Time waits for no one

Here it is, that blinking cursor taunting and tantalizing the writer inside me at the same time. Like a clock on the wall with its hand running along perpetually chasing the end of the battery life in the middle of the night not allowing you to sleep. Cept the blinking cursor can either be a curse or your best friend once the letters start moving that blinking line falling in sync with the loud ticking noise that only grows louder as each second passes stealing any chance of sleep you thought you were about to get. I replaced the wall clock to a silent ticker. Something about that incessant ticking just really bothers me some nights. Somehow though there’s still a ticking clock outside in the back patio. That isn’t my patio because I’m just a person residing in someone else’s house. An unwanted guest of unconditional love. An onyx goat who’s lost and needs to find the obsidian sheep and the rest of the herd.

I think back to sitting at a left turn light, wanting my car’s blinker to match directly on beat as the car in front of me’s blinker. It never works no matter how many times I spontaneously and haphazardly spawn that random thought in my head while at a left turn light.

Can you tell I haven’t the slightest clue what to write about?

I hung out with some good friends of mine this past July 4th, and while I had an ok time, I don’t know what it was… something was missing, you know that feeling when your leaving somewhere and you feel like you’ve left something behind but you don’t even know what?

Maybe that’s not even an accurate analogy. The feeling I’m feeling is at the moment hard to describe. Maybe it’s not even hard to describe but I’m using that as an excuse to string myself along for the ride. Including you, reader. Almost like a mild form of depression or something.

A lot of broken promises to myself. A lot of procrastination leading to boredom, leading to unfulfilled dreams and passions that’s collected dust and cobwebs over the past couple months. A lot of unnecessary over thinking.

Personas

Most of my life, I’ve always seen myself in other personas. I’ve always come up with a nickname to escape my personal identity. I never liked that person. I associated too much pain in that person. I always wanted to escape reality as much as I could. Whether it was through video games, rave names, dj names, aol instant messenger, Instagram handles, whatever have you, and in a sense I still do. It’s completely ingrained into me. Mostly out of a space of fear initially right, because for some or maybe even a fair portion of us, we just want to be someone else or something else.

Because, why should I have to own the name that wasn’t even mine to choose, why should I, like the name my parents chose for me, when they weren’t even present for my childhood or most of it, anyway? Even today right now, though already I’ve accepted my name, and it took a whole 3 decades to do so, I still don’t really use my given name. But that’s besides the point, maybe some of you agree?

Personas have been a powerful thing for me, it was a form of medium for vision. For character building. Before I became a DJ I already said in my mind I was, I even went as far as printing out business cards that said I was a DJ on it and passing them out even though I had no idea how to DJ. But it totally manifested into reality in my life.

I use this now in my current days I create a title for myself, I call myself a writer but what do I really know about writing? Perhaps slim to none, but as I call myself that, I begin to see it and I begin to believe it, and as I’m going through the process it starts to become solidified into the essence of my being. It starts to flower into my intuition and creative space. I start to manifest the creative people working in the same sphere. There’s probably books written about this method, and explained in great detail.

I’m not learned in the mechanics of how or why creating a persona works for me, but through actual experience this has been true for me. Maybe this could work for you as well? Who do you see yourself as?

Dissonance

Where does one find inspiration to write? Is it in the books that we read? Is it meeting a homeless person on the street and caring enough to even say hi, how you doing, getting to know them, giving them more than 1$, giving them a full meal and having a heart felt conversation?

Does one find inspiration from the dissonance that happens in a persons life and then write about that? Do you have a fight or an argument with someone and then write down all your frustrations and anger and release all the thoughts of fear onto a medium? Is when you sit there and try hard to write something that has a bit a prose, digging deep into the thesaurus or dictionary, and referencing favorite authors to dig deeper into the creative writing space using parts of your brain you don’t normally use to get through the mundane workings of “normal” everyday life?

Finding your voice is definitely an every changing puzzle. Its like once you complete certain little puzzles, the puzzle gets bigger and more convoluted. There is always room for improvement especially when your first starting out it seems. “A friend once told me, your never gonna be at where you want to be, but you gotta remind yourself, you aren’t where you used to be. So give yourself credit once in a while.” I actually agree with this, and I feel it is an important process, even though it may feel like conceited or coming from a space of ego, but it really isn’t in my opinion, its more like congratulating yourself because you made it this far. Its more like a private victory that you share with your self because your going through the motions. Its more like you got up, you faced your anxiety, your fear, your loneliness, your depression, your whatever the fuck it is, call it the EGO, call it the FEAR BASED BEING that has shaped you for the past how many ever years. BUT hey! Your here, your reading this, your writing, your acting, your singing, your gaming, or doing whatever it is thats allowing you to grow. OR maybe you’re not. BUT your still alive, which means you STILL have a chance, you still can cut those old circles of friends off that isn’t growing you, and if you don’t have many friends, well you CAN, face your fears and get out of that comfort zone and go learn how, (or you can friend me, I’m always looking for new growth buddies lol.) you CAN quit that nasty cigarette habit, by replacing it with some new habits.

