I'm not even sure if I understand this yet but I'll give it a shot.
I don't think one can even construct a third world without seeing for yourself what you get when you go into your mind. I mean these third worlds consist of our fears and things we don't want to deal with and I don't want to have to create a world where I have to deal with a bunch clowns and rapists. Personally, I'd rather stay in this world, where I can try to avoid them. I think third worlds are like dreams. I know I can control my dreams and that's what I picture a third world to be. A place where I can't predict where I'm going to end up but once I get there I can control what happens. The idea that I'm subconsciously creating it but I'm not at the same time, I don't know I'm creating a place where my fears come out and I have to deal with things I don't want to because I think if we did make it consciously we wouldn't make it full of our fears. We'd fill the world with pink ponies and rainbows. There are things that at moments when they are happening I wish they weren't but in the end it's for the best. I know that happened when my parents got divorced last year. At the time, I wish I could have gone to a different world where it all wasn't happening and I could escape it all but now that it's over I see it was all for the best and it made all of our lives happier. But in third worlds, we aren't just faced with things we want to happen; we are faced with fears like nightmares. Some of my worst nightmares are my biggest fears and even if I can wake up, it's still there, it still happened just like when you entered that third world, you can escape what's going on but the thought and what happened is still there. I just don't think if the third world is our imagination and whatever we want it to be, we would all be like Pan and create a monster. There has to be a submission and we have to let go and not "construct" it but let our minds without our control and filter, pulling out all the bad stuff to make a perfect world, and let it be a world where we face things to help us grow and if we get too scared we can escape. In the movie, if Pan really wanted to get over her fear represented by the monster she would have killed him with the knife (kind of graphic but true) and if I wanted to face my fear of kidnappers and rapists when I dreamed about it I would take over, get out and save myself. However, we are too scared to face our fears and the fact that we can control the third world makes it almost impossible to get over what holds us back in the real world. The only way to get over them is to face them in the real world and deal with them then. There's no point to dealing with them in the third world because we always run away. No matter what we do, we will draw a box or wake up. I just think there's no way for us to say what our third world would be because of course I'm going to say well it would never be completely dark, clowns wouldn't exist, it would never rain and rapists would be gone but it's not until we actually go there that we can describe it and I don't even think we are really constructing it. It's our subconciousness (is that a word?) creating it. That's why it reminds me of dreams or nightmares because dreams come from things going on in our lives, fears, things we've seen on TV and who else knows. I mean last night I dreamed I was pregnant and believe me if I had to construct a third world that would definitely not happen at all, at any point. No, No, No. But somehow, it was on my mind so when I let go of the control of my mind, it was produced, the way a third world is. We can control what happens once we are there as much as we want but we can't control where we go because it's not our awareness that gets us there, it's the stuff in the back of our minds that we try not to think about but when we are asleep and have no control, it comes out. I know you may have been expecting us to write a legit world, but I just can't do that because it wouldn't be what my third world really was, it'd be a lie I created not to deal with the things I don't want to face but I will face in the third world and I can't even begin to tell you what would happen because even I don't know till I get there and have experienced it for myself.
Again, I'm not even sure if thus is what you wanted but I just let it go and just wrote.
Ok, so what I understood from this is that you want us to create a our own third world. Well, I'd say my third world is writing. Writing is an escape and a tool; it's snapshots of our time spent in the labyrinth. And truthfully, I think we’ll always be in that labyrinth, and we should enjoy it. In Funes, His Memory, Borges writes: “With one quick look, you and I perceive three wineglasses on a table; Funes perceived every grape that had been pressed into the wine and all the stalks and tendrils of its vineyard.” Viewing the wineglass refers to recognizing only the destination, while viewing all the supporting parts refers to seeing the journey that leads to that destination.
In our culture, it is often destinations that gain importance. The whole saying “the end justifies the means” supports this, because it’s basically like saying “Do whatever the heck you want! Walk all over people, cheat, scheme up every demonic plan that works to your advantage- as long as it gets you an award.” In the end, it’s these titles that summarize our lives. People die as their ultimate achievement and/or their profession. Think of Heath Ledger, he is now remembered as “Heath Ledger, the Actor (or to the less intellectually endowed people, as “the Hot Guy”), but no one speaks of the many other facets of the deceased. In his death, we’ve also lost Heath Ledger, the thinker, breather, our fellow wanderer in the labyrinth. This applies to all who have passed, I just used Ledger since I’m reacquainted with his death every time I open up my internet browser.
The point is that our labyrinth, our third world, is what keeps us going. It’s a boundary we’re confined to, but only in the sense that it is a product of time. While we’re still alive, the labyrinth is the closest we will ever get to total freedom (and it comes pretty darn close). Crash too violently into a wall or try and escape the labyrinth and I doubt you’ll like what you see. One step outside and you’re staring at a six foot ditch, with a wooden rectangular chest lying neatly at the bottom.
