* 1 (14-ounces) can artichoke hearts (not marinated), drained
* 2 cloves minced garlic
* 2 Jalapeño pepper, diced fine (may use pickled Jalapeños)
* 2 tablespoons jalapeno juice
* ½ cup sour cream
* 8 ounces cream cheese
* ½ cup mayonnaise
* 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Directions
1. Preheat your oven to 325º. Cut up artichoke hearts. Mix all ingredients and artichokes together with mixer. Pour mixture into baking dish. Bake uncovered until lightly browned on top (about 45 minutes to 1 hour). Serve with pita chips or tortilla chips
(update!!!!!)
Success! It wass soooo good, and suprisingly enough, could have used more jalapenos. I didn't want to burn my roommates mouths. So it was perfect for them!!!! YAY! Yep, I'll be savin this one fo sho.
(update!!!!! number 2!)
I was gone all day Sunday. I was in Sacramento. My roommates ate all of my dip, it was so good. Grrrrr...
Thursday, July 23, 2009
I was honestly just shopping online
Current mood: Smiling.
Current Song: Sufjan Stevens - Jacksonville
I love to imagine you in the clothes I've created.
I'd take the time to examine your figure.
Take all the measurements and look in your eyes,
and see how the fabric would compliment your smile.
I'm no seamstress, and my textiles may take time,
but in the meantime could I buy you your favorite shoes?
Would you allow me to buy you that pretty yellow dress?
Cause you're looking at it, like... maybe you should marry it.
So then I thought maybe I could get you another and surprise you.
I know you didn't like that dress but you still wore it.
And we fell more in love when you even admitted it wasn't your style.
I loved you for that because I knew that you meant it.
You don't keep anything from me, and you see we're like stitches.
We're like two cups of tea; I'll be peppermint, You can be whatever you like.
You're like that summer dress that I finally finished.
A tad shear, and you coulda fixed it, but you just wink.
I wanna be the boy with the straw hat, to take ya to the races.
Wanna be my gal?
Let's dress up in our Sunday best everyday,
And skim the pond in a boat for two.
I wanna meet with friends and peers,
you meet with your gal's and talk about how we're such slobs
and how our guy Tommy bought Suzy that lil Record player to dance to.
But we both know, we dance better than they ever did.
It's gonna be a good life, ya know.
Because ya know, well... You just know.
Current Song: Sufjan Stevens - Jacksonville
I love to imagine you in the clothes I've created.
I'd take the time to examine your figure.
Take all the measurements and look in your eyes,
and see how the fabric would compliment your smile.
I'm no seamstress, and my textiles may take time,
but in the meantime could I buy you your favorite shoes?
Would you allow me to buy you that pretty yellow dress?
Cause you're looking at it, like... maybe you should marry it.
So then I thought maybe I could get you another and surprise you.
I know you didn't like that dress but you still wore it.
And we fell more in love when you even admitted it wasn't your style.
I loved you for that because I knew that you meant it.
You don't keep anything from me, and you see we're like stitches.
We're like two cups of tea; I'll be peppermint, You can be whatever you like.
You're like that summer dress that I finally finished.
A tad shear, and you coulda fixed it, but you just wink.
I wanna be the boy with the straw hat, to take ya to the races.
Wanna be my gal?
Let's dress up in our Sunday best everyday,
And skim the pond in a boat for two.
I wanna meet with friends and peers,
you meet with your gal's and talk about how we're such slobs
and how our guy Tommy bought Suzy that lil Record player to dance to.
But we both know, we dance better than they ever did.
It's gonna be a good life, ya know.
Because ya know, well... You just know.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Mitch McKnight and Family, photos.
I had to cry when I saw these pictures. I had to laugh when I saw these pictures. So many different emotions. It's so much fun to see these pictures. Each individual with there unique personality. Autumn, so many times a spit-image of her mother, Is playful and sweet, and always the princess. Sarah the independent, goof-ball who is her own favorite audience, and the wheels of design are always spinning in her little head. Of course my brother, in whom the girls look to for everything, and for good reason. He is dad. Michelle Kendall, said in her post on the pictures that it pulls at your heartstrings, and that's for sure. I haven't had the emotions of wanting to cry for many months since Traci passed. The pictures is beautiful, but the last picture in this series really sums up the life ahead of them. Father staying at the level of his children to raise them, and the what lies behind them cannot be seen, only the bright future on the horizon. :)
Love my family I do.
