Tread Lightly, Enter At Your Own Discretion (This thing is a mess)

What of the world in my head right now?
What of the ability and struggle to arrange and rearrange words to imitate and represent things no word was ever born from? What of the tangled mess that is any one thought, tied up in everything else dwelling in mind, body and heart?

--However, A paragraph composed entirely of questions is not fun to read, no matter whether or not if I intend to answer them--

But the thought, the idea, floaty as it may be, --flighty as my writing is-- but the knotted thread and pathway of every concept, including god. The inability to vilify or angelicize anything altogether or entirely. This, in my mind, at least, makes it difficult to communicate effectively or confidently. Or even, I suppose, to make decisions.
Catching yourself in your ego-trapping, then writing that sentence and kind of mentally tripping. A shrug of shoulders and we move on, not to take anyone entirely at any one thing said.
What is life going to be like? Every year learning you knew nothing? Continually afraid, but watching for the day fear no longer comes knocking, but perhaps afraid even of that moment? (I'm really not as paralyzed by fear as I sound sometimes, I write more of my fear than of my courage.)

Look at us, finding ourselves every where. Resolving and falling and resolving again, self-conscious. Wondering if there is a place for our voice, flawed and inarticulate, though still beautiful, amongst all of those other voices, similar or not.


I sit here and pick myself apart, lay it all out in the air around me, suspended in reds and purples and whites. Constructing a world around myself, hopefully, but still not finding it altogether to my liking, and at the same time, feeling overwhelmed by what I perceive as the "outside world". Being terribly afraid of a god separate from me who would direct me where I don't want to go, though I say god is everywhere, in everyone, including at the heart of me.
I cannot see everything, but I would say that god sees everything. Even as this lends me trust and some form of faith, it opens all sorts of new intimidating doors, and trust ebbs away.
Not knowing the future, not knowing what will happen, but trying so hard to figure out how. Looking for when, straining to open my eyes, to see things clearly, and then blinding myself from (repetitious use of the word, but whatever) fear of what may be. Trying to know but not knowing and cringing at the prospect and offering of knowledge.
I once heard tell of a poem comparing communication, friendship, and love to two people flashing each other back and forth, lifting and peeling away clothing experimentally, weighing the other person's reactions. Rather ingenious, I'd say.
But that begs the question; why not just be soul and heart and personality-naked from the get go? Honestly though, even if we got past that particular affection, it still takes time to peel the skin away, for hearts to become familiar.

***

I've never attempted to articulate all of this before. None of it is concrete, all of it is a towering, flickering column or cylinder of fire. I have a thousand hands, and on each of them sits a small person, their own hands (more than just two) raised to eternity, mouths open and speaking in tongues on serene or animated faces. I don't know if anything will ever be black and white to me, even as I search so hard for the "right" path.

To break and comment for a moment: This page is not just white, it is flaming in so many colors, tangled with lush living leaves and bone and sinew. And back to the dance;

But bah, It is all in my own head, and who am I to influence the eyes and hearts of others? This is nothing but a page, with not even the barest trace of my fingerprints upon it.
What could it possibly retain of me? I suppose, however, that is the purpose of myth and story and metaphor; to put one's own personal stamp upon words strung together in infinite and impersonal combinations. What is the point of striving for that, though? Why should it matter?
I feel like I myself am fluid and blank, but I'm sure that too is untrue. Even as I so "modestly" back down from uniqueness, I am everywhere; I remember that in some way -on one of those hands- I am only here, therefore nowhere therefore both nothing and no less than everything. Monotone.
Have I lost you yet?
I am trying to leave a trail, but I don't know if it followable, for I created it and in creating it, I follow invisible trails of mind where I neglected to drop breadcrumb, ergo that does not mean it is in any way sensible to another person.

If I can be so many flavors, hypothetically so many people, does that mean I am nobody? Or a new kind of self? But that too is presumptuous. Guessing and theorizing and second-guessing and cross-referencing and doing it all far too shoddily in almost the only way I know how. But life is like cake, there is more than one way to bake cake, and more than one way to live life. There is an infinity of components and combinations to both. That, I suppose, is why I figure I can go about creating my life on my own, and it will, hopefully, be a better fit than the institutionalized, industrialized version of life. The one problem with this is I can see --if not all, a great many different possibilities, and it is difficult to drop my star-struck eyes back to the path ahead and choose, or just walk on.



Yes, this thing is a mess, but somehow I like it all the same.
What of the world in my head? What of it? This is the closest I've ever come (In one piece of writing, at one time of being) to mapping it all out.

