Monday, December 19, 2016

Lots of Text

Hello, internet friends. Today I visited my old high school to share experiences and converse with some old friends and instructors. It feels apropo to input this following text jumble as it explores my coming into writing. The following document is a literacy narrative and revisiting my old English teacher reminded me of the sincerity of the words I have typed.

Where I Wander
            Growing up, I never had much confidence. I was a kid who had self-image issues before I hit puberty and didn’t feel confident in my voice. My voice was quiet and that was often a subject of criticism by my peers and my family. This just made my voice grow smaller and eventually melt away like the soft white snow of winter melting in the torrid flames of summer. I had forgotten what I sounded like. My life seemed to lose color as more criticism and antagonists fell upon my story. I had forgotten how to write my story; how to continue it. Often times I debated continuing it at all; it simply felt much easier to end my story in the short, abrupt way typical of most tragedies. Then, two magnificent masters of the written word crept into my life and showed me what it meant to be heard and to create. From these two key figures in my life I gained two key perspectives that nurtured my creativity until it flourished.
            Witlessly wandering in the white expanse devoid of the comfort of refracting light and joy, I walked. Echoing amidst the expanse of nothing, a single word joined and accompanied my wandering, “write”. As the words slowly flowed from my pen the white expanse subtly gained texture and form. The white nothingness became perfectly frigid white snow; simple creativity but something creative, all the same. This land was beautiful and simply made my wanderings more enjoyable; however, they were missing something. This new dream which I had, interestingly, awoken into felt wonderful but I didn’t know what had caused this new reality to come into my existence. Just a young boy, walking in an infinitely generating universe of imagination, I was astounded yet uninspired. Where was one to look for such inspiration to feed this rapidly expanding expanse? My childhood inspirations were faint or forgotten by now so where else was there? I stopped my wandering. I sat and looked down at the snow, appreciating something so small and unsure how to progress further.
            I lifted my head and found my awkward twelve-year-old self surrounded by tanned walls and a plethora of literature. Shy and self-conscious I sat in the back corner away from the terrifying monster that is the sixth grade student. Then came in the teacher of the class I was seated in. He was loud, whimsical and managed to distract me from my appearance for ninety minutes. His name was Mr. Whitt; to me he was my favorite teacher but today he’s the man of unmeasurable creativity whose amazing lands of creation left me dazzled and inspired. His class was a blur of structure and vocabulary with exciting flashes of creative writing mixed in. He taught me many things, many words, many important authorial choices that I could take as a writer; however, his most important lesson was my inspiration.
            The first prompt he gave us to write quickly about was: “Name something you’re happy is in your life.” The impish inkling that came into my mind was “Nintendo”. “How stupid!” and “How simple!” I thought to myself as I begrudgingly put down my pencil. As I lowered my head to dive back into my lonely world of frost an illuminating sentence bore down upon my anxious existence. As Mr. Whitt called upon me to read what I had written for the class I raised my terrified head and meekly read aloud, “I chose Nintendo because it has inspired me to draw and write.” Almost in a practiced motion I fell into my chair, careful not to pull more attention to myself, the strange new kid. His response was simple, he thanked me for reading aloud what I had written and he said that he enjoyed how personal I was with my answer. As I smiled slightly and looked down, I felt pride for the world that I was creating with simple writing. He showed me that I was my inspiration. That the things I felt self-conscious about were actually things to be proud of. I still wasn’t confident in myself; however, my confidence in the strength and creativity of my mind flourished making me confident in my writing.
            As I wandered I kept Mr. Whitt’s words at the forefront of my subconscious as I continued to create. Beautiful pines were grown out of my words in the snowy expanse. The joyous colors of emotion and creativity gave life to the landscape. At the utterance of a sentence I created settings of limitless potential to wander through. I created characters that not only accompanied me but also allowed me to create tales of epic proportions when I needed to escape from my own story. My barren landscape of snow and frigidity had finally blossomed into a world of every type of feeling; I could create something warm and welcoming or I could create something sad and beautiful. I could create a love story depicting two sweethearts growing and falling in love or I could create the story of the mighty hero, slaying the dragon and saving the land. My possibilities were no longer limited by my lack of inspiration. The moment Mr. Whitt said he had enjoyed what I had written, I became confident and inspired.
            However, as I aged my beautifully expansive expanse began to feel shallow and small; I felt it begin to die. Once again, I stopped my wandering and sat in my expanse appreciating what I had created. Again, as I looked up I found myself in a classroom, with walls of the similar pallor that schools tend to adopt. I was seventeen then and still quiet. My new English teacher was named Mrs. Rau. At the time, I was a junior in high school and had the pleasure of having her as a teacher the previous two years. Regrettably, I couldn’t be bothered to pay much attention as I was much too concerned with the world inside my own head. However, that regret was short lived because as I read the assigned literature more and more I learned something; they were explosions of knowledge, creativity and allusion. Mrs. Rau taught my class and myself how to analyze these marvelous creations and it wasn’t until recently that I realized how beneficial this was. Because of the rigorous drilling we did in class reading excerpts and analyzing them in depth I was able to learn what I meant to be an author. I learned to see the knowledge behind each idea that was being created, to see the creativity of the plot that was portrayed, and to appreciate the allusions used by authors to give their creations depth. Moreover, through our reading of Herman Melville’s Moby Dick in which the extensively poetic narrative voice of Ishmael left me aghast and showed me what I wanted my writing voice to become.  Mrs. Rau taught me not only to love literature and poetry, but also how to appreciate it. She showed me what I wanted to become; I knew after having those four years of English that I wanted to become an author who could create and inspire the same way I had been.

