The Xbox 360 Agenda

Well, the title says it all.

Last Saturday, as an early Christmas present from my mother, father, and a few other relatives, I received an Microsoft Xbox 360; one of the newer, sleeker kinds, with about 250 gigs of memory space. Since then, I've been playing it quite a bit, and as such, haven't made the time to do much in the way of updating my blog or any other such internet entity. And for once, I do not apologize as I have been thoroughly enjoying myself, glued to Call of Duty Black Ops, Red Dead Redemption, and Grand Theft Auto IV.

As of right now, I have no concrete plans for any future feature-length articles or short stories, but I can guarantee that there will be more coming your way. If not this month, then you'll see much appear on my blog in 2011.

I feel slightly bad for some reason, as I haven't left the house in the past 2 days. In fact, I'm still wearing the same shirt I was wearing 2 days prior, I haven't showered in the same amount of time, and I have yet to change out of my pajama bottoms. Oh well, that's what Winter Break is for, I'd assume. Or all breaks, for that matter (excluding vehicle breaks).

Not all of my time has been wasted on Xbox, however. I have broken a string on my guitar since, but I have been using my mothers guitar as to continue my musical endeavors and have started on 2 new songs (despite the fact that I haven't finished the other 7 or so that I have on the go). I've also written another poem since last Saturday, which would be the previous post, Whispers of the Truly Inaudible (which is dedicated to my girlfriend), for those who would like to check it out.

I should probably see if I can make some plans for today, so I don't simply slip away into the lifeless and anti-social void of Xbox. Hmm.. maybe I'll invite someone over, and we'll play co-op Nazi Zombies.

That wasn't sarcasm, either.

Peace out, blue planet! You'll be hearing more from me soon enough!

Whispers of the Truly Inaudible

The simplest of words could not put it in context;

The most complex of words simply cause all to fall vexed.

The words in between show me no satisfaction,

In conveying to you my heart-wrenching attraction.

The words which I seek are words far out of sight,

Whether simply of fear or what 'they' say is right;

Yet the show-up in symbol and acceleration of art,

Simply does not explain, and displays but a part.

Whether happy or sad,

Angry, or mad,

The bright-side, the dark-side, the good and the bad;

When I miss you, I miss you,

When I'm with you, I find,

You leave for a moment,

And enter the back-door of my mind.

The forefront I use to concentrate on my task;

To see behind what's in front,

And tear-away all mens masks,

Yet in limited doses,

You permeate my minds eye.

I enjoy your hypnosis,

So I never ask why.

Anonymously Untitled

Like the back of a cart during the bubonic plague,
I’d have to say a dead mans story is long,
But very vague,
As we learn little from the lessons of history,
We treat is as an obsolete and unsaid sort of mystery.

The difference between black and white,
A bird in seat or flight,
A tense and dangerous human right,
As if as much as we can see,
Is the boundary of our site;

If we treat each other as we would like to be treated;
Why does a teacher tell us to remain seated?
They don’t say sit back and relax in any context,
Instead they emphasize not to use bad words or obscene text.

Am I not allowed to tell you to sit down?
Tell you I owe you nothing but a respectable frown?
I owe you nothing but decency,
Not a mind filled with verbs in which I hope others translate boundlessly.

To say I sleep with a pillow,
Is like saying I steep tea like I reap benefits from the luxuries,
Of today’s modern cars and inventions.

To assume I immorally influence a young child in growth,
Is like assuming I don’t walk the sidewalk to remain safe,
From the wind of wild traffic to my left and to my right,
Or to say we don’t disobey ancient conventions,
In which mankind is barred from flight.

Between SpaceX and NASDAQ,
And the jealous old man named NASA,
“Good Wall Street” ain’t looked at,
As the media keeps its mind where its eyes remain fixed;
On the flaws and the findings,
The wars and the signings,
The fear of dead children whose pics we find blinding.

The new Rules of Engagement,
Angers militaristics in danger,
Of bullets and shrapnel they volunteered to go face;
They are angry at the awareness created by J. Assange,
When murder was collateral damage, to which they are fond;
It’s strange, as truth is now treason,
And a man needs a reason,
To liberate information we deserved in the first place,
Yet our apathy, indifference, and anger at ourselves,
Commits us to a stage of denial within book-shelves,
Inside which we fear ‘it,’
We fear ‘them,’
And ‘there’ shit,
Yet we hallow the ground in our mind in which we hide action;
For we fear that we’ll be charged for our thinking’s infractions.

