The Secret Wish...

I want to send a message. I want to speak without words. To share openly the ideas That have amassed within. I want open thought. I want ideas in tones. Expression without consequence. Love without Fear. I want my feelings to flourish. I want color, joy, happiness. Do you see the patterns? What I Hear Is Harmony What I Feel Is Ecstasy This Is The Closest Thing On Earth To A Miracle Let Music be the Food of Love

The Lies of the Eyes are Written in Fiction...

Deception occurs with our very perception. This deception begins with the eyes themselves. The eyes cannot see all spectrum of light. In turn, we cannot perceive the world to it's fullest. When the brain goes to process the raw data, it often fills in the blanks, or processes it relative to other images. When the mind interprets this product, it can only interpret based on images already perceived. We are not perfect beings. We, in turn, make mistakes. The world continues turning.

All of our senses decieve us in one way or another. They are unable to perfectly emulate the world around us. We can only function based on what data we receive from them. In my honest, but highly uneducated opinion, no sense decieves us more than our sense of sight.

Templates...

How do I explain who I am in five minutes. It's a bit unfair to ask us to sum all of our life experiences, opinions, and ideas into a 300 second presentation. It's cruel, and unusual. If I even wanted to prented to want to do this, I'd have no idea where to begin. I guess I could start by saying that I spent three hours in a pub drinking pints with a mate, and talking about music. I tend to do this a lot. The talking about music part, not the drinking in pubs. I've probably spent a large portion of my life talking about, and listening to music. Both papers that I've had to write so far this semester have been about music. Almost all the titles to posts in this very blog are indeed song titles, or re-purposed lyrics. Start to see a pattern, eh?


I do tend to get a lot of flak about it, too, though. I could probably name off a hundred different bands that few, if any of you would know. This has given me the pretentious label, and I've had people tell me that I select music simply because it's unknown. I apologize to all of those who I've given this thought to through my music selection. I tend to pick music on based on one of three criteria; First, it's eclecticness, sure. I enjoy songs that interest me. Who doesn't? Second, the story behind the band, album, band. If it's an interesting story, then I'm always interested. Lastly, enjoyment. This one is very vague, and for good reason. I consider myself a collector. Like most personal collectors, I collect what I like, and I've found very little that I don't like. This has lead to push my music collection to around 12,000+ songs at last count, in the last generation of it.

As strange as I am, I enjoy creating multiple catalogs, though not entirely on purpose. I've had many iterations in the past. I all, around 5 to 6 different "Libraries" each containing a different set of music, and each one lost due to some kind of hardware failure. All but the last one, which was backed up at 11,000 songs. Not everything was saved, but most. At the time, I felt like it would actually be more beneficial to get new music. Not having the songs I use to listen would prevent me from listening to them repeatedly, and would force me to explore new areas of music.

I was right, too. Not having those bands and songs which have come to form a sort of "security blanket" has forced me into new, and at times uncomfortable territory. This is not because I dislike the music, but people do tend to stick to one, two, or at most three different major genres without branching out too much. I've found that it's hard to when you become accustomed to what you're listening to. I've also learned that those that say they listen to "everything" are generally lying. Peoples views of what "everything" is, tend to be very narrow. Mention one genre out side of the blanket term, and you're likely to hear a "no", or, more often, a "what?". What do I listen to? "What I can get my hands on."

Stab The Unstoppable Hero...

It's been awhile. I've taken a little break, sure, but I'm still here. I've just been busy, with life, and all. Trust me, it's nice to have something to do, after you feel like you've been floating through life for the past year or so. Gives a sense of meaning. Progress...

Quite a lot has happened since my last letter. I've got direction now, but I'm not any less of myself, just more directed, I'd guess. More focus, meaning much more for the future. I'd love to let you know of all I've done, but it's not all that interesting. Just what should have been done about two and a half years ago.

I'm sorry. For now, I must leave you, but it's as I promised: more for the future.

Long Lonely Night...

The cold is biting. Fridged air blows across my face, making me feel all the more hollow, as if it's blowing through me. The moon hides behind the thick dark clouds, enveloping the white, snow laden street before me in a shroud of black. I bow my head and stop my pace. I close my eyes. No difference. Closing my eyes, and opening again, it's the same: impenetrable darkness. It's as if the world has suddenly stop existing around me. I contemplate this thought for a moment. What if?

I shake my head at the notion, as my body again reminds me of the harsh chill through a quiver that runs down my back. The whistling wind continues to blow. A second more, and the light of the moon returns, a half crescent of hope. I return to my journey. The thought again comes to me. What if the world did suddenly stop existing? What would happen? What would cause it? It's hard for humans, like myself to picture themselves not existing, though, I'd suppose one couldn't. I'm press my brows together and stroke my chin, as I drift deep into thought. If I were to guess, it'd be much like this street, cold and alone, dark and emotionless.

I feel even more alone by this thought. I press tightly to my coat, and continue walking a quicker pace. I look at the carpet of purity laid before me, stretching endless off into the distance. It's untouched, and the only sign of anyone's presence are the footsteps left from my path. Again, I seem to be reminding myself of just how lonely I am, but I suppose that is the cause of my journey.

A Christmas party. Or was it something else entirely? I'm not sure. Now that I mention it, I'm not exactly sure from where I came. Amnesia? Surprised at my own unknowing, I look up in suspense. The wind immediately responds by removing my black cap, and carrying it off somewhere behind me. I turn and look back from whence I came. My footsteps lead off into the darkness, and it appears that my hat was carries off there, as well. I try to argue in favor of going after it, but it seems futile in the extreme darkness, and my body simply wants to press on. I feel that some poor lost soul will stumble upon the hat, and need it far more than I.

I continue once more on my journey, thinking back to why I set out in the first place, and from where. I know that it had to be someplace far warmer than this. Though I was not lacking appropriate attire, I was not dressed for an extended trek in this weather, by any means. Long black wollen coat, mittens, long, thick pants, and boots that leave deep imprints in the snow. From where I come continues to elude me, as though the thought is dodging my questions. I feel that I know from where I came, but I simply can not make of it. I tire from seeming complexity of the question. To where I'm going, I too, can not recall. A party? For what, I wonder. A time of celebration and joy, merriment and gift giving? What could there be to celebrate on such a cold, lonely evening and does seem that I, undeed, seem to be very alone. the darkness enshrouding my surroundings, as though they themselves are nothing but the dark. Alone.

The biting cold reminds me of just how alone I am. I look around more closely, but there still appears to be nothing but snow and darkness, aside from the half crescent moon, providing hope for this weary traveler. I walk calmly through the snow, leaving careful footprints in my wake. As I do, I come across a black cap. I stop and am a bit stumped by this one lone hat sitting in my path. I, again, look around, and there is no presence other than myself. I wonder what poor soul could have left a single black cap sitting in the snow. The wind blows through me as though I'm hollow. In need of more insulation, I kneel to retrieve the hat. As I do, the moon slips behind the clouds, and I am alone. Indeed, it's as though the world has disappeared. I ponder this notion for a moment. In the dark, I pick up the hat, and place it on my head. As I stand, the moon returns, and I continue my journey, with the thought plaguing my head: What if the World has ended?