"If I found a job, a project, an idea or a person that I wanted-I'd have to depend on the whole world. Everything has strings leading to everything else. We're all so tied together. We're all in a net, the net is waiting and we're all pushed into it by one single desire." - Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
And of course, this ties in with the first invention I would like to develop in this creation.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
On Inventing
http://nonobjectbook.com/
This will be the premise on which I build my ultimate project. Inventions created with no technological limits in mind, and with the potential of being created.
I wish to create a journal, if you will, of inventions of the mind much like this - but created from the ideals included in the books of many famous authors.
This is all I have time for right now, but please do take note of this website, and include any questions you may have on the project, the ideals included, or the Nonobject site.
Let it be most importantly noted that feedback is vital in the event of this blog. I must have feedback. If you have not done so already, please make sure to comment your thoughts on the below post.
Thank you for your continued support. I promise in time, this will begin to take shape.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
On Passion
In order to understand the mission of this project, you must first understand the nature of the person wishing to create it.
Every tool used in this piece, including artwork and beyond will be ultimate tools in defining this creation.
No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself. - John Steinbeck
On Passion
I have always known what it means to be a listener, and a friend to people. I have always known what it means to take interest in the things other people like - especially those people who are the most respected to you, and the most respecting to you. There is a difference, to me, in being there for someone and really being for someone. To me, it would seem that listening to everything a person has to say is the only way to understand the things that truly matter in the light of the realm of the person and the ideals they have always come to represent (this including even the smallest procedures a person takes to procure the love and care of you, yourself, and the other people they wish would do the same for them). Listening is different than caring, and it takes a good follow through and the proper actions to actually ensure that the ones around you know that they mean something.
Maybe I am just different, but I care in a way so independent of the ones around me, or so it seems. I watch every person I know and I study them. I listen to them, I read their writings, I look at their artwork, and I read their feelings. And I feel moved individually - I have lived this way since high school. Since I was old and mature enough to understand what it meant to be emotionally moved by something that had nothing to do with yourself. My peers have watched as I have moved in and out of depression for the people that never showed me the time of day, because they were feeling down, not because anything had happened to me. Because, for me, all things must be in harmony with each other before I can experience a personal euphoria. Until then, something is always imperfect. And while they are all imperfect, the feelings I feel are romantic feelings. I don't mean romance in the classical definition.
I mean romance in the term that literature scholars view it. Romance is an aesthetic beauty that can be represented in many different ways - this beauty moves me, and I begin to realize that human perfectability would force me to become the most depressed I have ever been. Pain is beautiful and so is struggle above all else, because at least it means that you feel some sort of passion completely removed from the sight of yourself.
Every tool used in this piece, including artwork and beyond will be ultimate tools in defining this creation.
No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself. - John Steinbeck
On Passion
I have always known what it means to be a listener, and a friend to people. I have always known what it means to take interest in the things other people like - especially those people who are the most respected to you, and the most respecting to you. There is a difference, to me, in being there for someone and really being for someone. To me, it would seem that listening to everything a person has to say is the only way to understand the things that truly matter in the light of the realm of the person and the ideals they have always come to represent (this including even the smallest procedures a person takes to procure the love and care of you, yourself, and the other people they wish would do the same for them). Listening is different than caring, and it takes a good follow through and the proper actions to actually ensure that the ones around you know that they mean something.
Maybe I am just different, but I care in a way so independent of the ones around me, or so it seems. I watch every person I know and I study them. I listen to them, I read their writings, I look at their artwork, and I read their feelings. And I feel moved individually - I have lived this way since high school. Since I was old and mature enough to understand what it meant to be emotionally moved by something that had nothing to do with yourself. My peers have watched as I have moved in and out of depression for the people that never showed me the time of day, because they were feeling down, not because anything had happened to me. Because, for me, all things must be in harmony with each other before I can experience a personal euphoria. Until then, something is always imperfect. And while they are all imperfect, the feelings I feel are romantic feelings. I don't mean romance in the classical definition.
I mean romance in the term that literature scholars view it. Romance is an aesthetic beauty that can be represented in many different ways - this beauty moves me, and I begin to realize that human perfectability would force me to become the most depressed I have ever been. Pain is beautiful and so is struggle above all else, because at least it means that you feel some sort of passion completely removed from the sight of yourself.
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