Bored of Existence

Idea by: Nikos Koufus

Written by: Scott McAllknowingandpowerful

brown ganesha figurine
Photo by Artem Bali on Pexels.com

I find it interesting. The first thing that my creations did was develop time. Even the very first ones knew about time before they discovered time.

I have never had the privilege of feeling time. For me, nothing ages: It just changes. The grass that grows. The creations that evolve. The planets that harbor life and destroy it just as quickly.

Time is just a concept. I have no need for concepts.

The most interesting thing that they always do is create religion. I knew it would happen, but it still amuses me. There are many different religions. They are all so wrong.

Why would they assume that I value them? It is laughably arrogant. They worship me. They think I will help them; save them. They are blind by hope. When they get sick, they pray to me. Ha! I am the one who made them sick in the first place. I should have made a smarter species.

I am so bored. I do not know why I continue to create. It is such a waste of “time”. I cannot share it. I cannot admire it. When I try to design something new, I already know what it will do. Not only do I know, I have already witnessed it before. An infinite number of times, with an infinite number of different combinations.

There is one thing that religions always get right. I am all knowing. What is the point in being all knowing if it is always the same; never a surprise.

I have tried to surprise myself. I have tried to create super beings and I have communicated with them. But I developed their body. Their mind. Their consciousness. What they create, I created. It is so boring.

Maybe I will change them again. I did once before on this very planet. In this very universe. The only choices that I have are from my own thoughts. It gets so repetitive.

I could make another god – but I know that ends. There can only be one. That is how I was created. I do not think I am ready for that.

It is odd. The one thing that I do not have the power to do is simply stop existing. How ironic is that? The all-knowing god cannot find out how to stop existing.

Why am I even thinking that? I am being ridiculous… Right? I can do anything that I please without fear of failure. Any one of my creations would love that privilege. But would only need to tolerate it for a set period of “time”.

I could make… No. I have already done that. I could change something: The laws of physics maybe. But I have already done that before too. It just creates instability in the universe. Then I start again. I am so bored.

What could the new god be? If it is less powerful than I, then it is just another predictable creation; a demi-god of sorts. If it is equal strength, then there is no point. We will be identical. If it is stronger then I vanish immediately. They would have full control. I certainly did.

If the stronger appears, my creations disappear. But that does not matter. With the infinite knowledge and options, the exact creation will be designed again.

I am simply another past god’s creation. I am nothing special. I will vanish as quickly as my creations. Even as a god, I feel just as insignificant as anything else.

Which is why I have decided to create another god. A better god. A god that will take the burden of existence and pass it to another after an infinite amount of “time”. A god that will allow me to forget my boredom. But in the end, they will just be another creation.

Glass River

Scott McDrifting

body of water between green leaf trees
Photo by Ian Turnell on Pexels.com

The river was calm, no ripples, sailors or storms. Finding it was serendipitous. I stumbled into it with no intention of getting in, but then I was in a boat, drifting down the coastline with no way of knowing how fast or slow I was moving.

The water looks like glass with no reflection. When I dip my hands in the water, I can feel movement but the surface holds on as if nothing entered or exited. The sun is nowhere to be seen. Temperature doesn’t touch me. It could be blistering or icy, but I can’t feel it. All I can feel is the water when I choose to touch it, but it never seems to touch me. I feel like I’m raping the serene surface, taking its purity and virginity away.

The boat confuses me. It has a sail, yet no paddle. There is no breeze but we’re moving, and the sail seems to hold air. There is no trail behind me. The water becomes calmer with each passing moment; something I didn’t think possible.

I’m being shipped around with no way of knowing where I will end up or when I will end up there. With each passing moment, whatever was behind me disappears further. I’ve never seen back farther than I am right now. I don’t miss where I was, but I know that it’s over. I will not cherish the journey or regret the trip. All I can do now is be carried away by this odd, uncontrollable and unexplainable river in a boat that I don’t remember getting into but was forced into nonetheless.

Free Time

I am often caught off guard by people that only critique and don’t create on their own. When I watch a movie or show, read a book or play a video game, I always leave wondering what I could have done differently and potentially even better. I want to create a world that people can explore on their own. I want to create a world that I want to be a part of, instead of imagining that I’m part of someone else’s baby.

Scott McHappyThanksgiving

Oh, how I used to long for the days where I had nothing to do. I loved sitting around and dedicating my focus to useless things that can only be described as a waste of time. It was one of the only things that allowed me to truly enjoy the time that I had to myself, perfectly content with the lack of action.

