Playing With Words

I know that I have been a little lacklustre lately, but with school and family life just keeps shitting on your time.  Anyway this is a segment I am going to try and do every money. Just write a bit till I hit a point and post it.

 

Did you ever look in the mirror and see someone else. Something you never thought you would be? It is like your 5 year plan was just that, a fucking plan.  A plan never set into action and in your early twenties you stand there looking at your face. Your face is cracked, covered in physical and mental wounds with the aging of a forty year old heroin addict. Bags hang under your eyes and you toss back another bit of the blackness, of the coffee. So you run to class to obtain an education they tell you that you need. You go to their institutions, take part in their social structures and one magnificent magical thought that is out of the box. . . and they call you insane. You see thier doctors, take their pills. Pills, pills, pills. You go to their jobs, you become their socially constructed ideal robot. So as you sit here looking in the mirror at someone you no longer know, ask yourself first

 

1) Is it, NO was it worth it?

and

2) Who the fuck am I?

 

We all come out the same, and each of us are to blame. Individualism is a color, uniqueness simply a texture, freedom is an illusion. Underneath our exterior we are all the same. We are all moulded by the man. We are fed their media, their news, their fiction. The dominate ideology destroys anything unique. Nothing is original. Time is money, and money makes the world go round.  Sick capitalism in a candy coating and we eat the shit up like a box of Twinkies.  We are the working class, the dreamers, we are the 99%.

 

 This is how they plan to kill us. This is how the plan to kill it. . . creativity.

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Why do you write?

We like the idea of fame. We like the idea of equality. We like the idea that someone will pick up the shit we write on a old napkin at a restaurant when we are hunched over and half in the bag. We imagine that someone will look at it, and they will get that same feeling. You know that feeling, that feeling I got when I first read Fight Club (Or even watched it). That moment when you are like “This is one of the best pieces of literature I have ever laid my eyes on.” The truth is the world isn’t that simple. I see so much talent on here, so much wasted talent no one has picked up on. Why? It is simple for every person out there that write for enjoyment and puts out a marvellous piece of literature that could be the next “great American novel” there is thousands of other people who waste peoples time. People who write simply with the idea of making money. Now I am not saying that we all shouldn’t pursue profit. The fact is like it or not we live in a capitalist society, and in turn we all have to become capitalists.

So what I am trying to say here is the world is set up in the illusion that fame is easy. I mean look at TV you see 6 people living in a house getting hammered drunk and causing drama and they have a net worth higher than most of us and we work our asses off day in and day out at jobs we hate purchasing shit we don’t need that truly ends up defining who we are. We have no sense of equality because we all want to get ahead. We all want our shit published.

I don’t know maybe I am just some major Fight Club buff, maybe I took the book too seriously as a cautionary tale of where our society is heading. Maybe I looked at it too hard in a Marxist lens of literary criticism.

Then again maybe it is true, maybe the world sets us up with this idea that we are all unique and special, that we all can be famous. Maybe that is why we are such a mad generation. Maybe that is why Occupy Wall Street was such a major movement. Hard work these days just seems like it becomes watered down in all the crap you read.

We all dream of immortality, we all dream that when we are turned to dust people will remember our names. That is the fear I have, not of dying but that I won’t be remembered as providing a significant contribution to society.

Now that is fucked up, but that is the world the media has put into us. They set you up for greatness, and BOOM! The truth is the world isn’t full of opportunity. When everyone has access to the world wide web and the same opportunity hard work becomes 50%, the other half is luck. That is why you should chase your dream for your own personal satisfaction, and if someone grasps that wet ink stained napkin then maybe they too will find enlightenment.

Life is a journey, burn your torch to light the path for yourself, and if you guide others along the way. . . let that be your legacy. The money? It’s just fucking paper with ink, it’s just like your napkin. It is only valuable becomes people value it.

My point place your own value in your napkin, and the rest just falls into place.