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Catholic Crow
Imagine there was a saint for whom it represented the coming of age for a youth through the correction of sexuality.
Now there’s nothing wrong with expressing your sexuality, hyper straight or whatnot, but keeping it true requires solidification and adjudication.
Think of how the church would go wild for this sort of conversion idea.
They’d dedicate a church.
Too bad it’s been done before.
Not the first priest to come out the tabernacle.
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Homunculus
What if this representation of the sensory info the brain centers are innervated with is the representation of what centers we use to think about performing actions? Words, lots of words, but in a nutshell, we sense the world with what we control. We make our body interact with itself, and odd how we can’t tickle ourselves (but I disagree). We create our own sensations at times by using old sensations that kept burning on. Even the patterns we created piece by piece were getting stored as one larger pie.
The pizza pie isn’t just pizza, I mean the idea of pizza is, but the ingredients and preparation that define it is what makes it a pizza. We attribute every sensation of the pizza in our head, so we remember how the cheese not only tasted, but smelled, looked, felt, etc. No wonder they say we only have 5 senses, because what else could we do to a pizza? We could imagine it, but does that count?
Some claim they can sense the forces of other people, but perhaps when asked to prove it, they have no method or results. Some claim to read minds. It’s the reality that exists, and the conscious that tries to prove it. We know we think, but without a definition to follow for our own sakes, it just feels like existing.
Existing isn’t consciousness we assume. I think we can have a little person in our head that does an action first and then it feels the consequences before the real life version. I think that doesn’t work out for either of them in the bad consequences, especially when chaos leads to instability, and instability goes off the rails. I would be afraid too if my fear made it inside my head.
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Expectations
They might not be comforting or witty or someone I know. They may not be perfect, my platform to stand on, or someone I can control. They might make me shift my priorities. I might need moments to myself. I may be misunderstood. I may be in a battle with myself while they want me to be unoccupied. I might be lazy and boring on days they want excitement. They might be worse than me in everything they do. I might misjudge them or lose them entirely. I might have to do more internal work and rituals to change my headspace. I might need to let them walk away or call them back. I might not like all their friends. I might not have all the answers nor do they. They might speak a language I don’t know fluent. The little things might tick us off. The desire to be alone may be filled by someone else for the moment. I may never get my life where I want it. I might always fight the same battles. They may not like my music. They may not like any music. Something might be off about them. My messages may go unnoticed. Our time might mean nothing.
It might still be worth defying my expectations.
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Dread
I feel a wave of dread flush over me. It isn’t a fictional telling, just a perspective. When I imagine a flock of birds flying up in the sky, I imagine skyscrapers and small birds colliding with them. Large birds too, like geese, swans. I imagine at least less than there used to be. At least hundreds at some point. Maybe this was inevitable, so all I can do is move away or turn my head. It puts me into a pigeon-hole.
Conservation shouldn’t be this difficult, but the pigeon-hole is just the hole the pigeon can make a hole for itself. We navigate around each other, and I would say orbit, but this requires space we don’t always have. That skydiver who didn’t clear the bridge, but has done it for years. When we fail to take the right spaces, the spaces take you.
It feels good to submit to sleep sometimes, knowing maybe I will show back up tomorrow. Sometimes I dread going to sleep because I know I won’t like tomorrow. Every day can’t be perfect, but we imagine perfection like we have already seen it. Since nothing is going to surprise us, surprises are just new world views we can’t deny. The truth can get stale if we know it won’t change.
Even your favorite foods might change one day. What stops you from changing your favorite color?
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Making it Through
Infinite doors, but where do they lead? Getting over a hard day is about as strenuous as any trade or career. When you are bogged down by those invisible chains, it feels like the air is thicker, steps are heavier, and each door feels like it leads nowhere. Perhaps those things you once enjoyed no longer call out to you. The time passes in mysterious ways, slow sometimes and fleeting others. The middle ground is that acknowledgment that holds you back from enjoying clarity. It feels like you have to run even when you stand still.
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Writing as a Hobby
When the average artist suffers in their artist block, there is but the madness-consumed fellow that breaks the mold. This archetype finds random and chaotic source material and samples bits and pieces together to mix wonder. This slow cooker lets the moment settle itself, and only manifests what the recipe calls for. Oddly, the objectively lost find anything to scour.
My travels on this place called me to maintain an internal dialogue. In order to sate my own interests, my taste in writing is kept impactful. All the words matter, but only some stick. Sometimes, the most obscure details are best left in plain sight. Others, we wish the search was worth the navigating. If doesn’t hurt to have a treasure map, especially when we have an idea what the treasure is worth.
Each book has to sell like gold. That’s the figurative carrot on their figurative stick.
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“Roommate Assistance”
This one is short. When you room in college, you’ll usually have a roommate. You can’t always find a roommate out around walking on the street unfortunately. With the age of technology, finding a roommate has never been easier. Each student is coded into automatic systems. It’s as easy as prison.
Arranged marriages, dating apps, roommate assistance, what’s the difference?
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Progress is a Portal
When you make significant progress in the real world, it shifts the way the rest of us perceive living, and what it means to be a alive. It can change our daily lives so much, that we no longer do what we used to do. From waking up and brushing our teeth, to not having the energy for it, we adapt to our environment. I like to imagine a comparison to humans and birds, that our cars and houses became roadblocks that they were required to adapt to for survival, and the trees that we had to chop down to get to where we are now. It screws over the birds twice when a human makes progress, and someone out there was screwed too. I feel like humans screw over everything else, because to make one thing is to destroy something else.
I never really answered why progress is a portal exactly. It is because it takes us away from everything else, becomes untouchable for a moment, and lands anew in new lands. The end result maybe far beyond our original scope, and the definitions just lead further in. We gain a foothold of knowledge, seemingly uncovered rather than discovered, and lose it all upon rebirth. Somehow we recognize the patterns whether from youth or from our ancestors before us. In a way, we know our progress could stand the test of time too if we found it strongly enough. Not only can we persist, but we may indeed carry our belongings past death if we saved it for later. This is how we remain on Earth through the ages as humans, for our needs stem from the same tree.
The portal part is the transition itself. The change is only noticeable after the transition has begun progress. It makes a significant impact like a real portal noticeable in the world, a black hole that takes up more space than it looks in that singularity. It stretches something until the ant who only needed one step to walk the gap needs hundreds. More breaks are required on the way, and thus we never stopped sleeping– setting up camp for the night. The progress will come day or night, but usually not both at once. We will recognize that the pursuit is futile at some point of time, and our mind and body cave in. We cannot keep the singularity afloat for long, but instead we make segments like bamboo and shoot our chutes into the sky defying gravity, the pull of singularity.
