Boring

I've come to the general conclusion that I really am... not... that... cool at all. Seeing how I've become increasingly more of a social pariah with the passing of each day of my misserable existence, I prefer to say that my excuse for my lack in social activity is: "I am Asian..." Not like I'm self-prejudice or anything, because I think that might be frowned upon in society...

The Flavor of Life

Taste is not always the word that's subsequent to eating. Humans don't just taste the food they eat but also the world around them: The Flavor of Life. It's called "likes" and "dislikes", which doesn't mean the food you want to eat versus the food you despise. The flavor of life taps into the wonders of music, art, actions, places, people, adventures, or any person, place, or thing. And every living being is the epitome of the flavor of life; any living creature with a preference represents the flavor that life presents.
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People have a preference:

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Sister #1 has displayed this clearly with her distaste for poetry, her distaste for organization, and her distaste for anything that makes my life easier.
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Sister #2 has presented this fact with her blatant, good taste in fashion, her good taste in music, and her love in what we could metaphorically call, the flavor of anything out of the ordinary.
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Best Friend show her good taste in scented shampoo, her love for anything art-related, and her good taste in people.
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Difference between these people?

..................Yes..................

Obviously. They share different lives; enjoy what they enjoy; be what they want to be. But they still live under the same concept, that all people desire and dislike. And in that and only that, they are similar.

Life's Necessities

I've come to the general conclusion that there are many things in life that have the potential to be a waste of time if they lacked the significance that they currently posses in life. Though no daily activity, spontaneous action, or slowly planned excursion is a true waste of time, for every bit of time is utilized in one way or another there are some activities that I've come to find relatively close to that of trash. If humanity didn't stand precariously on these Must-Be-Evenly-Balanced-Activities, their usefulness would equal almost that of uselessness.

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...............Breathing
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........................................Eating
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.................................................................Drinking
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..........................................................................................Sleeping
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We do such things because, if not, we'd all die. Yet if not necessities of life, if they were no longer so significant, then what would these activities be considered? Wasting time on something that became unnecessary and probably less enjoyable... Not a complete waste of time because we are still utilizing time to do such an activity; if we chose to do something so useless, there must be a reason... But not a great use of time when our time is so limited.

The Switchback

Through realization that I am unfit to climb Rattle Snake Ridge and also unfit in general, I've come to the conclusion that appreciation is of the moment and not always of morals and mores. Only because as I climbed, struggled, huffed, puffed, and crawled, I formed inside of me, a deep, profound hatred towards hills; cliffs; mountains; steepness.

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The truth:
Disgust, dislike, and hatred are all easily established inside the beholder
And easily blown out, darkened like a flame, friendship, love, life.
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We comprehend the freedom of life and feeling, emotion and wonder.

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See what we want
................Feel what we want
..............................Hear what we want
.........................................Love what we want
.......................................................Hate what we want
....................................................................Like what we want
................................................................................Dislike what we want
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In all honesty, it matters not the emotions of the moment. Because they are ever changing under the pressure of life's twists and turns: the turning of the trail; the switchbacks; inclines; falls; lurches. The diversity of the scene adds to the all-encompassing excitement but not the importance of the person you are. That is, unless you experience an epiphany or change as a whole. Your soul unchanged, though, will never be permanently swayed by the quick switchback or momentary falls and rises.

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Because as I made it to the top of the mountain, the bickering about hills and steepness dissipated. It was dissolved by the beauty of the world; the breath-taking view from the cliff; the wonders of life itself. During the descent, I noticed my desire to see another incline because of the pounding of the falling of feet and weight and compression. It was a switchback of perceptions, emotions, ideals, likes and dislikes.
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A change of attitude is an unexpectedly amazing concept.

Solitude

Solitude...
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Is unforgiving

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Because it is a punishment,

Branding the convicted - they lay

Untouched and avoided...

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Stranded

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In the middle of some vast, inescapable expanse

Where there are no...

