My cacti sprouted yesterday, I planted them on Earth day. I'll admit to you I'm a fan of cacti, and even more so my ideal field of work would be found in the desert. Not a sandy desert like the Sahara of Northern Africa more like the Painted Desert that can be found here in the U.S. It's just something I take interest in.
Or a tundra, tundra would be nice. Working with permafrost and who else knows what.
Either way, I've been wanting to write in this for awhile. Ever since I finished the spring semester to be exact. Unfortunately, I haven't had much to write about or much to think about. I just tried to enjoy my time off as best as I could. I actually approached someone last night and asked her what I should write about. She gave me an array of ideas. Ideas that would have eventually led me to write a story about a girl in cahoots with her life and her friends. Who knows what kind of epic tale would have evolved from that.
Despite that idea not coming to life, I'll probably take another shot at it some other day. That reminds me of my younger days. I used to write short stories when I was younger. Small little adventure stories, the only one I can actually recall is one about a trip to the bottom of the ocean in a small submarine. Then as I got older, I used to write corny poems. They all rhymed and had a romantic touch to them, it was such trash. I was one of those hopeless romantics and no one fell in love with my "way with words". No artistic value whatsoever. USELESS!
But you learn from your mistakes, and eventually romance ceases to exist at some point. Not for me apparently. I secretly still have my little romantic ideas and what not. Thats just going to be a secret between you and I, Mr./Mrs./Miss devoted reader. If anyone reads this at all.
"But, Marvin you told me that you were anti-romantic."
Yeah about that, so I lied. I guess I was just trying to forget all the pain it's caused.
I'm okay now though, I swear!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Empty
So, Spring session 2008 is finally over. I took my last final today and I'm just hoping and praying only for the best. Who knows? Things have been great for me these past couple of months. It feels like I'm finally in the right place. For now at least. Either way I can't emphasize enough how good I've had it these past couple months. Sure its had its ups and downs, but it was all to the benefit of growing up and the defeat of every challenge I may have faced.
So now since that's over, I find myself in an idle state. Me being my so very untalented self leaves me with not many things to do. You can laugh at me if you'd like, but I just went to google to do a search on "How to find talent" and something interesting came up.
"Talents are different than skills, in that they tend to be innate rather than learned. Once found, they can be nurtured and developed, but finding them can be tricky. It's partly a process of self-observation and honesty. The rest is learning and practice.
I don't know what it is that makes me want to immerse myself into something. I've thought about it countless times.
Some conclusions I've arrived at were:
A) I'm impressed with my friends talents and I wish to impress others.
B) I don't spend my time wisely so why not spend it doing something I love.
C) My life sucks and I need something to show that I'm not a mediocre individual
D) All of the above
E) The answer doesn't exist in this dimension.
I've tried to get into things like drawing, but I don't know, I just haven't been inspired lately. I just wish I wasn't so, boring haha.
F) Or maybe if I had something to show I'd be more interesting and score more "hot points" in the eyes of women.
But if answer F were true, then I'd only be doing it for women. That wouldn't be very fun, I actually look down on things like that. So I should just disregard reason F.
It is what it is, maybe someday I'll find my own thing and do my own thing. Unfortunately, for now I just feel kind of empty. I don't think I can stand my idle-self anymore.
So now since that's over, I find myself in an idle state. Me being my so very untalented self leaves me with not many things to do. You can laugh at me if you'd like, but I just went to google to do a search on "How to find talent" and something interesting came up.
"Talents are different than skills, in that they tend to be innate rather than learned. Once found, they can be nurtured and developed, but finding them can be tricky. It's partly a process of self-observation and honesty. The rest is learning and practice.
Talents can come in many varieties. They may be artistic or technical, mental or physical, inwardly or outwardly directed. They need not be profitable, useful, or conventional, but they will always be your own, part of what makes you you." -wikihow.com
I don't know what it is that makes me want to immerse myself into something. I've thought about it countless times.
Some conclusions I've arrived at were:
A) I'm impressed with my friends talents and I wish to impress others.
B) I don't spend my time wisely so why not spend it doing something I love.
C) My life sucks and I need something to show that I'm not a mediocre individual
D) All of the above
E) The answer doesn't exist in this dimension.
I've tried to get into things like drawing, but I don't know, I just haven't been inspired lately. I just wish I wasn't so, boring haha.
F) Or maybe if I had something to show I'd be more interesting and score more "hot points" in the eyes of women.
But if answer F were true, then I'd only be doing it for women. That wouldn't be very fun, I actually look down on things like that. So I should just disregard reason F.
