Just Find Something To Do And Then Do It

The year is almost over, the calendar year swept away with the dropping of lights and the illumination of the coming sun. Though arbitrary there is solace in knowing that there will be an end to the previous and a new beginning. To set new sights and new goals and shed off the past strife and leave failures where they lay.

2017 was a landmark year for me. It made me grow in many ways and become closer to the ideal version of myself I want to be. Someone who is motivated, someone who is driven, someone who is informed and willing to share ideas. Attempting to stay young at heart, like I've always been, and brush off the failures.

I started this year off at a bar with only a few people I knew, and ended up sleeping on their pull out couch. I was unemployed and would eventually have to give up my car and my phone and start back at square one.

For the first few months I felt like I was 16. I moved in with my friend and slept on his floor. I walked to work in the cold and had a lot of time for introspection. Mulling over the previous years mistakes and how I didn't want to end up like that again.

I worked hard and bought a car and moved. Things started falling into place for me. I was preparing for the summer when I'd be going back to TLC for a second year. I had some well laid plans but they fell apart when my car broke down. All my progress started to wither away and I receded into an isolated depression.

Thankfully camp quickly took my mind off those things and I felt back at home. Spending two months with friends and people I call family now. Teaching the children and feeling myself feel more and more grown up myself. Taking responsibility, being someone the kids and others could call on.

The summer came and went and I had some more well laid plans. I said goodbye to camp stating it was my last summer there, that I had to take what I had learned back "home" and start living like an adult there. But I returned home and again, like the year before, it was like a switch was flipped. All the good that been made disappeared in a few days.  I realized that when I'm at camp I feel like an adult, something I don't feel at home. And that start contrast in feeling killed my motivations.

My new plan, to get a job and apartment, seemed the most grown up thing to do. I had never lived on my own before and I figured it was time. I got a position at my old job, the one that I quit after my mental breakdown, and resolved to use it to my advantage. Save up some money, move out, and eventually in a year or two, move somewhere with the job.

On paper this all made perfect sense. I'd be making good money, and with no real bills, though I had yet to buy a new car, I would be able to sustain myself once some things fell into place.

I moved in with my father, something I will probably never do again. I lived on his floor as well, and worked to save up money to buy myself a new car. The mental strife he put on me was unbearable and the second I could I left, back to my mothers. It's been a few months since I've come back and my goals are starting to change again.

I couldn't move out in December like I wanted, and I'm starting to think I don't want to commit to a lease in Kentucky anymore. I've lived here for 22 years, the majority of my life, and I've never really felt like it was my home. That has been made more clear having spent time away in Maine. Not to say Maine will be my new home, I just know what Kentucky isn't the place.

I'm not happy here, I'm not motivated here, I find I'm mostly depressed and lonely. My friends have moved away and are moving forward with their lives, doing all the things I wish I could do. I want those same things.

When I think about living here and trying to make a life I'm reminded of a story my uncle told me once:
"I wanted so bad to move my family to the Virgin Islands because I missed living there from when I was a kid. I spent years going over my finances and making plans but no matter what I did something would always come up. I didn't take the hint and kept trying and trying to force it to happen because I wanted it so much. Sometimes you have to realize that you can't force these kinds of things, no matter how much you want them."

I feel the same about living here. I've tried making it work, living here. I've tried getting in relationships, and starting a "life" with someone, getting everything checked off I needed to but it always fell apart.

I'm not saying I believe in fate or destiny, that's a different conversation after I think on it more, but I do believe you can keep making the wrong decisions for what you think are the right reasons.

In 2018, I have the potential of great change, the kind of change that will make things in my life so different I can hopefully feel at home. Everything is up in the air, as it always is, until I reach up and grab it. I'm hoping and planning for success and failure in these endeavors.

All I can hope for is that the vibes of 2017 stay on their side of the arbitrary line.

Eighteen by Joyce Manor

it's been

it's been a week
lay alone in my bed
more than a week
spent alone in my head

it's been a year
since i heard you passed
more than a year
spent living with death

it's been a second
feel this pain in my chest
more than a second
spent not feeling my best

it's been a day
let me hear your voice
more than a day
spent missing the noise

it's been a minute
lost track of the time
more than a minute
spent saying i'm fine

it's been a while
since we've shared a kiss
more than a while
spent wishing for this

overcast

Rain.
Again with
the damn rain.
It's the third day
in a row. Always the
same with the pouring
rain.The mist too, I can't
escape the cold and the
gloom. Maybe in the
next day or two I
can escape the
never ending
rain.

enough

There's not enough hours in the day,
enough resolve in my brain
enough time to have my actions
repeat the words that i say

Too much distraction
too much abstraction
too much detraction
too much non-action

I sit alone in my head at night
wishing i had the will to fight
all the battles I wage
on the dark for some light
hoping in my old age
i'll finally be alright

