HEREIN LIES MY MUSE

Discipline allows magic. To be a writer is to be the very best of assassins. You do not sit down and write every day to force the Muse to show up. You get into the habit of writing every day so that when she shows up, you have the maximum chance of catching her, bashing her on the head, and squeezing every last drop out of that bitch.
-Lili St. Crow

I've been suffering a mild case of the writer's block. It was a bit strange that someone of my age would suffer terribly from such a crippling condition. What causes this condition? I don't know and as far as this moment is concerned I don't give a fuck.
Why is that so? The answer lies in the text that follows.
Recently, I have been reading the Zahir by Paulo Coelho and the narrator of the story is a writer who describes to us what gives him the power ti write. He speaks of a boat called the word that takes him to an island where his thoughts are nothing more than what his soul needs to drop down on paper. Every time he tries to write he experiences the same thing. It starts with a will to write, the inability to write, and eventually the journey on the "word".
It had always been the same for me. I need a wind strong enough to push my sails to the island. Ever since I took heed to my calling I was sure that the wind was rage, pain, and disdain. Writing under such atmospheric pressure bears down on the mind. Only so much anger can be expressed on paper but this week I discovered another wind that is blowing even stronger. I call this wind joy.
As of Monday I have been encompassed by this immense feeling of joy. It may have been because I experienced something utterly overwhelming on that day but nonetheless, my writing has been fluid. No longer do I have to think so much about what I am writing but it just flows out of me like a seasonal river during autumn.
It was two weeks ago and I was trying to blog. This was a bad experience because writing while suffering from writer's block is like having to have sex immediately after jerking off- not fun. So, there I was trying to force witty phrases and deep commentary when I realized that I was wasting my time. In my head the question kept rolling, "when will this end?". It's never fun to pride yourself on an art that you struggle to express. So, there I was in front of a computer keying in paragraphs of  things that made no sense to me. Agonizing was the name. Every word was heavy and paralyzing. If stress could kill people the certainly my words could do and at that moment they took the life out of me. When I completed writing the post I felt relieved. Oh joy! Maybe that's when the joy started. The end of that post was the beginning of my high moments. The lack of marijuana in my bloodstream was made up for the seizing of a post. Yes, every high moment is a high moment.
But after Monday all that has changed. Right now I'm here keying down these words about the end of my condition and what does it feel like? It's like someone is standing besides me and doing all the writing. All this is nothing but an illusion. I'm not the writer. Yes, that's it. As long as I write there is another entity responsible for the magic that unfolds before me.
With that I bid thee farewell but before that.....
Writer's block is not a debilitating condition, it's a failure to acknowledge the presence of that divine being encompassing the essence of your inner artist.

BECAUSE THE TIME WAS RIGHT FOR ONLY A HALF OF THE COUPLE

 I want to top expectations. I want to blow you away.

 -Quentin Tarantino

It's a bit difficult to live up to one's expectation. Be it our parent's, girlfriend's/boyfriend's, spouse's, or even society. We fear the idea of being ostracized because we want to fit into a particular accolade. If someone wants us to be something it's either we try to achieve that or surpass that. Failure to attain the required level gives us a feeling of self-resentment.
Now, I compare this to myself.
Yesterday, I put myself into a situation that made me feel like quite the arsenine man. The experience that was before me was generally one that would put anyone of my gender the desire to act up on it. Did I act up on it? Definitely. Failure to act up on it would have been a complete disaster but I endured a strange dilemma afterwards.
Before the act I was certain that the experience would be something that I would define the week by. A great or rather occasional event that would be cataclysmic enough for me to a kin it to a smile from the universe. During the act I was in nirvana. What can I say? The secondary head decided to take full control. Yes, whatever you're guessing is probably on point.
After the act I was flying between two trapeze. That moment when you don't know whether you're going to fall or to swing to safety. Well, I was confused about what had just happened.
It bothered me greatly because as much as the act was vital in developing me as a man it failed to give me the spiritual satisfaction that I needed. But why did it bother me so? That's because I wanted to wait until I was psychologically prepared for the act. But I did it anyway because the person that the act involved felt that they were ready and I was even less ready to disappoint.
Now, here I am. Griping to strangers on a virtual world. Why is that so? I'm I too much of a coward to have said no? No. I'm too much of a man to have said no.

MY PHILOSOPHY

One's philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes... and the choices we make are ultimately our responsibility.

-Eleanor Roosevelt

I've just stepped out of my philosophy class where an assignment was handed back to us. When I handed in this assignment I did not care much as to what the results would be because I made the choice to believe I am the best and the outcome would always be in my favour. Working for my success seemed futile for most of it seemed serendipitous. 

