Friday, October 31, 2014

More on Purpose

I realized today that I am a hypocrite.

For all that I believe that life has no true purpose, and that we are simply an inevitable accident of the laws of physics that govern an infinite universe which existed long before we ever did and will continue to exist long after we won't, I want there to be a purpose. Perhaps not destiny, not a predefined purpose, but I'd like for there to have been some point to my existence. In short, when all's dead and done, I'd like to have mattered.

Have you ever tried writing your own obituary? I did after watching this video on change. And it was depressing. Not because thinking about dying is depressing...after all, death is inevitable (or is it?), but because it was an incredibly boring read.

I would like to have influenced a generation, started a revolution, or even just entertained a bunch of people...just mattered in some way, made a difference.

Someone once asked me why I write, maybe this is why. Maybe this is just my shout out demanding the universe notice me (yes, I recently read The Fault In our excellent read, but one that could have you thinking of depressing things such as your own obit). I guess I just want to be remembered. I don't even know why: it's not like I'd care once I'm dead. And yet, today and now, it does matter to me.

Here's hoping I either do something spectacular, or that I outgrow this feeling.

“I am convinced that it is not the fear of death, of our lives ending that haunts our sleep so much as the fear... that as far as the world is concerned, we might as well never have lived.” ― Harold S. Kushner

Edit: Just read that this conflict between there being no meaning in life and our quest to try and find one nonetheless is called Absurdism...has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Saturday, October 25, 2014

Golden lining

Through stencil leaves, I spy
Golden clouds in a pink sky
As the sun sets: it was a beautiful day.
But it is time now to say good-bye.

Thursday, October 23, 2014


Coo, chirp, chatter
Even the air is atwitter
With rumors of change spreading
Like a smile on rosy cheeks

Gloves, sweaters, scarves
Their hugs keep me warm
As fires frolic cheerfully
And winds whistle gaily

Red, orange, yellow
Confetti falls all around
The Earth is lit up beneath my feet
Who knew death could be so pretty?

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

The Hill

At the edge of a crater lies the last sanctuary
Surrounded by the new world.
And here you will find a girl
Lost in her little piece of heaven

She never slept under the sky before
It is, to her, a giant pool
She dreams of diving into
And eating ice-cream cone clouds

As she lies on uncut grass
Drifting away to the lullaby of birds
The breeze carries away her worries
And she thinks of nothing at all

But as beautiful as the sunset is
It signals the end of the day
And Cinderella must go
Taking with her only

A glimpse of a world
Before human civilization
Before the stars were cloaked
In the glow of progress

Note: This wasn't meant to be anti-industry, but it makes me sad to think of how beautiful and alive the world was before we "paved paradise and put up a parking lot".

Saturday, October 04, 2014


I was raised a princess
With the heart of a warrior
So come my steed
Let us dance into battle together

Never have I felt so alive
My fingers tremble
With sweet anticipation, never fear
This day I shall ride, I shall fly

Purr, rumble, then roar
The power within you
Pulses through my veins too
Today, I am unstoppable

Don't tell me to be afraid
So what if I fall?
I'll wear my scars proudly
And get right back on

No longer the good girl
I am wild, fierce
A whirlwind made of fire
I am untamed, finally free

Note: An ode to my motorcycle. But also inspired by the tale of Eowyn, Shield-maiden of Rohan.

The Duchess


On lonely days, 'tis never more true
I dream of adventures to places unknown
This world simply will not do,
So let me conjure up my own.

Perhaps what sets humans apart (if I may indulge in such a claim) is our ability to imagine.

For what is hope, but the imagination of the optimist? And what is worry, but that of a pessimist? And what is an idea, but the dream of a curious mind, and a fairy tale, but that of a fantastical mind?

Imagination, to me, is the store of memories that no one else has, of stories that never happened, secretly conjured and hidden- treasures for a rainy day. A haven in which some choose to escape, where others find themselves.

Images never seen and music never heard. They're all hiding up there just waiting to be shared. But few of us do. Most are too scared of judgement, or worse, too busy to dream.

I implore you today, to go ahead and explore your mind. Daydream - it isn't such a waste of time as you've been told by those who wish you to imagine no other life, and no other reality than the one that serves them so well. They are afraid of thinkers, of dreamers, and would have them locked up, laughed at for being different. For that is where revolutions are born, where inventions created. New ideas, new philosophies, new schools of thought, all trees that began as little seeds that germinated in the minds of people who cared enough to water them.

So dream on and remember that this world would be a far less magical place without the stories, the ideas and the art that man dreamed up. For the possibilities there are endless, the beauty as incredible as the mind that created it.