Now, this is an example of a third world I’ve created. It’s my own personal snapshot of words. Reading it allows me to revive the legions of memories slowly wilting inside of me; it allows me to wander, at least mentally, back into that moment of the labyrinth. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in my mind, it’s the words that are worth a thousand pictures. Show me an actual photograph and I’ll see what was happening at that time, maybe I’ll get a little nostalgic of how I felt. But let me read something and I’ll become enveloped in that time, and I’ll see the life of who I was in that moment (because we’re all ever-evolving). A glossy 3 by 5 of a staged smile is replaced with a concentrated dose of emotion- a little scoop out of someone’s mind. This, for me, is a Kodak moment:
We lingered in the air of a disintegrating summer Our newly bought shoes hiding tired, tan toes Teenage angst tried its hardest to contain our excitement Routine laziness sought to overstay its welcome We were surrounded by faces that had been absent for three months We were surrounded by prospect and expectations of the new year
As the air gradually cooled, we gradually warmed up Jackets replaced bare arms and scarves made cameos First impressions gave rise to lasting reputations Enthusiastic diligence shrunk into careless procrastination The scent of cool, dry wind enveloped our fading green fields The resonant bell certified that June was nowhere near
Then the ground vanished beneath a clean coating of white We nearly lost our bodies under cloth layers of warmth Personalities fought hard to counter the dismal landscape Too often they fell into the season’s depressing trap Still, friendships were formed over polished wooden planks Potential friendships seemed possible in the months that remained
Finally, winter submitted to the subtly rising heat Toes reemerged, their shade now akin to that of the melted snow Our attention spans had prematurely burned out But we devoted ourselves dually to impatience and anticipation Standing on the same verdant plane, our friendship had yet to flourish Optimism was only a mask, covering everyone’s substantial doubt
Soon we will be reacquainted with the warm summer air Our dress code of collars and khakis will be traded for cutoffs Forthcoming freedom is vast, and as vicious as the nearby Atlantic Too much of what’s been built these nine months will weaken and collapse We’ll conceal it with happiness, as we have no choice but to be carefree I can’t let myself complain; I allowed you to get away
Ok, I have no Idea what I am supposed to do, at the same time I do, but I am afraid of being wrong because of all of the brain washing I have had at this school. So the third world, if it is like dreams like Sasha said, then I know what she means. You too Mr. K. in class today, I knew exactly what you were talking about. I do take control in my dreams. The best example I think is in this dream I had, I was in my house having a French class with my 2nd grade French teacher, and then all of a sudden all of the students left and ran away because there was a killer outside. So I went outside, and there was a killer and a policeman shooting at each other. The killer was behind the tree, and the policeman was behind the mattress, and he was using it as a shield. So I went behind the mattress with the policeman to get help, only the killer shot me through the mattress. Naturally a mattress can't stop a bullet. But the weird part was that I actually physically felt the shot enter my side, and it hurt so much that I woke up and sat up, realizing that I wasn't actually shot even though I felt like I had been. Then I got really angry! HOW dare he shoot me! I got so angry that I fell asleep and went right back into that dream. Suddenly I was there again behind that mattress, and I was bleeding. I looked at my other hand (the one not holding my side to keep the blood from coming out) and there was an AK-47 in my hand. I snuck through the woods around my neighborhood until I was behind that killer, who was preoccupied with shooting at the police man. And then I shot him right in the back of the head. So… I guess this dream is symbolic of how I acted afterward… I have changed since then. In a way, I had been shot in the side by someone a while before having that dream… since then I've fought through the pain… and I shot back. (no I didn't kill someone, I'm being metaphorical). So this dream from the third world helped me overcome the pain that I had been feeling in this world, and let me fight back. My own creation from the third world changed the way I act and think. Because before I had the dream, I was just wallowing in my pain and feeling sorry for myself… that dream showed me my AK-47, my strength to act and to do what I had to do. This is how I saw through my hands. I realized what I needed to do through my creation, and that by hiding behind the mattress, I would get shot. Now if some idiot thinks they can shoot me, they better watch out. (let me stress, there was no physical violence involved, and I don't have a gun, and I'm not planning on shooting anyone in the back of the head anytime soon… on a literal level that is.)
I’m not quite sure how to approach this so, here goes? My “third world” is what I do and who I am.
I think I laugh I cry I play I hurt I comfort I communicate I shutout I create I destroy I ignore I observe I understand I complicate I believe I deny I judge
I am a friend, an enemy, a dancer, a camp counselor, and a Jenga enthusiast. I am too hard on myself, I take everything too personally, I am anxious, and I am obsessive compulsive. I am motivated but easily discouraged. I am awkward. I am terrified of snakes. Clowns, the word moist, and worms, all give me the heebie-jeebies. I snap my shoulder socket when I am nervous, which is all of the time. I can only turn my car off when the time shows an even number. I can only go to bed when my clock shows an even number. I always make sure that I have an even number of words when I write these blogs. I do just about everything in twos. I love to choreograph dances but I don’t always feel comfortable sharing them with other people. I am scared of rejection. I am constantly worrying about the past and future, never thinking of the present. I am a jealous person. I don’t care what other people think about me, but that is a lie. My summers are spent at camp. It is the place, the experience, the people, where I get my confidence. Without it, I would feel extremely empty. If I could, I would spend all of my summers there to come. I don’t want to grow up just yet. I listen and comfort those who come to me. Sometimes I snap and I can’t listen or comfort any longer. But, then I feel guilty if I am not helping others. I don’t have enough time to myself. I am a role model. I am a self-proclaimed “free spirit”.
This is my “third world”. This is who I am, take it or leave it.
My third world is my imagination, which is filled with my fears and my insecurities and also happiness’s. My world would burst probably first with spiders because they creep me out and then it would probably be filled with things that I wish I could change about myself but I can’t because it’s who I am. I’m a super jealous person and I tend to hold grudges and I wish I didn’t but I do. It would also probably be filled with teachers because they will make or break your future. Whether or not we choose to believe it grades matter and people do care what grades you get, especially colleges. Therefore teachers are a little scary for me right now because I know that they could change me going to my top choice school or YCCC (no offence). I know that my third world contain my biggest secrets and my biggest regrets; they still kind of haunt me even if they were like 5 years ago. I don’t let go easily so I think that that would be there too. But over all of it I think that my ‘happy place’ would be there. I grew up at my dad’s hotel, I know that the hotel is like a second home to me and some of the employees are like family. In my third would I would probably be at the York Harbor beach next to the hotel that I’ve grown up with. That’s where I feel content and where the spiders and the worries and burdens of life will wash away.
I think that my third world is unique but I also want to point out that all of us in the class have something in common whether we realize we have it or not and all of our worlds are going to consist of it. Therefore, we could all technically have the same third world…so could this world that we are living in be everyone’s third world? Is there a third world of imagination or is this world filled with imagination and as we grow up we loose this imagination because society tells us. Have we lost our opportunity in this third world and we just need to go back and grasp it?
See using your hands... that makes me think not of literal seeing with your eyes but seeing as in experiencing. Don't just watch something happen, but be a part of it. By being a part of something one can adventure and in turn discover who they are through actions and thoughts.
For example, I can see hockey on TV or go watch it at the rink. But I never truly 'saw' and experienced the game to discover it till I began playing in first grade. Through the game I then discovered some of my inner self. I am aggressive, annoying, apparently a... word I shouldn't post on the blog, and determined - these are only a few things I learned about myself through hockey. Over the years I developed a great dedication to the sport. My third world has been shaped by the life of dedication to the sport, how I've grown up with having two parents which both work for state law enforcement, and having a very close extended family on my mom's side. Two deaths have come into play so far during my life which have strengthened me more than I ever expected and yet weakened me also (part of life's contradictions). I've been able to overcome a fear of heights by gaining a love for roller coasters... yet I still remain the only person I know who closes their eyes on the way up and opens them once the coaster has reached its peak and heads for downfall.
The ability to challenge the unknown and feel through the rough spots of life creates the third world. Discovering who you are and the realization of that only enhance this world and make it more livable (is that even a word?). Imagination and creativity personalize the world so that it is true to the individual. Third worlds are like fingerprints, unique to those who create them and influenced by those who created the individual to whom the third world belongs.
I think one way to enter into the third world is through writing--any form. So, I decided to write a story. Here it goes...
Arden raised the blue chip to her eyes and carefully examined its surface. At a closer look, she noticed that it was inlayed with feint ridges, diverging and converging in a countless number of interconnected paths. She was amazed that an entire experience could be contained beneath the chip’s blue surface, no bigger than the size of a thumbtack. Arden then pressed the chip against an indent in her frontal lobe and held it there for a few seconds. She heard the familiar clicking noise, as she felt her mind begin to shift into the memory.
