Hellow

hel·low (ˈhelō/) exclamation. A salutation embodying the vibrant energy found in the color yellow.

30 March 2012

Insecurity Blanket

Babies are born and immediately wrapped up in a security blanket to keep them warm and clean. As a child, they are given a blanket and stuffed animals to comfort them and provide security when not in their mother's arms. Once childhood is left behind and they become teenagers, the need for security does not go away. They search for friends, and acquire them at all costs. They shed their personal identity in return for social security. They want someone to lean on, someone to support them through the challenges of growing up. They need a blanket to hide their insecurities. Humans are social creatures so one of the greatest feelings of security is achieved in a group of other people. However, in order to be accepted into that group, they conform to their customs. They wear the same clothes, speak the same things, and find "interest" with the collective. In order to feel secure, people need to wear a mask. An insecurity blanket. Maybe this comes in the form of makeup, a layer of disguise to hide their truest form. Maybe this comes in the form of alcohol, a potion to break down their sense and set aside the moral compass. Maybe this comes in the form of a pseudo-smile, acting bubbly and chipper on the outside while the inside wilts in weeping. It is pointless.
Stop hiding behind that mask. You are beautiful.
Stop looking for someone to lean on. You have two feet.
Stop hugging your insecurity blanket. You don't need it.

28 March 2012

26 March 2012

Afraid of the Dark?

Get in a jet and fly west. Keep flying west. Prolong the day, eternally, and you will never face the night. Not once will you see the sky turn black. If you follow the sun, you will leave the darkness in your wake. Don't look back to face it. Never turn around. Until you run out of fuel and have to fill up your tank. Make it quick, because the sun keeps twisting around the globe. Stretching the darkness, like a canvas, in its trail as it runs about the surface. Get back in the air and keep following the light. It is a continual journey with no destination. A flight from the night. Moving to avoid, not to attain. A trek to survive. Live in the day, and never face your fear. This is what you must do.

Or get a nightlight.

23 March 2012

Squirrels Have It Made

Squirrel outside my window, you have it made. While I stare over the mountain of documents before me, confined to my chair, you dangle from the limber limbs of that blossoming tree. Your sharp claws adhere you to the wood and allow you to travel wherever your little heart desires. I love climbing trees, but you taunt my limitations. You and all your little squirrel friends dance up and down the branches, your cheeks inflated with gathered food.  If you want something, you go up and snatch it. If I want something, I have to weigh the opportunity costs and benefits, the pros and the cons, before legally giving away money or time to achieve it. You can rob banks, stealing the seeds of birds, without consequence. You don't have to worry about anything more than life itself, your small brain focusing only on making it through to the next day. I sit here and dwell on the things that frustrate me and gnaw away my fingernails as I fret about the future. If given the opportunity to trade lives, I may gladly accept that offer. Being at the top of the food chain isn't all its cracked up to be.

21 March 2012

The Grass is Very Green

Some say the grass is greenest in the places they cannot be
But from where I am now, I would have to disagree
Beneath my toes and across the road, the grass is the same
Equally bright and lively, putting me to shame
Awhile ago, my life was more bright
The grass was green but it wasn't in sight
I did not believe I had the best lawn
So it left me as suddenly as a yawn
Now I can sit in the grass
And appreciate its class
It may not be the most green
Nor the best I have seen
But it is beautiful nonetheless
So I smile and abandon my stress.

18 March 2012

Altered Version of Nkisi Nkondi


An African tribe used to nail sharp object into a wooden figure to keep track of trading and negotiations. Could this method of record-keeping be adapted for other things? Releasing emotions on a block of wood with a hammer is rather therapeutic.

17 March 2012

Sui Generis

\su-i-je-ne-res\ adj: constituting a class alone; unique or peculiar

Why do so many people want to be this? Why does everyone want to separate themselves from the masses of the human race and become their own species, independent of fellow man? What makes so many of us humans believe we are so individually extraordinary? Perhaps it is the rising population, as estimates in the near future plan to break the 9 billion mark. With so many of our kind coming into existence, we do not want to be lost in the crowd. One does not wish to become a pixel on a far-encompassing screen that comprises an image of the human form. We are one people. But each one of us wants to be our own person. We want to be sui generis. However, that cannot be accomplished in a group. In order to achieve this ultimate separation, there are but two options: rise or fall. Falling takes little effort, and is therefore the default mode of separation from the human race. To begin this, one must learn to become unhuman. An individual must shed the flaws of man and become an inner beast, reverting back to forms of pre-evolution. In doing so, the individual would not achieve the honor defined by sui generis, for they merely become a lower form of life--at least determined by human perception. Although no form of life is any greater or lesser than another, one cannot become the definition created by man, for of words, the human race is the deciding force. Therefore, in order to truly achieve the befitting definition of sui generis, one must rise. This also involves a dehumanization process. Considering humans are innately flawed creatures, the most difficult method of achieving sui generis is eradicating the flaws. Very few men have achieved this, as character flaws and imperfections are so deeply engrained in the human race, like Internet Explorer on Windows computers. It takes a thorough cleansing to completely transform into the unique and peculiar individual that can constitute a class all his own.
Before digesting this information, I would like to ask of you, reader, to take this with a grain of salt, as I, the author, am human.

14 March 2012

3.141592654...

