Non-sequential, Inconsequential, Dreams

My thoughts never process chronologically. Always these jumbled things I manage to edit before I get it out through whatever medium. For example this:

"ghetto shipping containers slow motion gang documentary poem def poetry rape cute girl crush younger version music cybermen farm trapped tremors bullets  path slowest runner I was going to die woke barely could move"

I was writing a personal tumblr post about a dream I had. I copied the completed text mostly verbatim here. This blog has been... dormant, I know. The thought that whatever happened to grooveshark lost most of the music I used depresses me. But I'm on tumblr often. I like it there.

I had a dream last night(this morning?). It started out like a whovian nightmare with me being trapped in a small house with possibly The Doctor, a companion and one other. It was like the movie tremors, but with cybermen replacing the burrowing worms. Which meant as little movement as possible to avoid vibrations. 

Somehow I escaped that and for some reason I ended up in a tiny ghetto with houses made from shipping containers. I've dreamed of seeing this place before but never dreamed of actually being there. I was in the company of someone who lived there. Somebody humble but respected by everyone there. I didn't visualize a face. I was introduced to someone who seemed to be the leader there. He was the spitting image of Gucci Mane. He was intimidating but I was welcomed. 

I was allowed to explore a bit. They were having a big cook up; I wouldn't call it a barbecue. When I returned to where everyone was I saw a girl I once found attractive, in real life, sitting by that leader. But she was younger, dangerously younger. I could tell from her light skin and outfit that she wasn't from there. I don't know what I was doing but I didn't notice those two left until I heard her scream. My heart sunk and I thought the worst. I thought she was being forced to do something she didn't want to. I ran in the direction of the scream. What I saw was a group of people dressed alike near the leader's container that I also, somehow, knew weren't from there. 

Adrenaline is often called a fight or flight hormone. It brought me to that point with the urge to fight but at that very moment it was sending a different signal to my body. Confused, I turned around to look at the others who chased behind me after the scream. They were all turning to run. Then I started to run too. 

I was the slowest of this pack. I saw more of the matching clothes gang pour through the cracks of the little community. I though I was going to die. I knew I was going to die. I knew I'd be picked off. I kept running. 

That's when everything slowed down. I was running in slow motion,  scared out of mind as I saw bullets slowly passed me, barely missing me. As we were exiting that lot that held the little community my focus slowly shifted. First to the bullet that passed right across my line of vision, from left to right. Then to the shooters in those same matching clothes in the distance to my left. I was going to die. Finally I focused ahead to Humble and Respected running for his own life. I kept running. 

That's when the narration started. Much like a documentary or tragic drama, a booming James Earl Jones sort of voice started to give what sounded like a eulogy of Humble and Respected. The voice mentioned his poetry and I immediately, silently envisioned one of his performances. He was going to die. We kept running. 

As my imagination stretched to its limit to create some sort of escape from this I got awoken by my mother. She was asking if I let the clothes rinse in the washing machine yesterday. I did. I was barely conscious enough to answer coherently though. She commented on how I fell asleep with my laptop in my lap. I didn't even feel it there. After she left I bent my knees and poured everything I could remember into a text post. Then I started to edit.

 考え

Inquiries About Finality

Moirai Mimicry, Atropos Acts by Me

How do you know it's the end? How do you know when to end it? How can you tell when something has run its course? This kind of arbitration plagues me in so much of what I do. I've never initiated the dissolution of any relationship I've been in. If you read my blog you might be able to tell that most of my posts end somewhat disjointedly. I'm not a finisher. But pruning is necessary for any worthwhile growth, right? And I specify pruning, not the brutally destructive flames of burning bridges. How do you know when a branch is no longer beneficial to growth?

Having never learned these things I've developed a sort of hoarder mentality in aspects of my life. I sentimentally retain the useless wrappers from the new thing I buy. I keep facebook friends that I haven't spoken to in years and don't expect to in the distant future. I saved the page of that one thing you posted that I thought you were amazing for. I hold out hope that memorial refuse will be relevant again. I end up holding onto the memory of something that was never really there. I think I'm afraid of acknowledging that.

Maybe this sentimental debris is one of things holding me back. It's strangely paradoxical; admitting that I don't truly have something is preventing me from gaining something new. Then again, my sentimentality is what keeps this blog alive. I started it at a time when peers typically started blogs and abandoned them when that shine wears off, when the engagement desists and their wealth of brownnose peers get tired of giving them social proof. Deleting them or leaving the derelict memories in a corner of a server somewhere. But I keep it up when only a couple of people ever let me know they've even once looked forward to this edited thought vomit.

