Satire with Extra Mashed Potatoes

The wind speaks to me and there are colors. Am I sleeping or am I dead? I am not blinded with sight. Eyes lie. I am not deafened by hearing. Ears lie. Truth surrounds me. I am truth. I feel nothing. Nothingness surrounds me. I am nothing. But nothing is not blank. Nothing is not dark. In nothing, there is something. Truth, pulsing throughout the universe, like life in a seemingly lifeless tree. In nothingness, there is swirling certainty. There are colors, pink, purple, yellow, and blue. They are not seen, they are not felt, they simply exist. My pocket of reality is contained in nothingness.

You are deceived. You think you know. You think you know everything. But how can you know when you have eyes to trick you, and ears to fool you?

I stand still and strong, stretching forever upwards towards the light and warmth, the freedom forever unobtainable, the overwhelming, the wonder of everything out there in this world. Reaching down into the dark and damp security of darkness and quietness, where nothing can seep into, hiding, burrowed and buried into myself again and again. Seeking to disappear into safety and quiet.

Time is just yet another illusion that the you buy into. Consciousness isn’t real. It’s a veil obscuring the nothing beyond it. Consciousness isn’t real, emotions aren’t real, beauty isn’t real. The only thing real is nothingness, and truth. Sometimes people say that the truth is harsh. It is not. It simply exists. It is like wood of a tree, hard and unresponsive. Still. Emotionless. It’s hard to believe it’s actually alive.

Instead you chase after the fluttering leaves in the wind, dancing on branches and letting bits of the blue sky through, waving like little flags with their rustling sound. The leaves seem alive. They move beautifully. They offer a promise of truth, hope, and salvation. Then the wind blows harder and the rain comes, and the leaves fall away to the ground, dying, paper-thin lies. The black trunk is all there is left. The hard wood is by no means a bad thing, or a good thing, or any sort of thing. It simply exists.

That is the thing about truth, is nobody understands. And the harder you try, the more obscured it becomes. You get lost in circles and paths that split off infinitely  and then loop back, drop you off into the void and lead you towards madness.

No, come, see me. See how I live. I am strong. I am timeless. I know the truth, which you will never know like I do. The truth is in nothing. Are you jealous? That I live in a world pure and free from confusing senses and feelings and thoughts? That I dwell in simplicity? That I know truth, and you don’t? That I live in nothingness? You wish you could understand, but you cannot. You will never understand. You are a human being suffering under your own ignorance. You can’t unsee things. You can’t unhear things. You can’t unthink things or unfeel things no matter how you try. You can’t get to the center of the universe, where I always was. I am better than you, and there is no denial. Are you jealous? Jealous? Jealous? Ha ha ha. Look at you and your confused little mind. All those swirling silly emotions. You will never understand. You will never know.

The rain talks to me. There is music. The earth whispers to me. The sun sings to me. I simply live. That’s all there is to it. And yet you can’t.

You will never understand. After all, you are a human, and I am a tree. We will never stand level. You will never see truth.

