Good evening,
I can't in good conscious start off my blogging with a normal introduction. My mind this evening swims with thoughts, which cannot be expressed vocally. As many of us seek the absolute refuge of paper and pen (or in many cases, word processor to internet), I feel that I must contribute in kind.
My name is James. Message is a name that I chose to go by when my thoughts are displayed in alternate media. I do not consider myself odd or "different." I am much like you. There are things that I observe about my world that I cannot completely react to by normal means. I know I can't be alone in this regard, but my written voice has always been more potent that my spoken one. (Side note: I really do have to get out of the habit of correcting misspellings on the fly...it kind of ruins the flow for me...although I hate to see those dotted red lines that form under misspelled words...lol)
But anyway, I want to introduce myself. Writing is an important aspect of my life and I need to hone in and be more dedicated, for there are many things that I must share with the world (and yes, subsistence is important; money to sustain one's living is important and I wish to make moeny off of my creative ideas.)
In my youth, I wanted to sing and by the grace of our universal creator (whatever you may call her/him), I was gifted with a singer's voice, no doubtedly passed onto me from my mother. She was a graduate of NYU with a bachelor's in music and she sang opera (very well I might add).
Skipping all of the trivial details, in high school I participated in shows when my shy notions took a break...and I struggled with the temptation to "use my powers for evil" and sing for ladies' hearts (or their underwear). Even back then, the bulk of my happiness was in the music but more importantly, in the context of it.
My mother died just before I went into junior high school. My only outlet at the time was poetry. People, I cannot tell you what made me chose that medium. No one suggested it to me; no after-school special placed that idea into the young meat sponge that sat between my ears. I simply chose to write. And keeping a journal never worked (and still doesn't to this day.)
Describing my feelings exactly as I feel them never seemed to capture how I truly felt. A poem that was introduced to me at a young age intrigued me to the power of word manipulation. "A Dream Differed" by Langston Hughes completely altered my perception of how the world should be described.
From that day long ago, I knew that blandly presenting the information to people doesn't work for everyone. But if I could make them "feel" what I am saying and not just be satisfied with their understanding of my thought, then enjoyment and fulfillment would be mutually attained. (There...I figured out why I chose poetry...lol. Thanks Water Cooler.)
My early poems were littered with sorrow, pain and all of the usual grievance laden prose. But once those feelings were out, I had room to create literal thoughts of love (and lust at that pubescent age), reflections on life and the world and other positive and uplifting topics.
Then high school came around and my singing got noticed by the right people (the females of course.) So I sang more of the music that was popular at the time...my Boyz to Men, my Brian McKnight, my Eric Benet. But their words became insufficient for me. I needed to contribute my thoughts to this new media: song. I wrote many songs. I continue to write songs.
My fiction writing, I must admit, was influenced by one well-known source and one miraculous event. The well-known source was the movie "The Matrix." Our minds are the closest we can get to conceiving the vastness of the universe...think about it. Out of all the fascinating, evasive secrets that the human body tends to hide from us, the human mind is the vastest and seemingly infinite. Can you believe that scientists still haven't found a proper definition for consciousness (and we are conscious for most of our lives people...). For me, "The Matrix" tackled the very essence of the topic. What does it truly mean to be conscious? If what we are living right now is only a dream, does consciousness exist in only a "dream state" or is true consciousness a goal mankind simply has to "wake up to?"
Riveting stuff, I know. But the stronger of the two influences came from a dream that I had, which has (since the age of fourteen) influenced a story; a story, which I covet, as one of the most important tasks in my life. I will post another thread on this story and the multitude of ideas that have spawned from this dream and story in another thread...I know that I have taken up a lot of your time.
If you are reading this, I thank you for that time. This is my first blog post and I am new to this. I must admit that it is liberating to express myself in this manner. I must thank the love of my life (she knows who she is...) for suggesting this outlet to me.
Any feedback that you care to leave, good or bad, critical or not, will be greatly appreciated. I hope to hear from you soon and please leave here knowing...that you will hear more from me soon...
This Message has been brought to you just in time...