After I made the first draft of this post, having trouble finishing yet another thing, I came across some advice from Dr. John Gottman on the Four Horsmen of the Apocalypse [of a relationship]. It isn't the definitive guide to telling when something will end or how to end it but I think it's a good start. It's one step on that journey.

That step, however, is in the direction of another goal and another question. Once one knows how and when to end things, how do you begin?

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. 

TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot, "Four Quartets"




Now Playing 'Yes, We're Sinking' by eaneikciv

考え

does anybody read these?

Boy, Aeternus and Dreams

"Do not wait; the time will never be just right. Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along." 

Napoleon Hill

Puer Aeternus: The young god, eternal youth, a sickness. I may not fall under Jung's classification of the man who refuses to grow up but I see parallels which I don't like. Much like a horoscope, I cherry picked whatever I think applied to me. I too avoid doing what I need to unless I'm enthusiastic about it. There's also the the pride, depression and waiting for the world empathetically reform itself so I can pursue my dreams. My subconscious is wiser than my conscious psyche and probably already connected these and other dots.

I had a dream recently. I was hanging around on a street vaguely like one near my house with a few faceless but strangely familiar friends. It was late evening, getting dark but still with decent visibility. Like someone put some cheap UV40 sunglasses on the sky. It was without the orange and purple blends of the sunsets I know. I was being my usual wallflower self, hearing but not quite listening to the indecipherable dialogue. Generally content.

For whatever reason, I decided to take a walk back to the previously non existent house. As I walked, I remembered the house and the house became. It was her house. I realized we were hanging by her house. As I remembered who she was, I was in her house and there she was. The familiar house in retrospect was my own. I don't know why my subconscious gave it to her. It just did.

I liked her. Everything about her. But she wasn't actually anyone I knew. If you've watched 'A Scanner Darkly' you'd be familiar with the scramble suit which hid agents' identities but to us, the audience, was a rapidly changing and sometimes mixed image of  persons. That's who she was. Every woman I'm attracted to right now. All at the same time.

In my-her house there was Mix Girl's parents and a few more faceless friends by the kitchen. Probably eating and drinking. My subconscious considered it unimportant. I exchanged some mute words with her father for a little until he left with his wife to another section of the house. The room we were in was both living room and kitchen/dining room arranged side in the halves of one big rectangle. The living room was closer to the front door with chairs arranged all about. The sofa, which in waking reality is a love seat, faces the door. Now, I don't have 'game'. This would be very atypical of an introvert. But now me and Mix Girl were on that sofa and we were about to talk.

Noise outside interrupted us before we even began and I got up to investigate. The friends from the street had just carried someone who was having some type of breathing problems and laid her near the door. She was an old classmate. The only person I clearly recognized in the dream. She was already feeling better, luckily, and I stayed by her for a bit.

We talked a little about how our peers have been changing. Some of us are getting married, having kids and a few are about to add a 'Doctor' to their names. We built good rapport. But just as I seem to do with anyone I unintentionally start getting close to, I essentially run away. I wished her well and headed back inside.

The last thing I remember was stepping inside and seeing Mix Girl still sitting alone. The moment I stepped in,  my point of view switched to behind the sofa, seeing the back of her head and I saw myself, standing at the door, looking at her. Then I woke up.

The reason I managed to remember all this is because, as I woke up that morning and tried to recall the dream, one thing really struck me. I remembered the classmate I spoke to passed away 3 years ago. The images of the dream were more cemented when I retold it to my friend who always gets everything. I started to realize how strange it felt that when I try to explain something I previously said to her, she not only understood but had already given a thoughtful response. Strange in a good way of course.

I'm not sure what it means seeing my deceased friend but what I took from the rest of the dream was the need for me to not only take action, but to put some effort into it. I haven't seen many of my friends in a long time but it's within my power to change that. There are things that I probably thought would fall into place with time but I can't rely on that. The cure that Carl Jung suggested for the puer aeternus is work.

“Work is the one disagreeable word which no puer aeternus likes to hear, and Dr. Jung came to the conclusion that it was the right answer.”

