Now or Later?
You hear people talk about "living in the moment..." and then there are those with a 5 or 10 year "life plan." I have tried both.
At one point I had my life mapped out, at least the way I wanted it to go, for no less then 5 years. I was doing pretty good as far as checking off goals goes... but then life happend and in a matter of days my whole plan was shot to shit.
So I tried the alternative... "live for today, dont worry about tomorrow," only I found that ignoring the future doesnt slow its approach or stop it from overtaking the present. So as I "lived it up" so to speak, i found that i was always standing still or moving backwards.
My question is... if you cant predict the future and you cant ignore it either... do you pick a direction for your life and work towards that goal no matter the obstacles. Or do you just live your life day by day and take it as it comes? Neither way seems to have that much promise, but unless you know of some other option, I believe you have to pick one or at least a variation of one.
So tell me, how do you beat fate? How do you prepare for the unknown and the inevitable? How do you live your life so that you get the most out of the 75-80 years we are given? Actually i only 60. How do you Win?
You create your own future.
26 February 2007
20 February 2007
Searching for the Sea of Shallow
Sometimes we wish we had killed more brain cells, sometimes we wish we were simpler, sometimes we pray for closure. There is no promised closure for the addict. None.
We are dazed this morning, Alcoholic, and me.We have so many conflicting emotions right now, it's like a bomb went off in our brain and we are scrambling throught the debris to see what has survived, what had been destroyed.
Does that make any sense? Laugh? Ha!
Yesterday was an emotionally charged trip to the electric chair for us.Sometimes, We think a little electro-shock-therapy is good for the heart. Here we sit however, and the pieces feel scrambled and jumbled and so incredibly mixed up that we don't know which is regret, which is survival, we don't know who's thoughts are who's.The Alcoholic's thoughts or my thoughts.
Yesterday's events brought a lot of the background questions up close and into focus. The microscope is alive and well.
You see, we haven't lived in harmony like this in so many years, It's very new to us to have the inner conflict so muted and almost nonexsistant. Neither one of us is sure what is responsible for this bonding. Is it just us? Is it just age? Is it just that time?
You see, this is the first time in almost the longest time that once the chemicals have been removed, we don't think about them on a daily basis. In fact, in the last three months, we have only craved a mutation of one's self into a chemically induced escape a handfull of times.
Previously, it's every moment, of everyday, it's a constant steady beacon in the back of the brain...
Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol.
How odd it is for us that this is no longer the case.
How very, very odd.
Today we read someone's account of their trials and tribulations with crack, with a needle. I think how very frightening, Alcoholic thinks, how very intriguing.
Alcoholic tells me, that could have been us. I tell Alcoholic...that was us.
Sometimes we wish we had killed more brain cells, sometimes we wish we were simpler, sometimes we pray for closure. There is no promised closure for the addict. None.
We are dazed this morning, Alcoholic, and me.We have so many conflicting emotions right now, it's like a bomb went off in our brain and we are scrambling throught the debris to see what has survived, what had been destroyed.
Does that make any sense? Laugh? Ha!
Yesterday was an emotionally charged trip to the electric chair for us.Sometimes, We think a little electro-shock-therapy is good for the heart. Here we sit however, and the pieces feel scrambled and jumbled and so incredibly mixed up that we don't know which is regret, which is survival, we don't know who's thoughts are who's.The Alcoholic's thoughts or my thoughts.
Yesterday's events brought a lot of the background questions up close and into focus. The microscope is alive and well.
You see, we haven't lived in harmony like this in so many years, It's very new to us to have the inner conflict so muted and almost nonexsistant. Neither one of us is sure what is responsible for this bonding. Is it just us? Is it just age? Is it just that time?
You see, this is the first time in almost the longest time that once the chemicals have been removed, we don't think about them on a daily basis. In fact, in the last three months, we have only craved a mutation of one's self into a chemically induced escape a handfull of times.
Previously, it's every moment, of everyday, it's a constant steady beacon in the back of the brain...
Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol.
How odd it is for us that this is no longer the case.
How very, very odd.