I have no life

People like to think they're more complicated than they actually are. I just randomly realized that while reading about John Green's snapchat on Buzzfeed. John Green actually has ideas. Ideas are complicated, or at least, well-formed good ideas are. Ideas are what create art, and feelings are the raw material of ideas. People like to place importance on feelings. I agree. But a feeling is a long way away from being an idea and even further from being art. Sometimes I am guilty of over-valuing my feelings. Intense, beautiful feelings that get lodged in your chest and make you feel short of breath and demand your attention, and paying attention to your feelings suddenly it seems like your feelings are super important and big and real. And wow, these feelings, okay great, well, the problem is that feelings are felt individually only. Your feelings that are so real to you, exist to no one else. Other people have their own feelings. And sometimes, when you are so focused on your own feelings, it's easy to forget about other people, and then sometimes you get self-important about your feelings and you feel like your feelings are bigger and realer than everyone else's, which gives you importance. You're the main character of your own story. You're the center. You're the one with the feelings. You're important and less so everyone else. That's just so utterly completely wrong though. Even though you don't consciously think that, it's embedded in your subconscious. That was me two months ago. A time when my feelings of sadness, frustration, hopelessness, but also of ecstasy and joy and wonder and awe grew to beasts that surrounded me and tossed me around to each other in some cruel game of catch, until I was limp and blinded to everything and unable to see clearly. It's easy to get selfish about feelings. I try my very very very hardest not to be. I used to be one of the people who thought that, since I have feelings I'm important. And yeah sure feelings are important?? But really, seriously, what use are feelings going to be if you don't use them to build ideas, or if you don't learn something from them, or if you don't use them to sympathize with others? I think that's the difference between people who have feelings and people who have ideas. Having good ideas is hard. John Green has ideas. What's more, he's good at communicating them. Ideas give feelings a mind, but they're so hard to hold on to. I respect John Green. He has lots of good ideas. Maybe it's a thing that comes with being an adult. I don't know. I think Hank once said that the difference between being a child and an adult is thoughtfulness or something. Well obviously I have a long way to go before being an adult then. See this is why I can't art. You can't art without ideas. Well, actually, you can art, but no promises on being able to art well. All I can do now is practice drawing so that when I actually have good ideas, I can have the skill capability to actually make them come to life. This is why teenage writing always comes out cliche and unoriginal. Just look at those teen ink books. Sure they're written well enough but you find the same values repeated over and over again across stories. And you'll find that a lot of them focus on feelings rather than ideas, which is great and all, but you just read it and then forget about it, while an idea will play over and over in your head and stimulate emotional responses anyways. And the ideas in teen writings are often laid out straight, not woven into a story or anything. Which is just harder to feel. Like for example in A Glory of Unicorns compiled by Bruce Coville all the writings are by adults and it's not anything like the teen ink books. All of them are very good because the ideas are actually part of a story not just stated plainly. While a teen ink story would be like "independence is important" a glory of unicorns story would be about a unicorn coming to a girl who is being ignored by her sister, and luring her out into the forest and then accidentally burning her with its fiery mane of passion and teaching her how to dance on her own, thus teaching her that she doesn't always need to follow her sister and others.

Okay, so I just typed all of that. That wasn't even the original intent of this blog post, I came to say that "people like to think they're more complicated than they actually are." Because I just realized that and turned around and looked at myself and my feelings, and realized that my feelings are not as big and huge as they seem. And then I wanted to write a list of feelings in order of how frequently I feel them. Idek why but I feel like if I write them down they'll be, idk, contained somehow and less scary and easier to handle. so ok, I'm going to try my best to order these from most frequent to least frequent.

1. Awe
2. Guilt
3. Defeat
4. Peace
5. Dread/fear
6. Optimism (which is probably not even a feeling but I feel like just putting "happy" is too broad)
7. Sadness
8. Frustration/anger
9. Numbness
10. Joy/ecstasy
11. Determination (screw this I define feeling how I want to)

Ok there horrible list that I wrote while I should have been doing work

And probably my worst blog post yet and that is saying a lot

Daily Challenge 5/9/15

In my dream life, there would be no need to fear anything. Without fear, I'd be able to reach out and do all of the things I want to do but am afraid to do. In my dream life I'd value every second and minute that passes and use it to do something meaningful. Now, I can't do that yet. I like to pretend time doesn't exist. But it does. In my dream life I'd never turn down a free cookie. In my dream life, I'd know exactly what to say to make people feel better, but right now I don't know and instead I kind of sit there going like "It's ok you're going to be fine." or "I'm sorry." I'd be able to gather my thoughts and make real art, not like whatever crap I'm producing now. I'd be able to express exactly how I feel in few words. I wouldn't waste my words. I'd make every word I say matter. And yet I'd still be able to joke around and have fun. In my dream life I'd actually be good at helping people. In my dream life I'd be hardworking and passionate. In my dream life I wouldn't be addicted to the internet. The internet ruins my life. In my dream life I wouldn't even procrastinate. And when I say that, I don't mean just school work and stuff. I mean... like Vi Hart put it,

 …people often say, "maybe I’ll write a book some day," or "some day I'll do a huge composition project." The time is now to do things. So if you have something you think maybe you’ll do someday , what better time is there than now? Life is now! Not . . . when I graduate, or when I’m done with a midterm. Life will always keep coming at you. You’ve just got to do what you want to do! And there is the time, even if it’s only a little bit. You always have enough time to do something if you really want to.

