Vacant Spaces

(this post is recycled from an old blog, but fits here how I want it to)

Months go by and no one takes notice that in this infinite cycle and amongst the patterned pieces of our stop and go world, nothing is ever the same twice. Each breath you take will never mimic the previous one. Every blink of the eyes will happen at a different speed. Every emotional outpouring unto some unsuspecting victim's ears or unto the attentive aural faculties of a factory of empathy and advice that is a friend will always have a different outcome. No two seconds are the same.

We live in a world where time is measured, but never repeated. There is a phrase people say when a special small instance of time has been ruined. They say "The moment is gone." That is infinitely true for everything. Each second will never be repeated. Every moment is its own. At the very moment i write this it is 6:10pm, March 20th, 2010 and when this minute is up, never again will it be 6:10pm, March 20th, 2010

Utilize life.

Let life be life.

Be you.


It has been a long time since I last had an entry. I don't see the 6 months between this entry and my last entry as being a big gap of nothingness, but more so vacant space. Just because I did not do anything in that entire time, it does not mean that there is nothing there. They are but vacant spaces occupied by invisible ideas that have yet to see daylight. Whether they ever will is yet to be answered. Our entire lives are full of ideas and many of them escape us before we have time to do anything with them. Yet, it does not mean they cease to exist, it merely means they are floating in the vacant spaces, waiting for the cosmonaut of our mind to explore the unknown regions of our inner thoughts and bring back the artifacts of ideas from within the depths of these vacant spaces. Yet, some of them will be floating aimlessly forever, but it does not mean they are gone forever, they remain within the realms of imagination and improbability, for while things may be improbable, nothing is impossible.

Hypochondriasis

The human brain. It is perhaps one of, if not the most remarkable biological organ. While, it does not act alone, as a car does not move alone but moves via a combination of axles, wheels, pistons, etc. all working together to move the vehicle, it cannot function without an engine, just as the body cannot function without the brain. Now, to keep up with the car analogy, a car cannot function without wheels or axles or what not(I don't know much about cars, so eh, whatever), the body cannot function without a lot of the organs: heart, lungs, liver, etc., but the brain is the process center. The brain is where everything goes in and out as electrical impulses and is translated as movement, breathing, heart beating, vision, etc. Not only is it what runs the body, but it is also what we use to store information and knowledge, to create ideas, to be us. My brain is one that I very much like having, and I've always found myself to be pretty smart (not in an arrogant sort of way, which is probably why I come across as pretty stupid sometimes), my brain has always had something against me, and this is what it is.

Hypochondriasis: morbid concert about one's health especially when accompanied by delusions of physical disease.

People who suffer from this are called hypochondriacs. Now, not many people know this, I don't think anyone really other than my mom knows this, but I worry about things waaaaaayy too much, so I pretty much fall into that category. Accompanied with general anxiety disorder (undiagnosed, but I'm pretty sure it's the one thing I actually have), and the occasional panic attack, I freak out about things way too much. I should lay off caffeine, really, because it makes me feel really weird and only makes the anxiety worse. Every odd ache or pain or whatever, I automatically assume I'm sick or have some kind of terrible disease when really, it's just an ache or pain. And the internet doesn't help (screw you, WebMD), because I can look something up and I have either the common cold or AIDS (not really, just the dramatic turn my mind kind of takes.) So, I don't know, maybe I should go to the doctor and have myself checked out and see if there really is or isn't anything wrong with me, but even then, will it help or will I keep freaking out? It's a psychological thing, which is why I don't like it, because 1) I don't like psychologists, at least for certain situations, and 2) I can think of every reason I shouldn't worry about things, but I still do. I can't seem to talk myself out of this one. It's almost like I want there to be something wrong with me so I can say "HA, see, I was right!" to myself, but, well, then there would be something wrong with me. Really, I want it to all be in my head, not a brain tumor, but in my mind, rather. Just me imagining things, making it all seem a lot worse than it actually is, or at least I hope so. See, there it goes again. I'm pretty sure there's nothing really wrong with me, or I would know it by now. I will probably end up going to see a doctor eventually (i.e. once I have money to see one) for a check up, and from there I will either be reassured that's nothing wrong, feel fine for a week, then begin freak out again, or I will be told something is actually wrong with me. Hopefully it's the former.