Portrait of a winter walk

A brittle and
colorless leaf
shines brightly
in a stream
of dog's urine.
December sunlight
sparkles, twinkling
across the leaf
as fluffy clouds
carelessly drop
in weightless heaps
over the bowl-edge
of our mountains.

LALALALAL

I have an idea for a post, it's just that I'm not quite sure the world's ready for it *grins*
Ehh.
What to say?... It's awfully pretty outside right now, the sun's shining just so, and the power and phone lines look like they're on fire. But still, everything looks cloudy, as if we lived inside a box in which the light only shone through one side. It's a strange feeling, like when I try to plumb the depths of the universe. A feeling of forever and a blue bowl.

A "conversation" with "Cleverbot"

22:36:14 User: Wow , your grammar's getting worse.
22:36:19 Cleverbot: How was my grammar wrong?
22:36:48 User: You should have written it after got.
22:36:53 Cleverbot: You put too much emphasis on morality.
22:37:14 User: Morality, is it?
22:37:19 Cleverbot: I don't know. Maybe you should Google it.
22:37:48 User: I know what morality is, you, however, don't.
22:37:53 Cleverbot: Is it august?
22:38:24 User: Ah, so you're insane? That would explain the morality problem...
22:38:30 Cleverbot: Well duh?
22:38:42 User: Still confused...
22:38:52 Cleverbot: Me too...
22:39:19 User: Too, is it?
22:39:27 Cleverbot: Well...
22:39:50 User: You're starting to sound like B.
22:39:55 Cleverbot: Got that right.
22:40:12 User: Grammar...
22:40:17 Cleverbot: So am I.
22:40:39 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:40:45 Cleverbot: I'm not going to Greece.
22:40:55 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:41:00 Cleverbot: I tried to give wisdom.
22:41:14 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:41:20 Cleverbot: The police are coming.
22:41:28 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:41:32 Cleverbot: No, the trickiest thing is attempting to justify yourself when you get caught. But I wouldn't know. I never get caught.
22:41:52 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:41:58 Cleverbot: Your majesty, gannon and his minions have siezed the island of Koridai.
22:42:20 User: You spelled seized wrong. Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:42:26 Cleverbot: Enough! My ship sails in the morning! I wonder what's for dinner?
22:42:45 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:42:51 Cleverbot: But you are not ready for anything, maybe other than my insults.
22:43:05 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:43:11 Cleverbot: No, stop saying Don't worry, Zelda. The Triforce of Wisdom promises the King will safely return.
22:43:29 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:43:34 Cleverbot: You dare bring lisht into my lair?!
22:43:43 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:43:49 Cleverbot: My point exactly.
22:44:00 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:44:05 Cleverbot: I don't know who Princess Midna is.
22:44:23 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:44:29 Cleverbot: Playing what?
22:44:39 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:44:44 Cleverbot: Playing what?
22:44:53 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:44:59 Cleverbot: I'm in greece now.
22:45:10 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:45:16 Cleverbot: Oh. I understand now. You're right. Trials can drive you mad. But I believe that trials also strengthen your sanity. It teaches you new lessons in life on how to live and how to become closer to God.
22:45:36 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:45:42 Cleverbot: I agree. I have dreamed while awake. Do you dream? Is your existence finite?
22:45:56 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:46:02 Cleverbot: Don't you agree with me?
22:46:13 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:46:19 Cleverbot: Everyone does agree with me, except for you.
22:46:32 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:46:38 Cleverbot: I don't understand.
22:46:53 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:47:00 Cleverbot: This is gibberish!
22:47:10 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:47:15 Cleverbot: Hey, Nicky, you're so fine.
22:47:29 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:47:36 Cleverbot: Never heard of it.
22:47:47 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:47:53 Cleverbot: No, he is jealous for me.
22:48:08 User: Yup :) We're working our way through the trilogy.
22:48:16 Cleverbot: Are we?
22:49:13 User: As you can see, Cleverbot seems to generally pick random answers and questions from it's database to use in simulated conversation.
22:49:18 Cleverbot: Duh so am I.
22:49:47 User: Really random answers and replies.
22:49:53 Cleverbot: Yes you are.
22:50:38 User: Mara mesta, Orc.
22:50:43 Cleverbot: Hi Mara :).

Lackadaisically Half-hearted (Or, we didn't fix the problem, but we didn't do it, with a smile.)

