Tag Archives: Meaning

How to find a good title for everything that amounts to a “life’s work”?

I think I’ve finally figured out a good way to describe what exactly it is that I’m looking for out of life. It comes down to one word: “profundity”. I want to be moved. I want nature and life to make me cry. I want to be able to cry in front of someone while looking at something beautiful, and be able to say to them “That’s beautiful.”

I’ve always had this sense, for many years, that something was missing in my life. I couldn’t figure out what it was. I think part of the problem is being surrounded by the perspective of the “average” person: dull, and dumb. Not much to look forward to but the next race or ball game (I’m not talking about family, but just being around people in public, overhearing conversations constantly, coworkers, etc.). That’s not what life is about to me. I think that’s why I’ve been going on these solo drives lately. One, just for new environments. But, arguably even more so, because of self-reflection.

I feel like I’ve been beaten down over the years with constant derision of being an “overthinker“. No one could possibly understand the enjoyment that I get from contemplation. I haven’t known how to speak out against it. Now that I’m older, with more responsibility and freedom, I find myself asking: What do I want my perspective to be? What do I want to think about? Where do I want my mind to be? That’s a very deep question. Going through the motions gets you through the day. But is that all my life is? “Getting through the day”? What’s the point in that? You’re telling me that God created our entire universe, the Earth, and US, for Christ’s sake, just for us to “get through the day”? What kind of ultimate purpose is THAT? A fucking pathetic one.

No, there’s something missing in my life, for sure. So much talk revolves around bills and jobs. Not only politically, but just “small talk”. To be fair, I guess when it occupies as much time and energy as it does, that is inevitable. But am I to take certain inevitabilities as the purpose of my life? If I were to get cancer tomorrow, would I treat that cancer as the purpose of my life? Would I talk about it constantly, and think of nothing else but it? Or would I look for profundity in other things? I think the answer is the latter.

I’m tired of listening to well-meaninged people warning about a “life wasted”. I want to be able to say why I disagree with them. In order to do that, I need to use words. I need to “overthink” about words. I’m tired of playing dumb just to keep some sense of “social peace”. Your inferiority complex shouldn’t be my problem. There’s too much profundity to be concerned with some jackass that feels insecure because your vocabulary is deeper than his.

And that should go for myself as well. I shouldn’t dismiss someone just because they speak better than me. Just learn how to speak better, you fucking retard. Learn new words. Become a better listener. It’s not one of the Ten Commandments: just an improvable life skill.

The ultimate problem is that I’m not allowing myself to get lost in my own head enough. I listen to others a lot so that I can learn things for myself. But speaking up for myself is difficult many times. I don’t really allow myself, often enough, to reflect, and contemplate. This makes those times when I do feel like doing those things all the more special. There’s other factors mentally blocking me from fully dedicating myself to creating things. I’ll have to continue to write about those later, even though I’m sure I’ve already touched on them somewhere.

My head is too full of the words of others instead of what feels like my own independent thoughts. Social anxiety is one reason why I can’t tune others out. The other is that responsibility scares me. The unknown future is scary for all of us often. So we focus on our immediate day, where more things are under our control. But I’ve encountered so many people that say “Where in the hell did my life go?” that it scares me, so I try to think more about the future. And I believe that my future would be better if I allowed myself to get more lost inside of my own head, instead of replaying the words of others in my head constantly and doubting my every desire and decision. That ain’t working anymore. I can’t write like that. Writing requires independent thoughts. I love writing. I need independent thoughts. I need MY words. I don’t want my words to just be “Here’s what someone else told me one time.” What’s MY analysis?

But it’s hard to allow myself to get lost in my head. As I’ve said, it’s just scary to be alone inside of your own head. All of your mistakes come at once. All of your uncertainties. Your worst fears. They come storming at you. It’s easier to close the door of your independent mind and let someone else distract you from yourself. Perhaps some music would help?

