REPORT A PROBLEM
A new month commences! So jump over those fences! Go grab your goals and dentures! Lets go on some adventures! Lets roam across the hilltops! Lets stroll across the car parks! And we don't mind the darkness! Because we shine like neon crayons! And I'm just saying... we can make this world great again.
We can make it great even without saying it.
We can make it great even without being him.
We can make it great only by believing in: ourselves.
If it's really WE who make it great... and no one else.
I can make it great myself.
The second. In a second, it flashed by. I second this. I third this. I fourth this. I fifth this. It is this. I sixth this. I seven this. I eight this. I ninth this. So many times bliss. Is hard to find miss. Miss once, and you'll never get that chance again, so you'd better go all about, before you fall, doubt, and life just runs away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and away, and again...
I've been bidding a bit on auctions lately, but not going too far with them as I used to back in the day. If they go past my price range I leave them be, and don't follow them all the way till the deadline if it happens early on. Some things are a bit of an obsession though; some things I'm not even that interested in, like GBA games. I'll be skimming a few of those today too, soon, when deadline nears. It's the best time to bid if you don't want to pay too much. Auctions, here I come.
I wonder how our Earth will end. I wonder if it'll be our doing, or the planet's or some divine entity that decides to flush us all away, because if ever there was a good time for it, it seems to be now. Of course, if it does come down to a natural disaster... and some of us do happen to survive, the believers will claim it was a divine entity anyway. But maybe nature is a divine entity. Mother Earth. She seems worthy of our praise more than that other, egoistical one, that only wants worship. Just a wonder.
How wondrous is not this world, in which we are free to wander, and wonder, and do our bidding... until we've paved over all our freedoms with concrete, and are free to wander, and wonder, and view the yonder of this wondrous Earth no more?
I'll admit, I feed the cycle. I pay taxes. I contribute to the system: this giant machine that slowly flattens the Earth - but at least I'm not the one steering it, and I'm not sure that even if I stand before it and tell it to stop, that it'll listen, or just run me over.
Fears. So unnecessary. And such a vicious cycle. If you get started with them they won't let you go, and the further you go the further it goes, until you don't know where you're going anymore. The fear lures you in, and takes over, and there you go again. And there you go again. And again. And here I go with that filler again. If I refind my purpose of writing, maybe I'll refind my definition. Refine my intuiting. Redefine my ambition. Resign? Nah, never, not in a million. Years. I'm here to make wonders. Crafts? Just some of that.
I missed so many days of writing here recently.
I'm not sure what I've been doing during all this time. I lost my way again, I assume. I don't remember that I've accomplished anything particular, but time passes fast sometimes, when you struggle with purpose, and projects, and jump off one to start on another... before you know it you're procrastinating. Again. And again. And again and again and soon you're just filling in words to fill the gap. Filler. How real is that? It's the killer of creative effort. Of purpose. Of that path I wish to take. Craft.
I look out the window too little.
Like right now. I'm sitting by the computer, and I'm staring at the screen like I have been for a few hours. I ate lunch by the screen. I ate breakfast by the screen. I took a walk, and hesitantly cast a glance at the real world, but now I'm back in my safety zone again, venting to the world through a medium in which I initially didn't plan to say anything personal, but how can you be an artist if you don't. Rhetorical question. It's only by revealing yourself you know yourself.
It's hard to stay creative sometimes. And harder when you say it's hard to do so. It gets harder when you feel it is, like self-affirmation, so when you hit a writer's block and stop writing because of it you won't get back your writing abilities, you'll just get worse and worse. Same thing if you keep going anyway, and force yourself to write. Creativity thrives in forceful situations, but not when you don't need to force yourself... only when you're so low it's the only outlet. When it's your motivation. When it's your purpose and being. Creativity is.
I look out the window a little.
