I Wanted to See This for Myself

And that’s what very few people really understand.

Here’s a thing you didn’t know about shy little KJ – I love experiences, but mostly, I love experiencing, something I myself was would be aghast with disbelief a few years ago. But while many people change, I mutate, not necessarily into something terrible. On the contrary, every passing day I feel more human.

Society’s idealistic approach to brainwashing people is that we all have to be perfect and play our roles in The System. That’s fantastic in theory, but there’s a flaw: Those creative visionaries of The System are anything but perfect themselves. And as it turns out, neither is The System. I asked once abufares, at a time when I was hitting some low notes the past year, how does the world work? To which he cunningly responded It doesn’t work, it gives the illusion of it being working.

Which is pretty fine, actually.

If we look at the greater scale of things, whatever we do here is merely a microscopic representation of everything else outside this planet. Divine symphony or not, The System works because of the natural chaos of things.

Going back to my original point, which I didn’t yet make, is that I wanted to see this “nonsense” myself. And a good opportunity to do that was to exploit my one year of unemployment where I had the finances to back it up and the lack of commitments to a wife or girlfriend or children. Admittedly I haven’t done a particularly good job – I haven’t done drugs nor have I bothered to check into a nightclub for the sake of binging and waking up in a morgue – but I have gained more insights about myself that I would probably have not if I had followed the way The System should work. That’s not to say I am now not missing out on what could have happened had I been part of it, either.

If I am not making any sense then it’s alright. It will be over soon.

Here’s food for thought: If The System should only function in a certain way then why do all these other variables and imperfections happen? My two cents: It’s because it’s the inherent natural order of The Process that The System does not function as it should, which is exactly why it is functioning as it should.

Storyteller Lost in Stories

Storytelling, it’s a gift, an art, not taught nor acquired but grown. To tell a story is to live the story, to be the characters and feel the events, to hold the strings yourself but give them to your characters when needed. To tell a story is to learn the language of the people – not necessarily in writing, and there are a million ways to write, but in painting, in arts, in simply speaking.

My greatest storyteller is Granny. The greatest story is me.

There is no need for modesty, but there is no  need to be arrogant either. We are all our own greatest stories. We live us, and, often, others. We live and breathe the characters we encounter. We hold our own strings and pass them to others when we can’t participate in the play any more. We tell our stories in gossip, in diaries, in blogs, on twitter, in tears while we shower, and in our prayers or hangovers.

We’re walking books, being read and reread, by ourselves and others. I write a lot, though my English hasn’t been particularly getting better, but that doesn’t really matter to me right now. I haven’t read books for long, but that’s another story.

I have a twitter diarrhea, and when I’m not, I am writing elsewhere. I have my note book. I have my iPhone notes. I even have, believe it or not, a secret blog somewhere else where I rant in short bursts about stuff I wouldn’t write about here. I tell stories in photos, while talking, and I make stories while listening to music. I create videos in my head, collages of images or people, with the music. I repeat a song several times until I make the right mental clip for it. And I am sure some of you do that too, or do it in other ways.

My story now is at a standstill – it’s the long stretch of events that don’t make sense in a book. The boring chapters or often the mentally draining chapters you want to get rid of very soon and move on to the new stuff. But you know you cannot skip these chapters because the ending won’t make much of a sense without this subtle built up. Like a cook describing to you what are the ingredients and then sitting there making you wonder what he will end up cooking.

Though, if I were you, I will take those and make my own recipes. There is a finite amount of ingredients, anyway. Lots of stories to tell.