I'm a realist, mildly an idealist.
My ideas create a mindset that allows me to express feelings
But I build up a wall, high as a skyscraper..I stand, as a realist I know if I jump, I'm bound to meet my maker. I don't think idealist are weak.
I just think they escape the honesty they seek.
You don't walk a straight line in order for you to finally reach your peak.
Obstacles come and go, water is a need if you want to grow, you can't have a lightbulb without an idea and expect it to magically glow.
I know every action I do and especially when I am wrong but I just want rewrite all my wrongs, they inspire all of my greatest songs.
Optimistic that I'll make it, I just need more effort than 50 percent
because you get what you put in, as a realist I know if you put in half, half back is all you will ever get.
People remember you mistakes, the heroics they just simply forget.
I can't stand when people think it's okay to live a life without any regrets.
Sure things happen for a reason and karma "may" have you enemies morally bleeding, but your ideology sounds misguiding and thought process misleading. Karma is an excuse to allow a higher calling contribute to your spiteful abuse, you don't want the crime on your soul so you allow the angels to fatally shoot. It's fine, before we die, we all commit a crime.
Women kill, men steal, just being in love should require you to do time.
Born a realist sinner...far from an idealist winner
Success doesn't come over night
The sweet life doesn't come until after you've made your dinner..and cleaned the plate, but we're never satisfied...nah, we going to probably eat again late.
Work hard for the dream, don't just rely in faith. A realist knows she may not show up, even when you scheduled a date.
It's all love to the victims, stuck in a fiction. If you hate this piece...your ignorance got you unable to listen.
Not my problem though. I'm speaking without any permission! I like that idea...oh Damn, wait...I think I jus become my own contradiction?
...forget it, I'm healing, my words and unpredictable wisdom, I am still dealing.
Insanity is a fear that is expressed towards you when others have confusion
A realist, an idealist..no one is right...our concepts to each other seem all an illusion.
Your mind's eye is turned inward
Looking at a distorted image of yourself
Droplets of imagination
Falling into your pool of thought
Static brain ripples
Crashing against the sides
Of your mental boundaries
Those self created boundaries of
Exposing your ignorance
Standing outside the walls of your mind
I see the real you
Through nothing more than a peep hole
Looking deeply into your exposed soul
All the while you stare judgmentally
At your minds eye image of yourself
I can see your light
The part of you that is diamond like in clarity
And until you awake
With full realization
I am alone
train of thought or loosely structured essay? it could be either...
i’ve been watching interview after interview and thinking gratuitously as a result. imma try and sum this up as best i can because i think it’s an ambiguous topic at times that we actually have at our fingertips and yet don’t really always address, understandably though. culture is something you’re entrenched in, inescapably at times, and when you’re in the middle of it sometimes it’s hard to see the way every day and everything is a possible opportunity for affecting the main narrative.
first thing i thought of when i started listening to eddie huang and heems discuss growing up in the 80’s and using their forms of media representation (blogging, food, music, etc) to introduce different ideas to mass audiences, was that kids in the 80’s and 90’s have really been given a valuable (though sometimes harsh) lens to view the world through. in that two decade time period media gained fuel and tech rapidly increased, and we had this rare upbringing of being detached enough from media and technology to develop authentically within our environments, learn to think critically and observe what was going on around us in the world, and yet also had enough exposure and time to evolve with the rapid change of technology to understand it better, and learn almost by necessity how to utilize it to our best interests, ration parts of our identity from it, and share parts of our identity and contributions into it.
we grew up in this transitioning time, when technology and social media hadn’t yet taken as rooted a role in life yet, but were still a big part of our lives, and where we harvested some, often much, of our values and ideas from. people began realizing soon that we had access to mass information, and the spreading of. this was a tool our parents hadn’t had at our age, so we were kind of the pioneers w/lotta internet frontiers and subcultures.
for instance, the internet has managed to foster a subculture of kids and teens finding and learning about their identities. before the internet, queer was a slur, some older people still think it is, but now it’s being reclaimed by the community, and there’s a widespread narrative from queer folks addressing their identities and re-purposing what ignorance made a weapon.