My own mind has been telling me this and it's way past time I listened. I've taken steps. I'm still far from what I wanted but now I can see the next step in my path. I'm stepping out of a haze, I'm more determined to work than I have in as long as I can recall. For that I am happy

Now Playing: Frank Ocean - 'Wiseman'

  

考え

work harder

Firefly

photo by David Backes

There was a firefly in my room for some months. I mentioned it on twitter the first time I saw it, of course. Interestingly, I only really notice it when I'm at my weariest. Once, I tried leaving my bedroom door open in the hopes that it would find its way out. If not back to nature, at least out of my domain. I still saw it a few times after that and only when my room was at its darkest and still when my body is at its weakest.

On the early, after midnight - pre-sunrise, morning of January 2 2013, I was ready to descend into a glorious food coma when I saw the bug flashing again. It seemed more pathetic this time. Isolation wasn't doing it any favours. It drifted across my line of sight to the bare wall in my room opposite my single window and blinked a bit in the corner near the door.

I rushed to turn on my bedside/desk lamp mock-up in the hopes of catching the thing to free it. By the time I was standing where I last saw it, it disappeared. I stood there for a little while, just staring in the corner thinking: "Is this schizophrenia? Is this firefly a symptom of some kind of psychosis I've developed?"

As I was turning around to head back to bed I spotted the firefly further along the wall, closer to the opposite corner. It was a bit small so I was worried I might crush it if I tried to hold it directly. I rummaged through the junk in my room and found a small plastic container to coax it into. Capping the container with one hand then picking up my keys with the other, I walked triumphantly to the front door.

Outside I gave the container a shake but I could still see that black spot in the container's white lining so I moved closer to the potted flowers on the veranda for another, harder shake. At first I didn't see any sign of it, which at least that meant it definitely wasn't in the container anymore. As I was turning to go back in I briefly glanced some rapid flashing in a flower pot.

It was free! I was free. I felt truly, and to me, strangely happy for this simple thing and I actually pulled off a smile. For an instant, again I thought: "Is this schizophrenia? Is this firefly a symptom of some kind of psychosis I've developed?" but then I wondered if maybe this experience was supposed to have some deeper more positive meaning.

Silly thoughts and unimportant experiences maybe, but 20-baker's dozen might just turn out to be something special. Let's hope.

Now Playing: Ed Sheeran 'Firefly'

考え
Hey, you,.I probably want you to do a guest post

Splints

A poem! Haven't finished one of these in years. No preview 4 you !!!!!!!!

feather and water by Paul G

A poem! Haven't finished one of these in years. No preview 4 you !!!!!!!!

I'm drawn to the bird with the broken wing
Its ruffled feathers imply rare vulnerability
It's bittersweet songs permeate my mind
This therapy I've developed is my applause
I provide splints and care for songs I'd never sing

Eventually, it'll heal and fly again
They never stay
I wouldn't want them to
My time for a stain on their memories
I provide the splints and care to not be forgotten

Now Playing - Blackbird by The Beatles 

Treading Water

Who pays attention to these tweets?

I love AlunaGeorge's 'Your Drums, Your love' music video. The subject of which is two people of questionable romantic status who run into each other at an art gallery featuring work from Arran Gregory. It just so happened that everyone else there appeared to be choreographed dancers, popping and locking and framing the couple. The contrast between the dancers and the subtler movements of the two main players was enjoyable and never too distracting to me. Aluna's dress, on the other hand, actually drew my attention a few times watching the video. Along with the forced perspective necklace, shoes and bag all of which she wore damn well.

Of course, I connect with the song itself too. Not because I can directly relate to the singer's point of view but because I knew someone who probably could. These words could have been directed my way. One doesn't build an ego from such things though. It's a heavy feeling and not one I readily invite.

I think I've seen this song silently play out. Most people retrospectively recognize the one that got away. But I've been in, what I'm sure is, a rare situation where I realized what I could possibly be letting go of before it happened. Yet I still let it happen. I was scared. Fear is an emotion that has destroyed many an opportunity in my life. So... nothing new, really.

考え

I'm sorry, happy belated

The Perks of Good Behaviour

"He was on his best behaviour, but that wasn't  good enough."

That's the prompt I've been mostly thinking about writing on for the past few weeks. I've put words down, edited, scrapped, ignored and given up on what I wrote. I haven't figured out how to make a narrative appear and I still don't think I fully understand the concept of prose but I did attempt both. Whatever follows is just whatever flowed from my mind, later organized for verbal cohesiveness with as little deletion as I could bear.

