I am now sitting here writing my research paper that's due for history tommorow. Tommorow also happens to be the last day of school (1/2 day) before christmas break. It's interesting the way that's set up, because most of my other teachers seem to have given up on teaching this close to break, but Eudy made the biggest paper of the year due the day before break. It makes it seem almost as if we have to earn the break. I feel like as soon as i finish the paper break will start, it is the final trial in this journey I have thus endured. Whatever. For Christmas I'm probably getting a four track. We want to start actually getting somewhere with making music, so I figured that could get us pointed in the right direction. We just need some demoes down.
And so as another dreary day pulls to a close, by looking back on what happened to ourselves can we start to piece together this jumble and clatter of mismatched ideas of hate/love?

Beauty/Pain

What is beauty? What is Love? What is the good in this world? Is it merely the absence of pain? Because there is no such thing as love without hate, how can a person experience beauty if they’ve never known pain in their life? Beauty is realative. So does that then make beauty the absence of pain? A person that is constantly in a state of sweet bliss knows not that they are, because that they have nothing to judge their experiences against. Is everything beautiful that happened to you, beautiful on its own, or is it only beautiful when measured against the banalities and failures of everyday life? But then take that person that’s in the constant state of beauty, what if they were not always like that; let’s say that they entered upon this utopia roughly halfway through their life. Up until the point where they entered this state, they had experienced pain, so that means while this utopia was new to the person it meant more to them than it did after a year of being in it. Therefore if that logic is sound, then the interpretation of beauty can in cases be extended to say that beauty is the absence of pain while it is still new to a person. If beauty is constant, than it becomes jaded in the human mind, and it desires something even grander. Therefore in life, it is necessary to experience pain if you want your life to be beautiful. Every downfall and every setback, rejection and disappointment is only there to add to the grandeur of the beauty that shall eventually come. But that brings up even more points, if beauty is the absence of pain, then that means that there is a state of no pain at all in which there is 100 percent beauty, but of course that is impossible…Unless you look to the Buddhist beliefs of Nirvana, which I won’t, and don’t care to mention in this note. In all practical senses, it is impossible. This leads to my next point, if for everything good that happened to you, there was something bad that equaled it out that would mean that your life is mad up of 50% beauty 50% pain. I don’t believe that. That would be taking it a little far; it’s bound to be unequal. But the thing is, a person with a higher percentage of pain in their life will savor that beauty all the more, and it will be worth much more to them. Because they have less of it, it is more valuable, and maybe in that case everybody experiences the same amount of beauty in their lives, just in different amounts.

My Blog

This blog was born out of me writing poetry, and Kevin Schlink opposing me posting it on Facebook. And so, in the deep Winter, this blog shall break through the icy restraints of social code and delve deeper than the snow can bury. Like a fire spreading across the tundra both burning yet at the same time bringing warmth and hope, this blog shall enlighten and rebirth those who read it.

My Last Breath

I’m calling you now
Please don’t
Don’t say a word
There isn’t enough time
You can only listen

I am leaving now
I won’t be back
Adrift in this foreign land
I thought of you

As I grow cold
The only warmth
In my torn body
Is from the last breath
in which we shared

I hope you can hear me
i hardly can
Just listen to my words
Thick with love and blood

I’m not sure I’d ever want
You to see me
In such a state
But you had to know

Yours will be
The last voice I hear
As the world grows dark
Sit there it won’t take long

The dust grows wet
My breath grows deep
My breath comes wet
The dust blows away

As blood fills my lungs
I hope you can hear me
As I lay here dying
As I lie here loving