Not enough hope in the day
enough scope in my ways
too much loss when they say
we can't do things this way

there's a heavy price to pay
and i'm willing to cash out
all the chips that i'm handed
all the cards that i'm dealt

when the cycles complete
we will not know defeat
hit the reset button
before we hit delete

on our lives in the moment
i can see resolution
take back what is ours
that's the only solution

don't be silent in this
we can't afford to miss
a chance at success
a chance to dismiss

all the wrong in our lives
wishing instead to die
holding onto cold lies
making deals with sky

There's not enough will in the masses
enough strenght in the classes
enough hope in their basis
to fulfill this new stasis

stability we hope to see
from a world that is blind
apathy's all we recieve
from a broken shallow mind

There's not enough fight in your heart
enough passion from the start
enough with this hollow march
to the graves dug deep in dirt

A Plane

I boarded a plane today, not knowing where it would bring me.
I took a step into the future, not sure of the outcome.
When all my doubts are silent, I can move unhindered.
They aren't quiet often, so I take any chance I get.

I boarded a plane today hoping for a better tomorrow.
The clouds pass by and I let myself dream,
Of a home in the town where my feet will find ground.
A place where my dreams are found.

I fell asleep on the plane today, and your face came to mind.
I cross the skies and hope you'll be on the other side.
The sun hits your face and shines in your eyes.
All my love for you ignites, it'll never die.

I boarded a plane today, knowing it'll bring me to you.
I took a first step into the future, unsure of the outcome
When all my fears are absent, I move swiftly.
They aren't gone often, but you help keep them away.

With Heart and Pen

"If a writer falls in love with you, you will never die." 

I'll write you into every word, every picture of the mind, and every star in the sky. You're the breath filling my lungs and the warmth in my heart. You are the inspiration behind every sweet declaration, every whisper of love.

You will never die as long as the words ring true and beyond. Once uttered they float into the ether and become one with the other muses scattered throughout time.

I weave you into the fabric of my imagined worlds. You are the gift in dreams.

Perhaps, you're the girl down the block or the queen in the castle, the mermaid in the ocean, or the spirit in the moon.

Whoever you may be in the story I hope you can see the level of attention I paid, the delicacy I used to tend to you.

 Worthy of attention and love; never ceasing to warm my soul.

Changing of Seasons

A day ago I found myself driving home and the drive from anywhere back to my house becomes unbearable after about twenty minutes (the drive being over 45 mins if I'm anywhere important). Usually when I hit that point of the drive The Pull starts to take effect and the seduction of jerking my wheel becomes stronger and stronger. The classical music pouring through my speakers are enough to keep me steady, or at least that's what I give credit to for keeping me on the straight and narrow.

I know what causes this pulling of my mind. For the past years I've felt a lack of control in my life and doing something substantial such as that would, in theory, give me full control of my situation if only for a second or two. That yearning for control creates a substantial amount of stress on my load bearing centers. But this most recent drive was different.

I imagined my future and the possibility that lay before me if I attempt a certain route. I saw myself older and happy, surrounded by people that love me and by people that I love in turn. In that moment of that vision I surrendered. I surrendered control and I surrendered doubt and fear to that vision.

And I felt a wave of calm.

I always weigh different options and have an almost constant push and pull in my mind about my future. This harkens back to my constant "choices-without-choosing" problem. But for a second in my life while confronted with a wild instance of control (the pull) I surrendered.

I believe we are on tracks that lead us into the future and if we only surrender to the path we will find it becomes less cumbersome.

Here is to me surrendering and hopefully seeing that vision come true in 2018.


The sun hits my face and a smile spreads as I see your face. We're older now but happier than we've ever been. It only gets better from here. The bell chimes and the hustle begins anew but I'm content in this chaos. Content in this life, for the first time in forever. 

Warmth in Winter

In the late fall and winter months I tend to lock myself in my room; shutting out the cold and the dark of the decaying world outside and yet creating a world of cold and dark inside as well. 

It's a cycle I tend to play out year after year. My old solaces found in escapism are now gone from me and when I reminisce on them it only drives a pain deeper into me. The fact that the days of the past were filled with strife but I found a recourse to help stem the tide of seclusion. Now that recourse is absent and all I'm left with is the pain. The pain of loneliness and solitude, partially of my own making, the pain of separation and the pain of darkness. 

In this though I don't yearn for warmth on the outside. Most people when confronted with cold and darkness attempt to escape it altogether. My family always speaks of moving south to warmer climes but I don't share that sentiment. I want to find a way to embrace the cold and conquer it. Running from the darkness doesn't defeat it, it only strengthens it. You must overcome it to truly advance. 