At first, the scene in front of her appeared to be covered in a thick layer of fog. She could scarcely make out a vague outline of what lay before her, but within a few minutes the images gained clarity and her surroundings became as vivid as her previous her reality. She came to see that she was sitting by herself, looking out at the ocean, and observing each crest as it inevitably would break and then fall. A cool tingling feeling rose up her leg, as the water lapsed at her feet and slowly ate away at the land beneath her. The wind mixed with the spray of the sea beat against her face and whipped her hair in every direction. In the distance she could hear children laughing and screaming in high-pitched voices, mingled with the mundane chat of their parents.
All of sudden Arden experienced a sharp pain in her shoulder blade, as she felt herself pushed forward towards the ground. She instinctively reached her hands in front of her, yet they were unable to sustain her weight and folded beneath her, her head crashing against the floor.
The vision of the ocean began to slowly fade into the image of her brother, James, standing above her, holding the blue chip in his hand. Before she could say anything, he began talking rapidly, his cheeks growing red. “Arden. I told you last night that I wanted this memory. I’ve never experienced the beach before, and it’s not fair that you always get to.” Arden stared at him with a vacant look in her eyes. It was hard for her to comprehend what he was saying, after being shaken from the memory and forced to abruptly transition back into reality. She then replied cooly, “James, relax. It’s just a memory. It’s not real.”
A heated anger swept over his face. “Not real? How can you say it’s not real! If it’s in your mind, does that mean it’s not real? ” He paused for breath then continued, “Besides, watching all these memories are what make you who you are. Does that mean you’re not real?” Arden stared at him with a fixed gaze. “Well, James, you’ve clearly been watching the wrong memories, because look how you’ve turned out.”
James pretended he didn’t hear Arden’s insult, as he pressed the chip to the sunken spot in his frontal lobe and closed his eyes to the scene before him.
Arden then felt a vibration in her pocket, and pulled out her Clipin. She clicked “activate” as a pulsing feeling ran up her arm. The image of her mother conceptualized in her mind. “Arden, honey, I just ordered some new memories for you for school. They sound interesting..there’s one on World War III, and a few chemistry lessons. All right, bye, hun. I’ll be home soon.” Arden deactivated the Clipin, and turned towards the memory cabinet. She began to aimlessly sift through the various files of memories. The words of her brother, which she had earlier rejected, began to sink in. All she is, is just recycled memories from the past. She has complete control over who she wants to be by simply selecting the right memory chips.
A third world- we decided in class that it is what is in our heads.(or maybe what needs to be written?)The first part of my third world comes from hallucinations or dreams that we can control to an extent. I’m sure the rest of the ideas develop in our subliminal mind where we have no control what so ever. Dreams that we have at night for example are part of my third world. I have had dreams of being chased to the top of a building and having to look off the edge … right when I get ready to fly off my conscience takes control and I wake up in a panic before anything too intense goes down. Not to say that I don’t have crazy dreams; I just know I do have control over them when I am completely unconscious. The third world is not only made up of dreams, but also the past. As learning growing humans, we have cumulative knowledge. If we didn’t, each day would be new for us and we would have no foundation to out past, present or future. Like babies, we would crawl around and speak gibberish. We would have a clean slate every day and no knowledge of the past. Because we don’t live like that, we are not completely unique or set apart from the people who came before us. We can never come up with an idea that isn’t partially branched from another idea that has been thought about previously. It is difficult to think about but it is how we learn and progress. Based on this conclusion, I believe that our thoughts and ideas come from our experiences so the second part of the third world is our experiences. The third part of my third world is the unknown. Most of us are afraid of the unknown or afraid of something that has to do with the unknown. For example some people are afraid of the dark, well they aren’t really afraid of the dark, just what may be in the dark. The unknown. So if I mix dreams, thoughts and ideas based on experiences and the unknown together, I get my third world. That is everything that is in my imagination…anything that I can think of comes from one of those main ideas.
I don't know what to say. I feel as if I'd just be bring up again what was said in class. Even though I agree with it, I feel repeating it wouldn't be a very third-worldly thing to do. Unless this is what the third world is? Just a fusion of the world around you with what you see on CNN? In that case wouldn't it just be the embodiment of society? Can there be any true individuality in it? I think the third world is the world we lived as children. Innocent, unknowing children uncorrupted by society and education. That world children live in is our third world. True, it is still a world of imagination, but but its pure imagination not influenced by what we have been brainwashed since kindergarten or the evil of the world or "reality" or "unreality". A mixture of worlds, no. Its own completely separate world. It has to be. I think the only way to find the world is to get rid of the first two. It's not an addition problem, but subtraction. Your society - the world = Third world.
Someone said today in Humanities (heh), what if we were born without any senses, like couldn't see or hear or touch or smell. I think this is the third world. Its hard to even fathom what this means. Complete darkness, silence, nothing. How boring, or is it? Because one thing that you'll always have is your mind and just because you can't see doesn't mean you can't see. I mean it must be fascinating to see what you'd create. What creatures would u create when completely unaware of our reality? They wouldn't be anything like Pan's Labryinth because you wouldn't know what eyes are or hands or teeth or anything. There wouldn't be dragons or witches or goblins or trolls, these are all society's creatures. It would be complete, total, unobstructed imagination. One beautiful dream. Thats what i think the third world is.
I’m not trying to denounce this topic here, but as I write about my third world, I don’t see how this is creating one at all, and I don’t think that I am, I am creating an image of it. I feel held up by this wall, the wall we talked about that separates action from thought. I feel like I need to turn this imagination that only exists in thought in to an action, that of experiencing this imagination. This makes me think that my own third world is in the building processes, so it’s not my third world; instead it is only my first world. Saying all of the things I’ve said before about combining the two worlds to make a third now seems like bull, because I can’t picture my world consisting of something I don’t know, like my second world, so I only have my own experiences to create this thought process. So my third world is my first world, or possibly just a child of my first world. It needs to grow up, mature, and discover its identity.
If I see with my hands, then everything I “see” is simply an outline, and I can only grasp the borders of them. This is true for my third world. I can pick things I think are in there, and I can form the general outline, general equation of what it is, but until I experience it, I can’t shade in what’s inside this outline; I cannot solve this equation. I can’t consciously create a third world; I have to subconsciously do it then experience it, making it my first world. If I just think about it and then create it, I’m not doing it justice and not really creating the true third world of mine.
