Discovery
I’ve wasted a lot of time. I’ve spent so many months trying to find something, something that was there all along, and now, after a bit of eye-opening situations and the reality of my plight, I have realized what needs to be accomplished. I just need to keep writing and reading. This is a discussion—and argument—as to why I should keep the struggle going, and not disappoint what I cherish so fervently.
What I’ve Lost
The base template to write on.
While I was studying at New Mexico State University, I noticed a large desire to write towards the end of my senior year. I attribute this desire on the fact that I was reading large amounts of literature, so this is where I guess that old idea (and one that I toted on a constant basis) that if you want to write, then you need to read even more than you write.
I haven’t read all that much since I graduated, but I still have the desire to write. My trouble is finding a black template, a clear idea of how I would like to write and what about. The literature I enjoy reading are novels that are usually over 50 plus years old, and have been discussed for just as long in academia. Take for example 1984 by George Orwell, easily one of my favorite books due Orwell’s ability to paint a dystopian world that many people were afraid to visualize for themselves. Even though what happened in the novel did not in fact happen in the real world, the novel is still regarded as one of the best depictions of what could happen under a totalitarian form of governance; so, when I read these books, I get the desire to write in the way these authors have written. This leads to two issues:
- Writing Style. These authors were masters at their trade. They put paper to pen day in and day out trying to get all their ideas into a tight, nit fictional story that represents the angst they were feeling. They also read at an alarming level in comparison to today’s standards. (A question that I really need to delve into is what kinds of literature they enjoyed reading, and what they felt they needed to read. George Orwell mentions in his short auto-biography Why I Write that all art is political. If this is true, then we most likely gravitate to the political situation that most affects us.) Not only did they read at alarming levels, they also found part time jobs that usually had positive impacts on their writing. If I remember right, a vast majority of classic author—those who are studied in the classroom, usually—had worked in fields where their writing were accentuated. My question is: how can this be possible today? If I wanted to go about writing in a method that reflects the writing I enjoy, then must I find a job like ones they had? Because those kinds of jobs are few and far between these days. A side note: there is something I still haven’t done, something that, I guess, Picasso had done, which was to copy or trace your favor painter (in my case, that would be an author). So one of the practices I think I will begin to partake in would be this “tracing” of my favorite authors. But, what bothers me is the readership. These authors—that we study—have had such high levels of stylistic and artistic writing that they have changed the ways of writing, and these days, as I see it, writing withered over the years (this could be a whole-nother topic). Where do I find my voice?
- Time, Expectations, and Media. Like most authors I idolize, they had been writing and enjoying, so-to-speak, the process of writing, and most started at young ages, giving them a fair amount of practice, experimentation, and discovery, and doing this takes time, lots of time. Even though we live much longer than most did during earlier times, we still have only a finite amount of time left on this mortal coil. The idea that I am trying to follow in the footsteps of these authors is terrifying. I usually ask myself, “can I even come close to writing like they did,” “is our time period worth writing about,” “do I really have enough struggle and angst like they did?” There are countless amounts of questions like these that I ask myself, and the answer I usually come up with is NO! The expectations on writers (fiction writers mostly) are usually to follow what is popular, and just take that route, seeing it’s the easiest way to make a living. Nothing important today can come from a dying medium. Picture someone trying to make an important, political statement, or outcry, through telegraph and Morse code; it just wouldn’t be possible, that medium could not support such important messages; and today is no different. Upcoming generations, mine included, will be finding their answers on YouTube, Facebook, Tumbler, and Twitter. The older generations are looking more towards television than books, and the books they do look to are straight forward and are academia based. If you want to write, and write something important, and you would like to get it out there, what would be the point if no reads it wholly because it doesn’t follow the current media?
What Needs to be Done
I need to write every day. I may not be able to change the minds of many people, but seeing that I’m trading the sword for the pen, I need to take the responsibility and do what I feel needs to be done, but what is that? I get the feeling I might be some kind of reincarnation of Fredrich Engels. I come from the middle class, but I see and sense great injustice in our times, but there is not enough people willing to stand up and say fight, just yet. I had a discussion with my Aunt and Grandma over Thanksgiving about the death of the Philosopher and process of creating new modes of living (I sound like a great guy to have for dinner, huh?).