I had to cry when I saw these pictures. I had to laugh when I saw these pictures. So many different emotions. It's so much fun to see these pictures. Each individual with there unique personality. Autumn, so many times a spit-image of her mother, Is playful and sweet, and always the princess. Sarah the independent, goof-ball who is her own favorite audience, and the wheels of design are always spinning in her little head. Of course my brother, in whom the girls look to for everything, and for good reason. He is dad. Michelle Kendall, said in her post on the pictures that it pulls at your heartstrings, and that's for sure. I haven't had the emotions of wanting to cry for many months since Traci passed. The pictures is beautiful, but the last picture in this series really sums up the life ahead of them. Father staying at the level of his children to raise them, and the what lies behind them cannot be seen, only the bright future on the horizon. :)
Love my family I do.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
I have a project.
I will finish it in a few weeks.
It's a surprise.
Someone's getting a surprise.
Joy.
It's good to do these things.
I love creativity.
Creativity loves me.
Someone will enjoy my creativity.
It will be honest and humble.
It will be like a blanket.
It will be made of familiar materials.
It will be warm.
I hope it makes them smile.
It makes me smile.
I have help.
They may think I need help. Just kidding.
I live in the Bay Area.
Finally.
Grin.
Grin.
Grin.
Grin.
Indefinite.
Cryptic.
So sorry.
Bed time. :)
I will finish it in a few weeks.
It's a surprise.
Someone's getting a surprise.
Joy.
It's good to do these things.
I love creativity.
Creativity loves me.
Someone will enjoy my creativity.
It will be honest and humble.
It will be like a blanket.
It will be made of familiar materials.
It will be warm.
I hope it makes them smile.
It makes me smile.
I have help.
They may think I need help. Just kidding.
I live in the Bay Area.
Finally.
Grin.
Grin.
Grin.
Grin.
Indefinite.
Cryptic.
So sorry.
Bed time. :)
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Hello bay area
I found this one too...
Good bye seattle. You were a sweet lover
But I must return to my dear mother
Hello california, yes, i've missed you
I know you've always done what you do
And smile a sunshine that forgives
The darkest of rainstorm that ever lived
A presence consuming, I express you
In no sphere consuming, can I repress you
Give you my heart for the fifth time
I may someday reject you,
Good bye seattle. You were a sweet lover
But I must return to my dear mother
Hello california, yes, i've missed you
I know you've always done what you do
And smile a sunshine that forgives
The darkest of rainstorm that ever lived
A presence consuming, I express you
In no sphere consuming, can I repress you
Give you my heart for the fifth time
I may someday reject you,
Monday, July 13, 2009
I should be sleeping. But something drives me to stay awake. I'm not even sure what it is? I am in one of those creative moods, where if I had the ability, like a virus, I would enter into any vulnerable person and make them feel what I've created. My mind is alive with the curiosity of a neglected subconscious. I am listening to Norma Jean, I was listening to Nine Inch Nails. Tonight is me expelling excess mental effort. What does a locomotive do when it comes to a stop? I think it releases its steam ballast. I dunno if they even call them that. Do I look like an engineer?
I am releasing this steam.
I've posted three times tonight. Two of which were from my head. One which was presented to me today in church and felt like others should read as well.
I like to smile.
But lately I haven't done it much. But who would know any different in Seattle? Do they know that I smile a lot in california? My cheeks hurt after a while when I try to smile. That didn't used to happen? Did I leave my smile in california? Who has my smile? Do you have my smile?
Do we smile together often?
Toms, are a drug. The shoe. It's a drug. I brought them with me, and already, three people have hopped on the tom Train. See there it is. Train.
I wanna go on a train. I wanna look out the window and realize I'm on a one way track to a destination of bliss whatever. Call me sanguine.
I should sleep. I should sleep. I should sleep.
Meet me in my dreams please.
I am releasing this steam.
I've posted three times tonight. Two of which were from my head. One which was presented to me today in church and felt like others should read as well.
I like to smile.
But lately I haven't done it much. But who would know any different in Seattle? Do they know that I smile a lot in california? My cheeks hurt after a while when I try to smile. That didn't used to happen? Did I leave my smile in california? Who has my smile? Do you have my smile?
Do we smile together often?
Toms, are a drug. The shoe. It's a drug. I brought them with me, and already, three people have hopped on the tom Train. See there it is. Train.
I wanna go on a train. I wanna look out the window and realize I'm on a one way track to a destination of bliss whatever. Call me sanguine.
I should sleep. I should sleep. I should sleep.
Meet me in my dreams please.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
It's a good night
I'm on a roll
The world is at war because of clever magicians.
They've killed enough doves, in a crudely formed guise
There methods are shallow, and baptized in mischief
Yet we applaud there pony act
And throw them our roses
Each magicians a player
Trying to out smart the other
Use there tactics against them
And bedazzle there devotees
I'm a follower I admit it
I give praise to performance
But the tricks they're presenting leave me tired and restless
I sleep and I wonder
'what part was the prestige?'
What part was the sacrifice
and what did we loose?
What gain was the audience?
Did we smile at the end?
Whatever it was, it all seemed pretend
The world is at war because of clever magicians.
