This is a discussion on Take ten minutes and just... write within the The Art Museum forums, part of the Topics of Interest category; Originally Posted by justanotherperson you're actually allowed to go over if you're on a roll hahahah the ten minutes is ...
I took ten minutes and I came up with this.
So here we go! Another 10 minutes + all the time I need afterwards. So there is actually no point to set a timer. On the other side it is not the same then. Because you don't feel the pressure to write something in 10 minutes. So I wonder if you die, obviously your first 10 minutes are over, but perhaps you get another 10 minutes + all the time you want afterwards. That would be funny. All the pressure would be away but I guess you would live slower because you don't have to hurry up. If time is not important anymore you can just be lazy and do whatever you want and how long you want. Would it be boring after some time? Would you do nothing because you don't have to do anything then. Perhaps live is there because you should do things in a certain time? Well I don't really know the answer. No one has it. The dead ones don't come back. So it could be a very nice place or there is just nothing. Wouldn't be so bad either I think. Actually my grandpa died a year ago and my family is full of christians. And they say that christians are in a paradise after death. But nevertheless they are crying. I never really understood that. If gradpa is in a very nice place now there is no reason to cry. We should be very happy for him (he was very ill). On the other side there are muslims and if I'm informed correctly they get 72 virgins in heaven. First remark: that wouldn't be a paradise for me. Second remark: what do actually the women get? 72 men virgins? Hopefully God knows that I'm asexual and that I don't want any virgins. Oh well I'm not well informed about religions. I am agnostic, who knows want comes after death? We cannot prove that God exists and we cannot say that he doesn't exist. We can wait and live our lives and then we will see how it all turns out. When I was younger I wanted to learn Arabic to read the original coran, and Hebreic to read the original bible and then there are thousands of other religions, too that you could believe. I also like to translate and I know that there is a huge loss of the right meaning in a translation. So I think you need to read it in the original language. And then there is the problem that these books were written hundreds of years ago. So basically there are probably a lot of mistakes in it. Well, why am I writing about religion right now? I should actually read about the "OSI-Schichten-Modell" or doing my programming task. Later..
Yes, without a timer I'm much more relaxed. I guess it's the same with exams. As soon as I know that there is a time limit I get nervous. And then I start to procrastinate and so on. The same with arrangements. If I know that my friends come on a certain day and on a certain time I'm really nervous all the time and I cannot do something else until they are gone again. Time is terrible.
I feel I never have time for something. Even if I have enough time for everything.
I'm actually wondering if this is my normal thought process what I am writing here. Probably yes. And how does it differ now from other humans. Don't they think about things? What about extroverts do they speak without thinking? How could you do that? I have this all-the-time-thinking all the time! I even forget when I'm not speaking to other people, I'm totally oblivious to that because I always talk or think like this to myself in my head. And it feels as if I would participate in their conversation until they tell me that didn't say a word. Which is often very surprisingly for me, by the way. Because I'm constantly spea... thinking. But it's nice to learn about the MBTI and other personality systems, you can learn a lot about yourself and other people. I wonder how long this text is now. And how much time I spent here. I actually should do my programming tasks, but I don't want to start. I could keep writing. Then it's justanotherpersons fault, haha. justanotherperson is actually an interesting name. Not veeeery creative but actually could tell a lot about her character. Doesn't sound very unique although every human is unique. How can you say your just another person as an INTJ which is actually rather a rare type. I'm actually scared of the stereotypical INTJ to be honest. Will they rip apart my writing and point out every mistake or illogical thing? Will she be annoyed by my rambling? Will she also say "You INTPs have too many questions and too less answers" like another INTJ did? Are female INTJs softer than male INTJs? What is Ni all about? Why do they get a solution/plan/whatever without thinking? Why are hurricanes under her skin? What is her avatar meaning? Is she actually reading this post? till the end? What was actually my first topic when I started to write? Is this my Ne? Well, I think I should come to an end. But the funny thing is that it is only an end for the reader of this text because I keep thinking and thinking and thinking... Well, it's 7:00 a.m. now. 2 hours flew by like nothing! Perhaps I have no time limit in this thread but the real life time is unstoppable running. That's scary. I feel I should do somthing useful but on the other side I don't think that life expects something from a human. Animals are clever they probably always live in the present moment and don't worry so much about life. I heard ESFJs live also in the present moment. Do they worry so much about life? Why am I so much worrying about life? ...
