Speak

Communication is instinct.

Shakespearean sonnets, battle cries, the Presidential address, an Oscar acceptance speech. All words. All language. Language: an intricate creation of mankind to recreate the creations of God. God created emotions, feelings, small instances in our day evoke countless ideas and emotions that are all God's creation. God also created the desire to speak. The desire to communicate. The desire to express the desires He had already instilled in us. God created our voices: our vocal cords, lungs, lips, tongues. God gave us mind. Intellect. With our intellect, with our voices, with our desire to speak, we created Language.
We turned sounds, syllables, shapes of the lip and flicks of the tongue, into separate words. Each word holds a meaning. Different words together hold different meanings. Words are categorized, given roles: nouns, verbs, adjectives, articles. Patterns of words are formed into sentences with structural laws. With these sentences, which are just words, which are just vibrations of the vocal cords and movements of the mouth, we make symbolism, metaphor, poetry, song. We've made meaning within a meaning of something that was only created to represent preexisting meaning. Anything--Everything can be explained, described. Writing: expressing thought with language in a permanent state, that can be preserved forever, known forever. An eternal thought, living beyond its creator. Reading: taking the thought expressed in writing. Feeling something someone else has felt. Understanding. Learning what someone else has discovered.

With all the basic tools God gave us, including the great desire to express, mankind has created--evolved--language. People often ask what is the greatest and most important invention or discovery to mankind. Some say cars, electricity, the printing press, refrigeration, paper. But really, undoubtedly, the most important invention of mankind for mankind, is language. What if all the electricity in the world suddenly disappeared forever? Well, gosh, that would be terribly inconvenient. Surely many would die. People would be angry, lost, terrified. But we've lived without electricity before. Hundreds of years ago.
Now imagine a world without language. No one could speak, read, or write. Natural, instinctive expressions like crying and smiling would remain. People could see basic emotions: anger, sadness, humor. But we can never say, and never know why. Why are you mad? What can I do to help? What do you want? None of that. We could move. Like punching people. But no sign language, no movements that represent words. No counting with fingers. Simple expressions, simple gestures. But no language. That is an unlivable world.

And so, I could drone on and on expressing my fascination with the simple notion of language. But the fingers of my only functional hand cannot keep up with my thoughts. So, the point... Silent treatment. Refusal to speak. Noncommunication. They all throw away the greatest invention, the greatest blessing, the outcome of God's greatest gift. They throw it away. Silence it. God blessed us with the opportunity--the ability--to work out our differences, to connect out thoughts and minds and understand one another. Refusing God's gift is a slap to His face. A refusal to do what He intended you to do. A terrible sin.

Speak! Listen! Not doing so is like living without a part of God.

Fever

Its 4:30. I should be waking up in two hours for a road trip with les amis to Six Flags. But instead, I'm down with a fever. And not the "Feva!" That Michael Buble and Queen B sing of. No. The freaking can't sleep-skin melts rocks to magma-sweating oceans-mouth is Sahara desert kind of fever. I am a generally hot person, with a metabolic rate of 1 million so I'm quite prone to fevers, but they don't usually try to ruin awesome trips!

I have to always be careful to drink enough water or I burn up, I've been hospitalized twice for fevers--one nearly lethal. I was covered in ice and given like eight gallons of cold saline IV. Bad bad day.

This is nothing like the whopping 106 and counting I suffered a few years ago, but its still freaking ANNOYING SINCE I KNOW I DRANK THREE LAKEFULS OF WATER HOW DA HELL A FEVA GONNA KEEP ME UP WHEN I NEED TA SLEEP!
Now I keep sneaking up in the dead of the night to get more water without waking up the house, and I've already consumed my weight in water the past hour, so I have to pee every five minutes. Miserable! My sweat has transformed this couch into a boiling waterbed, and this laptop is about to explode from water damage just from my fingertips.This is superserious.

TV

Whooo okay so I was imprisoned in tha house aaaan ma lil sista gon be trying ta play ma call a booty wiff me and she already has like a 2 inch TV, there cant be no sharing on dis, hell no. So i was like "you know what ima go buy you a new TV." She said "oh heeelll!" But den i thought to muhself and i thunk "whys im gonna buy YOU a new Tv. Why dont I buy ME a new Tv and gib you da old one!" Damn das i good idea i thought! So i's gone to tha intranet lookting for da screens and den I see some good ones dat is 32 inches and im like oh yeah dis good. but den i was like wait...i hab 32 inches now, why dont i get a bigger one, no point in buyin da sam ting i hab. So i was gon get a 36 inches. Den i saidt no bigger!. So i look for 40. den 42. den 46 and 47. den finally i was even tryin fo da 50s. I hadta check myself I was like oh HELL! Im bout ta spend a fousand dollas apfa da shipting and da taxting. Nuh uh sar! So i dropp down back to da 42 inches and was like Ok dis good. Den apfa hours and hours of searchting I foundt a great 42inch TV that is like hab good rating by awl da cussomas and has good vissions and is thin-not one of dem big fatass TVs that gonna take fo people to curry up awl da damn stairs at da ooo-tee dat give me da heart murmurs no sar. I got me a skinny tv. Its Vizio. And I's exciiiitted, its gon be hurr between Monday and friday dis week. Oh yesh I cant wait, ima beast all dees b*&#es at da call a booty.
Whoop whoop!