before the internet, there was no mass outrage being sparked over rape being brought to justice or innocent POC behind bars or the quality of education, or culture and global issues, these are discussions that have emerged from the information at our hands paired with our world views and personal struggles to navigate that world. and in it’s own way that’s power. we have a form of mass media where, if we try hard enough, our ideas, influences, power to empathize and communicate to spread ideas and educate on a widespread basis, can be influential. we made it what it is, and we mold it into what it is going to be and the ideas it will spread hereafter.
what’s interesting to me about this power of the internet, is dominant vs subversive narrative. 80’s/90’s gen reached teen/adult years as the US went into a period of political confusion/a dominant media main narrative of misinformation. hearing eddie and heems talk about what it was like to be a POC after 9/11 at that time was intense. eddie talked about rich white 1% kids in florida displaying an unfiltered level of brutish animosity after the event, being that many of the people they knew and their families’ claims to wealth were being threatened.
he seemed mostly horrified and interested simultaneously in the way they simplified “their problem” to a sweeping generalization; people of color, similar to reagan’s own scapegoating of POC in his personal secretary’s diary. obviously that’s wack. but what he said about these kids really intrigued me because i felt like he put words to what i’d observed myself about many middle class and upper class kids, and recently been contemplating how to get around; “these kids are like…media-trained by their parents. [meaning those who benefit from dominant/oppressive culture use the confusion tactics the media uses to run people in circles about issues to avoid actually discussing them] you could talk about these things with them forever and you’ll never have a real discussion with them until you stop taking them seriously. they understand exactly what you’re saying, they just don’t give a fuck.”
it’s compelling that 9/11 created this thought point for both of them, born in the same era, that caused the incubation of ideas surrounding dissemination of tolerance and thoughts about avoidance of discussions surrounding racism/classism/oppression in the US, and how to use education and communication to change it and repurpose allocations of power taken from cultures by the main narrative.
recently, i’ve definitely been aware of these points eddie made, in that i spend less time responding to others’ thoughts that come from ignorance or anger and more time building my own. less time responding to trolls and more time trolling trolls because i just don’t have time to waste farting around with dipshits when i could be reaching and talking to people who get it and also want to engage in discussions and environments of tolerance and respect instead of more ignorance. social media gives us that horizon of expansion, those resources, and hopefully that ability to recognize that despite the people that make us sad and cranky there are all these people still to be heard and to hear and to respond that we can reach, and the power is in our hands, it’s just about how we allocate it.
when i was about 17 i met a guy who really changed my perspective on what you can actually do to make your own voice. he had a successful career, he was a natural with business, well known for his graffiti, and pretty much lived and dressed well for free because of his social reputation and involvement in menswear. all these different factors of his individuality came together to form a career and reputation he was able to live…better than most people i knew, off of. and he had dropped out of school before he’d even walked across the senior final stage. that impressed me. who knew you could be that successful without a high school diploma? pretty fucking sweet.
we now know how to utilize social media and work your way up based on who you are not what job description you fit. how to create forms of representation and send a message through art, and actually make a living and have everything you need through applying social media to your pursuits. with the unstable economy and prices of school people began to become more aware of how they could get educated outside of an institution, get a job they loved without going to school for it, have a career because of who they knew and their networking abilities as opposed to their resume. and with how much a lot of us have to say and contribute that’s a valuable venue when used correctly and used as a vessel for the right message.
and i think, this mixture of being connected but not completely has given us a rare perspective and ability to contribute in many different ways, with many individual voices, to the narrative. we have the ability to, essentially, drown out the main narrative which we all know is a bunch of bullshit.
look at the way we even just use social media like tumblr and facebook to fuck around with advertisements and different perpetuations of culture in media, like those gifs of billboards that have a picture of a cat on it instead of an advertisement, or clipart that has been fucked around with. how, for fun, some people fuck with facebook and click on ads that don’t apply to their interests to confuse the site when it tries to collect their personal web browsing data.
in such simple ways, we tweak and rewrite the main narrative. and then we can share that with millions of people if we want to, and they can all share that too and so on. social media can be such an amazing tool. because someone can share a post on tumblr saying “does anyone else feel like…” and 50,000 other people can reblog that and suddenly the idea that you’re not the only one with this running around their mind is planted in 50,000 different minds at once. that’s basically creating awareness in a way.
i’ll stop thinking, but i still have tons in my head in response to all this stuff. just wow, really interesting. i’m getting all inspired by these 80’s babies bringing the power back to the people by dominating media with their insights on how to use it as a crux to transition into change via widespread communication of ideas. this is kinda a crucial point in time when we have an advantage and weapon, to create the world we want to live in, with.
