Why do I enjoy the things that I do? It cannot all be chance. The chance of it all being chance is just silly. Laughing to myself while I compose the thought from hundreds of shards, I understand a little something. Those somethings follow:
I wouldn't be as into giant robots as I am should I not have seen a manual when I was younger. I wouldn't be as into mythology and comic books had I not seen so many when I was younger. I would not be in to so many technical diagrams had I not been presented them when I was younger and I'm not talking about diagrams of machines as much as human bodies.
I probably could have avoided getting beaten as often as I did if I didn't dive into diagrams of the naked form as were provided. Which is kind of hilarious because I wouldn't be as good as I am at seeing them for the bones they are now if I hadn't seen them when I was a small fry.
I cannot help laughing, explaining it now. "Why do these things occupy so much of your head's space?" I don't know. I'm sure parts of it are generated within myself. Absolutely. Why can I not look at someones face and see the wires beneath it? The bones and structure and frame it in a comic books frame or a films sketch board? How come I cannot turn that off?
For the same reason that I cannot approach someone without thinking about and forecasting how to defend myself. "You have to learn how to fight!"
These are questions only your parent can answer.
I've been refused answers.
Wiping saliva from my computer screen, it is true. That is part of why I laugh hysterically.
The greatest complement, I've heard, is emulation. Copying. That is also what I've been taught. How do you learn? By emulating. How do you create? Learn the rules and then you can make whatever you want to. OR. You can feel an audience and play to a crowd. OR. You can do what appears to be reasonable and go from there as long as no one dies in the gears of your operation. As long as no one gets hurt. There are many rules.
I am sad. I am thorough. I am skattered. I am some original parts and some parts straight from the manufacturer. I am not thrilled.
The manufacturer insisted. I argued. The manufacturer insisted.
I do wonder, if he had it to do over again, would he. That question will never be answered.
So I draw and I build and I create and I war and sometimes I scuffle and I hold grudges and I love forever and I hate and I draw, I build, I design, and model, and color, and I never quite know exactly why. I don't know if I'm the best version of myself or if I will never know the answer that I expect to go hand in hand with that question.
Every few days out of a month it enrages me.
I cannot force him to speak on his behalf, as he many times made me do. I wish that on no one. By that rule, I do not wish that on him. The best I can do is detective work and let him know, unless he is willing to open up the book of death, he has no place in my world.
I wasn't asking for my abusive father for an apology. All I was asking for was accountability, being old enough to talk to him person to person.
I got stonewalled. And that's that.
Nothing more to do except continue to build my own life, evolve one baby step at a time, and continue to try my damnedest to forget about him and hope he dies sooner than later. For now that's the best we can do.
///Mos Def - "Umi Says"
Most definitely.
I wouldn't be as into giant robots as I am should I not have seen a manual when I was younger. I wouldn't be as into mythology and comic books had I not seen so many when I was younger. I would not be in to so many technical diagrams had I not been presented them when I was younger and I'm not talking about diagrams of machines as much as human bodies.
I probably could have avoided getting beaten as often as I did if I didn't dive into diagrams of the naked form as were provided. Which is kind of hilarious because I wouldn't be as good as I am at seeing them for the bones they are now if I hadn't seen them when I was a small fry.
I cannot help laughing, explaining it now. "Why do these things occupy so much of your head's space?" I don't know. I'm sure parts of it are generated within myself. Absolutely. Why can I not look at someones face and see the wires beneath it? The bones and structure and frame it in a comic books frame or a films sketch board? How come I cannot turn that off?
For the same reason that I cannot approach someone without thinking about and forecasting how to defend myself. "You have to learn how to fight!"
These are questions only your parent can answer.
I've been refused answers.
Wiping saliva from my computer screen, it is true. That is part of why I laugh hysterically.
The greatest complement, I've heard, is emulation. Copying. That is also what I've been taught. How do you learn? By emulating. How do you create? Learn the rules and then you can make whatever you want to. OR. You can feel an audience and play to a crowd. OR. You can do what appears to be reasonable and go from there as long as no one dies in the gears of your operation. As long as no one gets hurt. There are many rules.
I am sad. I am thorough. I am skattered. I am some original parts and some parts straight from the manufacturer. I am not thrilled.
The manufacturer insisted. I argued. The manufacturer insisted.
I do wonder, if he had it to do over again, would he. That question will never be answered.
So I draw and I build and I create and I war and sometimes I scuffle and I hold grudges and I love forever and I hate and I draw, I build, I design, and model, and color, and I never quite know exactly why. I don't know if I'm the best version of myself or if I will never know the answer that I expect to go hand in hand with that question.
Every few days out of a month it enrages me.
I cannot force him to speak on his behalf, as he many times made me do. I wish that on no one. By that rule, I do not wish that on him. The best I can do is detective work and let him know, unless he is willing to open up the book of death, he has no place in my world.
I wasn't asking for my abusive father for an apology. All I was asking for was accountability, being old enough to talk to him person to person.
I got stonewalled. And that's that.
Nothing more to do except continue to build my own life, evolve one baby step at a time, and continue to try my damnedest to forget about him and hope he dies sooner than later. For now that's the best we can do.
///Mos Def - "Umi Says"
Most definitely.
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