4:51 AM| Sundays.

At times when I should be actual dreaming, I’m hopelessly awake and day dreaming of creation.

I spend the hours past my bed time in a doe eyed dazed, trying to wrap my brain around the rarity and beyond a word for beauty of an idea from complete scratch.

That’s the dream.

Being the first conscious to think there should be light in a room. LIKE. . . the understanding of what doesn’t exist in the process of an original idea is both mind boggling and depressing. I can give you a million ideas on what to do with light in a room, but I couldn’t suggest it before existed.

My example may be able to be debunked, and chalked up to my personal lack of  knowledge in electricity and science, but I’m too almost tired to think of another. Bare with me. I dream of being the first conscious to think of manipulating electricity into light. Instead of the conscious who innovates  said creation into a flash light. Extremely rare ting! ( I’ve been around Jamaicans, as of late.) Doing what hasn’t been done, and thinking what hasn’t been thought.

Sometimes when I’m alone, this late, I mumbler utter gibberish while doing crazy body movements in an attempt to be completely original.

However, I fear that it might just be weird.

The Artificial City Of Names

Welcome to Atlanta, a city my non statistic knowing mind would call the fastest growing city in America creatively. Atlanta is saturated with young talent, and comes without the shade that Major cities such as New York and Los Angeles shoulder. Meaning the sun inside of us creators is free to shine, and be felt. It’s so many doors that await to be opened in the right direction, I just find them to be small in the grand scheme of the room, or in reality the world. Atlanta is scarily detrimental to true success, because it’s lack of shade provides so quickly, the one thing we as humans crave more than success. Atlanta provides a community of love. It provides an abundance of small doors that you can walk through and everyone on the other side knows your name, and more than less praise said name.  It is in humanity’s nature  to subconsciously believe that our true world is our city and surroundings, not Earth. This makes its so easy to get lost in a world that knows your name. I find that this is why we’re the solid foundation of one hit wonders, and of respected figures whom have never experienced true success economically and/or globally. It’s so hard to break through the ceiling of love, and the misleading goggles of you leaving a mark on the world. However  love doesn’t pay the bills, and Atlanta is not the world. I can’t speak for it’s promising future, but presently Atlanta is an artificial version of America’s longstanding creative meccas. True success (economic, and global)  tends to pass through, but often doesn’t stay. Where are the million dollar corporations that call Atlanta’s skyscrapers home? Why does some of Atlanta’s biggest names live modest lives? Why does word of mouth circulate 10x as much as actual currency?  Of course there’s money to be made, and there are more than few who break out and have a great a impact on the true world. I only write this because I find that it’s harder to grow under the false achievement of love and a name. We must stay as hungry as the nameless creators in New York. We must seek to touch those in Los Angeles. We must grow sincerely, and spend more the best of our time and money with those around us, so that the success that currently only passes through can be made infinite.

A Drunk Toast To The Best Kinds Of Plot Twists.

I’ve read that the best kind of love is one in which the soul is awakened. I am not in love, and I am unsure if it’s indeed my soul, but something endlessly divine has been awakened inside of me. It started when the best kind of friend (One in which you have to build a solid foundation of banter in order to avoid a considerable amount of maudlin conversations detailing how truly perfect they are in your eyes.) Confessed her feelings for me. Instantly I was 7 years old again, up way past my bedtime, and watching my first Sunrise. God has colored the entire sky perfectly, and I still couldn’t color inside the lines of a singular square I thought. I had never seen or appreciated such beauty before. I knew that I never wanted to miss another, and I vowed that I wouldn’t. I promised forever to something I didn’t know existed, wanted, and possibly even needed moments earlier.


You see, What I’m trying to say is that… this friend was everything Magical in what was my first Sunrise.

I became entranced with ideas, and possibilities that I didn’t know existed moments earlier. I saw forever in a world I had previously thought to be fleeting. I saw the everlasting beauty in everything that was her. I was effortlessly lost in the wave of newfound passion. I put a grim emphasis on the term wave because waves come and go in an ocean of forevers and foundations.

With that said, My 7 year old self,  was peacefully asleep, on time, and couldn’t even manage to capture the sunrise the very next morning.

As for my best kind of friend, maudlin conversations and thoughts of perfection possibilities quickly faded back to banter.

So here I stand with a shot filled with an ocean of Hennessy toasting to wishes of being her ocean of forevers.


SuperPower: Unlocked

-Inspired by the fact that I can’t believe the Clippers players still played after Donald Sterling’s comments.

We live in a generation where we riot on empty streets, and give “I have a dream” esque speeches on no higher platform than that of twitter. It’s scary how completely and utterly content we’ve come. Ironic is that complete credit for our current comforts, can be wholly attributed to our forefathers ability to be so actively discontent. I fear that a million man march will never happen again, and that one day I will tell my grandkids stories about how I was 1 of 1 million retweets that promised to help a great cause. God knows I hate those “RT to save a life” tweets that go around twitter, and I dislike myself for how frequently I’m online to catch them.