Please reassure me that I’m free,
And that I am my own faction.

The Generalization Delusion

Human kind is fucking insane.

Even the most enlightened of us are fucking insane. Insane in a better context than the rest may be, but insane none-the-less.

How many examples of our misled insanity can you spot in a day? I wouldn't be surprised to know that the more cynical persons of society may make a dreary game out of it. It can be hard to spot, from the pedestal of a blissfully ignorant Westerner, but once you break that invisible barrier of a face-value societal interpretation, you tend to see through everyone's veils. I catch myself staring in a mirror sometimes, seeing through my very own veil into what I feel I've hidden from even myself, and that simple idea that I can hide such meticulous yet important details of my own persona from myself frightens me. Why?

Because I am aware that I am one of society's exceptions; someone who, even if I delude myself with such an interpretation, sees differently, and in my personal opinion, much clearer than many others do. It scares me to think that even my philosophically fine-tuned mind can't spot some of the prominent flaws within myself until they make themselves clear, and leads me to understand why there are so many men and women who walk this Earth, blissfully unaware of there great ignorance. Whether that ignorance leads to arrogance and a self-centered interpretation of reality, or the illusion of egalitarianism and understanding, is irrelevant. Although one may be better than the other, grading either would only be buying into one of society's greatest flaws, even if said flaw is verbally, as well as mentally convenient.

It's a strange paradox, however; and my notion seems to be to follow the rest in deviating off the beaten trail. I am fully aware of the fact that I may be deluding myself with sources and influences and opinions which are not of sound state; or, perhaps, no opinion can be of sound state. In fact, that seems to be the case. No opinion is fact, and all fact is derived from opinion; or, at the least, from perception. Even the most unbiased of works are biased, even if in more of a third-person context, considering the works sources may have been poisoned with the emotionally-tainted opinions of there creators. Some may not quite understand what I'm getting at, so here's an example: Winston Churchill, demoralized and emotionally beaten during the Blitz of 1940, writes of the resilience and unity of the British people in the face of such disturbing odds. When he says such a thing, he generalizes, as old, pre-war rivalries between individuals and factions are more than likely to be in continuation despite the greater conflict, and as such, on a microcosmic scale in comparison to the bigger picture, the British people are not entirely unified, which would, in a sense, render Churchill's statement verbally incorrect, as well as emotionally and perceptively biased, as all he is able to see is the bigger picture. Albeit as convenient as the statement was, and may still be in giving a 'gist' of the era's dark and brooding, yet resilient atmosphere, it leads future, self-labelled 'unbiased' historians to take the statement and interpret it as an overlying fact, in the faith that the majority of the British people truly were reflected by its words, and as such, live in the idea that the 'majority rules.'

Democratically speaking, the majority does indeed rule; yet historically speaking, this renders the minorities of the circumstance and situation voiceless, as they are forgotten by history as simply not being. In the event they are remembered, they are seen as exceptions; in a sense, a part of the era, but exempt from the popular bigger-picture.

Life's complicated and confusing when you get into details; hence why many delude themselves by conveniently generalizing.

Chronic Skipping

Who am I, and what am I?
I am Kyran Paterson-King, and I am a chronic skipper.

For those of you who are not familiar with the term, being a 'skipper' means you don't attend classes at school when you decide you don't want to attend classes at school, no matter how 'important' they may be.
A lot of people see skippers in a bad light, assuming them to be lazy, and bad when it comes to academic progress. Now, some skippers may be lazy, and as such, that could lead to their being bad when it comes to academic progress, but honestly... out of the 2, I am very good at academic progress. I don't find myself to be lazy overall, but I do support laziness. Not to the point where it becomes self-destructive, but to the point where it denies the idea of a linear schedule from time to time, in favor of unstructured time, which I find is good for intellectual growth and stimulation, as well as good for maintenance of physical health.

