Rambling Nonsense on a Friday Night

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Sometimes it can feel like you are floating through life; the expectations that others have for you, weighing heavy on your thoughts.  You don’t know where you are going, and maybe only have a faint idea of where you would like to go but that isn’t good enough.  It’s not good enough for the hungry questions they keep asking you.  It’s not enough for the questioning and sometimes disappointed looks in their eyes.  According to them, you never made it and they feel responsible.  They feel responsible for some sick and selfish reason, that honestly has nothing to do with them.

Honesty aside, it possibly does have something to do with them.  If they weren’t always trying to steer you in the “right” direction and their expectations weren’t burning holes into you at night, then maybe you would have had a better idea of what YOU actually want.  Maybe, you might actually already be where you want to be (or maybe it would be easier to realize that you are there already).  It doesn’t matter if you have some big title, fancy house, and/or a wife and three kids.  No, it doesn’t matter if you have all your money organized, and put away into pretty little accounts, so you can go away on weekends.  It doesn’t matter if you fit into this nice little box of what it means to be an adult. None of that matters, unless it truly matters to YOU and you alone.

If you’re happy working odd jobs, travelling the world and living in your car…  being colourful or quiet or weird. If you dropped out of college because it just didn’t feel right… or if you never went at all, because you just couldn’t seem to fathom it, though everyone kept telling you that’s where you ought to be… If you’re happy with how you have chosen to move forward in life, then stop being unhappy because other people think that you should be.

Stop wasting time, waiting for the future that others have planned for you.  Go out there and just be you.  You don’t owe anyone a single thing.  There’s only one person you owe, and that person is yourself.  You owe yourself the motivation to do what is right for you, and the strength to stand by that.  You owe yourself kind words of support and optimism.  You owe yourself the chance to get off of the hamster wheel and to go to where you feel the most yourself.  You don’t really owe yourself much, but it’s worth a lifetime.

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More Birds, Bugs, and Boats

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Birds, Bugs, and Boats… and Nelsolonika?

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Birds, Bugs, and Boats Cont.

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When You Weren’t Looking

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It seems like there has been a lot of death around me lately.  Usually it’s not something I feel comfortable talking about but it’s been making me feel so much.  I’ve decided that maybe the best way to deal with these feelings is to write.

You hear about people dying in genocides, terrorist attacks, wars of religion etc. and it has become such a common occurrence that that now it no longer phases us.  Not one of us remembers the faces of the dead who bare no names.  Not one of us remembers the names of the of the dead who bare no connection to our world.  We go on like nothing is happening.  We live in a paradise, with our backs to the shadows.

Sometimes death will hit very close to home.  It’s harder to ignore.  Yet I’ve noticed that somehow we are all still withdrawn, even once death has now made itself very real.  Even once death has touched us.  Is it all the death on the news, in the movies, and in our games?  Or is it normal?  Is it normal that no one seems to ache for the loss of precious lives?  Or is it weird to feel such anguish, when you have no connection to the deceased?

I am sure people do feel something when strangers pass but they have just become so skilled at isolating themselves from it.

I know I am not alone in feeling such pain for the dead.  I know I am not alone in feeling such pain for their families.  I know I am not alone in wishing I could fix what was broken… but I feel so empty.  What is the point?  Why are the least deserving taken the earliest?  Who decides their fate?  I am sure that is not the choice they would have made.

Life is so fleeting, so beautiful, and so full of pain.  It is a light in the darkness that you weren’t sure you saw.  It is that taste in your mouth that you can’t seem to place.  Life is time that passed when you weren’t looking and now you can’t remember where you’ve come from.  And in the end, it doesn’t really matter, because it’ll all be gone once you get where you’re going.

I think it’s really disturbing that at one moment, everything could be fine.  Then in a second later, the world flips, and you’re gone; as fast as sparks flying up from the fire.  There is no goodbye, the end comes too fast.

Now here I am by myself, crying for all the people I don’t know and never will.  I am thinking of all the things they’ll never see, all the things they’ll never do, and always wondering why they weren’t supposed to.