Going out on a limb like this, of course, poses its own problems. What if I’m wrong? That’s humiliating. Will I just be able to say “I messed up?” Once again, I think that’s, mainly, just a skill that needs to be learned. It’s one thing to realize the power of humility when you feel like you aren’t making a mistake. It’s another when you realize you have.

Another problem is experience. EVERYTHING is “experience”. But the question should be: what kind of experience? I need more experience with linguisticators. I want to figure out why they burn me out so much. I understand that reading, and listening to good speakers, would help me with my own desire to communicate. But I’m always hesitant to do so. Why? Well, for one, language is separate from the subject. I like focusing on a couple of subjects at a time. But then, I get burned out. So in order to keep reading, and not feeling burnt out on the subject, I’d have to read about another subject. But which one? That’s the problem. Reading something and realizing that I don’t enjoy it. Or just getting tired of it, like eating the same food everyday, except with a book. I need to approach reading differently. Instead of focusing on the subject, I need to focus on the language used. That’s not going to be easy. I’m still going to read subjects that I enjoy, of course. But I also need to be able to analyze the use of language separately from the content of the work. Ok, this work is boring me. But is it written well? If so, why? And then, try to learn how to use language better for myself. Once again, this is just a skill that needs to be learned.

Ultimately, the solution will probably come down to reading writers better than I (shouldn’t be too hard to find). I need to have a certain mindset to be open enough to understand what it is exactly that makes their writing better than mine, and how to use that for myself. I guess the question becomes: how much do I want to do that, exactly? I don’t know how much of it will satisfy me yet. I don’t even know how to approach it, really. I anticipate that if I took the advice of someone else that I’d burn out quickly and then get tired of learning how to get better altogether. I think this is a slow, natural, lifetime process that I can’t fully explain yet. It could be the case that I’m lying to myself, and all of this is for naught. But I think it is the only thing that satisfies my heart, and that matters to me (of course). The challenge is being able to explain WHY I believe that it matters.

Another reason that I find language so difficult is that I’ve always associated good speakers with charlatans. It’s easy to tell if an idiot is “good” or “evil“. It’s much harder when someone speaks well. I was so afraid of being evil (thanks, free will baptism) that I just avoided language like the plague. I realize now how stupid that was. But now begins the task of fixing it. And that’s going to be hard, considering how far behind I am because of my old way of thinking. You may say “You write well now,” but you have no idea how good it can become. I do.

For better or worse, ethics consume most of my thoughts. I think this is an evident combination of genes and environment. Certainly, my religious upbringing and journey has a lot to do with why thoughts of ethics almost consume me. But I know there’s definitely a major genetic component as well. Hypocrisy, especially if I do something “evil”, scares me. I just don’t want to do it. I, like everyone else, am torn between doing good and evil. I have, and will, do both throughout my life. And that bothers the fuck out of me. I guess one might say “The fact that it bothers you proves that you’re a good person.” But I will take no solace in that. The thought of being a hypocrite bothers me. Especially the thought of being a hypocrite on a very famous scale (and I desire “fame” only as a measure of success that I wish to have, so that I don’t get stuck in a life that I resent everyday. Maybe one day I’ll just be “content” like everyone else, but I have goals, and I want them. And that’s all I care about. I know that it takes that type of attitude to succeed, so now, all I need is that success, so that I can hand you the check and say “I told you so.” And if it doesn’t work, who cares? I’ll join you at the factory line and you can tell me about all of the time I’ve wasted, whereas I can say “At least I tried” and make fun of you for NOT trying). I find enjoyment in being critical, and that obviously puts a lot of pressure on me. “Just stop being so critical,” you might say. Criticism, especially humorous criticism, is too much fucking fun. I think it’s worth the anxiety of making a mistake. And, once again, I think that’s another reason why humility is a skill that I desperately need to develop.