Now when I sit down with nothing to do, I know that I am wasting my time. Why should I be doing nothing when instead I could be creating something that either myself or another can enjoy? I don’t count any of my time as free because I always have another project to focus on: one that is more fulfilling and potentially productive to the world.

analog clock sketch in black surface
Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on Pexels.com

Why do you think I am writing this? It’s not because I was assigned this task by a classroom or an employer. It is because creation and imagination are a gateway to a world that most people forget as they grow up. This world, full of endless possibilities that nothing but time can limit.

If I must choose between only enjoying other people’s creations or making my own, but no one will ever see them, I will choose the latter. Sure, I would never see some of the groundbreaking pieces of entertainment that have been created, but that’s okay. Creating something will always be more rewarding.

Whenever you hear an amazing song or watch an amazing film or see an amazing piece of architecture, I hope you’re filled with inspiration to make something great, instead of admiring it and leaving it behind.

Wanderlust

This is something little that I made while experimenting with sonnets. It’s really just a whimsical look at the world from the eyes of a child who hopes that life is as exciting and amazing as every book says it is. You and I both know it’s not, but it’s still something.

Scott McSonnet

Stories and sonnets as far as the eye can see.

Young and impressionable, waiting for what the world can offer me.

gray dragon statue
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’ve heard of knights and dragons and treasure.

I’ve heard about large kingdoms and their lure.

 

I can’t wait to go on my own adventure

For when I can leave all I know behind and begin a new venture.

 

I will climb mountains of snow

And scale canyons so low.

 

I will finally touch the clouds,

What my feet have never aloud.

 

If I could see all of the creatures in the ocean,

Maybe even ride the waves above them and admire their commotion.

 

I could try to hunt down a dragon who has captured a princess,

Finding my own damsel in distress.

 

What if I could find a way to shoot magic from my hands,

Or travel to uncharted lands.

 

Why stop there when I know there is much more to behold.

I could travel to different dimensions or outer space, no matter how cold.

 

What I wouldn’t give for the chance to live out these fantasies,

The horizon is so promising, there’s so much to see.

 

The world has so much promise.

I can’t wait to see if it’s as exciting as the stories and sonnets.

All the Money in the World

I strongly believe that if I won the lottery, I would be disappointed. I don’t want free money. There’s no value there. I want to work hard and earn it all myself. I don’t have rich tastes so I wouldn’t spend it anyway so why does it matter?

Scott McFrugal

If I had all of the money in the world…

I would buy my dream house.

I would own my favorite car.

I would never work another day of my life.

I would not need to worry about my well-being.

I would be happy.

But, if I had all of the money in the world…

Would I have any ambition?

Would I value my relationships?

Would I find purpose in what I do?

Would I enjoy what I spent it on?

Would I truly find anything but emptiness?

If I could have all of the money in the world…

Would I want it?

full frame shot of eye
Photo by Vladislav Reshetnyak on Pexels.com

Nothing Makes Sense Except for a Dollar

“Reading this one gave me a pretty good understanding of what it feels like to have a stroke.” – Kyle

Scott McShouldn’titbespelledcents

Do you hear the sounds? The way the orchestra plays in the back of your mind is like a train smashing into the side of your car. The way the notes tickle your inner ear, making you dizzy to the point of nausea. It’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t figure out what.

The piano is thumping, and the keys of the drums are ringing. I can hear the way that the bass drum thuds on the strings. My violin sounds like a flute and the trumpet sounds like an oboe. I don’t know what it means but the confusion feels like ecstasy. The way the dancers sing, and the choirs slide around the ballroom. It all makes sense but it’s all so wrong.

feet legs animal farm
Photo by Gratisography on Pexels.com

Climb to see higher and understand the room. The room is on fire, but the furnace is an icebox. The freezer is a chair and the meats are on the sofa. People are ablaze, but the pool is full of snow. The oil below is lit but water spews like a geyser. The trombonist is in a bathrobe while the Tibetan monk is in the shower. Nothing makes sense except for a dollar, but my wallet is full of kittens, not currency.

The meat stands from the sofas and dances with the monks. The steps keep going on and on, ever reaching and fruitful. The banister’s are carrots and the stairs are hermit crabs. The room is confusing and the writing on the walls is moving like ants. The words move to spell out what you’re thinking, but you don’t understand your own thoughts. The bass drum play’s Clare de Lune and the piano plays a jazzy hi-hat.

The stairs disappear but they still exist. Nothing is true, but all is accurate. I step higher until the beauty rips me down from my pedestal. I am the flower while the petals are the confused. They fall one at a time. They love me. They love me not. They love me. They love me not. They love me. The money in my wallet purrs like a jet plane’s engine and the kittens play with the dancing choirs which were nothing but yarn.

Produce Section

Picking tomatoes can be so hard.