When we consciously create a third world, we are making a rough draft. Only when that world basically creates itself in your mind, not you creating it, is it a final draft. I know if I made my world consciously I wouldn’t necessarily make it like CareALot and jump on clouds shooting love through the CareBear stare, and I would include some not-so-good things. I need to learn and gain something from my third world, and I have to have some problems so I can grow, so that my physical being and mind are always evolving. That’s why I can’t just say “this is what’s in my third world”, because that to me makes it permanent, trapped and stuck in there not able to move. I need to do justice to my first world by fully grasping certain experiences, before I can jump and create another world, because I need those fully grasped experiences to make my third world. So even though my third world sucks, can anyone say it’s wrong? Not that I will care, but I don’t see how anyone can call my third world wrong, because it is a reflection of my thoughts and my first world, and me. I’m not fully developed mentally; my mind is clouded by random things running through it constantly, no order to it. This just creates a clump of blaaaah, so my third world is this space, this clump of blaaah. So this is the reflection of me, I am just “blah”, but at least I admit it I guess. I’m a mess, my mind is a mess, so my third world can’t be defined without it being a complete mess, because I can’t reflect in a new world on something that I can’t grasp in my first world. My third world has to be true to myself, and I’m not certain of anything, I don’t know myself. One of the only ways I know how to give justice to my third world is to not fully create it.
I commend people who can draw the door that opens them to their third world, because that represents something, just being able to do that. Right now I’m not at that point; I have the chalk in my hand, but I can’t get myself to draw anything. It could be that I can’t get myself to do it, or maybe I’m not letting myself, but right now those lines are blurred and it’s all the same to me.
My third world is where I have the power to do what I want, say what I feel, etc. without fear of repercussions. Even though my third world isn’t ideal, and in this world I will say something dumb and get in trouble for it, but that trouble I’m experiencing isn’t real, it’s still imaginary trouble. I will never be able to implement this in to my first world, I’m too scared, too weak, too something, so I just can’t. Still, I want to vaporize my problems from something real to something unreal. The first world is the only true world I will ever be able to live in, so I want to learn to fight the creator of this world, piss them off by doing what I want, by dumping heaps of “thirdworldness” into it, and thus eliminating the reality of these problems.
In my third world I will be able to explain everything I want: to tell people how I hate being judged, but I judge, how I hate that there’s so much more to me than what people think and they don’t really understand me, but that I also want some things to remain secret and I don’t want to be completely understood. In this third world of mine my contradictions are ingested, and aren’t thrown back up like in the first world. In my third world I want an outlet, a place where I can just say everything I want to and get it all out so it’s not just rotting in my mind, but the people who hear it just listen to it, without liking me or disliking me for it. There will also be no real reaction for my world because whatever happens from this is still just in my imagination so it’s all fake, and that gives me confidence and strength. As pathetic as it is, I want to handle real world obstacles but without real world consequences, and I guess my escape from that is my little psycho third world.
The only concrete thing about my third world is that there is nothing concrete, and all of the “maybes” I used depict that. Maybe this is my third world itself, because I hate concrete things; I hate having to pick one thing to describe something, like a favorite of anything for example. Knowing that I can have one thing I don’t need to make decisions about and don’t need to point to and say “this is what is in my third world” is comforting to me; so in my own weird undeveloped third world, I am still finding some comfort. Can’t I just have one thing to myself where I don’t need to freakishly think about, don’t need to imagine all of the possibilities and create them? I can just sit by and let them flow through my mind and then out. The door to my third world from my first world has yet to be opened, but another door in my third world is completely opened; everything is free to flow through it, and everything is free to flow out of it. I won’t exclude any possibilities from it, because I subconsciously just let them be, and nothing else.
It wouldn’t surprise me if my third world doesn’t make sense to you, but it doesn’t need to, and it probably shouldn’t. It makes sense to me, and that’s all that matters, because it’s not anyone else’s third world.
We’re all individuals, all of our imaginations are different, therefore all of our third worlds are different and no one completely understands them. Maybe in that sense, by confusing everyone, I’ve created my third world. I’ve created an untouchable, ungraspable (is this even a word? Well, in my third world it is) thing for everyone else. That might sound stupid and selfish, but it’s true. I don’t need to justify my third world to anyone, because they will never experience it. This whole entry is seemingly endless, unorganized rambling, but even that is representative of the disorganized state of my third world.
So…with that said, I think this should be the end. I already look like enough of a nut job already. A nut job who writes entries that are too long.
At the end of this entry, I was left feeling a bit disappointed. I wish I could find a way to put this connection I'm writing about here into more powerful words that really do it justice:
I may lack eyes on my hands in a literal sense, but in a few ways I can see with my hands. More importantly I can create with my hands. My hands are just accessories to my body, a part that one could live without if necessary. Although, I feel like I could never live without my hands and that there are times when I feel that my hands are more connected with my brain and my mind than my voice (mouth) is. I believe it is through my hands that I reach my third world.
Instruments have always come easy to me. Obviously my main instrument is guitar, but in the past few years of my life, I have taught myself to play bass, piano, drums, and trumpet. I can probably pick up any instrument and be able to understand and use that instrument within a matter of weeks. I do not mean to sound like I am bragging, because I am not. In fact, I probably owe this skill to my grandfather, who is more musically talented than I will ever be.
I've been playing guitar for years and writing music for just as many. My third world is the way that I am able to creatively express myself through my instrument. When I pick up my guitar and play, I do not think about what I am playing, it is as if my fingers move themselves. All that I do is sit back and hear the sound that pours out of my amplifier. When I play something that sounds especially good, I either write it down, record it, or play it more. I take in the music of my favorite artists and combine it with my unique playing style to create something beautiful and pleasing to me. Guitar is not my third world, but rather the things that I am able to accomplish with a guitar in my hands is my third world. It is my escape, it is a source of pleasure, and it is a way for me to take what is in my head and turn them into something much more tangible.
I always read interviews with other guitarists and hear them talk about how their guitar speaks when they play it and how they are able to connect to emotions that are more specific to them than just the normal "happy, sad, mad" spectrum. Guitar serves as a therapeutic device for me. If I have a bad day, the first thing I do is go home and play guitar and if I have a good day, I do the exact same thing. I enter the third world when I pick up my guitar and flip the switch to my amplifier. I do not concentration where my fingers are moving on the neck, but I concentration on those emotions, thoughts, and sounds shooting through my head. I connect with my mind and I turn my abstract thoughts into the reality of music. My fingers are my paintbrush, they are my voice, and they are my mind. With my fingers I can express myself much better than I can with my voice. I do not have to create my own third world because that world already exists, I just do not think of it by that name. My third world blooms and flourishes from my passion of music. It is when I combine the music that I listen to with my ability to create music that I achive that third world.
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I'm not even sure if I understand this yet but I'll give it a shot.
