Eyes parted three ways

It be strange to see the world from an entirely different perspective. Your entire life you've been seeing everything through the same eyes, speaking with the same voice, observing with the same intuition. To think that it'd be possible to truly live through some one else, in every way is astonishing. You wouldn't have to wonder anymore what people truly thought of you, or at least not one person. Is your character ambiguous and confusing, or is there a constant thought that embodies your person? Who would know, because our minds are threaded with constantly changing thoughts and emotions. One moment you could be one thing to some one, and through traumatic thought or event you could become something completely different. Beauty to beast, enigma to incredibly real.

If there is a stigma attached to you, you'd be able to plot it out. The words that are subconsciously connected with just having your name spoken.

did you ever really know before, my mind, scared to think?

It's not really something you niggle upon to the endless hours of the night, not if you're perfectly sane. It's merely a passing thought for a lot of us. Though even the narcissist ponders for hours on outward appearance, he thinks not for a second upon the painted thoughts of others. There's no reason in thinking constantly what your words mean to others, if they are spoken they cannot be completely unsaid. Freudian slips are there for a reason, and apology for such a phrase would be lying against your own character.

To put it simply, if you go back on words you've once said, you're damaging the beliefs you held strongly enough to berth to their emotion.

There's probably a world out there, somewhere buried in the echelons of our dreams, where we can all see in the colors of everyone's psyche, creating a canvas from the morals they truly carry, however this is reality, this is today. Realistically speaking, there's no way of knowing anyone's true intentions, and there's no real way of knowing if your own intentions are true.

Intuition is a lie because we don't have the capacity to see all the information upon speaking. Our tools are not adequate and our voices not nearly just. Immanuel Kant spoke of the Ding an Sich (which translates to thing-in-itself) which is the absolute entity of an object, observed to it's full capacity. A capacity that we do not have. Until we may actually be able to see a thought, realize a dream, as it's ding an sich, intuition will simply be a lie.

Not in a cruel sense, we're not all unfaithful liars, or pathological cheats. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault.

It truly will never be your fault, because not even you are you-in-yourself.

Inspiration

"Inspiration on demand, emotions all displaced" - Inspiration on Demand, Shadows Fall

Money has suddenly become an issue in my life, or rather, it's suddenly being demanded of me to take my time and be frugal. This has led me to take on two jobs at the age of 18, one of which is full time and surely not passive income. I'd like to say I'm not worried about the future ahead, I'd like to say that it's not looming ahead of me with almost no chance of being bright, but if I said those things, I'd probably be lying. I'm going to be a little bit stressed out, and even more than a little bit worried about how it's all going to turn out. It's true, I do have a smart head on my shoulders, but that won't pay my way until I'm out of university.

All of this talk about the future led me to think some strange things, as, I do over think almost everything I do.I started to think about passion, and the passion of man in general. One night, weeks ago, I sat down with my mother and expressed to her the fear I have that my run is over, and that I'll slowly make my way to 30 without doing what I love, and that I'll be severly in debt and worry only about money. Of course she told me I was too young to think like that, but reality says it's probably true. I'm going to be an engineer in four years, but something about that doesn't sit right with me. It's not what I love.

Why I'm becoming what I am is because it's safe, it's the right thing to do. Or is it? Honestly, there is about as much chance of me getting a high paying job as an engineer as there is of getting a high paying job as a musician. I'm thinking now that I took the "safe path" thinking the wrong thing. It's not truly a safe path, simply the one most troden. If I had the strength, if I weren't so fatigued by routine and pressure, I might turn back to the turning point I more or less missed. I might contemplate a little more deeply which path I should've taken. There are probably as many pharmacists in this city as there are successful photographers or photo editors.

I want to play guitar for the rest of my life, and I want to be a father. I want to do two of the things I've always wanted to do. Going to university won't change that, and after I get my bachelor's, maybe I'll have the chance to take the path I never took, but I can't see it happening. Once you're finished you're tied to a post and it's hard to get the momentum up to try again. I can say it's mostly my fault that I'm not already a popular musician, there simply isn't enough effort on my part. I wish there was, and I wish I could say I tried as hard as I could, but I didn't. I let it die because it wasn't safe, and it hadn't got me anywhere before. What I need is group of people who share my passion, right now, so we can catch up on some lost time.

"Whoa oh, you're right or you're wrong" - Who Watches the Watchman, The Prize Fighter Inferno

I was at a show last night, in the heart of the scene, and the emotions and incredible fraternity I felt there was like no other. I felt like I was in the midst of what I'd always wanted to do. I see the bands touring who come through starving but happy, and I feel so much envy for them. I wish I could do that so much, if only for a little while.

I know you all worry about all of this, you all ask the question "Have I done the right thing?" But now, if you have the chance, please take my advice, and stop waiting, because that's what I'm doing. Your dream won't chase you, infact it's running, so don't give it a headstart, and chase what you want right now. If you want to keep waiting, putting it off until you are "ready", stop waiting, because I know from experience that there's no such thing as "ready". You have to dive in head first or you'll lose. I'm already half way down in the deep end, but now I'm going to start my ascent, and you can all look for me, because I'm sick of being like everyone else. I'm sick of not being the individual I'm destined to be regardless.

My music is who I am, not an engineer. Me and my guitar are a symbios, not me and my graphic calculator. Just sick sick sick of waiting because there is no ready, so here I come.

Symphonic Insinuation

I've got a ton of reasons just built up all over the place, but it's not going to get me anywhere.

I was falling asleep one night, not too long ago, and I started to think of a picture I'd seen not long at all ago. It was something Bill Henson had created, that I started thinking about. It was a natural scene, destroyed and hopeless, with a little bit of light cresting the horizon. Fallen branches in the foreground, the color green just showing through the bleak decay of the rest. Every bit of art I see is surrealism to me, because it's usually something with so much metaphorical meaning, that I'll never truly grasp it's reasoning, yet I'm here, seeing it, being a part of it. Just seeing it makes it surreal to me.

So I was falling asleep.

I played this little flute line in the back of my head, stage instructions were to breath slowly. The line repeated, and fell and swelled and did when music does. The violins were next. They came in softer, as though they were sneaking up from the back of my psyche. Then there they were. They just were. I didn't really come up with how they would sound. They just came in with their own independent composition. The stage instructions were telling me to count.

The picture never faded, even as the tattoo of drums began to ring in the mix of what seemed like at least forty instruments. I was Beethoven taking a nap. The stage instructions were telling me to keep my eyes closed, it would work faster that way. I remember trying to get up, trying to write this symphony down, but that picture kept reverberating in my eyesight, and it was like I was waiting for something. Some beautiful release.

The entire symphony was playing now. Thrashing about and falling into a groove. Rising and falling like human emotion itself. I heard it so vividly, in all of it's movements, how ever many there were, but couldn't remember this my own miraculous work for the life of me. I've been exaggerating when I tell people that I dream of conducting an orchestra, I didn't think it would actually happen.

That's more or less all I have to say for now. I'll post later tonight most likely.

For one to another.