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..........Partners to watch the stars with

................... .Friends with linked arms and support

......................... .....Love to mesh fingers like entwining, gently watered roots

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In this place - this abandoned

Fairy tale created by the desperate -

You can frolic, plucking up the...

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..........Dandelions

......................Roses

...............................Lilies and Lilacs

........................................ .....Daisies

................................................... . ..Potential Friends

Fine dining on the picnic table

While naively telling yourself:

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I'm not alone

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But reality stares you in the face.

It knocks on the windows of your mind

And pushes you through the door of understanding:

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You are as alone as you make yourself out to be...

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So initiative strikes you

Like the fast ball of a new game: new beginning.

To allow someone like you a

Chance to marvel at the hopes of humanity

And the world where people

Hold your hand and reside around you.

Waste of Time

Dedication over sweated hours transforms the interpretation of Chiropractor
In every man, woman, and child standing prostrate
Before the society-gods of diligence and manipulated fate
Which grasps upon the perseverance like a life line.

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Waste and Time have
...............No better knot between them
............................Than the words:

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Light and Dark

Black and White

Thick and Thin

Erudite and Unintelligible

Great and Insignificant

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A bridge of polar opposites.

...............Two directions clashing in one sentence:

............................"What a waste of time..."

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Of what but nothing more than our productivity. The fruits of trees you water with every drop of the unstopping clock's hydrogens and action's oxygen for breathing. Where actions are of less significance, time has shining moments unseen by an unobservant eye. Time can blaze in the depths of pitiful boredom as a beacon of hope for something greater: another day. A new way to wake up and admit to your pathetic-ness but also your undeniable ability to mold your own clay, unbaked body; your newly created routine. You are you with every minute, second, microsecond, greeting and farewell. The time cannot change you but can make you. Time cannot mold you but can break you; can kill you.

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You are not invincible in the binding chains of time...

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Time rakes at the immature roots

...............Of your maturity that pours out in exponentially increasing

............................Amounts of understanding for the reality of things.

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Time stands when you sit, dine, sleep,

...............Neglecting its permanence and irksomeness for its unrelenting

............................Desire to kill us -in theory - by the wrinkles and wisdom.

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Time cannot be thrown away.

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Time and waste know no connection to

What is reality and what is percieved.

Percieve and touch the space of time which

Lies forever intangible in the realm known as...

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Reality.

Professionalism

Professionalism does not inspire the
Curves, dips, thrilling hikes and breath-taking falls.
Nor obstacles that build the competition
By cementing that Mind-Block wall.

For I am no writer nor talent
Which is more so undefined.
When the pages of definitions are filled,
Of the meaning that lay unrefined.

While dipping plates force jagged context to flow out
Off the pages like Yukon and Nile
Onto the wonders of every dreamer's life-fabrication
Which expands to define a new mile.

These new steps, leaps, jumps: into the world called
Seniority and professionalism. I've come
To not recognize myself as the latter,
But count the things I carry that I've done.

Because I am no artist nor master,
But one with the scale to weigh the entirety
Of aspirations and accomplishments, not perfectionism.
Establish your work beneath the bouts of pained temple and strain
To ink the page called professionalism.

Procrastination

While slaving over homework, online quizzes, and excessively delayed cramming in the late of night for a class dubbed, "Physics", I've come to the realization that procrastination is not a lack of productivity but a basket case chalked full of it. It is not an excuse to forget work itself or neglect it but a method of release from that which torments the every corner, curve, and bump of your being:

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We procrastinate because we want to.
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Not because it is compulsory. Not because we are asked to nor because we are forbidden to. It is not a form of rebellion but temptation in its purest form: temptation to skip on over to the flower fields with wonders of lacking mental torture and the release of the accumulated pressure upon your weighted mind and pulsing temple.

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Procrastination is a form of objection - a method of screaming to those who can see: I am bored. It is the variable that sits on the left side of the mathematical, "greater than" sign. It is fun: more so than the previous task. It is just as productive and arguably less important, yet nevertheless the fruit of meaning.