The Everyday: Every day—people think. They think of the bills they have to pay, whether or not their family will be there when they get home, if the bread-maker will bring bread to dinner, if a friend is doing okay with their break-up, when their next shift at work is, and, the mother of all, how much money is in their checking account. These are worries that infiltrate the thought process, and halt the catalyst for original and creative thought.
The Not-So Every Day: Political and social issues affect us every day. Even though these issues affect us on an on-going basis, they are usually the things that we try not to fix, because of the sense that they might not be fixable. We do at times try, usually in college, but, from my understanding, the processes ends once you leave college and start working for a paycheck. In a way, we begin to start the formulation of expectations, how our family thinks we should live, how our society thinks we should live, and how we believe we should live. This seems to be another method of blocking the creativity that is needed to try and discover new and improved modes of living.
So, what does the “death of the Philosopher” have to do with these two ideas? What has happened over the years seems to be a systemic deconstruction of our will to rebel and think of new kinds of societies. Think how often we hear how America “is the greatest country in the world”. Currently, this is not true, yet this is the kind of mentality many people want you to think; because, if we have hit the pinnacle of greatness, then we should we reforming anything—if it ain’t broke, then don’t fix it. My question is: if the populace believes were the best, but the facts show otherwise, then why would they want try something else?
I guess my writing is going to philosophical, political, and a desire to see change happen not just to other, but to myself as well, just like Engels. We’ll see, all I know is that I need some help.
A Possible New Wind
If I really want a career, my life’s work–my life’s dreams, to be based around writing, then I need to make a stand for myself, to myself, to my own mind and my own sufferings that, I can do this. This blog may not be read by anyone, but, hopefully someday, some of my writings will be.
Evalin
Sitting in the back seat of her car, Evalin couldn’t help but notice the stain Carter left. To her, this was just another night down town; and she was unsure what this night meant to him, if it meant anything at all. The expectations of something interesting happening in her town, besides the unexpected sensation of vomit from her lovers, has struck her more than once since she moved out to Vegas. This short-running, new boyfriend of her’s seemed like a catch at first, but the back seat of her Toyota looked to disagree with her. It has only been three months since they’ve started dating, and the frustration Carter creates in her is, at moments, immense. The constant thought that she has always dated guys like this runs through her thoughts like wind running through leaves. Carter is not a bad guy, he tries his best, he would never let anything bad happen to me–she thinks during the quick moments of anxiety; but Evalin’s anxiety is not directly related with Carter, but instead with her father.
Balcony-Night Blues
Balcony-Night Blues
Why do you leave me now?
At a moment when I needed you the most.
You were always so sickly amiable!
I guess you were right; we were just
A cliché, star-crossed lovers.
Upon this balcony, staring at you;
Tears swelling at my eyes,
Kissing my cheeks;
True blue skies have vanished;
Now shineless,
Leaving the droplets famished.
Lewdness shrieks once again for two:
Did you witness,
The vulgarity that infected you?
Did you witness,
Everything I did to/for you?
I don’t deserve this, this treatment.
Or, do I deserve this?
I might not have tried my hardest; but
Instead, I wish for you much less.
Upon this balcony, I see you walk away;
Tears swelling at my eyes,
Kissing my cheeks;
True blue skies have vanished;
Now shineless,
Leaving the droplets famished.
Must I play the part of some King;
One disowning his daughter
Because her love was too great?
Oh, how I hate these roles we play!
Does it have to be
The same thing day n’ day?
I look at this void—this balcony;
Tears swelling at my eyes,
Kissing my cheeks;
True blue skies have vanished;
Now shineless,
Leaving the droplets famished.
Do you truly believe
I owe you anything of me?
You—young mind of the Lithuanian
Who had the world turned against him!
You—blue blood of the innocent lamb
Who is being sent to the slaughter.
You—who will be the one,
Who will be the one that falters?
—You!
Falter! My friend, falter,
And fade away into oblivion.
Now—
The darkness shall consume you;
Leaving no one on this balcony but—;
Tears forever gone from my eyes,
Maybelline on my cheeks,
And a makeshift smile for the weak.
The Blue skies shine once again,
But not for you my friend.
