You Are Your Actions

Action for actions sake is just as naive and ignorant as inaction. An act should have an end goal in mind. To act merely for the sake of a visual show is wasted energy. This is applicable to all facets of life; participating in and professing a faith just to look religious, arguing, contrarian ideologies, etc.

There must be a solid ground for an action to have any significance. It’s spoken about in movies as “Dying for nothing.” when the naive yet selfless hero attempts to throw themselves into harms way, knowing they will die and change nothing. While self-righteous indignation may seem great, it does nothing.

Why do you REALLY go to church? Why do you REALLY protest? Why are you REALLY willing to risk your life? Do you truly believe the things you tell people just so they stop talking to you about it or perhaps do you say and do these things just to keep up appearances? For all the things I’ve been told to cherish and keep on a pedestal, as I’ve grown up and become an “adult” I find it wondrous that we constantly make excuses for why things are the way they are and why those things we were told to cherish are impossible now. “Do away with childish things” and what-not, this is the REAL world.

We shift blame for the reason why things became the way they are instead of actively trying to change course. “We’re heading off the cliff but we’re already heading this way, and I don’t want to be in the driver seat when we go over. I didn’t put us on this path.” Apathy and a reluctance to do wrong in order to keep up appearances lays the blame at everyone’s feet when we should be looking at ourselves. We are all in the wrong but no 1 can truly point to another to cast blame.

We left kindergarten years ago yet ALL people across this planet resort to name calling, and cast their vast nets of blame all while ignoring our own faults because clearly, our faults aren’t as bad as that persons, so we can obviously work on ours after they get their shit together.

We have our strengths but we allow them to go to waste because of whatever nonsense way of life we and generations before us have come to believe to be beneficial for us.

What is an action without the proper foundation? A death sentence to our quality of life.

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Winter’s Reach

Even with the heat on, as I was sweating, winter stretched into my room and lapped at my arm. I glared at the window before I got up to check it, just to make sure the top window hadn’t crawled it’s way down a few millimetres. I pulled the curtain away and saw nothing but the pure whiteness that was the blizzard’s aftermath. The window was solidly closed, the latches were locked as well. I grabbed the curtain to pull it shut again but I froze in place. There was a figure standing in the street outside my new house. The tall dead trees of winter looked like they were quivering with anticipation behind them. I tried to pull the curtain but I wasn’t sure if moving was the best thing to do at that moment. My mind however, was free to race.

“I can’t tell if it’s a dude or a chick.

Aren’t they cold?

Why are they standing there?

Why are they looking at me?”

8920426131_160d913bd3_b

Photo by Adrian Smalley, https://www.flickr.com/photos/smalleyphotography/8920426131 used under Creative Commons 2.0 No changes were made to this image.

 

Then I noticed the snow around them was melting and as I looked away from their face to focus on the pool of water under their naked feet, a voice pierced my mind.

“Ektrazeh nuk, talemnasool. Ikst bjall talemnashadh.”

I stood there, the voice echoing in my head as they started walking toward my front door. I couldn’t move. Thinking back on it I don’t know if it was fear or something else that petrified me. All those years of learning to defend myself vanished from my mind. Street fighting, shooting, gone. They say your life flashes before your eyes before death, well I’d always been early and getting a head start on things. As I heard my front door torn off it’s hinges I took stock of my life. Rocky childhood, abuse, drugs but then when I was finally on my own I’d gotten good jobs, paid my way through college and I’d just bought this house…

And now I was going to die in it.

The front door sailed across the street and hit a tree, knocking down the snow. A bright flash appeared amoung the trees but then I heard steps on my staircase. I whipped around and each step seemed to fall with the weight of my life, shaking every fibre of my being. I was sure I’d stopped breathing but my heart was trying to get away by bursting through my chest… It’d never beaten so hard. The person reached the top of the landing and their steps paused as if they were trying to figure out where I was from where they saw me outside. Then it seemed like someone whispered in my ear.

“Take two steps to the right or I can’t help you.”

First I heard a random voice in my head and now, “no one” is whispering in my ear. I raised my right arm as if trying to distinguish between my right and left and fought with myself about whether or not moving was a good idea. Maybe the thing in the hall would think I bolted and they’d leave. As I had that thought the footsteps started again, as if my thinking tipped it off.

I realized I’d started breathing again. Fast, chaotic breaths were dispelling cold clouds from my mouth into the air. It’s fingers wrapped around my door frame followed by it’s head, peaking from behind it’s hand like the most terrifying game of peekaboo. Their eyes were empty yet full of hunger. Golden iris’s with pinpoint pupils were looking at me as if I was dinner. It’s mouth opened and it was breathing heavy and fast. They looked filled with as much anticipation as I was filled with fear.

It walked in the room disturbingly fast and as it was about 5 feet away from me I didn’t take two steps, I lunged to the right. My eyes were fixed on their golden ones and as they turned toward me my window imploded into the room. I saw blood splatter from the person in front of me onto my bed. They grabbed at their shoulder and roared while turning towards the window, sounding like some kind of lion mixed with a crocodile. There was a flash just like I saw earlier amoung the trees and then someone else just appeared in my room. In the blink of an eye there was a long sword sticking through Gold Eye’s head and it’s body went limp.

The new person in my room walked to the window and looked around for a few seconds before walking over to his sword, which was lodged in the dead persons head. He put his foot on it’s mouth and grabbed the handle of his sword.

“The problem is, there’s no fuller on this blade so it gets wedged inside em every time if I stab rather than slice. Thing is, with my blink, it’s easier to stab.”

