life in a factory

Once I begin the march, there is nothing to do but finish it, lest some unbalanced force push me off. 

I put one foot in front of the other, propelled forward only inertia. Once set in motion, there is naught to do but stay in motion, waiting for some unbalanced force to make me veer off course. (The force within died long ago.) The inertia began with the first day of school— no, before that. It began with the force that set me on my course as a student, whenever that was. After stepping on the carousel, I’ve entertained no serious thought of disembarking, though I’ve been feeling dizzy for a while now.  The dizziness is confusion, is pain, is the muffling of the world around me. I’m a puppet strewn about by the strings of routine, jerking my body about its daily motions; I’m one in a million marching along a path seemingly set in stone. Once I begin the march, there is nothing to do but finish it, lest some unbalanced force push me off. 

Did I choose this?

What lies at the end of the path?

What will I do without a path to follow?

I’m speeding over a wide, paved highway, on my way to higher education, higher paying jobs. A higher life. I’m one in a million on a conveyor belt of identical twins, not one of a kind. You see, the problem with mass production is that all the products were made to be the same. There is naught to do but to stay in motion, and cross these bridges when I come to them.

abstracts, pt III

I strongly encourage you to check out pt doux and the original as well!

click here for part II and part I !

Dull. Superfluous. Amorphous. I flow into a mold and set, emerging stiff misshapen, a new person but still the old one remains.

Higher and higher they rose, above the planes of existence and into the realm of dreams

I careened through the air, reaching for the curling tendrils of vapor that flew past my eyes

He wrapped himself up, tighter and tighter, until he could no longer feel his toes, no longer feel the outside world, could no longer feel

Phantoms accompanied my fears in a lullaby of insanity

A new word. An old one. A plain one, a fancy one.

Was there ever a place where you could just let go of everything but still keep control?

Hard silence melted by a warm smile

Look down, and see the world at your feet

A fly’s life is still a life

I dove off the board, plummeted, and never hit the water

Fast-fast-faster- but it was all over too quickly

The sunflower is the ultimate worshipper.

Ursa Major bounds toward me, Orion close behind

And when there are no roads, you are free

Ocean’s so big it nearly drowns out everything else

golden sunlight spills past the trees, streaking over a cold canvas of snow

The sunset is like fire, searing holes into the dark silhouettes of the trees.

Light pours over the rim of the pitcher


you will be surprised.

I’m quite aware that these have little to no meaning, but some actually work like word candy. 

The bird flew back in time and became a dinosaur

The snow fell quietly and I wondered why the wind whispers to nobody in particular

Trees danced to the whispers of the wind

I fell asleep in a bed of flowers and woke up a butterfly

Why couldn’t I hear what the little bird was telling me?

I reached out to the sun and touched it and I burned

The pencil bled not like a pen but like a person

The rain dripped into a pool of rainbows

The snowflake landed on the tip of my finger and I was still, watching it melt and disappear, and I didn’t feel a thing

Curled my toes in the warm spring air

When my bow touched the strings the sky fell down

Words poured out and the paper soaked it up like a sponge

And when night came they danced to the music of the spheres under twinkling lights and a sliver of the moon

treading water

Math can smell fear.

Math can smell fear. If you start a problem with trepidation, it almost always will not end well, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing. Although it may feel like a waste, trying out any idea (no matter how futile it seems) is better and more helpful than sitting there, generating more ideas, or worse, coming up with none. The more you fear the problem, the more the jumble of symbols and words mess with your brain, the harder it is to stumble upon the solution.

I spend two hours of every Sunday adrift in a churning sea of numbers and equations and patterns and variables, barely holding onto the edge of the lifeboat of knowledge and understanding. Perhaps this class is too advanced for me, but I like it. I get such a feeling of euphoria when I finally touch the lifeboat, and I can only imagine what it will be like to control the boat and find an island, where I can thrive.