Today we read someone's account of their trials and tribulations with crack, with a needle. I think how very frightening, Alcoholic thinks, how very intriguing.
Alcoholic tells me, that could have been us. I tell Alcoholic...that was us.
14 February 2007
Ironic Truth
It occurred to me, in these past days, that despite the precautions, or lack-there-of, that we take, the ineffable does happen. Things do, and will, turn. Are these occurrences the doing of quite simply, yet delicately complex, the intricate work of fates tapestry? it is human nature to want control over mortally untameable, and often inevitable, circumstance. Even in doubt the thought of the possibility that nothing is coincident lingers in my mind. This, however, is also human nature; a defence mechanism, due to our most instinctive need for purpose. Vainly, we attempt to manipulate the definitive idea of fate to suit our own selfish needs. We distort the simple beauty of its design, and what we are ultimately left with is a Frankenstein-of-a-monster. In the end our truth is so grotesquely unidentifiable that we don't recognize ourselves. What have you become? For many, enlightenment comes too late. For many more redemption seems light years away, and salvation is an all but forgotten dream; a mythical creature. Sure to find peace and happiness, multitudes spend their entire lives hunting down their elusive, unilateral game. They spend fortunes and sacrifice all but their own lives in search for what, to them, seems to be the ultimate prize. Surely worthy of a soul, they foolishly relinquish their humanity into the greedy embrace of malignant forces. All dignity, and hope, seems lost. When you're alone, becomes the only certainty. Ironically, the truth was us all along.
It occurred to me, in these past days, that despite the precautions, or lack-there-of, that we take, the ineffable does happen. Things do, and will, turn. Are these occurrences the doing of quite simply, yet delicately complex, the intricate work of fates tapestry? it is human nature to want control over mortally untameable, and often inevitable, circumstance. Even in doubt the thought of the possibility that nothing is coincident lingers in my mind. This, however, is also human nature; a defence mechanism, due to our most instinctive need for purpose. Vainly, we attempt to manipulate the definitive idea of fate to suit our own selfish needs. We distort the simple beauty of its design, and what we are ultimately left with is a Frankenstein-of-a-monster. In the end our truth is so grotesquely unidentifiable that we don't recognize ourselves. What have you become? For many, enlightenment comes too late. For many more redemption seems light years away, and salvation is an all but forgotten dream; a mythical creature. Sure to find peace and happiness, multitudes spend their entire lives hunting down their elusive, unilateral game. They spend fortunes and sacrifice all but their own lives in search for what, to them, seems to be the ultimate prize. Surely worthy of a soul, they foolishly relinquish their humanity into the greedy embrace of malignant forces. All dignity, and hope, seems lost. When you're alone, becomes the only certainty. Ironically, the truth was us all along.
08 February 2007
Some possibilities and perhaps a sweeter dream.....
Mysteries may be inconceivably percieved in dreams, in the innocent slumber of a protagonist under the maddening grips of ships asunder on the sea of reddened pleas. oh, how plausible it seems... that the mind of faithless calamities could fair to be so holpelessly enveloped in the shroudery of bleakly beating trickery (you know, things are never what they appear to be) In regards to circumstances of hope, of aesthetic values and plans to elope, a sort of bliss that may be remiss as to be content and lonesomeness put the pedal to the metal and hightail it to vegas. "so won't we laugh at the fact that beauty never saw this coming!" And wear this ring of childish things, as you conquer the woes of mighty kings, but... when wakes the purest veil of the feat, a hero in the blinded sheets of rays of sun and cotton ones (the bearer and the bare of the day) and does the hero know how heroic, though, the battles of this listless sleep have proven to the world of romance to inarguably be? In the city streets, I see (with their young and struggling eyes) a war of worlds swiftly performed to save their broken-hearted lives. A chorus of thankful sighs above the smog will surely rise so we are ourselves, and is that's just fine? May we please be in love with the world onced again?