They've killed enough doves, in a crudely formed guise
There methods are shallow, and baptized in mischief
Yet we applaud there pony act
And throw them our roses
Each magicians a player
Trying to out smart the other
Use there tactics against them
And bedazzle there devotees
I'm a follower I admit it
I give praise to performance
But the tricks they're presenting leave me tired and restless
I sleep and I wonder
'what part was the prestige?'
What part was the sacrifice
and what did we loose?
What gain was the audience?
Did we smile at the end?
Whatever it was, it all seemed pretend
The Race
By Dr. D.H. "Dee" Groberg
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
House of Emotion
This is not a house of glass. This is not a house of stone. This perfect frame is translucent, and this translucent house is subject to natural cause. It feels warmer in the sun, and colder in the clouds, and although the subjects inside are safe, they are all on display.
You can throw your stones. No worries. It chips, and repairs, and fades.
The house was built for honest purposes, and all materials used were to allow you to see what a family is. So when the door is shut, still, inside all can be seen. The subjects know they are watched, and they usually don’t mind.
But when they try to tell you that everything is the way it should be, you know better, because you’ve got a very public view of what is really going inside of the house.
It’s just a cage really, these are my pet emotions.
Each emotion enjoys there respective seasons, and in this house the translucent frame shows all. Friends, family, and passersby stop to see the commotion. Some may even seemed concerned, but who is to tell a family how to function?
Maybe the family of another house of emotions may come by, and the emotions will intermingle and share memories. The holidays are always a great time, ya know.
It’s funny how each house is built differently. Is there any perfect design? Some are made like fortresses and others are thin and may fall like the leaves of a season.
It would seem that certain designs would be proper with there surroundings. A home surrounded by evil may stay boarded up quite often. A home peaceful in the hills nestled by nature would keep opened up to enjoy the views of the earth. Sure there are those houses who don’t fit with there surroundings, but what do we know? The family knew best right?? Right?
But I wouldn’t build a mansion in the slums, I wouldn’t build a shack in the west hills. But the phrase, “To each, his own” seems proper.
You can throw your stones. No worries. It chips, and repairs, and fades.
The house was built for honest purposes, and all materials used were to allow you to see what a family is. So when the door is shut, still, inside all can be seen. The subjects know they are watched, and they usually don’t mind.
But when they try to tell you that everything is the way it should be, you know better, because you’ve got a very public view of what is really going inside of the house.
It’s just a cage really, these are my pet emotions.
Each emotion enjoys there respective seasons, and in this house the translucent frame shows all. Friends, family, and passersby stop to see the commotion. Some may even seemed concerned, but who is to tell a family how to function?
Maybe the family of another house of emotions may come by, and the emotions will intermingle and share memories. The holidays are always a great time, ya know.
It’s funny how each house is built differently. Is there any perfect design? Some are made like fortresses and others are thin and may fall like the leaves of a season.
It would seem that certain designs would be proper with there surroundings. A home surrounded by evil may stay boarded up quite often. A home peaceful in the hills nestled by nature would keep opened up to enjoy the views of the earth. Sure there are those houses who don’t fit with there surroundings, but what do we know? The family knew best right?? Right?
But I wouldn’t build a mansion in the slums, I wouldn’t build a shack in the west hills. But the phrase, “To each, his own” seems proper.
Friday, July 3, 2009
You're gonna have to excuse my posts for the next two months while in seattle. I don't have the internet for my computer, so I just use my trusty palm pre. It's nice, and works well, but I can't type half as fast I can my keyboard, and also I can't really read my blogs as I write tem because the screen is too small.
Todays blog is short and simple. In washington, I don't have any real true friends. Friends yes, true friends no. I don't even really have a best friend who I confide in everything. So I'm trying to make best friends with work. It's a little tough.
Todays blog is short and simple. In washington, I don't have any real true friends. Friends yes, true friends no. I don't even really have a best friend who I confide in everything. So I'm trying to make best friends with work. It's a little tough.
Monday, June 29, 2009
It's aleays right before lunch that I feel the need to write. But that's because my mind is dreaming all the way till 1 anyways... I think its true. I'm not dreaming as much lately. I sleep a very deep sleep, because work is pretty tiring I guess. But last night was interesting. I finally got my computer set up for recording. I'm excited, especially, because i've rediscovered older songs, that sing/play differently than they ever have. New emotions, concepts are beginning to make a row in my head. This new climate and city is making for special themes. I thin k my concepts of trees will take a little longer, because I have some single ideas that should be put on wax, with what has already been sonicallycreated. I'm pretty excited. I played some new songs for my roommates and when I first started playing they were loud and obnoxious. By the end, they were silent and focused; mission accomplished.