The administrator stood her papers upright and tapped them on the desk until they became an orderly pile. She then arranged her pencils next to the pile in a militaristic line. Yet another glorious day to get nothing valuable accomplished. She checked her inbox. It was not teeming but respectably populous. She clicked on an e-mail: an appeal. She retrieved her rulebook and regurgitated its words into the message box, completely missing the point. Next e-mail: a complaint. Same. Next. Same. Next. She completed this task seamlessly. Then it was time to dole out the disciplinary actions. Typetypetypetype and put them in envelopes. This was her most cherished activity at work — next to Twitter. She posted a pleasant message about the absolutely charming and diverse and dedicated-to-success institution all in 140 also dedicated-to-success characters. Hours later, her boss would like the message. Hours and hours later, she would resume working.
Pressure points of totality
Shifting gears to insanity
See the world with clarity
Never mention of immortality
A flight of thought towards eternity
Comprehending the universe in its complexity
Now every thought’s a new universe
A new journey towards the point
Of complete and utter silence
Where one is whole
And whole is one
Trespassing through realities
Never fighting with anxieties
no more need of sedatives
no sign of the pestilence
never ever clinging by the fake reality
words smiling by the path of clarity
bringing light bringing sanity
endless trip of visions
all there is and more
making new decisions
capturing the whole
me and reality that is death and fatality
just another facet of tiring mortality
existence seems like a fallacy
in the realm of possible realities
I hate you. You know why I hate you? Because I don't know what else to do.
What are you anyway? Stardust with some consciousness?
You are some part of a greater cycle? Something that recycles the nose of Einstein and the sweet flesh of a desert cactus?
You call the fish swimming in the water a spiral? I haven't lived long enough to see that to completion.
I say that you are the rope around my neck. You ask me to look for things that are not there.
I do not know where they keep the diamonds. I do not know how to scoop the stars from the sky. Do you think I have sugar to sprinkle into the milky way? I do not know of this sugar. I have no squares or right angles.
Can you build a city with these? Can you stack a tower? For who? For ants? I do not want them in my coffee, for I am tired of drinking it.
I want to smell the sweet vapor of a cactus in the sun. I want to travel with the albatross, and be part of their silly dance.
I am angry at you for putting me here, among the stars.
Why leave me alone like this in a dark sky? Why make a mockery of it in the christmas laden houses below? We are not hanzel and gretel. I would prefer to be in another story that I don't know yet.
I want you to help me create it, but you don't know how, except to reach up futilely at the sky.
Did you grab some sugar, my friend? Is it pink? I saw pink sugar once, but I don't think it's made of stardust.
Maman. Mommy. I know you're not very happy with me. I'm not happy with myself either. I fell in love, I failed and did drugs. I miss him, not that one, the other one. You never saw him, even though he was my neighbor. He brought me much happiness. When you both, daddy and you, got angry and decided to send me home immediately, I knew it would be exile. And it does feel like exile. I have no one to talk to. I err and wander around in the house, with no one to talk to, not even you two. How I miss the excitement of my everyday life there. Sure, I wasn't very bright in my decision-making. I had no idea what I was doing would fuck me over, not once, not twice but every time I tried. I gave up. I will come back. I promise. I was angry, I am, still. But I do not show it. I am afraid people won't love me when they see the sourness of my words and eyes. He, the other one, thought of me as this kind, devoted girl who he shouldn't be afraid of. How many times did I have to hide my true hatred feelings for his empty and aloof words, I wish you knew. Momma, I am turning into Dad. I know what it feels like after seeing its disasters. But my anger is quite different. It's cold and abrasive and demeaning and utterly inhumane. That one night when I escaped from the other one and his idiotic friend, anger melted into coldness and I kept walking into the cold empty night breeze. He said "I'm scared. I've never seen you that angry", and I said "It's fine. I'm always angry anyway".
Coming home lifted a bit of that anger. Failures, repeated failures made me angry. Failed hopes and expectations.
Karma, for once, listen. If I have to go through this again, at least, let me have the pleasure of getting the friends and love and security and affection I need. If I do, I will work hard to achieve what my parents want from me.
That was really automatic writing for me. I let out everything I was thinking of. Thanks for the thread.