Adding some missed Achievements!
Hey Everyone!
Since school got so crazy, and since I was taking a little break from posting, I was unable to post some of the achievements I collected over the past 3-4 weeks. So, without further introduction:
Read 2 novels in a week-20 points
Read 3 novels in a month-30 points
Read 4 novels in a month-45 points
Run 4 miles in a day-10 points
Run 5 miles in a day-10 points
Run 10 miles in a week-5 points
Run 15 miles in a week-5 points
Run 20 miles in a week-10 points
Run 30 miles in a month-5 points
Practice guitar each day of the week-20 points
Practice guitar for 15 days straight-15 points
————————————–
I am done posting for the night. These I will get to tomorrow.
Go 1 day without caffeine-5 points
Go 2 days without caffeine-5 points
Go 3 days without caffeine-5 points
Go 5 days without caffeine-10 points
Go 7 days without caffeine-15 points
Go 2 weeks without caffeine-10 points
Go 1 day without drinking alcohol-5 points
Go 2 days without drinking alcohol-5 points
Go 3 days without drinking alcohol-5 points
(Finished)Go 1 year without smoking-90 points
A Night of Debated Minds
Hi Everyone!
So, halfway through my last semester at NMSU I began to have this driving desire to write some prose. This is just a quick snip of something I think I might pursue in the future, but it is not set in stone. What I am trying to do with this piece is 2 things: (1) I am trying to write a piece of prose, obviously, and (2) if I have any writer’s ink in my blood I would try and find some philosophic forms of discourse and descriptions within my prose writing; or something like that. Hope you read every little bit of it, and I really hope you enjoy it, if not then please let me know what bothered you 😀
A Night of Debated Minds
It was a chilly, November evening, and Sandra was sitting on the floor of her apartment like a child playing with her toys, but,instead of toys, tonight, she was sorting through her banking statements. The way Sandra handled her bills was that of an old-school method: pen, checkbook, and addition and subtraction in a small notebook. She couldn’t help the feeling that Jonathan wanted nothing to do with her debt, as if her debt would somehow contaminate his all too perfect method of handling money. “I was a bank teller at one point Sandra, and I have strong sense of saving money. If you need my help, let me know,” was his reply when he thought she might be struggling with her bills. She looked up at him and gave him her makeshift smile and began to think, “What does he know about money! He’s just some spoiled, little child who has had everything given to him on some silver platter; he should be helping me without me having to ask for it, he owes me at least that!”
Yes, at some point Jonathan was a bank teller, he was a teller for a small third rate bank in Nevada, but he had experience saving his own money, not in saving someone else’s money. Although that was a reality and a possibility, he really just did not wish to help her save up some money to pay off her debts. Deep down he had a feeling that she might not want the money to be saved, or maybe he wanted her to save the money herself. But, to her, that would have been some form of pseudo-logical mode of thinking because, being the love of his life, he should do anything possible to help her. Jonathan was under the assumption that she wanted him to help her in any way he could, but he abstained from doing so. This all steamed from a small discussion at Sandra’s aunt’s house.
Four to five months before the discussion of debt, Jonathan and Sandra were visiting her aunt to celebrate part of her Thanksgiving weekend. Aunt Ophelia was an eccentric individual; someone whom invites others with open arms, but at the same time would be harsh to those whom she loved. This harshness was not out of bitterness or spite, but from a desire to be an “honest and open person as possible.” She desired to see the people around her to be pleasant, and with any host of a house.
Aunt Ophelia’s residence was similar to her personality, the meeting of a tornado and a street cleaner, but with a touch of neatness. Sandra’s aunt’s house was continuously filled with the same mishappenings night after night: red wine, music, and dancing. It usually did not matter too much who would be there for Ophelia to enjoy a few glasses, and begin to dance to some of her favorite songs. This specific night was not much different from those nights except for a conversation that would soon send Jonathan searching for answers in the love of his life.
“Oh, I just love that song! I know, to you youngans, it is just some 70’s—crap, but to me it’s just the most awesomness song in the world!” exclaimed Ophelia with much jubilation. This excitement was drawn from the warmth that her niece and her niece’s boyfriend would visit her for Thanksgiving.