So the lecturer starts handing out the assignment and the first name he called out was not mine. Hmmm! Maybe he doesn't call in order of performance. That was an assumption until he followed it up with heavy praises and appreciation of the effort taken to create the "art form" that was that paper. I did not mind it until he started calling out the other names with a hint of boredom and lack of interest in the rest. Then he called my name. Ah, the moment of truth was before me. My chest heaved and hoed while I was trying to contain the excitement of him possibly drowning me in praise. But then nothing happened. He was right there before me and he just handed me the paper, no regard whatsoever for my plausibly crashed ego.

Now, the paper was out of 15 and out of this possible 15 I had managed to score a measly 13. What?! This, as basic mathematics would claim, is an 87% and I had decided at one point that less than exemplary is less than ordinary. That would not be accepted.

Why would he give me such a score? Is it because my powerful argument was too overwhelming for his feeble mind? Maybe but then again what led to me getting that score?

Back tracking to the week that the assignment was due I realized that I started the assignment a couple of minutes before the due date (or in this case time). The assignment was handed to us three weeks prior to the due date but I opted to do it a couple of minutes before the class. Yet here I am complaining over my poor aim.

I spent the duration of that class pondering "why?". In every class I was accustomed to being at the top of the world but I forgot that the world rotates every twenty-four hours. 

Now, what would keep me at the top despite rotation? I need to understand that I need something to live by that would give me an edge. Something to remind me that there is not room for improvement but without improvement I am standing in the nude. Basically, I need a philosophy to live by.

改善-KAIZEN
The logic behind this is simplistic and to the point. Continuous improvement that aims to eliminate waste (this is my life and not just business). What is this waste in my life? Presumption, procrastination, pomposity, and everything in between. In order for me to become this entity that has the nerve to aim beyond the sky and the ability to make it a possibility then I should take it upon myself to strive for whatever I desire and never have to worry about such instances again. 
Manhood is beckoning and I need to act as my role requires. Growth and improvement.

TO QUESTION-TO BLASPHEME OR TO APPRECIATE

The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.
-Albert Einstein

Something amazing happened today. My logic was questioned. Why is that amazing? Answer; when one's logic is questioned they tend to go beyond themselves in order to prove that their reasoning is up to par, which I did.
This being a typical Tuesday filled with a long break between my first and second classes of the day I tend to roam around campus a lot. The logic to this-simple yet overt discoveries came to light during one's least attentive moment. 
Anyway, my girlfriend had just left. While loitering through campus I came across a friend from two of my classes in my first two semesters. Now, she always the smartest girl in the class. Well, the course was Japanese and she may have not been the leading student in the class (that's because I was) but she definitely possessed an innate ability to apply logic to whatever lay before her. 
So today while I was roaming I bumped into her and believe it or not she was reading a Nora Roberts book out loud. Her reason-most of the people on campus were having a class and she had the freedom to express her inner freak.  We just strolled around together until she decided to go all Socrates on me and asked me a simple question; do you believe in evolution? Oh, little did I know that this would lead to an intense argument that would span close to an hour. When I say argument I mean a clear and concise expression of our opinions without having to impose it onto the other.
Now, back to the question. 
She: Do you believe in evolution?
Me: Yes.
She: Why?
Me: Because I don't believe in god and I have to accept that we came from somewhere.
She: Why don't you believe?
Me: Because I believe that needing the fear of god in order for us to be good people means there is something wrong with us as humans.

You can see where this is headed. No, you don't see where this is headed because in most cases it would lead onto a heated debate but this led onto a discussion where she tried to explain to me why she believes.
 Her reasoning was clear. She believes in the existence of a higher being because god to her is the link between the present and the future. That entity that gives us the hope for a future is god. She went on to add that we need fear in order to live a balanced life. An idea of perfection is only possible because we know of imperfection (that's not exactly how she put it, just how I chose to understand it) and we fear because an ounce of fear is what will let us know joy. We also need to believe in a higher being because knowing that life ends in death and nothing more then makes life uneventful. A belief in a being that is better than us drives us to be a lot better than we currently are. Does it make sense? It's logical. That was her argument.
Mine was a bit simplistic. Is god's job then nothing more than just to act as an entity that provides hope? If the big bang is questionable because of an apparent lack of knowledge of what came right before the big bang then where did god come from? Did he just pop up or was he just there? Why are we told not to question?
However, while I was dotting down those questions in my mind I came upon a shocking realization. You cannot question what came before the big bang because before the big bang time was non-existent. What does this mean? It means that the big bang was the beginning of time and there is nothing North of the North Pole..... Clear, isn't it?
Well, the choice is yours.
As time progressed I explained that if there is really a god then shouldn't this being then appreciate the fact that we question his existence because it is from questioning that we come to understand. Her statement against this was that sometimes we need to accept that having faith does not mean that we do not question but rather that we don't need to. Faith is belief with a hint of ignorance. Possessing knowledge is never the most ideal thing because maybe what we might discover at the end of all the research would be akin to coming to the end of a sad story. How would that affect our lives as human beings? 
At the end of it all I came to my all conclusion. The belief in a god is an endless quest for knowledge and understanding that is barricaded with religion and the homo ignoramus that claim to question is to blaspheme. 
Do I believe? I believe that my life is diverse, expansive, and beauty and the reality of a death should be an indicator to lead a more fruitful life. 
Do I believe in a higher being that created us at a whim? No. Simple concise and to the point......