It is what it is, maybe someday I'll find my own thing and do my own thing. Unfortunately, for now I just feel kind of empty. I don't think I can stand my idle-self anymore.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Writing for writing's sake
I never realized how much I loved to write, at least in things like these. I miss it, honestly. From those everyday rambles to the deepest thoughts that I tried to share. I think I stopped because no one cared to read my daily happenings or just because it wasn't the "cool" thing to do anymore.
Either way, you don't know what you've got until its gone. So, while the whole blog thing was absent from my life, I started to miss it. There have been many instances where I would sit idle and just think. Think about almost everything and everyone. Finally I would come to the realization that I should write about it. Only to come to the other realization that "I deleted my xanga" which felt a lot more like, "I deleted my heart". Which only makes my heart sink deeper only because I had a lot of stuff written on there. It's like the history of my developing/expanding mind. It was my archive, and now I can't go back and look at it. So in a sense, I really did "delete my heart".
I remember the exact feeling though, you know the feeling you get after you write your heart out on a piece of paper. Every word and every sentence belongs to you. It was almost like, the blog itself was an extension of your soul. Like, you copied every thought running through your mind and then just pasted it onto a sheet similar to the likes of this one (or this one in actuality).
Or maybe, it's a kind of mirror. Where you read what you write, but instead of seeing a physical part of yourself, you see an intellectual. An intellectual that you can relate to, honestly, I think you can seriously get to know a person more intimately if you read things that are written by them. I mean, a mirror is a mirror and damn the person who said "the eyes are the portals to the soul", BULLSHIT. No, it's one thing to "see" a soul, but it's another thing to feel one. Where do you think the phrase "I feel you" came from? When you read something, theres more intimacy there. At least, thats how I feel.
Writing to me was the epitome of a true thinker indeed. I'm just someone who couldn't escape his own thoughts, I needed to get away somehow. Released in the form of words, without any hindrance from society and its poisonous opinions. Thinking for thinking's sake and writing for writing's sake.
After everything's said and done, you clean up the blood that you spilled onto this damn thing and hope your heart fits back into your chest. You then read it, and all of a sudden you say to yourself "DAMN MUTHAFUCKA I wrote that shit, hence, I MUST BE THE SHIT". Feeling so proud of every witty metaphor you have just made. (as well as you know your improper use of grammar and slang terms thrown about recklessly, which would cause any readers IQ to drop significantly.) Such statements and a burst of emotions only lead up to feeding that fat ass ego of yours. I don't know about you, but that's how it always was for me. I felt like the shit when I wrote.
I miss this shit.
Either way, you don't know what you've got until its gone. So, while the whole blog thing was absent from my life, I started to miss it. There have been many instances where I would sit idle and just think. Think about almost everything and everyone. Finally I would come to the realization that I should write about it. Only to come to the other realization that "I deleted my xanga" which felt a lot more like, "I deleted my heart". Which only makes my heart sink deeper only because I had a lot of stuff written on there. It's like the history of my developing/expanding mind. It was my archive, and now I can't go back and look at it. So in a sense, I really did "delete my heart".
I remember the exact feeling though, you know the feeling you get after you write your heart out on a piece of paper. Every word and every sentence belongs to you. It was almost like, the blog itself was an extension of your soul. Like, you copied every thought running through your mind and then just pasted it onto a sheet similar to the likes of this one (or this one in actuality).
Or maybe, it's a kind of mirror. Where you read what you write, but instead of seeing a physical part of yourself, you see an intellectual. An intellectual that you can relate to, honestly, I think you can seriously get to know a person more intimately if you read things that are written by them. I mean, a mirror is a mirror and damn the person who said "the eyes are the portals to the soul", BULLSHIT. No, it's one thing to "see" a soul, but it's another thing to feel one. Where do you think the phrase "I feel you" came from? When you read something, theres more intimacy there. At least, thats how I feel.
Writing to me was the epitome of a true thinker indeed. I'm just someone who couldn't escape his own thoughts, I needed to get away somehow. Released in the form of words, without any hindrance from society and its poisonous opinions. Thinking for thinking's sake and writing for writing's sake.
After everything's said and done, you clean up the blood that you spilled onto this damn thing and hope your heart fits back into your chest. You then read it, and all of a sudden you say to yourself "DAMN MUTHAFUCKA I wrote that shit, hence, I MUST BE THE SHIT". Feeling so proud of every witty metaphor you have just made. (as well as you know your improper use of grammar and slang terms thrown about recklessly, which would cause any readers IQ to drop significantly.) Such statements and a burst of emotions only lead up to feeding that fat ass ego of yours. I don't know about you, but that's how it always was for me. I felt like the shit when I wrote.
I miss this shit.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