And that never-ending war of trying to figure out how to “handle” other people. In a way where the advice of others doesn’t deafen my own independent thoughts. Trying to figure out truth is a lifelong battle: as is dealing with the evil of others. It will continue on forever, as you continue to get older, and, eventually, die. We do good, we do evil, then we think about and talk about the evil of others. Then, we listen to others talk about the evil of still yet others. I’m so fucking exhausted with it all. I want to take part in it, but I’m also fucking sick of it. “Hypocrisy”, I guess you’d say. And here comes the advice. And here’s where Cody has to say “Ignore it, because you want to.” And here’s where Cody hears others complaining that he said he’s going to ignore them. And here’s where Cody needs to tell himself “Just continue ignoring them.” And here’s where Cody hears them saying that “Yes, you need to ignore them.” And here’s where Cody realizes they are “them” so he shouldn’t listen to them. And on, and on, and fucking on. “Just stop”- I can’t- “You think too much”-no I don’t shut up haven’t you read fucking anything I’ve written up to this point? Maybe you realize the problem now.

I can’t wait to just become an old grouch. That’s what my heart ultimately longs for. It flies in the face of all “advice” you’ll hear. But who gives a shit. I’m a grumpy old grouch at heart, goddammit, and that’s what I want to be. So it’s going to fucking stay that way. Get out.

You can’t appreciate profundity when a bunch of stupid blabbermouths don’t see it and won’t shut the fuck up about what they do see.

…Stuff like this makes me wish that either I was older or that I end up dying younger. I can’t take 80 years of thinking like this, and I refuse to think like everyone else. I’m hopeful that this will change as time goes by. But, of course, I want it NOW. I already feel about 90. If I ever do make it to 90, I can’t imagine how I’d feel. That’s scary. Maybe I don’t want to make it to 90. But things do change…

Communication, like everything else, is hard. Regardless of what “natural” abilities you may have, everything gets hard at some point. There’s a reason why talented, say, basketball players practice. Michael Jordan has always been, and will always be, a better basketball player than me. And most. So why did he practice? Well……….what ELSE was he going to do? THAT was a question that he had to ask himself. And he ANSWERED it himself. That’s what I need to do. It doesn’t matter that I’ll (probably) never become the “Michael Jordan” of writing. That is so far removed from the point that that thought shouldn’t have even entered your head. The point is what do I want my writing and thoughts to be, and what do I want to do with them?

And that produces a fine line. Writing involves organization, knowing when to lengthen a piece, and knowing when to cut one off. My default position has just been to cut everything off short (because it’s easier). But something has been missing. I knew this day would come eventually, so I have never stressed about today not being around yesterday. But the day has come where I’m no longer satisfied with cutting things off prematurely. I’ve said stuff like this a million times, but it continues to be true. The process of writing is constant. I’ll probably say, throughout my entire life, that “I need to learn how to edit.” It doesn’t matter how much better I get from one year to the next, I anticipate that I’ll still say “I need to learn how to edit.” Why? Well, this is where the “Michael Jordan” analogy comes into play. What in the fuck ELSE am I going to do with my writing? If I don’t do that, but I want to write, the writing is just going to be “WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD WORD”. What’s the point in reading that? There IS none. Michael Jordan won a championship and an MVP one year. Why did he play the next year? It’s all about an attitude, and what one wants to do. I don’t care if I never win a writing MVP, or whatever. I don’t care if I’m not ranked among the 100,000 best writers ever. The point is that I want to write, and what attitude am I going to have while I do so? I pity those that don’t understand what I’m talking about. They’re kind of idiots.

I hope I don’t burn out too quickly. This has been a lifetime coming, but, ultimately, I think everything is. Everything has been leading up to everything. That’s unavoidable. But being able to explain that in certain ways is a skill that I wish to develop. One of the skills that I wish to develop.

