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.