The way I wish to combat it though involves things I can't get at this moment. A companion to keep me warm in mind and spirit as well as body. An environment that helps foster a sound mind and clear view of the future. A home that has warmth embedded within it even when the lights are off and the fire is out. I yearn for the strength to see the beauty in the cold, the mystery of the darkness. 

The changing of seasons has always been a detriment to me but I can see that years of dealing with it have made me wise to it and I hope that as the years keep going by I will become stronger. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In this instant I see a den, warm and inviting, beckoning me to join in the serenity. There is a low fire that needs tending and the first snow of winter is dancing outside. In the corner sits a chair with a little side table, a book and lamp upon them. Next to that is a couch and where you are sleeping, a blanket haphazardly pulled over you and your own book laying on the floor. I smile as I see your calm quiet expression in sleep. I lift you up from the couch and cart you to our bed and put you back to sound sleep, kissing your forehead as I withdraw. It pains me to have to leave you alone for another night but work can't help but whisk me away. I stop at the door frame and look at you again and my lips part. 

"I love you...sweet dreams." 

I bundle up and exit the house greeted by the fierce winter that seemed so serene while observing it from the warm den. I pull the scarf closer to my face and shiver a little but the old pain I felt in my chest at such times is nowhere to be found and if I had the notion, I'd smile at the fact. I'm where I need to be, but also where I want to be. I'm home. 

Cryptic VI

Inside the pain grows

Making me wish I could sleep forever

Instead of waking to another bleak day

Sitting alone in the corner of my mind

Silently hoping for the pain to end

Yesterday's light shines brighter for me

Only a dream could save me from this pain

Underneath all the strife my love persists 

First Words

Stereo

Stereo speakers couldn't drown out the words playing in Michael's head. The memories weren't fazed by the Taproot track playing on repeat in his room. He laid on his back staring lazily at the ceiling; the window passed a warm breeze in from the street. Michael had three months left of his senior year and his mind was repeating over and over the words his father had said to him a week ago.
"When you turn 18, you're out!"
Michael's birthday was in a week and he wasn't sure what would happen to him. He tried to use the music to hide the truth but if anything it only hid his movements in his room from the outside world. He could turn it up as loud as he wanted, no one else was home. No matter the sounds the reality wasn't being masked. He had to find a way to get through the next week without losing his mind. What would happen to him if he moved? What would happen to school? His job? Who would he live with? All this swam in his head as his father's words played over and over.

After the tenth loop of the same song Michael finally got up to switch it but his hand froze before touching the display as the song was ending. Standing with his face so close and his ears no engulfed by the sound he started to sing.

"sometimes I would give anything to be something more than nothing, 
something more than nothing."

The words finally drowned it all out, once his own voice was melded with the music. He didn't know what he would do, he couldn't imagine it but he felt that if he held onto something in him, that he could make it through. He had to make it through. One way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seventh

"Seventh from the right, down two, and that should be it." Mary guided Jason's hand as he traced the markings on the wall. The image of the wall and Jason on her view screen were shaky and kept cutting in and out but it would suffice for this purpose. They had been trying to decipher the hieroglyphics on the wall for three hours now but it was written in a cipher and not straight forward like most wall writings of the area.

This was the third cave they had uncovered in the Martian Valley "Eileithyia", named after the Goddess of Birth, since this place seemed to be the birth of Martian civilization or at least a primitive language. It looked vaguely like ancient Sumerian and Egyptian but wasn't a clear match. Scattered over Mary's desk lay pictures of script written in the other caves and simple scribblings trying to match up markings and discern simple ideas from them. Pictographs were her specialty and were the reason she was on this mission now.

"This one?" Jason's voice came cracking through the radio. He was pointing at a scribble on the wall and held up his scanner to transmit the image. Mary was looking for a specific order of pictographs so getting the wrong one might mess up the order.

"No, one more down. That one." Mary pointed to the screen with her pen out of habit.

"Scanning." The blue light from Jason's handheld scanner sent a digital copy of the pictograph to Mary's computer screen as well as a print out simultaneously. She held up the paper to the light and placed it next to the fourteen pictures in the sequence.

"Alright Jason, you can come back in." Mary radioed back. Jason turned to the camera and gave a thumbs up, then the screen went out completely. Mary's attention was drawn wholly to the fifteen scraps of paper. The pen in her mouth was being chewed to bits as her eyes jumped from image to image. She turned to her desk and pulled out her notebook. Worn and bent from constant use she flipped to a clean page and started to write words. The decipher of the previous caves went rather smoothly once the initial shock wore off; the shock of finding writing on another planet. Mary, a linguist and historian of ancient and dead languages had been sent up to Mars three years ago when the first cave was unearthed. She along with a team of researchers arrived to find walls filled with pictographs, not unlike what one would see in Ancient Egypt or Babylon on Earth.