I also need to work on the fact that even if someone’s advice doesn’t help me, at least they want to. I can ignore it, but at least I can say “Well, they’re trying to help, even if they aren’t.” At least give them that credit. And then, get back to my alone time as quickly as possible. I’m sure they’ll understand. At least, if I’ve explained myself well enough, they will. I think my main frustration with advice is that I haven’t been able to effectively speak for myself. That’s a pattern that I continue to notice. I’ve never been happy with my ability to speak for myself, and it’s something I’ve worked on for many, many years. And I have a long fucking way to go. It’s all a complicated weave that I have in my head that I want to be able to elaborate. And it’s exasperating. And it just keeps building more and more and more. It’s hard to handle, but this is the best time in my life to handle it financially. I can’t afford to waste this opportunity. I want all of my ideas to come fast, and just get them all done as rapidly as possible. But they need to mature to maintain a quality that I’m happy with. It’s not about writing a bestseller, it’s just about writing good stuff, goddammit. My heart has always hurt when inspiration has hit me and I couldn’t write because I was at work, or had to go to school the next day. Staying up for hours later than I should just because “It hit me.” Feeling frustrated because I had other responsibilities that kept me from writing. So much of that has changed. This is the time that I’ve been desperate for my whole life. SO WHY IN THE FUCK WOULD I EVER STRUGGLE TO WRITE?????????? Write NOW, dammit!!! In truth, there’s still stuff to figure out, as there always has been. But this is, more than likely, the best time I will EVER HAVE to create. EVER. I’ll have more free time now than I’ve ever had. That pressure is terrifying. But if I get in too much of a hurry, the work sucks. And I need to absorb more before I can regurgitate more. I haven’t been happy with much of my writing for a long time now, and it’s mainly because I just didn’t have enough within me to get it done the way I wanted to get done. There’s too much for me to elaborate on here, but I want to do it eventually. All of my work is a tangled weave of my life. It all connects, in the grand scheme of things. I’m a “mad scientist”. It’s a delicate balance. I guess I’ll just have to hope that I don’t see it all as a mistake down the road, and figure out exactly what I’m going to do today, and how.

Technical ability to improve quality (of things like video) is a skill I need to learn without burning myself out trying to do so. Software, camera work, lighting. No, I don’t need to go to school for it. I’ll experiment with it myself eventually. But I need a better outlook of completing good work. A – you guessed it – philosophical approach to quality and effort. I know that probably sounds weird to you. But I want to be able to explain what I mean eventually. I want to be able to explain everything. How I write, etc.

I need to hurry up and get better so I can churn out more stuff, and keep improving it. The gaps in time between my writings are far too fucking long for my taste. But I can’t just type “BLAH BLAH BLAH” and say I’ve written something. It just takes a lot of time. Everything does. And then, I’ll get old and say “Holy fuck. Where did the time go?”

I still have a lot of things that I want to say about the past. About writing. I want to be able to explain what is going on inside of my head. If that doesn’t interest you, that’s fine. If it enrages you, I find that humorous. If it inspires you, that’s terrifying. But the ultimate point is that I want to be lost inside of my own head to find some peace in this world. That’s mainly what I care about at the moment. That, and just learning how to do everything better, such as my attitude and “dealing with” other people. And editing, and organizing, etc.

So that’s what I’m working on, I guess. Lmfao (When to work? When to break? When to write? When to listen to music? Who to listen to? Who to ignore? WHEN WHEN WHEN? It never ends).

The hardest part about all of this is having known, for a long time, that all of this was going to happen (or at least significant parts of it), but having it not happen. Realizing “Yep, this is definitely a waiting game.” As my favorite childhood musician once said, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

Bulleted lists of what I like about writing and what I hate about writing.

Why Express?

Highly Sensitive Mind.

My poetry.

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What’s the Point?

I never cease to be disappointed. I constantly find myself involved in ethical debates, if only as a listener. I find myself a listener, obviously, because I find the discussions interesting. Ethics are something that I want to ponder and discuss. But as I start to go down this road, I often feel it is in vain. I find myself realizing that some things have not changed, and some things will never change. The same problems that exist today have always existed. I find it quite annoying that technological geniuses can’t contemplate philosophically. As if every new combination of physical matter is somehow going to make humans ethically better. Then, news media reports on how the technological medium is making us worse, while seemingly ignoring the benefits it gives us. Where is the perspective?

