i see.

Do you remember that little rhyme we all used to sing when we were young? Yeah, the one where we'd all sing in unison when we put our little desks in a circle, the tape cassette playing in the background. Do you see what i see? do you see what I see?.... I dont remember the name. But the tune stuck with me. along with the words. Do you see what I see? Some how when we get older it takes a whole new meaning. forming more exigence as we ourselves grow. the desire to be understood.i. singular.i see.to be so involved in understanding. its like were reach our hands out for everything grasping. desperately grasping. hoping will get something out of it. hoping that a string of words'll mean something so much more than it really does. to understand. and to be understood. why does it mean so much to us... no. I dont think were meant to see eye to eye. maybe in a shallow sense yeah. but no two eyes are ever exactly the same. in shape, distance, color. or perspective.It has a sweet childlike quality to it doesn't it?

will you ever be able to see what I see?

Coffee Cup.

I love that fact that people can just do or say or write notes or journals or blogs and not be held responsible for it. its like. in everyones own domain. they can say what ever the hell they want letting friends and strangers alike read these things.. even if they are questionable or totally disagreeable. but life just goes back to the way they were. like icing. nothing happened. there's no crack on the cake. shhhh...

People who read it and totally agree and leave a little comment or two admiring the cleverness and such of the piece.. while others really dont like it, leaves a lengthy anecdote or whatnots listing the reasons why they themselves personally dont agree.'you have good points of view, but i dont quite agree... heres why: blah blah blah, blah blaaaaah. see? Im right and your wrong.'

And yet there are others who isn't quite the extreme, but also who arn't so inclined with the subject and dismisses it thinking its a joke. some huge sham. these are the people who im quite interested in. The in betweens. like they have an opinion. everyone always does. its human nature. but they refuse to address it. the people who usually answer with a prolonged 'ehhhhhh' I think its funny that people tend to dismiss things they dont quite like. not so much you mind you that they form arguments to defend whateverside but just enough not to believe. Or just enough to convince themselves it doesn't exists or have no real impact in their life... putting it in a deep shelf of their consciousness.

Im a firm believer that everything from watching the news, walking down the street, talking to strangers, feeling the rain or the sun to reading random blogs influences who we are as people. They have this filter you see. like the ones you find used to make a nicely brewed coffee...Its funny because they dont know it exists. especially the fact that its part of their every waking moment. it's funny because they dont understand it so they make another little shelf in their consciousness and hide it away. I think human filters are the most interesting and funniest things.

The Rain Told Me Certain Things I Thought I'd Never Hear.

There is so much things in life that i have yet to know. It seems like I never have enough time. I want to know people. you know? I want to know who they really are, where they come from, what are they most passionate about in life... to see the true quality of their hearts.

is that too impossible?

Like an xray vision in a matchbox world. I dont know what that means. Some people think im all play and no work. Like one of thouse kids that go to collage just to fuck around and go to parties to get drunk and get high. I think its funny. Well, and a bit insulting. But thats just me.

I'd like to live in an island.

As in the wilderness. and camp my days away. have random pet animals. Like monkeys. and jellyfishes. and be totally secluded from everything else. Just to get to know myself, and what i stand for.

Love is confusing. And sometimes hard to believe it really exists.

I know Im a passionate person. and I love myself for it.

I dont think there is anything about myself I regret. At this moment, in this point of time in my life. There might have been some really shitty things that happened to me in the past... But I dont think Im so bitter towards it as I used to be. Its... self love. I suppose. Everything that happened to me all the little things... all the experiences.. all the people... all the places.. all the little conversations... has made who I am today.

And frankly, There's no one in the world I rather be.

When things are coming to an end, we tend to panic. basic human reflex, i suppose. Its hard to embrace whats to come especially when its uncertain.

We live in a world of uncertainty. isn't that right?

I think people tend to live miserably because they try so hard to go against the flow of what is suppose to become us... of whats to come in the end of each chapter. They refuse to embrace uncertainty and chance, luck, destiny, random, serendipity... all the things that cant really be explained.

Security is a Myth.

no one is ever satisfied. It's hard to believe we all use to have nothing.
and when the little things used to be enough.

I think were all so wrapped up in what we would like to have in the future, that sometimes we forget to live.

Is it so different? To live and being alive? I think it is. Everyone would like to think they've lived their life.

I want to believe is something. I want to be able to believe in something so much that Im willing to give things up for it.

I want to go out with a bang. there was never any question you know. how we feel.

We'd all like to go through life thinking we've found the right one, met the right friends, loved the right people.

so much depend on perspective.

Can happiness be relative? Is everything relative? I say yeah. hell yeah.

Theres so many of us its hard to know where we belong. are niches already pre-made? or they appear as people realize that they're to become?

and what if theres not enough for all of us?

I want to able to think that everything was worth it.

Foot Soldier

I've lost interest. Is that such a bad thing? No. never in life. Is it because i love too much and too hard.. what ever happened to my resolve... funny ain't it? just when you thought you knew a person... but, how exactly do you know a person? is it when you can list what they like or don't like? their beliefs?? their history? what is it that is important to you...

get over it.