SAYING YES WHEN IT SHOULD BE NO

Sudden resolutions, like the sudden rise of mercury in a barometer, indicate little else than the variability of the weather.
-David Hare

Some situations arise at times of least expectation. A sunny day suddenly becoming rainy, an easy test with that one impossible question, and even that amazing phone that decides to go on the fritz. This is part of life and acting surprised by this means only one thing, you are part homo ignoramus. No shame in having ancestral ties to the leading cause of the near extinction of the human race.....
Now, I value my intelligence, I revel in it but then every now and again I become an involuntary volunteer to these events where my wits are tested.
Yesterday was one of those events. My girlfriend (I feel like she's been the topic of concern for most of my posts for the past week but just having the audacity to write "my girlfriend" feels so magnificent) came to school and she seemed rather upset. Being the concerned guy that I am I asked her what the problem was but she was a bit resilient on spilling the cup of hot coffee (well, at the time I had no idea it was hot coffee). I plagued her constantly with my monologue on how a good relationship is founded on communication, which I did ever so subtly, and she gave in.
What came from her were words that I would never forget. Little words but they carried a great impact, "I missed my periods." Yikes!!!
And then it smacked me like a bitch. All my teenage life I had been dreading the thought of such news. How would I handle such a situation? What would our lives amount to if I/she/we were expecting at this point of our lives?
But that was just the thing. These questions didn't race through my mind. Only one thought circumnavigated the diameter of my brain-what will he/she look like?
What the fuck?!! I know, right. Twisted.......
Anyway, is something wrong with me. How would someone in that position ever react like that? I'm barely an adult and the prospects of a child seem enticing.
It was a rather selfish thought because I needed to have been concerned for her sake. She was the one who experienced the fear at a physical level. All the hormones that might have been raging through her at that moment and I was simply exploring the physical traits of a hypothetical child.
But like she said, it was just a missed period which,  according to her is common, so we might have nothing to worry about.
I decided to be excited about this occurrence before my time had arrived and now I have to find a way to get my psychology in check before I ruin our lives. But how bad would it be to have a child with the woman I love? At the moment, it's probably the worst thing that could happen but I do look forward to a time when it would be expected of us........

TO WRITE IS TO CALIFORNICATE...

Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.
-Khalil Gibran 

So, I'm a great fun of Californication and the antiques of David Duchovny. Why is that so? Simple questions deserve simple answers; I'm a writer and Duchovny makes magic and miracles out of this beautiful gift. But one problem arises. David and I have nothing in common. Yes, if I were to use him as a yardstick to define what an author should be then I would just not make the cut.
As a character, David Duchovny is everything that I am not. I may not want to elaborate on this because then it makes me seem like vegetable.
However, being the introvert that I am thinking is my forte. Hence I came to this assumption. David Duchovny, well his character, is nothing more than just that; just a character. Someone locked themselves up and thought up the perfect character for a deteriorating and insanely creative writer and shock unto us....... he was born. Ah, yes, his name was/is Hank Moody.
His struggle with personal demons quails my mind and his determination to be a better man but constantly fails adds an amazing twist to life that cannot be found in our everyday scenarios. Why is my life so different to that? That's because I am not a character thought up in the confines of ones basement. Well, as far as I know.
All this in the name of questioning what it means to be a writer..... I write, hence I am.

MATURITY

Gold medals aren't really made of gold. They're made of sweat, determination, and a hard-to-find alloy called guts.
-Dan Gable

Every once in a while we're hit with this sudden realisation that we are only as good as our last attempts. It hurts to have to comprehend the fact that no current yardstick can be used to measure your accomplishments hence you revert back to using that which you have recycled for years and years. Am I any better? No.
Over the last couple of years i have made it my mission to let the world hold dear the fact that I'm a writer. There is no problem with that rather than the fact that my last serious stint as a writer was at the age of 12. Currently, my achievements as a writer boil down to that one book. I am not thrilled to say that no other works can help one decide whether I am  a writer or not. Yes, I have the power to decide whether or not I am but the world needs to see and take in the fact that I am an artist and here <insert book title> is my art but alas, that could have only happened five years ago.
The man within me has decided that the time has come for me to let go of events and achievements made possible by the juvenile and start making his own success. How do I do that? That's a smart question and the answer is just as smart........... Aspirations plus inspiration plus perspiration will get me success. Motivation may stroll outside the lawn but when it decides to knock it has to find you working or it moves on. That's what the juvenile knew and that's what I forgot.
It took the twelve year old Oscar an entire night and flask of coffee to finish his book and the eighteen year old Oscar needs to understand that only with such determination will he be able to smile at his successes.
Coffee and sleepless nights will be the routine until Oscar, the man, finds his way to success.