In my dream life I'd actually finish what I start, instead of having like a million abandoned projects lying around. In my dream life I'd know Jesus better and be able to understand deeply what I read from the gospels instead of reading a passage and then rereading it like 100 times in an attempt to get a better feel for it. In my dream life I'd actually try harder to read the Bible while these days most days I don't even look at it. Before bed I sometimes will read a bit but since I'm always procrastinating and sleeping late I get tired and don't read a lot. And when I read I feel like I'm reading something foreign because I don't really know Jesus yet. And that makes me sad. In my dream life I'd practice and get to know my instrument better and get to the point that my private lesson teacher is at when everything makes sense and is in balance, and I can really make the colors shine out. In my dream life I'd be able to play syncopation at 208 beats per minute for 15 straight measures without screwing up in the first 2 measures. In my dream life I'd understand things, and also understand that some things aren't meant to be understood. In my dream life, I'd be at that perfect introversion-extraversion balance point. In my dream life I'd understand people. In my dream life I'd be familiar with drawing and painting, a familiarity that takes years and years to accumulate. I'd have a better relationship with my parents and sister. I'd know just what I should do and what is right. In my dream life, I'd be able to actually do things, not just sit there and think about it.

So I Was Reading My Diary from Fifth Grade

And facepalming sooooooooooooooo hard.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH WHAT EVEN IS THIS
I kept that journal in my top drawer next to my bed for all these years and all 70 college ruled sheets of paper in this spiral notebook are filled with.. just... what?!?
FIRST OF ALL, DID I SERIOUSLY HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO THINK ABOUT THAN THINGS LIKE HOW TO IMPROVE MY HANDWRITING AND WHAT I'M GOING TO GET FOR MY BIRTHDAY AND WHAT I'M GOING TO NAME MY FISH AND HOW I'M GOING TO ARRANGE MY SCHOOL SUPPLIES FOR THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL?!?!?!! I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING..... I LITERALLY RANTED LIKE HALF A PAGE ABOUT THE PINK METAL RULER THAT MY SISTER STOLE:

I got crayons for 25 cents, really cool colored pencils, a large assortment of erasers, and fine tip sharpies, and a pink metal ruler (that my sister just stole and I'm in a pretty bad mood right now... I'm just trying to write happy) I want my ruler back. My sister doesn't even like pink. She was actually afraid of the color in second grade. She stole it because she knew it would make me unhappy. I hate my sister. I want us to make up, but she enjoys torturing me. I try to be nice to her and she stares at me like I've gone crazy, with a "who are you and what did you do with my sister" look on her face. SIGH. Anyways see you after I find my ruler.

OKAY I AM FACEPALMING
SO
HARD
WHAT
EVEN
OKAY AND THERE WAS ALSO THIS FARMING GAME THING I PLAYED AND IT'S RIDICULOUS HOW MUCH I WROTE ABOUT THAT
WORST OF ALL, ARE THE MANY SICKENING PAGES SPENT OBSESSING ABOUT MY FIFTH GRADE CRUSH. IT'S. ABSOLUTELY. HORRIBLE. I AM MORTIFIED. I AM DISGUSTED. I AM REPULSED. I AM REVOLTED. I AM ABHORRED. I AM GOING TO GO SIT IN A HOLE IN MY BACKYARD IN SHAME AND MORTIFIED EMBARRASSMENT NOW.

KHRHKBYBYXDHJUNRBXDBHKXRDTXGHJBXRJDTBHJMXZBXPBSRTHJBATEGFMBUSETRVBAJSTEVBHMRTGBTB

NO ACTUALLY, I LIED. THAT'S NOT THE WORST. THE WORST IS HOW MUCH OF AN ARROGANT SPOILED CHILD I WAS. I WAS SO SELF-RIGHTEOUS. IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT CHILD!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

I WAS SO JUDGMENTAL OF OTHER PEOPLE AND I THOUGHT I WAS SO GREAT AT DRAWING AND I THOUGHT I WAS SMARTER THAN EVERYONE!! HOLY BIRDBOWLS!!!!! I WANT TO CRY FREAKING RIGHT NOW!! 

YEP, DO YOU SEE THIS EVERYONE?!!!?!!!?!??!?!! THIS IS ME!!!! I SUCK!!! YOU KNOW THE TRUTH NOW AND SO DO I!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS SO MUCH AND I CAN'T EVER CHANGE A THING ABOUT THE PAST!!