I wrote this for Myspace in the "about me" section, instead of the usual "HI MY NAME IS" bullshit. Booooooring!
I'm the bees fuckin' knees, I want to cut down every tree in the rain forest & recycle oxygen for more than it's worth.
I want to find the core & cut it into two divided slices of earth.
I want to assassinate Facebook (and Myspace) from my tiny, barely existent brain, but I've been trained by a higher power to devour the slightest scent of sweet & sour, to become one with the mass murderer of our generation: technology.
As long as I'm the same sane, indifferent, uncharacteristic ordinary girl, at least I'm safe. At least I can go on pretending & contend that I'm oh-so different from you all.
I know my mind is cluttered, and I know it's no excuse. But the truth is immutable, my friends, as is the tendency to distract & to be distracted.
Do yourself a favor & open your eyes just one last time. Keep those lids open wide and give that mime suit the boot, it doesn't fit your limbs any longer.
Not one of you is as naive or ignorant as you believe yourself to be. Realize this & you'll be a tyrant to the wealth of your liking, and while you're at it, help me save the world.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Blast from the past
This piece of writing is gonna start while I'm in the process of a writers block, sorta to work my way through it I guess instead of just letting it eat away at me until I gather my thoughts completely.. fuck that.
A blast from the past happened today, and yesterday, too. And the day before that. It happens every day actually; like re-acquainting oneself. A blast from the past won't last in your memory for too long, they're nothing more or less than a flash in a movie.
This movie, seems to continue forever
not only through me, but through other people
through the way things are and the way they would've been; the world as we know it
through and through
It's tough to swallow, like a pill when you have a really sore throat.
If I wasn't alive right now, things would still remain. Ouch, what a blow to the ego!
It's intimidating; the world as we know it
Why does everyone believe they are so meaningless? A legitimate connection exists within the way things happen
& the way things are
other than through myself, I am an instrument,
but I'm no different.
The movie will end eventually... but would the ending be happy?
Happy as in peaceful, harmonious.
I'll never know for sure.
Can I learn myself through another, through blood of mine;
literally and hypothetically,
washing my hands in the reservoir of serenity?
Why not compromising with what you can't win? Like a business deal,
like trading secrets just to gain secrets.
Secrets are symbols, they hold power. Sharing secrets holds power,
I am a tyrant to the wealth of my liking. I still have writer's block, what the fuck.
Dealing with emotions takes work. It's fucking draining, really.
I'd rather be informed than ignorant
I'd rather speak "the truth", not
"my truth".
Where does one draw the line, though? I guess I'll never really know
I'm so quick to judge.. maybe not.
I guess I'll always be alittle bit insecure of the things I write.. with great power comes great responsibility. Writing gives power to anyone, really. Anyone has the right to write, but I don't think enough people write.
And if they do, they're selfconscious about it! Always.
Selfconsciousness is only a problem when it holds me back from just saying what I have to say, even if I have no idea what that is.
Like I said, I'm an instrument
I don't always understand, that's the point.. the drive, motivation.
Questions are motivation.
Secrets are motivation.
Metaphors are beautiful. I spend way too much time explaining myself,
metaphors created with actions, not words
mean something even bigger. Manificent, actually.
In size that is.
The more I write, the better of a writer I become. It's as simple as that,
practice really does make perfect.
Well, maybe not perfect... but perfection doesn't really exist anyway.
It's a goal to meet.
Perfection isn't enough of an incentive for me to practice.
Perfection isn't something to strive towards at all
Why would I set myself up for failure? I wouldn't.
Maybe not perfection, but I know I want to be good at writing. It's a skill, which takes patience
like any other
It's 11:11
Make a wish.
A blast from the past happened today, and yesterday, too. And the day before that. It happens every day actually; like re-acquainting oneself. A blast from the past won't last in your memory for too long, they're nothing more or less than a flash in a movie.
This movie, seems to continue forever
not only through me, but through other people
through the way things are and the way they would've been; the world as we know it
through and through
It's tough to swallow, like a pill when you have a really sore throat.
If I wasn't alive right now, things would still remain. Ouch, what a blow to the ego!
It's intimidating; the world as we know it
Why does everyone believe they are so meaningless? A legitimate connection exists within the way things happen
& the way things are
other than through myself, I am an instrument,
but I'm no different.
The movie will end eventually... but would the ending be happy?
Happy as in peaceful, harmonious.
I'll never know for sure.
Can I learn myself through another, through blood of mine;
literally and hypothetically,
washing my hands in the reservoir of serenity?
Why not compromising with what you can't win? Like a business deal,
like trading secrets just to gain secrets.
Secrets are symbols, they hold power. Sharing secrets holds power,
I am a tyrant to the wealth of my liking. I still have writer's block, what the fuck.
Dealing with emotions takes work. It's fucking draining, really.
I'd rather be informed than ignorant
I'd rather speak "the truth", not
"my truth".
Where does one draw the line, though? I guess I'll never really know
I'm so quick to judge.. maybe not.
I guess I'll always be alittle bit insecure of the things I write.. with great power comes great responsibility. Writing gives power to anyone, really. Anyone has the right to write, but I don't think enough people write.
And if they do, they're selfconscious about it! Always.