I don't think one can even construct a third world without seeing for yourself what you get when you go into your mind. I mean these third worlds consist of our fears and things we don't want to deal with and I don't want to have to create a world where I have to deal with a bunch clowns and rapists. Personally, I'd rather stay in this world, where I can try to avoid them. I think third worlds are like dreams. I know I can control my dreams and that's what I picture a third world to be. A place where I can't predict where I'm going to end up but once I get there I can control what happens. The idea that I'm subconsciously creating it but I'm not at the same time, I don't know I'm creating a place where my fears come out and I have to deal with things I don't want to because I think if we did make it consciously we wouldn't make it full of our fears. We'd fill the world with pink ponies and rainbows. There are things that at moments when they are happening I wish they weren't but in the end it's for the best. I know that happened when my parents got divorced last year. At the time, I wish I could have gone to a different world where it all wasn't happening and I could escape it all but now that it's over I see it was all for the best and it made all of our lives happier. But in third worlds, we aren't just faced with things we want to happen; we are faced with fears like nightmares. Some of my worst nightmares are my biggest fears and even if I can wake up, it's still there, it still happened just like when you entered that third world, you can escape what's going on but the thought and what happened is still there. I just don't think if the third world is our imagination and whatever we want it to be, we would all be like Pan and create a monster. There has to be a submission and we have to let go and not "construct" it but let our minds without our control and filter, pulling out all the bad stuff to make a perfect world, and let it be a world where we face things to help us grow and if we get too scared we can escape. In the movie, if Pan really wanted to get over her fear represented by the monster she would have killed him with the knife (kind of graphic but true) and if I wanted to face my fear of kidnappers and rapists when I dreamed about it I would take over, get out and save myself. However, we are too scared to face our fears and the fact that we can control the third world makes it almost impossible to get over what holds us back in the real world. The only way to get over them is to face them in the real world and deal with them then. There's no point to dealing with them in the third world because we always run away. No matter what we do, we will draw a box or wake up. I just think there's no way for us to say what our third world would be because of course I'm going to say well it would never be completely dark, clowns wouldn't exist, it would never rain and rapists would be gone but it's not until we actually go there that we can describe it and I don't even think we are really constructing it. It's our subconciousness (is that a word?) creating it. That's why it reminds me of dreams or nightmares because dreams come from things going on in our lives, fears, things we've seen on TV and who else knows. I mean last night I dreamed I was pregnant and believe me if I had to construct a third world that would definitely not happen at all, at any point. No, No, No. But somehow, it was on my mind so when I let go of the control of my mind, it was produced, the way a third world is. We can control what happens once we are there as much as we want but we can't control where we go because it's not our awareness that gets us there, it's the stuff in the back of our minds that we try not to think about but when we are asleep and have no control, it comes out. I know you may have been expecting us to write a legit world, but I just can't do that because it wouldn't be what my third world really was, it'd be a lie I created not to deal with the things I don't want to face but I will face in the third world and I can't even begin to tell you what would happen because even I don't know till I get there and have experienced it for myself.
Again, I'm not even sure if thus is what you wanted but I just let it go and just wrote.
Ok, so what I understood from this is that you want us to create a our own third world. Well, I'd say my third world is writing. Writing is an escape and a tool; it's snapshots of our time spent in the labyrinth. And truthfully, I think we’ll always be in that labyrinth, and we should enjoy it. In Funes, His Memory, Borges writes: “With one quick look, you and I perceive three wineglasses on a table; Funes perceived every grape that had been pressed into the wine and all the stalks and tendrils of its vineyard.” Viewing the wineglass refers to recognizing only the destination, while viewing all the supporting parts refers to seeing the journey that leads to that destination.
In our culture, it is often destinations that gain importance. The whole saying “the end justifies the means” supports this, because it’s basically like saying “Do whatever the heck you want! Walk all over people, cheat, scheme up every demonic plan that works to your advantage- as long as it gets you an award.” In the end, it’s these titles that summarize our lives. People die as their ultimate achievement and/or their profession. Think of Heath Ledger, he is now remembered as “Heath Ledger, the Actor (or to the less intellectually endowed people, as “the Hot Guy”), but no one speaks of the many other facets of the deceased. In his death, we’ve also lost Heath Ledger, the thinker, breather, our fellow wanderer in the labyrinth. This applies to all who have passed, I just used Ledger since I’m reacquainted with his death every time I open up my internet browser.
The point is that our labyrinth, our third world, is what keeps us going. It’s a boundary we’re confined to, but only in the sense that it is a product of time. While we’re still alive, the labyrinth is the closest we will ever get to total freedom (and it comes pretty darn close). Crash too violently into a wall or try and escape the labyrinth and I doubt you’ll like what you see. One step outside and you’re staring at a six foot ditch, with a wooden rectangular chest lying neatly at the bottom.
Now, this is an example of a third world I’ve created. It’s my own personal snapshot of words. Reading it allows me to revive the legions of memories slowly wilting inside of me; it allows me to wander, at least mentally, back into that moment of the labyrinth. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but in my mind, it’s the words that are worth a thousand pictures. Show me an actual photograph and I’ll see what was happening at that time, maybe I’ll get a little nostalgic of how I felt. But let me read something and I’ll become enveloped in that time, and I’ll see the life of who I was in that moment (because we’re all ever-evolving). A glossy 3 by 5 of a staged smile is replaced with a concentrated dose of emotion- a little scoop out of someone’s mind. This, for me, is a Kodak moment:
We lingered in the air of a disintegrating summer
Our newly bought shoes hiding tired, tan toes
Teenage angst tried its hardest to contain our excitement
Routine laziness sought to overstay its welcome
We were surrounded by faces that had been absent for three months
We were surrounded by prospect and expectations of the new year
As the air gradually cooled, we gradually warmed up
Jackets replaced bare arms and scarves made cameos
First impressions gave rise to lasting reputations
Enthusiastic diligence shrunk into careless procrastination
The scent of cool, dry wind enveloped our fading green fields
The resonant bell certified that June was nowhere near
Then the ground vanished beneath a clean coating of white
We nearly lost our bodies under cloth layers of warmth
Personalities fought hard to counter the dismal landscape
Too often they fell into the season’s depressing trap
Still, friendships were formed over polished wooden planks
Potential friendships seemed possible in the months that remained
Finally, winter submitted to the subtly rising heat
Toes reemerged, their shade now akin to that of the melted snow
Our attention spans had prematurely burned out
But we devoted ourselves dually to impatience and anticipation
Standing on the same verdant plane, our friendship had yet to flourish
Optimism was only a mask, covering everyone’s substantial doubt
Soon we will be reacquainted with the warm summer air
Our dress code of collars and khakis will be traded for cutoffs
Forthcoming freedom is vast, and as vicious as the nearby Atlantic
Too much of what’s been built these nine months will weaken and collapse
We’ll conceal it with happiness, as we have no choice but to be carefree
I can’t let myself complain; I allowed you to get away
Ok, I have no Idea what I am supposed to do, at the same time I do, but I am afraid of being wrong because of all of the brain washing I have had at this school.
