Spaces

Yet another research paper, yet another 3am post. I am not enjoying the pattern in these schedules.

I feel like I need to start drawing again. I need to return to my world of creation and shapes. Once, I was nearly to the edge. I was close. I was close enough that I could pear over the precipice and see the downward slope toward the grove of goals. They were right there.

Every now and then I need to remember that I am stretched thin. I am so used, so at ease to be thinking in multiple times, multiple places, and maneuver through the world on the fly. It is how I am. It is me. It is what I do.
But I am tired.

I am really, really tired.

I am in too many places. I am in too many times. I am not here. I am not when. I am not what.

There is no chance for a full revival. Only stim packs and the random chanced upon reminder. A fleeting shimmer. A green leaf amongst a sea of yellow.
Too many traps. Too many dwellings. Too many don't matter. Not enough matter.
Stop. Move. Flow. Settle. Be. Expand, but return home. Travel forth, but hold a spoonful of oil. Drink from the sea and wrap yourself in the lonely, fickle wind. Give it a friend for the moment. Show it softness in order to remember your own softness and grip. Breathe. Find your motion. Find your cycle.
Find your place.
Retract. Center. Find security, find safety. Find a hill to roll down. Find a tree to climb. Let its slow hands reach up and lift you in its concerned skyward embrace.
Make yellow dance against a backdrop of seafoam orbs and lavender oranges.
Touch colors, smell the sights, taste the music.
Remember.



**reboot.



grow.

Close Enough

It is just a little off, but still about 16 hours away from Friday afternoon. This week has been moving unbelievably slow. I've been working pretty hard I think to make everything work out the way that it needs to. I've prepared a net for myself this time, and have some pretty good hand holds if I need them. I feel tingly and a pretty sleepy. Just want to get this over. Could have maybe even finished it today, but that wasn't the plan. The hour is drawing near and I will be able to embrace it. This very post is even another way for me to be doing something and still move time along.

I feel so fussy.

Needs to be tomorrow already.

Apart from this, things are proceeding well. I will be able to safely navigate this semester if this first week is any sort of a standard. I have been level, I have been moving. I have been given pieces that could be my future, and this weekend I will take steps to grasp them. I will continue to work on and finish drawing and painting some of the portraits for the grandmas.
Forgive me Wisconsin, I know I am not as good a son as I could be. Instead I merely give you the bare minimum. I am trying hard to change this so that I might finally be rid of it and actually earn the praise you've bestowed on me.
Thanks everyone.
I will not make you liars.

Rest assured, I don't break promises.

Geometry pt. II

I am coming to the conclusion that Portland is about the closest to a geographical mind reboot as anything. Every time I am here I can just feel layers sliding off, or changing the way they were arranged. Time holds still, but mostly is the same behind the curtain. Things make sense in Portland despite strange weather, and stranger road systems. I'm not quite sure how to put it, but this place is healthy. Like all the moss that covers everything. I think that fits. A Mossy-ness. The sun is setting on this particular puzzle despite it is still left uncompleted. There will be time to revisit it, but for now, I will place it in its own particular box of which I have collected many and should have one that will fit perfectly. There still is much to do, and having to figure out this and other puzzles on the side is not going to help find the rhythm. Soak back into black, lean against orange, let light blue be the guide through the woods.
(Dear future Sam, Draw this for understanding)

On Ice

Eerily right on.

Expansion on an explosive slow

Always a lack of action.

Truth and Lies

"Until you know that a lie is a lie, then it is the truth. Learning how to discern the truth might be the right thing to do but it won't always make you happy."
"So, lies make us happy?"
"Yes, what a clever auto-rave."

-Ergo Proxy

A Controlled Spiral

Past week or so has been of particular interest. I am still suspicious of a particular weed that may still exist, but so far it has been either lurking, or has maybe finally be uprooted. I believe I have finally started getting into a good rythym of time. Always room for improvement, but at least I am doing more of the things that I want to do, and when to do them. Cycles have been hard to tie in at the moment. I feel as if they are there, but the colors don't quite match up. I feel aloof. Despite progress in activities, I can't really tell how passionately I pursuing things at the moment, or if I am merely doing things I think I should and going through them mechanically.
Portland was very useful. It helped remind and push forward life. At the very least, trails in the dark are being illuminated, and with any luck, there may be some more steady light.

Thankful

 

Assassins

From Whitman

It has begun. Not too much has changed just yet. Equilibrium is slowly swirling down to settling. I feel as if there is plenty of time to get everything I want to have done, but I am not utilizing my time well, as always. Friends are becoming more abundant which is of especial joy. I need to remember to keep drawing and reading when I don't have things to do. Pictures too. I have been lax.

From Whitman

Despite I died within 24 hours of assassins (very sketchy kill) things are inversely growing and connectivity is becoming alive. Tendrils are forming and this pleases me much.

I live here now.

From Whitman

And this is indeed my home.

I have done a good job today. /content/

From Whitman

Am at peace

Revisiting Reconnectedness

I'm not really sure how things are going to be completely frank. I seem to be drawn more toward my work that I have yet to do rather than that which staring me right in the face. I'm a little concerned that I will try to pull back from my far off gaze and either get bitten by something in the near future, or even in the present because of my misguided sense of priority. Despite graduation close by, I really don't feel as if this year is different at all. I've used the title of senior to do barely anything I wouldn't have just done before. The people are still going to be there into the summer, and when I come back from college almost every time. The connections that I am beginning to foster are for the getting prepared for books and other far off things. There is a a transparent specter that wears internet shirts and drifts in and out of the perceivable consciousness of others on a weekly basis. The disappearance of such will leave with it no great trace and no viewable difference. It merely will move to a new place to haunt. Without the ability to affect the tangible world it is left to living off of what it hopes are correctly interpreted visual cues, and what it can make of the world it lives in as the strive for communication continues.

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Colors of a familiar tune twirl their way through a crisp fall afternoon. The sun’s persistent warm rays reflect off of the colorful leaves that have finally found beauty in death and change. The ribbons of color embrace and conjure up their own memories as I pass a hand slowly over them. They remind me to respond with the appropriate color sequence, which upon release yields an expected hue. Then the concentration is gone, a materialistic eye is confused at what it has just been witnessed, and turns toward the conversationee. A tree sided road strolls up to meet the two, but goes unnoticed as the inner eye curses at it’s lack of power and understanding. A brief pause and a reboot of what is known, and what is not, and the walking verbal interaction continues, but so too a constant frustration at the lack of action. Always a lack of action.

Once Again XKCD..

Link
For some reason, pictures are being very not formatable.

Please don't be a Prediction.