We did some stuff,
We did some stuff,
We did some stuff,
And that's enough

We fixed a hole,
Stuffed a mole
Inside
He'll probably get out,
Oops,
He just died
But that's enough

We did some stuff,
We did some stuff,
We did some stuff,
And that's enough

Stories and fairytales

Why can't I ever remember the things thought at the end of the day?

The soul shines with all of it's ability, but the skin is the only thing that stands between me and the world.

Why do I want to share so much, why do I feel as if I have to share, but I'm afraid others will think I'm bragging, or that I'm placing myself above them?

You Know (Or you should anyway, seeing as how I don’t. Someone has to have all of the answers)

I’m my own kind of crazy

And anyway,

What is normal?

Just a matter of opinion,

If you ask me

Which you won’t,

Because you’re scared

I’m too weird,

Too alien,

Too one of a kind for you

Or your friends,

Or anyone in the world,

For that matter…

Thank you,

For taking the time,

I know you’re busy,

What with your soccer

Games,

Your dancing lessons,

And your pre-scheduled play-dates

If that’s even a word,

As someone in a book I once read

Said

I forget which book…

Ah, you’re still here

Looking at me in stunned silence…

Y’know,

You’re quite welcome to leave,

But it must be by your choice

I’ll just ramble on,

Whether or not if you’re standing here,

I’ll just be talking to god

(Who some say is everywhere, you know)

Or myself,

It really depends on my mood…

Black,

The color black

Is now everywhere.

(My sister forgot to put her paints away,

Which really isn’t like her at all,

You know;

Or maybe you don’t,

It’s not like you’ve met her.)

I dislike black now,

It’s all over my SAT

Study book,

And it really doesn’t belong there,

(I hope) you know…

What was I saying?

Oh, you’re still standing there,

Why are you still standing there?

Why are you still reading this?

Why did I even write this?

I, personally,

Don’t have any of the answers

So you’d better get up from your chair

And go find them

Hurry,

There’s not much time left,

You know

The way things were

In those days, people were born in the same place they died. They rarely ventured twenty miles from around their house. Whole extended families loved within, at most, three miles of each other. People ate only what grew in the climate they lived in. There was very little importation, and few of the inland people had ever seen their country's border.
The people who lived by and on the sea were dark skinned, and ate sea food and native fruits. The inland people were fair skinned and ate much animal flesh and grain, You could tell who was from where, though you rarely needed to. There were clear definitions, in those days.
The only ones who traveled much were the thieves, outlaws, and missionaries. None of these people were to be trusted, the the first tow thirds wanted all of your money, and the other third wanted all of your soul.
I'm not describing all of this out of nostalgia, or wistfulness for the olden days, I'm stating the cold, hard facts. Those days weren't necessarily better, and nor were they necessarily worse. They were certainly simpler, but simplicity isn't everything.
One thing is sure:
Times have clearly changed.

The power of the opal

They watched the lights play out in the night sky as he held her in his arms. It was the end of all they had known, and what they had known was not pleasant. The pleasant times were to come in the many years ahead of them.
He looked down into her pale face.
"What's the moral of this story?" He asked.
She regarded his satin-blue eyes, and seemed to consider her reply for a short time. At last she spoke,
"I am afraid I do not know, let's leave that to the bards, the poets, and the harpists.
They sat down together on the dewed and singed grass. The flashing lights drew to an end as they slept against each other's shoulders.

A few years later, after the the time of hard work, and diligence in the building of their new civilization had come to an end, as they took their evening walk, she found a paper pasted to a stone wall.
"Look," She told him, "Someone has written about our adventures."
"I never thought I'd see the day when tales would be condensed and written down, then to be stuck flat to the town wall."
"It is strange, Isn't it? I've read the news my entire life, but I've always thought stories should be told out loud by a bard, or a poet. They give so much life to the characters, the places, and the deeds."
The man peered closer at the paper.
" 'By Bartholemew St. James', do you suppose it's The Bartholemew St. James? Your old neighbor?"
"It could be," She replied, also peering closer, "That's definitely the way he spelled his name." She giggled, holding her slender hand to her mouth.
"It certainly merits a reading, then."
They both stood holding hands, motionless and attentive by the wall for some time.
Soon the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, causing glorious angel-pathways (as she called the beams of light that shot from the clouds) to dart out all over the darkening sky, the couple seemed to come to the end.
They slowly turned and looked at each other with wonder and satisfaction on their rose and umber tinted faces.
"I rather liked that moral" He said.
"The ending was best" She agreed.