The current cave they were working on was similar but right away Mary noticed a cipher. The team of scientists had figured out, roughly, what most images, might, mean and had pieced together a rather simple narrative. Again, not dissimilar to what one might find in a pyramid back home. However, the third cave didn't make sense outright, as if the images were in a jumble. Mary's burning question was, why would they write in a cipher on a wall? On a tablet, or something small makes sense. Write a secret message, hand it to someone in secret, and it stays between you. This would be the equivalent of writing a cipher on the side of a building in New York City. Ciphers were meant to conceal truths and were secretive, not something you'd paint on the side of a wall.

The configuration Mary had instructed Jason to send was the third iteration of her decryption formula. It seemed to have a rule of fifteen, hence the fifteen pictograph sample. In the corner of the room was a recycle bin crammed with the old iterations, which Jason had offered to burn but Mary held him off "just in case". Right now she could pull out different words or images and make sense of them. As she thumbed through the pages and made her own little scribbles Jason reentered the room having completed his decontamination and re-compression.

"How's it looking?" Jason said taking a seat by the computer. He noticed an old cup of coffee, sniffed it and took a swig. For scientists, their crew lived more like a college dorm than what one would expect of such high thinkers.

"Bird,"  Mary pointed to the first pictograph, "which we've decided means flight or movement." Jason stood from the chair cracking back and tossing back the last of the cold coffee and took his place next to Mary.

"Bird, canyon, cart, waves...I know most of these now Mary, but what does the phrase mean? Or is there even a phrase in there?" Jason asked pointing back towards the monitor, his mind extending to the cave he just left. Mary frowned looking from her notes to the pictures. It didn't make a phrase but Mary didn't want to admit it to Jason.

"Maybe the base value is wrong..." Mary said under her breath. She pulled the images down and started to toss them into the bin when she caught the sight of one image upside down. She started to tear apart the bin and laid the pieces on the ground. Jason came up to her.

"What are you doing?"

"They aren't just out of sequence, some are upside down." She said spinning the characters on their axis. As she shifted the pages the phrase started to make sense in her head and she went to the notebook to take notes. She wrote furiously as though if she didn't get it down right that second the idea would be lost to her forever and she wouldn't be able to discern it again. Jason was kneeling down trying to "read" the phrase but his knowledge was still rather elementary.

"What does it say Mary?"

"Give me a second." Mary scribbled and tore her pen across the page then dropped the cap from her mouth. She turned the paper to Jason as he walked up to her.

"Really?" Jason said a little confused and dumbfounded.

On her notebook read the words "Flight from Mars, catastrophe, escape flee to Earth. Start again."

"A secret in plain sight, a warning to those who could read it. It was a message to save those from the end of Mars." Mary said. Now it made sense, not everyone would see through the cipher, only those who were looking would know.

"Not just that Mary, this proves life came from Mars. We're Martians! I have to send a report." Jason jumped to the computer screen to start a message but Mary was left in the idea of what it must have looked like on Mars eons ago, the cipher out int he public, an enigma to most but a warning to others. A "get out while you still can" warning to those who could see. What had happened to the planet not much was left to tell her or any one else, but this proves the Martians knew something was happening, something they had to escape from. But why would they not spread this news? Then it hit her, it was a cipher for the ones who were worthy.

The cipher told her two things, Martians knew they were in danger, and there were classes even here. Those worthy and unworthy of life. It made her sick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing Update: December

As a writing exercise I decided to start a short story with a random word. I found a random word generator online and all the only rule is I need to start the story with that word.

My first 3 attempts at this are under the heading "First Words". I will likely continue this exercise incrementally like my poetic series Cryptic by simply adding roman numerals to each iteration.

The lack of work on my novel won't keep me from writing. I won't let it.

In other news, since it is now December I should comment on how NaNoWriMo went...I didn't write anything.

After giving a short explanation to a few fellow authors one day at the library, whom all told me that NaNoWriMo was a waste of time, I decided not to go through with working on "The Elevator" which was my tentative novel idea. I started and completed a project in NaNoWriMo in 2015, (I say completed but I simply hit the 50k requirement) and passed it up in 2016 since I was in England then. This year I had hoped and planned to do it again but after the responses from the others I decided not to pursue it again.

Since August, I haven't worked much on my novel Dreams of Machines. I'm hoping my new reader will give me feedback soon because my progress in hinging on their input. Over the past month I've been reading Dostoevsky again and have writing shorts here and there, mostly on here, to keep my motivated.

My motivation and creative are lacking now that the seasons are changing but hopefully the changes will full some sort of inspiration.

That's why I'm doing the writing exercises. I'm not putting to strict of constraints on myself yet just testing the waters. So no word limits or subject restrictions. I might do that in the future (doubtful).

Anyway, keep an eye out for "First Words" in a few days.