“It’s our pleasure Ophi. You know we love to come and see you.” Sandra said with utter warmth. “Oh, but now it is my turn to choose a song.”
“What are you going to choose babe?” Jonathan said with his usual, slight tone of curiosity when it came to Sandra’s choices to music.
Sandra proclaimed with much excitement, almost to the extent when philosophers are absorbed in modes of though and ways of living, “I am going to play Miss Independent by Kelly Clarkson. Ah, I just love this song!”
“I love that song too!” Ophelia blurted as she rose her wine glass towards the sky.
As the music was playing, Sandra started to idealize and vocalize a life she seemed to have been dreaming of. “Oh, it is just a pure testament of how I want to live; completely free—completely independent.”
With the idea of where this discussion would lead Jonathan couldn’t help but wince; but, as was his custom, to him, he would take such an argument like this and bear it with him, and would not share his opinion with the ones, here with him, whom he loved with utter passion. He thought to himself, “That makes no sense! It would be impossible for her to be completely independent. For if she was to be ‘completely free—completely independent’ she would perish, because there would be no one to save her. The world is a cruel and chaotic mess; she can’t be serious about living independent form the rest of us, could she? Even though, I think it is a silly idea, if she wants this independence so bad, then she can have it.”
Jonathan tried not to think of this in a malicious way. He didn’t wish to have her struggling on her own, but instead, he thought, that he was doing something of higher consequence, something better not just for her but them both. Even though he might not have completely respected her taste in music, he still respected the ways she wanted to pursue her life choices. Something in him would not allow himself to take away such a “testament” from this angel in his presence. He may not have liked the idea of this, and, somewhere in the recesses of his experience, he knew this would probably tear the relationship apart. But, what was the most important aspect to him, for the relationship he thought, was seeing that she got what she wanted, even if that meant releasing himself from her presence.
Assassins of the Heart
Seriously, inspiration can strike anywhere at anytime, and this happened to me during my run last night. About 2 miles into my run I thought of this poem (FYI: the achievement description came from a famous quote by a famous poet, try and find it who it was!):
Target: Love
By Shane Grayson
Blood pumping through veins;
Heart beating at an increased rate;
Nerves shocked with excitement;
These damn stairs are never ending.
She is draped over my shoulder;
At moments tickling my ear;
“Hold her close for dear life”, I tell myself
She is the only friend I have left.
We finally make it to the room, and
I lay her on the bed with gentility;
I begin to undress her piece by piece;
I see that she is in pieces,
And I propose to put her back together.
She is the only friend I’ve ever known;
We have been through so much together;
Seen the world through each other’s eyes;
Hers more clearer than mine at times, but, as I believe,
I am the only one in control, not she.
Even though she is a puzzle to others,
I am the only one whom can put her back together;
Only I can’t put her back together,
And use her in the way she was meant to be used.
Once again, we are and ready to dance;
Opening the window for our preparation,
Even though at times these moments cause trepidation;
Opening the window soothes my soul;
Or maybe this is just one of our preparatory habits.
I find the testament in her dress, and
It reads like a laundry list of famous men;
With names, or, are they words?
Are they scratched out?
No, they are words, words thrown away without pause.
There is one word left on this list;
All the others have been scratched out;
She truly is a work of art, this incarnate love;
We peer out the window with endless bliss;
Our target has been spotted, and we shall not miss.
Back from my Hiatus
Well, I am back from my short hiatus, and I brought along a friend I’d like you all to meet: Bachelors of Arts in English.
As I would guess it with most college grad’s, I am a bit burnt out right now, and I am just relaxing for the next few days. But, as is my custom on this blog, here is an awesome achievement for myself.
As soon as I am rested and ready to start my transition into the “real” world (scare quotes), I will post all the achievements that I have accumulated over the past month. Surprisingly, it is quite a bit.
Oh, I cant wait!
Till next time, ta-ta
-Shane
Anti-thesis of the Beloved
The Heart aches as the eyes begin to swell.
The Heart still leaps at the sound of your name, the thought of your voice, the possibility to redeem.
The Heart creates thoughts of timelessness and moments of uncertainty.
The Heart leaves those wondering if what they did was correct.
The Heart is a forgiveness generator.
The Mind is a constant battle for the present and past life.