Selfconsciousness is only a problem when it holds me back from just saying what I have to say, even if I have no idea what that is.
Like I said, I'm an instrument
I don't always understand, that's the point.. the drive, motivation.
Questions are motivation.
Secrets are motivation.
Metaphors are beautiful. I spend way too much time explaining myself,
metaphors created with actions, not words
mean something even bigger. Manificent, actually.
In size that is.
The more I write, the better of a writer I become. It's as simple as that,
practice really does make perfect.
Well, maybe not perfect... but perfection doesn't really exist anyway.
It's a goal to meet.
Perfection isn't enough of an incentive for me to practice.
Perfection isn't something to strive towards at all
Why would I set myself up for failure? I wouldn't.
Maybe not perfection, but I know I want to be good at writing. It's a skill, which takes patience
like any other
It's 11:11
Make a wish.
and bingo was his name-oh
To be, or not to be? Sweet, I'm quoting Shakespeare now. What the fuck is going on? I cease to surprise myself.
Selfishness vs. Selflessness
TO BE!
or not to be?
Everyday I battle between the two,
they confuse the already oh so chaotic chitter-chatter in my
CRANIUM
Can I be selfish while still being a selfless person?
There's no answer. Maybe there is, but it's conflicted
It could be yes OR no
My actions signify my character
MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
Can I beat the system of the constant give and take
Without faking? Just giving.
Can I be selfless and still feel fulfilled?
I want to manipulate the system
Scratch that.
I want to CONTINUE manipulating the system
I’m on the right track. I hope so, at least..
Selfishness vs. Selflessness
TO SHOW!
or not to show?
Can I be subtle while still being obvious?
What’s so intoxicating about subtly, anyway?
It’s a tool.
Can I claim my beauty without sounding condescending?
Everyone’s just so caught up in what everyone thinks.
Beauty is powerful, it should not be hidden.
I'm not talking about beauty only in it’s physical form
It’s just another talent or trait, like the ability to paint,
Like the color of one's eye
A gift given at birth;
Like the earth, it CLAIMS the soil that abodes within and around it
It does not deny it. It is what it is,
Like an undeniable sense of style.
Just another subtlety
TO BELIEVE!
or not to believe?
I’ve taken Bukowski’s advice (but haven‘t we all?)
I believe everything that I can.
MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
They are one, yet three
Separate entities
All needing a specific fix of their own
A thought for the mind, a meal for the body, a fuck for the soul.
A thought, a meal, and a good fuck, any fuck for that matter,
affect all three in different ways
All are equally important.
Can I be distracted while simultaneously & synchronically
be fully absorbed?
Irony.
TO FINISH!
or not to finish?
Conclusions never cease to mind-fuck me
But even though the words will end,
I will not!
That realization never ceases to amaze me.
But I must finish, above all else, I must.
Am I in your head yet?
This draft turned out better than the one before
that erased itself
or was erased by some "higher power"
It’s 6:32 in the morning, my insomnia is coming back
But I don’t mind!
Night-time leaves room to think, leaves room for freedom.
Freedom of the
MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
& I always take what I can get.
Selfishness vs. Selflessness
TO BE!
or not to be?
Everyday I battle between the two,
they confuse the already oh so chaotic chitter-chatter in my
CRANIUM
Can I be selfish while still being a selfless person?
There's no answer. Maybe there is, but it's conflicted
It could be yes OR no
My actions signify my character
MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
Can I beat the system of the constant give and take
Without faking? Just giving.
Can I be selfless and still feel fulfilled?
I want to manipulate the system
Scratch that.
I want to CONTINUE manipulating the system
I’m on the right track. I hope so, at least..
Selfishness vs. Selflessness
TO SHOW!
or not to show?
Can I be subtle while still being obvious?
What’s so intoxicating about subtly, anyway?
It’s a tool.
Can I claim my beauty without sounding condescending?
Everyone’s just so caught up in what everyone thinks.
Beauty is powerful, it should not be hidden.
I'm not talking about beauty only in it’s physical form
It’s just another talent or trait, like the ability to paint,
Like the color of one's eye
A gift given at birth;
Like the earth, it CLAIMS the soil that abodes within and around it
It does not deny it. It is what it is,
Like an undeniable sense of style.
Just another subtlety
TO BELIEVE!
or not to believe?
I’ve taken Bukowski’s advice (but haven‘t we all?)
I believe everything that I can.
MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
They are one, yet three
Separate entities
All needing a specific fix of their own
A thought for the mind, a meal for the body, a fuck for the soul.
A thought, a meal, and a good fuck, any fuck for that matter,
affect all three in different ways
All are equally important.
Can I be distracted while simultaneously & synchronically
be fully absorbed?
Irony.
TO FINISH!
or not to finish?
Conclusions never cease to mind-fuck me
But even though the words will end,
I will not!
That realization never ceases to amaze me.
But I must finish, above all else, I must.
Am I in your head yet?
This draft turned out better than the one before
that erased itself
or was erased by some "higher power"
It’s 6:32 in the morning, my insomnia is coming back
But I don’t mind!
Night-time leaves room to think, leaves room for freedom.
Freedom of the
MIND, BODY, AND SOUL
& I always take what I can get.
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