Thing is, I don’t even know what I’m doing with this blog, and probably neither will all of humanity when they first start things. BUT I do feel a pull, and eventually you’ll get that one person that acknowledges what you’re doing, and gives you dabs. Like for example, I totally randomly found this person named Anh’s blog and it HELLA inspired me to write because her prose was so on point yanno? So I left a comment and I started following her. And you know what, SHE READ SOME OF MY POSTS, and sent me a COMMENT, a RESPONSE, and I was ABSOLUTELY baffled. I couldn’t even believe what I was reading, it was an actual comment from an actual person with real feelings and a voice and she stepped out of her zone to say something about. My writing. I mean WHAT?

Anyway, I guess just keep pushing, in a nut shell, is what I’m trying to say. I think its a lot easier for me to just say fuck it and post whatever it is thats on my mind on this blogging site, because in all reality only like 2 people I know in real life, know about this blog. I feel like I can just be myself here. Where as in real life my ego feels like it needs to protect who I was in the past so these people around me don’t judge me. I’m slowly getting over that way of thinking, because to be honest, someone once told me while I was locked up, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

I just googled that quote and apparently its from Dr. Seuss lol. Have a blessed day y’all.

Progression

So I’ve been doing this thing lately, I learned it from a podcast I was listening to. I’ve set three alarms on my phone and labeled the alarms as actual affirmations and little reminders to be creative throughout the day. I have one set at 7 pm PST, it says, write a blog post, write a poem. Of course I should probably adjust this timing maybe? I don’t always follow through with it. As of late though I have been able to come through, I think probably twice.

So anyway, I think in the last blog post I was talking about my friend whom I went with to this so called “Mountain of Truth”, anyway it was here that I found my passion for writing, but I hadn’t even known it yet at the time. To be honest, now that I really think about it, my writing stemmed from when I was a child. My mother, wasn’t actually what you would call the run if the mill mother. That in itself is a whole entire other blog post, maybe a few. Anyway, the earliest memory of me really getting into writing was probably when I was an 8th grader, and my mother at the time was going out with this guy who worked at the casino where she was working at. So they were hookin up or whatever, but I didn’t know that at the time.

I come home from 7th grade spring break and she tells me to pack my bags, and that we were going to Vegas. So I pack some clothes and left all my things. We never came back to California.

Story for another blog post.

So fast forward, I’m in Michigan, living in an apartment with my mom and her bf or whatever the fuck title he held at the time. And well I didn’t have friends, and we didn’t have much money let alone afford a tv, eventually they got one and working cable even. But before that I had nothing but a notebook and a pen, and comic books that I borrowed from the library that was a 3 mile walk away. I would walk there every day just to log onto the internet for an hour and then read comic books because back then I wasn’t into actual books. Shame because nowadays its harder to find more free time to read a good book.

Its like Jim Kwik says, “…its no longer self-help, its shelf-help.” Lol so lately I’ve been trying to get my friends to read more and its not working. I guess they gotta want it for themselves bad enough to make that change.

For the sake of mastery.

Ever get intimidated by just the thought of writing something just for the sake of writing? I most certainly do. Especially when it’s for an online medium right? Because wow people might read this! Actual people? I dunno maybe. And then I struggle with the fact that people may not even read it.

Then my ego steps in and pretty soon you don’t write anything at all! Because my Ego says, “yo your writing can’t compare to all these people who’ve been doing it for years.” “Yo no one’s gonna read your entries, you won’t even matter to the billions of people who are already following those who inspire them.”

Eh I guess that used to my old mindset, not that I don’t revisit that same old mindset every once in a while. It’s just been so ingrained into my way of thinking, I think I’m still in the process of unlearning old ways of thinking and building on a new process of how I tackle daily life.

My ego gets fed though because I add these little tags to my wordpress post and random strangers who are building blogs or want to generate more traffic to their sites give me a sense of… well people digging the stuff that I’ve been writing about. It gives me a sense of validation in this world. My ego is fed just enough for me to keep posting.