Cryptic V

Yesterday I was alive
Our lives are forever intertwined
Underneath all the pain and strife
Roads in life won't unwind

Lost again in the past
Only hope I had is lost
Voices silenced in a rush
Ending all I wish is hushed

Knowing all there is to know
Every inch of you
Every kiss from you
Pressing heavy on my heart
Silences all of my doubts

Make a change and make it soon
Even if the night still looms

Saving whispers in a bottle
All the wonders I still follow
Never cease to make me smile
Entering my dreams together

Someone In Control

What does the mind do when it has too many choices? It gets hyperactive, shorts out, then shuts down.

At least that's what happens to my mind.

I attempt to do a simple task: read a book. But in the attempt I realize if I have the free time to read a book, then I could also equally use that time to watch a movie, or start my laundry, or write a poem, or paint a picture, or take a walk, or play a video game, or start that friendship bracelet, or call a friend, or do the dishes, or make a sandwich, or, or, or...... bouncing from task to task in my head not choosing yet going over the choices until the time set aside to read is consumed by not making the choice.

I've felt this same struggle with much greater things than just occupying my free time. I've gone through this mental circus while trying to choose a career, or to go to school, or to move away, or to stay at home, or to finish my book, or to start a comedy show, or make a youtube channel, or start a podcast, or become a teacher, or, or, or, or, until I'm almost 30 and I'm still trying to choose.

In my life I have made choices, many choices. When they are limited it's easy to make them. When it's between making coffee or not, untying my shoes or not, washing my hair or not, those choices are simple. They are binary choices. To do or not to do.

But when the choices are open, say "how do I fill my time?" or "What do I want to be when I grow up?" the multitude of choice cripples me.

I see too many possibilities so I choose none. I can't pick between them so I won't pick any.

The fear of missing out on an opportunity in one regard stops me from experiencing any opportunities at all.

This has been an ongoing issue for me in life and I don't see it ever ending.

Will I get an apartment? Or will I move to Maine? Will I go back to college? Or will I just work 9-5? Will things ever change or will I stay stuck in this never ending cycle of choices and not choosing?

I need a push in the right direction. A closing of doors. I need someone to make the choice for me or I'll stay in this limbo forever.

The King is Dead, Long Live the King

With the word of his death on all the radios, TV channels and headlines, we had thought, had hoped that it was the mark of the end. The end of an era of ridiculousness, of deceit, of oppression. In some ways that was true. The face of our oppressor, a man unfit for the place he held above us all, would be buried or burned and resigned to the past as a black stain on our histories, but not as a force of anything immediate anymore. He would speak no more false words, hold no more false council or bring upon anymore fear or doubt. But it turns out there are no true endings, only beginnings. His death marked the end of some pain yes, some disdain and lifted a weight off our shoulders but it was short lived. 

It turns out men take their own lives, as this one did, just before the world they had a hand in creating is fully formed but not before they are born. The world they left behind, shaped by their menacing hands still exists despite their lack of breath and beating heart. With the death of that man came the death of our nation, the death of our way of life. The death of our reality. 

Systemic diseases don't attack all things all at once. They take time, eating away at the fringes or start somewhere central but seem contained. You get a pain in the liver, you assume it’s just the liver and you fix the issue. Then the pain subsides or moves somewhere else. You follow the source of pain around until you ultimately ease it completely or the patient dies. There are no two ways about it, or so you might think. There is always a third option that we are almost born to be blind to, and that is understanding the underlying issues. It turned out the liver pain had come from heavy drinking. Instead of telling the patient to stop or even having the patient listen, the liver became inflamed and was treated for the inflammation. The drinking persists however and next comes the lungs, a terrible cough. To some it would seem unrelated but to experts it’s a clear sign of spreading. First the liver, then the lungs, then the heart. Then without swift action, death. 

Following the same analogy, we can look at the fall of a nation. A systemic problem might exist in the fringes, poverty, crime, bigotry, and they are combatted as if they are the whole disease and not a symptom of a greater issue. You put a homeless man in jail, you get more police on the streets, you decry all those with other worlds views. All have their varying degrees of helpfulness but as soon as the pain goes away the mind of society goes blind to it, when it’s moving to someplace else. 

One great factor of our society that was left to metastasize under the weight of years was a compound problem. one-part apathy, one-part stupidity. It turns out evil men do get away with things when good men do nothing. But evil men know that to keep a good man away they need to first make him not care and second keep him stupid enough to never care again, or in the case of what happened to us, stupid enough to care about the wrong things. 

