I walked down the street and cried
As I passed her grave
Unmarked, rotten, and ant riddled.
Her life cut short, her wings clipped
She learned to fly. Learned to fall.
A life without purpose,
At least the one she wanted.
Now she feeds the ants instead.
– Shaman Romney 2016
Never meet your idols. They’re better in your mind.
You’ll find they’ll never live up to the image you’ve designed.
You might get lucky, and realize they’re just human.
They might think you are cool, and you could gain a great friend.
But most likely they just smile and walk away.
You came on far too strong
Like the thousands of other fans they meet everyday.If I met my idol, he’d pretend to be my friend
But in the end, at best he’d forget me
At worse, he’d regret meeting me.
I’m a reminder of the life he might have led
If he didn’t have the guts to tackle his problems
And pursue his dreams.So I’ll remain idle in my idol worship
Ideally, I’ll never meet any of them.
-Shaman Romney 2016
Pitter patter
My thoughts scatter
Like rain drops in my mind
A constant torrent that won’t relent
At best my mind is like Seattle
At worst its a monsoon
It’s like I live in a steel roofed house
Eventually all the metallic static
Becomes synonymous with silence
Most of my ideas get lost in the flood waters
I’m only left with the biggest, the best, the worst
Imagine what I could do
If I wasn’t mostly water.
If I was filled with sunny days
And springtime weather.
-Shaman Romney 2016
It’s quiet here in the clutter of my room
But BOOM there is thunder in my mind’s confines
And POP something drops from the top of the shelf
I pick it up, I write it down so it’ll make a sound
Like CRASH as I smash it into a line
Now that looks fine; something that I can call mine
And DING hear it ring the timer says time to finish up
But no, my mind doesn’t think it’s enough
So POW hear it now as I’m messing it up
I keep meddling, back peddling. It’s not enough
I SCREAM as I dream of the perfect line
Hiding in the back of my mind and so I mine
My delusions of grandeur, I’m looking for gold
No matter how hard I swing, CRACK, I bring up coal
I’m tired of always digging, but I have to keep at it
Otherwise my mind will devolve into static
-Shaman Romney 2016
A couple of weeks ago, I got fed up with Facebook. I never really engaged in the social aspect of social networking. I mostly just used it to stalk old friends and crushes, watch people yell at each other, read funny memes from George Takei, and overall waste time not doing the things I should be doing. In addition to it being a colossal time waster, I found it was making me more and more depressed. I’d get to see high school friends getting nice jobs, buying homes, having kids, getting married, living life to the fullest, having all sorts of awesome adventures, etc. Doing everything I wish I could do if I wasn’t too busy dicking around on Facebook.
So, in a bout of lucid self loathing, I said, “To hell with this! A pox on thee, Facebook, and thy creator, Zuckerberg too!” Well, I said that in some universe, at least in my head. But, I did go and deactivate my Facebook, deciding that I needed a break from it. That was about two weeks ago.
I don’t really miss it all that much. I tend to keep in touch with the people I actually care about, as they are the ones who bother to text me and actively attempt to see me. They actually try to be real friends, perish the thought. I don’t really miss out on current events, political debates, or funny memes. I have other websites for that, and although they can be a bit of a time sink as well they don’t drop my mood or trap me in some stupid little skinner box.
I don’t say this to admonish people who do enjoy Facebook. It can be great for keeping in touch with friends, reconnecting, and sharing your life with others. I know both my parents have used it to get in touch with old friends and distant family, and my dad posts pictures from his garden all the time. People use it to arrange hangouts and catalog their fun times with each other. It has its uses, but I wasn’t making use of them.I was using it in all the bad ways, and making bad habits. So I think it was good move to give it the axe.
Yes, yes, I know, Random-Meme-I-Pulled-From-Google. I’m not saying I am done for good. I know eventually I will get sucked back in and reactivate my profile. But I think it will be later rather than sooner. You know why I think that?
Because I already did it. I got curious and I wanted to see what happened in my two-week long absence. So I signed back in while I was at lunch. I had a few missed notifications, but mostly it was just filled with the same inane bull that I hated and was trying to ignore in the first place. People posting drama statuses. People praising Hillary/Trump as the second coming of Jesus. George Takei posting a cat pic. All of the time-wasting goodness I used to eat up like it was my last meal.