But these days I tend to just not care about that aspect too much anymore, I just want to post consistently so that I can grow my self as a writer. Then maybe eventually I can post something worthwhile? At least to myself right, because every writer who spends a lengthy amount of time coming up with words to paint a picture on a page is probably proud of their own progress at some point. At some point you go, ” Wait wow, did I just write that? I actually sound a bit intelligent.” So your ego strokes your brains dopamine or seratonin or whatever happens that triggers some kind of pleasure zone in your brain, and your like dude let me re-read that again, and again, and again.

You start to want to share this with anyone who will even listen or read your most private most vulnerable thoughts, in high hopes you will get some sort of feed back, that in some way your writings, your musings, will inspire someone, or provoke some kind of feelings out of them.

I actually didn’t fully realize that there could be a passion in writing for me. It wasn’t until one of my good friends was going through a really tough battle with heroin and reached out to me, that for the first time writing became a viable passion for me.

My good friend was on a kick from one of the worst substances to get addicted to, and he came to me for help. I really didn’t know what to do, but I know I really wanted to help him out of the situation, so in a desperate attempt to help him out I hit up a friend of mine who was from the Bay Area and drove out to Concord near San Francisco, he offered us a spot to chill for a couple weeks!

We drove north to his house up in Hoopa Valley 5 hours north of San Francisco, my friend and I named that place the mountain of truth. There we ate packets of ramen noodles and baked potatoes for 2 weeks and created. After that day I also got into writing… I’ll finish this in another post.

Muse

The inner muse is hard to describe, it’s a growing process much like planting a seed inside your heart and mind and watering it with consistent thoughts of creative growth. Probably the most important part of that process is actualizing it on a medium where you can get your creative process recorded.

Perhaps that is actually what I intend for this “blog” of mine. To enter a space where I can feel comfortable sharing my inner most thoughts and at the same time increasing the depth of which I can write to fully express deeper sentiments. To find my voice in this busy world I suppose.

I say I am a writer, and a budding one at that, but most days I am conflicted on my prose and literary concepts? I always feel like my writing isn’t up to par enough with the writers around me, and that in itself is just a self limiting belief. Truly just getting out of the comfort zone and putting words on a page every day would be enough to form and sculpt my writing skills I guess.

Universe

Her eyes lit up my soul like the northern lights, before I met her, my life was a morbid sight, now I bask in the blanket of her warmest vibes, my heart gallops like the way horses ride, I’m lit up like a couple planets as their core’s collide, BOOM, I’m lost in the labyrinth of her eyes its like I need a tourist guide, to navigate through that beautiful forest of a mind, finding the courage to align, my eyes with hers, my soul is perched on a tree branch inside of her cortex, connecting \with each synapse poses a question, where will my soul, soar next? She fills up every void, every orifice of my heart that used to be dormant, when she speaks it permeate my being like a church organ, inner spirits dance to the cadence of her beating heart against mine, flooding me with so much love and encouragement, I can only take it in small portions, otherwise I might kiss the ground and forfeit, my posture, my balance, she leaves me like wet noodles against the torrent, of enormous Tsunamis crashing down to create ripples of love to diminish any torment, within me,

Magnanimous is her aura as she speaks the language of growth the size of jack’s bean stalk, creating a ladder of peace and ascension too help me battle with the demons of mediocrity, NEVER HAVE I EVER, found a love so pure, so kind, so understanding, and so PATIENT, allowing me to be the most inspiring, creative and courageous, person that I can be to cure the toxic derangement of those still asleep and chasing the false image of perfection or those fleeing from arraignment of what it means to have a certain “image” creating self-doubt, limitations and the consumption of beauty products to look like a certain “lineage”, but let me digress back to the natural beauty of her soul,

she constantly reminds me to relinquish the evil ego, she rises up as the sun to bring warmth and light to all my beautiful peoples, enlightening through her silence, when we meditate to elevate and appreciate the vibrance of her nature, blowing kisses of inspiration that flows from my mind rhythmic as a river into the pen and onto this piece of paper, raining though bubbles that accost troubles, she sparks my curiosity enough then to solve puzzles, she brings new challenges and growth that I once to see as struggles, what used to be a tug o war is now positive energy activating constant elevation. peace. She is the refreshing feeling of a breeze, on a hot summer day, she is the feeling of self love and the ability to achieve, anything that you believe, she is whispering about a seed, planted that sprouts into a dream manifested into reality that can feel freeing, she is the calm between storms, and whole plants being reborn, when she breathes fire from within her deep core, she is the oldest and truest love lasting through terraforms and maelstroms and even when meteors are thrown lighting up the atmosphere, her capacity for love is much more than all the galaxies combined to bring the whole human cast to tears, she is the stars the moon the stratosphere and the heavens combined, she is all the zodiac signs aligned in the vast expanse of space coming through like a super nova she is super karmic when her sutras hold ya, she is everything known and everything unknown, wait who is she?