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About Literature / Student Member Nicholas19/Male/Canada Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
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Check out my gallery...some of my favourite poems aren't my newest!

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I don't favourite things often. If I've favourited something you've written, painted, drawn, photographed, etc., it means I like it a great deal.

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Our emotions force action, whereas reason, at best, makes demands of us. Frequently, our emotions force actions which are counter to reason, or at least not entirely in line with it. This is not always a bad thing. Sometimes, acting under the influence of emotion results in good things happening. Sometimes. More often than not, though, our emotions may force us into doing things we don't rationally want to do -- or, as many people with anxiety will attest, not doing things we'd actually like to do. Such is the life of a human being.

But should we allow ourselves to be controlled? Much less by what is surely prone to lead us astray -- certainly more so than reason? Or should we endeavour to control it -- to control the hand that manipulates the puppets, as it were? Perhaps. Surely, more autonomy and control over one's own life is a good thing. Controlling ones emotions is possible, to a significant extent. It is a fairly useful skill in many ways, in any case.

Part of being a mature and sensible human being is making important decisions based on sound logic and evidence. But then, how do we determine what is important? Some things are obvious, of course. Our physiological needs, and the like. But beyond that, why do we care, for example, about fictional characters? Or, for that matter, about people we have never met, or will meet, in the real world? In the first case, we project ourselves into a narrative, we relate our own experiences and feelings to those of the characters in the story. The most compelling narratives in this regard are ones that share in our deepest connections to each other and the world we live in. The stories that pull us deep into themselves and elicit all the emotions that would genuinely be felt were we to be living in that world. The tales that intuitively, fundamentally express some very human thing. Those are the narratives that speak to us on a very basic level. They do this, of course, by manipulating our thoughts -- and more importantly, our emotions. They take us on journeys much like our own life experiences, they teach us things that would otherwise have to be learned by, well, living. In the second case, the care for actual, living people or even perhaps animals, it is much the same way. We have encountered a narrative compelling enough to engender our concern and attention. That we can intuit morality to a great degree, and that our morality can be so shaped by narrative compulsion, leads me to believe that logic; while being an exceptionally powerful tool; is not sufficient to guide us in our lives. We need connection. This is what the narrative provides.

Obviously, it's clear that narratives have a great deal of control over how we think and act. Political and other social narratives can influence our lives in profound ways, in many cases determining whether we will live or die, or whether we will live comfortably or on the brink of destitution. More than that, they can influence not only our relationships to others, but our relationships to ourselves. This is what I think is the most important thing. Our collective human narrative is iterated in each one of us, but there are certain fundamental bits that we all recognize. How we put those bits together, though, is unique to each of us. We use much the same fabric to weave our own individual, unique tapestries. In this regard, we can recognize ourselves in others, but also recognize that we are not looking at ourselves.

Narratives control us all, to some degree or another; and this would be concerning, in the sense that we can manipulate others' narratives, were it not for the fact that through the nigh infinite variations in experience and circumstance; we are never controlled in precisely the same way. Our lives are narratives themselves, shaped by the other narratives they encounter. Humanity is like a fractal, recursively iterating to find yet more space, more unique experiences; yet the pattern is the same, all the way down: Human emotions; chaotically interacting, wondrously, infinitely and for as long as we exist as a species.
  • Mood: Content
  • Listening to: Blind Guardian, Nightwish, Epica, Gamma Ray
  • Reading: "Arena", a Magic: the Gathering novel
  • Watching: Castle, Supernatural, Agent Carter, Saving Hope
  • Playing: Magic: The Gathering
  • Eating: Whatever scraps of food I can get my hands on.
  • Drinking: Fresca and water.

Journal History

deviantID

A-Wandering-Man's Profile Picture
A-Wandering-Man
Nicholas
Artist | Student | Literature
Canada
I'm a writer, not an artist! And a pretty damn good one at that. :iconimsarcasticplz:

I'm looking to be a scientist by the time I finish university (read: PhD). I'm a student of philosophy, though I'm not enrolled in any philosophy classes. I'm a decent writer by any standard and an arrogant one by most. I'm politically active as an anarcho-communist and I try to address social issues with my writing, particularly my poems, but I also convey personal emotions in them, as well as my spiritual beliefs (I am a Naturalistic Pantheist and atheist; by spiritual I do not mean supernatural, to be clear.)

If you enjoy my writing, you're probably crazy; but then again, life is boring if you aren't. Normalcy's nothing to be proud of, in my opinion. I suppose I'm a fairly introverted person, though my friends know me to be loud and to laugh readily. Meeting strangers, particularly cute girls or respectable adults, is where my shyness reveals itself. I think too much, feel too much, and eat too much, and I don't think any of those things will ever change. I've been told on occasion that I am wise beyond my years and clever beyond reckoning, but despite my arrogance I have never really convinced myself of these supposed facts.

