Where does wind come from?
And where does it go?
I’m not really sure that the wind even knows.
May I ask you a favor?
When the time is right,
Take me where the wind blows.
Let me introduce myself.
Let me pick you up at seven.
Let me show you a good time.
Let me put my arm around you.
Let me drive you home.
Let me show you how to have fun on the way.
Let me watch tv.
Let me leave the seat up.
Let me eat.
Let me compliment you today.
Let me hold it all in.
Let me live.
Let me come home late sometimes.
Let me explain that.
Let me think.
Let me change the subject.
Let me pack my things.
Let me cry.
Let me say goodbye.
Let me lie.
Let me come back.
Let me talk through the door.
Let me introduce myself.
Let me drive you home again.
Let me come in.
Let me show you an even better time.
Let me say it wasn’t my fault.
Let me say I’m sorry.
Let me love you.
Let me have a second chance.
Let me hold your hand nine months from now.
Let me see them on the weekends.
Let me apologize.
Let me back in.
Let me learn from my mistakes.
Let me start over.
Let me introduce myself.
I don’t wanna sound like a wiseguy or anything, and I’m probably not the first to think of this, but I think I figured it out:
I think that how fast time moves is relative to how much you think. Like, the ‘speed of thought.’ Everything is relative (is viewed in a context), and basically you have to filter all of your experiences through your mind in order to even experience them, so from the inside looking out, the whole world is in your mind (“it’s all in your head”). If you’re stumped on a problem or worrying about something, time may pass very slowly whereas if you’re just having fun and just enjoying the moment, or to exaggerate, if you’re sleeping, then time will pass very rapidly. If you dream than you spend more time being asleep. Thinking more slows down time whereas simply reacting skips over time. People have said regarding crazy moments that “it was like slow motion. I never thought it was going to end.” And conversely there exists “driving hypnosis” where you end up at your destination in the blink of an eye because you are so used to taking the same route that you require zero thought to drive it. This line of thought leads to the creation of memories as what allows us to place ourselves in time. Without any memories, there is no time. Babies do not have memories, and thus have no concept of time (and aren’t really much alive yet, like, viva la vida etc…). And they are also really stupid. But on the other end of the spectrum you might have someone with Alzheimer’s who does not have the ability to create new memories, and is, although it’s painfully sad to say, pretty much already dead (from their point of view). So the next time you fall into routine, or order the same thing for lunch, or drive the same way home, or do the same activity with your friends — stop… and think about that.
Make a memory.
EDIT (3/16/14): I came across this video that has a much more informed position than my generalized curiosities. It’s a fun watch if you have a few minutes, however the title is a bit misleading…
Life is a one-liner.
No it’s not!
Well it’s not now. Why’d you have to ruin my one-liner? I had a perfectly fine one-liner until you came in with your stupid line. It’s not like we can just take it back. We’re stuck with it.
Well you don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t exist. Without that second line you would have never been able to make that third line. Maybe we ARE stuck in this together, but it wouldn’t kill you to see the good in it.
…Oh, what a mess. look at all these lines. What are we going to do?
We’re going to deal with it.
Can’t we quit without saving, or ctrl+alt+del?
Could you be able to sleep at night?
No… probably not.
I could… I’m scared.
If it’s really what you want then, then I’ll do whatever makes it easier for you. I don’t get much sleep anyways.
I’m going to miss you.
You don’t have to.
I want to.
Ready?
Yeah…
–END TRANSMISSION–
A love poem from a person with Dyslexia:
Roses are red,
Violents are blue,
Sugar is sweat,
And so are you.
A love poem from a person with ADD:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue–
But not only violets;
The sky is blue, too.
A love poem from a person with OCD:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue–
Roses are red,
Violets are blue–
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I plucked off the petals,
And sorted them too.
A love poem from a person who’s Bi-polar:
Roses are red,
I wish I were dead.
Violets are blue,
I’ve got the happiness-flu :)
A love poem from a person with Terret’s:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
F@$%!
…I love you.
A love poem from a person with Schizophrenia:
Roses are red.
Roses are red.
Roses are red.
Roses are red…
“Art cannot be paraphrased.”
When night falls dark and shrouds all hope
of mending what has gone awry,
Remember it takes time and faith
to know just when the moment’s right.
Cocoons unfurl new dreams of love.
Above, they dance and light the sky.
You are who I’ve been dreaming of.
You are my butterfly.