The Mind wants to look into the future, yet it can only see so far as its eye will allow it.
The Mind thinks it knows all the answers, and pities the heart for its ignorance.
The Mind is a decision generator.
All that was done was to pacify the self.
All that was done has been done once before.
All that was done cannot be corrected.
The Loved Ones are oblivious!
The Loved Ones fell into oblivion…
The heart and mind will never forgive all that was done to The Loved Ones.
A New (Old) Jam!
Hi to the Unpeeps! (those who do not follow this bodacious blog)
Got a new tune I wanted to post. Classes are crazy right now, but I have only 7 days till I am out of dis biznotch! So excited about that 🙂 Well, enjoy the small jam.
Just Posting New Achievement
Hi everyone, Shane here,
Today is an exciting day for your dear, old friend Shane. So, as most of you can see, I have received another achievement today: Musical Megalomaniac. But that is not why today is so exciting; why today is so exciting is because I have the frame work to my first song. And I am going to post the chords on the site just in case I lose the sheet it is written on. So, without further ado, let me introduce:
Until I Sleep by Shane Grayson
Intro: C Am C G (Easy strum to hear all strings)
Verse 1: Em C G D x4 (Different strumming pattern for 3rd and 4th bar)
Chorus 1: C Am C Em/D x2 (Last Chord on 2nd bar changes to G; that is not a Em/G slash chord)
Verse 2: Em C G D x4 (Different strumming pattern for 3rd and 4th bar)
Chorus 2: C Am C Em/D x2 (Last Chord on 2nd bar changes to G; that is not a Em/G slash chord)
Outro: Em C G D/G (Play first four through 1 bar then end with G for final bar and let it fade out)
Exciting huh!? I can’t wait to practice this a bit more, record it, and the post it so everyone can hear it. Till next time, ta-ta.
Possibly Posting Something Listenable?
Just wanted to post some music. I think I was planning on doing this earlier, so here it is:
Forgot Original Reason, but Making Headway
I forgot my original reason for coming 
on to post tonight. I was planning on posting something, but now I cannot think of what that was. What happened was–I got stuck looking at my achievement list and the achievements I have accomplished since my last post. And as you can probably see, I have been kind of busy recently. But, once I remember what I was planning on posting I will get right on it; it was going to be something good, oh, I do hope I remember.
A New Addition to the Family (Blog)
What I have decided to do for this blog is to turn it into a video game review journal. I, of course, will still be ranting and raving about nonsensical dribble from time to time and posting my Achievements, but I think this route will give the blog a little boost in reader ship; plus I am looking to becoming a video game reviewer. Well see how this goes; I know journalism is difficult field to enter, but I will never know until I try. Well, if anyone ever has any advice on writing reviews pass ’em this way!
My Video Game Script
Been dieing to write a script for a video game ever since I was in High School. So I figure, since I am about to graduate, why not try one now. I just wrote this up tonight. If anyone reads this I hope they enjoy it 🙂 The style was taken from a Final Fantasy script.
Start of SCENE 1
– Historical Pastoral Village – Lacasteria
(Start Screen with Choices: Start, Options. Background is a small wooden house with people working outside: lifting hay, shoveling, etc. The sky is a luscious blue with no clouds and a slight breeze. Upon pressing the start button, or choosing Start, screen pans back and begins to circle around the small house. The camera the shifts and pulls towards the back of the house where a young boy, age 7-9, is practice with his sword. His father, presumably 28-32 years in age is giving him instructions. Place the camera at an angle showing both the boy and the father)
Old Man: Good, keep that up. Maybe one day you’ll be like you Uncle Lancaster and join the Royal Army.
Young Boy: Can I take a break yet; I’m getting hungry!
Old Man: That’s fine. Make sure to sheath the sword before you head inside. And, let your mother know I will be in there in a minute. I am going to go check up on you sister, and see how she is faring with the hay.
Young Boy: ‘kay Dad!
Boy runs off into the house.
Exit Boy and Dad
**(Player gains control of the old man, and is given tips on how to control him)
Dad: I need to go over to the front and see if I can’t find Sheila.
**(Player runs Old Man to Shelia)
Enter Shelia and Dad
Shelia: Hey Dad, how goes everything?
