And one and two and three and four.

I love music! There I said it… Its the best thing in the world according to me. Music is my escape, my shelter, my friend, my therapist, my motivator and my bed time story teller. I listen to music all the time. But, I also play some myself. I play the guitar and the drums. And I’m also able to play the ukelele.

But recently I haven’t practiced the great art of music, as I’m in collage living in a dorm room, and there isn’t actually place to put all of the equipment, and some of the guys I swear should have been called grumpy like one of the dwarfs in Snow White, because they complain all the time. The smallest little thing annoys them and they come bug me about noise all the time.

So I was snooping around in the store room a few days earlier, looking for another mattress, well because, Ive slept through mine, which has always been a problem with me. I didn’t find one though, but stumbled upon a piece of gold. It was an old abandoned guitar left here by someone who probably didn’t want it anymore. I cleaned it, tuned it using an app I downloaded on my phone, and started jamming. I couldn’t remember anything, because I haven’t played in a really long time. But once I looked up a few chords, it all came back as if I never stopped playing. I played for about 4 hours straight, ignoring the complaints of my neighbors, submerged in another world, like when I write. I feel isolated, just me on an island, surrounded by beautiful, lush forests, and a clear ocean, white sandy beaches, and a light breeze, causing the water of the sea to make a light mist cooling me off as it reaches my face. I felt alive.

But as always there was a downside. Now if you play guitar yourself, you know that after a while of playing, your finger tips gets used to the strings on the guitar and they become hardened the more you play. And as I’ve told you, I haven’t played for quite a while now, so my fingers wasn’t near close as ready as I thought for 4 hours of playing. It felt like they were about to fall off. It hurt so bad. I even have trouble typing this right now. I have blisters on all four of my fingers I use to press the chords. From my index finger to my pinky, all of them have a doctors letter allowing them to take some time off. If  you’ve ever bumped your toe against something, you know it starts to throb, and you can feel your heartbeat in your toe. That is what my fingers feel like. I can feel the blood pumping through each of them, swelling with each heartbeat like a balloon being inflated in small little breaths.

I love to play guitar, and I love music as a whole, listening to it and composing some of it myself. But never,in my life, ever, will a abuse my fingers like that again. A learned my lesson which is, 4 hours of playing guitar will ruin your fingers, so I will only be playing 3 and a half hours each day from now on!

In the Wake of dreams..

So the other day, I was on the Internet, doing the usual useless stuff every collage student does instead of the work he has to do. For some reason when you have deadlines and you are up to your ears in work, you would rather sleep or do something useless like surfing the internet.

While I was in the wake of this virtual barrel of information, I stumbled upon something that really got my mind in some place it would rather be than in the books that lie before me me in a mountainous manner. I came upon an article about dreams. Not the usual dreams we have at night while engaging in that much more appreciated sleep that we love so profoundly in collage. No, this was the dreams we have in life. The things we really want to do. The things that keep us doing what we don’t love, so we could “one day” do those things we really want to. Dreams that make us feel alive, and give us a reason for living. For some these dreams are to grow up, buy exquisite cars, unnecessarily huge appealing houses, make millions a year and spend it on useless things we would probably use just once and then get bored of it. To have the highest possible ranking in society, so you feel important. So people will like you, when actually don’t like you, but the money you posses. For others it is having the perfect body to please others and not yourself with, to feel like death every time you stop yourself from eating what you like. Constantly following unnecessary diets that probably do not even work, but you keep convincing yourself they do. For some they might be to perform on the stage as an artist, so millions would scream their name, faint and through their stained briefs on your face.

Or maybe its actually a dream that makes sense to you. One that you can actually peruse. A dream to go see the world. A dream to live your life. A dream to see and experience the unknown. A dream to see how others live. A dream to actually surf the waters of an unknown ocean or eat something you never thought you would ever eat, like scorpion soup or deep fried Tarantula. I’m quick to judge others dreams, but don’t let anyone tell you that your dreams are stupid, because to you, they are not.

That is what my dreams are. I want to see the word. This beautiful unexplored planet of ours. Now I don’t have a problem with the dreams of others, its just that, its earthly things that get left behind when you are gone. Things you cannot take to your grave. When you follow dreams that make you live your life, that actually makes you feel alive, that gives life a meaning you could die happy, knowing that you lived your life. You used it to your fullest potential. You didn’t follow the rest of the world in doing what they want you to do. You broke the rules, and had fun doing it. Why would you want to live any other way?

Dreams keep us sane, give us a reason to live, a path to follow, and a clear mindset and focus to what we want to achieve. Whatever your dreams, useless or not, insane or not, imposable or not or just plain crazy, follow it. Work towards it. transform it into reality and pursue it!

