Introspection #2: Freedom

     Does freedom not terrify you?

     Think about it: what is more important, not being talked about by strangers, or being happy, confident and sure of yourself? To me, a lot of these social things that tell me how I am supposed to act are logically fucked. I act because I think it's the best way to act or how I want to act, not because 'I'm supposed to' anything. Nobody really cares when it's not in line with social acceptance, it's just considered quirky to most, when really it should be considered correct to act in such a way that you feel you should act.

     ...But I suppose, maybe, that's because I can justify everything I do.

     I can and will act how I want, because a lot of my moral basis relies on it. Being pent up with these restrictions you think exist stops you from acting in the right way. I understand that I am able to do literally anything I am capable of doing. Actually think about that concept for a minute: you can do literally anything within capability. It's pretty terrifying... everything is too easy, barely an arm's reach away.

     Freedom is this. It is knowing that you can probably take someone's life, randomly, or even your own, without reason. It's getting into a car and doing whatever you want, because you're not on rails, you're literally able to drive in any direction or into anything you want. Freedom is breaking a shop window just because it's there. It's punching the back of someone's head because they're walking too slow. Freedom is getting on a plane one day and flying away, changing your name and never being found.

     We all know we're capable of this, we have strange thoughts all of a sudden that 'we can do this' and I think the only reason those appear is because you've gotten so used to your cage that you keep yourself in that you forget it's there. Then a thought appears that never really truly get's thought about in it's full fruition - you are not restricted, at all.

     Of course, that's the scary part, but we need to be smart about it. Realising 'I'm free' is one thing, but under no circumstances is it okay to act in the ways mentioned above, because then there is understanding how to properly act. Firstly, you realise how free you are, breaking the rules and regulations that are wrongly expected of you. Secondly, build up your own basis of action that embraces your freedom but hides you from the chaos left open. Think consequences. Yes, you can murder someone - but you'll go to prison as a negative to you, and that's a fucked up thing to do as a negative thing to the world.

     So, take up morals on the basis of goodness and happiness and act in the way you think best suits who you want to be or is correct. That's the way I tend to act, and quite frankly, I am comfortable with this aspect of who I am.

Introspection #1: Who You Were.

     Am I running from the past, or just pretending it didn't happen? I mean, I don't really ever look back, not properly. Never looking back with regrets or awe or lust; nostalgia is so short lived that it scarce becomes a notion to consider and it's all because of who I used to be.

     I wasn't evil or anything, never really did anything ultimately bad, and I don't really wish I could change anything - because we are simply made of our mistakes. There's nothing that could or should be done about those. At least there were a couple of times I could have called myself happy. It's a natural thing that, quite frankly, I would have changed everything if I had the power of foresight at the time. But I didn't, and that's okay now because it's happened.

     I am at peace with my past, but only in a way that I wish to distance myself from him. A long, long distance. He simply was not okay, he was flawed in all the wrong ways but I respect him for one singular and special thing. He taught me who to be.

     Who to be is not who I want to be, or improvements on my former self, but a looking to my  future self. I want to look back now in seven years time and say: 'Yes, he was a decent person. I like him.' Because with change becomes opportunity, when approached right, and the only opportunity I want to grab is the idea that in the future I would happily be friends with my younger selves. This is not something I can currently claim. 

     When everyone else is gone - you are all that matters, and your memories will count in those remote moments. So make sure you think upon them fondly with all mistakes included and then I'm certain you'll be far more comfortable with who you are.
 
     Just... Be the person you'll be happy you were.

Dissertation Complete!

Hello, friends and non-friends!

Today is an important day for me. I officially handed in my philosophy dissertation and, well, I'm rather proud of it.

So thanks for anyone who helped towards it. All I have left now before my degree is over is a few exams which shouldn't be too difficult at all.

So as of now, I am tidying up my blog of writing to make way for the new stuff coming in. More specifically I have added new sections, including essays I've written for the (more than expected) people who were interested in reading them. So do check out my work on the right hand side.

Other things I'd like to mention is my plan to write many many dark and horror stories before October as a learning process and as a project to have a story per day in October. I'm excited to be doing it, but I honestly don't think I will make it to thirty-one finished and well edited stories by then, it's just too much. I shall see how far I get, however, and it will be interesting.

Next up though, as of six days from now I will be posting a series of 'Introspections' which will be non-fictions posted every three days and will get very personal to my thoughts and some will be quite dark, others optimistic and essentially when put together will cover the basis of how I think and why I do the things I do, etc. I'm not easy to get to know well, so they will be an almost necessity if people really want to try to understand me. Very self-centred, but I think it'll be both important and interesting.

So, do share your thoughts. Thank you in advance.

Ciao for now!

I Like Books...

...I like books.

I like the feel of a book, the reassuring weight, the smell as you flick back the pages. When you first get new a book, it needs to be cherished, taken so slowly as it is opened for the first time. When the get an old book and you appreciate the delicacy of the yellowing pages. I don't even need to know the story. I like books.

With a book, you know the story is in there, so you can appreciate the book without knowing the story. It's not going anywhere, you can hold an entire world in your hands and scarcely know a thing about the world within, but still love the book. When you do know of the story, your taste of the book may disappear, so better to hold onto the sacred feel of a book less read, is it not?

There are fewer things more delightful that being surrounded by books, browsing an endless bookcase where nothing necessarily stands out. You just pick a book, and place it back, and pick another and repeat the process, enjoying only a sip of each. The first page, perhaps, maybe just the blurb... let's not rush into things.