So the third world, if it is like dreams like Sasha said, then I know what she means. You too Mr. K. in class today, I knew exactly what you were talking about. I do take control in my dreams.
The best example I think is in this dream I had, I was in my house having a French class with my 2nd grade French teacher, and then all of a sudden all of the students left and ran away because there was a killer outside. So I went outside, and there was a killer and a policeman shooting at each other. The killer was behind the tree, and the policeman was behind the mattress, and he was using it as a shield. So I went behind the mattress with the policeman to get help, only the killer shot me through the mattress. Naturally a mattress can't stop a bullet. But the weird part was that I actually physically felt the shot enter my side, and it hurt so much that I woke up and sat up, realizing that I wasn't actually shot even though I felt like I had been. Then I got really angry! HOW dare he shoot me! I got so angry that I fell asleep and went right back into that dream. Suddenly I was there again behind that mattress, and I was bleeding. I looked at my other hand (the one not holding my side to keep the blood from coming out) and there was an AK-47 in my hand. I snuck through the woods around my neighborhood until I was behind that killer, who was preoccupied with shooting at the police man. And then I shot him right in the back of the head.
So… I guess this dream is symbolic of how I acted afterward… I have changed since then. In a way, I had been shot in the side by someone a while before having that dream… since then I've fought through the pain… and I shot back. (no I didn't kill someone, I'm being metaphorical). So this dream from the third world helped me overcome the pain that I had been feeling in this world, and let me fight back. My own creation from the third world changed the way I act and think. Because before I had the dream, I was just wallowing in my pain and feeling sorry for myself… that dream showed me my AK-47, my strength to act and to do what I had to do. This is how I saw through my hands. I realized what I needed to do through my creation, and that by hiding behind the mattress, I would get shot. Now if some idiot thinks they can shoot me, they better watch out. (let me stress, there was no physical violence involved, and I don't have a gun, and I'm not planning on shooting anyone in the back of the head anytime soon… on a literal level that is.)
I’m not quite sure how to approach this so, here goes?
My “third world” is what I do and who I am.
I think
I laugh
I cry
I play
I hurt
I comfort
I communicate
I shutout
I create
I destroy
I ignore
I observe
I understand
I complicate
I believe
I deny
I judge
I am a friend, an enemy, a dancer, a camp counselor, and a Jenga enthusiast. I am too hard on myself, I take everything too personally, I am anxious, and I am obsessive compulsive. I am motivated but easily discouraged. I am awkward. I am terrified of snakes. Clowns, the word moist, and worms, all give me the heebie-jeebies. I snap my shoulder socket when I am nervous, which is all of the time. I can only turn my car off when the time shows an even number. I can only go to bed when my clock shows an even number. I always make sure that I have an even number of words when I write these blogs. I do just about everything in twos. I love to choreograph dances but I don’t always feel comfortable sharing them with other people. I am scared of rejection. I am constantly worrying about the past and future, never thinking of the present. I am a jealous person. I don’t care what other people think about me, but that is a lie. My summers are spent at camp. It is the place, the experience, the people, where I get my confidence. Without it, I would feel extremely empty. If I could, I would spend all of my summers there to come. I don’t want to grow up just yet. I listen and comfort those who come to me. Sometimes I snap and I can’t listen or comfort any longer. But, then I feel guilty if I am not helping others. I don’t have enough time to myself. I am a role model. I am a self-proclaimed “free spirit”.
This is my “third world”. This is who I am, take it or leave it.
So I read this question like Hannah did…
My third world is my imagination, which is filled with my fears and my insecurities and also happiness’s. My world would burst probably first with spiders because they creep me out and then it would probably be filled with things that I wish I could change about myself but I can’t because it’s who I am. I’m a super jealous person and I tend to hold grudges and I wish I didn’t but I do. It would also probably be filled with teachers because they will make or break your future. Whether or not we choose to believe it grades matter and people do care what grades you get, especially colleges. Therefore teachers are a little scary for me right now because I know that they could change me going to my top choice school or YCCC (no offence). I know that my third world contain my biggest secrets and my biggest regrets; they still kind of haunt me even if they were like 5 years ago. I don’t let go easily so I think that that would be there too. But over all of it I think that my ‘happy place’ would be there. I grew up at my dad’s hotel, I know that the hotel is like a second home to me and some of the employees are like family. In my third would I would probably be at the York Harbor beach next to the hotel that I’ve grown up with. That’s where I feel content and where the spiders and the worries and burdens of life will wash away.
I think that my third world is unique but I also want to point out that all of us in the class have something in common whether we realize we have it or not and all of our worlds are going to consist of it. Therefore, we could all technically have the same third world…so could this world that we are living in be everyone’s third world? Is there a third world of imagination or is this world filled with imagination and as we grow up we loose this imagination because society tells us. Have we lost our opportunity in this third world and we just need to go back and grasp it?
See using your hands... that makes me think not of literal seeing with your eyes but seeing as in experiencing. Don't just watch something happen, but be a part of it. By being a part of something one can adventure and in turn discover who they are through actions and thoughts.
For example, I can see hockey on TV or go watch it at the rink. But I never truly 'saw' and experienced the game to discover it till I began playing in first grade. Through the game I then discovered some of my inner self. I am aggressive, annoying, apparently a... word I shouldn't post on the blog, and determined - these are only a few things I learned about myself through hockey. Over the years I developed a great dedication to the sport. My third world has been shaped by the life of dedication to the sport, how I've grown up with having two parents which both work for state law enforcement, and having a very close extended family on my mom's side. Two deaths have come into play so far during my life which have strengthened me more than I ever expected and yet weakened me also (part of life's contradictions). I've been able to overcome a fear of heights by gaining a love for roller coasters... yet I still remain the only person I know who closes their eyes on the way up and opens them once the coaster has reached its peak and heads for downfall.
The ability to challenge the unknown and feel through the rough spots of life creates the third world. Discovering who you are and the realization of that only enhance this world and make it more livable (is that even a word?). Imagination and creativity personalize the world so that it is true to the individual. Third worlds are like fingerprints, unique to those who create them and influenced by those who created the individual to whom the third world belongs.
Hopefully some of this makes sense.
I think one way to enter into the third world is through writing--any form. So, I decided to write a story. Here it goes...
Arden raised the blue chip to her eyes and carefully examined its surface. At a closer look, she noticed that it was inlayed with feint ridges, diverging and converging in a countless number of interconnected paths. She was amazed that an entire experience could be contained beneath the chip’s blue surface, no bigger than the size of a thumbtack. Arden then pressed the chip against an indent in her frontal lobe and held it there for a few seconds. She heard the familiar clicking noise, as she felt her mind begin to shift into the memory.