I will continue to surf my virtual wave now. Maybe I’ll see another article about strange foods or some underground beach. Or maybe I should start working through this mountain of books in front of me…

Salute!!

Related articles

• The Power of Positive Dreaming (destinykidz.wordpress.com)
• Dream big. Aim high (stephbaguyo.wordpress.com)

The ease of communication…

I just want to get this out there, so bare with me, I’m about to complain. How easy has communication become nowadays? Its so easy to find someone, so easy to let someone know that you are still alive and breathing, so easy to say hi, I miss you. But how personal is this? How much of this do you really mean?

I personally find social media a waste of time. Don’t get me wrong, I also use it despite my current statement. But its so impersonal. I feel that its just too easy to see someones name on whatever page you are on (I’m not going to use names of sites, as you all know what I’m talking about) and send them a message. Would you have sent that person a message, if you haven’t seen their name? Following what I’m trying to say?

Would it not have been prodigious to live in the time when these things didn’t exist? When you had to write a letter to someone to stay in touch if they were distant? When a letter or a message actually meant that whomever sent the letter actually thought about you? Social media made us detached and emotionless like Oxygen. Just another atom floating in the space around us, used only to benefit another being. I mean, I would like to know whether or not the person actually thought about me, or if my name fortuitously appeared on their screen and they thought, “hey, lets send him a message because I haven’t done so in a long time”, or ever for that matter!

A phone call for example is a bit more personal, but still, would it not be nice to actually spend time with that person, instead of giving them a call? This can also be deceitful, as you cannot see their face. What if this person is putting up an act? Saying something that sounds friendly but with a face meaning something entirely different?

And a text! Wow, need I say more! Is there anything on this planet more impersonal and poker-faced than a text? You never know what type of emotion a person used when typing a text. Let me demonstrate: “I hate you!” That was a joke. See what I mean? And well, spelling also goes out the door. We use inappropriate abbreviations as words. I’ve also been a victim of this, as I got used to this type of “text language” that I started using it in school essays and examination papers, costing me a whole lot of sadness and dissatisfaction, but that’s beside the point.

I personally think that call, text and data rates should go up to an unaffordable amount like the fuel price is at the moment, and decrease the fuel price, so that people would actually make an effort to spend time with each other.

Don’t let your social skills go to waste. Make an effort to go see someone, or sent them a letter. They will appreciate it much more than a lifeless text or misleading phone call. I know I would, but that’s just me…

Related articles

• How to Catch a Texting Liar (healthland.time.com)

Being a writing god…

So, this is something new for me. Writing that is. My vocabulary is not astonishingly good, and my library of words lack, well, quite a few words. So why am I suddenly interested writing?

I’m a guy who likes to do my own thing. A leader, a man who likes to do things my way and my way only. I’m independent, and don’t like following the rules. I like to be in control of things and I make the rules. This is probably a bad characteristic, but that’s me, deal with it.

So, a friend recently suggested I read a book that she found inspiring and a good story I might like. At first I hesitated, because reading was honestly not something I was strongly interested in. I had the typical thinking of a five year old who can’t read, so I’d watch the movie or series instead. I eventually agreed to read the book, because well, I had nothing else to do. Little did I know that this book might change the entire course of my life.

This guy had me hooked. I saw something that I liked. He manipulated every corner of the story and had me coming back for more. I finished the book that same day, taking only two minute breaks to find something to nibble on while engaging in this unique new world I found. I liked what he did.

I found that when he wrote, he was the god of that story. He created everything, including the people, what they looked like, their history, their present, and future. I liked this so much that I picked up another book the following day and engaged in another entirely new world. It was as if the world I lived in ceased to exist. Lost in this book I got a bout of inspiration. What if I could be a god?

I took her tablet, opened a strange, never before heard of word processor application she had installed on it and started typing. I loved it! It was a sensation that is imposable for me to describe because of my small vocabulary, and lack of preposterous words. I was a god. I created a new world. My imagination went wild. I couldn’t stop myself from typing. I was like a stereotypical mad scientist who just created a an evil machine that could help him take over the world.

I like to write, and its a new passion I found. I like to be in control of my story. Writing allows me, to be me, to make the rules, and create whatever I want even If its something absurd that normal unimaginative people will find weird. Its a way of expressing my feelings. A way to break free from the real world and just be me.

So if you are new to writing like me, don’t think you cant do it, or let anyone tell you its a broken dream because who cares if you cant? You are the god. You can create anything you like. Even if its a unicorn able to make you pizza, sing you to sleep, fly you to a magical forest where watermelons grow on trees, the animals can speak English and poop money and where rivers of chocolate flow into an abundant lake of ice cream.

Writing is now possibly something I will do for the rest of my life. It sets me free, and allows me to be a god every time my hand holds a pen or my fingers come in contact with the keyboard.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
― Maya Angelou