Mysteries may be inconceivably percieved in dreams, in the innocent slumber of a protagonist under the maddening grips of ships asunder on the sea of reddened pleas. oh, how plausible it seems... that the mind of faithless calamities could fair to be so holpelessly enveloped in the shroudery of bleakly beating trickery (you know, things are never what they appear to be) In regards to circumstances of hope, of aesthetic values and plans to elope, a sort of bliss that may be remiss as to be content and lonesomeness put the pedal to the metal and hightail it to vegas. "so won't we laugh at the fact that beauty never saw this coming!" And wear this ring of childish things, as you conquer the woes of mighty kings, but... when wakes the purest veil of the feat, a hero in the blinded sheets of rays of sun and cotton ones (the bearer and the bare of the day) and does the hero know how heroic, though, the battles of this listless sleep have proven to the world of romance to inarguably be? In the city streets, I see (with their young and struggling eyes) a war of worlds swiftly performed to save their broken-hearted lives. A chorus of thankful sighs above the smog will surely rise so we are ourselves, and is that's just fine? May we please be in love with the world onced again?
05 February 2007
Lesson 2006....
Now a realist. I like to stand for those who matters to me. I try to look beyond the surface of things.
So many experiences both positive and negative, anger and loss. I don't hide behind anything or anyone. Life must be experience to the fullest by all means including all the bullshit that comes along with it. Communication and self-expression is the key to understanding all that's around, happened to you and experiences you'd endured.
My foundation is all the good and bad experiences that has defined the person that I am today. Perceptive study of one individual's understanding of my human condition. Developing nervous breakdown, symptomised by my bouts of unexplained depression, impulsive spending some cravings and generally odd, and erratic behaviour. It's a psychological battle and as a matter of fact, I do laugh away about it most of the time.
Does society have an 'ostrich in the sand' mentality, a deliberate ignorance of the emptiness that can characterize human existence? I do believe they exist. Beginning to probe and investigate my own sense of emptiness and isolation, before finally declaring that my world is full of 'phonies' with each one out for their own phony gain, or am I actually the one who is going insane, or is it society which has lost it's mind for failing to see the hopelessness of their own lives?
I'm just one of those creatives who'd sustained a passionate affair with the world's capricious imagination. Simultaneously possessed and separated from the 'real' world by body, by the flesh that has been rifled, forever estranged from a soul that is no longer my own.
I've famously circled around loners roaming on the borders of society. Feeding off the anguish and beauty, both emotionally and consciously blurring the line between fantasy and reality. No matter what happens, we are all still viewing the world in this prepetual state of wonder.
Life's about taking that big chance that you'd always wanted to take and don't care what happens as a result. Living with regrets is not really living, but to live any other way takes personal courage and a touch of authentic madness.
Finally January had passed and ended as the month itself is always a trial period for me. I'm only beginning to be glad that 2006 had left and things are moving on.. what a "rollercoaster" year and I was only being kind to use that word as a description! I can honestly say I've emerged feeling more "me" than ever before and can only expect to change for the better. It seemed there was a revolving door of people, and for every goodbye there is a fresh new face there to remind me that I am indeed very fortunate. (i'm so contradicting to my words above) and so what with flashes of thoughts that does not synchronized? who cares? I've met some new people in the most unusual circumstances (circumstances is not the point) ...had amazing amount of fun All in all, a hell of a ride that left me on top and I look forward to hereafter - i'll probably once again make and break some rules for myself - a fresh start is always good. a great year ahead and who is gonna stop me?
Now a realist. I like to stand for those who matters to me. I try to look beyond the surface of things.
So many experiences both positive and negative, anger and loss. I don't hide behind anything or anyone. Life must be experience to the fullest by all means including all the bullshit that comes along with it. Communication and self-expression is the key to understanding all that's around, happened to you and experiences you'd endured.
My foundation is all the good and bad experiences that has defined the person that I am today. Perceptive study of one individual's understanding of my human condition. Developing nervous breakdown, symptomised by my bouts of unexplained depression, impulsive spending some cravings and generally odd, and erratic behaviour. It's a psychological battle and as a matter of fact, I do laugh away about it most of the time.
