Gravity?

I don't believe in gravity.

With gravity there's no imagination, and I can't take my feet off the ground.

It's rather cloudy where my head is, but I can still see the sun.

Which is more than I can say for you. 

I've got the dreamer's disease and there's no cure. I realized that today, as my mind travelled out of the classroom windows directly to the cold outside. My hand wandered around my notebook, not taking notes, but jotting down whatever came to my head first. I heard the word "gravity" being thrown around among the people who were actually paying attention, so I wrote it down. GRAVITY? What do we need gravity for? 

Why do I have to be the down-to-earth, practical and efficient machine that I'm being bred to be? That's what we're all bred to be. We are raised in an environment where we need to focus on what they tell us to, and the kid next to us is competition. I don't want to compete. Why can't we all just share our ideas and create something amazing? Isn't that what brings the human race forward? If all teenagers are machines that are made to function in the exact same efficient manner, then who is going to be the one kid to invent something that will change the world?

I don't want to be part of the machine-making. I don't want to be one of the machines. That's why I choose to defy the gravitational pull of the system, without failing out of it, and do my own thing. Imagine where we would be if schools decided to have a larger focus on creativity and imagination? We could go far.

And then you wonder why the human mind is so limited.

Exploiting Literature

I hate analyzing literature. No, I'm lying: I hate overanalyzing literature. I'll buy coffee, or, dream big: I'll buy PIZZA for whoever shares with me the LOGIC behind sitting in a room and attempting to interpret the reason why the author placed a comma where he placed it or why he chose one word instead of another. It makes it really hard to appreciate the novel. The themes, symbols, and metaphors make the text richer and more meaningful, and I'm all for that, but there's no reason to pick at them like they're a piece of lettuce stuck between teeth. The mere act of searching for symbolism is like searching for a significant other: it kills the whole experience.

For example, when people want to find a date and use online dating services (or any kind of service) to do so, it becomes something unnatural. You're forcing love based on similar tastes and traits, you're not feeling it through chemistry or a natural attraction. You would basically be forcing yourself to fall in love. It's the same with incessantly searching for metaphors and symbols in books. If the author wants you to see it, it will be there. Right there. You shouldn't have to sound like you're on an LSD trip when you're talking about what you think one word could mean. Let's be honest here; if you write a 50,000 word novel you're not thinking about what each individual word could mean in a thousand different interpretations. Forcing yourself to find meaning kills the whole purpose of that meaning being there.

A theme or an idea that is planted in a text is not there to be dug up, extracted, and exploited like gold in a virgin land. It is there to leave behind an effect, or an aftertaste of the idea; the true essence of something the author strongly believes in. If the reader becomes psycho about finding things that might not even be there, they'll miss the point. 

And to think that during that wasted time they could be reading another book, or falling in love.

Let's Get Together and Squeeze the Cute

What's so endearing about something that is cute?

I got home today and my little maltese puppy ran and danced around me like it was some sort of ritual. She worships me. I looked at her tiny eyes and her furry face that seemed like it was smiling at me, and at that moment I thought: nothing in this entire world is cuter than this. 

Then I started thinking: what makes something "cute?" Why are some animals simply naturally cute? Humans definitely aren't cute. Well, they are until a certain age, then they go through awkward phases with hair and teeth all over the place. Then humans may even become beautiful, but it is hard to find a "cute" adult human. My dog is an adult. She's considered fully grown, four years old, but she still looks like a tiny squeezable puppy. She is so adorable that I actually clench my teeth when I see her.

But this is so weird! Why is she cute? WHY? I simply can't understand. I can't help but think it's something internal, that it's in my own brain, that her cuteness comes from the way I perceive her.

Also, why do we feel like we need to squeeze cute things? Why. Are. They. So. Squeezable. 

That's just something I'll never understand.

Let's See How Long This Lasts

I am actually hoping this one's a keeper. Ever since I was a little girl I've had this creation instinct. Alright, I'm making it sound fancier than it should be. Basically, I get into project mode. What project mode means is that I stop everything I'm doing (or should be doing) and start a project, like a scrapbook or photoshopped pictures to hang on my wall or, well, a blog. I've had blogs before. All were anonymous, I made up some cheesy name, posted fictional stories and refused to let anyone know that they existed. That was a few years ago, and now project mode hit again. I'm hoping that since this one is under my real name I will actually start posting more.

Maybe I'm just wasting precious sleep hours, who knows. We'll see in a few weeks.