He finds himself pacing the floor. As he paces either his hands are containing something unseen coming from his head or his fingers feeling around for air like a crawling bug's legs. Every thought buried at the back of his mind appears to be fighting to escape their box as if reacting to Pandora's presence. It's like he finally ran out of space to suppress them in. This creates noise in his head. An unequivocal cacophony. Sometimes he presses himself against the burglar bars on the single window in his bedroom. Because, obviously, it's the freshest air there is and there's no other way to get to it. He googles "panic attack" and is somewhat relieved at his discovery, he's not unique. Then he has another.

He doesn't know what to do with his life. He can't afford the college he applied to and doesn't know how to call it off. He has an anxiety attack every time he thinks of calling Canada to figure out how. The fees are due next week. He has an attack whenever he thinks of how his degree feels useless to him. He's attacked every time he sees no marketable skills to put on his resume. Just promise and he doesn't know how to wield that.

In an effort to shut the noise out, his phone has been in flight mode since Thursday. It's Monday. He doubted anybody would call anyway but his phone is capable of other means of contact and since he still wants to listen to music, off isn't an option. He needs to hear Kendrick's new album on the go between his room and the kitchen. Sometimes even as far as the back yard. He didn't want to go anywhere else for a while. Kendrick's a great storyteller.

He hasn't been on facebook. He hasn't been on twitter. He's kept every chat app he has closed. Seeing people living with any modecum of purpose despite not having life figured out while he just sits there depresses him. Thinking about the obvious responses to his quagmire depresses him too so he'll just have none of that. Any of that. He visits tumblr though. Nobody bothers him there as he curates what he perceives to be beautiful things. He did notice via email that someone he values DM'ed needing a book returned but that's it. In retrospect, that book could be helping him too. Regardless he hopes they can shift their paradigm.

He decides that he would open up channels of communication on meeting an ultimatum. Only after he acted on this prompt. The one he said he would. That's the only way he can motivate himself these days, with an conditions, and even that only works sometimes. Nobody pushed him in general very much. He was never a nuisance and was easily out of mind. Although he doesn't blame others completely for his outcome.

He was on his best behaviour, but that wasn't good enough. He always was. Despite good behaviour never getting him anything besides patronizing. It never let him make mistakes. He didn't get the chance to learn from the errors and become a fully functioning adult.  At least this one thing will be done. Who knows, maybe somebody actually wanted to reach him these past days with something that doesn't make him angry. He's easily angered nowadays but he doesn't quite know why.

Now Playing 'Red Face' - Lucy Rose

Red Face by Lucy Rose

考え

I still haven't quite figured paragraphs out

An Epistle to Me Circa 5 Years Ago

This is you in 5 years. You're 24 now, bones creaking, bad back and exaggerating slightly. Life isn't exactly amazing but hey, we're not dead.You still live with your family but at least we've finally moved. The house is really nice. Your room's much bigger. The yard is dangerous to your health but we never spend much time outside anyway. You're unemployed but you have had some employment over the years. Your love life: well.... You generally have even less figured out at this point or maybe life is just more complicated.

You rarely drink now. I guess it was just a college thing. You do graduate in 2009 but after an additional summer semester. You couldn't afford to be one of those career students anyway. You fail the class of the first teacher you ever truly dislike. You hate your degree now too. You've effectively not used it since you graduated. All those letters you send out for jobs don't help. Maybe send more. Maybe sooner.

You'll have one girlfriend in the 5 years and it'll be long distance... again. It won't last long but you never ask for much so you don't regret the experiential surplus. You've suppressed most of whatever romanticism was left in you and haven't sought a relationship since. You're trying to figure out you. You'll see a movie called "500 Days of Summer" it becomes your favourite. Along with others like 'High Fidelity', 'J'eux D'enfants', 'Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind' and 'Garden State'. It takes a while for you to notice a pattern. Nowadays you crush on women you'll never have a relationship with but you're OK with this. At least you won't ever misplace hopes, you just appreciate the beauty from afar. Tragic, maybe, but you'll understand why.