Message
I can't in good conscious start off my blogging with a normal introduction. My mind this evening swims with thoughts, which cannot be expressed vocally. As many of us seek the absolute refuge of paper and pen (or in many cases, word processor to internet), I feel that I must contribute in kind.
My name is James. Message is a name that I chose to go by when my thoughts are displayed in alternate media. I do not consider myself odd or "different." I am much like you. There are things that I observe about my world that I cannot completely react to by normal means. I know I can't be alone in this regard, but my written voice has always been more potent that my spoken one. (Side note: I really do have to get out of the habit of correcting misspellings on the fly...it kind of ruins the flow for me...although I hate to see those dotted red lines that form under misspelled words...lol)
But anyway, I want to introduce myself. Writing is an important aspect of my life and I need to hone in and be more dedicated, for there are many things that I must share with the world (and yes, subsistence is important; money to sustain one's living is important and I wish to make moeny off of my creative ideas.)
In my youth, I wanted to sing and by the grace of our universal creator (whatever you may call her/him), I was gifted with a singer's voice, no doubtedly passed onto me from my mother. She was a graduate of NYU with a bachelor's in music and she sang opera (very well I might add).
Skipping all of the trivial details, in high school I participated in shows when my shy notions took a break...and I struggled with the temptation to "use my powers for evil" and sing for ladies' hearts (or their underwear). Even back then, the bulk of my happiness was in the music but more importantly, in the context of it.
My mother died just before I went into junior high school. My only outlet at the time was poetry. People, I cannot tell you what made me chose that medium. No one suggested it to me; no after-school special placed that idea into the young meat sponge that sat between my ears. I simply chose to write. And keeping a journal never worked (and still doesn't to this day.)
Describing my feelings exactly as I feel them never seemed to capture how I truly felt. A poem that was introduced to me at a young age intrigued me to the power of word manipulation. "A Dream Differed" by Langston Hughes completely altered my perception of how the world should be described.
From that day long ago, I knew that blandly presenting the information to people doesn't work for everyone. But if I could make them "feel" what I am saying and not just be satisfied with their understanding of my thought, then enjoyment and fulfillment would be mutually attained. (There...I figured out why I chose poetry...lol. Thanks Water Cooler.)
My early poems were littered with sorrow, pain and all of the usual grievance laden prose. But once those feelings were out, I had room to create literal thoughts of love (and lust at that pubescent age), reflections on life and the world and other positive and uplifting topics.
Then high school came around and my singing got noticed by the right people (the females of course.) So I sang more of the music that was popular at the time...my Boyz to Men, my Brian McKnight, my Eric Benet. But their words became insufficient for me. I needed to contribute my thoughts to this new media: song. I wrote many songs. I continue to write songs.
My fiction writing, I must admit, was influenced by one well-known source and one miraculous event. The well-known source was the movie "The Matrix." Our minds are the closest we can get to conceiving the vastness of the universe...think about it. Out of all the fascinating, evasive secrets that the human body tends to hide from us, the human mind is the vastest and seemingly infinite. Can you believe that scientists still haven't found a proper definition for consciousness (and we are conscious for most of our lives people...). For me, "The Matrix" tackled the very essence of the topic. What does it truly mean to be conscious? If what we are living right now is only a dream, does consciousness exist in only a "dream state" or is true consciousness a goal mankind simply has to "wake up to?"
Riveting stuff, I know. But the stronger of the two influences came from a dream that I had, which has (since the age of fourteen) influenced a story; a story, which I covet, as one of the most important tasks in my life. I will post another thread on this story and the multitude of ideas that have spawned from this dream and story in another thread...I know that I have taken up a lot of your time.
If you are reading this, I thank you for that time. This is my first blog post and I am new to this. I must admit that it is liberating to express myself in this manner. I must thank the love of my life (she knows who she is...) for suggesting this outlet to me.
Any feedback that you care to leave, good or bad, critical or not, will be greatly appreciated. I hope to hear from you soon and please leave here knowing...that you will hear more from me soon...
This Message has been brought to you just in time...
Message
