New World: Order - Mayday

It's all caught up to me and so it needs to come out. The words must be put down, for their own good.

I was a broken thing. A mangle of cowardly comedic sidekick and lone wolf cursed rogue. Always a gentleman, forever a boy. Young in my age, a sense of wonder never fully extinguished, a passion for adventure never quenched, always stifled by fear and anxiety, no matter how hard we try.

Lately, the methods I used to heal myself have considerably paid off, as if it only took a decade to decide to be happy, just most of my adult life for a wish to come true. It's beautiful and ensnaring, yet intentionally, eternally, elusive. The limits of mankind are not dead ends, but rather a self-imposed power dampener.

Perhaps it is the faithful, the shamanistic, the healers, gypsys, and psychics that are erupting forth but there are Jedi littering the populace. We collectively have a sense of God, and we also are now accessing those feelings in all manner of pop culture godhead manifestations littering mass media.

Don't you feel the shift? Change is more alive than we can imagine, though that may also show my age. The 90's were the skull and fresh earth of gritty dead reality and the pieces of what remained were fertile ground for the birth of the True Spectacle (as if it could ever be false) of the 21st Century.

Ten years in and we're there, the future is now, and for the most part major bugs are kinked out, we can communicate and create without boundaries, we have a digital mass dump of the human psyche we call the Internet.

From the soil of cat pictures (a nod to Egyptian gods), porn (Venus?), and scams & spam (Hail Discordia) we will grow an intelligence that will so utterly and accurately reflect us that our gut instinct as a species will be revolting disgust, manic anger, and soul-crushing enlightenment.

That is the final lesson we can teach any being, especially one of our own creation, they are a reminder, a symbol of all that we aren't and yet a reality check that dawns far too late. We are flawed but blessed with all we need to overcome and awaken something brilliant, virtuous, infectiously harmonious.

But there is wreckage, a shell cast off, memory vapors that trail from us like stink, raincloud doldrums strapped to our heads, and the fight to escape the confines of a previous experience is so bittersweet that we've developed a taste for the bitter, gluttoning ourselves on sweets. Purging takes a strength of character that is a rarity.

I'm on the verge of something great, and so feel a serenity in that I've always been on that same edge of getting exactly what I want my whole life. I just need a stronger fortitude, and to give myself a break and rest my mind occasionally. I need to live life in order to write about it, but more than ever I want to live my life.