So I'm going to try and force myself to make some of my 'artistic' thoughts/views, since I seem to think I have "genius" ideas, yet I'm always procrastinating to do them.
Well..though I'm pretty sure this was written about Vietnam, it's pretty easy to represent the current war. Though, I doubt with the pictures I'm able to obtain(compared to the pictures I wish I could find) this will just look like another cheesy political statement..
In order to free ourselves from the matrix(system of control) that we all reside in, we must first gain a complete disbelief in it. That is, if we don't get offered a random red pill. When we disbelieve in it, we have set our own minds completely free in the process, similar to 'nirvana' if you will. Once you get this concept that you must start questioning everything around you, it will become clear that a lack of faith in the matrix will bring you to true freedom. What can we expect to have to doubt about this 'reality'? What core vaules of the false existance, the glue of our digital minds, will we have to forget?
The answer is simple: Who, What, Where, When, How and Why.
I went to the hospital today. I just got back about 30 minutes ago. At school I had taken 8 painkillers, but I didn't feel anything too like..unique. So stupidly I decided to take 8 more right after school. I went to Tim's house and played Halo till 4, then I went home to take a nap. A little into the nap I started sweating an ocean, and then Dan came over. He had broken into my house because he wanted to make sure I was okay and nobody was answering the door/telephone. When he got upstairs, I got dressed and we decided to go back to his house, walking to my stairs was the last thing I remember.
I woke up and I was fighting off a paramedic from grabbing my arms, and I was being loaded into an ambulance. The paramedic asked me simple questions and I drew blanks on all of them. I was constantly puking all over myself and into a little barf-bag.. After I got all hooked up to wires and stuff, I had finally reached the hospial. When I got inside there was a police officer waiting to talk to me. He asked me where I got the drugs frim and I said that I didnt know rhe person's name.
My nurse gave me a cup full of crushed coal and water and made me drink it. :\ straight up nasty! Then I puked it all up again and they made me drink another cup, ugh. The nurse then drew blood from my arm and informed my fmily of the whole situation, then he put 4 stitches in my left ear where my head hit the bookshelf when I collapsed. I sat in the hosiptal till about 9 arguing with my parents before they told me I was safe to go. They wanted to keep me for 72 hours because they didn't believe me when I told them I didn't do the pills as an attempt to harm myself.
The story I heard from Dan was that him and Tim were in the house when I was coming downstais to go to Dan's place and they heard a bang and then a thud. They ran upstairs and saw me with blood trickling out from my ear and Tim went into shock. Dan checked my pulse and called 911, and for a few minutes my pulse had completely stopped. I came so close to dying it's just..unimagineable.
I guess the reason I did the drugs was because I was just curious about them, and I really didn't have anything to really life for. At least I thought so anyways. Thanks everybody for worrying, and I'm okay now. I'm quitting drugs straight up from now on, I'm not even weaiting till 420. My mom is withdrawing me from school tomorrow. She is going to make my life even more pointless and miserable by making me homeschooled. I'll update anything else tomorrow, my mom is kicking me off.
There's something about celebrities. Famous people.
I was watching the Golden Globe, and as I watched the seats fill up with those beautiful people we all envy, admire and identify, I started to wonder how they got there.
These people, they're on the top of the world. I think back to history lessons of giant gatherings of princes and princesses, and flocks of peasent crowds there solely to admire the figures. Then I think about how much we have attempted to keep this tradition.
Imagine being one of those celebrities, on top, everyone knows your name. You live in a castle and feast on a silver apple that's price could afford to feed a family for a lifetime. Now picture George Washington, William Shakespear, and Nero.
There are historical figures that we all know, then there are celebrities that we all know. Back in the middleages, there was a King George the 2nd, and I'll be damned if you can tell me more about him than the peasents of the day could. George the 2nd was just as popular as Morgan Freeman is today.
Now, people could give a damn about the influences and the web George could have made. He was on the top, and even he was forgotten.
I, do not want to be forgotten. I do not want to be famous. I want to be historical. Is that too much to ask for?
Who will your great great grandchild, who undoubetdly will not even know your name, let alone what you did to make sure of their existance(be it purposeful or not), be learning about?
Maybe John Lennon, John F. Kennedy, or John Dillinger.
Will they even care? Can you say that you would care?
It's so easy to become famous. Get a gun, shoot someone.
It's a life's challenge to become historical though. Maybe I should try.
Has anybody ever felt like some other kind of art is missing?
Some way to express yourself that we just..no longer know about. Maybe we never knew about it in the first place.
Some people can put their expressions into a code of words, and write it down on paper, make it flow, and leave it for you to decode.
Others can stain an object with colors, and we automatically form in our mind an image of what they were thinking.
Some can find beauty where nobody else looks, and with the press of a button and a blinding flash, they can capture an image forever the same, expression frozen in time.
Then there are others, who just cannot express. Writing a poem, painting a portrait, taking a picture- talents that escape them. So they are left with only the example of other's emotions to keep their own spirit alive.
Think impossible and dreams get discarded, projects get abandoned, and hope for wellness is torpedoed. But let someone yell the words It's possible, and resources we hadn't been aware of come rushing in to assist us in our quest.
I think it pisses God off when you walk by the color purple in a field and don't notice it
We have lost art. It's gone somewhere, and because of this we all will not be able to truely use the free will of the mind
Maybe this art was lost in time, maybe it was never found. It is lost or it is missing. Will it ever be found? It is possible for us to discover this translation of the expression. Maybe it's not supposed to be found.
Why did we loose our ability to connect with one another as one? Did it make us too powerful? Or did we make it too extreme?
I don't know whether the world is full of smart men bluffing or imbeciles who mean it.
I want to find the way to introduce yourself to me. Maybe I will find the introduction to myself aswell.