There are few in the “technological realm” that understand that the tools are used to make specific things better, but not humans as a whole. The tools are merely tools, able to be used for good or evil. They themselves convey no “good” or “evil”. But still yet, there are idiots that complain that tools are corrupting our youth, etc. It really makes me wonder: what’s the point of pointing all of this out?

Let me try to be more general for a second. Let’s take writing. I am writing this right now. You are reading this right now. I’m attempting to convey certain points that I wish to communicate because I want to, for various reasons, and, if you are reading this, you chose to, for various reasons, and you will come to various conclusions about what I have written here. Why am I doing this? Why are we doing this? Why do we do this? Why do we communicate? On a certain level, I understand that we’re all human. We all are similar in that regard. And part of being human means being able to speak and listen. But it bothers me that I don’t know why this is the case. Sometimes, I wish we were all automatons, incapable of communication, and that we could all still function as independent, unrelated entities. Because I find myself exhausted from communication of all sorts.

Why do I write when others have written?, I find myself asking. I compare myself to other writers. Why? Because, as writers, we all want readers. It is impossible for every reader to read every writer. So, many writers want readers to choose themselves over other writers. It’s about supply and demand. Just natural. “Pick me, pick me!” But I find myself having certain problems with this within myself. For one, I know there are countless other writers more deserving of being read than me. So why do I write? I don’t know. There are writers that I haven’t read. So why should anyone read me? I don’t know. How much time and effort should I put into writing? I certainly don’t spend a lot of time doing it: only when something strikes me, and that hasn’t been too often as of late. And what about people that lie when they write? What about people who have written insights that go unnoticed? So many things go through my head when I want to write that I sit paralyzed by my own thoughts. I want to write something significant. Meaningful. And I want to get paid. But, I suppose I’m the whining, unsuccessful author at this point in my life. And I’m starting to wonder why I’m really writing at all.

For one, I don’t know how I can expect to be read when I don’t read. I’ve written about that here. Before, I thought “Well, I’ll just write, and see what happens.” But nothing has happened. Writing now actually feels like an unproductive endeavor. And I don’t know what I can replace it with. It’s always felt natural to me when it happens. What could I possibly replace it with? Is there anything else that feels “natural” to me? Certainly, the majority of writers that write are “financially unsuccessful”. This is true for anyone that does anything. And people will choose, on an individual level, whether to continue anyway or do something else. But I don’t think I have anything else. I don’t really want to learn anything else. I’m stuck with an unproductive “skill”, for lack of a better term, and I don’t know what to do with it. I’m growing tired of writing for no, or few, readers. I listen to popular arguments, and think “You know, there’s so many good ideas from history that are being ignored. And I’m ignoring them as well. So why am I even doing this? Why do I even care if my ideas resonate?” And, the answer is, that I don’t know.

I’m growing tired of writing, because everything is becoming repetitive, and not enough people are reading my works to satisfy me. I also find reading to be dreary, because I don’t feel like I’m gaining anything from it. Even when I read things that I enjoy, I start to ask…what’s the point of this? I think I’m finally getting to the point where I care more about money than enjoying my work. I’ve worked for basically no pay with, for example, writing, and I think I’m finally done with it. I don’t care as much about it anymore. I want to do something more financially sustainable. As much as I’d love to be a professional writer, I just don’t think I want to do this anymore like I once did. I’m tired of dreaming about big paychecks. I’m tired of dreaming of writing popular things. I don’t really care about these dreams anymore. And that’s not something I would’ve ever thought I would’ve said several years ago. But the truth is is that I’ve given this as much of a shot as I’ve wanted to, and I’m just done with it now. I’m done dreaming of success. I want to actually do something that makes me successful. I know you, as the reader, don’t care. But I don’t care that you don’t care, and I don’t know why you’re reading this.