We live in a generation of once superheroes, who have truly forgotten how to use their powers. A generation where I’ve heard “One man can’t change the world”  whispered in the wind of the same great cities that have watched  such things happen. God remembers how much power he blessed us with, before technology and growth caused us to forget. We’ve grown so much, and have outgrown key elements of life that we were supposed maintain at the core of it all.

I fear that we live in a generation that will only allow itself to be furthered by technological advancements from here on out. We’ve given up the power in the music. We’ve given up the power in the voice. We’ve given up the power in the body. MLK walks around reincarnated in the body of a person with no social media, and consequently no following, nor voice, nor power. Malcolm X runs a “Indie” blog that this generation will never allow to be made mainstream.

How did this happen? When did it become “Indie” to have ideas that will push civilization forward, and mainstream to twerk on the standstill surface of intellectual destruction.

I fear I don’t know how to end this, I want to keep writing. I want to keep finding sentences that will click with you as an individual, but 3 people read my blog on a good day, and I’m just Shane Adams -1400 B.C. Bible Writer, 2014- Indie blogger,  writing words that should, but won’t change the world YET.


Fuck Now & Laters Candy

I’m questioning the exact moment that later becomes never. I’m wondering if there is even a “becomes”, or is later always some form of never. I’m struggling a balancing act between a line I feel should be thicker of determination and procrastination. “Why is it so thin in my life these days?” I tend to ask God in some form most 2014 nights. I’m able to fall asleep at night on the pure fact pillow that my self-admitted, miniscule, productivity is still  the most productivity that I see from those who surround me. The question “Who am I really surrounding myself with?” wakes me up midway through said sleep, and I continue my journey on a road that leads only to success, but I’m driving below the speed limit. I sometimes get out, and walk, do drugs, have meaningless pop culture talk, and watch movies with the hitchhikers and bystanders. I sometimes let the wrong people in the car with me. I never run out of gas, but I sometimes run out of energy to push down on the pedal. I’m scared that the promising fact that I’m on a road that only leads to bliss, has falsely comforted me into constantly saying “I’ll get there later.” I don’t want that later to become never. Behind all the metaphors what I am saying is that, I want to birth words that grow up to be sentences that the world needs, and I must fuck my word documents now, or never. 

My Theory On Life Today.

Growing up I always questioned everything. It wasn’t necessarily aloud, but in my head I’ve always found there to be a million questions being asked simultaneously. I’ve also always found that, contrary to logic, whatever that is, that there’s one answer to every question that I’ve ever asked, or has ever been asked in general. The answer is that it’s whatever I, or the individual wants it to be. It’s all popular opinion.

Having this idea as a power-hungry kid, I always hated the long lasting power of  the person who first decided the sky was blue. I never understood the power we as a species gave certain “Facts” that I knew was purely an opinion of another human like myself, that overtime grew to be a fact. I wish I could say I don’t care if I’m viewed as crazy, but I do, so allow me to elaborate. I do believe the sky is blue, but what I’m saying is that long ago there was an individual like you and I who decided the names of colors. With that said, If I want to say blue is now green, I  believe it’s 100 % acceptable. Blue is whatever I want it to be, just like it was for that individual many years before me.

This idea has also lead me to question all religious text, not God, but religious text. I never understand how people could lead a whole lifestyle scripted for them by another Individual. We’re all patrons at a restaurant, eating the same thing, and trying to find out the chef’s secret recipe. However we will never know, and in a world of never knowing the answers are endless, and completely subjective. I’ve always joked that I was going to write my own religious text; I’m not sure If I ever will, but  explaining my idea of life seems like a good starting point.

I think that life  was once a large landmass, that overtime has become an extremely thin island surrounded by an ocean of success and failure. Life’s island isn’t necessarily beautiful, but it’s beauty is unmatched. I find it to be unmatched because on this island is the only time we are who we truly are.

The phrase “You are who you are when no one looking.” is a top ten sentence of all time in my opinion. It holds extreme truth, but It’s rare that no one is looking. Even if we are alone, we judge ourselves for who we really are, and we reject it. However, when on life’s island no one is looking, not even ourselves, and the beauty of the true self, good or bad, is peerless.


In the past, I believe that finding ourselves on life’s island wasn’t remotely as rare as it is today, In fact it wasn’t an Island at all, and we  existed solely as our true selves. Today, most of us only spend 2-3 minutes in total on Life’s island in a lifetime if were lucky. Life has come to be defined by popular opinion. The kid from compton rejects  being a teacher. the closeted athlete rejects coming out.

Life has equally come to be defined as the sum of our successes, and failures, so we’re constantly losing ourselves in waves of the two.

The mission is finding success, it’s no longer finding ourselves. I am not totally against this, because I understand we must constantly adapt to grow. However, we must understand that there’s but a thin island, or line as they say, between success and failure. We must adapt by not solely seeking to find some form of success, but still our true selves as well. Because If we seek to find ourselves as well as success, we will never drift too far away from both in the waves of failure.


