Thought

Irritating Thoughts

 Self explanatory.

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I’m scared. Terrified.
That’s why I write.
That’s why I get intoxicated.
That’s why I philosophize.
And yet… I have not the slightest clue what I’m afraid of.
I can’t share my thoughts or heart properly. The message always gets across accurately. Never whole.
Life always feels incomplete.
The fun times end too soon. The bad times last too long.
This reality is dull. It’s boring.
Helplessness. As I get older the world appears crazier. I’m left questioning whether the madness increases or my awareness of it does.
My life summarized is Mildly Anxious.
The ups and downs are there. Always present. They’re unpredictability is nauseating.
The best is made of whatever comes.
I’m constantly realizing how little I know of the world.
And that’s just what I’m aware I know little of.
There are things I don’t consider exist. Things I wouldn’t think up in a million years.
Like all my beliefs, given to me. Heard them and followed whichever I agreed with.
I’ve never confirmed any to be accurate or true. Wouldn’t even know how I would do that..
It’s quite possible I don’t understand anyone and no one understands me.
I’m scared to die. But only when I think about it. And only some of the times that I think about it.
Don’t know if I’m succeeding at life or not.
Life sort of… Takes me.
To wherever I am. I don’t know.
From wherever I came. I don’t know.
To wherever I’m going. I don’t know.
I’m happy from time to time.
Miserable from time to time.
Not sure why the things that cause either do.
I’m not even sure what the point of writing this is.
But I am. I guess this is how I “succeed” at life.
I think that’s the goal.
Not sure.

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Hiding Time

Self-reflective, Jack discusses his fears and motivations for being creative. Leaving a mark.

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I wear a mask to go hard
And I take the lie pretty far
Fake like I’m born with these scars
I don’t bruise, I’m from mars
Way high up in the stars
With red eyes locked like darts
Just ’cause I’m smarter when I gab
That’s why I overstand to rap and spit
Can barely stand hands frosty grip
Around my throat
The grip won’t slip
Hope I don’t choke
I’m rolling throwing blame at frozen shame
Stone cells, prison brain
Shattered the glass house
The crash was mad loud
I’m assed out
No second chance will pass down
Claim sober to be left alone
It’s over
Getting closer for…

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Institutionalized

Circumstantial imprisonment happens quite often. Justice is a fiction told to people desperate for a fantasy to believe in. Put the animal in a cage long enough and watch it respond to its environment.

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The interrogator with the evidence, the reports, the witnesses and the accusations is always the last to know the truth. Left with only assumptions.

The suspect without any of the evidence, any report or witness enters knowing he’s innocent from the start. A fact memory serves well.

Yet, six months training, a badge and a gun convince the interrogator his intuition is more valid than personal experience.

Biased jurors, law bound judges, money hungry attorneys with cleverly worded questions and a year worth of court visits turn a man into a monster.

Ten years in a cage with murderers and thieves corrupts even the purest of saints.
When the bars are pulled away and the sunlight is remembered awareness settles.
It was safer in the box.

In the outside world the word of truth goes ignored.

Preconceptions get twisted and morphed.

Friends and family who knew more kept silent.

Fear.

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Symbolic Sentience

The thought of the Letters.

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Symbols, but mere ideas
Random configurations up to interpretation
Not real. Rather, projections in the mind of the reader dissecting it
Loose strings more or less connecting at intersecting points
Where we join we seem to behave in patters visible to human brain
Until they realize and think that its all in their heads
An illusion they choose to embed

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Planning for Later

After finishing his 365 Project Jack is eager to see what comes next for him.

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Been restless for days. Fastened safe behind the door of the bunker. Clicking and ticking the word keys. Idea stacking. Format building. Adding shape and structure. Fleshing out the details of the future for the future. Doing it all drained from the won race.

Constructing new tools to face unmet targets. Swords for battle and sticks for stability.

Victory battles don’t predict ended wars. Ended wars still have the aftermath. Recovery is gradual behind the worn inkless pen. Winners decide the history.

A war of infinite battles has no finish. Each finale is but a stepping stone to the next risk.
It was all just chapter 1.

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Perspective Death

Death to a Perspectivist can take many forms. This is what it looks like for Jack.

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Many mourn with tears upon death, focusing on the absence of the individual life-force.