You've gotten even more reclusive now being away from some of the great people you met in what you'll consider the best 3 years of your life. Nowadays you use fancy words like "introversion" and "introspection" a lot. Going out any at all takes a chunk out of whatever you have saved but you do it anyway. Good on ya. It keeps you sane. Most of the people you know have spread all over the Western Hemisphere. Migrated, working or furthering their education. Old classmates are having kids and getting married too. Crazy ass people.

You start a blog. This one, in fact. It's beautiful and pretty creative, at least to you. It's not read by a whole lot of people but it's your baby. You promise never to completely abandon it and you haven't. You haven't added to it recently but it's always on your mind. You decided to take a 1 month break a while back. It's been 7 months. You have plans now though and this is the first of it all.

You'll buy yourself a pretty great camera in 2010. Not quite a DSLR but it's a start. It has 20X zoom, which is the most amazing thing at the time. No, you've never used it to spy on anybody. Your skills develop gradually and you learn an amazing amount but you haven't met that standard you set for yourself quite yet. You'll continue to master your tool anyway. You'll meet some pretty cool people because of photography. At least online.

One of the jobs you get is as a teacher. I know and yes, I know.Teaching is as bad as you thought it would be but just as you thought, you learned a lot from the whole experience. You dislike teenagers in general even less now. It's weird working alongside the persons who taught you in the realm of awkwardness that was your high school and you never really get comfortable there. It's only temporary so as soon as you're free, you run. You try not to look back but it feels like that place pulls you back in. It's hard to avoid it.

By now you're pretty much convinced you have ADD but you've powered through that and read around 5 books this year so far. A new record! You'll soon add some more to that too, I'm sure. Maybe you'll write some more - create more in general. That's the plan at least.

You're half on a panic attack every time you truly look at the state of your life though. It's hard. Your mind feels like a storm sometimes. but you're still here and you can still make some big change or choice or... something. After all, you're 24 now. That should mean something, right?

I should probably close with some advice. You won't follow it but it won't hurt to write it down anyway. Nothing specific, just general life stuff: Smile more. You'll be able to do that on demand by the time you have to take your graduation picture. Stop taking yourself so seriously. Stop being so calculated and exaggerate a little now and then. Sleep more but wake up before noon. Eat more fruits and vegetables. Remember the mantra: "This too shall pass".

See you in 5 years,
Jermaine

Now Playing

Frank Ocean - 'White'

考え
"...I forget 23, like I forget 17...", Frank Ocean's pretty cool. You'll like him

Lonely vs Alone

You know what's the worst kind of loneliness? My guess is that it's the loneliness of an introvert. The loneliness of someone who can feel alone in a crowd. The sad thing is that the introvert tends to steadily build a wall around them, so if one starts digging themselves into a lonely hole, they might start to lose themselves.

The solution: learn how to be alone again. Yes, you're there already but you're doing it wrong. If you learn to be content with yourself, you'd be surprised at how those walls will break down. They'll deteriorate and fall because you won't need them anymore. You'll rise from that hole and you'll learn how to be happy with yourself alone and be happy with yourself alone, in a crowd.

考え

You're never alone in being alone

The Epiphany

Another Night by Jermaine Headley

"I fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom."

Heinrich Heine

I was having another night staying up doing nothing important. Just finished watching Defranco Does Dublin  and I was thinking I should probably go to sleep now. Buuuut.... just didn't wanna... Why  though?

Suddenly, BOOM! I remembered a few nights ago I actually did go to bed early when I had not much else to do. Or rather I went "to sleep", going "to bed" with my laptop on is a different situation. Point is, I couldn't sleep. I had my eyes closed, lying in bed for what seemed like at least over an hour. Maybe two.

It was finally all kind of clear. This is why I stay up all the time. It's hard to fall asleep unless my eyes get too heavy to keep open. Armed with new knowledge, the question is no longer "why don't I want to go to sleep at night?" and is instead "why do I find it so hard to fall asleep?". Inconsequential to most I'm sure but for me... GROWTH!

Sleep, my love, we can fix this! We can make it work!

Now Playing:

考え

Yea I'm back, yes that's by me

The Dream Mixtape, Hello Again

photo by Mikko Miettinen

Oh, I haven't forgotten about the blog and haven't abandoned it. In fact I return so often. I just couldn't push myself to create more regardless of the ideas I had.

This blog became work. Your blog should never be considered work or it's bound to fail. Rather than force myself to produce something, I waited & allowed myself to dream again.