I love nature, especially forests and rivers; and I absolutely love pictures of nebulae and galaxies and the like from various observatories and the Hubble Space Telescope. I'd very much like to get a telescope of my own. I love standing outside, looking at the stars. Meteor showers are my favourite things to watch but I've only ever seen two. I love the complexity of life, and the greater universe. It's all so amazing.

I appreciate music greatly, though mostly metal and classical (and sometimes both combined); and I would have loved to have been gifted with musical ability, but I'm useless at playing music. I have an 11-key range on a piano, which is ridiculous, (I have big hands, ok?) but I'm useless with one. I love any music with cello, violin, or viola in it, and I wish I could play any of them, but alas -- no talent. I suppose I must make up for it in my writing. Some of my favourite bands are (in no particular order) Nightwish, Epica, Freedom Call, Gamma Ray, Dream Theater, System of a Down, Blind Guardian, and ReVamp, among others. I love Chopin's (classical) work as well.

I'm mercilessly rational, which accounts for the aforementioned wisdom, I suppose. I often find myself struggling to accept the paradigms of society, as most of them are irrational. And I really, really like pizza. And pasta. And pretty well anything else with cheese. Not relevant, really, but needed to be said.

I love living, but it terrifies me. Odd, that. Suppose that's how it's supposed to be.

My best friend in the world is MissSoarrow , so be nice to her!

As you may read below I'm a very quotable person.

"Perhaps, I think, the important thing is not only that we look to the stars in reverence, but that occasionally we tear our eyes from the great void for a moment to look over at our fellow humans, give them a smile, and encourage them to gaze at the wonders of the cosmos along with us."
― Me

"Those who think the air empty have never breathed the breath of life, they have never stood in the gale and released their pain and worries to the calming wind; never let themselves go, free in the swirling eddies of the ever-moving air. There is life in the air, in all the world, every day, in everyone and everywhere."
― Me (yet again)

“Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers.”
― Voltaire

"Come, come, whoever you are; wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving; Ours is no caravan of despair; come, yet again, come"
― Rumi, Sufi poet
Interests

Activity


I don't want to write about pain
Any longer. I don't want to refrain
From the experience of joy, or fun
Or excitement. I don't want to run
Away from my feelings; hide behind
A facade of placidity while my mind
Devours itself from the inside out.
I'm tired of forcing myself to rout
These burning thoughts from my head.
So many times desperately I've said
"Let me be, I have no will to fight,
Let me heal, under cover of night."

I don't want to write about pain.
I want to write about love, fire,
Passion, life, death, earth, rain;
The things of which I do not tire.
Of wanderers and whispers, without
Regard for worry and woe and doubt.
I want to captivate, awe, and amaze.
To entrance, and witness eyes blaze
With curiosity; set the spark alight
In their minds, to extend their sight.
I want to illuminate some modest part
Of the encircling darkness with my art.
Of Wanderers and Whispers
When I wrote this in the "enter text" window thingy, most of the lines lined up pretty perfectly. When I entered the formatting when I was done to add my favoured font in, it made the lines go all zig-zag-ish, which I think is kinda cool. This was actually a lot easier to write than it may look, the rhymes weren't as difficult as they usually are.

I've been told my poetry can be quite beautiful. I'm going to try not to waste that talent on depressing subjects any longer. I've said what I've needed to say in regards to my anxiety and depression, and while it was somewhat cathartic in most cases, it only expressed what I was feeling, it did not prevent or eliminate those feelings. That expression, while necessary at the time, has run it's course. I'll be trying to write more upbeat and/or political type poems from now on, for the foreseeable future. 

I had considerable difficulty coming up with a title for this poem, which is strange because I usually do the title first, then the body of the poem. It should have been obvious, I guess, but anyhow -- I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Our emotions force action, whereas reason, at best, makes demands of us. Frequently, our emotions force actions which are counter to reason, or at least not entirely in line with it. This is not always a bad thing. Sometimes, acting under the influence of emotion results in good things happening. Sometimes. More often than not, though, our emotions may force us into doing things we don't rationally want to do -- or, as many people with anxiety will attest, not doing things we'd actually like to do. Such is the life of a human being.

But should we allow ourselves to be controlled? Much less by what is surely prone to lead us astray -- certainly more so than reason? Or should we endeavour to control it -- to control the hand that manipulates the puppets, as it were? Perhaps. Surely, more autonomy and control over one's own life is a good thing. Controlling ones emotions is possible, to a significant extent. It is a fairly useful skill in many ways, in any case.

