Annuity

So this is it. A culmination of a year’s worth of Guise, a kept promise, and a time for new horizons.

This time last year I made a resolution, one which I thought would improve me a little, or failing that would at least prove to myself that I was capable of following through with writing regularly. By the end of it, I’d feel less guilty about calling myself a writer perhaps. That resolution was to write every week, to make a post as Guise without fail, and with today I can thankfully say I made it.

This is an achievement that I’m extremely proud of. It’s the first time I’ve seen a new years resolution through, but it’s also the first time I’ve committed to writing regularly.

I’ve learned a few things during this past year of writing. First of all, it’s really hard to stay fresh if you’re not prepared properly. Letting that deadline creep up each week and not have content ready to go has turned writing into a chore at times, something I’ve never wanted it to be.

The other main lesson I’ve learned is that writing like this isn’t necessarily what I see myself doing for the long term. I’ve loved sharing my thoughts, experiences and poetry with you all, but it’s time to try something new.

Guise will still be here in 2018, but maybe in less regular fashion. I’m hoping to open new creative avenues and exploring how I can next express my creative side.

So to you all, may 2018 guide you to new heights. See you in the new year.

Guise.

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Loud Noises

I’m so sick of being yelled at. The worst part about it is that there’s no respite or relief from it. Advertising is in every single direction we turn our eyes and ears, and it’s only getting louder. With more competition for our increasingly limited attention spans, advertising companies seem to have done away with the clever and would prefer to place themselves in front of us and scream noise at us.

I had a realisation recently about just how much this advertising was affecting my psyche. I had gotten so used to radio and TV ads just being a regular part of life, that I had forgotten they can quite simply be turned off. Turning it off consciously offers an almost immediate cognitive pressure release to our minds. I have physically felt that release from my cranium after deciding that the latest “warehouse closing down sale” was not critical information.

In a world where we rely on advertising revenue to stimulate many parts of our economy (I mean it basically keeps our radio stations in work, and our professional sports accessible to us) we have to remember our sanity. We have to remember that it’s okay to turn off some of these overwhelming senses, and be comfortable with the silence again.

When the loud noises get too much, take away their power. For you own sake.

Guise.

Writing Our Own Paragraphs

Since the earliest of ages I’ve called myself a name. Something unique, and akin to a dying art in this modern Artificially Intelligent world. I’ve brandished myself with this word to separate from the crowd, to feel unique, to feel talented and to surprise others. That word is writer.

It’s a strange sort of behaviour. As writers, we self-indulgently talk about ourselves as if we are some special breed that experience life differently and more vividly and more intensely than anyone else, but the reality is that we are just another product of existence. We have been given words which allow us to speak these experiences, in the same way a musician or an artist has been bestowed in their own medium.

Looking at it through a wider scope, I guess this isn’t a trait of creative-types only. In all walks of life, people are writing their own paragraphs, in their words and actions, as to how they fit in this existence.

In a world where purpose and longevity are two innately difficult concepts to keep aligned, each day we change, or are perceived to change, in minuscule or major manners. But what we often forget to appreciate, is the bearing that we ourselves can have on the experience.

Guise.

Weather Rail

Look upon the power,
Steams ahead,
Seemingly rushed.
Feel the motion,
Captured by the emotion.
The picturesque sky,
Shades of grey, dominate.
No opportunity to grow,
For the specks of blue.
Next stop.
Peer out upon the vista,
Of disinterested lights.
Reach out,
For a change,
In scenery.
It might just respond.

Guise.

The Journey.

This involuntary timeline, filled with answers to questions we did not ask. A path which we may only view in hindsight, despite our attempts to illuminate the road ahead.

The journey is a long one, a trek we are not ready for. Nonetheless, we move. Step by step we propel forward, briefly glancing sideways as others pass us in all directions.

To proceed along this road, is to experience opportunity. To bask in the light of the stars and to feast upon the nourishment of our ancestors achievements, for to know this life, is to know the lives of those you’ve come before us. It coarses through our veins, and drives our inherent instincts.

Along this journey, we continue this process, writing history and learning lessons for the generations to come. Responsibility too great for our modern minds to fully appreciate. A responsibility, and a process, made all the more fulfilling to experience with another. Those we spend our days with, and those we spend our nights. Those around the corner, and those across the seas. That journey all the greater, when lived alongside others.

Soliloquy in Thought No. 1

A word of empassioned influence, the crowd in the palm of the hand, of the speaker and his confidence, a great more great with falling sand.

A lesson amongst the madness, the co tent vast and growing, of better lives and greater minds, a time of knowledge flowing.

A discussion with the people, the matter to be addressed, of changing what one knows, a life that has been blessed.

A challenge to authority, the power undermined, of information scrutinised, a difficult endeavour.

A mention in praise of effort, the journey nears an end, of undetermined learnings, a process ought to mend.

Passion

Misplaced by many;
Each nature not private,
On sleeves and in hearts.
One searches,
One finds,
One is empowered.
Embodied in the disheartened thrills,
Each must empathise.
For what meaning does passion unite?
May it be accepted in order to belong;
Socially acceptable behaviour.
Not that one must be accepted,
For passion thives greater within,
Lust overpowers the patterns on ones sleeve,
Desire and emotion create meaning for some,
And crush others…
Why?
Simply passion drives.
We must yet steer,
But accept our own destinations.

Guise.