The cursor blinks on a blank page. Several moments of struggling pass, and then a silence sets in that calls for the curtain to rise, for the performance to start. The keys click and clack as ten determined digits beat at them like drums. His muse takes him by the hands and together they dance on these fading letters. Sometimes they step on each otherโ€™s toes, but the beat does not stop.
Continue reading “Writing.”





If they cut your harness, I hope that you still climb.
If they tie your watch’s hands, I trust you’ll find the time.
And if they throw stones, you must have strength enough to be kind.

Stay standing, because only the audience sits.
People can only put you in a cage
If you’re small enough to fit.


Finding Truth(s)

Finding Truth should not be easy. Anyone with a mouth or a pen needs only to pour the right words into our eyes and ears to make our hearts bleed. Emotions are not a product of reason; they can be provoked even before we sort fact from fiction, reports from rhetoric. A healthy cynicism can ward off naรฏvetรฉ, but it is a touch of optimism that affords us the open mind necessary to discover the Truth for ourselves. Instead of merely absorbing facts that have yet to be verified and yielding to emotions that have yet to be warranted, we can embark on a journey for truth. Through time and space, we can visit Truth’s many voices on the way to a destination. Maybe the Truth you arrive at will be different from that which I come to, but we’ll both find it in the same place: somewhere between two extreme opinions. Youโ€™ll know when youโ€™re there, because it’s an uncomfortable place to be.

The Perfect Person

The perfect person has no acne, blemishes or scars. He is the ideal weight, height and complexion. He is also a she. They can do anything on their own, even give birth. They do not need to eat or drink, so they never feel hungry or thirsty. For them, even breathing is an option.

They can walk, run, fly and be anywhere at any moment; they are never late. Their hair is always the right length and style; it doesn’t ever grow. They will never need a doctor. In fact, they’re immune to all disease because they also cannot die.

The perfect person can create from scratch, anything. They can even fix what’s broken, anything at all. They don’t suffer from doubt or indecision. They always know what they are doing. They do the right things and never make mistakes. Because of this they never learn; but then they already know it all. They know how and who they should be, where and when it’s appropriate. Everyone likes them, nobody hates them. All want to be them.

But the one thing that the perfect person can never be is real. Because no one is perfect, no one is even close. The perfect person does not exist. Instead what we have are people, not long for the world, with needs and limits, who depend on others to exist. We have the broken pieces of people who know nothing of this world. We have people who are knockoffs of perfection, whose sloppy stitching you can see at a glance. We have people who project standards of perfection onto others while their own cracks are showing. We have people who know they are not perfect, and hate themselves for it.

Perfect may sound better, but if everyone was perfect they’d be perfectly the same, perfectly predictable like a perfect math equation. So perfect is not human. It is imperfection that creates variety in us; it is what allows people to be different, unique, the people who they are. I am imperfect and you are imperfect. He is imperfect and she is imperfect. And despite appearances, all of them are imperfect too. But we are all who we are because we are not perfect, and for that reason we can always become better. Perfect is the best, and so perfect has a limit. Perfect cannot be better, because perfect does not grow.

Perfect person, if indeed you do exist then you have nothing but my pity. Being perfect you must be fragile, for do you understand what perfect means? It means living inside absolute terms of never, forever, always. One flaw, a single mistake, one exception would destroy you, perfect person. But us imperfect people can survive a little inconsistency because we have room enough to grow. And that one strength, which all imperfect people possess, I believe is worth every other weakness.