Find yourself, and success is only a step away.

My theory on life today.


Lost & Found.

I’ve never been this lost.

I’ve also never felt more in touch with reality. I’m in the middle of a struggle with the notion that I’ve never known my true self. What I think I am trying to say is that, I can’t tell If I’ve lost myself, or simply found my true self. All I know, is that I’m unhappy with myself either way. I’ve matured from a completely self involved being, to one that lives outside of the self. In this relocation I have realized that I’m different people around different people. I think I have known this for awhile subconsciously, but in my new found conscious-awareness a key question arises.

Which one is the real me?

For years I thought I always knew, but I’ve been different people with different people for so long, I wonder if they all are the real me.

Is it possible that I’m both DMX and Malcomn X? Is it possible that I’m both Andy Warhol and Andy Milanokis?  I don’t know the answers, and I’m almost sure I never did. I believe I’m very sane writing this, but as a reader I’m unsure if this sounds crazy.  I’m not sure if I’m sure about anything anymore.

This confusion of the self is scary, and is affecting my creativity. . . I think.  It’s either that or the profuse amount of marijuana I’ve introduced into my life as of late under the guise that It’s a creativity booster. I  don’t believe it is, at least not for me. Either way writing has never been this excruciatingly hard for me. My words have never felt more thoughtless, and once again I’m struggling with the idea of being lost or found. I don’t know If I’m losing a talent, or realizing it was never there.

I wish to find myself, and be that self, no matter who it is. I only hope  that I’m a beautiful soul, with the ability to make the world feel.

To Be Continued..

It’s now or never, not now or later.

Time flies like a fighter jet, and we must not allow our creativity and ambition to become passengers. There’s no round trips on time’s jet, and if we allow it, we could lose the best part of ourselves to it forever. If we allow it, it can be a non-stop flight to a world of your own creation, but a world in which things can not be changed.  It’s a world of nevers that were once I’ll do it laters. NOW IS THE TIME TO THRIVE.


My Parents.

I don’t have the typical parents, if such a thing still exists. Nothing is typical anymore, is it? Anyway for conversation sake, I don’t have the typical parents, nor the typical relationship with the two of them respectively.

I love my mom more of the two, and more of any other being the world has to offer. I’m unsure if this is completely noticeable, and I have certain moments of this ironic, uncertain, clarity where this thought saddens me. I hope she know this though. I hope she sees this through, the hanging up, the yelling, and all the other things one shouldn’t do to their mom, or the person they love most in this world. I pray in these moments that my love is so strong, and bright, that it shines through the cloud of bullshit I bring over the sun that is our relationship, and not perfect, but perfectly loving mother.

Where to get started with my dad? I’ve got a mixture of emotions towards him, but I don’t show any of them to their full extent, if that at all makes sense. I have anger, and I show him, but not to the full extent it deserves. I may cop an attitude, but I should be copping a pair of brass knuckles. (Not really, but the point is, I never really show him the complete level of my emotion.) I have love, but I can count on one hand the times I’ve told him I’ve loved him.  There are times when I wake up in a very nice apartment that he pays for completely, and I am able to write staring out my bedroom window & into the sun rising over the horizon. In these moments I want nothing, but to call and thank him endlessly, for allowing this to happen, but I don’t. Our relationship is built around playing it cool. It’s built around clever or smart ass, or moments of mutual respect. There’s rarely moments in between you know? Of complete genuine, and peeled back emotion, it’s all thought out on my end, I can’t speak for him. When those moments happen though, few feelings that I’ve felt in my young life can I describe as being better.  I don’t know why this is, or whether I even want it to change. I just find it interesting, the way I find that we as man kind decided that California is 3 hours behind Georgia because of the way the sun sets, and rises over there/here. That blows my mind, but I don’t care much if it changes or not.

I don’t have the typical relationship with my parents. I go months, sometimes years without seeing them. Some people can’t even fathom that I imagine. Sometimes I go months without even talking to them. My mom- via me creating a cloud over the sun that she…. mostly is.  My dad- via we just lose touch.. It isn’t natural for us to keep in touch if it’s not involving the necessaries.

It is important that I state that I  don’t want this at all to come off as sad. When you completely accept the things around you, I believe it also gives you complete control of them as well. In a sense of course, I am not saying you can change the world if you accept it, but in a sense that’s also completely what I’m saying.

My dad paves a road for me in which I am able to ride more smoothly to my dreams. My mom talks to me, and holds my hand the whole time I’m in the car on that road. I appreciate my not so typical parent puzzle, and find that it works for me.

As you two are reading this there may be parts that anger you respectively, but I’m fine with that, I just hope it makes you guys feel. With love, with thanks, with thought, with appreciation, I just want to say all that I’ve already said, and that I hope you feel something.

If I can change one thing, and I know that one day I will, I will have it so that there is  complete positive energy between the two. That is all. That is all my 21 year old self would change.

My Parents.