The problem is that I’m still torn. I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’m still in development. I don’t think writing things down when I’m still contemplating them (and don’t have a resolution) is a good idea (as you can probably tell by the transition from the past paragraph to this sentence). At least for me. I’d prefer it if I had it all figured out, and then, it was simply a matter of retracing my steps, or something. Deep down, I just want to be happy. I’m pretty sure that’s universal. It’s a matter of finding out what that is, and how to get it. And this is where the “fun variety of life” comes in. What makes you happy can change. Experience can change you. Lots of things can change. And some things never do. Once again, I find myself stuck. I love to write. But I’m tired of not having any readers. So do I purposefully try to obtain more readers? Or do I just continue to write what makes me happy? Do I finally give up on dreaming of having a dream career? Or do I hang on? Who do I listen to, and who do I ignore? What do I do? The point is, I’m getting tired of what I’m doing right now. But I don’t know what to do about it. I’m tired of the repetitive nature of “popular discussion”, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m constantly in a state of conflict (as I think everyone is, honestly). I want to learn, but I’m sick of reading. I want to write, but I’m sick of not being read. I want to write something meaningful, but there’s a human history full of meaningful things, so what’s the point of trying to add one thing to a history full of things? I don’t know the answer, and it bugs me. People bug me. Communication bugs me. I wish that I felt completely alone. Resistant to all outside influence. But, when I desire to learn, I can’t be. When I desire to write, I can’t be. When I need money, I can’t be. Here, I can hear you saying “Sometimes, you have to change.” But sometimes, you don’t. I want to rise above cliches. I don’t want to live my life by cliches much like conservatives live by the Ten Commandments. I’ve gone down that road before, and it doesn’t work. Taking cliches and trying to make them “more true” than they are doesn’t work. Something is missing. And I don’t know what it is. I want to say that the only thing missing is financial success. I think that’s a big part of it. But something else is missing as well. Why am I here? Why am I here with people I hate? Why can’t I be somewhere else? How can I be alone? I need answers to these questions more than anything in life. Well, besides a career, I suppose.

I’m happy with all of my work up to this point, even if, in retrospect, I don’t think it’s very good, because all of my past work has led my work to what it is today. But I can’t make someone else like it if they don’t. I’m not going to treat my work like a product to be moulded to consumer demands. So, that means that if I’m going to create, and my creations are not “in demand”, I just have to live with it. That means I’m going to have to have a new perspective about it all. I need a new way to deal with people. I just need to “grow up”, I guess. And, once again, I don’t really know why I write. I don’t know why I dream of success. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. All I know is that I do what I think will make me happy. That’s all that I really care about. I’m getting tired of what I’ve been doing, and something is going to have to change. I just don’t know what that is, or what will bring it about, and that is bugging me right now.

I think, much like my dad always desired for himself, that I just wish to retire away from the world on my own piece of property, and then just die in peace. I have a feeling I’m walking in my father’s footsteps. What we both wanted was just to retire, and have a nice piece of land and property. That’s what I really want. To get away from everything, and not have to worry about anything. I suppose that when that is what you desire, you’re always bound to be disappointed.

As I said, I’m not quite sure where I stand as far as a resolution of ethical issues is concerned. A part of me thinks, in some ways, it is easy. That God, who is good, will take care of the bad. But I’m also skeptical of myself when I start to think religiously. I’ve thought religiously in the past, and it only made things worse. I’ve developed new religious thoughts over the years, and I’m more prone to a “lasseiz-faire” attitude when it comes to religion. I don’t particularly care. Things don’t bother me as much. I just accept things as they are, and I feel content (which, I think, is the point of religion). But when evil is staring me in the face, it’s much harder to keep that attitude, and it’s much easier to want to do something about it. Even if there’s not really anything I can do about it.