Part of being a mature and sensible human being is making important decisions based on sound logic and evidence. But then, how do we determine what is important? Some things are obvious, of course. Our physiological needs, and the like. But beyond that, why do we care, for example, about fictional characters? Or, for that matter, about people we have never met, or will meet, in the real world? In the first case, we project ourselves into a narrative, we relate our own experiences and feelings to those of the characters in the story. The most compelling narratives in this regard are ones that share in our deepest connections to each other and the world we live in. The stories that pull us deep into themselves and elicit all the emotions that would genuinely be felt were we to be living in that world. The tales that intuitively, fundamentally express some very human thing. Those are the narratives that speak to us on a very basic level. They do this, of course, by manipulating our thoughts -- and more importantly, our emotions. They take us on journeys much like our own life experiences, they teach us things that would otherwise have to be learned by, well, living. In the second case, the care for actual, living people or even perhaps animals, it is much the same way. We have encountered a narrative compelling enough to engender our concern and attention. That we can intuit morality to a great degree, and that our morality can be so shaped by narrative compulsion, leads me to believe that logic; while being an exceptionally powerful tool; is not sufficient to guide us in our lives. We need connection. This is what the narrative provides.

Obviously, it's clear that narratives have a great deal of control over how we think and act. Political and other social narratives can influence our lives in profound ways, in many cases determining whether we will live or die, or whether we will live comfortably or on the brink of destitution. More than that, they can influence not only our relationships to others, but our relationships to ourselves. This is what I think is the most important thing. Our collective human narrative is iterated in each one of us, but there are certain fundamental bits that we all recognize. How we put those bits together, though, is unique to each of us. We use much the same fabric to weave our own individual, unique tapestries. In this regard, we can recognize ourselves in others, but also recognize that we are not looking at ourselves.

Narratives control us all, to some degree or another; and this would be concerning, in the sense that we can manipulate others' narratives, were it not for the fact that through the nigh infinite variations in experience and circumstance; we are never controlled in precisely the same way. Our lives are narratives themselves, shaped by the other narratives they encounter. Humanity is like a fractal, recursively iterating to find yet more space, more unique experiences; yet the pattern is the same, all the way down: Human emotions; chaotically interacting, wondrously, infinitely and for as long as we exist as a species.
  • Mood: Content
  • Listening to: Blind Guardian, Nightwish, Epica, Gamma Ray
  • Reading: "Arena", a Magic: the Gathering novel
  • Watching: Castle, Supernatural, Agent Carter, Saving Hope
  • Playing: Magic: The Gathering
  • Eating: Whatever scraps of food I can get my hands on.
  • Drinking: Fresca and water.
My flesh is numbed by a dull, sorrowful ache;
A ringing, a reverberation of long-healed wounds.
Simple echoes of acute pain and suffering,
Muddled by and melded with agitation.

The vibration is constant, unending;
Spurred on by volatile worries.
The signal is utterly lost in the noise;
The words blur together and stain the page.

My nerves are frayed by the ever-present buzzing.
Droning, irreverent, incoherent wisps of thought;
They become moths to the flame of my anxiety,
Devouring my life's tapestry, leaving it ragged;
Riddled with weeping holes; and threadbare.

The white noise and the dreary, bleak darkness
Mix and mingle to form a seeping, grey sludge
Which drains into my empty skin and hollow bones.
It fills me with foreign energy; a morbid animation
Which approaches a state that might be called 'alive'. 

The numbness is overwhelming.
So I ask of you only one thing:
Innervate, release me from this
Barren expanse of nothingness.

Stimulate my senses, give me
That jolt of life, that cold rush;
Dig the tendrils deep into my flesh,
So that it might feel once more
The soft embrace of friendship.
Innervate
The titular word for this poem popped up into my head, for some reason, followed by what I think is a pretty good concept (which is, obviously, explored in the poem), so I figured it needed to be written.

This piece details what I often feel like in periods of drawn out, mid level anxiety. The word "Innervate" means to supply an organ or tissue with nerves, which are the type of cells that communicate to the brain certain signals, which ultimately, when interpreted, constitute our senses. They also tell other cells what to do (muscle cells, for example, contract when signalled appropriately by a neuron), and are actually the same sort of cell which make up our brains themselves.

This is the first time I've done this, but I'd like to dedicate this poem to my best friend MissSoarrow, both for being basically what I picture within the last line of the poem, and for being one of the few people in the world who can make me feel genuinely happy, and break the numbness for a little while.
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Inhale.

