Just A Thougt Of Mine

The power that we gain from the genuine love of others gives us the ability to do insurmountable things, to go beyond our fears, to look past the confinements of man and to venture into the "unknown", knowing that we have stopped talking and started doing. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
This so-called "playing it safe" will, more often than not, be more of a loss and a never ending tale of "I could have" and "I should have" to any single person than if they gave their all to do what they truly love in life and take a few "hits" in the process. It's called learning. We can't learn if we're never given the opportunity to explore...including giving ourselves permission to do so. If we can cultivate and apply this concept, we will be a much happier, much healthier people than ever before. We will be able to walk with strength that none of our predecessors have been fortunate enough to know. We decide where we go in life and we decide where life goes with us.

Why Is A Raven Like A Writing Desk?

It is my experience and observation that most, if not all geniuses are slightly or altogether mad. Never before have I thought to put myself even close to the genius category...but have generally given myself top ranking in the madness category. Yet, somehow...I find myself getting closer and closer with each passing day, to the coalescing of the aforementioned. Not sure how to look upon the entirety of my perplexing (and a tad exiting) situation. Now, why do I perceive genius and madness to basically be one in the same? I'll tell you, once Myself and I decide to let Me think for Myself a little while. *ahem* If you have learned anything at all in your art and history classes alike, you will have walked away with the knowledge that people like Albert Enstein and Vincent Van Gogh were absolutely genius in their creations and entirely fried as well. My question for thought is this - why does it take such tragic extremes to bring about some of the most magnificent creations?

It's Always Sunrise Somewhere

Worn from another sleepless night, body aching, head pounding like a thousand jackhammers in a studio apartment, and eyes feeling as though they were dipped in acid; I see the dimmed light behind the front-room drapery. I reach. My drained senses jolt as the sunrise pours into the room with every fatigued pull of the drape strings. Sight. It is a glorious morning.

The Apple and The Tree

What happens when the apple falls from the tree? Albeit, the landing spot may not be very far away, the apple still one day will grow into it's own tree. It can either take root the same way as it's predecessor, or it can take root and branch out in an entirely new fashion. No matter how you look at it, the apple that fell will still grow to be an apple tree like unto that from which it fell; there will be no sudden turning into a peach or pear tree, no matter what kind of nurturing it gets from the earth or any other outside force. BUT, the apple has a chance to roll with the bumps in the ground and decide how it's going to improve the way it will grow and how it can improve upon the fruit that it will soon bear.

Something I only just began to realise in full is how I truly feel sad for my Dad. He has spent 82 years of his life in fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of outside wrong-doers, even fear of the good things - seeing even the smallest possibility of what could be bad in something entirely good - all due to circumstantial programming since the time of his childhood. He has carried this complex with him and force-fed it to everyone who has entered into his life. There are times when it will come out in discussion or in certain actions of his when it's very easy to see that he is still heavily weighted down by his past. Things he could not control and things he did not do were somehow etched into his memory board with the words "This bad thing happened because of YOU." At that point, I can see how one might take the inadvertent insult to existence to heart and therefore produce a sour harvest or two.
It amazes me (for lack of a more poignant word) that for all my distress and complex issues I've carried through my life thus far, I have managed to get most of them under control...whereas the things that he has had to cope with, or should have coped with, are still as strong at the surface now as when they first traumatized his being. It makes me wonder if maybe there's something that can be done even now, to help him come to terms with things while he's still cognizant. What has made him hold on to these feelings so long? Will I be the same at his age? Will I learn to let go completely or will I still hold on to the things of the past? The interesting thing is that though we've had to try to hold our ground and branch out despite the storms, it is the storms that help us grow, they are what strengthen us. Beneath the hard exterior is the intricately developed interior. It is our choice as to whether or not we welcome the storm and learn how to use what it brings to us.

Insider Sales

Have you ever had someone sell something to you?

Have you ever had to sell something to yourself? For instance, you see a pair of shoes in the window of a shop at the mall, and you know you don't actually NEED that particular pair of shoes but every part of your brain is searching for a reason as to why you should buy them -- "These shoes would make my butt look great." "These shoes would really be cute for summer." "These shoes would really bring out my eyes." (Pft, yeah right!) -- and the list goes on and on. Well let me pose this question and leave it up for individual interpretation...How good of a salesperson are you? Can you make a sale to yourself just as easily as you can to the public, and vise verse? Are you the honest salesmen that holds integrity to your pitch? Or are you a swindler?