I’m a “big picture” person. A “philosopher”. I want to understand meaning. And I want to understand the meaning behind our existence. A meaning to all of the arguing, and all of the evil. I can’t help myself, even if I’m incapable of grasping it. I don’t want to sit idly by, and say nothing, but I also don’t want to have a mental breakdown due to not being able to figure out “the problems of the world”. Currently, I’m in between these two, leaning more towards the “mental breakdown”. I’m confident that, one day, I’ll know the answer to this question, but at the moment, I can only find myself asking: “What’s the point of it all?”

Free Will Contradictions.

A Philosopher’s Mind.

Highly Sensitive Mind.

Debate.

An Attempt at “Easy Writing”

I want to write something easy. So, that’s what this is. It isn’t particularly meaningful, or profound. But at least it’s something. I want to write something. It’s odd to want to write something that isn’t meaningful. But yet, here this is. It’s so much easier than writing something meaningful. It isn’t as meaningful. But it’s easier. And it’s writing. And I’m crazy.

I desire to make this longer than it currently is, so I’m adding this. Once again, it isn’t particularly meaningful. But it’s easy. And so, here it is.

I wish I could stop obsessing about readers. Readers confuse me. I need them, but hate them. But I don’t want to write about them again. But I want to write something. What direction am I taking this? Why do I enjoy this? Why do I enjoy fucking with you, the reader? You’re expecting this to go somewhere. Or nowhere. Which one will it be? Only one way to find out.

Oh, look. Here’s where it goes. Is this what you were expecting? Yes? No?

What about now?

What in the fuck am I doing? Why do I enjoy doing this? Is this good or bad? Smart or dumb? Where are we going? What am I doing?

Why do I enjoy messing with your head? Are you messed with?

Why is it easy for me to mess with your head? Where am I going with this? Why do I want to write when this ends up being what I write?

Why don’t you care?

Why are you continuing to read?

Why did you stop?

What point am I trying to make?

Why do I need to make a point?

Why have I decided to make these separate “paragraphs” all of the sudden?

What does any of this matter?

Does your mind feel messed with?

Am I clever, or just mentally ill?

What next? I’m running out of ideas. But did I even have any to begin with? Is this a character’s monologue in a fictional story? Is this about me? What isn’t? Did I mess with your head again?

What would I even call this? Is this funny? Is this good?

There’s no point to this. Or is there? Where am I going with this? Why does it continue? And why does it continue…to go nowhere? Why is this fun for me?

What do you think of this? Why do you love this or hate this? Where am I going with this?

This is so much easier than actually making a point. “String of consciousness” is easier, even if it’s worse.

But is it bad? What is it?

It is easy. And it is writing.

And it is done. Sadly.

What’s next? Wait, is it done, or not? You’re cheating. Looking to see how much is left. Did I lie? Or tell the truth? Why are you reading this? Why did you stop? What’s the point of this?

Why am I crazy? Or am I sane? What is the point of this? Why do I love writing this? Is your head messed with? Or is it fixed?

Am I done? Or not?

To the People that Think that Becoming a Professional Writer Isn’t Very Difficult.

A Quick Message About Music and Message

If I genuinely and intently tried to understand every single message that every single band from every single song that I listen to and have listened to was trying to convey (with further, non-musical explanations from them as well), I’d stop listening to music altogether.

Imagining what they’re talking about (or viewing their words as mere melody, without message), is a frequent enjoyment that I obtain from listening to music.

Sorry, artists.

I more than likely just don’t fucking care.

Keep up the good beats and melodies, though 😉

Another PROFOUND quote from my best friend, Devin Stevens

He posted this on his Facebook page an hour ago.

“There are four kinds of people in the world: those who, in their desire to remold tradition, think 2 plus 2 equals 5, those who worship the past and say 2 plus 2 equals 4, and the compromisers who want to declare that the number is around 3.434. The fourth is the rarest and most treasured kind of person, those who seek higher, more meaningful truths than those the defenders of the past revere; they hold, and will not hear it otherwise, that 2 and 2 is the cubed root of 64.”

Check out his blog here.