What will I do?!
I'm a failure!
No one cares about me!
Everyone is disappointed in me!
Everyone is judging me!

Exhale.

Calm down.

Inhale.

But everyone will see!
I failed! It's horrid!
Embarrassing! I'm so st-

Exhale.

No. Stop. None of that is true.

Inhale!

All of it is! They all see!
They all know!
Everyone knows!
I let them see how stupid and useless and
incompetent and worthless and wretched I am!
And they'll never let it go!

Exhale.

No.

Inha-
Exhale.

INHAL-
Exhale.

IN-
Exhale!

*gasp*
Let me breathe!

You're the one choking us.
Let Me Breathe
No idea where this came from, but the idea popped into my head so here goes.

This, my friends, is what anxiety usually feels like for me. Not fun.
Loading...
Walking down the street is hard. Well, it's physically easy. But mentally, it's a struggle. You have to get out of bed before you can even do it, which is hard enough. Then you have to make yourself look presentable, even though you never are. You have to look at yourself in the mirror and make sure your skin isn't so transparent that it shows the weak blood beneath. That, and, you know, zits.

Even if you do manage to get out of the door; which is not always the case, as sometimes it isn't willing to open; you have to face the judging eyes behind the curtains of every house you pass. You have to listen to their whisperings, their deceptions and insults and lies that you always seem to believe. Sometimes you want to  scream at them, tell them off. But you know that when the door opens they deny it all, they say it's in your head, that you're mad. They haven't the faintest idea, as they say, why you would accuse them of engaging in such horrible behaviour.

If you manage to get out of the drive, crescent; or whatever small, secluded street you may live on; you then have to face the even more pleasant ordeal of weathering the oncoming storm of automobiles. The arrogant trucks, the leering cars, the scoffing SUVs and minivans. They hurl insults and zip away before you have a chance to retort. You want to run after them, try to catch them at a red light. You want to pound on their windows and tell them they're wrong, that they don't know anything about you, that you're a good person, an honest person, someone who's trying their hardest. If you could just catch up to them, talk to them, maybe you could convince them that they're wrong about you. But you're always left behind. And it was never them you had to convince.
Left Behind
Just something that popped into my head and needed to be written -- I'm probably going to be writing a lot of these sorts of things as I get back into writing over the next year.

This one is very much a depiction of what it feels like, for me, to have to deal with perfectionism, anxiety, insecurity, and depression. Sometimes it very much feels like it's imposed on you, and that can make it so much harder to reach out. (But it is worth it, trust me.)
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:iconjackofalltrades0097:
jackofalltrades0097 Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
:hugs: Thank you for joining the Authors-Club! We are so glad to have you join our group and adding our work to our collection! 

On behalf of the Authors-Club, here's just a little bit of information as to what we're about! :

-- Please familiarize yourself with our Submission Rules before you begin to submit your works of literature into the group gallery.

-- We currently have a contest going on, with a cash prize, points, and feature opportunities!

-- Did you know that we've opened up a chatroom?  Check out our main page for that and other goodies!

Again, thank you so much for joining our club! If you need anything at all, do not be afraid to ask! Wither it be about our club, or even about the going on's in Deviant Art!  

I hope that you enjoy this group and if at any time you have questions, concerns, or ideas please contact me jackofalltrades0097 , or any of the other admin of our group!
Reply
:iconmagicaljoey:
MagicalJoey Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2014   Writer
Hi there,
You have been featured on My-Soul-Bleeds-Ink's front page as the featured deviant of the week. :la:
Reply
:icona-wandering-man:
A-Wandering-Man Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2014  Student Writer
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! Awesome! Thank you!
Reply
Hidden by Owner
:icon3wyl:
3wyl Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Hello! :wave:

On behalf of #SixWordStories, I would just like to welcome you to the Group!

We have many ways for you to get involved. If you have past stories, just submit them to Freestyle, and it'll be accepted if it is a proper story. We also have Prompts, but they're a bit more restrictive... More information about them is displayed here. We have listed our guidelines here, which includes our definition on What is a Six Word Story? to help you. ^^;

If there are any queries, please don't hesitate to contact us! More of our Happenings are displayed on the right hand side of our front page. :love:
Reply
:icona-wandering-man:
A-Wandering-Man Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2013  Student Writer
I've actually read most of that already, and have submitted one for the word prompt. ^_^
Reply
:icon3wyl:
3wyl Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Awesome! :la:
Reply
:iconphilosopherofsound:
PhilosopherOfSound Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2013   General Artist
I'm glad your bonding with the LLama I sent over. I'm building a herd myself.
Reply
:icona-wandering-man:
A-Wandering-Man Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2013  Student Writer
:)
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