            These two teachers are who I have to thank for the writer that I’ve become today and will become in the future. Mr. Whitt showing me that creativity is limitless and I can be my own source of inspiration. Mrs. Rau for showing me that literature and authorial choices are beautiful and will make my writing the way I hear it in my mind. As I live in my expanse, I no longer wander. I move purposefully from one area to the next. Each piece of literature and poetry that I read creates an explosion of brilliant inspiration in my world. I have grown and now see the path that I must take to become the writer I want to be. 

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Existentialism!

If you read the title then I'm sure you already know what this is about. Yes, existentialism. Exciting right? Super.
Alright. So. This is my favorite philosophy. I do consider myself an existentialist because I have adapted this philosophy as a lifestyle and way of thinking upon my first reading of it. So let me take you to school.
Existentialism. What is it? It's a philosophical belief that existence precedes one's essence. Simple right? But what is essence? Essence is a Socratic idea that states that everyone and everything is defined and made unique and that "thing" or "one" by a certain characteristic. For example, take a shovel. If you were to take a shovel and change the handle or the blade, it'd still be a shovel; however, if you were to take away the blade of the shovel, it wouldn't be a shovel anymore. Thus, the essence of the shovel is the blade for, without the blade, it'd only be a stick. The existentialist therein asks what the difference between existence and essence is. According to the existentialist, one's own existence comes before the definition of what their essence is. No shit, right? Right. If one's own existence precedes the definition of one's essence, then there is no belief in fate or predestination. That's why I love this philosophy, because it allows freedom of growth. I can grow and shape my life how I please in order to find and define my essence. To me that's calming.
Now for some history. In the early nineteenth century, Soren Kierkegaard created a new philosophical principal called existentialism. Kierkegaard broke existentialism into two stages: the aesthetic and the ethical. The first stage is the aesthetic in which one tries satisfy one’s desires with the goal of realizing the need for something greater than physical pleasures. Moreover, the second stage is the ethical in which one tries to satisfy their life by living in a way one would believe to be ethical. In short, existentialism can be defined as a philosophical way of living in which one would decide their own path and morals based on what they learn to be true.  Later, in the twentieth century philosopher Jean Paul-Sartre elaborated that existentialism is when one exists before becoming influenced by other people, cultures or religions. 
Moreover, unlike Kierkegaard who was a devout Christian as well as an existentialist, Sartre was an atheist as well as an existentialist. Essentially, Sartre stated that existentialism is the idea that we exist before we are influenced. In his essay, “Existentialism is a Humanism” Sartre argues for existentialism against the religious perspective. Sartre states that “from the Christian side, we are reproached as people who deny the reality and seriousness of human affairs.” Essentially what Sartre is saying is that the existentialist is often critiqued because it appears they hold no value in life. On the contrary, Sartre states that the existentialist believes “that existence comes before essence – or, if you will, that we must begin from the subjective.” Because of this, the existentialist like Sartre approaches life believing we define our reason for existing without a predestined path. 
Fun right?

Saturday, December 17, 2016

Defining This Nonsense

I suppose it would be wrong of me to not explain my reasoning for the name of this blog. Let's look at the definition of "altschmerz" (its in the description of this blog). In short, its the idea that old pains and creators of weariness are ever present in one's life. In my personal experience, I have felt this. I have felt the droning pain of a pain that I assumed would become a constant in my life. The weight of this can be, and was, unbearable for me. It lead me down a path of anxiety and depression that pushed me into many things and kept me from living the life I wanted to live. So, how does one get out of that? Thus came the naming of this blog.
I wanted to show people my journey in order to help them. I wanted to show how I was able to escape this altschmerz in order to create a better life for myself. The new things I found alone helped me escape. I found philosophy and the written word of many authors. So, let's all find something new together as I had in order to life a happy life.

Friday, December 16, 2016

Hello, New Friends!

Hello, uh...internet. My name's David. I'm a  collegiate student studying computer science as well as a few other things. I aspire to learn more than I do anything else. I love to read poetry as well as books; my favorite book is Herman Melville's Moby Dick and my favorite poem is Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner". I tend to draw assorted doodles from time to time and they may make appearances on this blog. I read philosophy books and articles all the time and my favorite philosopher is Soren Kierkegaard. I consider myself an existentialist and a christian. Dammit. I apologize, I've gone on a tangent; my purpose here is to say "Welcome to and thank you for coming to my blog".
I'm hesitant to promise much but at this point I plan to post writings about the day, assorted philosophies, personal poems, short stories or whatever else gets into my head. I'd love to upload drawings but I can't promise much on that front. I'd also love to write amateur book reviews and share my findings in said novels. Anyways, I hope you all look forward to what I have to say and, again, thank you for clicking the link for my blog.