So the hours dissappear.
Its almost appaling to see what we have done to ourselves. It is the 'first world', it is a world where 24 hours are just not enough...where time melts into almost meaningless actions, motions, simple, trained routines that dictate our lives.
A culture where staying alive is all that ever matters - that gives this sickening rise to an utter lack of individuality, where people run in circles and smiles are things only dreamt of.
I respect the bohemian guy with his thick locks flowing freely or bound by colourful cords of self-confidence, the time spared for a polished guitar slung across his shoulder, the attention paid to the natural, earthy tones that colour his clothing, the beads, the rope like adornments and the so very calm leather sandals that speak of a simplicity unknown to many.
I respect the alternative chick barely clothed in black leather and netted stockings, multiple piercings that commemorate difference, pink streaked hair that celebrates this ceasura in the monotony of black ties and plain T shirts.
There is a confidence, a sense of self worth to be emulated...there is a desire to be different, bend the bars of convention that we may look out onto to world and see a melange of beauty and independent joy.
These are thoughts that flood my mind, my crazed mind that sits shrivelled up in my head. It begs for release, the room to bloom happily to give immaculate birth to ideas corporeal. But it sits and it is my friend, my magic carpet that yet possesses the wonderful abilty to carry me away from a world that is all too real.
Its certainly odd how perspectives change so quickly! University's workload increases exponentially and a new job has proven itself extremely demanding - this is why I think this way. I have but little time in the day left for things that constitue a generic definition of the term 'life' and so I am upset with the world.
But wait, breathe, think and by the time some shaft of light beams through this that I percieve as darkness, I will be all happy again.
Ahh the joys indescribable of random writing...how therapeutic indeed.
Its almost appaling to see what we have done to ourselves. It is the 'first world', it is a world where 24 hours are just not enough...where time melts into almost meaningless actions, motions, simple, trained routines that dictate our lives.
A culture where staying alive is all that ever matters - that gives this sickening rise to an utter lack of individuality, where people run in circles and smiles are things only dreamt of.
I respect the bohemian guy with his thick locks flowing freely or bound by colourful cords of self-confidence, the time spared for a polished guitar slung across his shoulder, the attention paid to the natural, earthy tones that colour his clothing, the beads, the rope like adornments and the so very calm leather sandals that speak of a simplicity unknown to many.
I respect the alternative chick barely clothed in black leather and netted stockings, multiple piercings that commemorate difference, pink streaked hair that celebrates this ceasura in the monotony of black ties and plain T shirts.
There is a confidence, a sense of self worth to be emulated...there is a desire to be different, bend the bars of convention that we may look out onto to world and see a melange of beauty and independent joy.
These are thoughts that flood my mind, my crazed mind that sits shrivelled up in my head. It begs for release, the room to bloom happily to give immaculate birth to ideas corporeal. But it sits and it is my friend, my magic carpet that yet possesses the wonderful abilty to carry me away from a world that is all too real.
Its certainly odd how perspectives change so quickly! University's workload increases exponentially and a new job has proven itself extremely demanding - this is why I think this way. I have but little time in the day left for things that constitue a generic definition of the term 'life' and so I am upset with the world.
But wait, breathe, think and by the time some shaft of light beams through this that I percieve as darkness, I will be all happy again.
Ahh the joys indescribable of random writing...how therapeutic indeed.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home