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Mad Scribbling

Philosophical Crap of Envious Bunny
9月25日

La Cosa Nostra

 
  
What is an adult? I have an impression that widely it is understood as a driving license, legal sex, and free will to do everything you please. That’s the impression That my own class population gave me. Maybe it’s wrong to judge all the humanity by behavior of 30 people, but lets. It is indeed strange to see an 18 – 19 year olds acting like when I was 15. So when (if) do we turn adults?
My idea is that some of us never will, some of us won’t grow up into a decent personalities and the there will be the ones to respect as they Will eventually grow up. It leaves only two or three that could be respected now. Adult is not a physical state, it is state of mind. Who form our minds? Tutoring and surroundings, but I dare say, not friends. The real and self conscious personality could not be influenced by another. “Surroundings” – books, philosophy, history and common intelligence – and “tutoring” – value system mostly formed by adults, creates something rare – “orbicular” personality. Adults! What goes wrong if the one to form this precious system is not a full fledged adult? We get the whole family tree of idiots, with very rare exceptions. These exceptions are mostly people that, as I’ve already mentioned, could not be influenced by others, so they can take only theory from “surroundings” and put them in use when it comes to real life. When man, even unconsciously, takes it upon themselves to tutor itself into a solid being, he’s already climbing to the adulthood. Very different situation is when personality is very fragile and could be easily influenced or, when you don’t have a real adult around. It either turns out that value scale is as admirable as the Europe economics scale after WW1 and WW2, or personality is simply two flawed, with too many gaps even in common understanding of itself and “surroundings”. Or both.
Another question – when do people grow up? “To grow up” is a very flawed definition. We do not stop growing up. Just in one case, when we reach The Point, it’s either to continue or degrade. People just turn adults – right personalities - or don’t.
What is funny, if you believe my theory, your fate is decided. You either have a bud of personality or you just don’t. If we believe Camus, we all have the ‘bud’, you might as well one day just snap out of it and understand that you no longer want to be a machine with set mode. I know just one – creative minds have always been known to survive any kind of bad training. And the joke of the day – greenies will always hate adults, as in time we hate which we often fear. Am I an adult? No, but I’m on my way. Do I believe in this Hitler-ish little speech I just gave? Yes, but I’m sure I’ll regret this answer sometime later.
And now thank you for enduring my fits and reading this.
Someday, with any bad luck, yours, but not likely anyway,
A. 

 
8月4日

Suns waggery

 
 
Wind blows and strangles my breath,
I see his reflection in raindrop falling
So kitsch – sickly sweet…
Crawling down my skin.
 
Hysterical sun turned off the mood,
Bit my cheek – left hickey;
So just like him,
So tricky.
 
Light blows my illusions
And I curse sun
For this damned confusion
To love or hate.
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site, **www.speedofart.com

 
6月22日

Adiós para ahora

 

Pointless in every sense, in every glance and every feeling. Pain will do its educating, first lesson – merciless soul beating.
 
How peculiar it is. Every now and then I feel… Adventure, cruel but not evil, haunting me. And then… it is my bliss.
 
Later, like in tale with no good ending, personal monsters appear. So hellish with their cryptic meaning. They are here with their sidekick fear – They’ll make you swallow it and bear.
 
See you can not, and see me not… as I am no longer here. It’s time to leave fear.
 
But she would not leave me.
 
Never expect to find, but look. As a friend in need… And I will need you. Wish me luck. Please, owe me this fee.

I am leaving… A month, two… three. Leave me a word. Calming… to soothe. Maybe it will be all I need. Be well, Friends. And wish me good luck as I am on the dead run. I leave this inscrutable message with promise I be well. Egoistic to think you will care, but I crave for it to be true.
 
My goodbyes with hope of hellos

6月13日

Emotional fever

   
Shadows run across his face
Reflecting on my paling skin,
The moment’s near; to come
Dreadful hour when we’ll have to run.
 
As far and fast as nous can take
To escape this act of tenderness so fake.
 