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Procrastination tells a story.

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It creates understanding by shoving the screams of release right in authority's face. It expresses a deeper meaning than: I don’t' want to do my work. It shouts, sings, and speaks: This lacks interest. It writes the words of a broken wonder; soulless student; lack luster worker and pastes it upon the ocular pages of the reprimanding adult. It explains without sound but through action and desires.

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It's story telling, in a finer sense, is nothing more than a method to convey emotion and escape. It's a basket full of it: the flowers in the field or wonders. The mutual understanding that tasks can be the epitome of insipidness is conveyed through the desire to drop and run. It's the refreshment after working in the flower garden. The desire for a no-go; to return from the battlefield of hellish boredom.

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Escape isn't always a bad thing every once and a while.

Encircled Cerulean

Simultaneous contradictions do create
Rampaging insecurity through Pain and Happiness
And whatever is pelted through the gun of hopes, dreams and
Reality at the body of life.

For I can't pierce the eyes of dreams and not experience
The stab of jealousy and aspiration’s desires.
Nor is it plausible to sink beneath the depths of encircled cerulean
And prevent euphoric smiles or blissful salutations.

Yet greetings and grazes against hands or
Playful warfare through the battlefield of my own inhibitions
Ignites the cascading pearls from my encircled colorlessness
And recreates the moments I've chosen to avoid.

Those moments who's creator, with the encircled cerulean,
Resting inches above mine, couldn't fathom
The universe-deep, impenetrable turmoil of
Pearls and thoughts about those encircled cerulean spheres
That penetrate through the depths of my reality,
Netted and veiled by the depths of truth.

That which lays to be noticed is defined
As important to the maker.

That which lays to be hidden is defined as important to
Whatever desires it to be.

That which you've unearthed in my encircled colorlessness
Is nothing but the lie I'm hoping you'll find to avoid
What causes the contrary reactions and bumbling responses:
That truth which is important to you.

Boulevard

Flower on ineludible metal:
You enraptured my attention
With Intertwining Silver; Adolescent Charm:
And a Picture-Perfect Understanding

Between our ocular lingua franca.
Amidst our entwined hands,
Palms flat, fire and ice, furnace and climatization,
I dive, deeper beneath glazed and aquamarine

Into the cortex: into comprehension itself
To sit beneath heaven and stars;
The bewilderment and blunders; the unfaulted
Cement of the boulevard of our excursions.

We plummet into the depths of colorlessness and
The aquamarine - beneath the wakes of
Uncertainty and Anxiety.
Still you do not relinquish

Your grasp upon perma-freeze or persistence
But pray that heaven's celestial beings,
Be not the contradiction of hellish fire
But a more pleasant variation thus approved,
So you don't desire a no-go in the midst
Of the perfect battle:
The golden horizon.

And yet, floral-love does wilt and shatter
Upon touch of chilling insecurity and lacking
Infallibility: piteous fear sparked by naïveté.

Thus cracks before the crystal floor.

Thus shatters above shining boulevard.

Propelled by the dry-iced girl whom
Is no lady nor woman nor sophisticated adult
But a child stuck beneath aquamarine and deep wakes:
Stuck behind you on a boulevard

Where dreams really are broken with
That silver blossoming plumeria on crystal carpet.
Where you subtly increase your tempo to
A driving beat, leaving me on
Crystal ice and lone dance floor
Beneath the unwavering blackness and starry sky,
Trying to change a manner or more
Into acceptability and new strides.

A step utilized to follow forever.

A pace to which you lay, eternally unaware.

P-Chan

Tribulations rule the day when one sentence causes complete mental breakdowns. But you being an insomniac is undoubtedly on you. 'Tsokay. You won't die in a pit of dispair just because I tell you one miniscule bit of information.

Blame me for you being an insomniac, but I blame you for showing me the definition of a blog. Microsoft Word has been abandoned by the user.