Like a disease, a common cold, these issues come and go in a cycle. You never truly get rid of a cold it just doesn't affect you most of the time. In comparison, you'll never get rid of evil men, they just don't affect you most of the time. The problem is, before the death of the aforementioned man, we had a cold, a flu even that was making us bleed from the eyes, but each new symptom trumped the last and eventually our sick state became our new normal. We didn't know what it felt like to breathe through our nose anymore, we didn’t' know what it felt like not to have hot flashes, we didn't know what a clear world looked like. Each new symptom, overshadowed the last to the point we forgot what we were even sick with in the first place and how, if we had dealt with it then, it wouldn't have become the cancer we so held onto now. 

When it comes to society, anyone looking in from the outside can see the flaws and correct for them mentally before deciding to join or even enter into it. They decide to accept the society that exists before them, through the door or decide to make changes once they step through. The hard thing about living inside a society is it's hard to dissociate enough to see the problems that need fixed or need addressing. Some people, that are educated enough, have enough foresight or enough wisdom to, have looked back in time to the repeating cycle of illnesses and deemed it necessary to deal with the problems at hand. But most, if not the majority of people in a functioning society don't have the mental capacity to look forward or back beyond their immediate framework. They are stuck in the Present and have no sight. These people are the ones most affected by the issues we face, but they are also the ones you perpetuate them. 

Again, let's think of it like an illness. The Wiseman gets a cough, an itch, or an ache. He looks back into his past and realizes he's felt this way before after a bad night of drink, a meal that didn't sit well or perhaps it was the changing of seasons. He looks at the amount of time he suffered before, realizes now is a sign to change something, to help mitigate that pain from ever happening to him this time around. The cycle has repeated but now with his hindsight he can help direct the problem. He takes more time to rest, visits his physician or even simply takes things easy. In these actions he still feels sick for a few days but not at the same level as last time and he knows for the future when he feels this way again, if it's something not entirely unpreventable, how to combat it. 

The Present man feels the same sensations. But instead of looking backwards to when he was affected before, since this is indeed an issue he has dealt with multiple times, he looks around him, around him in the present moment for a culprit. Bad things don't happen to good people for no reason, the Present man thinks. There must be some agent against me right now, making me feel this illness. He looks around him scouring for a scapegoat for his pain, and all the while the symptoms go unchecked, the wrong culprits are found and the man, furious in his lack of being healthy, repeats a similar cycle. The cycle of hindsight blindness. The man, stuck in his presence, cannot and will not ever see the past. He won't see that the last time he was ill it wasn't the dog that he kicked for fear it's fleas caused him pain, or the neighbor he raps on the head with a pipe for fear he's been poisoned, or the child in the corner he chastises for having a wee cough. The illness is a cycle like a cold and has repeated over and over in his life. He is blind to that fact or too stupid to realize and lets the illness fester under the skin until he is too sick to move. 

The Wiseman sees signs, looks for clues, and most importantly remembers his past. The Present man sees nothing, looks for a scapegoat, and most importantly forgets he even has a past to remember. 

Though I'm not sure what's worse, not remembering your past or remembering it and dismissing it on merit alone saying "that was the past, these things are wholly new, wholly different. I can't base my actions off them." 

I think essentially the latter is worse since in this instance they are sound of mind to realize there is a past to look upon but unwise enough to think it isn't the same. These people are the downfall even more of a society that is sick. These False Wisemen tend to inform the Present men and show them ways of intention, new ways of scapegoating, new villains to combat. 

The False Wiseman, is a man that can see the past, as I’ve stated, but instead decides to dismiss it. They play the fiddle of deception, self or otherwise, and lead the Present man and their fellow False Wiseman into the future all the while going blind to the stones on the path. Stones that if were removed wouldn’t hinder their passage. They think they can see into the future or at least plan on paving their own way all the way forgetting to look at the signs that pass them by for when they are past they are dismissed and when they are dismissible they are forgettable. 

It doesn't take many generations for a False Wiseman to become a Present man. For the inherent problem with a False Wiseman is he dismisses his past, one step away from becoming blind to it. Once you convince yourself the past is not important or relevant despite the reoccurring signs, you will all at once go blind to it and the population of Present man grows ever larger. 

Now, you might be wondering, who then was our dead man? Which camp does he fall into? Is he a Present man for the lack of deference he held upon us? A False Wiseman for seeing the past and dismissing its merits? A Wiseman? 

In fact, he is none of the above. The distinction of Wise, Present or False man only applies to the layman. The general societal fodder that walks the streets, breathes the air and makes it so the world can keep spinning. The world rests upon their shoulders and either grows or falters to the beat of their feet. 

No, the man I've spoken of is in fact a part of a different stratum of people. The Elite. The Elite fall into a few categories that I will cover here: 

There are the Givers, the distributors of things to the those below knowing they have the means to do so. For example, a man that knows of illness, well versed in its tenants goes to the layman, no matter his state of mind, and informs him giving him treatment and giving him help. These are the bastions of the Elite. They hold knowledge the layman has not learned, they have supplies the layman cannot wield, and they hold council for the layman to the other Elite. 

