I am a thinker.

I am a thinker, not a talker. Everything I do isn’t done before being carefully analyzed. And analyzed again, and again. Every possible outcome or effect plays its scenario right before my eyes. In a matter of seconds, I imagine every possible reaction. From all of those responses I choose the one that is right for the moment, in my eyes.

In most cases this way of thinking improves my rational view on things. But when my own feeling plays a part, rational thinking seems like an upgrade I can’t afford. I can get so carried away in my feelings, that they become the new rational truth. To keep my head clear, I need to take a few steps back sometimes. I need to escape from the feelings, and judge a situation as it is, not how it feels.

I may just have made it sound easy, but is in fact far from easy. To find the balance between letting go of the feeling for only a moment and numbing yourself down completely is a difficult challenge. That is also why being able to letting go of the feelings is a dangerous skill to possess.

But like many life lessons, finding this balance will probably take a lifetime to master. So I will spend the rest of my life experiencing, learning and failing. And maybe one day, I will become the master of my own feelings.

Coffee, books, cigarettes and not a whole lotta sleep.

As some of you may know, I have some pretty important exams coming up next week. I have spent the past weeks studying (excuse my French) my ass off.
[French is one of my exams. Inside joke! Get it?]

I am trying to focus mainly on studying for those exams, causing in fewer updates here. Also replying to e-mails is on hold right now, which I truly feel kind of bad about. Please note that I have read all the e-mails I got, and marked them ‘Unread’ to reply right after my last exam.

As soon as I have taken my last exam I will make up for my hermit’s life, big time.
And that’s a promise.

Why use metaphors?

met·a·phor [met-uh-fawr, -fer]
noun
1. a figure of speech in which a term or phrase is applied to something to which it is not literally applicable in order to suggest a resemblance, as in “A mighty fortress is our God.”

2. something used, or regarded as being used, to represent something else; emblem; symbol.
Origin: 1525–35;  < Latin metaphora  < Greek metaphorá  a transfer, akin to metaphérein  to transfer.

Personally, I feel that using metaphors enriches your way of thinking. Not only do they make things easier to explain, they also adorn your vocal and textual expression. If you pay attention, you will find metaphors and imagery everywhere -and I do mean everywhere. To get you warmed up I’ve listed some of the most famous metaphors below.

‘’All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances.’’
- William Shakespeare.

‘’Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.’’
- Pablo Picasso.

‘’I am the good shepherd, …and I lay down my life for the sheep.’’
- The Bible, John 10:14-15.

‘’All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree.’’
- Albert Einstein.

‘’Chaos is a friend of mine.’’
- Bob Dylan.

The use of metaphors has an artistic touch to it; you are drawing a sketch of your words. You are trying to make someone visualize what you are saying. Metaphors are used to encourage the reader to draw a comparison between two seemingly unrelated things, and find similarities between them. For example, the phrase “My garden is an oasis” does not literally mean it is an oasis, but suggests that it has similar qualities – that it is peaceful, or a refuge within a hostile environment.

So now we know what metaphors are and how they are used, but why would you use them? Well, they might get you a better grade in English class. But besides that, there are more things to consider. They can be funny, and they focus your reader’s attention on a specific detail. Since story writing is all about choosing details that count, metaphors and similes make your writing come alive. Stimulating your reader’s brain to create an image with your writing will help them understand and it will keep them focused (or at least keep them from falling asleep).

Why do we dream?

Dreams, probably the thing that comes closest to an unreal reality our human brains can make up. They can be extremely funny and absurd or really scary and frightening. No matter what we dream about, the feeling we get during a dream can be ridiculously realistic. I remember waking up one day after having a dream about loads of money. I had to check my wallet first, to find that it was really only just a dream. Before we can even try to figure out what our dreams mean, we should take a look at where dreams come from.

Dreams have been around for a very long time and they haven’t stopped amaze people ever since. Where-ever someone dreams, there was someone who (thought he) could explain the deeper meaning of it. That is, the symbolic or metaphoric meaning of the dream. These findings throughout the centuries have been documented and are now for sale as the so called ‘Dream Books’. I don’t know what to believe of those things, but it is certainly fun to see how they would explain your dream. Take a walk on the wild side, buy one of those books. Who knows you might find your ‘true inner self’, and what not.

Now, science. Dreaming and dreams are tricky phenomenons to investigate, so the result are still very limited. Dreams are still as much of a mystery as yawning, for example. Though, there have been some experiments with amazing, evident results. For example, a group of test-subjects was instructed to play an interactive video-game for over a month, while being completely sealed from the outside world.