At first, the scene in front of her appeared to be covered in a thick layer of fog. She could scarcely make out a vague outline of what lay before her, but within a few minutes the images gained clarity and her surroundings became as vivid as her previous her reality. She came to see that she was sitting by herself, looking out at the ocean, and observing each crest as it inevitably would break and then fall. A cool tingling feeling rose up her leg, as the water lapsed at her feet and slowly ate away at the land beneath her. The wind mixed with the spray of the sea beat against her face and whipped her hair in every direction. In the distance she could hear children laughing and screaming in high-pitched voices, mingled with the mundane chat of their parents.
All of sudden Arden experienced a sharp pain in her shoulder blade, as she felt herself pushed forward towards the ground. She instinctively reached her hands in front of her, yet they were unable to sustain her weight and folded beneath her, her head crashing against the floor.
The vision of the ocean began to slowly fade into the image of her brother, James, standing above her, holding the blue chip in his hand. Before she could say anything, he began talking rapidly, his cheeks growing red. “Arden. I told you last night that I wanted this memory. I’ve never experienced the beach before, and it’s not fair that you always get to.”
Arden stared at him with a vacant look in her eyes. It was hard for her to comprehend what he was saying, after being shaken from the memory and forced to abruptly transition back into reality. She then replied cooly, “James, relax. It’s just a memory. It’s not real.”
A heated anger swept over his face. “Not real? How can you say it’s not real! If it’s in your mind, does that mean it’s not real? ” He paused for breath then continued, “Besides, watching all these memories are what make you who you are. Does that mean you’re not real?”
Arden stared at him with a fixed gaze. “Well, James, you’ve clearly been watching the wrong memories, because look how you’ve turned out.”
James pretended he didn’t hear Arden’s insult, as he pressed the chip to the sunken spot in his frontal lobe and closed his eyes to the scene before him.
Arden then felt a vibration in her pocket, and pulled out her Clipin. She clicked “activate” as a pulsing feeling ran up her arm. The image of her mother conceptualized in her mind. “Arden, honey, I just ordered some new memories for you for school. They sound interesting..there’s one on World War III, and a few chemistry lessons. All right, bye, hun. I’ll be home soon.” Arden deactivated the Clipin, and turned towards the memory cabinet. She began to aimlessly sift through the various files of memories. The words of her brother, which she had earlier rejected, began to sink in. All she is, is just recycled memories from the past. She has complete control over who she wants to be by simply selecting the right memory chips.
To be continued…
A third world- we decided in class that it is what is in our heads.(or maybe what needs to be written?)The first part of my third world comes from hallucinations or dreams that we can control to an extent. I’m sure the rest of the ideas develop in our subliminal mind where we have no control what so ever. Dreams that we have at night for example are part of my third world. I have had dreams of being chased to the top of a building and having to look off the edge … right when I get ready to fly off my conscience takes control and I wake up in a panic before anything too intense goes down. Not to say that I don’t have crazy dreams; I just know I do have control over them when I am completely unconscious. The third world is not only made up of dreams, but also the past.
As learning growing humans, we have cumulative knowledge. If we didn’t, each day would be new for us and we would have no foundation to out past, present or future. Like babies, we would crawl around and speak gibberish. We would have a clean slate every day and no knowledge of the past. Because we don’t live like that, we are not completely unique or set apart from the people who came before us. We can never come up with an idea that isn’t partially branched from another idea that has been thought about previously. It is difficult to think about but it is how we learn and progress. Based on this conclusion, I believe that our thoughts and ideas come from our experiences so the second part of the third world is our experiences.
The third part of my third world is the unknown. Most of us are afraid of the unknown or afraid of something that has to do with the unknown. For example some people are afraid of the dark, well they aren’t really afraid of the dark, just what may be in the dark. The unknown. So if I mix dreams, thoughts and ideas based on experiences and the unknown together, I get my third world. That is everything that is in my imagination…anything that I can think of comes from one of those main ideas.
I don't know what to say. I feel as if I'd just be bring up again what was said in class. Even though I agree with it, I feel repeating it wouldn't be a very third-worldly thing to do. Unless this is what the third world is? Just a fusion of the world around you with what you see on CNN? In that case wouldn't it just be the embodiment of society? Can there be any true individuality in it? I think the third world is the world we lived as children. Innocent, unknowing children uncorrupted by society and education. That world children live in is our third world. True, it is still a world of imagination, but but its pure imagination not influenced by what we have been brainwashed since kindergarten or the evil of the world or "reality" or "unreality". A mixture of worlds, no. Its own completely separate world. It has to be. I think the only way to find the world is to get rid of the first two. It's not an addition problem, but subtraction. Your society - the world = Third world.
Someone said today in Humanities (heh), what if we were born without any senses, like couldn't see or hear or touch or smell. I think this is the third world. Its hard to even fathom what this means. Complete darkness, silence, nothing. How boring, or is it? Because one thing that you'll always have is your mind and just because you can't see doesn't mean you can't see. I mean it must be fascinating to see what you'd create. What creatures would u create when completely unaware of our reality? They wouldn't be anything like Pan's Labryinth because you wouldn't know what eyes are or hands or teeth or anything. There wouldn't be dragons or witches or goblins or trolls, these are all society's creatures. It would be complete, total, unobstructed imagination. One beautiful dream. Thats what i think the third world is.
I’m not trying to denounce this topic here, but as I write about my third world, I don’t see how this is creating one at all, and I don’t think that I am, I am creating an image of it. I feel held up by this wall, the wall we talked about that separates action from thought. I feel like I need to turn this imagination that only exists in thought in to an action, that of experiencing this imagination. This makes me think that my own third world is in the building processes, so it’s not my third world; instead it is only my first world. Saying all of the things I’ve said before about combining the two worlds to make a third now seems like bull, because I can’t picture my world consisting of something I don’t know, like my second world, so I only have my own experiences to create this thought process. So my third world is my first world, or possibly just a child of my first world. It needs to grow up, mature, and discover its identity.
If I see with my hands, then everything I “see” is simply an outline, and I can only grasp the borders of them. This is true for my third world. I can pick things I think are in there, and I can form the general outline, general equation of what it is, but until I experience it, I can’t shade in what’s inside this outline; I cannot solve this equation. I can’t consciously create a third world; I have to subconsciously do it then experience it, making it my first world. If I just think about it and then create it, I’m not doing it justice and not really creating the true third world of mine.
