Friday
This place and that other place.
Trains, museums, class, work...it's all a show. All places to showcase our facets, the pieces of ourselves that we choose to accentuate and hope others notice. Is it an admirable tradition of human nature? Is it pointless? Is it worth-while? Why do we care so much of others opinions and judgments on us? Because we are people, people with minds with the ability to think. Our actions are not always justifiable, thought through, right, wrong or any of these. Sometimes, they just are.
This world of Vitamin Shoppe consisting of a handle of people, it is ours. It's small, not even a noticeable speck on the millions of microcosms that fill our world...but it exists and I am a part of it. I care for it. This little place with these walls and these 4 people, they bring forth parts of me that I never knew existed and so, I cannot fully explain to the world how wonderfully magnificent it is. I can't help but compare it to the Office. That little world of just a handful of people who sell paper, just a minuscule part of the world, they are fully immersed in something. Their lives, once joined, overlap and play incredibly crucial roles in each others lives. It is a wonderful thing that does not require words to be described. It just is.
This world of Vitamin Shoppe consisting of a handle of people, it is ours. It's small, not even a noticeable speck on the millions of microcosms that fill our world...but it exists and I am a part of it. I care for it. This little place with these walls and these 4 people, they bring forth parts of me that I never knew existed and so, I cannot fully explain to the world how wonderfully magnificent it is. I can't help but compare it to the Office. That little world of just a handful of people who sell paper, just a minuscule part of the world, they are fully immersed in something. Their lives, once joined, overlap and play incredibly crucial roles in each others lives. It is a wonderful thing that does not require words to be described. It just is.
The need to write.
It's September. It's a new month. It's a new season, new surroundings, new experiences, new atmosphere, new attire.
Today, on September 6th, it's a chilly morning. Fall, it's close and there is no strong enough power to stop it. Seasons must come, as the next second hand tick will tock. At first, Fall is always nostalgic and sweet to me, but as the colder weather hits without reservation right behind the comfortable atmosphere of Autumn...I am not as content.
I started school about a week ago. I feel a combination of anticipation, worry, excitement and denial of it having approached so quickly. This Summer has been fantastic by anyone's standards so the simple fact of it passing remarkably fast was quite expected.
My bike has become my transportation to work on the weekends to both save money and get some exercise that involves me being outside rather than my kitchen.
I've read some articles discussing writers' need to write in equivalence to sustenance; it's something that comforted me rather than shocked me. That overwhelming feeling of deprivation, of how that moment when the words are thought of in the most perfect of ways and how the thoughts themselves are so clear and paramount that no other thought can POSSIBLE trump its worth and state of existence, right? But of course, as the day I am respectively experiencing wears on, the thoughts diminishes and nothing is left but a vague, apparently unimportant thought that seems silly to begin with...but that's the thing, it IS important, PAST the threshold of important, it's dire and sadly enough, it has passed without any way to remember it in its original shimmer.
Unfortunately, nothing can arouse similar feelings as the ones that saturated the previous ones.
Today, on September 6th, it's a chilly morning. Fall, it's close and there is no strong enough power to stop it. Seasons must come, as the next second hand tick will tock. At first, Fall is always nostalgic and sweet to me, but as the colder weather hits without reservation right behind the comfortable atmosphere of Autumn...I am not as content.
I started school about a week ago. I feel a combination of anticipation, worry, excitement and denial of it having approached so quickly. This Summer has been fantastic by anyone's standards so the simple fact of it passing remarkably fast was quite expected.
My bike has become my transportation to work on the weekends to both save money and get some exercise that involves me being outside rather than my kitchen.
I've read some articles discussing writers' need to write in equivalence to sustenance; it's something that comforted me rather than shocked me. That overwhelming feeling of deprivation, of how that moment when the words are thought of in the most perfect of ways and how the thoughts themselves are so clear and paramount that no other thought can POSSIBLE trump its worth and state of existence, right? But of course, as the day I am respectively experiencing wears on, the thoughts diminishes and nothing is left but a vague, apparently unimportant thought that seems silly to begin with...but that's the thing, it IS important, PAST the threshold of important, it's dire and sadly enough, it has passed without any way to remember it in its original shimmer.
Unfortunately, nothing can arouse similar feelings as the ones that saturated the previous ones.
Reality.
The following is some commentary I wrote in response to an innovative psychology book. I wrote this in April of 2011 I believe.
Reading a book called Reality Therapy. It's based on a new approach to therapy, whether it be voluntary or involuntary. It's honestly brilliant.. I hate admitting that I find myself in one particular case-study discussed.. but not to the same self-destructive degree as he is described.
This boy resents his mother because she spends all her time with her boyfriend and not where she should, with her young troubled son. He becomes destructive, rebellious, verbally abusive to all around him and generally quite sensitive. He lacks the ability to process and execute a response to any kind of frustration. He cannot find friends or companions because no one seeks him out because of his destructive and frankly, horrific ways so in response, he gives the impression of not having a desire to even have a friend from the beginning. The, "I don't want friends anyway, so fuck all of you" attitude. He refuses to discuss anything concrete or in relation to his situation.
The most noticeable and perhaps, the most self destructive issue
Reading a book called Reality Therapy. It's based on a new approach to therapy, whether it be voluntary or involuntary. It's honestly brilliant.. I hate admitting that I find myself in one particular case-study discussed.. but not to the same self-destructive degree as he is described.
This boy resents his mother because she spends all her time with her boyfriend and not where she should, with her young troubled son. He becomes destructive, rebellious, verbally abusive to all around him and generally quite sensitive. He lacks the ability to process and execute a response to any kind of frustration. He cannot find friends or companions because no one seeks him out because of his destructive and frankly, horrific ways so in response, he gives the impression of not having a desire to even have a friend from the beginning. The, "I don't want friends anyway, so fuck all of you" attitude. He refuses to discuss anything concrete or in relation to his situation.
The most noticeable and perhaps, the most self destructive issue
Revelation.
There are no rules to when you can do things, no one is controlling your actions but yourself, no one is creating your intentions but yourself, no one is telling you what to think but yourself. If you choose to believe and do what the ones around you are....then you've lost yourself, and you fall into the majority of people who aren't even people anymore, they're all drones, repeats, copies, clones, boring and useless. Wherever your ideas are rooted, make sure that they are your own without any skew from the external world.
Atlas.
The power had gone, and the shape it left had not been able to stand without it.
-Atlas Shrugged
-Atlas Shrugged
Sunday
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