Dad: Just teaching Yurik in the back how to properly use a sword. You need any help loading that hay onto the cart?
Shelia: Wouldn’t hurt.
Shelia begins to laughs. Just then, at that moment, near the road in front of the house, and behind them, a flurry of horses carrying Knights of the Royal Army come storming by and create a half circle around Dad and Shelia.
Enter 4-5 Soldiers all heavily armed
Soldier: Are you Ex-Captain Fortiori of the Special Operations Brigade Unit 3?
Dad: That’s me, but I just go Chalice now; what is the meaning of this intrusion soldier?
Lt. Arvarigus: Lt. Arvarigus, sir; I have been given an order to escort you to the Royal Highness. He says needs your presence urgently.
Chalice: Like I told you soldier I…
Chalice looks off into the distance and notices that another Veteran from the Royal Army that has been residing in Lacasteria is being escorted back as well.
Chalice: (Aside) Hm—something’s strange…
Alright; let me saddle my horse, gather my gear, and then I will be ready to leave; should only be ‘bout half an hour.
Lt. Arvarigus: Thank you sir.
Chalice: When do you suppose I will be able to return home?
Lt. Arvarigus: His Royal Highness say that you should be back before the sun rises tomorrow morning.
Chalice’s wife comes running out to see what the commotion is.
Chalice’s Wife: What is the meaning of this? Don’t you know that he retired!? He does not need to fight for you or the kind any longer!
Lt. Arvarigus: Madam, we understand this, all the king needs is to talk with the Ex-Captain.
Chalice: Sweetheart, go back inside and grab my gear will ya. I need to have a quick word with Shelia
Wife runs back inside. Chalice saddles the horse and then walks over to Shelia and gives her a big bear hug.
Chalice: I sense something’s wrong. There is a spare pistol in the underneath the side of my bed, where the latch is. If anything should happen while I am gone make sure to grab a hold of that and try to protect your mother and brother.
Shelia: What are you talking about father!?
Chalice: Just do as I say, ‘kay?
Shelia: A-alright… but Dad…!
Chalice heads back over to the soldiers, wife meets him there with his sword, pistol, and buckler, and finally saddles-up on the horse.
Chalice: They said I will be back first thing tomorrow morning, so make sure to have some of you delicious cooking, ‘kay Kasey?
Kasey: Um-hum… just be safe.
Chalice and soldiers ride of towards the North. Shelia walks over to Kasey.
Exit Chalice and Soldiers
Shelia: What do you suppose this is all about?
Kasey: I—I don’t know. Seems so strange for them to come out here, out of know where, without any warning; I—I just don’t understand. It would have left me with a different feeling if he hadn’t been acting so weird.
Exit Shelia and Kasey
Fade out scene.
End of SCENE 1
The Best Way to Learn Hamlet
QUACK!!
I have spent the past 3 weeks studying Hamlet, and I just recently found all the answers! Enjoy 🙂
Thanks to the peeps who helped me graduate college in 60 seconds!
An Omni-Glorious Edifice
I wrote a few poems over the winter break, and now I am thinking of posting ’em–no harm no foul, right?
An Omni-Glorious Edifice
A fire so forbidden,
It is hidden within the heart.
One small dart
Of water is quickly evaporated,
And the complicated matter
Of air and earth,
Leave them
With breathless despair.
Thunder tearing through the mind,
Lightning striking thrice,
The billowing anger of the gods
Who were forgotten
By the following nights,
And the whimper of the human.
The human soul
Forges the strongest glow.
Letting go of salvation,
reincarnation,
And accept this devastation;
Just withdraw from hope
In rebuilding from ruination.
A Moment of Clarity
I Just had a moment of clarity (not the AA-type mind you).
I was philosophizing one day to an ex-girlfriend of mine (I am sure most girls would rather gouge their eyes with ice pickers) about life and how people need to walk with their heads held high. And why would I say something like that? “Because we are here, and we are alive. We have finite time here and we need to make the best of it!” Sure, the usual stuff you hear from self help books and what not, but she replied to me, “Life is not like that. Life is real and difficult, painful and sadistic to the point of no return. In the real world, Shane, no one cares about those ideas. They work great in college, but in the real world they matter not!”
