Re: The Moment Jars

To answer my own question first, I thought it would make me into the man I wanted to be.

Now to address Devon's questions on her provocative post. This a continuation from my comment, which went something like this (I had planned on copying and pasting it but it didn't work out):

Cherish? This is a two part. I was a little boy in Disney World with my mom and some friends. We wanted to go on one last ride, Mr. Toads Wild Ride (which doesn't exist anymore), before the fireworks, which were about to start. We thought we could make it. My mom knew we wouldn't, though she didn't try to stop us. When we went on the ride she acted like it was the best ride ever; she was very funny. In that moment she made it the best ride ever. When we came out and looked up, we saw that the fireworks had just finished. I didn't care though, and although I was only a small child, I realized how much my mom wanted me to be happy and how much she loved me. Though I didn't fully realize depth of this at the time.

A few years later, I still remembered that moment. And then, just sitting at home, I was able to understand more fully just how much my mom really loved me. Suddenly, a flood of moments filled my mind and I began crying uncontrollably, for my own personal psychological reasons. Then, of course, my mom found me and asked what was wrong, I couldn't explain myself to well, but mostly I felt guilty, and her loving concern made it all the more worse. I still think about these two moments.

I Wanted to be More Structured

"...and thus leaves me free of catatonic vice..."





I've never really been able to hold a schedule for more than two weeks. There are a few reasons for that. What's yours?

Initially I Viewed It as a Test

I think each title will be an answer to the question my blog perpetually asks.

Unfortunately, this entry's title has little meaning for the content therein. I recently saw the movie 2012. It was OK. However, I felt I could produce a much more interesting and provocative storyline than the writers for the movie were limited to, due to the need to make the movie accessible to the average movie goer.

My plan was to create a three part series spanning over three forms of media. First, a literary work based on the Apocalyptic theme, including the plans for survival and the destruction of society. Second, a graphic novel depicting the initial post-apocalyptic struggles and the reconstruction of society. Last, I wanted to record an album that drew on both themes. Although I am excited about this idea, I am also reluctant to commit to it. I don't know if I can stay motivated enough to see it through, or if I will have to time to work on it.


In any case, here is what I wrote as an initial test of my ability to see the idea through. I wrote it just a couple days afterward.

It was dark. Early morning probably. They were strong. Something my assets at the time could do very little about. In that moment I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be strong too. They forced me, because I was valuable to them, or more accurately, they thought I was valuable to them. However, using the very skills they wanted from me, I knew I wasn't.

I understand things, thinking men's things, in a different way. I hope to overcome my tendency toward the abstract when writing, but unfortunately my experiences have led me to develop "trust issues," as this state of mind is often called among casual acquaintances, which I hope we can be. If not now, then in time. Please, just don't judge me too soon; it makes me depressed. For someone who has "trust issues," I sure do like to talk about myself. No matter how much I write, I always seem to slip back into the same patterns. Maybe it's not such a bad thing. Please share your opinion with me later. I'm much more apt at conversing on the subject of thoughts and feelings than I am at describing concrete things. So, that's that. I've always wanted to be involved in psychology, and it's my own elusive psychological make up that interests me the most. (An example would be that right after writing the previous sentence, I wondered whether writing it was an explanation or an excuse.)

The essence of it is that I'm lonely. Powerfully lonely. That I understand, I just don't understand why. I've strayed far from the narrative, but writing these things is important to me, although I wish it weren't. Dark, blinded, slightly bound, and traveling. I hate their strength.

"Shut up, you fool. You are strong."

I'd been talking out loud.

I'm still not sure about this, but I would love to see a creative idea through to the end for once. Even if it isn't all that great.