Did I get sucked in? For about 5 minutes. Then it hit me: I really didn’t care. It isn’t worth my time or brain power. So, I disabled it again. Maybe this time it’ll be for two months. Maybe even two years. By that time, who even knows if Facebook will even be the big thing any more? It may totally be some twitter Snapchat amalgam that provides even less thought and more cats. (It’s the internet, it’s always more cats.)
Either way, I think I am going to steer clear of it, and actually enjoy going outside and living life playing video games and watching YouTube. You know, the important things in life.
Thank you for reading :),
Shaman
My friends and I have started a writing group. They all want to improve as writers, and I want to try and start writing fiction stories. I have a lot of cool ideas, and I think it would be better if they are out in the world instead of gathering dust in the back of my brain. Ideas have always been easy for me, the hard part is actually writing the story.
How does someone even write fiction? Do you just make stuff up?
I used to know how when I was younger. I could sit down and write pages of fiction without any effort. The characters, plot, and everything else about them sucked. But at least I could write it. Now I find myself staring at the keyboard, its QWERTYs, ASDFs, and WASDs burning my soul with their judging mocking gaze.
If you ask me to create a character for Dungeons and Dragons, or any other RPG? I’ll not only make a mechanically unique and effective character, but I will build him a detailed backstory with family records, milestones, mannerisms, etc. But I cant turn it into any sort of narrative story.
Ask me to write a blog post? I can put down 500 to 1000 words on a topic in an hour, 3 if I need to revise/make it sound good. It’s not hard for me to put my thoughts down, as I write the way I think and speak. But fiction means I have to put myself in someone else’s head, and I don’t know how to do that.
So when you tell me to sit down and write a fiction story? You might as well tell me to win the lottery or grow wings and fly.
I know a large part of it is a lack of experience. You don’t go into the gym and start benching 200 lbs if the last time you did 100 lbs was in high school. That is a good way to injure yourself. I can’t jump into a chihuahua crushing epic fantasy novel without tearing my corpus callosum either.
However, I have no idea where to even start. I have all of these ideas buzzing in my head: cool scenes straight out of a move, a Silmarillion’s worth of world building, and a somewhat unique magic system. I’m an avid reader of both too many books and too much TVTropes. What else would I need? Actual talent?
It’s like I have a fresh batch of ingredients and a full purpose kitchen, but I only know how to make a grilled cheese. I’m just the wordsmith equivalent of a line cook who has been asked to make whatever he thinks would impress the food critic. I hope he likes Kraft singles and white bread.
The point of this post was to state I may also start posting short stories here, in addition to rants both political and personal, and my poetry. Just like with Politalking, I am going to try and keep things labelled, so that those of you who check my blog out for the poetry alone can skip it if you want.
Time for me to drop down and give 20 paragraphs. Wish me luck!
-Shaman
I want an addiction to proper diction
No friction between my words as I pick them
Flowing slick as I quickly slide them
From inside and drop them for you to see
Like seashells, sitting on the seashore
For you to admire, I desire that satisfaction
Even if I only receive a fraction.They need to sound consistent, unique,
The transition of constants and consonants
Needs to lack resistance no matter how much
The words smash and crash into each other
In a tidal wave of dissonance and discordance
These dissidents of English will be brought to confluence
By my mastery of clarity and the dictionaryBut on the contrary, right now it is scary
That I only have a passing skill, and nary the time
To pass on asking myself to task myself
With attacking the assonance and rhythm
Of poetry, knowing that I am an amateur,
Unsure of myself and of my place
But I will face this challenge with prideBecause inside, I’ll confide that I hide
The heart of a lion, which I’ll start to show
With more sincerity, as this disparity I’ve displayed
Has left me dismayed, but I wont be dissuaded
In fact, I’m elated that this fear has abated
I created, with little conflict or object
This poem to finally addict me to proper diction.
-Shaman Romney 2016
I need my biggest dreams
To be my fondest memories.
I want my life to put my death to shame.
I don’t want my last refrain
To be one of regret, one of disdain.
I want my legacy to be something unfathomable,
Something no one has ever thought of,
The answer to a question we don’t know to ask yet.I can’t convince myself to accept anything less.
Unless I meet my higher standard,
I do not deserve to stand with pride.
I cannot understand a half placed effort,
Being comforted with less than perfection
Is a perfect misdirection of your true purpose:
To leave a permanent mark on the world
And better it for your fellow man.