Seattle is so cool. I love this city. I could seriously live here. What about the rain? Well I definattely wouldn't want to live hetre alone that's for sure. But I think it would be a great place to live, otherwise. The people here, are my people and it makes me feel so good to be accepted. I wish people enjoyed beards and moustaches more here though. In california, we love our moustaches. I guess washington is just too far behind.
Transformers 2 was awesome. Megan fox was hot, but yes, it was a little much. But she's still hot.
The hangover was pretty funny. It wasn't as funny as some of the others, but alex was one of the funniest characters I can think of to date. It was like dumb and dumber meets jack black, meets juno. Good times.
Anyways, I can't wait to start working and lyrics and melodies, but I need to rent or find a better vocal mic. Maybe a nice nuemanns or an AKG eh? Smexy
Seattle is so cool. I love this city. I could seriously live here. What about the rain? Well I definattely wouldn't want to live hetre alone that's for sure. But I think it would be a great place to live, otherwise. The people here, are my people and it makes me feel so good to be accepted. I wish people enjoyed beards and moustaches more here though. In california, we love our moustaches. I guess washington is just too far behind.
Transformers 2 was awesome. Megan fox was hot, but yes, it was a little much. But she's still hot.
The hangover was pretty funny. It wasn't as funny as some of the others, but alex was one of the funniest characters I can think of to date. It was like dumb and dumber meets jack black, meets juno. Good times.
Anyways, I can't wait to start working and lyrics and melodies, but I need to rent or find a better vocal mic. Maybe a nice nuemanns or an AKG eh? Smexy
Monday, June 22, 2009
Its been too long I think
I was inspired to write this as I read my friends page. She had changed the name of her blog so it represented her life and who she is more fully. Which got me thinking, what does my blog title reflect of me? Is its name accurate? I've realized it is. So much so that since moving to washington, I am obsessed with the roads people have built in the cities I service. I love to drive down them for the sake of enjoying road and its physical features (pot holes, dips and hills etc), the sights and surrounding, and the the thought of what is at the end. Does it run into a beach? Does it run into a house? Maybe I can turn left or right. These different variables keep me exploring new roads,even if my friends just think I'm lost.
Is there a metaphor to this? Certainly. I suppose I love the roads of my mind, I love the roads of goals, and of friendships, and of relationship. Each of which, bring new sights sounds and options. Like some roads, you shouldn't go down them. Maybe its the vehicle in which you are driving it down that may make your trip seem uncertain of success. You may find yourself alone and realize that going at it alone will leave you stranded in a neighborhood, or situation, maybe an emotional disposition.
What roads do we choose? Why do we choose them? Why go down one if you don't know where it will lead? Because its fun. I find myself going down many roads for the thrill of where it will lead. I suppose I can look back and see that there are some roads I should not traveled, only for the fact that they went to a dead in.
I suppose I fear going backwards. I am always looking forward. It could be that, that is my struggle with life, is is learning when to stop and turn back around. Being as stubborn ad I am, I always assume there is another turn, or another road that will head toward a more sure exit, back to the roads I am more familiar with. There are times I may be with a person eho knows the roads better than I. But if I am in the drivers seat. Damned if I dont go down the path of my choose, for better or for worse.
But what about the roads we ourselves build? Like any good engineer, he studies his predecessors. He builds his roads. As a student he makes mistakes. But with a heart and resolve to become more excellent, he learns from his mistakes, and creates, more masterful roads, that others can travel down too.
I suppose I may have built a road just now.
(unedited on purpose)
Is there a metaphor to this? Certainly. I suppose I love the roads of my mind, I love the roads of goals, and of friendships, and of relationship. Each of which, bring new sights sounds and options. Like some roads, you shouldn't go down them. Maybe its the vehicle in which you are driving it down that may make your trip seem uncertain of success. You may find yourself alone and realize that going at it alone will leave you stranded in a neighborhood, or situation, maybe an emotional disposition.
What roads do we choose? Why do we choose them? Why go down one if you don't know where it will lead? Because its fun. I find myself going down many roads for the thrill of where it will lead. I suppose I can look back and see that there are some roads I should not traveled, only for the fact that they went to a dead in.
I suppose I fear going backwards. I am always looking forward. It could be that, that is my struggle with life, is is learning when to stop and turn back around. Being as stubborn ad I am, I always assume there is another turn, or another road that will head toward a more sure exit, back to the roads I am more familiar with. There are times I may be with a person eho knows the roads better than I. But if I am in the drivers seat. Damned if I dont go down the path of my choose, for better or for worse.
But what about the roads we ourselves build? Like any good engineer, he studies his predecessors. He builds his roads. As a student he makes mistakes. But with a heart and resolve to become more excellent, he learns from his mistakes, and creates, more masterful roads, that others can travel down too.
I suppose I may have built a road just now.
(unedited on purpose)
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