The gray light filters cold through the blinds.
You look old,
Keep sleeping off last night’s debt;
your consciousness and your pale blue eyes
to midnight ignorance
and a few hours of freedom.
A few hours of feeling strong but yeah that doesn’t last long,
and by the time the gray light filters cold through the blinds
your bold laugh has died away;
all I hear is your fragile breathing.
I’ll stay barefoot this morning and I’ll wash your plastic tumblers again,
toes curling on the cold tile and fingers growing old under the faucet.
I’ll hum the song you were singing last night and remind myself to
tell you about
your lovely cracking voice.
It says that you’re happy but your hands were so cold
and your face somehow too old
and your eyes whispering no,
there’s never been a choice.
I hear you, I see it.
But hear this: I don’t believe it.
Still, I’ll be the one to laugh at your jokes and dissolve in the smoke,
to hold your fragile wrists together and keep your skull intact.
It’s only half an act.
The other half is me watching your chest rise and fall in the cold gray light,
wondering at your heartbeat,
You were the rebel, the prisoner, the fighter for a people without rights,
a people who fought valiantly and with hopes and visions of equality.
Such a pity, the greater population of the world lived in ignorance
and denial of the existence of the endless fight and plight of a people.
War in the streets, the blood and bodies of men, women and children
was common sight witnessed and price paid to gain basic rights of human.
After over a quarter of a century and pressures building to gain your freedom;
unconditionally, you arose like the phoenix and emerged to greet sunlight.
A continuing mission of freedom and liberation of a people oppressed,
remained upper most in the heart and mind of one who would not rest.
You emerged from the darkness, seeing the walls of apartheid standing,
standing strong against your beliefs and be architect of it's destruction.
Who could foresee that the island with bars housing a man with resolve
would foster a journey of a prisoner to wise and great leader of a people?
Pity the day that goes unnoticed,
The sunshine dancing on blind eyes.
Mourn the sky for existing to the point of ignorance.
But cheer for the fox that dances at twilight,
For the child who still sits in awe of life.
Root for those who know little and embrace it all.
I would enfold into myself, I swear.
Crumple under that weight, till I'm nothing.
I would just drown inside this lie I wear--
Suffocating sea of white, blank feeling.
I could soar above those shadows, I could,
And then what numbness would awaken me?
Die with eyes wide open, when all is good,
When I have given all I am to be.
I just close my eyes and dream of blindness,--
No doubt the brightest dove is more opaque,--
For ignorance is the greatest kindness:
Infinity is beautiful when vague.
I can't hear the music birds sing at dawn.
I can't leave this hole until night is gone.
We are two soul mates separated by youth and ignorance
for no one but you and I can see
how truly meant to be we've always been.
If you'd just tell me that
you're happy I could leave you be
But you've revealed to me
your consistent sadness
You've let me see
the dark parts that I love
My lips are sore from
repeating the same words to you
My heart burns as if
I haven't expressed it well enough
I would love all thyn flaws forever
I would let you bury thynself in my soul
You could put your sadness there
and I could keep it cold
So many questions
I am ok without answers
for they may hurt worse
Your mind is sharp like that tack on my stairs I forgot about yesterday when it pricked my heel and left a trail of blood drops on the carpet.
I picked it up and placed it on the counter but it dropped again back to the stairway where it will lie in wait for another victim
How words can cause a storm to brew and minds to wander to places untrue and vividly destructive
Blatant in ignorance tripping through mataphores and unreal resonating
I should have looked away but I kept on listening to your blind lust and misunderstanding
Prick prick prick my conscience, my knowledge of what you will never understand, until darkness consumes you and I weep. For your mind has shattered.