I like books, and books never reciprocate. They throw you around all over the place when you decide to take the plunge, they take you to happy worlds and treat your feeling so kindly, then just as quickly they cut you down. Slice. Stab. Garotte. Then they're over. Though you never hate the book, because when the book ends you feel empty, despite the ups and downs of the emotional obliteration they put you through. Sometimes, you even go back to feel exactly the same at the hands of the same book, as if the intensity of the memory has fled to the extent you think it'll be okay. It's more than okay. It's soul destroying, and too fantastic to forget. The stories they contain become part of you, thoughts in your own adventures, actions in your own story.

You'll carry on in your life and you will meet someone who shares your interests. You tell them the books you like, and you even recommend the books you like, suggesting that they should feel the intensity you felt, and you can share in the brutality of that book. Then one day, you'll be out, roaming the real world. You'll see a person and you'll see them looking down; smirking. You notice that they are reading a book that you love. Reading a book where you smirked that same way, and it is such a great feeling. You're not jealous, why would you be? Because in that moment, the book is recommending someone. It is recommending you a person and just like when a friend recommends a book, you don't have to take the recommendation, you might not like the recommendation... but you might love it.

So speak to them. Just go and see what happens. Maybe it'll begin a new story; a story that inspires books!

...I like books.

Writing Is Not Independant

     Hey, there! There is quite a bit of reading today, but it's simply my vision of art. So if you carry on reading, thanks! (you're my favourite)

     I have a topic I would like to discuss today, and it's about art. Mainly writing, but it can be extended to my general beliefs about art and aesthetics. Basically, there's this notion that seems to be out there that once something has been created, it is then outside of the artists' hands, and the art is free to be grabbed by anyone appreciating that art to make of it what they like. I would thoroughly like to rebuke anyone who believes this.

     Focusing on the written word, basically, I have mentioned previously about my thoughts on poetry, and quite frankly, with a few tweaks, the same principle should stand for other forms of writing. It is fine if people want to read between the lines, make their own spin off fan-fics and come up with their own theories about the universe you've created - but they cannot freely interpret the things you've actually written however they like. What is written is written as a work of the artist. What and how you write is a reflection of your art, and as a result, you can make ideas subtle so that they mean a different thing after the second and third time, you can make a line ambiguous so as to specifically cause doubt to the reader, but that is all in your control. Any writing that happens outside of the writers control, quite frankly, is bad writing.

      Now, I know all I've done is state an opposition for no real explanation why - so here's the point. Art is created by artists and it's the artists people remember, when people know of the best art, they usually are aware of the creator because that is important, it allows people to seek other works of theirs. If the work is free on it's own, that would enable people to freely take a work, read it, assume it is something entirely different to what the author wrote and a) the work would then not be memorable or good, and b) there would be no need for the author. By saying work is free is like saying 'everyone have an imagination, that I have skill is not important.'

     Writing is a vision of the author. It has a focal point brought about by the author, so good art should carry it's intention directly to the reader's brain. The notion of the writer adds extra depth in figuring out the story, and sometimes adds that extra excitement about guessing where they'll go next because through your work, people get a grasp of you, without knowing anything about you.

     I think this idea is a much more beautiful and professional idea of what is good in art and generally should be practices more often. Because you have to make stuff that average people don't fully get, and make things that most people cannot make themselves. Make what you want to make in a way that only you can. When a comedian stands on stage and makes vague humour that everyone can appreciate, that is not good art, it's trying to be liked, it lacks skill and appreciation and oft times they will be forgotten as quick as they rise. Artists are who are remembered, not their independent works.

     Now I would like to see more similar things happen in music, in that popular music is all focusing on trying to make lyrics that people can relate to, so that people apply it to themselves and like that song. But where is the artist in this? Where is the songs of old that tell stories, personal works that only you can do? We need more music about scenarios and reflections upon the person who made the music. Stop making me think about me, and let us hear about you, you wonderful creators of art.

     Okay, so maybe that last part is a personal desire, but do you see, generally, how much nicer this would be, art being made for art by artists rather than vague masses of forgettable mess? Stop making generic work, and hold it as your own work. Art is the artist, not the work itself.

     Ciao for now.

Content Creation.

So in the coming weeks with nothing to focus on but my dissertation, I fully intend to create some extra content. I have so many ideas that I've actually created a list. Yes, a list! Lists are awesome, not only do they promote remembering and priorities it also stops me being so damn indecisive. But, nevertheless, a few of the things I will be doing are spoken word poems to put up on YouTube, Recording another horror game Let's Play - which will likely prompt some of those horror posts I was going to put up on here again - and also some Introspective nonfiction that I'll be placing both here and all over the internet.

So. There's something you might want to be interested in. Anyway, it was Mother's Day last Sunday and as a result I ended up writing another poem: But because the first poem I wrote was juvenile and cute, this one had to be different and played on an inside joke I've had in the family for a long time that my mum could get away with murder if she wanted to. So, without further ado - here it is:

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Mother! Murder!

 Murder! Murder!
My mum studies murder!
She hears about it, reads it,
and watches loads of shows,
My mum studies murder!
Let's hope she goes,
No further.

Homocide! Suicide! Strange
Occurences of death!
When the last thing they hear,
Is the executioners breath.
She knows it all,
She knows their names.
So when strange things happen,
I'm not saying she's to blame.

But... Just... Keep it in mind,
And watch your behind,
Because...
When a murder is perfect,
And the blood pours out in lakes.
She'll be learning more,
At the expense of your mistakes!

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(Just for clarity, my mother is kind and lovely, she wouldn't be capable of murder, even if she wanted to... well within reason, I mean human capability is a topic for another blog.)

Thanks for reading and Ciao for now.