If you actually comprehended what she wrote, you would realize that response makes no sense.Originally Posted by hollywoodwanderer
If you actually comprehended what she wrote, you would realize that response makes no sense.Originally Posted by hollywoodwanderer
4w3-5w6-8w7
I just had to respond to this again because of how much it resonated with meOriginally Posted by esper
4w3-5w6-8w7
Love the last part. The "clash of intellects." This is pretty much the only reason I have come to appreciate logic as much as I do.
But, for a certainty, back then,
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves...
Yet even then, we ran like the wind,
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under cerulean skies...
There are parts of this that I like a lot. Like, I try to create "balance" in my life, and appreciate stability, but whenever I get it, I inevitably feel bored, restless, wanting something "more." This is part of what fuels my addictive behavior. I have a lot of internal tension that just DEMANDS that I do SOMETHING when things get stable; it just feels boring, pointless, like I'm not getting anywhere.
But, for a certainty, back then,
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves...
Yet even then, we ran like the wind,
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under cerulean skies...
Yes, the image of it is awesome.Originally Posted by Gilly
4w3-5w6-8w7
I concur.
And although I am not sure this is an adequate response, or if there is such a thing as an adequate response - something I wrote when I was 16 (and thus pre-socionics):
The evening sky was beautiful. Grey oppressive clouds formed a cocoon of obscurity over the world, black trees like fragile metalwork, like paper cutouts, arranged themselves in perfect composition. The road was a continuous brushstroke of ink and the taillights of cars trailed in lines, red roses sprung from asphalt. Suspended in the air were minute lanterns, white fairy beacons heralding our procession. And the most glorious touch was a strip of cerulean blue, rich and brilliant, against the ominous grey hand stretching for the horizon.
My senses play games with me, bewitch me at odd hours, lead me into strange habits - I write to capture them in words, in linguistic imagery, I paint to capture them in form and colour, to invite the world into my rapture. I know I seem strange to some of my peers, my behaviour and airs are a little off-putting. They regard me as some eccentric who tinkers with words, pronounces synonyms for them in english class, waxes deliriously on subjects they couldn't give a damn about and generally estranges myself from them, embedded in a world of books and esoteric art, flummoxing films and peculiar tastes. Not the outlandish shocking kind, but an oddity attenuated to the music of a different sphere.
But at this moment, I couldn't give a damn what they think. I pity them that their lives run on such narrow tracks, that they are content with the mundane, that they can't see the innate beauty in every second of the world, that they can't feel the spirit of transformation and transcendence.
Looking out into that kingfisher blue, into the halo of streetlights that absorb some eerie magic, my world is enriched. I crawled from the womb hungry for experience, thirsty for beauty; a vampiric lust to absorb the ephemeral wonders within me. Even when my body is stationery, my mind transverses all boundaries. And the world in its construction, its mystery, is a playground for the child to frolic; a feast to satiate the most divine of famines.
()
3w4-1w2-5w4 sx/sp
So I was thinking about what esper said. And what "okay" meant etc.
And it reminded me of how to me I've got this kind of "level" of where I want to be things at..
It's like in a group of people - I want everyone to be responsive, ready to act, and yet able to hold back. And yet move forward at a moment's notice.
I want people to be able to quickly respond to everyone - I want people, to be able to make sudden non-minor changes. I went people to be able to be patient, and wait.
Thing is, that disturbs people who like to "chill". To me I hate people wanting to chill. It's kind of like saying I like to dismember myself. It just gives an impression of "what the fuck".
And to me it's like people who like to chill, like to build these groups of people who like to chill, and then they all get into it, in this kind of incestuous way. Where because some people are doing it, more people like to do it.
It's like situations - where one person starts having a problem, then another, then another, then another. Then you're like hangon - why has everyone got a problem except for me.
And then it gets to you, and it's like "What's your problem?" and I'm like I don't have a problem. Why are people so busy having problems.
Yeah, let's all have a group bonding session. Discuss our problems. Talk about how fucked up we are. And how there's no changing it. How we're desperate, and forlorn. That's nice. That's sweet. Like drinking urine.
In the end we all have to rise above such things. You can't go griping over minor things. You can't go continously adjusting clothing if it's just going to slip down again. Get a grip, get a hold. Take control over what you're doing. And make an impact.
The thing is - if you define normal - if define how it is that you expect people to behave towards you. They'll start to adjust, to a degree. Some people, they're so far gone that they can't understand. They're dead weights. But most people won't to do well. They want to be good. They're only bad, because they don't understand.
And so as you teach people, as you help people, as you raise the bar. And enable it to not slip down. Then there's only the minor tricklings of self-defeat, of doubt, and uncertainty, that can be soothed with simple pleasing comments..
And a higher equilibrium is reached.
And if an "environment" is constructed, when people are off base at first, they'll soon start to adjust to it. Get used to it. They'll start to understand. Things will make sense to them, and they won't want to leave.
Unless you tell everyone to go fuck themselves, push them all away, and stand alone, on your own.
Unefille, what you wrote was so beautiful. I often felt like that when I was around the same age you were when you wrote that.
Also, Esper, here is one SEI who read all of what you wrote.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
John Muir