Buddhism is for quitters. did ya know? ...to relinquish all material bonds... abandon all dishonest livelihood... abandon all the wrong and harmful thoughts, words, and deeds

to escape suffering... is it really possible? would you take a world with no suffering but of detachment? You i think that its part of life.. to suffer, to feel pain.. i think that that's how you know your alive....

because to love and ultimately in everlasting rapture is to dream... a dream like state so bitter sweet for the knowledge that it cannot and will not last. So born from nothing albeit the moon. silver lining had no cause but of one and of one there came a goddess. She walked the earth and created marble halls and a throne of gold sewn with her enemy's blood and there she conquered the world. she died of a broken heart, for from the many she slayed one was her other half.

gods can only die from a broken heart so i've heard. imagine a world in which old age and infirmity is no threat and forever we lived in eden but death will come swift in the form of a broken heart. would we all die? i wonder how different everything will be. ...

can one suffer from a broken heart if it was not truely love?

Food For Thought

A given emotional dilemma of all sorts. short circuit the unbelievable, and make it what it is. to describe what is nothing. to make believe what can never be. a surprising outcome to something so beautiful. contrive, resist, the futility of it all. rushing minds of pedantricity and the resolute never final. save for what? leave me nothing, explain what nothingness is. Absence. all meanderings begin to end. benign thoughts. the uselessness of it all, all the misgivings all the contempt, all the rage all the tears, with all the wishes of this world, nothing what is not, can never be. what is not real, cannot be real. can it? can it? can there really be more that we see? but what is real? strings in a knot, paper in a voluminous book, a speck of dust in some inconspicuous altar of sorts. do i dare to believe the unbelievable, to follow a story with no happy endings? to jump with uncertainty that someone is there to catch my fall. the futility of it all vexes my soul to no end. sever, cut, slash, devastate and regain. delude and reach indulgence. break free of the everyday mundane. Solve me nothing and request what is to be and create from nothing, and fill what was not there before. save me, save me, save me, say that you will. say that there is never-ending love and say happy endings does exist, i want to believe in the unbelievable, i want to break free for the everyday mundane. Tell me selflessness does exist, and i will smile. for there is death in the refusal to believe.

[Sunday, September 21, 2008 at 10:53am]

Apple Cider

Sing a song that i know she cooed, were you aware that the sunshine shines only indarkness though soley through livid expressions? Harbor menace and deliver the final blow--- a smirking success. Ramparts do swing as playgrounds fall prey to unattended children. I saw the panther walk and talk galvanizing some astute behavior of deer-- only seen in near catatonic state the impossible became all the more possible by teh moment. Derive the meaning of these constituents and dance in the flames of inquiry in the form of like little sands of flies swarming about some decaying rotunda. Destitute in nature, the lack of eloquence is harrowing and at best amusing. The strategy of omission is brilliant in life,--yet, evokes feelings of nostalgia and one becomes-- almost willingly-- estranged. Jettisoned from the proper hierarchy its a wonder to know the true intentions of these capricious minds. And all that was said --sagacious in reasoning the thought of an obscure paramour, embellished and trimmed with all the proper sweet nothings as it was. harmless as it was. sweet as it was. determined as it was. For fear has no hold in the bold and the cavalier. Though jaded as she was never did the tiger retract her claws nor did the wolf hide its fangs. In hypnagogic stupor i feigned all the came and delighted surreptitiously-- brazen in all things concerned. The dewy grass is yet more sinful. A notion so harmonious and so peculiar its a wonder how delinquency became so trite. She lives. Walk with me in my garden and i will show you all the places that i would hide. Walk away, was twilight always been so warm?

Inconsistency

Commonality for me, can easily be confused with love and as if reassurance are never too real, consistency of inconsistence is all to prevailing. As if the engagement of the mind is much more than a relation of that of convenience. I confess my flaw, alas it’s true! I act due to convenience and efficiency, productivity, and all other factors that should not be considered at all when looked upon this certainty. The flavor in which one exhumes is sometimes too euphoric to resist. No matter the acidity of its cause. There in the corner, what do you find? A fine petal to where there is neither begging nor end, a ribbon of sorts that cannot be cut nor folded; and never ending as it seems to be. So let it be, let it flow, follow where ever it may lead. For, ultimate transcendence or utter demise, a choice you alone to make which path to follow in this savage garden of sorts. Oh sweet release a rapture only too contrive. Save me nothing, remember? The aroma and odor of a flower is as biting and inviting so sweet as if to meet that of a gait, that of a stare, and that of a smile. NOTHING! Why? Why is it that I cannot think of anything? I value none but my own yes? What is a catalyst of sorts, some prevalent epidemic that causes my mind to soul to delve into a spiraling darkness and into the belly of the beast? A flirt. A flaunt of the dancing flora of this illustrious adamant atrophy. Habitual it seems this preternatural existence that sleeps within me. Haven ward it looks on blank and absent, it seems its eyes. A collective transgression that devolve as it advances. As if a poisonous vine of thorns surround and engulf me to be taken into nowhere. Habitual it seems, as it wreathes, twisting and meandering all around—growing, groaning with in me. In likeness of a moth to a flame.

Why is it that my eyes refuse to tear? I see my demise as clear as it has never been, and here I am, smiling. I smile if through it all everything will happen to it own as if it was to the accordance of fate itself. Such hypocrisy and naïveté is maddening. Always unfinished and incomplete—never willing to dive into the unknown with eyes fully closed.