Tuesday, October 9, 2012


     The fears that I have are my greatest motivator.  It's simple, really.  I am afraid I am going to die alone, stuck in the house I was born in.  I am afraid that my growth as person will be limited to the world seen through a 17" glowing screen.  I'm terrified my stories of glory will be about the epic raids on a digital world.  And the idea of living vicariously through the written words of dead men is an idea that wakes me up in the middle of the night.
    So I convince myself life is boring and it needs excitement.  So instead of finding something that gives me stability, I find some way to change myself.  I learn math, french, and science.  I drink because I feel that a life of meditation and purity is a wasted existence.  Why?  Because how can I reflect on life if I haven't lived life and tried everything?
     On the other hand, I spend a bit of time meditating.  Meditating only allows reflection.  Problems are put under new light, where answers can be seen.  But new questions and problems surface.  TV, and comedy, makes the problems disappear temporarily.  What I'm saying is I spend more time watching TV than meditating.  Escape is just more important than reflection.
     I don't know what the point of this is.  All I'm doing is whispering my fears into the void.  And I'm not even doing that very well.  So what is fear?  What should we have to fear?
     Heights is exhilarating.  Death is a finale, a note that is worth going out on to see what lies beyond.  Fear is what keeps us at night.  Fear of a death, not of death, is what scares me.  A death without meaning.  A death where nothing gets done, and it's an empty death where you choke on your own tongue, alone.  And that is the death of your physical self.  The hope is to leave behind something worth remembering, a person that people can talk about.  Otherwise, the memory of you will fade, and you will die again.  This time forever, because no one even knows you existed.
     These are fears that can keep me awake.  Not clowns.  Not crowds.  Just the idea that I will never, ever get to experience it all.  Life is too damn short, and there is  not enough time.  How can one person live the life of stability, while constantly jumping from one adventure to the next?  Where does love fit in a life of travel?  How the fuck can people just stop?
     As you lie in your bed tonight, listen to John Cage's 4'33".  Really listen to it, and let it take you places.  You will hear sounds, different sounds, even beautiful sounds and your mind begin a small spin.  Think about motivation, and fear.  Think about love, maybe.  Think about life.  How the stark, dark contrasts of those miserable moments can create a world that appeals to the senses when combined with bright memories of the past.  And sit and enjoy the silence.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

My Second IWSG.

     Today I'm weaving a security blanket of words to help with my insecurities!  That's right, it's time for Aristotle's seceond insecure writers support group.
     The first thing I'll write about is this quote by English logician and philosopher, Bertrand Russell - "Aristotle could have avoided the mistake of thinking that women have fewer teeth than men, by the simple device of asking Mrs. Aristotle to keep her mouth open while he counted."  There.  That's Aristotle's Mistake.  Just saved you the trouble of looking it up.
     Writing has gotten harder recently.  I keep saying it's due to a change in schedule, but there is always time.  I'm not less interested in it, or in learning and and reading.  It's just recently it's gotten harder to start the writing and see it through to the end.
     Part of it does seem to be due to changes.  I'm not working outside anymore, therefore I keep myself in.  I stopped drinking coffee for a few days because I've been drinking more.  Routines that kept me in check have begun to break down.  Why have they begun to break down?  Again, I feel like it's because of change.
     Writer's block affects me more.  Instead of being forced to deal with an idea that just keeps getting played over and over again in my head until I get up to walk it off, I find myself sitting here staring at the screen.  When I'm writing about insecurities, I can type.  The problem is that my thoughts only go as far as the current word.  This is a method that works well for writing about emotions, but it doesn't work as much for times when I want to write about stuff like physics.  I keep drifting off from my work.
     I dropped the routine  because I had to many distractions.  Before the change in job and change in location, I had a place to sit, drink coffee, and work with no distractions.  So the first step in picking a new routine is not to pick a new day, but instead to find a new place to work undistracted for a few hours.  Library might win the competition.
     The fact is, the routines help tremendously.  By simply planning things out in advance, it allows me time to think and work on other things.
     This is a strange post.  It's really me sitting here and working out my problems.  Hello to all of those visiting from Alex's blog.  You've been wonderful and I hope to see you again next month.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Just another post

     I've been wanting to try my hand at writing a romantic story for a couple of weeks now.  The time isn't right at the moment, mostly because my writing style doesn't allow for a love story of the traditional kind at the moment.  I'm long-winded, self-centred, and have a slight obsession with math.  Not so sure if that's a spark for romance.
     Instead of actually writing the damn thing, I mostly just roll ideas around in my head.  They're all based on memories and people I knew and the immortal beings they've become.  Sometimes, I think the story should be based on the more innocent moments, like the story of the two young people smoking cigarettes in a tree.  That story is hard to write, because in reality it was a bright light before what turned out to be a pretty dark winter.
     So then my thoughts turn away from each and every memory that thought brings.  Instead, I think about writing a story about two people who keep finding themselves together time after time.  I see old friends who go through this, and have been going through it since high school.  Hell, it seems like I have a couple old flames that I would like to see turn into a bonfire.  The story has been told many times, and each time it can capture our hearts.  Maybe because it's familiar to us.  Maybe because we hope to see that stuff work.  Or maybe it's just a lie told to comfort us young-uns.  You know, those of us who are starting to develop cynicism in small doses while still trying to hold on to our optimism.
     I've always been fascinated with time.  In one of the earliest versions of this story  I played around with the idea of a super hero who learn to bend and manipulate time based on the strength he gets from a woman.  This was years ago I played with idea, but the character keeps coming back.  You see, they meet while he lived in the mountains.  And the power he felt from her drew him to her.  He uses this power to preform herculean tasks,  and he only grew stronger when she was around.  For a brief time, the two of them separate, and he becomes weaker, and weaker.  Finally, they meet again and he is able to use the last of his strength to push away the demon that was plaguing her.  I scraped it.  Quite honestly, didn't sound that great.
     Do you have to be in love to write a love song?  If you do, then every musician, poet, and author ever has been in love multiple times.  Love has lost its value.  If it's something that be found at the drop of a hat, then what is it worth?  Seeing how a vaguely worded, super clichéd summer jam can make millionaires out of a lot of people, apparently the idea alone is worth more than I can imagine.
     The memories comfort me though, no matter how cynical I get.  Maybe I can add to this genre with ideas that roll and gather no moss.  Meh.  The ideas kinda fizzle, and none of them accumulate into anything interesting any-ways.
     That's it for todays thought spoken into the void by the late night insomniac.  I hope your dreams keep you happy.