I contemplate my existence. It seems those contemplations come in phases, and when I do I spit out small bits of wisdom in a way that makes it seem like I know what I'm saying. I tell it like it is, because that is what I believe at the moment I write it. That is how I contemplate, and why I contemplate: to grow wise. But it doesn't put food on my place (with emphasis on 'on' - so it rhymes). To put food on my plate I need to rely on the world.
I don't really trust in anyone. Not in you, not in me; not in the world around me. What about my family? Or my friends? How much trust do I really place in them? I trust they care, but I don't trust in their actions. I trust in my intentions, but I don't trust in the results. I trust in what I see, but I don't trust in what people tell me. I trust... that if I just keep going long enough maybe I'll gain some more of it. Maybe I'll learn what it means to rely on the world.
Work canceled again today. Sigh. Seems to happen every time I'm really looking forward to it, though there's not much to do but move on; do other things. Today I was really hyped up about the salad. My lunch, I mean. The pinnacle of the event. The grand thing. The thing I've been looking forward to since last week... but seems I'll just have to take that some other day. Salads shouldn't be such an overly desirable thing either, should they? I mean you can throw together a good salad at home too. Maybe I will. Today. Just because. Salad.
The thirteenth... but at least it's not a Friday!
I don't know why superstitions stick so easily, but I suppose it's a habit just like anything else - like how in one language you start week days with a uppercase letter, and in the other lowercase. I was about to write capital letter, but it sounded wrong for some reason... it's small details like that, that make it clear I'm not really on par with native English speakers any longer. Too much time spent with Swedish, so that even the weekdays aren't clear anymore. Uppercase? Lowercase? Sometimes I choose wrong. Sometimes.
Oh man, I couldn't sleep yesterday at all. I think I fell asleep shortly after four, though at the time it felt like I wasn't sleepy at all, and I was starting to wonder how it'd all work out... happy it did work out though. I fell asleep, and I woke up surprised this morning, before 11, with just about 6 hours of sleep and still not as sleepy as I'd imagine... which is good considering today is a special day. My dad's birthday. I'm a bit blurry eyed still, but time to get the celebrations going! Sleep or no.
Time is running out,
It's running, it's running... I've said that, it grows old.
I've said that it grows old, but time is running out!
So what will I say now? I don't know.
Time is running doubt, doubt is running all the time!
I don't know if it's yours, if it's theirs, if it's mine.
I don't know who I am, but I'm still in my prime... right?
Still time to make that limelight and get out of this slime,
And every time I write something like this I feel I did wrong,
Cause it could be a song.
The road to self-betterment is long and winding. It goes in waves from day to do, one day you lose your footing and slide down a hill, and the next you've climbed up again, and past the point you were at before. Then a few days later you slide even further down, and dismotivated by the slide you stay at the bottom a while, and wallow in shame, and then a ray of light reaches down into your abyss and lights your fire again, and you just run that mountain like you're a God! A Bulldozer God. The Rover.
We got it!
We've got the world. We've got our humanity. We've got ourselves. We've got a lot of things to be proud of. We've got feelings. We've got emotions. We've got movement. We go through the motions. We've got closers´, but we got open. We're getting kosher, we're going sober. We had a little but we made the most of it, and you can't change the world if you don't do something... different.
We've got the potential to change - to make the same things bent up and strange, to take it all to the next level and range! We've...
...got all of this potential you aint! We've got the world in our hand and our thumb! We're going from the old, the antic and dumb, to making the future so rancid and glum... but why? Why not change the way we're making this sandwich and bun?
Why not swap out some ingredients - I believe that is what makes the whole stew, and what we'll leave behind us, a vague smell to remind us that we we're both search and finders, and we ate our perch at diner's, the world's finest... we've got it. We've got the potential to improve.
I guess this is becoming like a diary.
Maybe in time I can go back, read this, and see if I've became a better person, because of course that's the goal.