I consider death no more than the end of a book I’m part of. They’ve moved out of this three dimensional plain and are off to bigger and better things elsewhere in transcendent reality. In seeing it this way I forget about the absence. It’s like a friend moving away too far to communicate with in any feasible way. They’re just somewhere I can’t reach is all. Thus I remember the good times spent with the individual. It’s all there is left to do. The tears won’t bring anyone back or fix any personal problems I might be having. But I can enjoy what was and consider the death a completion of a unique book. I get to revisit the pages as often as I’d like.

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And Then Some

Fight through. What’s on the other side is worth the isolation, focus and hard work.
You have to live for your own goals.

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Tic, tick, toc, tock
The gray, oh how grey it is
Peaking while peeking
Was told what the toll was
Armed up I’ve got them with their arms up
Cuz, you’re your cause ‘cause you the jerk always jerking off
Duck the low flying duck
Get blown by some bitch seeking blow
One with a red bow in her hair, she bowed arrow in hand bow in the other
Bearer of hearts barer apart than together
Plan a route to the root of the problem
But banned the band from coming
Weigh what matters and take the rest out of the way
Wonder why’d the wide issue fade

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Fabric Structure

People play pretend quite often. They pretend they know there is a God. They pretend they know there isn’t. They pretend they understand the reasons they behave the way they do..
But they don’t know. None of us do.

Jack shares his thoughts on this.
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It’s not what it seems.

Reality might be beyond the processing power of anything within it. It’s beyond the physics of our universe. Beyond imagination.

The underlying truth is that nature is too vastly complicated. It’ll never be possible to comprehend.

It remains a complete mystery while we're surrounded by it. While inside of it. Even while part of it.

It’s so magnificently intricate that it’s small-by-comparison components remain floating question marks.. What’s in or beneath the ocean? What’s consciousness? What’s out there in the cosmos?

The confusion, dramatic. How much is known about any one thing is unknown.

It’s a string of pretend games.

Imaginary guidelines for the simulation of order..

Arrogant while ignorant.

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Those That Make

What you’ve done in the past will influence your future. More so if you’re a creator.

A thought on creativity.

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The ability to create is a muscle in the mind. If exercised there is no limit to the imaginative capacity it might contain.

All forms of creation affect the understanding of all other forms. They cross over. The same amount of improvement you gain from using your imagination in one area will show in the rest. The base tools are what get enhanced. Critical thinking. Problem solving.

The more varied your methods of creation are the more you have to offer in any one area. What you bring is the experience of what was made or attempted in other mediums. And with an elevated understanding of creation you’ll begin to see how what worked for that, with a little tweaking, can work for this.
Re-imagination is the strongest weapon a creator holds. Knowing what old tricks make new art.

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Aimless

The easy way out shortens our sight and understanding. Rationalizations against methods meant to discipline only prevent learning.

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Lost while handing directions

Claiming knowledge of the swiftest shortcuts

The path with the least resistance

Here is what is needed

Here is what is not

All these innovative designs to ease the journey never taken

These wastes of time are how getting lost began in the first place

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Loosen The Grip

The most difficult challenge a writer faces is learning to be less critical of themselves. To allow the work to stand on its own. Learning when to stop editing themselves and how to let go of the work when its time.

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Click, click, click… Typing away at the keyboard. Minutes morph into hours, then days, then weeks. Before too long, months have gone by. A hundred thousand words on a manuscript. The deadline for the first chapter is in a month. It’s time to edit that first chapter. And edit. And edit. And edit that first chapter.

Typing away at the keyboard. Minutes morph into hours, then days, then weeks. Before too long, a month has gone by. Ten thousand words edited to the fullest of my ability. All the little finalizations required get attention. That nervous shiver of whether or not something is going missed. Confidence is hard to have, but I know it has to be let...

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Detach

Realize your Inner Monologue (Commenting Inner Voice) and your Conscious Mind (Perception, Awareness) are two different entities co-existing.
You are only your awareness.
To Listen is for the Conscious Mind to focus and the Inner Monologue to remain silent and without judgment.
Thus the floodgates of Perception and Information open.
Limitless Intellect.
Infinite Understanding.

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Predeterminations

A reflective analysis of the philosophical predeterminations we make about the world and the people in it. We always think we have things figured out while it is obvious to everyone else we’re making assumptions.

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We claim to know the most while always knowing the least.
We boil the people around us down to simple generalizations not considering all the intricate details that make them.
We tell the world they’re being fake when they don’t behave according to our uneducated guess.
We pretend we’ve got every circumstance figured out to the smallest of details and cast blame when things fall apart.
We deny it being obviously a result of our lack of preparation.
We know what everything is for, what motivates each individual, what everyone thinks and feels at all times.
We feel there is no need for questions when we already know the answers.
We feel there is no need to be told because we won’t believe what doesn’t match our predetermined notions.

