Call me maybe?

You see, my network's down, so I can't tweet or text, and am forced to confront myself. Which I don't mind that much, because maybe I should take time away from the hubbub of social comforts. Because basically that's what our social media is to us these days, a comfort - makes us feel less alone, like maybe we're not the only ones feeling the pain that we do. Or the happiness we do.

Economists say that Social Media is a bubble that will eventually pop and won't be so life consuming, but I find myself disagreeing. I feel like we will always want/appreciate the comforts of our virtual friends and followers, because late at night when your real ones aren't around, you still have people who are there. And as humans we'll always crave it. It kind of makes me wonder what Economists then think the next bubble will be.

My brother has this theory that our phones are in fact, not just a piece of technology, but become a piece, a very personal piece, of who we are. And I think I agree with him. I mean when last did you go a day without your phone, WAIT don't answer that because it's crap question that doesn't substantiate the point I'm trying to make.

Wait - something just got into my eye.

Okay, I'm back, the eyes red as blood. And it's pretty crazy how my immediate reaction was to squirt as much eye-gene into it as I could and then put my spectacles on, which I'm now wearing in the dark. How absolutely pointless.

About your phone, it's an extension of your arm - your connection to anyone and everyone around the world. You can get information, check your back account, check your email and message your friend in Australia at the same time. Yes, the world has shrunken, but it's sort of beautiful how close it has brought us all.

My phone holds so much of me and what I do, and I know that some people will be like "You shouldn't speak that way about material things" but really? Are you serious? Be real with yourself, you're probably thinking that as you stare at your phone screen and read this very post. I haven't ever written a post via my pc, I do everything on my phone and to me that's pretty amazing.

I feel really disconnected without mine, and at one stage when I didn't have a phone it was sort of liberating, but pretty crap. I mean, I like being able to lie in my bed and speak to whomever I need to, I can have a conversation with someone about something I had thought of in the very moment that I did, and it doesn't matter where they are.

Also, just think about how uncomfortable you get when someone's looking through your phone, even if you have nothing to hide. It's like their sifting through the very pages and contents of your soul, because everything you look at, write to people and speak about is on your phone. It is such a personal piece of metal.

I actually use to go around, copying the music off different people's phones so that I could have an in depth look into who they were, because the lyrics you listen to, and the beats you like, basically gives me a feel of your soul. Because when you're listening to music, you're allowing it to run like a stream around your soul, and mold it as the stream would a rock.

I think that as long as we don't make things gods in our life then we're a for a way. Appreciate the things that simplify your life and allow you to express yourself, the small things, like your phone; your connection to the entire world.

I am a Writer

I'm a writer, I'm a writer,

I'm silent revolutionary revelation fighter. 

I'm my roots, and my chains, 

I am everything the past as asked of me but nothing my future has seen before. 

I'm a miracle, blessed with an insight of a world so destined for greatness, 

but so intent on mediocrity. 

I'm going to keep begging you for change, 

until the final day of my death, 

when I breathe my last breath. 

I'm a writer, I'm a writer.

A big part of me, has told myself that maybe I shouldn't write as often because it might numb down my expression if there's too much of it. But then I again I also understand that my expression, which I'm throwing in your face essentially, has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. 

As I lay here, having slept all day and now am lying in the darkness of my room, I find myself not missing anything but a woman. A woman that too has been put on this earth, and a woman so greatly and beautifully created, I sometimes have to stop and just think wow. Someone who makes me question my own ability, and thinks more of my art then I ever could. 

I am intent on surrounding myself with souls older in this world, who feel more than others do when they've been told to shut up, because they have so much more meaning to add to the madness. I love the people who have surrounded me and molded me, who walk with me on this immense and absolutely beautiful journey. As I watched them find themselves, in their own hearts, in their art and in their passion, I rediscovered my own longing for contentment and peace in who I was.

The people you surround yourself with, defines you. That's what your mum always said, well it is what my mum always did. I don't argue that, and I am okay with the fact that my mother will never see the people I surround myself with as the absolutely beautiful and shatteringly inspirational people that they are. I did choose to have them in my life. They do define me. Those conversations in my room, with joints, cheap rose and too many cigarettes are moments in my life I look back on and thank God for the enlightenment He has blessed my life with. They have taught me how to say the words, my heart had already been crying out but I had never been able to write down. They have taught me the freedom in fighting, and writing every inch of your soul in a language that others may be able to understand. 