During the day, these test-subjects would play a skiing game, where they stood on real skis that measured their every movement and transferred it to the screen in front of them. Compare it to a Wii game. The game was made very basic on purpose. No coins, no power-ups, no crowd and no distractions. Just a hill of snow, a timer and a finish line.

During the night, the test-subjects would be wired and monitored. When a subject would enter a dream (yes, they can see when you start dreaming) he would shortly after be woken up and asked what their dream was about. After the first week of the experiments there weren’t much results that made any sense. But right around the second week, some of the subjects reported have a dream about the video-game. Nothing interesting, you might think. But the subjects that dreamed about playing the video-game, started getting far better results than before they had those dreams. Did scientists finally crack the code? Or was it random luck, coincidence or even fraud?

I still don’t know what to think of it, but the idea that our mind confronts us with problems we might get to face one day, is a beautiful one. This would mean that, subconsciously, our dreams are training us. That’s amazing, right?

The best thing about this all? We will never know whether a dream did or did not prepare us. But when you go to bed tonight, think about it. Think about things you are struggling with at the moment and maybe, just maybe, you will wake up, unknowingly heavily trained and subconsciously ready to face your problem.

Running.

Nike Air Max.
Sweatpants.
T-shirt.
Headphones.
Those are all the ingredients I need for an intense, soothing run.

Press play for an extraordinary reading experience!

I close the door behind me. I walk away, no keys in my pocket. All they do is bother me and limit my movement. I inhale, the recent rain on the ground has caused a fresh, cool air. Perfect.

Retro City [LOUDPVCK Remix] starts playing its intro (seriously, for your own sake, press play when you read this, you won’t regret it.). I fasten my pace, I steady my breathing and I feel the adrenaline slowly flowing around in my body.

The song is reaching its climax, I feel the adrenaline rushing through my whole body now. It’s crawling underneath my skin, itching, aching, dying to be freed. My heart starts beating faster, but my breathing is still steady and deep. I fasten my pace even more, waiting for the bass to drop. The climax keeps on building, keeps on getting louder. And suddenly, silence.

WOW.

I run. With twice the tempo of the song I drop my body-weight on my feet, one after the other. The adrenaline has now taken over completely. I run without thinking, without goals and without limits. Fresh air travels deep inside of my lungs as my breathing gets heavier.

I keep on running until I am absolutely exhausted. My breathing is uncontrollably deep, my muscles are tired. My body is drained, but my mind is clear, empty and sharp. You gotta love a good run.

The drawing of life.

The pencil sketches the rough outline of my life. The graphite lines on the white paper make for a high contrast. The edges of the paper limit my world, but the glue attaches another for me to sketch on. There is more than enough room for mistakes, but when my eraser fades away the lines there will always be a stain to remind me of what went wrong. When a part of the sketch is done, the ink of a ballpoint pen eternizes it, to be remembered forever.

This work of art will never be complete, and that’s the beauty of it.

Dig deep.

Everywhere I look I see sand, I feel it moving underneath my feet with every step I take. The sun is shining bright and sends a comfortable warmth through my body. I feel the sudden urge to dig, to dig deep down through the vast landscape of sand.

With my bare hands I start moving sand away from the small crater I created. The sand on the surface feels warm in my hands. The grains of sand shimmer in the sunlight, like stars in the sky. As I make progress I encounter the more solid crust of sand, covering this part of the earth. I feel the urge to dig even faster, and instead of placing heaps of sand away from the center I now start throwing hands full of sand away. After a while I notice a drop of sweat, dripping from my forehead. I wipe it off with my wrist and I continue digging, even faster than before. The hole is now deep enough for me to stand in, but it is not enough. I dig, I dig like crazy, without taking a breath and without looking back.

Vague memories of frustration flow into my head, filling me with anger. But it’s okay, these memories are the fuel raising the fire inside. As the flame reaches heights I haven’t felt before, the anger has been replaced by motivation.

All this time I haven’t stopped digging, I look around. I am surrounded by massive walls of sand, I dug myself in. Sunshine pours in from above me. I have moved all these grains of sand, without even noticing them. Without noticing their beauty, their structure, their place in this world.

I close my eyes for what seems an eternity, when I open the them again, suddenly I’m back on the surface, where I started. In my hand is the first heap of sand I am about to move. I stop, I open my hand and I let the grains of sand slowly fall back to where they belong. I stand up and I walk, along the vast landscape of sand, while appreciating every single grain of sand I see.