Questioning.

Today, like everyday, I wonder in awe how is it that I came to be in this body. How did I come to have the experiences, the feelings, the ideas that I'm having all leading up to this very moment? The question leaves me dumbfounded almost every second of everyday; so much so, that it's hard to divert my attention to anything else. Like school for instance. Sure, I can crack open my Leadership Management textbook, right after I figure out how I'm even existing right now! But I guess the mystery is part of the beauty. I suppose we're all just meant to keep on trucking, otherwise no one would accomplish anything. We'd all be staring at our hands, simply wondering how we came to be.

But the heart of my confusion lies within the age old debate of whether we have free will or not. Personally, I believe that we were born into our bodies, and certain things are meant to happen in order for us to learn from them. But I also want to believe we have full control over the route our lives take. So maybe it's half and half. However, how can that be possible if your life is suppose to strategically lead up to certain events without controlling your entire life? How does everything fall into place rightly so? This ambiguity always leaves me in between when I'm facing problems in my everyday life. Is this suppose to be happening to me, or am I simply letting this happen to me? For now, I suppose I'll continue to stare at my hands, pondering if these lines parallel my past, present, and future or if it was me, in this body, calling the shots the whole time.

So it's come to this. A cheesy clip show.

Everything goes without saying, lately. Somehow, words don't do any justice to...anything. These feelings, visuals, whathaveyou, are so abstract, how does one even begin to describe them? Our makeshift languages, forms of expression, have been doing alright for the most part, but it's missing the rest of the iceberg. It's beautiful and chilling at the same time. That we are finally able to communicate with another. That we are no longer cavemen, grunting in speech, wishing to utter a sound that someone will understand. But then again, they're just words. And we're missing that fact that these words are meant to describe a feeling. Something which is immeasurable, and subjective. It's lost in the human language. Collectivity seems to do that. Force objectivity. And then the expression of human experience is diluted. Turned into a percent, or a rating scale varying in strongly disagree to strongly agree.

Do we create these standards to unify us? But what about those of us who feel like they simply do not belong? Are we weeded out? Or do we have much more to understand? Are we the ones missing the big picture? Or do we have something special?

Goodnight.

Motivation.

Alex: Give me a hug. And tell me something inspirational.

Natasha: I believe in you. You can do this. Don't poop your pants.

If it disturbs you, it's art.

I had an idea for a performance art piece:

Just me. Staring lifeless into a camera. Chewing gum.

For three years.

What would be your performance art piece?

I was awake in the loneliest place.

I saw you look back. Move forward. Look back. Move forward.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
And if all was anything, it be the two motion cinema that loops my mind.
In black and white, like many classics.
In shock and sadness, like many tragedies.
There you were. In between.
All but missing a red dress, a cigarette, and a movie screen.
Expired light. Eight minutes ago.
She shimmers down in waves to remind me so.
And my chest began to heave and pull.
So my cage could not keep in tune.
I tug at the madness. The motionless mistress.
And she says to me, "Before you know it."
As abrupt as departures go, I would say that I agree with her.