Hatred (Viewer Discretion Advised)

My original idea in creating a blog was to document the "spiritual journey" I was prepared to undertake. I have made many enemies and lost many friends in my lifetime--never from my own fault, but it still happened--and I wanted to rekindle these lost friendships. "Building Bridges" is what I planned on titling that blog--a fitting name to describe the opposing "burning bridges" I have been doing previously. I would revive slaughtered ties between myself and my enemies. One by one, gradually growing closer to the one I hate. But before I could rebuild a relationship from its ashes, I had to consider the meaning of "hate"--a word often thrown around in these kinds of situations. What is hate? Simply put, the opposite of love. Love is emotional...mental...physical. And I don't mean sexually. Most of you think you know what love is--whether or not you actually do doesn't concern me. But most importantly, after the emotional descriptions of love, its primary characteristic is that it is unconditional. Unconditional love is the only real love.

And so if hate is the opposite of love, then true hate must be emotional, mental, and physical. But most importantly, it must be unconditional. When one truly hates someone, he feels it deeply.

When in the presence of the object of his hatred, he feels angry and irritated. This person could be in a state of pure benevolence, but he still loathes it. The sound of it's voice, the simple sight of it's image, every one of its movement, gestures, expressions, ideas, words everything... everything makes him angry. Everything makes him irritated, makes his blood boil. Everything about this object of his hatred depresses him and makes him wish he could cut it out of his life forever and wish he could never have known it.

He takes joy in its misery. He senses triumph when it cries--when he makes it cry--or even better, when delivers a blow so harsh, it freezes pitifully, pathetic, fighting with all its might to restrain the expression of its internal torture. It looks down. But its not enough. He gets angry that it isn't retorting. Why would it give up that easily? He can't keep fighting if it doesn't fight back. Everything even its submission to his vicious tongue angers him. Nothing it does, nothing it can do can cure his hatred. Ever...
It crossed that line long ago... This hate is unconditional. It is undying. The object could beg...apologize...die. The hatred never leaves. Perhaps after many many years, after the object has been cut out of his life for a very long time, he will grow numb to the hate. Its not gone, just numbed.

This word, "hate" is tossed around too often in our lives. We use it to describe clothes, vegetables, and ex-girlfriends. But very few people have actually experienced the true gravity of hatred.

Hate is much rarer than love. People look for love. No one wants hate.
Whether the the subject or the object of hatred, it is a disease. An unconditional, undying disease that tortures both ends of the relationship. Cursed forever.

Da Blog

Alas. I have a blog. I have enjoyed the writing of many blogs from friends and such, and I decided it was time for me to give it a try. Readers--all four of you--be warned that I am a very inconsistent writer. I may post once a month sometimes and twice a day on other occasions. It all depends on the amount of free time I have and what dramatic events have recently occurred to inspire an outburst of my literary genius. Also the style and content of my writing will be inconsistent--some days I may write like Dante while other days I may sound like Jay-Z. Basically, just know the person ranting about Beyonce in ebonics and the one dishing out literature of Shakespearean talent are the same author: me.
Ultimately, I hope that by keeping up with a blog, I will be writing frequently enough to never again have to endure writer's block when my professors take steroids and make me write novels. I have no intention of ever pursuing a career in journalism; but I am an English major and I am often assigned essays and lab reports each demanding many thousands of words of my golden thoughts. Furthermore, I wish to possibly improve my quality of writing and experiment with different styles of writing and voices of expression--things you shouldn't ever worry about unless you're an English or journalism major.
And as a final note, I thoroughly enjoy criticism! Yes, my comments are hidden until I approve them, but this is mostly a precaution against the crazies. I have witnessed hatred and unnecessary profanity of extreme levels in blog comments, so I am just making sure I can weed those out before bad things happen.
So hate away, as long as you're not too horrible or embarrassing, feel absolutely free to attack my thoughts, ideas, writing quality, grammar--knock yourself out.

Peace.
-nayzarrrrrrrrrrr (roll the rrrrrrrr)