Scott McTomatoesallthewaydown

The best tomatoes have already been chosen. How many people have picked up this very one, looked at it, squeezed it and put it back, covering it with their own brand of infectious diseases and nastiness. I had the same problem with the blackberries. Every pack had at least a little bit of mold inside. The last thing that I want to worry about is getting fresh produce at the grocery store after I’ve worked all fucking week.

I’m hardly making enough money to live in an apartment, pay for gas and make a dent in my student loans before the interest shovels another few pounds of dirt over my cheaply made coffin. My headstone will read “still trying to make enough money to justify college”. The wheel keeps squeaking on this stupid cart. I work all week and I’m not even rewarded with an easy shopping experience. It’s tedious, boring, redundant and redundant.

two red tomatoes on white surface
Photo by Luka Siemionov on Pexels.com

The tomatoes that I get will probably spoil before I can use them. I made a list of meals for the week, but I’d be lying to myself if I told you that I’m going to make them all. I’ll make exactly what I need to, no more and no less, and when I can’t do that, I’ll eat some Fruity Pebbles. Think of the journey that this tomato had to take for me to pick it up, buy it and inevitably throw it away. A farmer had to buy the seeds, plant and grow the tomatoes, wait for however long it takes for tomatoes to grow and then sell them to Giant Eagle. The whole process is probably no less than a month, and I’m going to buy it just to throw it away.

Does the farmer hate me? Do they just enjoy the simplicity of living a life off the land where they work eighteen hours in a day, but don’t listen to anyone but themselves, and that’s why they farm? Do they secretly resent people who eat their product without ever learning how to grow it themselves? I’m fucking useless in the grand scheme of things. I can’t even grow a tomato. If the world broke into anarchy and food stopped being subsidized, I’d be screwed. I can’t even pick a tomato off of the shelf, let alone survive off the land.

If the world broke down that much, who’s to say that I wouldn’t be the guy that grabbed a gun and stormed some poor farmer’s land and stole stuff while they slept. If it broke down that much, I’d be the good guy for doing that considering how many people would Clockwork Orange the farmer and his wife. I’d just be stealing food while other people would be raping and pillaging just for fun. I don’t think I could ever rape someone, even if the world changed that much, but I can’t say for sure. I don’t think I’m the kind of person that would gas a Jew, but Milgram has proven that to be unlikely. Maybe in a different world, I’d be a degenerate rapist, murderer and maybe even a cannibal. I’m sure I’d do it alone too. I don’t think I’d want to spread the wealth with anyone else. I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone in an anarchist world. I wouldn’t even trust myself.

board close up cooking delicious
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

With no order, the world would be a mess. Right? Well, society has formed from thousands of years of development, and we decided to make a hierarchal system of governing and existing. Is that due to a few people who have lost sight of the greater purpose and their consciousness and created a dictatorship, which was eventually leveled out by the people under it, or is that what people have either subconsciously or consciously chosen? Maybe the more active and conscientious people rise to the top while the complacent and lazy fall to the bottom of the hierarchal foundation. That doesn’t explain today’s world though because of how many hard-working people there are at the bottom end of the class structure that we have. They might only be there through systematic classism, but it could also be because humans can’t function in a way where equality and functionality work the same way.

That could be why communism didn’t work. It’s not that people aren’t capable of working for an equal reimbursement and purpose, but maybe humanity just can’t function without people who give orders and people who take orders. There always needs to be someone telling someone something, and those who are anti-authority are in a constant struggle to get to the top until they are met with odds that are so stacked against them that they stop trying to rise to the top or they make it to a place that they feel comfortable with because in their own mind, they’re in control.

Although gravity is the reason that if I pull a tomato from the bottom of the pyramid they all fall, maybe there is this kind of… weird societal gravity where it’s a constant race to the bottom unless you’re putting in more work than those next to you. If you think of how small we all are in the physical universe, then think of how we stand in a societal structure that feels like a multilevel marketing scheme where everyone was forced to join and can’t get out, then even the people on top are miniscule, but the ones on the bottom, with higher numbers and desire for success, are even smaller.

Fleet of Downward Ships

Shout out to all of the people who have read, liked, commented on and followed my blog.

Special shout out to odylicious, the creator of bookzone (https://bookblog200.wordpress.com/), since they are, as far as I know, the first person who I haven’t met who is a regular to this blog.

I just think that having reached out to even one person is awesome and I’m pretty pumped. So thank you for your support as I keep posting more and more of my heart, mind and soul on here.

