FROGS AND CRiCKETS

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FROGS AND CRiCKETS
04.25.08 (4:36 am)   [edit]
They've been pretty loud tonight, and I suppose Summer's finally flew in with a couple windy days and thunderstorms. It's amazing how we're all still alive.

Was staying up with the tele tonight, till I decided to stop after a few thoughts about tomorrow's day-sheet. Just a few thoughts I wanted to put down before I go to sleep though. Might not be much, but at least, I think I'm still moving on. Oh, just thought that soccer fans are much like cabbies you know: they've got a whole lot of theories about the game and how clubs should be run, like cab drivers whose ideologies of politics and government policies seem utmost important. Ha.

It's been a few years that I've written any monologues at all since film school. Those were the days I spent thinking about conversations creatively rather than echoing real thoughts in the head. But because of that, it somehow opened doors to the lesser evil, where conversations become more communicated than ex-communicated. Any other way would have been beyond thinking.

I can never truly appreciate human existence and reciprocal feelings of another, which explains why so many thinks that I've done were mostly evaluated and logged. The strategy is to provide a repeated learning from the same incidences that would serve different levels of thinking and expedite the extrication of logical information and solutions across my time. Truth is, it's proving its worth but hardly any less than making me a 'thinker'.

For certain, the label does less to prick my conscience than to betray my worthiness in the deed. The process is painstaking, but nonetheless gargantuan: at the very least, I begin to believe there is a bisection of truth in the rights and wrongs, as well as the cans and cannots.

Whatever it brings, it's made a moto-mouth of me when theoretical identification of subject matters come up - akin to the sea filled with minerals and the mountains with depleting glaciers, the answers lie within the answers, and eventually, sees the question as the answer that leads to the ultimatum of being understood.

And that is it, understood. A matter that is no longer classed a problem or achievement, but an understood fact. Of course, it is easy to mislead the audience with scientific evidence and supernatural explanations and findings, but to completely see through a subject in its purest form has nothing to do with science, religion, supernatural powers, and teachings. In other words, it is understood.

Home, as we know, is understood. It means the place we return to, the country we live in, the room that is our haven, even mother Earth. That, is not science or believe. It is understood.

And I've come to understand many things: hurt, smiles, tension, freedom. The list goes on. But without repeated dissections into the subject, it does not change what is understood, but what is limiting what I can understand. I will eventually transcend into a level of blank, where everything, as we know, is white, just as white is the final spectrum of the universe and its sub-atomic particles.

I believe I've never successfully flown a kite on my own. I might try that this weekend.
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