Life-->Death

Passing on. Pushing daisies. Going six feet under. Kicking the bucket. Dying. However you wish to say it, it all means the same things. We are born to die. Of course, at birth, this is not our initial purpose or a purpose at all, but it is, technically, true. Lately, I can't help but seem to be thinking about death waaaayyy too much. I go through motions. I'll have mini-break downs where I will think about my death, and how to cope with this inevitability. Now, obviously, once I die, I won't be having to cope with anything because, well, I'll be dead, but it's just the very thought of it that tends to stir my emotions in a way that not many other things can. I continue, I calm myself down a bit, tell myself I shouldn't worry about it, try to distract myself and move on. Then, I think about my mom, my grandma (the last of my grandparents), my aunt and uncles, my great aunts and great uncles (who are all 75+ now), my friends, just people I know and I start to get somewhat emotional again, and eventually it all loops around and gets back to my own inevitable demise.

What is it, though? Is it the thought of not being alive anymore? I mean, we're so used to it, right? All our lives we've been alive (redundant, but you get what I mean). We don't remember anything from before we were born, hell, from before we were 2, and that number usually increases as we get older, so all we know is living. What is it about death that is so scary? It took me a while to figure out, but I'm sure this is what gets most people (of course, most people probably don't think about this as much as I have been lately, at least not at my age). I'm not scared of this temporary shell called a body rotting in the ground and becoming part of the Universe, it's what lies beyond, if anything. (This all ties into religion and a huge part of why people have religion, but some of that is covered in the entries below.) People are simply afraid to believe that they die and nothing happens, so they turn to something to comfort them, and there is nothing wrong with that. They live their life happily, not afraid of what happens when they die because they believe that they get to go to Heaven, which is a nice thought, whether it be true or not. I will not lie. I am afraid to believe that I die and nothing happens. It is the unknown that has us locked tightly in chains. It is not dying that scares us (I guess how we die does), but it is what may or may not happen after we have left this world and a thought, almost inevitable as death itself, of loneliness in death.

Go to school. Go to the mall. Watch TV. Walk down the street. Look around you. Everyone you see from the newborn babies carried by their mothers to the elderly folk on the power scooter will eventually die. While this may sound morbid, it is true. Everyone has to go through it. It is the irony of life. You are born to die but you don't live to die, you live to live. You live to be happy. You live to accomplish everything in life that you want to. You can't live in fear of something you have no knowledge of whatsoever. I can't live in fear of something I've no knowledge of whatsoever. Either way, when it happens, will I know? Will I, or my "soul", or whatever, go anywhere? There's only one thing to do and that is wait and find out. Until then, I live.




P.S. I also realized I just published this on the 8th anniversary of 9/11. (wow, that long already?) Wherever all of you who lost your place in this world are, may you be well, or rest in peace, whichever one it turns out to be.

The So Called "Truth"

Knowing and not knowing. Ignorance is bliss. You want the truth? You can't handle the truth. Who decided this? Why is honesty so hard? Yeah, sure, you tell so called "little white lies" in order to preserve somebody's feelings, but are you actually preserving their feelings, or yours? In most cases, honesty is all I've asked for, but I don't know how much of the time I get it. There are times when I know for sure that someone is being completely honest to me, I just wish it was always. Why can't you give me your real, and totally honest opinion of me? Don't fake friendship to fulfill some sort of false sense of morality in the pit of your stomach. I'd rather know why someone hates than why they faked liking me. To "put up" with someone isn't to be their friend. I don't know how many people actually do this, but by lying to others, aren't you in turn lying to yourself? I also believe that by hating someone, you must care about them to some degree, but that's for another rant.

Let's be honest, who hasn't lied? EVERYONE lies. We all might as well be politicians for as much as we lie. To get out of a previous engagement, to get out of work, a relationship, whatever, we've all lied. I can say I've lied, but I can also say I have probably been far more honest so far than a lot of people have been their entire lives, and I'd be lying right now if I pretended I had more in my mind right now to keep going, but I am tired, I want to listen to music, relax, and figure out what I'm going to do about my current situation with people and their false assumptions of me. This post wasn't so much insightful as it was just me releasing a bit of steam.

Who or what is God to you?