There are the Takers, the hoarders of all things, taking it upon themselves to grasp tightly all things, whether it be wealth, knowledge, space, or material things in any capacity and only gives when he deems necessary, which is not very often. For example, a man who spends all his time and energy acquiring wealth to the point of over extension to where when greeted by a beggar on the street he doesn't even spit. He sits so high upon his throne of gold hoards, he can't even smell the peasant groveling at his feet, only tossing a copper piece out of sheer disdain of the copper and not the wellbeing of the peasant. 

There are the False Givers or Disruptors, those who are unfazed by the movements of the layman and decide to on a whim throw a wrench into the cogs of the machine. Men with knowledge and power who only give after they have caused a problem, selling the solution for their own personal gains. For example, a man breaks the pipes under the ground leading to your house unbeknownst to you, then knocks on your door to sell you knew pipes. (it should be noted False Givers exist in layman as well, usually false giving can turn a layman into this form of Elite)

There are the Kings or Nobility. Those who feel they are Elite by divine right; more of an old-fashioned idea I must say but still holds true for the Elite classes now. 

And there are the False Kings or Fools. These Elites are the strangest of all that I or any other historian have ever seen. They take cues from all other types of Elite and attempt to make an amalgamation of all the subsets. They attempt to be all knowing, all powerful, all wealthy, all benevolent but in fact they are none. 

And for this example, I will explain to you the man I have spoken of before, our own False King. 

The False King in dealing with the layman, will attempt to cure his illnesses. He feigns knowledge, unlike the wise man or even the false wise man, pointing to unrelated causes causing an uproar of anger which leads to unwarranted scapegoating or selling them false cures. He feigns benevolence, saying he will spread his good fortune onto the masses, when in reality has none to spare not even for himself. His castle walls are made of cardboard and his crown is made of colored Tin. Yet the visage, clouded in the Present man by his illness and his presence, cannot see the falsehood. He feigns mercy, calling upon the weak and the meek to stand beside him in a time of public grace, but behind his doors sends notes into the air calling for their eradication or even subjugation. He feigns level headedness by appointing advisors that appear to be experts in subjects but then decides they are expendable if only to make him look more powerful. The False King will not let any fools sit on his council for he is the top fool and needs not have more surround him lest they take his seat from him. 

The False King is a contradiction, wealthy with no wealth, intelligent with no knowledge, charismatic with no personality, merciful with no humanity, gracious without grace, and so on. 

It is not often that False Kings are set upon a throne. It is not often a member of this Elite class is held higher than the others to become the head of their ranks. Only in desperation do the Elite succumb to a False King. 

In our time, this desperation, which has repeated itself over and over, is the looming fear of loss of Elite status. The Elite class, have always been Elite, will always be Elite, and will always fight to keep it that way. Through fear, intimidation, false giving, or even suppression, the Elite will hold the layman in his place. 

The normal course of action for a layman in this instance is to rise up, push the boot off their face and strike down the Elite. This is the inherent fear of the Elite mind you, that the layman, will one day either become all wise or listen for an instant to the wise of their breed and not be held down. That they will one day see beyond the haze of their presence and with a glimmer of ferocity use their strength as the holders of the world to shake the Elite from their towers. 

In my time, the time of this man, the time of the False King, the Elite had a great plan. They would hold a veil over the faces of the Present men, whom I’ve stated outnumber the Wiseman, enticing them with the ability to become Elites themselves. All they need do is work hard, harder than they ever could, cheat out their neighbors (false givers), and one day the almighty hand of the Elite would reach down from the clouds of haze grip them tightly and bring them into their ranks. This illusion of inclusion was built so exactly that the Present man was fooled into doing just this. 

The Elite had fashioned themselves a mask, a mask of benevolence that only the Present man could see. For in their wisdom, in their never-failing hindsight and perceptions, the Wiseman could easily see past the mask. They knew that the mask was made to shield the Elite and to fool the Present man, and in this knowledge tried to combat it. 

The Wiseman having seen the mask before in many iterations set out to inform the Present man. In the past there are varying levels of success. And all that success is owing to how the Wiseman is perceived. If he is perceived with love and adoration, he will be heeded, and the mask will be stripped away, the Elite will be thrown aside, and the tower will be burnt. If the Wiseman is perceived with contempt or fear or hatred, then the mask will stay in place and the Wiseman will fear for his life. 

In this instance the Elite were smart as well. To keep a Present man tethered to the mask they must silence all naysayers. The biggest naysayer being the Wiseman. In my time, the Elite had succeeded in destroying the Wiseman’s credibility, destroying all reliance on fact or truth. When the Wiseman is no longer heard on his merits of wisdom then there will be no voices left to speak in opposition. And when the Wiseman is made the scapegoat for pain, they will become the enemy. 

