Monday, 25th December 2006

Living. Witnessing. Experiencing. Observing. Understanding. Thinking.

Hmm. Subsequential of the age of 18. What are the huge impacts Living at home has on a person? I think living at home is a comfort, it's a man-made safe haven. Some constantly rely on it's advantages, some run from it's disadvantages. Some run from it's advantages, while others are forced to withstand it's disadvanages. Everyone Experiencing, and everyone's experience is completely different.

I think living at home, you're somewhat forced to be passively dependant. As an individual, moving out of home, aren't you both forced and in-choice of being actively dependant?

Witnessing a friend teach foreign languages to students in other countries. Observing how she is living, how they are learning.

I could enter here a little judgemental hypothesis, correlating the personality and the lives of the wealthy progressors and how many advantages they were opportune to, in comparison to the lives of the (and here comes the controversial antonym) poor, or needy, for lack of a better word, and how many disadvantages they were subject to or advantages they were deprived of. However, as you may know of me, to linger on a topic, or act, of this sort a second longer would be embellishing an insult to my single most valued tool.

Understanding. This is the life of the most valued tool. It's the slow or gushing water which fills our rivers, out thoughts. Thinking. Thoughts, the abstract or spiritual gold in my life. Understanding, a concept, a thought, someone elses thought, a life, anything which you enjoy filling your rivers up with, is the solid root (and a trunk maybe?) standing under your piece of knowledge. It's what gives it and a person, it's depth, it's height. The higher the tree, the more branches, more tangents of thought. Different breeds of trees are subject to growing more branches, more fruit, fuller greens. Others less so, and of darker shades and colours.

I wonder, how appropriate teaching someone a definition using the method above would be? It's no dictionary. Much more qualitative. I didn't start even start the blog with it in mind. You see, it's christmas day, I was exhausted, neutronpaenic, lying in bed. Thinking. Like gas to a bunsen burner, thoughts started flooding in. I wanted to burn someone!!

The smaller percentage of my thoughts were about writing. But a huge portion of my experiences with writing, was admiring the work of others: Reading. There's also film and music to consider aswell, who actually both play a larger part in the game. Writing, is evidence of that elusive gold I mentioned earlier. It could be a published story, there for anyone who wants, or more likely, to be fallen across. It could be an undisclosed, unfrequented diary, ownership of the deceased, never to be read. I love the raw, inspired feelings I can reap from writing an amateur piece of work.

The larger percentage of my thoughts were concerning the short story I wrote in the last entry. It was only because of a little bunny that I opened my eyes to this today and sadly, I shant linger on the piece for long. In it's stead, I will retire to my bed again due to my state of infirmity and wait for a later date where my thoughts on this piece will be spelled out. Certainly before I present a re-draft.

My reader knows better than I, that this is a short dream. I was concious before I even started it, that it was going to be an extremely small start. A closed mind of this sort has several effects on me. The imagery is intense. It's a small beaker or water overflowing with imagery. Too intense. It was a complete first draft attempt yet, looking back, it's quite unnatural with self-conciousness and extreme emphasis. Also, it's not directionless, purposeless, but unless my reader is a certain person, I don't think it can be understood that well. Regardless to these criticisms, and many more, I enjoy what it is and where it potentially, could be going. Maybe I'll re-write it considering a few more thoughts and meanings and taking a lot more time over it, not as to disguise it's spontaneity though.

On a health realted point, I'm doing well. I think im understanding and coming to terms with living my life with this burden, or addition. I still feel rather overwhelmed by it's impact on my world, but depending and the company and thoughts of my parents, brothers, relatives and valued buddies, has made it much more bareable. I'm shivering a little, at times; sweating, a little, at night; I can't taste much, but the turkey was devoured; my nerve endings in my fingers tingle a bit; the drugs dull the spots, but they are still a constant annoyance and my head does feel like it has a piano on it at times, it's tiring, but i'm fighting and in relatively good health otherwise.

I'd love to ramble a bit more, another time maybe. For now, goodnight, dreamsworth.

Simon