-Shaman Romney 2016
You don’t get to preach violence and hate,
And then regret it when you get it.
Their deaths are on your plate.
Yet you have the gall to celebrate
5 deaths, 2 deaths, any death is too many
You lose any respect from me when you hop on twitter
And spout hate speech in the name of toleranceOh, you’re frustrated? I am too.
In fact, I was on your side until I saw what you say and do
The things you say hit strong, that’s fine
That’s not the problem
The issue is when you pervert the truth
Take something right, and turn it wrongI don’t care who you represent
All lives, blue lives, or black lives matter
When blood is shed in your name, we all get splattered
You’re supposedly above this, you’re supposed to be an example
But with this, all you’re doing is trampling on the efforts
Of the people out there who are trying to do good.Please don’t prove the demagogues right.
Don’t give ammunition to their bigotry; their fear.
What you are doing is a good way to blow it all up.
You say you’re standing for love, so show it.That should be enough.
– Shaman Romney 2016
This is going to be a bit more of a raw and emotional rant on my part. I plan on discussing the 2nd amendment(as well as all the others) and gun control at a later date, but in light of the events of Orlando, and the fact that keeping this all in is making me feel physically ill, I need to speak more candidly about this.
First and foremost, this is a tragedy. This is a disgusting and horrible act, perpetrated by a disturbed monster. The families of the victims must be going through unimaginable pain, and my thoughts go to those still in the hospital. I wish them a full recovery. To those who have lost loved ones, I cannot fathom or understand what you have gone through, as I have not be through that pain. My heart goes out to you, and although it does little to ease the pain, I am sorry.
I’d call this a wake up call for America, but we have been hitting the snooze button for years now. We need to do something about this. We don’t have to all agree on what that is right now, but we can no longer sit here pretending that these shootings, these deaths are not a bit deal. Choosing to do nothing is still making a choice.
I am all about freedom. I don’t believe that people should give up their freedoms for safety. Giving away our rights should be a last resort, something we should rarely ever consider even in the worst of times. To do so is to let fear rule over our lives, and let those who wish to cause us that fear win. On the other hand, I am sitting across from a rack of magazines, staring at Guns and Ammo, and I have to fight the ugre to buy every single magazine and burn them when I get home. The thought of some bastard using his freedoms, our freedoms, to destroy so many lives for such senseless and stupid reasons fills me with rage. I had problems working, I had problems sleeping, and I don’t even have a dog in the fight. My closest connections are LGBT family members, and the fact that my company has an office in Orlando. (None of my coworkers were hurt in the attack, thankfully.)
I understand the anger. I understand the outrage. I understand that people want someone to blame, want some easy solution, some panacea to present itself and stop the pain.
Yes, the fact he got a gun so easily is what allowed him to do such harm. Yes, he did do this attack in the name of ISIS and because of jihadist extremism. Yes, he was also a self hating homophobe who picked his targets because of their orientation. No, it isn’t just one of those things and no, we can’t solve it easily or cleanly.
Life is not that simple. These issues are not that simple. Like with everything I have stated before, life is complicated, messy, and full of nuance. We cannot let anger and fear rule us. I refuse to let it rule me. If we want to be a free and just society, we need to rise above it all. We need to come together and make it work. That means compromise. That means swallowing your pride. That means getting down into the weeds and getting your hands dirty. We don’t do it by screaming, by throwing the blame endlessly, by ignoring the facts. I understand, and sympathize with that sentiment. But it will solve nothing on its own.
These are the times that try men’s souls. These are the times that define us as a country. History has its eyes on this moment, and we need to decide how we proceed.
Do we give in to our fear and take away rights from all citizens, due to the actions of the bad? Do we give in to our anger, destroy our humanity, define large swaths of people as the enemy, and commit atrocities too often repeated in history? Do we choose not to act, and let the situation devolve to the point that ideologues and demagogues make the choice for us, when we are past the point of compromise? Or do we find that compromise, fight and strive for a solution, and rise up as a country?
I don’t know what the answer is. I’m just a jerk on the internet with too much time and too many opinions.
I do know I am tired of all the death. I know I am tired of all the hate. I know that I don’t want to live in a world defined by those qualities.
I don’t feel like shuffling off this mortal coil just yet, so I will do my best to change this world. No matter how little that is, at least I can say I tried.
Thank you for reading,
Shaman
Shame on The Universe 