So thank you, to all those who have guided me, those who have inspired and awed me as they sat there telling me their stories, their journey and their hearts. We are the generation of irrationally rational and infinitely fumbling, but majestically made creatures, and I could not have asked for more in my life. 

Are you being honest with yourself?

We are told over and over again not to lie, that the truth will set you free, that it will allow a sense of contentment and peace within you and that lying always leads to more lies. But when I think of being told not to tell lies, it is often meant that I should not lie to others. Before I actually speak about what I want to, I’m going to tell you the truth, I’m a brilliant liar, and that’s why I hate it. You see, my family and the adults in my life that have over the years somewhat molded me, have to a certain extent openly tried to coerce me into lying to myself. And I went along with it for a long time, and then I woke up to this beautiful mess.

Again and again, society is basically selling us a lie and so is our economy. I’m not some anti –capitalist, I just don’t appreciate being told that the meaning of my life is my material stance. That the brilliance of my art is based on how much someone else is willing to pay for it rather than how much of me is in it. I do not like being told that I am meant to only love one type of person and that I am a rebel because I believe life is larger than the things of this world.

How often are you honest with yourself?

How often do you walk down the streets and openly admit to yourself that you are doing nothing about the fact that people are starving, that there are children who do not have books and we are skipping class, that maybe just maybe, it is not okay that right now a woman is getting raped by a man she is married to. How often do we truly look into a mirror, and look passed the basic flaws we focus on and stare deep into the eyes that the world sees, deep into the windows of a soul so scared of originality and wrecked by the idea that we just simply will not be liked. How often are we honest that we actually have a choice, a choice not to stand back and let the world go raucous, that like men and women before us we too have to ability to stand up and fight for freedom. How often do you let yourself truly express who you are without faking it, without smiling so that no one will ask, and without bending in order to remain unseen?

I want to see you, all of you. I am not scared of your nudity, because I’d rather know you than a doppelganger of what society thought to be a great person.

I’m never going to lie to you. Your education system wants you to become another numbed out version of your predecessors, that you are smart when you can tell them things they already know, and cocky when you allow yourself to think. We are not inspired to be creative, to reach beyond the bars of the prison cells that is our own intelligence, and briefly grasp at a sense of freedom, a sense of majesty and awe that one finds when expressing themselves. That we are not urged to do what we love, but rather do the things others love.

There is only one you, and the world deserves to see the wonder that is you, God did not create you in the mould of someone else, He took his time to create a wonder of this world. And it really is time you start believing it.

Seeking Humanity

In the deepest catacombs of my soul, burning like a fire that creeps up in the darkness of night, is a willingness to rise above all that I've been told I should stand for, all that I've been made to believe. Really child, this world is not as it seems.

The wrinkles on the faces of old women and men are not just signs of old age to me anymore, now I see them as writings of weariness, or loneliness, those wrinkles represent years in a world that took from the starving to feed the rich. A world that lingers on a billion things that will all eventually turn to dust when a sun we're egging on, eventually burns out.

We look after nothing, and we break everything for the simple reason of seeing whether or not we can put it back. Our faith is rendered to whether or not we can quote scripture, rather than whether or not we would give up everything for another.

I hold this world so dear to my heart, because I believe in everything we could be. We end wars so that we can start another, we believe in money instead of light and we dance in darkness instead of fighting for peace. It is as if our spirits have absolutely become numb to the very idea that we are more than just platinum cards.

As long as I live, I am willing to fight for a humanity that will feed the hunger, instead of allowing them to starve in order to prolong the reign of the greedy. We are not finite. Our effect on this planet is definite, and I cannot leave behind material things that simply will fade out eventually because someone else does me better.

When did we stop asking questions about this life, and instead start answering questions others have asked over and over again?

I sit in silence, I pray in darkness that light will remain throughout the darkness, that strain will be put on complacency and materialism, that we will rise above what others have told us matters.

Do we even realize that we are just here in human form, and that our souls will eventually linger on long after us, unable to reclaim the very things we found important on earth?

I wish we laughed harder, and loved further, that the bounds of our conscience were not only kept in tact by a laws in a constitution, but rather enhanced by a faith in the human person.
We have the ability to think, but we blind ourselves everyday in order to momentarily feel good. We claim intelligence, when all we harvest is bitterness.

I pray that we learn to love again, and to be better each day, to fight wars on poverty and hatred, and to fight them by living as models of what the human race could be.

It is as if I feel plagued by my own humanity instead of feeling empowered. I will not be complacent, I will not stand by and watch this world give in to itself. I will not be rendered speechless.