Never mind the words were said –
Like plastic flowers on forgotten grave;
Sweet courtship ingrained with lie
So white and egoistic, so dry.
 
Clarity sinks in, salt scars the eyes,
Cry… not, cry never,
Dig deep hole in heart and hide
Your feelings. End it all forever.  
 
1988 06 14 is a very meaningful day in my life…. Scratch it! Crap…
What can I say… tomorrow is my bloody good for nothing birthday and I absolutely hate it. I’ll be 18. But that’s not the point. The point is that everything will be as it seems. I’ll look legal, I’ll act legal  and… be legal. When I was… (already a past time? I still have 8 hours.) anyway when I was 17 I couldn’t do lot of thing and I did them anyway. I was almost a walking crime and now… now it is all legal. I hate it. No crime – no adventure.
What am I going to do now? Run away get married, then again run away and be a clone of Julia Roberts? One word – hackneyed. The most horrible thing is that people will be right most of the time. They always think that I’m 20 something. No shocks anymore, no disbelieve and no getting knickers in the bunch. There will be nothing forbidden about me, I’m flat simple 18 years old, dirty blond, versed in arts, just… just another female in the crowd.
Second-rated.
From now on my age is a public secret.  
     
6月3日

~ 365 days

   
            After such a long time I may finally be proud of my “Mad Scribbling”. I introduced my space to the whole wide world in the early June of 2005. First it was unnoticed and quite plane parody of web page, but in time I developed an interest in web design and MSN spaces seemed just the right place to publish my literary experiments and general crap. At the very start Lithuanian was the main langue, but latter, after realizing that the Lithuanians lacked interest in blogging (the ever minding their own business buggers, not all, of course) and therefore my writing, I decided to start writing in English. I have never thought about it before so the thought itself intrigued me immensely. The start was very rigid. My English grammar was, so to say, beyond horrible, and I had problems finding the right topic to write about. So I stopped writing for a month or so.
After a series of unfortunate events in the end of August and hospital-induced boredom that was literally driving me mad I started writing again. It was probably the only thing (except for my parents, friends and letters) that helped me. Exactly then I realized that English isn’t a “dry” language and I’m able to express myself. That’s where the origin of the name “Mad Scribbling” came from – furious scribbling, trash bin full of pages with crossed words and scratches, too many broken pencils and finally the articles and poems in my space. It was a September to remember.
            After some time my blogging rate subsided but I continued anyway, though I could feel that I was loosing interest in it. But it could be said that there’s no such fury or trickiness of hell like fates’ envy. Another unexpected withdrawal and most likely the nearing winter dullness. Not to mention that my space suffered a hacker attack and nasty blackmail, half of my articles gone and MSN space service declined my request to create new MSN space under the same URL address. My space was under construction for about 2 weeks. During this time I piled a nice stack of new articles. It may be called a hinge of fate, but I found my inspiration and that was the start of the Golden era of my space. I blogged almost daily and gained a crowd of friends (luv ‘em all). It sounds unbelievable, how can you find friends via internet, but I have my arguments – some of them came to visit me (and I’m not talking about mental ones).
            Strange as it is, it all began unconsciously and still is. I write only at the times of difficulty, sadness, immense joy or boredom. I don’t think when I write, I simply do. Sometimes I write about my personal life even though I realize the danger. Fortunately I have enough sense to change names, locations and even descriptions of people.
At the moment I fell quite uneasy letting everybody take a glance trough the metaphorical window to my soul, but there’s no evil that can’t go right, right? I’ll just keep telling myself that… Maybe I’ll find more friends or even an alter ego. My series of unfortunate events has to end somewhere and one day I’ll be happy to write an epilogue to my “Mad Scribbling” and maybe, just maybe FIN in big bright red letters.
So happy birthday, my dear “Mad Scribbling” !
 
<a href="http://www.survivor-online.co.uk/flower-pot-surprise.php?id=pots" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.survivor-online.co.uk/images/pots/pot003.gif" border="0" alt="I'm growing! Get your own pot today."></a>
 
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