Happy Pi Day!
 [March 14, 2012]
3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986
280348253421170679821480865132823066470938446095505822317253594081284811174502841027
019385211055596446229489549303819644288109756659334461284756482337867831652712019091
456485669234603486104543266482133936072602491412737245870066063155881748815209209628
292540917153643678925903600113305305488204665213841469519415116094330572703657595919
530921861173819326117931051185480744623799627495673518857527248912279381830119491298
336733624406566430860213949463952247371907021798609437027705392171762931767523846748
184676694051320005681271452635608277857713427577896091736371787214684409012249534301
4654958537105079227968925892354201995611212902196086403441815981362977477…

And the wonders of this essential and irrational number go on. And on. Forever. No wonder it gets its own holiday!
So pay tribute to the number that makes the circle of life possible, at approximately 1:59 and 26 seconds today.

08 March 2012

The Business Student

The beautiful face stared back behind the glass. Deep brown eyes gazed longingly into mine. So gorgeous. Brown hair, lying perfectly, without the slightest work of comb or brush. An excellent nose. Amazing lips. Helluva smile. Perfect ten. No, twelve. Nah, let's say an eight. Looks modest. Adds to attractiveness. Heck, what should I care? Already such a charming and flawless personality. People laugh with you all the time. Everyone wants to be you. Or with you. Just any opportunity to reach out and stroke that flawless skin...God. Thank you, actually, you've given me everything. Just the ability to stare upon this impeccable being is motivation to keep living. I gaze back through the glass and smiled. If only I could have you...so smart. So talented. A mind and body far surpassing all others. They all praise you. They beg on their knees for you. Its just the cross you have to bear, isn't it? Being alive for the world to enjoy. Don't look so unassuming. Be proud. You're the best thing in the world. You can move mountains. Everyone knows it. You read people like a book. Books...you haven't needed to read in years. Just so much natural intelligence. You don't need any backstairs method to achieve perfection. You already have it. In boatloads. Sometimes I wonder why you even sleep. For beauty, you just put everyone else to shame. You know that. You don't even need beauty sleep. Sleep is such an average thing to do...and you're so extraordinary. Why waste your time in an empty bed...who am I kidding? Your bed is never empty. Unless by choice. Everyone is dying to be with you. Who wouldn't be? Why can't I have you? Don't cry, I know you want me too, but its best this way...for everyone. You bring joy and happiness to the world. Nobody could even live without you. I can barely crawl out of bed in the morning unless I know you're waiting for me behind this glass. But you taunt me. God I want you! But I can't. You're too perfect. We're too perfect. Damn this mirror.

07 March 2012

Yellow

What is happiness? Once you realize you don't have it, you spend most of your time pursuing it. The trek seems pointless. Doesn't everything? The light is not always visible at the end of the tunnel but it does not mean it isn't there. Everything seems like a downward spiral, but once you finally hit the bottom, you wake up and realize that falling is pointless. Climbing is the only reasonable thing to do. Climb away from the things that paint your world black. Buy that can of colorful paint and go at it. Try to make it yellow even though the layers of black seem impossible to cover up. Layer after layer, eventually that blackness will go away. Yellow will prevail. The sun rises every morning and sets every night. It will be dark for a time but then it will be bright again. Rain and storms may shroud the orb of joy for a while but that brightness will emerge. Yellow is the hopeful color. The possible color.

Black

What is happiness? Once you realize you don't have it, you end up spending most of your time pursuing it. The trek seems pointless. You go nowhere. Maybe there is nothing to pursue. Happiness is just a figment of the imagination, a collection of lies bundled up in a pretty little package and handed to you over the counter at the mental pharmacy. A children's book about balloons and clowns and smiling faces. Happiness is for the dogs. Or humans too simple to take a blunt look at reality. Just find something you enjoy. Spend time with people. It will come back around. That's what they say. There is no bright side when the world is painted black. Screw it. I'll get some paint and go at it, see what I can do. All colors turn to black eventually. So yeah. I'll fool myself with the delusions manifested in a bucket of colorful paint. I'll be "happy" for a bit. Then it will turn black. The truest color.

04 March 2012

My Glowing Blue Skin


Sometimes,
Only sometimes,
I wish I could peel off
My glowing blue skin
Conceal my third eye
Stitch on a button nose
Stub my long fingers
Scrape off their adhesive tips
Lengthen my legs
And shorten my arms
Release some of the fluid
From my bulbous head
            Let it trickle down my back
Dulling the vibrant glow.
            Sometimes,
Only sometimes,
            I wish I could grow
            Fingernails.
                        Carefully, ever so
                                    Carefully,
                                                I would peel away
                                                            My glowing blue skin
                                                Place it on a hanger
                                    And put in the closet
                        With all of their skeletons
            And change into the skin
They want to see.
            Then, maybe,
            Only maybe,
            I could be one of them
                        Not dwelling alone
                                    Not watching them
                                                But being them
                                    Torment my body
                        Find humor in the great inane
            And discover how low
The shovel dared to dig.
            Before long, I would go
Back to the closet
            And exchange skins.
In my blue skin, I would
Climb into
My little saucer
And go back to being
The Unidentified Flying Object
That they choose to question
And never believe.
I
Choose my little saucer
While they
Choose their self-absorbed world.
Sometimes,
Only sometimes,
I wonder what it would be like
To live without
My glowing blue skin.

02 March 2012