The enemy of my time that formed the False King was knowledge. Truth, wisdom, and knowledge had all become distorted and branded with a stamp of disapproval. The Present man, in his weakness, accepted this new reality without hesitations as the Wiseman tried to stand his ground but lost at every turn. They had succeeded in creating and maintaining their mask of deception. 

But why then place the False King in power if he is so dangerous? you might be asking. Well, in times of great desperation when all other methods have failed, the Elite will pull out a trump card. A means to clean the slate in a sense, though it is far from clean. They hit a reset button on civility and attempt to shoe horn in something so insane that when the insanity ends they can attempt their old tricks again, once forgotten by the layman. 

The Elite have a few tricks to keep the layman in check but once their side of the scale is tipped too far by their power the layman has the upper hand. Too much wealthy, leads to sloth. Too much power leads to unchecked greed. too much influence leads to wrath. All these fatal sins are seen by the layman, since they are on the layman’s level. Once they face behind the mask becomes too proud, too sure of itself it tries to discard the mask all together, as it can be stifling. Once the mask falls though the layman, as if waking from a dream, realizes the Wiseman’s words and begins to revolt. 

In this the Elite become afraid, they thought they had it all worked out in their favor, but the layman was not fooled any longer. Past attempts to rebuild this mask usually follow from the leadership of one of the other Elite classes.

A Giver, for instance, who promises benevolence, is greeted as a savior from the oppressors though in his thirst for power will become an oppressor in time. 

The Taker, taking away all freedoms as well as material things, making the layman dependent upon him. (This is usually very short lived as the mask is never actually created again and the layman lays in wait to strike a fatal blow)

The False Givers, much like the Giver in form but devolves into a baser Elite much faster. 

Or a King, the oldest and the most respected of the Elite, who can be a shining example of the other subsects or the most base.

None of these would work this time around so the Elite went for broke. Forming the False King to fit their needs as he will become whatever they want of him, but inside he is a chaotic force, with no master or conscience. He lives on impulse and has no constraints. He will do whatever they need of him but to their hesitation, he will also do whatever he wants as well. 

Let me state now that before the False King, the mask had been taken down and we were in a flux. There was a point when we as the layman could have made a stand and chosen a different Elite (as we can never be ruled by a layman, the Elite are by definition the ruling order). We had the choice of a Giver, a Disruptor (the False King in disguise), and a member of Nobility (entitled and feeling it was their right). The Noble and the Disruptor, fueling fear and making wild accusations were accepted outright by the Present men, for the present man is swayed by emotion and not reason. While the Wiseman, in their wisdom, knowing the Giver is the best choice of an Elite if it is available, flocked to the Giver in unseen droves. Emerging from cracks in the stone, letting their voices be heard. 

But as I’ve stated before, the Wiseman is outnumbered by the Present man and was silenced. Also with help of the Noble the Giver was silenced, ordered to claim fealty or be cast aside as an Elite. At this turning point it came down to which Elite the Elite wanted. They, being the higher class, are not blind to the layman (except for the Takers) they see what goes on below and they know that a new mask must be made that will benefit them most. Their choice was between the Noble from an opposition house yet still an Elite or the False King whom they could bend to their will. 

In their fury and their desperation, they chose the False King. A man they knew they could control initially, but not forever. Since behind the scenes the False King was making his own plans, or in fact the plans of an Elite outside the normal influences a foreign entity.

In this the False King was being pulled by two groups. He played his purpose well however, feigning all he needed to and creating the right or wrong amount of chaos to stir things up. Creating a new normal within the ailing Present man and pushing the Wiseman further and further to the fringes. We all felt as layman that something would need to change, that the uproar was too loud, and the sides were too skewed for this to go on for much longer. 

In the end (or the new beginning) the False King was dethroned (all a part of the plan mind you) and in his dismissal, he took his own life. The layman, having destroyed the mask, rejoiced in the toppling of the False King and the return to normal. But there was no return to normal, the normal we all knew before the False King was gone. The Present man simply didn't feel the illness anymore while the Wiseman in his wisdom could clearly see the path they had tread to this point. The Present man puts on a smile, feeling accomplished and goes back to his normal routine while the Wiseman lives in anguish knowing they have only cut off one head of the hydra. 

In this we live today. The Elite are forming their new masks and pulling the Present man in the direction they need to stay in power by any means necessary. 

The scary thing of this all isn't the fact the Wiseman was made an enemy, it isn't that the Elite do this over and over again. It’s that the Present man will never truly see beyond the haze. He is perpetually stuck in his presence and will never see beyond long enough. 

We are stuck in a cycle. The never-ending cycle. There are no true ends, only beginnings.