When we consciously create a third world, we are making a rough draft. Only when that world basically creates itself in your mind, not you creating it, is it a final draft. I know if I made my world consciously I wouldn’t necessarily make it like CareALot and jump on clouds shooting love through the CareBear stare, and I would include some not-so-good things. I need to learn and gain something from my third world, and I have to have some problems so I can grow, so that my physical being and mind are always evolving. That’s why I can’t just say “this is what’s in my third world”, because that to me makes it permanent, trapped and stuck in there not able to move. I need to do justice to my first world by fully grasping certain experiences, before I can jump and create another world, because I need those fully grasped experiences to make my third world. So even though my third world sucks, can anyone say it’s wrong? Not that I will care, but I don’t see how anyone can call my third world wrong, because it is a reflection of my thoughts and my first world, and me. I’m not fully developed mentally; my mind is clouded by random things running through it constantly, no order to it. This just creates a clump of blaaaah, so my third world is this space, this clump of blaaah. So this is the reflection of me, I am just “blah”, but at least I admit it I guess. I’m a mess, my mind is a mess, so my third world can’t be defined without it being a complete mess, because I can’t reflect in a new world on something that I can’t grasp in my first world. My third world has to be true to myself, and I’m not certain of anything, I don’t know myself. One of the only ways I know how to give justice to my third world is to not fully create it.
I commend people who can draw the door that opens them to their third world, because that represents something, just being able to do that. Right now I’m not at that point; I have the chalk in my hand, but I can’t get myself to draw anything. It could be that I can’t get myself to do it, or maybe I’m not letting myself, but right now those lines are blurred and it’s all the same to me.
My third world is where I have the power to do what I want, say what I feel, etc. without fear of repercussions. Even though my third world isn’t ideal, and in this world I will say something dumb and get in trouble for it, but that trouble I’m experiencing isn’t real, it’s still imaginary trouble. I will never be able to implement this in to my first world, I’m too scared, too weak, too something, so I just can’t. Still, I want to vaporize my problems from something real to something unreal. The first world is the only true world I will ever be able to live in, so I want to learn to fight the creator of this world, piss them off by doing what I want, by dumping heaps of “thirdworldness” into it, and thus eliminating the reality of these problems.
In my third world I will be able to explain everything I want: to tell people how I hate being judged, but I judge, how I hate that there’s so much more to me than what people think and they don’t really understand me, but that I also want some things to remain secret and I don’t want to be completely understood. In this third world of mine my contradictions are ingested, and aren’t thrown back up like in the first world. In my third world I want an outlet, a place where I can just say everything I want to and get it all out so it’s not just rotting in my mind, but the people who hear it just listen to it, without liking me or disliking me for it. There will also be no real reaction for my world because whatever happens from this is still just in my imagination so it’s all fake, and that gives me confidence and strength. As pathetic as it is, I want to handle real world obstacles but without real world consequences, and I guess my escape from that is my little psycho third world.
The only concrete thing about my third world is that there is nothing concrete, and all of the “maybes” I used depict that. Maybe this is my third world itself, because I hate concrete things; I hate having to pick one thing to describe something, like a favorite of anything for example. Knowing that I can have one thing I don’t need to make decisions about and don’t need to point to and say “this is what is in my third world” is comforting to me; so in my own weird undeveloped third world, I am still finding some comfort. Can’t I just have one thing to myself where I don’t need to freakishly think about, don’t need to imagine all of the possibilities and create them? I can just sit by and let them flow through my mind and then out. The door to my third world from my first world has yet to be opened, but another door in my third world is completely opened; everything is free to flow through it, and everything is free to flow out of it. I won’t exclude any possibilities from it, because I subconsciously just let them be, and nothing else.
It wouldn’t surprise me if my third world doesn’t make sense to you, but it doesn’t need to, and it probably shouldn’t. It makes sense to me, and that’s all that matters, because it’s not anyone else’s third world.
We’re all individuals, all of our imaginations are different, therefore all of our third worlds are different and no one completely understands them. Maybe in that sense, by confusing everyone, I’ve created my third world. I’ve created an untouchable, ungraspable (is this even a word? Well, in my third world it is) thing for everyone else. That might sound stupid and selfish, but it’s true. I don’t need to justify my third world to anyone, because they will never experience it. This whole entry is seemingly endless, unorganized rambling, but even that is representative of the disorganized state of my third world.
So…with that said, I think this should be the end. I already look like enough of a nut job already. A nut job who writes entries that are too long.
At the end of this entry, I was left feeling a bit disappointed. I wish I could find a way to put this connection I'm writing about here into more powerful words that really do it justice:
I may lack eyes on my hands in a literal sense, but in a few ways I can see with my hands. More importantly I can create with my hands. My hands are just accessories to my body,
a part that one could live without if necessary. Although, I feel like I could never live without my hands and that there are times when I feel that my hands are more connected with my brain and my mind than my voice (mouth) is. I believe it is through my hands that I reach my third world.
Instruments have always come easy to me. Obviously my main instrument is guitar, but in the past few years of my life, I have taught myself to play bass, piano, drums, and trumpet. I can probably pick up any instrument and be able to understand and use that instrument within a matter of weeks. I do not mean to sound like I am bragging, because I am not. In fact, I probably owe this skill to my grandfather, who is more musically talented than I will ever be.
I've been playing guitar for years and writing music for just as many. My third world is the way that I am able to creatively express myself through my instrument. When I pick up my guitar and play, I do not think about what I am playing, it is as if my fingers move themselves. All that I do is sit back and hear the sound that pours out of my amplifier. When I play something that sounds especially good, I either write it down, record it, or play it more. I take in the music of my favorite artists and combine it with my unique playing style to create something beautiful and pleasing to me. Guitar is not my third world, but rather the things that I am able to accomplish with a guitar in my hands is my third world. It is my escape, it is a source of pleasure, and it is a way for me to take what is in my head and turn them into something much more tangible.
I always read interviews with other guitarists and hear them talk about how their guitar speaks when they play it and how they are able to connect to emotions that are more specific to them than just the normal "happy, sad, mad" spectrum. Guitar serves as a therapeutic device for me. If I have a bad day, the first thing I do is go home and play guitar and if I have a good day, I do the exact same thing. I enter the third world when I pick up my guitar and flip the switch to my amplifier. I do not concentration where my fingers are moving on the neck, but I concentration on those emotions, thoughts, and sounds shooting through my head. I connect with my mind and I turn my abstract thoughts into the reality of music. My fingers are my paintbrush, they are my voice, and they are my mind. With my fingers I can express myself much better than I can with my voice. I do not have to create my own third world because that world already exists, I just do not think of it by that name. My third world blooms and flourishes from my passion of music. It is when I combine the music that I listen to with my ability to create music that I achive that third world.
I made something for this blog entry last night that was not dry this morning to bring in, but I will have it tomorrow.
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