Brains!: More Journal Bits

This Blog

My blog could be considered a dangerous thing. I don't think it is. Everything I write is completely honest. Some posts are commentary, some posts are stories, some are boring, some are fun. Most often it's a window into the part of my subconscious that cannot be communicated verbally. It's meant to be the place I spill, organize and store my abstract hidden things. You can really access a lot about me through the blog, and it's partially there for that purpose. To find out the things I cannot say, and don't necessarily need to be said. But its also a tool for me, the process of writing/blogging is therapy in some sense. However, there's a lot missing. To read it, and to think that it is all of me, would be very wrong. That's why it can be misleading. A lot of people read it, and they misinterpret. No one really knows what I actually mean by a lot of the things I say, and that's not my problem. Like I said, its only there partially for the purpose of letting people into that part of me, the rest is there for me, for my subconscious to come out. To take it literally would be a dangerous thing for the reader.

Important Pieces

In that space where infinity above meets immensity below we see the first sign of a new dawn. Dark always gives way to light; for a brief moment nothing is forbidden, everything is possible. But what would we do if the light never came? Maybe we would lie down. Maybe we could go back to sleep. Maybe we could wake up. - Adbusters

The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere; they’re in each other all along. - Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-1273)

Adopt the pace of nature: Her secret is patience. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The poet Rilke was afraid that if he got rid of his demons, he would lose his angels as well. Of course the danger of clinging to our demons to save our angels is that our demons may well take over." - Tim Farrington

Amnesia is not knowing who one is and wanting desperately to find out. Euphoria is not knowing who one is and not caring. Ecstasy is knowing exactly who one is-and still not caring.
- Tom Robbins

If I could live my life viewing a string of scenic vistas, I'd be happy.

It's blossom season, well in the warmth of California it is. I saw the most glorious blossoming tree in Simi yesterday. It was creamy colored, full and fluffy. It almost looked like it was wrapped in ice cream. All the other trees in the suburban shopping car lot weren't as conspicuous, it was like it knew it was the best, and made every attempt to silently draw the eyes of anyone to it's vain head of flowers.

Today was the first day I missed my hair long.

I figured out why I can't be a writer, because I talk about being a writer.

I feel old.

I'm freaked out by how much I enjoyed playing Kully yesterday. Yet at the same time I realize I never really missed playing her either. It was strange, I really had forgotten so much, but just like riding a bicycle a lot about the actual play came back. Things just happened, and my fingers knew where to click or punch and I fell back into it. It's the knowledge of new content, and what places have this and that I don't remember. But my pathetic Moonkin skills are exactly where I left them.

To take and online class, or not to take an online class. I spend 90% of my time online, yet I still think I'd procrastinate, and never really absorb anything.

This Blog

Important Pieces

More Journal Bits

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

0 comments:

Post a Comment

About Me

Search This Blog

Blog Archive

Followers