Epic Mofo.

I am suuuuuuch an epic mofo. Like, honestly. I'm not even being sarcastic, either. Just now I was looking up some of my earlier files from when I first got Pancho (my Macbook Pro), out of boredom. I was supposed to go watch Tangled at a friend's house, but those plans died horribly, so I needed to keep my attention occupied.

Yeah so. I found this file. And it really blew me away. I surprise myself. All. The. Time.

Here goes:


"I find myself falling more and more into the insatiable, undying disease of wanderlust. I need to explore the world. I need to find myself in my roots by leaving those whom I know, and that which I live. I need to drive endlessly with myself, and get a taste for some small dosage of the world, if only a short drive up north California. More and more inspires me for this travel - this new freedom that is adulthood. Dr. Seuss said “Adults are obsolete children.” This is true for some cases, however I find myself falling more into the “absolute” child stage. I feel that I will forever be “me” - Shalica Mariee M. Riley. Five foot, one-and-one-half inch. Dark brown hair with the amazing bang flip. Full cheeks with a shiny white grin, and happy dark brown, essentially almost black, eyes. I will retain my love for skinny jeans, brushing my hair when I probably shouldn’t, smirking at a witty (or not so witty) joke, and thinking that I’m clever. I will keep my expressions, I will stay “cute”, I won’t change. 


I know who I am, so I know that if I leave, I’ll forever know where I was from, who made me, who formed me - my malleable self - and how I was produced into the person I am now, and who I will be. I want to walk the concrete jungles of New York scope out the Empire State Building, I want to listen to legitimate country music in Nashville, Tennessee. Hum along to the jazz of Harlem, blink in awe at the voodoo of New Orleans. I want to sail the seas along Baja California, walk the grade up to Mount Fuji - learn kendo and make a garden of sand and tranquility. Grow a bonsai tree, live forever if not in the physical form, but the spiritual form. I want to attend classes and seminars in San Jose State University, buy a Volkswagen bus - old hippy status, no doubt - and drive endlessly.

Knowledge paves the way of life, but knowledge doesn’t mean you have experience. Experience is gained when one is witness to a consequence - either good or bad. Humans are slaves to emotion - emotion causes consequence. With experience you gain knowledge, and a new wisdom for the world.

Despite what some may disagree, I believe that life is fantastic. As well, I can honestly say that I am wholly afraid of dying. I can’t comprehend how terrified I am of leaving this earth, and all its beauty. Why were we made and set into such a big world just to leave it at some time? I don’t know when I will pass on. I don’t know when any of my friends will pass on (oh God, I pray it’s of old age - I don’t think I could take any of my friends passing on at this age). There is just so much to do, and there is just so much I can do, and so much I can’t. This shouldn’t even be considered a blog post, if I ever decide to upload it. This is my thoughts, my journal, my diary. I don’t care what others say - this is me in written form. I cannot enunciate, nor pronounce any better than in writing. I cannot say what I want vocally without sounding like a complete moron. I hold contempt for myself at times. I wish I was smarter. You can call me smart through writing, but I will hold it in low esteem - this is not genius. This is me.

Even a genius is just a normal person.

Thus so, I am wanderlust. My mind travels where my feet cannot. It’s a charming thing, this idea, this vicarious sense. You can call me deep, you can call my shallow, you can even call me stupid, moronic, or even vain. I’m as vain as I allow - you don’t own me, you cannot comprehend the convictions of my mind. You cannot break into my skull and steal my thoughts because they are solely mine, and that I love, I shall not part with. 

And thus the contradiction occurs. “And that I love, I shall not part with”. I am a liar, yet I speak the truth. This falls back to where I am at personally, and spiritually. I want to leave this place, my “home”. Yet, I will always stay. This is my place. It cannot be taken from me. I’m a writer, and artist, I sketch with pen and I paint with, well, paint. You can beat me and throw me in a gutter, rape all that I am with all that you are, and I will never be broken. I want to believe this - and I am sure I do - but doubt always flutters around the air.

You know, maybe I should write an autobiography, or like, a memoir. I’ve started a few times, but I never got a hold of it. I never grasped what it truly means to write about yourself, and the personal evolution that comes along with regaining lost memories, and reliving the past. I’ve written essays of personal experiences that have changed me, but...did I really understand them? Maybe I did...maybe I forgot. Doubt. A great emotion, because it makes you “doublethink” things. It makes you reevaluate how you act, and why you act the way you do.

Sure, I sound stupid when I talk (or speak, whichever floats your boat). But who doesn’t? Who doesn’t make that occasional slur of the tongue, where all consonants and vowels fail at making sense, and become such unintelligible jargon that you can’t help but throw a hand over your eyes in shame?"

Yo, so that's all I have. And it's kinda funny too since my thoughts have changed sooooo much since then. Like, the document was written months ago. Since then my thoughts on dying has changed, I don't really want to leave hella far away anymore (though exploring the world is definitely still there). It's amazing because my writing is so...intense. Epic. "Sophisticated" and stuff. I should write philosophy textbooks or something, cuz I kinda sorta own face.

Yeah well anyway, that's mah post. Yes there are typos, but I'd like to preserve the richness of it all by not fixing them.