I've been struggling with a bit of a creative block lately. It happens to the best of us, so in order to wrench myself out of it, I've been exploring a variety of creative exercises to help get my head back to where it needs to be. From painting to writing to continuing to sketch out my dreams, each one has helped me regain my footing creatively. The following is no different.
I take an absurd amount of photos. Some I post, most I don't, left to sit in my digital album as 1's and 0's, taking up space in my camera. Each of those photos has their own particular story, the majority of them I can only guess. ...so, in the effort to strengthen my right brain's process of thought, that's exactly what I'm going to do.
This entry will start off with an previously-posted Instagram photo I took a few weeks back. Future posts will revolve around newly Instagram'd photography.
It was his last quarter. He had one chance left and after that, well...he didn't want to think about it. With nervous fingers, he dropped the coin into the deposit slot and slowly dialed the seven digits he was given earlier that morning, carefully making sure that he didn't accidentally phone up the wrong number. As his index finger released off the final button, a heavily finger-printed "4," Miguel drew in his breath and placed the receiver against his ear. A second later, the phone began to ring.
"Are you alone?" asked the voice on the other end of the line. It was distinctly muffled and laced with a grit that instantly set a pit in his stomach. It was a voice he had never heard before, but was immediately frightened of.
"Si. ...Yes," Miguel answered, trying his hardest to disguise the fear in his voice.
"Turn around towards the newstands across the street. You will see a man with a red suitcase approaching the corner."
"I can see him now," he replied, noticing a tall, gauntish man with chalk-white hair walking briskly down the sidewalk across the street. His bright red-suitcase contrasted heavily against his dark, slim-fitting suit and black gloves. His lips moved silently as he walked, and even from here, Miguel could see the hollowness behind his eyes. They were terrifying, as if made of the abyss itself.
"Follow him. Now," the voice ordered.
"Si, SenĂ³r. ...I was told--"
"Do as you're told and further instructions will find you. As will your reward." And with that, the connection was lost, preceded by a sharp click across the line. The voice was gone.
Miguel hung up the receiver and turned back to face the man in black he had been instructed to follow. Taking a deep breath, he began to tail him from the Old Town intersection with the payphone on the corner.
Miguel was never seen again.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Five Reasons Why My Dog is Worthless While Packing to Move
2.) He can't take apart a bed for shit. I mean, how hard is this? It's like, four screws. Worthless.
3.) He's lazy. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to infringe on your eighth nap of the day. I'll just step over your sleepy ass and grab my drill so I can take down these paintings. Don't strain yourself, it's all good." ...Worthless.
4.) He's nothing but an obstacle. Where do I need to go? Out the door. Where is he? Right in the middle of the door, and he... Won't. Flippin. Move. ...Worthless.
5.) All he wants to do is play God of War. It's an awesome game. I know this. But, seriously? Pack a bag, man. Carry a candle to the car or something. Do your part. Ugh...Worthless.
If I ever move again, at least I know what to expect. Jeez.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Conversations with Girls #2: Schizophrenia is the Worst
I'm just going to go ahead and lay it all out there. In specific circumstances, I hear voices. I know, I know, it sounds psychotic, but I assure you, although I wouldn't classify it as "normal," it's definitely not to be categorized as symptoms of any kind of severe mental disorder. Let me clarify.
I have what is referred to as auditory sensory perceptions during the state of Hypnogogia. Hypnogogia is the transitional state between wakefulness and sleep, otherwise referred to as drifting off, the borderland or onset of sleep. It's those few lucid moments as you nod off into never neverland, but are still somewhat conscious of what's happening around you. Aristotle, Iamblichus, and Edgar Allen Poe all referenced this state, the latter writing of the "fancies" he experienced "only when I am on the brink of sleep, with the consciousness that I am so."
Some people, including Beethoven, Salvador Dali, Thomas Edison and Isaac Newton have credited the hypnagogic state as fueling their creativity, through the experience of different sensory perceptions. Some are visual, such as tetris effects, random speckles, lines or tunnels of light. Others are audible, olfactory and thermal sensations, all of which are normal experiences within this state.