I created this for my newest post and I was going to add so much more then I realized I was falling into the same trap that caused the extended absence. I'm not going to pad it and make it look like more than it is. I have it so I'll present it.

Here I present to you an idea I've had swirling around in my head for at least over 9 months now, The Dream Mixtape.

The Dream Mixtape by kyoudai



Tracklist:

Shinedown - The Dream
Fiona Apple - Sleep to Dream
Keane - A Bad Dream
Priscilla Ahn - Dream
Cut Copy - A Dream
Empire of the Sun - Walking on a Dream
KiD CuDi - In My Dreams (Cudder Anthem)
Armor For Sleep - Dream to Make Believe
Jazmine Sullivan - Dream Big
Lupe Fiasco featuring Jill Scott- Daydreamin'
Aerosmith - Dream On
bonus Queen Ifrica - In My Dreams bonus
samples from Street Fighter and Nature Feels by Frank Ocean

"Cherish your vision and your dreams as they are the children of your soul; the blueprints of your ultimate achievements. "

Napoleon Hill



考え

Mentor Needed, Apply Within

photo by Denis Collete

“Mentor: Someone whose hindsight can become your foresight”

Guide needed for socially misguided youth who needs help figuring out humans as social beings. Pay?: "It's own reward"?

Awkward...

I lag behind when it comes to social situations. I can relate to Socially Awkward Penguin way too often. I'm introverted so I know I will never really be a socialite. That's not what I want to be anyway; I only need to at least learn how to react in common social situations, right?

I lived in isolated environments for most of my life, which I assume helped to form my personality. I grew to love it even though it lead to less social interactions than I probably needed when I was younger. Social interactions that, might I add, can teach you certain things.

I realized recently that I'm the youngest person on the main staff at my work place. In many situations there's a generation gap but there's a little something else. A level of social interaction that I missed the lesson on, constantly reaffirming my naivete.

Which Button Makes Me Social?

I never had somebody that I really wanted to be like at any point in my life; I had nobody to emulate. I thrust myself into social situations and hope I figure out how to swim. Luckily, I float along but there's always some key I'm missing. A key that I'm sure one can't figure out on their own.

I've had to socialize myself, pretty much. I picked and chose stray parts for my enigma of a personality from experiences I never quite got right or things I saw on tv. I have no strict personal code. I'm way too tolerant of everything. I let little things get to me. And don't get me started on this concept of amorous love. I'm not completely sure what I stand for and you know where that leads...

This Looks Like a Job For..

That's why I think I need some kind of guru to point me in the right direction. I'm relatively young and I know there are people older than me who've been past this. I'm seeking somebody to impart their hindsight. Applications are open. Seriously (kind of)... email on the about page

Now Playing:

Young Blood - The Naked and Famous

考え

But really... 

Discvry of Cvrbrthrs

"The mark of highest originality lies in the ability to develop a familiar idea so fruitfully that it would seem no one else would ever have discovered so much to be hidden in it."

Johann von Goethe

Possibilities But...

"The only limits to the possibilities in your life tomorrow are the buts you use today."

Les Brown

Stronger Than You Think

photo by Clint Koehler

"A great deal of talent is lost to the world for want of a little courage. Every day sends to their graves obscure men whose timidity prevented them from making a first effort."

Sydney Smith

Everything

photo by Sidious Sid

"If we don't see a failure as a challenge to modify our approach, but rather as a problem with ourselves, as a personality defect, we will immediately feel overwhelmed." 

Anthony Robbins

Reset

photo by Tom Klaver

"Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up."

Pearl Buck

Validation

"The primary joy of life is acceptance, approval, the sense of appreciation and companionship of our human comrades. Many men do not understand that the need for fellowship is really as deep as the need for food, and so they go through life accepting many substitutes for genuine, warm, simple relatedness. "

Joshua Loth Liebman

Wise Men Reworded

photo by Kenny Louie

Many people do live by the words of others. However, words are and always will be simply that: words. They can be interpreted, misinterpreted and reinterpreted. These words can be rewritten by those who want to pave a new path, building on the foundations of the wise before them.

Wise Men Said...

photo by Susan Corpuz

Wise men say wise words that will be recounted endlessly. One can often live by one mans words, a single thing that one person said to illustrate his own thoughts or experiences. Just a few short words can affect one person profoundly. It may be a simple, beautiful or witty metaphor or something that helps you define your beliefs.