Were you raised in Catholic household? Perhaps Christian? Methodist? Muslim? Since birth, has your family imposed some sort of belief in this Almighty and Holy being known by only three letters simply as God and/or perhaps a book called the Bible? Where do you come in? Do you continue on this path of something you have been taught as you have grown up just because you're used to it? Are your opinions based on what you grew up with, belief, faith, or just a fear of there being nothing after you die?

I was baptized Catholic (How many of you knew this?). I was raised somewhat Catholic, I suppose, with God present. His name was there. We did the cross "Father, Son, Holy Spirit" thing. I prayed. We didn't go to church often, but I prayed. As I got older, my mother started going to a Christian church, and so did I. For me, waking up on Sunday morning to go to church was more of a chore than something I found satisfying. I guess the only reason I liked going to that particular church was because I was of the age where I was with all the other children, and they had board games and video games for us to play. This message of God, these words from the Bible, all of it seemed foreign and uninteresting to me. I never really cared, and it never really made sense. So starting early, I pretty much abandoned organized religion, or any form of religion, really. This "Bible" book is a great work of creative writing to me, but nothing more. It holds nothing of truth or relevance to my world (but I respect whatever relevance it holds in yours).

There was another piece of the puzzle though, and it's name was God. Instead of giving another autobiographical anecdote about why, I'll just jump straight to the point and say that for years, I've believed in THEE God. The same God everyone talks about. Creator of the Universe, the Earth, Life. Everything. Ruler of Heaven. The Big Guy. The Lord. Our Father. God. Only in the past couple of years, really, have I dissected this entire concept of "God" and examined it piece by piece to figure out what he/she/it means to me, and I've yet to figure it out. Now, first and foremost, I do not need anyone to "save" me, that's all religion speaking. Secondly, as stated before, I do not care for your "bible" or what's written in it, so forget the book. I went through my phases of "I don't believe in God, per se, but I do believe in some kind of Higher Being." Agnostic, they call it. Well, apparently, agnostic means "without knowledge", which I highly resent. If I am to make a decision on what I believe, it is going to be not only with knowledge, but a lot of thought and myself is going to go into this decision. So, at that point, I decided, "well...just forget it for now." Then, not so long ago, I decided that I am going to believe or I'm not going to believe, and I decided that I was going to believe. Atheists, they call them. I would have to continue to lie to myself if I said I didn't believe in any sort of God, but rather, in nothing. Who am I to claim that he doesn't exist? Then again, who are you to claim that he does? So there goes that. Let's go back to square one and figure it out. I've always thought that one's idea of who or what "God" is was a personal one, but I haven't figured out how to define it for myself. I assumed the role of Atheist and it kind of stuck, and people still assume that's where I am at, but honestly, that was short lived. Then yesterday, in fact only hours ago, I read the script to a play/short film a good friend of mine had just finished writing a couple days ago.

It is simply entitled God. It is short, but bountiful. It is an examination of one of countless theories about what happens after we pass on from this Earth. It follows a man, whose name we do not know and do not find out, after he has died at a relatively young age. He is in what he thinks is Heaven, waiting to see God, which he does soon thereafter. He has his conversations with God, raises questions, and his temper, about why things that have happened during his life, and now his death, have happened. Conversations are had with questions answered and explanations given. Then, the play ends with a monologue from God. It is more so the context of the dialogue than the actual premise that I related to very much so. It outed some of the thoughts I've had in my head about the subject and has caused me to examine these thoughts more closely. I still haven't decided what I believe or what God is to me, but I know eventually I will. Either way, we all die eventually, don't we?

My Name is Erick

My name is Erick. You may know this, or you may not. If you do not know this, then hello. If you do know this, then take a moment and think about what you know about me. What you actually know. Is it much?

The world is full of humans, and being such, we follow the inherit laws of human nature. It is the way we act because it is the way we are. When we meet new people, we have first impressions. First impressions are usually a determiner of what we think of that person, what we will think of that person, and whether we will get to know them or not. People are so busy these days, they hardly have enough time to get to know themselves, let alone other people, and that is something that is hard to deal with. A person will take what little time they have spent with another person to decide who that person is. They will make assumptions and base any opinions thereafter on those assumptions. Try and dig deeper, and you may find that people are more (or, sometimes unfortunately, less) than you thought they were.

Here, on this blog, I will lay out my full and (almost always) unbiased opinions on whatever subject matter strikes me that day. Things that, if you know me, we can talk about, but probably never do.

Hello, my name is Erick, but there is far more to me than just my name.