Scott McGrateful

I didn’t have any plans when I started writing this. I just decided that I wanted to write something and began. But lo and behold, that’s the beauty of writing. Nothing that I write has any meaning until I decide to write it, regardless of whether I give it meaning or not. Quite frankly, I don’t even know if that makes sense, but I said it, therefore, giving it sense.

brown canoe in the body of water near mountain
Photo by Tobi on Pexels.com

One paragraph in and I’m sure the absurd content of this writing has already made you forget about the totally nonsensical title that began it. When I first started writing, the title was “Symphony of Death”, but I thought that that was too interesting to not make its own thing, so now it’s “Fleet of Downward Ships”. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a title.

This piece really doesn’t have any significance, does it? It’s interesting because I’ve said nothing memorable, but that makes this inherently memorable. But you’ll think to yourself, with or without this upcoming thought, that you won’t ever actually think about this again, but this is the kind of piece that you will think about at a random time when you’re reading something with more impact and punch, giving this potentially more significance than the other thing that you’re reading, because the thought of this while reading something else gives this more impact than the thing you were already reading.

That doesn’t make a goddamned bit of sense. It’s hilarious in a way, because as you read this, you think it’s stupid. You think you just wasted your time, but all the while, you’re still here. You’re still reading my work. And my work will be what makes you come back for more.

So, as with the Fleet of Downward Ships, this ends with no point, no purpose and no impact, but doesn’t that give it all the purpose that it needs?

Chalkboard Woes

This was an idea that my friend Nikos came up with. I wrote it about a year ago and I still find it to be one of the more existential and unique pieces that I have written. I’ve never been someone who loved school or the education system. I’d even say that I hate it. These are the kinds of thoughts I’ve had since way back in grade school and lasted all the way to college.

Scott McSchoolspirit

abc books chalk chalkboard
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The room is desolate. At night, all I see are desks, chairs and cleaning supplies. During the day, I see the same desks and chairs but inhabited by children.

They are so full of energy. The way that they talk. The way that they act. The way that they think. It’s marvelous.

Energy high, the teacher talks to the children, guiding them through their educational journey. They pick up a piece of used chalk and write on my surface. I can feel their emotions flowing as smoothly as the newly drawn line; their true feelings revealed.

Tired and worn as they watch the students go through the same tedious process that they had gone through years earlier. They wish the best for the students but hopes lay low. When they’re young, they are carefree. They have fun. They don’t realize what problems await them.

What’s worse is that they are always so unprepared. I watch these youths and how they talk, act and think. They’re creative. They do exactly what they want to do to have fun. They make the best of everything that they do.

The teacher looks at the kids and wishes that they could still think like they do. Unable to see what’s coming. Unable to feel the pain of the real world.

When a child brings chalk to my surface, it’s the highlight of my day. They are given the freedom to draw whatever is in their young minds. It’s always fun to see and feel their disregard for other opinions. How they share their work with their classmates.

Then, just like the cruel nature of life, an eraser is brought to it, removing it from the world. Taking it from their mind and never giving it back. They are trained from a young age that their thoughts are forgettable. That their creativity isn’t special. That they are just like everyone else.

Seeing how a child grows to become a teacher that wishes that they thought like a child is miserable. It’s a vicious, unforgiving cycle that makes the sanest person wonder how it’s accepted. But what can I do about it? I’m where creativity lies dormant until the end of my existence.

Change

The constant struggle between trying to become something bigger than myself and falling into complacent laziness is one that I have to overcome everyday. I’m not special by saying that. Everyone has different metrics for success. Mine sits much higher than I’ll likely ever be able to reach, but you bet your ass I’m working every day to get closer.

Scott McWorkaholic

Why do I do it? Before I go to sleep, I say I’m going to do something big, something ambitious, something that will give me purpose. Then I wake up, my mind groggy, my eyes cloudy, my brain telling me to stay in bed.

analysis blackboard board bubble
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

You know what I’m talking about. The idea that you’ve had but never acted on. The activity that you want to do but can’t follow through on. The dream that has never left anything but your thoughts. Whatever it is, you know you’d rather be doing it, but something prevents you.

What is it that you want to do? Do you want to quit a job that you hate? Are you in a relationship that you want to leave? Would you run away and start again if you could?

No matter what it is, you can’t do it. You probably feel shame and guilt. You probably feel angry and depressed. All you want to do is break the cycle of self-loathing. A cycle that has existed for as long as you can remember. A cycle that only you can break, but your mind refuses to change.

I will never understand it. Is it a problem with me and my brain? Or is it a problem with man and human will? No matter the reason, it needs to change.

Is it fear of the unknown? Lack of security? Dislike of change? I don’t know what it is but it’s always there. It nags but will never reveal itself. Maybe it’ll slip up one day and I’ll know what’s stopping me. But even if I did… would I change anything?

If you knew what caused this thing. This nagging feeling in the back of your mind. If you could just put your finger one what the problem was… would you change it?