The written word, what is that all about?
All opinions about to be expressed come from the inner most person called me. The purpose of writing in my point of view is so to make someone laugh or make someone think about something new. Something they haven't thought about before. Think in a way so that they understand the way others, such as myself, view the world.
But now I want to use the written word to express myself. Expression is destiny. As I have gone through out my life I have acquired a sizeable amount of inclinations. I could be but a reaction machine. If I hear a new sound I listen. If someone touches from out of nowhere, I shudder. If I am around a mad person, I leave. The reaction to the inclination is almost automatic.
One of these inclinations that which has eluded my awareness for some time is that of not expressing myself. This lack of expression makes me miserable. I am the quiet kid. I do not express what bothers me. Almost as if what I have to say doesn't really matter. I must not be so cruel to myself. People talk around me and my inclination is avoid the group and walk around them. I have to make a conscious effort to talk or express myself to someone. This makes it a bit hard to get new friends. I am often very uninterested towards what most people have to say. But why? Do I ultimately think that whatever a person has to say doesn't really matter? I must not be so cruel to people?
I have an inclination to be snotty. To see many people as lower beings than me. They are people who I can look down to. People whom I can feel pity for. But while I pity others I feel pity towards myself. Why am I surrounded by this pitiful people? In truth, I often pity myself for the things I pity others about. Why not practicing some compassion towards myself and others? We are only HUMAN. We make a lot of mistakes when we are not paying attention. And we can only pay attention once at a time.
The inclination of hate. The inclination that people don't understand. The inclination that I am smarter than everybody. The inclination to feel superior because of it. Where will they get me?
And so, I fall down the path of obscurity. What are we but inclinations? What are we but forgetful beings? What are we but limited beings? A lot of our behavior comes from our inclinations, call it habits if you will. The way we treat people, those come from habits as well and past experiences. The words we use, they totally come from habits of speech since from whenever we acquired them. This is our default setting. Our most immediate reaction. And yet, there is so much more to us. There is the spirit. At least, I wish to believe there is a spirit or that there is something more to us than mere inclinations in our brain. That there is just not only overly traveled pathways in our brain. There is the true us. Our most inner self. That's a good name for it. The person who feels compassion and love towards others and ourselves. The person who is courageous, humble and kind. This part of me, it is a state of mind difficult to achieve. We are limited because while we focus on what our brains are inclined to think, say and do, we are not aware of our inner being which asks for understanding, love and compassion.
Homeless on the streets, what is the right thing to do? What should I do for them? Everytime I pass them, I feel sick to my stomach. How did they ever get in that situation? What can I to help? I am inclined to believe that I can do nothing if not little. What is the compassionate thing to do? Just merely talk to them for a little? Is my brain capable of such a thing? They say to create a habit the most difficult part is to start.
And so we reach the main source of my current predicament. And it shall be written. It is all about not being able to relate to others. That is my struggle. My inability to empathize, to care, to put myself on their shoes. I seek the right words but they escape me. It is about how hard it is for me to make bonds with others. I could have many more friends if I were able to do that. If I was more talkative. If I was funnier. If I speak louder. If I were more confident. I need to work on all of these traits. And I need to believe I am capable of all of this in order to accomplish it or at least to get more out of it than if I believe I wasn't capable of making those traits stronger within me.
And so comes a new epoch in my life. It all begins with a post. It begins with the written word. It begins by expressing myself. It begins by writing that relationships in my life need building up. Debugging my system and finding the root of most of my problems marks the end of an era.
Love and compassion? Clarity of mind? Intelligence? Well being? Being aware and in the present? They shall all be mine. So much work, though. So much so that it makes me sleepy. I have free time.
And since I work out. I exercise regularly, I actually have the energy to do all of this. And so, work will be put on it.
When you write, you are able to make lists. Declaring a plan and editting such plan. The written word is good for these things as well.
+ Playing videogames. It is an inclination and an obstacle.
+ Craig Fegurson. This guy is good at talking to women and men but mostly women. And so, an ideal role model. This guy is one of my heroes. I shall study him. I suppose I should also read more. Learn comedy patterns. Follow conversation question samples. Find clarity of mind in conversation through spontaenouty.
+ I have strenghs as well. Asking questions is an inclination and a good thing. Do not lose this.
Back to expressing myself:
How cheap can love be? How many times shall I fall for someone only for it not to work out?
How cheap can love be? How many times to fall in love and hurt because of it when there is no fidelity in it.
How cheap can love be? If it comes easy and leaves just as fast?
May it be that just as we believe in ourselves, we shall also believe in love? That it can be true and good? That with the right amount of work, it works. Eureka!? I should try and see. Was I capable of arriving to this point because of writing?
The written word. So useful. So random. The written word. Has it a beat of its own? Are we most of the time outside the realm of its significance? That once we leave the written word, it acquires a life of its own. And what purpose will such a life hold? EXPRESSION, GOALS, SENTIMENT.
I guess I love writing.