Survivalist Mentality.
I had a dream once. It consisted of primal instinct and human nature in an extreme circumstance of minimalist self-preservation in a natural environment. Finding tremendous gratitude in everyday discoveries and tiny rare luxuries. It was a lifestyle which yielded its own inspired comforts and major threats, and forged methods of contending with these unregulated occurences while entertaining the thought of true freedom. Unpredictable. Wild. Dangerous. The purpose of life there is to gather the necessities and survive another day physically unscathed. Blend into your immediate surroundings or face a certain unpleasant demise. Learn. Evolve. Live. Then I woke up.
It was more than a subconscious illusion. Creating my own comfort in harsh or otherwise unfavorable conditions has always been an unspoken passion. Even if I must create the personal conditions through which I must thrive by the creativity of survival in order to experience that feeling. A feeling of being alive and connected to this world.
I travel to a nearby location where I might acquire the means for living. I prepare my most used modern implements by turning on my work computer and picking up a pen on my desk. These will help me avoid the conflicts in this potentially dangerous environment. A friendly co-worker stops at my cubicle on the 3rd floor and asks me how I'm doing, to which my response is, "I'm getting by; I'm surviving." But am I really? Is filling out paperwork in a 3rd floor office 9 hours everyday in exchange for a moderate salary really living?
My attention is drawn to the tree outside my window as my mind wanders from the mundane task before me long enough for my boss to take notice and redirect my focus accordingly.
It was more than a subconscious illusion. Creating my own comfort in harsh or otherwise unfavorable conditions has always been an unspoken passion. Even if I must create the personal conditions through which I must thrive by the creativity of survival in order to experience that feeling. A feeling of being alive and connected to this world.
I travel to a nearby location where I might acquire the means for living. I prepare my most used modern implements by turning on my work computer and picking up a pen on my desk. These will help me avoid the conflicts in this potentially dangerous environment. A friendly co-worker stops at my cubicle on the 3rd floor and asks me how I'm doing, to which my response is, "I'm getting by; I'm surviving." But am I really? Is filling out paperwork in a 3rd floor office 9 hours everyday in exchange for a moderate salary really living?
My attention is drawn to the tree outside my window as my mind wanders from the mundane task before me long enough for my boss to take notice and redirect my focus accordingly.