...How good of a saleswoman am I?
I find that I've had to sell myself on so many things that I'm making myself nearly destitute. I've declared internal bankruptcy several times...and yet, I don't know how to stop selling and buying. It's an addiction. A cruel, undeniable addiction. The satisfaction of finding something that will make my life that much better than it was before is very short-lived. When do I reach that point where I no longer have to be sold on anything...I'll tell you...when I run out of reasons to convince myself of things I already know I do or do not need. Now, one thing that I may have sold YOU, the reader on, is that this blog is just a means of incoherent whining and running of the mouth as it were. But that is where you have misinterpreted things; this blog honestly does not have a whole lot to do with how I'm feeling at the time that I write any of the postings within. Much of the time when I write, it is purely thought. Not so much the exact emotion being conveyed within that thought. So though I may have a few depressed sounding entries, they're truly just ramblings of things that have entered my psyche and for some reason needed to be written down. I'm not a person of wisdom or sage advice, but something in me is saying "buy this" "sell that" whether to myself or someone else.

Masquerade

As is human nature, we tend to go around wearing masks all the time. When do we take them off? I paint mine on every morning and take it off before bedtime, if I'm not too tired. But do we often leave our masks on for days and nights at a time? Do we then put another mask on top of the old one? Mask upon mask? What is it like when you put your mask on? What is it like when you take it off? As for myself, I'm always very relieved to take mine off. But soon after, I start to get uncomfortable. Like I'm more transparent, like I'm not as pretty without my mask. But that's only what the world will tell you. The important people tell you the truth, which says otherwise. So why don't we listen to the truth? What's so hard about taking your mask off and simply not putting it back on or throwing it away period? Is it a thing of pride, a thing of deception, or simply a thing of comfort? My mask is full of endless color; I don't like wearing it for too long, especially when the colors turn drab. It's hard for me to be without it sometimes. What kind of mask do you wear?

Day's Eye

Anyone that really knows me, knows that the Daisy is my favorite flower. There is just something about them that makes me smile and gives me a feeling of contentment. I've always thought that they must have interesting lives. They seem so enchanting, so full of mystery that nobody would really think about because of how simple and maybe even plain they come across. I once read somewhere that there are over twenty-thousand types of daisies in the world. Interestingly enough, not only are there so many types within the genus, but some of them are in our gardens and are main components to the salads we eat, some are "weeds" in our yards, and others are beautiful sights for us to behold during a relaxing stroll through the park. The name of the daisy flower comes from the medieval english 'daies ie', meaning day's eye because the flower opens up at sunrise and closes at sunset; hence it is the eye of the day. According to an old Celtic legend, the spirits of children who died in childbirth scattered daisies on the earth to cheer their sorrowing parents. What do you think a single daisy could tell you from just one day of life? I would imagine that it would have quite the story to tell if given the chance. Maybe we should pay more attention to these auspicious forms of life.

Random

It's like sometimes I become so enclosed, like I'm verbally and expressively constipated. And then eventually out of nowhere there's this explosion of phonetic diarrhea. Pardon, but that's pretty much the best way for me to describe it right now. I see so much power, so much success being held inside of me and I just don't know how to let it out. I think it's because I look at everyone else on the planet and think "Now that is talent. That is what the world needs. I could never provide that." So I move on with my life yet again, just watching from the sidelines, wishing all the while that I were out on the field being cheered for and adored. Where's MY niche? Do I even have one? Can I just make my own?

My life is one fabulous gift of wonder and awe, waiting to be snatched up and taken advantage of. But I haven't reached the clearing where I can see what it is exactly that I'm reaching for. How can one snatch up something they can't see? Pretty soon you just start snatching up everything in reach, hoping and praying that it's what you're supposed to find. And eventually you just have to stop, take a step back, and just let life be for a while.

Long Time, No Expression

To start things off, I'm going to say that in all honesty I am lacking the whereabouts of a huge part of myself. So here I am, back to say "Hey there! Long time, no Expression...!" which is a slight variation of a well known, overused phrase...but that's okay. I'm really just saying these things to myself. I don't expect for any of you, whomever 'you' may be...to benefit from my writings. It's more of a therapy session for myself. I think this is one of the most straight forward, non writing voice entries I will have submitted yet. Sometimes one just needs to be Frank. Even if your name is Bill or Joe or Marvin. Or Bethany.
My eyes are tired. My soul is heavy with feelings of sadness, fear, remorse, anxiety, and a sort of blase` yet melancholy feeling. My body is weary. Sleep is of no use to me until I am able to get to the root of what is causing all this.
It's time to buckle down, saddle up and ride hard.
Here we go again...