Does society have an 'ostrich in the sand' mentality, a deliberate ignorance of the emptiness that can characterize human existence? I do believe they exist. Beginning to probe and investigate my own sense of emptiness and isolation, before finally declaring that my world is full of 'phonies' with each one out for their own phony gain, or am I actually the one who is going insane, or is it society which has lost it's mind for failing to see the hopelessness of their own lives?
I'm just one of those creatives who'd sustained a passionate affair with the world's capricious imagination. Simultaneously possessed and separated from the 'real' world by body, by the flesh that has been rifled, forever estranged from a soul that is no longer my own.
I've famously circled around loners roaming on the borders of society. Feeding off the anguish and beauty, both emotionally and consciously blurring the line between fantasy and reality. No matter what happens, we are all still viewing the world in this prepetual state of wonder.
Life's about taking that big chance that you'd always wanted to take and don't care what happens as a result. Living with regrets is not really living, but to live any other way takes personal courage and a touch of authentic madness.
Finally January had passed and ended as the month itself is always a trial period for me. I'm only beginning to be glad that 2006 had left and things are moving on.. what a "rollercoaster" year and I was only being kind to use that word as a description! I can honestly say I've emerged feeling more "me" than ever before and can only expect to change for the better. It seemed there was a revolving door of people, and for every goodbye there is a fresh new face there to remind me that I am indeed very fortunate. (i'm so contradicting to my words above) and so what with flashes of thoughts that does not synchronized? who cares? I've met some new people in the most unusual circumstances (circumstances is not the point) ...had amazing amount of fun All in all, a hell of a ride that left me on top and I look forward to hereafter - i'll probably once again make and break some rules for myself - a fresh start is always good. a great year ahead and who is gonna stop me?
02 February 2007
Q: Why am i putting myself through this?
A: Because i want to.
All I've ever sought is stability; not, so i thought, a tall order. I'm not, and never have, expected perfection and smooth roads. Only faith and trust paving our foundation... and now... ? Perhaps now i am looking up at a vanilla sky from the rubble of caved in ghost-collumns, swinging from the scaffolding of a question mark.
I should, by all means, climb out - run, escape! escape! - to some higher ground, for fear that this pit cave in on itself again, and smother me so that this time none of the light can cracks through--wiry wisps of sun to climb out on. Maybe there is not too much left in me (inward emaciation, outward rippling, plascticity) but my bones remain burried in the tumbled earth, home in the clay where they were grown thousands of years ago. So i delight in resigning myself to sitting on cracked stone, acquiescing to crevices, waiting, waiting this through. For the flicker of that thing that my faith says will come around. I do not know what this thing is. I am tired of dealing in faith: dead currency. Now i only keep a few notes in my purse, for the novelty.
What if the flicker never comes? patience in vain, disection in vain, for this earth to resurrect itself into a mountain. Is it true?- hours binged and purged. i fear my bones will become worm-wood--the atrophy and distortion of seeds. My flowers fated to never crack the topsoil.
So i wait.
A: Because i want to.
All I've ever sought is stability; not, so i thought, a tall order. I'm not, and never have, expected perfection and smooth roads. Only faith and trust paving our foundation... and now... ? Perhaps now i am looking up at a vanilla sky from the rubble of caved in ghost-collumns, swinging from the scaffolding of a question mark.
I should, by all means, climb out - run, escape! escape! - to some higher ground, for fear that this pit cave in on itself again, and smother me so that this time none of the light can cracks through--wiry wisps of sun to climb out on. Maybe there is not too much left in me (inward emaciation, outward rippling, plascticity) but my bones remain burried in the tumbled earth, home in the clay where they were grown thousands of years ago. So i delight in resigning myself to sitting on cracked stone, acquiescing to crevices, waiting, waiting this through. For the flicker of that thing that my faith says will come around. I do not know what this thing is. I am tired of dealing in faith: dead currency. Now i only keep a few notes in my purse, for the novelty.
What if the flicker never comes? patience in vain, disection in vain, for this earth to resurrect itself into a mountain. Is it true?- hours binged and purged. i fear my bones will become worm-wood--the atrophy and distortion of seeds. My flowers fated to never crack the topsoil.
So i wait.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