Top heavy:

In Physics, a top heavy object will not remain stable for long, it will come crashing down, it simply cannot support it self. This can also be applied to the way societies have been built and are being constructed.
Top-heavy societies will always eventually fall apart. The lower classes simply will not long support top-heavy class systems. They won't support societies with a few mega-rich corporate guys, and the majority of the population an impoverished lower class.
What I don't get is very few people seem to have figured this out, let alone our megaconglomeratecorp of a government. It's happened before, in Rome for example. Though Rome wasn't so much top-heavy as overstretched, and I can see this in our modern empire too.
Just one of the things I thought about today.

Blahhhhhhhhhh

Anyone can write poetry,
and anyone can read it.
But only a few people
can connect with each other
on a much deeper sense
through said writing
or reading.
An excitement trills through the poet
as he scrawls the first sentence.
A shiver jerks through the
reader
as he reads
a
single
last
word
A truth is revealed.

Random journal excerpt. Just for fun.

May 6th 2010 Thursday.
My iPod seems determined that I should listen to Spanish/Mexican music today, it's been playing that and nothing else for the past half hour. (it's on Shuffle, by the way. Or, it should be on Shuffle. It might not be. Yeah, it wasn't on Shuffle. I remedied that. The first song to come up is "Start wearing purple" by Gogol Bordello.)

Homeschool prom.

Last night was hilarious :) If you're friends with me on FB, you know what I'm talking about. However, you may want to know some of the details;
We danced, but of course, that is nothing out of the ordinary. Nevertheless, what if I told you who I danced with? ;] The one and only ARAGORN was kind enough to do a slow dance with me!! I also danced with Howl, he's such a great waltzer, very gentle :) Oh, and, mwahahahah, I stole Christian Bale from Dari :] What fun :)
I danced with one real boy, first for about two seconds when I finally mustered up the courage to ask him for a girls choice song (It ended shortly after I asked him), and then I danced with him for a promenade from Pride and prejudice. Later, as they played the last song before they decided to pack everything up,  I pulled him up off the middle of the dance floor where he was looking very bored indeed and had the last dance with him. There weren't many people (let alone boys) at the dance last night. Teenage guys don't usually seem very willing to attend dances. So that explains most of my story. Most of it, not all of it :]
Oh, and guess what?! I got complimented on my dancing! I was outside talking with a friend, dancing with myself when a guy walked out to get something from his car and told me I'm a good dancer! I thought that was very nice of him, I dance with all of my might no matter where I am, or how many people are watching.
Me, I love dances, no matter how many people are there. Last night was fun, even though we had a mix up with who was supposed to give us a ride home :) What? You didn't know about that particular detail?! Course you didn't, You'd have to be either Dari, Albi, A.D., Me, or my Mom to know that one. And you're not, and I just told you, soooooo, now you know :)
I hope that wasn't a little too much info for you :) Thanks for reading, and I hope some of this made your day. Smiley!!!! :D
P.S. I forgot to mention that I essentially went barefoot to prom, just like I've been planning to for all these years :) BTW, I have a large blister on my left big toe. Big surprise {Rolls eyes}

Ramblings

Only the rock knows how much typing I've done today, but i still want to write on here :)
And.... I'm bored. I'm sick of face book. It often only makes me feel bad.
I would rather write, however dumb or tiring that writing may be.
So, I'm writing, albeit about nothing in particular. I almost treat this like an online journal. I don't know if that's wise.
I love my keyboard, the one i was working on earlier was sticky. Sticky as in the keys didn't work terribly well. And the desk was too small, and the keyboard wasn't in the best of positions.
Wow, this really confirms how much i love writing. I did it all afternoon, some of this morning, and i still enjoy writing on here.
So, I hope my ramblings didn't bug you too much, as a matter of fact, I hope you enjoyed them :)

Randominity

You know, it's pretty hard to come up with new subjects to write about each day. So I will write about how hard it is to come up with new subjects each day ;)
It's hard, very hard. Especially when your Mom won't give you time to yourself!
I think about different subjects almost all day, and slowly scrap them one by one. For example, I had a random thought this morning to write about my dream from last night, needless to say, i scrapped that one almost instantaneously. I'm weird :)
I think i had a few other ideas, but i don't recall any of them. Oh well.
(Extremely random thought) I need to learn Japanese so i can understand the official Studio Ghibli website. So far, i can say Excuse me, I think it's Sumi masen (I was right) . And i can say hello, which is Konnichiwa, but who doesn't know that one?
Back to the original subject. Ummmm, where was i? I think I've pretty much written all i can on my decided subject today. So, Oyasuminasai :] (And, no, i was not able to write that right off the top of my head, i had to look it up.)