Now, I'm going to admit, not every time I skip is in favor of unstructured time on my part; sometimes I skip for the purpose of a creative pursuit. For example: lets say its 8:45 AM, and my class starts at 9 AM. I am eight blocks away at home, and have really got into writing a new blog post, or poem, or something of that nature. Quickly, I make the conscious decision that said creative pursuit is more important to me than guitar class, or psychology class, or even English class. As such, I decide to stay home and finish what it is I started while I still have the motivational drive, instead of letting it die-out as I sit restlessly in my desk for an hour or two.

Some people, most prominently my parents, yet occasionally my teachers, tell me that my "blatant disregard for school," as well as my "chronic skipping," will "never be tolerated in the job world." I'd have to say I agree, but that doesn't stop me from laughing abit as I quickly remind them that, although I see the benefits of education, those benefits are mine for the taking. I don't get paid to sit in class all day, despite the fact that it may be a privilege.
When it comes to a job, I probably would force my hand away from any creative pursuit I've really gotten in to, simply due to the fact that I am going to a place where they reward me for my work with a currency I can use to feed my creative pursuit even further, if I so wish.
All school does, in the long run, is open you up to more possibilities of being schooled. And to earn that future privilege, I must sit in a class room for 6 hours and 15 minutes a day, 5 days a week, 10 months a year, for 12 years (even if I am on the 12th and final year).

I hated schedules enough as it was; imagine how much I hate one that dictates a large portion of my actions for 12 whole years.

Another thing I dislike, is when a teacher asks for a note saying why you were absent.
It's not that I disagree with her asking, but when you admit that you have no excuse, she really shouldn't pursue it. All she should be doing is suggesting that you show her a note, so it isn't put down as an unexcused absence on the system. If you don't have a note, then so be it, you've earned another unexcused absence. That should be your problem, and your loss.
But my English teacher, for example, instead demands that you go to the office and get a note from the vice-principal saying that you'll get a note tomorrow. What the hell? If this is some way to inform my parents of my absence, don't you already call my home every time I turn out not being there?
Most of the time, I simply tell her I'm not going to, and keep doing so quite mild-mannerly throughout the entire class, until she simply forgets, and the class simply ends without her asking once again.

Next time she demands a note, I'm going to tell her the obvious truth: I am an independent being of this planet Earth, not a subjugate of this school.

Who, What, When, Where, and Why?

Earlier today, I finished reading the book titled "God's Debris," written by Scott Adams, the creator and illustrator of the famous cartoon character known as Dilbert. It was quite an incredible book, albeit a fiction... it was wrapped in the blankets of philosophy, science, psychology, self-actualization, and, yes, speculation. I can't say, as of yet, if it was a life-changing book like a few I have read, but it's certain to have a lasting impact on me.

Basically, a package courier in New York City is charged with delivering a mysterious package to an equally mysterious old man. When he shows up at the old mans home, he is cryptically told that the package was meant for himself, and thus they start on a book-long debate on absolutely everything regarding life in the universe. One part of the book that really struck me was near the end, when the old man was listing the "5 stages of awareness." Although I admit I haven't quite reached stage 5, I'd like to look back on my past and observe as to whether I have reached the other 4 previous stages, as to me, it feels like I accelerated through many of these stages much earlier in my life than is expected, or normal, for most other people.

"He described what he called the five levels of awareness and said that all humans experience the first level of awareness at birth. That is when you first become aware that you exist."

Even the least intelligent of us have experienced, and may still be experiencing, this level of awareness. In my mind, I was aware of my own existence in some form by the time I was 3. Although that awareness was in no way verbalized within my infant mind, it was there, like a spiritual communion between my mental and physical self, as I began on the life-long journey of inner, as well as outer discovery.

"In the second level of awareness you understand that other people exist. You believe most of what you are told by authority figures. You accept the belief system in which you are raised."