I know now why those ideas don’t matter in this world. It is because we do not allow others to philosophize, to day dream out loud, tell us our dreams with sincerity, to allow the the quick to speak out, or whatever you believe is holding people back from allowing their minds to be expressed in a corporal way. This world may not be loving or understanding, it may be a cruel chimera design to torture us, it may even be the hell prophesied by so many religions, whatever it is, it should not have the power to suppress the minds that need to speak, and it should not suppress those voices already shouting.
For those of you who read this: when you can, allow those around you to discuss their beliefs, and ask them how they would feel if you questioned those beliefs.
Creativity is dead…
…, and we killed it. Did we ever have creativity in the first place? We work like cogs in a machine. Even those who claim to be separate share a common place with the other whom claims independence; they also share a place as the antithesis to the cogs. Has there ever been a time where we have thought outside of the box? Looking back to one of the first marvels to what could be considered creation–fire. A creature at some point figured out how to create fire; although, he never really created fire, he only learned how to contain it. Another example–the wheel. Once again, can the concept of the wheel be found at all in nature? This is the closest moment I can think of that where creativity is at its highest; although, an example can be seen as a squirrel pushes a nut to its tree. If the nut, in existence, was more of a square then rolling would be more difficult and ask extra from the squirrel. There is difficulty in rolling a square; maybe that is why they mention “thinking-outside-of-the-box.” Should we even attempt to think outside of the box? If we do, what could be the outcome? Think for a moment of Charles Darwin, he had an idea that went against convention—evolution. But did it go against convention? Was it really devised outside of the box, or was it always in the box but now found? Maybe the box is our limit of consciousness. Maybe, it is impossible to think in that form. If it impossible to think outside of consciousness, then, why is it devised this way?
What I am trying to accomplish by writing this is, in itself, impossible. What I propose here is that there is only one place to think, and that is within the boundaries. The boundaries were meant to keep you in, and they will bend against you if you try to escape. If what I am stating is true, then what could be said of war? If war, defining as the opposite of peace, and if peace is then the embodiment of artistic flourishing, what then becomes of peace if the ways we perceive the world that is of a machine? Could the machine be a part of art unto itself? I do not see this as being true because of systemicy. What I mean by systemicy is the spectrum of how physics and meta-physics operate as a machine. This kind of thought follows along the lines of Dues Ex Machina: God is a machine. If God—not a religious entity, but the collective whole of consciousness—this could be, or is, the collaboration, the merging, and assimilation of all ideas, beliefs, and thought. My God(s), your God(s), the atheist ants God(s); it is, as Nietzsche seemed to advocate, the idea of all and none. That if this machine creates art, then, to balance the universe there needs to be war because without one the other does not exist, but does this not fall into a paradox? Aspect of war—appearance of peace? If, as I have been discussing, then there is only a systemic form of thought, or consciousness; was there ever such a thing as creativity then?
What does creativity actually stand for? Does it want to stand for anything? Is it the ability to express oneself, to express ones view of knowledge? Because, if that is to be so, then where has it gone to? To express oneself would require, then, inward self sustaining knowledge; without knowledge it would then be an expression of others thoughts and not the mind in the now. For example, for this project do I really need to bring in some kind of logical analysis of physics or meta-physics to make a claim such as, our consciousnesses’ will never be able to understand what is actually outside of the box? Did I really need to give the examples of fire or the wheel? Could you, or anyone, been able to follow those lines of though and created the examples on your own? Why do we now need to live in an age where everything needs to be based off of factual evidence? When every line of thought is going to be suppressed and brought into question then there is a real suppression of creativity. There was a famous astronomer, who had a great idea, but was smited into oblivion because he was wrong. (Maybe this is why Baldwin believes America is the place to kill the paradox.)
I will post more on this later, but I have a question for those of you who even tried to read this stuff: you don’t have to believe in anything that is not backed up by factual evidence, but would it not serve to fulfill a deeper sensation to play with the ideas rather than abusing them?
P.S.
Happy Four-Twenty 🙂
Strange Crossings
The Death of Creativity
[its late but I am going to post this tomorrow, promise but for now here is some more razors to your eardrums!]