I am particularly sensitive to the audible perceptions, in that at times, I feel as if I'm in the midst of a crowded room with the constant buzz of low conversation around me. Suddenly, a random statement will pop out of the crowd, usually in an unrecognizable voice, not gender-specific, and will say something like, "It doesn't go there." Or, "I thought the same thing!" As soon as I recognize this statement, I switch immediately back into wakeful a state. I have a few theories about this, but it's all speculation and truth be told, I find it all fascinating. With that as the set up, I give you the following conversation:
It was our third date and things were going quite well, for once. Our first two dates consisted of a few drinks with a lot of conversation, and we laughed a lot. She was funny, and I really liked her for it. So while laying on her couch during a movie, we were quietly drifting off to sleep. I know I was struggling to stay awake for a good part of the film and I'm not sure if I ever actually fully drifted off, but I was suddenly aware of of that crowded room sensation and then my dad's voice, ringing in my head clear as a bell. I can't remember exactly what he said, but it jolted me and I sat directly up. I know I startled her a bit, so...well, here's how it went.
Her: Are you okay?
Me: ...yeah...I just, yeah...
Her: What's wrong?
Me: Nothing. I just, ...it's okay. Sorry, I'm just really disorientated right now.
Her: Did you have a bad dream?
Me: No, not really. I just...hey, do you mind if I step outside and make a quick phone call?
Her: It's 2am.
Me: I know. I can't really explain it. Hold on, it'll just take a few seconds.
Her: Who are you going to call?
Me: My dad.
Her: ....
Me: It's early morning for them. Honestly, he could be up. Just give me a second.
Her: Why are you calling your dad? Did you have a nightmare about him?
Me: No, it's not...it's just a strange feeling. You know what? Nevermind, I'll just call him later on.
Her: What's all this about?
Me: It's nothing. I know, it's sounding all dramatic. I don't mean for it to be.
Her: You know, I saw you.
Me: Huh? What do you mean?
Her: Well, one second you were there with me, watching the movie. The next, you were just...gone.
Me: Yeah...
Her: Like, completely gone. Your eyes. It freaked me out.
Me: Sorry.
Her: You have to tell me what's up.
Me: Um...it's kind of hard to explain.
Her: But it wasn't a nightmare?
Me: Nope...it's different.
Her: I'm a nurse. I can take it.
Me: Okay...okay. So, have you ever heard of hypnogogia, ...I think that's what it's called. Basically, it's the transition between wakefulness and sleep. Do you know what I'm talking about? That weird, transitional state?
Her: I think so.
Me: Okay, well some people...not all...but some, including myself, experience a sensory perception during that state.
Her: ....okay?
Me: I, for instance, hear a crowd of voices. I feel like I'm in the middle of a crowded room. Then all of a sudden, one distinct voice will stand out among the rest.
Her: ...
Me: Yeah, I know what it sounds like. "He hears voices...looney." But it's a real thing, and not a crazy, mental-disorder thing. They actually classify it as a sleep disorder. And I talked to my aunt about it once, who's a psychiatrist, and she said that it's completely common in people who are more right-brained orientated like myself.
Her: Hmm.
Me: I've had it all my life, and I'm kind of used to it by now, but I just heard my dad's voice in the crowd, and I've never heard my dad's voice in that state before. Usually it's a random voice, like someone I don't know.
Her: You hear voices.
Me: Only in that state. I know, it sounds weird....
Her: Yeah, it's really weird.
Me: Well, c'mon, I mean it's kind of like dreaming..
Her: No, it's really weird.
Me: Okay...
Her: I'm pretty sure you should leave.
Me: ...Seriously?
Her: Yeah, here are your movies. You should go.
Me: You're a nurse. You said you can take it.
Her: I can take most things. Not, "I hear voices." That's some Beautiful Mind horseshit.
Me: Whoah, settle down.
Her: No, you're freaking me out. You've got to go.
Me: Wow, thanks for being so sensitive about it.
Her: Seriously, go. Now, Crazy.
Me: I'm not...fine. Wow, thanks for the hospitality. See you later.
Her: Probably not.
And with that, I left. And I never heard another word from her. Not one. I'm pretty sure that in her mind, I'll always be the schizo that she almost started dating. I mean, that's a pretty ignorant judgment, especially after I tried to explain it the way I did, but whatever. I wouldn't want to be with someone who's that close-minded about things anyway.
Oh, and for the record, these "voices" have never told me to do anything. Half the time, I barely remember what was said. There's an entire investigative methodology dedicated to the study of this phenomenon. Look it up, as it gets incredibly interesting. Maybe she should read up on it one of these days. Although, I doubt it.
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