stream [hear in(to) my mind]
heat from the muggy summer day has
slowly f a d e d
the blessed chill of night creeps in through the screens
that keep the outside world from me
me?
i sit on this old leather couch
it’s seen better days.
so have i.
the sigh that resonates in my chest
rising, falling
if it were that sighs were vessels
carrying, holding our emotions
bourne out into the world on that small puff of air
and
if it were that air were an elixir
one such that when we brought life-giving air into our lungs
we could bring in happiness by that same route
but no, the fluke of life
does not allow for such pleasantries.
It’s been a while.
Today was just one of those days. I’ve been thinking a whole damn lot lately. About life. About how I’m living mine. About who I spend my time with. About my family. About how society works. And about all the crazy rules and structure we all have. Life, originally wasn’t meant to be this way. I’m pretty sure it was just a fluke to begin with.
God, I have a lot to say, and very little organization to this all.
Life, I think, was just a fluke. A mishap. From what I can tell, that’s all. A glorious mishap that gave me who I am, my consciousness. And maybe our consciousness is just in our heads, but i don’t think it is. I think it is outside of ourselves. Because sometimes, when I sit under a tree in the middle of summer in the heat and the mottled shade. And I can smell the grass and the flowers and the dirt, I feel connected to everything. And I feel that I’m experiencing something that couldn’t possibly be just in my head, it’s too great for that. At least I hope it is. It would be a pretty depressing existence to exist only in our own, or in someone else’s imagination.
Part of that reasoning comes from my idea that we can only imagine things that truly exist on our plane of reality. I watched Paranormal Activity the other day, and it got me thinking, how do so many cultures have records of demons and ghosts if they don’t actually exist? I mean, there are records from every time period, and from societies that existed at the same time but had no knowledge of each other. So all these stories have to be based somewhere. How likely is it that all early people have imagined the same type of creatures? Not likely, I say.
On to society. Today in my US History class, our teacher talked about how the railroads made standardized time necessary. I found myself damning them silently. I hate how society is so restricted by what time it is and when they have to be places. It pisses me off. Why can’t we live how we were probably originally supposed to; without set times when we eat, sleep, work, play. It’s actually better for you, said my 7th grade science teacher, to graze all day rather than eating only three meals. It lets your body know that it does not, in fact, need to store fat because there is plenty of food to be had. I don’t know why I can remember that, but I can. It rang true with me I suppose.
I said supposed to in that last paragraph, referring to humans. Which honestly contradicts my beliefs, but I won’t go change it, because it shows what society has groomed us to think. We are made to think that we have been created with a purpose, to do something, to act a certain way. But we weren’t. There is no Creator, there is no set path for anyone. We can do whatever we damn well please, and we came from monkeys dammit.
Well, we could do whatever we pleased if government and laws hadn’t sprouted from the minds of some twisted people way back when. Who were they to decide that because we communicated in a way we thought was superior to any other living species, we shouldn’t kill each other like they do? Not that I’m for killing people, but really, who made the decision that there needed to be laws and restrictions and rules. I think that the things on the planet we happen to live on should be things that we are able to explore and use in whatever way we want to. If it’s something that ends up killing you, so be it. We’re all gonna die in the end.
Yes, I’m protesting society, I’m sick of rules. I’m sick of going to class, being on time. I’m tired of always working towards the future. I want to just live in the moment, I want to do as much as I can before I die, because I don’t want to die with regrets. But I’ll keep on this path I’m on, at least for now. Because right now, I’m not my own person yet, my parents still control what I do. But someday, I’ll go about my days on my schedule. Someday, I want to travel around the country in a beat up car holding all the stuff I need. I want to find that great little burger joint in a small town in the middle of nowhere in the midwest. I want to discover an incredible view on a little known path in the mountains. I want to play music on the corner in every big city I pass through. I want to live, really live in that day, that hour, that moment. I’m gonna have great adventures. Anyone wanna come?
musings
Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.
I came across this poem today and was struck by it’s beauty. It is how i want to be remembered. I know no one will probably ever see this post, or read it, but when im dead, if someone knows about my wordpress, i hope they check it. and find this. i want this to be read at my funeral. i read it and it touched something in me. maybe because i hope that there is something after this, that this isnt the final destination. i hope for this, but i do not know. and when im no longer living, i dont want people to think of me as gone forever, i want them to connect things with me; places, songs, events. i dont want them to grieve for the loss, but be joyous for the time they had with me. i guess im feeling a bit morbid and philosophical today, i have an english paper to write and chem homework to do, but intead im on here for the first time in months.
the 4th and bumpkin island
On the 4th of July I watched the Boston fireworks at the Esplanade on tv just like almost everyone else in the US. Rascal Flatts was the band that performed with the Pops. A country band, and a bad one at that. I don’t understand why Rascal Flatts is so popular. Given, not all country music is bad, but there’s a lot out there that just isn’t the kind of music I like. Rascal Flatts performed their version of the song Life Is A Highway, originally by Tom Cochrane. I love the original version of this song. Rascal Flatts did not do it justice in my opinion. The lead singer sounded like he had a ball of air stuck in his throat. It was bizarre. He also had no depth to his voice, it was just a flat, limp, pitiful sound. He was too breathy and too quiet. The song needs to be belted in a strong, clear, powerful voice. Oh, well. The soundtrack for the fireworks was also a bit disappointing. Last year’s was more upbeat, rock songs. This year’s was mostly slow and instrumental. Nothing I could sing to.
On a completely different note, yesterday I went to Bumpkin Island. It is an island off of Hingham in Boston Harbor. It was cloudy and grey but warm, the harbor had a layer of fog hanging around, preventing what would have been a wonderful view of the Boston skyline. The island was beautiful, lush and green, almost tropical looking in places. There were lots of ruins on the island that were fun to explore. I plan on going back there very soon.
peace
Ali