But if I ever do say I'm better, wouldn't that mean I've only become arrogant? At the same time, when I question my future confidence, I can't help thinking I'd probably be better than most who say they are better if I did, but would that be because I'm not sure I am, or because I'm an even bigger hypocrite?
Maybe in time I'll find better logic. I better.
I'm truly paranoid. I'm dually booted. I grew up big and drew up lids and threw in confusion. You don't know... what I've been through with kid but if you feel the flow then do your bid and rhyme this as you read it like a lunatic. I'm through with my bids... I've done my shopping. But I'm not settling down till I'm gone like I'm underground I'm hip hopping. I'm a beast in sheep's clothes, if you've been asleep you better peep folks, I'm grooving to these tunes as if I eat those. But wait here comes the close...
0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 b i n a r y 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 0 1 m i n d 0 i t 1 r e a d s 0 1 0 1 0 1
I'm catching up on lost days. I think I did the same thing last weekend, and then the new week came and my time flew away... and now I'm here to reclaim it.
It insane it, the way I live my life so complicated. Still don't know where I'm going but I'm mowing through the mainstream. I don't want to be like you, or live now, I'm late it, the game but, I feel like I'm still living in the eighties.
Even though it was all before my time, I wish I was Sublime. I wish for sun shine. I...
Wish for many things.
But if you don't do things, then those things will never come to be. I want to plow through this life until I run with ease. I want to feel the breeze. I want to see the sun, and be free, and wonder, and learn, and grow better until not even the breeze can beat me.
I want to be me see. I want to write great. But so many are the times in which just I await better days... lesser grays. I dress for shade. But I know the better days are on the way!
I'm listening to Ghettoville as I write this. Heavy music. Instrumental - so I can listen at the same time as I type without distraction. At least not much. Takes some getting used to though. It's my first time running the album and I'm trying to take note of the beat as I write as I do. It's heavy. Grotesque - in the old old sense. Senseful. Atmospheric. Like I'm stepping through city burbs, my feet sliding across the cold concrete. Brink of a new day. Gray clouds. City music. A serenade of violence, and silence, and thunder crackling afar. Heavy. Real.
Me and a buddy went to a flea market today, the biggest of the year supposedly. At least that was the plan - but apparently it was the 25th of MARCH. Wrong day. We checked the site and found out the flea market was in Gustavsberg, so we checked the route and half an hour later we were there, wandering around looking for the place. It was closed. Checked the site again. The notice was from 2013. So we ate some chips, bought luxurious apple juice from a local farm, and took the bus back. It wasn't so bad after all.
Another day in the new world!
It keeps changing. I look back at acronyms I learned way back, and they're something totally different now. FTW went from underground, to online, to parody on the WTF paradigm. ROFLMAO's become incredulously rare, and I seem to be the only one not claiming to have a fact, just a HO of M, I.. IMHO, I mean.
Never really caught on to why rapping abbreviations is esteemed as such a clever thing. It can be catchy, but more often it's just hard to catch - but maybe that's the reason. Everybody wants to seem smarter.
Long day today... but a good day. I've accomplished stuff. I've been at work, and bowling. I bought some juice. I had a good dinner. I took a walk. I just finished a couple of blogs that I'd usually have left till a later date, and there's at least a couple hours of the day left that I reckon I'll spend to the best of my abilities - with a late night snack and maybe some games. Or polishing up those posts till perfection until I post them. Odd how easy it is to write a hundred words in one take. But a thousand? It'll take a few.
Last day of the month, again! Fat Tuesday, this time. Time for semlor and savorable delicacies. Well, nothing more than semlor, but that's delicate enough right?
We tried a gluten-free alternative this year, with oats instead of wheat, and it turned out dry, compact and salty. Not at all as soft and sweet as I'm used to, alas, but with the right amount of cream and filling... not bad. I think I can get used to this. I can get used to anything. :)
Happy Fat Tuesday End Of The Month Yall. In a few hours... it's time to march.
The Tip Jar