He grunts loudly as the blade pulls free and he wipes it on the dead persons clothes before stowing it on his back.

“Well, it was only one tonight. But there’s no way to tell if that one was connected to the hive mind or if it was paying roaming charges. Either way you got two choices. You come with me now and I’ll get you somewhere safe or you can stay here and tell the police about these two crazy assholes who broke into your house. That the crazy asshole with a sword killed the other crazy asshole who was going to kill you; by the way, this guy tore your front door off. Then, when the police are gone, either another lone wolf will come by since you’re marked now or maybe this one’s hunting party finds out their sibling died in your house. Me explainin this to you only happens if we leave tonight, right now.”

I stood up and looked at the pool of blood pouring out of the dead things head into my green rug and shakily walked to my closet, threw my coat on the bed and pulled out a lock box before answering.

“My shoes are downstairs. Can I bring my shotgun?”

I’m here, I am.

A girl is spending the day at the park. She notices the clouds’ shadow rolling across the grass while that same wind rustles that very grass. The girl looks up and the sun peaks out from behind the clouds making her shut her eyes quickly but she doesn’t look away. The warmth of the sun, with all of it’s brightness, even through her eyelids she can experience it.

In many ways we are either the girl or the sun, sometimes both at the same time. When we are afraid we close our minds waiting, hoping for someone to tell us when it’ll be safe again. We have to shine with everything we have so we can see there is something warm beyond our fears. The funny thing about light is you don’t have to yell and scream to tell people it’s on. They can see it and feel it; in some cases we can even hear it.

With the sun shining through her eyelids the girl spoke.

“My eyes are closed but the sun is still shining.”

Insanity of the Writer

A person who dips in and out of different points of view, universes and thought patterns. By this definition a writer should be insane by “normal” standards however a good writer can differentiate between reality and the realities they create for their characters. Writers are no more crazy than any person with imagination.

Convexly in order for a writers audience to believe the world they’ve created the writer has to believe in it more so. They must walk it’s streets, fly it’s skies and talk to its inhabitants. They must eat its food and partake in their beverages according to local customs. The writer must live along side the people, crying for their losses and reveling in their accomplishments. The writer should find it hard to say goodbye to these people for they were created with love and passion. Like any real world love, the writer must know when to let go.

The writer should see through many lenses but the writer must keep in mind that lenses alter their view and that at the end of the day the mind does not need glasses.

The Wisdom to Know

A conversation between Panzer Steegle and an Energy Being.

 

“Well you guys are hyper advanced compared to us on Earth, it’s more than likely life will exist 4 billion years from now. How are you going to prevent the collision of Andromeda and Milky Way.”

She gave me a look one would expect from their grandparent before speaking.

“Why would you want to stop existence?”

“That’s not stopping existence! It’s preventing billions of planets from being destroyed and countless systems from being eaten by blackholes!”

“Keeping our two galaxies in their current places throws all the other galaxy’s out of balance. Are our lives so important as to disrupt and destroy countless others whom we may never meet, solely because we don’t know them? We know their stories. Families, children, persons whom are ill, persons whom are doing all they can to improve someone else’s life in the face of evil and negativity.”

“So what you’re saying is, it’s possible to control a galaxy… but it’s irresponsible?”

“Of course it isn’t possible! Could you stand in front of a speeding, out of control truck and stop it from running you over with just your Earthling body?”

My Happiness

This is something I wrote back in my high school days

Unsure of the future,

and unable to remember the past,

the present keeps me going

because it is all I have.

To do what I can each second of the day

and spend it with those for whom I care.

My life, in my eyes

Can never be a waste.

To ponder the consequences

is fear of the unknown

And will hinder this process of life

Life should not be held back but embraced.

Comunication…again

As the years go on, we develop more clever ways of communication to spread ideas faster. We long to tell our experiences to others, and hear about others exploits while on the journey we have come to call life. The need to express things that we think about is in all of us, and it is this need that creates what we call the arts.

Whether we participate in the literary, paper and pencil, or video/visual sense of the term art, most people are trying to get out what is on their minds. For want of acceptance by another, or to pass along important information. We tell stories and make pictures because, hopefully, we’re trying to say something important. We take pictures of things because we lack the words to describe what it makes us feel or think. I once heard that living in itself can be art, and by that definition everyone is an artist, and everyone is trying to purvey something of importance.

Actions have meaning, every action, not just the ones we think out but the subtle ones as well. We as a race have come to think too deeply about the intended meanings of others actions, and we have forgotten how exactly, to look at everything as part of the story. Story is more than just a fancy word I’m using to sound like an intellectual, I’m far from being one. When I say story I’m talking about life. We learn from cautionary tales as much as we do from mistakes. We live life everyday, and the experiences we have are all the more important to letting us know, where we are going and where we came from.

All of this came to me, as a result of looking up how it is exactly television signals transmit the pictures we love so much. Then I got to over thinking, “What is the reason we have television?”. I thought even further back into history, and I remembered radio programs my parent’s told me they listened to. We as a sentient race have a deep seeded necessity to express ourselves in whatever way we can. This tenet extends into every single action, performed every single day, by every single person on this planet. We have to tell those who come after us what we did, so we can literally learn from our past mistakes, no matter how many millennia ago. Our major problem thus far hasn’t been our inability to tell stories, or paint pictures, or more through visual actions. It has been our inability to listen to them.

Also I did not create the picture i got it from opte.org they mapped teh internets so to speak 🙂Image

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