We, in our primitive prideful minds conclude and conclude with zero input from the reality of the matter.
Yet, we are stuck trapped thinking this is real, this is accurate. The world is what’s wrong not our assumptions.
We are arrogance, it leaks most from those of us who’ve accomplished the least.
Who understand our…

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God Doesn't Like Cheap

With Religion these days being no more than a system used for financial gain and societal control, it's hard to know what needs to be done to be saved.
This brief thought based rant suggests what might be happening.

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Traditions forced into gullible minds
Manipulated by systems designed to take advantage time after time
Consumerism hidden behind the face of a god
Obey and offer a sacrifice of finances so the pearly gates open
A stay at God’s place is expensive
Meet the conditions, pay the fee, sign here
Maybe you’ll be considered
Salvation only arrives if you stand in line
Free will is a crime
But if you buy the goods you’ll be saved
If you waste the time and money you’ll be loved
God doesn’t love cheap

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Aged Identity

In an Identity based atmosphere we see a struggle between the new and old
We feel the need to expose who we are to everyone
Voices unheard, just to discover our identity was never what we thought it was
This philosophical thought explains the idea.

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The end of our ignorance dissolves with age
We learn from mistakes
Memories are always the bad ones because they hold the lessons
There is never an ultimately perfect version of ourselves to get to
We are always just better than we were, be it in one direction or another
Sharing what we’ve learned might help someone else understand what they must do
But it is the job of no one to fix all the broken in the world
Only the broken can fix themselves through the lessons in their mistakes
We have to accept mistakes as our fault for any of this to be possible in the first place
We have to be willing to change things we believe make up our identity to fix ourselves
We grow from young to obsess over our identity
We grow to old to pick the things which don’t belong there anyway

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Meanwhile...

A thought on the madness of American’s on 6/22/18

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We murder and enslave over who’s dirt is who’s, then fear crossing imaginary lines.
Yet, we allow the children to starve and the sick to die having all the resources.
We cast blame on each other and deceive one another, then struggle to trust anyone’s word.
Yet, we riot for truth and shun those who don’t lie so well.
We refuse to acknowledge when we don’t, and rather ruin things than confess.
Yet, we hold guns, make mistakes and send each other into cages knowing we weren’t ready.

 

Meanwhile…
They rob us and the bombs fall.

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Pure Anger

Jack discusses his battle with anger control problems in an attempt to be more open emotionally with the readers.

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It's stuck. Pinned up against the walls of my mind. There's no reason or source. It just is what it is. No control over it. It doesn't come out. It doesn't get seen. It lingers, frozen in place. Assuring me it is always there. Assuring me it'll always be there.
Assuring me there is nothing I could do to rid myself of this perpetual anger. It's ever graduating to a more intense version of hate and self-loathe. Warm from the inside. The connection to others is melted away by the furious heat.
No meditation exists powerful enough to subdue the broken will of a tortured monster. Destruction is all twisted minds know when rage-filled and out of control. There is never any order.
Hopeless is what they call it in the mountains where the cold rules all and the calm sit frosted fighting the physical pain with the mental.
When the mind is what attacks the body is what needs to control and that is what the rage has held onto. There is nowhere left to go.
Loathe.
Disdain.

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Never Idle

Most of us want to give up without ever realizing that the struggle is the part that teaches us, not the accomplishment. Jack reflects on this matter.

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It's becoming a fight to stay conscious. Find myself fighting the gaining dark against the fading light. There's not even a tunnel at this point. It's a void with a spot we'll call a star. It's too far to reach out for. It's too small to tell apart. Managing to ever reach it might mean getting scorched. Never trying means being consumed by the everlasting empty. No floor to run on. There's nothing to grip. Can't close my eyes questioning how I'll ever close the gap and escape this black trap. There's never an answer. It's not in me to quit, so forever I suffer. It's the lessons I learn from the struggle that matter. And although there is no way in sight, seeing is not believing when my eyes are all that see and expect me to believe what they feed is accurate. It's difficult and I've accepted this. What can be done when life is a quest where we reach for the sky, keep climbing hoping one day we get there, but most of us fall and die. At least if we try our lives don't turn out to be a waste of time. It's the middle stuff that matters as things pass by. The destination means we're finished. That's the end of our lives. I don't plan on being idle and standing by.

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