An emotional reaction can form faster than one is capable of thinking it through. It is safe then to assume that emotions develop without conscience thought. In an insane world where reason is hard to find, it would safest for one's sanity to discard logic. That is why the heart has power over the mind and not the other way around. And so I must think about the supposed power of love.
If love really is what one can call an emotion, then it can be born without conscience awareness. Since it exists outside of most intelligent thought, people can not help who they fall in love with or how they end up loving that person. Since everyone is unique, there are as many forms of "love" as there are people. Mutual love is a luxury because the nature and intensity of two people's loves are inevitably different, leading to imbalance. There is the feral love of a parent for its child, the corrosive love of infatuation, the passionate love between young devotees, and the unhealthy, obsessive, love towards an object or concept. The very reason some still draw breath is that they love life too much to give up on it.
As a person who never felt passion towards anyone else, I must use my own love of books to justify my statements. I am quite aware that it is unhealthy to interact solely within the world between the pages but I continue to do so against my own best interest simply because I love books. There is no logical explanation for my obsession because what pleasure I receive from reading could be acquired in the outside world without the self-inflicted injury of me burning myself out on simple series.
I am better suited to be talking about hate than love. I actually do know how it feels to hate something for no reason at all. I am often reminded that love and hate are two sides of the same coin so I imagine the experience is the same.
I remember hating something so bad that the back of my eyes started to hurt and my head got so warm that I wanted to headbutt a wall to get rid of the pain and to clear my thoughts of the subject of my ire.
I would imagine love feels similar only the subject of one thoughts is desire. It could be possible to mistake the two. Either way, it is unhealthy to hold onto a grudge forever and I really don't want to end up like a certain unlucky couple brought together by Shakespeare. In the end, if I go with the theory of the two being exact opposites, I will have to say that hate is the desire to do anything to make someone miserable, then love is the desire to do anything to make someone happy. That would explain how voodoo dolls and love charms coincide with each other... Would that be just about right?
If you do not mind I will try to describe the dream I had last night as best I can. It is a little fuzzy and sounds like a scify plot. Please tell me if there is a movie like this because I honestly have no idea where it came from. Honestly every last detail of this came from one dream and I have added nothing but I am not saying it is originial as I could be somehow reliving a movie.
I was older and I have become a biologist. I was doing research on marine life with a coworker. We were trying to create a formula that allowed creatures such as fish to exist in regardless of temperature.
All our experiments failed and the subjects died and shriveled up. Until one experiment where we were examining stingray eggs and one had died in the egg. Suddenly the egg hatched and the sting ray's shriveled body began to regenerate.
We had inadvertantly created a formula that relived dead tissue. Fearing the consequences of what could happen if such a thing became public knowledge my coworker imediately went mad and locked away the remaining canisters and erased the data so that only he and I knew how it was made.
I do not know how it happened but the government found out about the formula and came after us. I was complient and allowed them in. They walked in right when my partner was experimenting on a dead tree sapling and it was growing at an unbelievable rate and was developing strange mutations.
He saw them and they had some argument that ended in them gunning him down. They turned toward me and I ran away in fear. They shot me multiple times and left me for dead as they walked away with the canisters. My partner set the canister to explode so as they walked away the case exploded vaporizing them instantly.
I survived the explosion and found myself with superhuman abilitys like every other superhero movie. The army had me surround and I fled into what I think was Canada where I was pursued.
I hid in some woods for I do not know how long. While I was gone the government was overun by what resembled the Communist party. I eventually ran into a lost family and helped them out.
The moment we were out of the wood I came upon tow muscular men. It was a trap and I punched one of them. It barely did anything as his skin was like stone.
I ran away again but they were just as fast as I was. I ran over a hill and hid under a bridge in hope they would not find me. There was now somehow three of them now and they stopped right by the bridge.
One of them stopped to drink some water. He looked right at me and I pulled him into the water while his friends were not looking. I shielded his mouth and demanded that he be quiet. He refused and was about yell so I did what I had to to keep him quiet.
Now driven by desperation I got out of the water and lunged at the remaining two. Then I woke up. Now that is what I call a freaky dream.
I am to write two pages of whatever comes to my head five days a week. I was okay with that because that is what I would normally do but now after only a week or two I feel drained. I hate forcing the ideas out. If I do that I find that I am unknowingly quoting a song or something like that because they have become burnt into my brain.
A few nights ago I worked on a short story titled The Last Night. I listened to Skillet the next day and found a song with the exact same name and at several points I can honestly say I got really close to quoting them.
Okay, as for ideas I can not get angels out of my head. I made one of my character's best friends become possessed by an anceint force that manifests itself as an angel and it is the same way for another villain. The character then gets beaten half to death by his best friend and has developed a fear of angels and freaks out when he wakes up in a grave yard surrounded by statues of the Angel of Grief.
Its too bad that my family still want me to make a "family friendly" book. I wanted to make one of my heroes the host of death as death is a neutral enity. I also planned on making my "heroic" figures not so heroic. I planned on them getting drunk and waking up with black eyes and it was supposed to be the hero that becomes the Angel of Wrath not his best friend but my aunt tells me that it would scare kids.
I do not mind if they restrict me some and if they force me to write against my own will but if they do both then I get ticked. What I am typing up now does not even count so I better go. Type to you later.
I have been over visiting with my grandparents this weekend. It was both of their birthdays and their aniversery. It was better than ussual. It is strange that it is their birthday but I am the one showered with gifts. I left there with an umbrella, ten bucks for doing good in school, and a balalakia.
The balalakia was bought as a gift by my grandmother for my grandfather but he did not want it so he gave it to me because I have no musical experience that I or he can recall so I got the instrument to learn how to appreciate music. I am really greatful for that but there are a few facts I wish to point out. First of all I appreciate music but I do not wish to be the one making it. Second it is heard to even pronouce balalakia and I bet it will be even harder to find a book on them.
If you are wondering what a balalakia is imagine this. Imagine a lute with a triangular base with three strings. If you do not know what a lute is it is like a medival guitar only cooler.
The drive was horrible though. I left my ipod on the stereo so I played Final Fantasy II for over twelve hours altogether. Final Fantasy is awesome but too much is too much. By the way a friend of mine introduced me to Final Fantasy a few weeks ago because he pointed out one of the characters I was working looked a lot like Sephiroth. I looked up Sephiroth and I was surprised to see the simularities. Sephiroth is like the perfect villian and I guess I somehow got the image of Safer Sephiroth burned into my head when I was a kid because I always think of angels having six wings. My eyes literally hurt from all the gameplay and typing this up is not helping and I forgot to do my English Project but oh bloody well.
I wish everyone an awesome weekend!
Speaking of awesome check out FFVII Advent Children. It rocks!