Already on Hiatus
Poems and Running Shoes
I am already needing to put this blog on hiatus. School is just so hectic right now that, I — I don’t even know where to start. I am going to post a poem I wrote the other day after I finished some of my homework:
What Doth the Heavens do Protest!?
When time is stolen from the world,
When the moon doth rob the day of its noon,
Leaving the few with little left to do.
Lone, desolation on this rock,
Similar isolation within the heart;
With bloody hands and feet do shine,
Leaving those to find the divine.
Bloody sand blowing in the wind
At the bottom of the wood planted in
The barren, scorched rocks of earth;
The barren, blotted minds of cruelty,
Pricked in the forehead by judgement of others.
The pacification when two lines meet,
When two stories fall apart,
And leaving the world in catharsis;
With a sense of relief through others pain,
And a sense of disbelief without resign.
Practicing the Guitar
Enlisting in the Music Brigade
I was wondering what I would talk about in this post, and, really, I don’t know what to say except that i got 2 more achievements. A buddy of mine from school, after hearing the little musical tidbit below, was wondering where my vox were for that song; sorry dude, I don’t know how to sing yet.
What I tried to do though was make a short, small clip with me singing; unfortunately, I get stage fright, plus my parents were in the next room and I really did not want to hear me singing (self-conscious too I guess). But at least trying for the “Vocal Violation” achievement I was able to get two other achievements: Music Brigade PFC and CPL. Also, since I played yesterday I know am eligible for other achievements 🙂 I am just loving this stuff right now.
Oh Jodi (Posting a tune just for an “Achievement”)
I Have Music Skillz Too!!
This idea of the “Achievement” process has me pretty excited.
I am not very creative, nor am I a good guitar player, but I do want to give myself another achievement just for kicks. I also wanted to try to see how audio would work on this site.
**WARNING**
Please lower the volume on you computers because this tune is not very, well, flattering, to say the least.
The “Human-Video-Game Achievement” Program
Human Achievement Program
Ever since I was a child I have been playing video games. In recent years, video games have taken a drastic turn. The graphics have become incredibly better some now supporting legitimate 3D capabilities, the sound is realistic, and with online play we now have the ability to play video games with anyone at any time. But within the past couple years the concept of the “Achievement” has shown up.
Anyone who has played any Xbox, Playstation 3, or online games like World of Warcraft should be very familiar with this idea: accomplish a specific task in the game, and then you are rewarded with a global statement say that you completed such-and-such act. This is a great way to keep players interested in your game at long periods of time. A personal example of mine: for the past couple of months I have been playing World of Warcraft. That game has what seems like thousands of different achievements a player can try and accomplish. Some range from the simplest of simple such as “Catch 5 Fish,” but there are some that could take months to complete such as “Killing Deathwing on Heroic Mode” (this was just accomplished on the Borean Tundra serve a few weeks ago). What really makes these accomplishments so interesting is that, say there is a character right next to mine and I have no idea what he has accomplished in the game. He has terrible gear, but he has 90% of the achievements completed where as I only have 10%. That guy plays a whole hell-of-a-lot more then I do, and he does not need to tell me since his achievements say it for him. That person must have spent a very large portion of their life trying to achieve that goal, but for me, I just don’t understand why they would do that over something else, like, say, learning to play the guitar.
As much as I love I see them as being the destruction of the human mind (or soul whatever you want to call it) because we are accomplishing nothing and something at the same time. And with this new achievement system that has been adopted by video games releasing oneself from the grasp of the gaming world is near impossible. I had an idea, why not create an “Achievement System” for the real world. Many of us struggle with trying to improve ourselves through things like running, playing a musical instrument, or just eating right, but sometimes we trip up because we forget why we are doing these things. This project is geared towards those who really were never into sports and do not have trophies or medals hanging from their wall, or those who were geniuses and have diplomas in their office; this project is more for the regular Joe’s just trying to make a change in their lives, so that maybe in the end they can help make positive changes in other people lives.
This blog will be the culmination of ideas for this process. Hopefully we will be able to discover a method that will help people feel rewarded for the effort they make for themselves.
**Over the next couple of weeks I will be trying to devise a system to where people can receive those achievements for bettering themselves.**
The Human-Achievement Program 