I believe I fully reached this stage by the time I was 4, when a social reality was imposed on me by my preschool year. It was no longer that I was simply aware of the fact that my mother and father, as well as my brother existed... I discovered the reality that there were many more people beyond the frontiers of my immediate family. I developed through this stage in a natural progression, falling into line when I was told, taking everything I was taught by adults at face-value to be truth, and believing, once again, non-verbally, in some sort of 'chain of command,' which played a necessary role in my natural growth. At one point, by the time I was 10, I was attending church with my mother, and I believed strongly in the existence of a God. I prayed whenever I felt it necessary. All of a sudden, much of my past habits and beliefs exploded in my face as soon as I hit 12... but I suppressed such feelings, interpreting them as flawed and wrong, as no one else around me appeared to think in the same way. Therefore, it must have been wrong.

"At the third level of awareness you recognize that humans are often wrong about the things they believe. You feel that you might be wrong about some of your own beliefs but you don’t know which ones. Despite doubts, you still find comfort in your beliefs."

I'd say this stage existed between the time I was 11, and the time I was about 13. I began to realize, yet not entirely acknowledge, the evident flaws in many peoples ways of thinking, as well as there beliefs in certain things which lacked any real evidence. I began down the road to atheism, yet the road was rocky and unstable, and I began rudely contesting the idea of a God or any sort of religious deity, using the comforting, yet sour illusion of mockery to keep the idea away from any benefit of the doubt on my part.

"The fourth level is skepticism. You believe the scientific method is the best measure of what is true and you believe you have a good grasp of truth, thanks to science, your logic, and your senses. You are arrogant when it comes to dealing with people in levels two and three."

When I finally acknowledged the fact that I seemed to be reaching a higher level of consciousness, or awareness, as the book calls it, I did, indeed, become a skeptic. The tail-end of the sour illusion of mockery began to fade away slowly, as I became much more modest and secure in my views. Slowly, but surely, I began to give God the benefit of the doubt; yet this only became possible as I opened my eyes to the legion of other ideas the world had to offer, which humbled my egocentric view of my own 'awareness.' I began to speak down to people with religious beliefs, I found. Not directly, and not intentionally; but the arrogant idea that I may not be entirely right, but I was better-informed and better minded than those who bought in to such beliefs played a subconscious role in my attitude towards them.

"The fifth level of awareness is the Avatar. The Avatar understands that the mind is an illusion generator, not a window to reality. The Avatar recognizes science as a belief system, albeit a useful one. An Avatar is aware of ‘God’s’ power as expressed in probability and the inevitable recombination of ‘God’s’ consciousness."

Now, a big chunk of this last level of 'awareness' is based more around the stories narrative than it is based around reality itself. But, there is alot of truth to it.

I can't say that I am at this level regarding the story itself, but I can say I am either between levels 4 and 5, or I am level 5, yet within the frame of reality, as opposed to the frame of fiction. I do, indeed, believe science is sophisticated and incredible; yet it is not the be-all and end-all. It, too, like the book successfully illustrates, is a series of beliefs which are used to fill in our gaps of understanding. It is, despite its claims to the contrary, humanocentric by nature. It is us, and only us, doing the research, as well as labeling for our own convenience... not for that of nature or the universe. I mean, what is 'Animalia' beyond being our way to place animals on a chart, and label them as such? What is 'gravity?' What is 'hate?' What is 'love?' What is 'psychology?' And for that matter, what is 'God?'

Human consciousness and awareness is purely based on labels; otherwise, there would be no way to identify anything and everything within our minds. I mean, the entire idea of 'Levels of Awareness' is also nothing but a label; a way to classify thoughts, actions, and words based on their perceived significance. Albeit, labeling is quite useful.

It does lead me to one inevitable question, however...

Who is 'Kyran Paterson-King?'

The Angel in the Black Clouds

May you be blessed with,
Much laughter; deep love.

May you bear witness,
To the bright stars above.

May you see brightness,
On the darkest of days.

May you not settle,
For that which just pays.

May you not find,
You're required to fight.

May you allow others,
To carry the light.

May you see what is,

As opposed to what's not.

Feel blessed as you cry,

For you're alive, as you feel your tears drop.

Feel real as you kneel,

In modest respect,

For those who have seen,

Who have sung,

And who find no need to neglect.

Feel the freedom endowed,

Upon your innocent shoulders;

As it will make you guilt-ridden,

Or crush you like a boulder.

Remember to remember,

Forget little, and let

The world play a game of picks, screws, and death.

You are as real to me, as real can get.