My Fear

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Fear is a large blanket, covered in many different scenarios.  Fear means many things to many people.  For me fear is the movement of six little legs, moving my way.  Fear is standing on the peak of my favourite mountain, looking down, and trying not to let the edge pull me off.  It is the affection of a lover from whom I have yet  to gain trust.  Fear comes to me in the form of a compliment I do not believe.  Fear is not knowing what is lurking in the shadows when I am alone in the eve’.  Fear is opening up my doors and dropping all of my walls with a very great chance of being burned.  I am afraid of moments like this, writing a post, where I fear I am unable to outdo my last one. Fear is that moment when my heart nearly stops in my chest and I don’t know what to do next to change the path of the situation.  Fear is the bane of my existence.  The thing that holds me back from all of the wild adventure in the unknown.  Fear for me is the word “no” when “yes” should be the only answer.

 

What is fear for you?

 

All pictures and words are my own.©

Someone I See But Do Not Know

Jittery and abrupt, this man takes no time to be patient.  His body quivers with the anticipation of his daily coffee.  It is not the happy quiver of excitement that consumes him, but the shakes of a man seeking an escape.  I never knew that coffee could be an escape but I suppose it may be for some.

His eyes jump out at me as he asks for his regular coffee and he tells me all the woes that have ruined his day.  It is only 9 am and he has no optimism for what may come.  His coffee is a centimeter too high in his cup, his voice grows.  I dump it out and it becomes too low.  Finally the perfect height is reached and he pays, demanding a receipt.  I smile anyways and he gives me a look which is neither friendly or unkind.  He holds that look for a long moment before finally turning away.

I watch him leave and walk a few meters from the shop.  He lights a cigarette and stares off into traffic.  His windbreaker jacket is an awkward shade of blue and stands out amongst the many people walking by.  I then notice the way his faded baseball cap makes his graying tufts of hair stick out at awkward angles.  Staring at him, I can’t help but wonder about this man and what created him into such an awkward character.  However, there is one thing I am sure of… he will be back in 20 minutes for his free refill.

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The Fear Inside

Fear resides inside of us.  The fear of “I’m not good enough” and “What will __ think?”.  These are the fears of the fully capables and the doubtfuls; the creatives, and the brains.  These are the fears of you and I, the fears of the girl in the craft aisle as she sets down the paints.  These are the fears of the man outside the music shop, looking in wistfully at the guitar inside.  These are the fears of the business man in the tattoo parlor, the cashier singing in the shower, and the boy down the road who’s hiding his paintings. Why is creativity so intimidating? Why do we believe that our creations should be the same as those of an artist we look up to? And why the hell isn’t my stuff as good as that writer over there?  Well that’s simply because we decided that for ourselves.

This fear we are constantly worrying about isn’t real.  Not even that fear of what someone will think of that wacky outfit that you love but don’t wear.  And no, not just the creative fears.  We live in a weird world where everyone is afraid.  We are afraid to dress, afraid to eat, afraid to dance, afraid to laugh, sing, speak, play, and simply be ourselves.  And who created this nonsense? No one but us of course.  I say this reign of nonsensical fear must end.

We must slip out from beneath our cloaks of doubt, and slip eager toes into the basin of possibility.  We must shout out our passion from the rooftops and run through the streets without a care.  We must forget about the thoughts of others and instead spend a lot more time in our own minds.  What is YOUR opinion?  What is YOUR passion? Who are YOU and who could YOU be?  I am not saying we shut our minds off to the ideas of others but we must not ever forget our own.

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I Am

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I am procrastination at its finest

Its juiciest and its ripest

I have many dreams and ambitions

Never to unfold

I am the tail end of a story

Never to be told

I am that dream in the night

That easily escapes no matter how hard you fight

So long to such feelings

Give in to believing

In the miracles that live in your mind

The art of relaxing, it is divine

Give in to temptation

Like the warm covers keeping you from facing a nation

I am procrastination at its finest

Its juiciest and its ripest

Just take a bite.

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