Fastcompany has launched a project titled The Influence Project. The goal of it is to see how influential individuals can be. I'm curious to see who will win it. My front-runners are Pete Cashmore, Brian Solis, and Guy Kawasaki. I personally hope that I can win, but that would be nothing short of a miracle hah. In the end, I just want to have fun with it, and see what sort of influence I can have. You can support me by clicking on this link. Thanks everyone, try it out, and have a blast! Also, leave a comment here and I'll support you. Who do you think will win?
Author: andyveilleux
same mistake
If I asked you,
would you make the same mistake,
or burn it all down?
A lonely phoenix
A lonely phoenix;
fire in the cold midnight sky,
a change of seasons.
Enjoyment of the now
Defeat and victory are temporary;
slight failures or successes,
in a doomed timeline called life.
Nothing is permanent,
attempts at legacy;
futile at best.
What does that leave for us?
Enjoyment of the 'now.'
So don't stress,
don't worry,
life's not meant,
to be taken seriously,
or to be at all permanent.
The soul sickness
I saw you yesterday,
over my shoulder,
in a vivid dream,
you were dead;
symbolism,
surely.
The soul sickness,
strikes at me again,
with it's weary eyes,
drained, dead face,
gangly, toxic hands.
Deadly,
overwhelming,
it eats me like fire,
my thoughts are ashes,
floating freely on the winds,
thick with change and new life.
The dead faces
Look around you,
at the dead faces;
hollowed-out eyes,
empty, open mouth;
broken visage of a human being,
far removed from their soul.
Satellites drifting,
in lifeless space,
occasionally banging,
against something,
occasionally, someone.
No connection,
no meaning,
no passion,
to be kindled.
The lost years,
in full swing.
Look around you,
at the dead faces.
New move
So it's official, I've officially moved into my new place. The problem as far as my blog is concerned; I don't have the internet until July 7th. I will try my best to update during that time, but you can expect that updates will be a bit more rare. Thanks for your patience, we'll talk soon!
Andy
feed me something real
There is a confidence problem,
people have too much,
or else, too little;
there are few in the happy medium.
People blanket themselves with pictures,
and get the same comments;
"so pretty"
"purrtttyy"
"damnn!"
"qt!! xox"
"hot! lol"
Don't you ever get bored of that?
Isn't there something more to communication,
than surface-level interactions meant to stroke,
each other's egos and need for acceptance?
Confidence is not relative to the size of a person's self-portrait galleries;
hordes of photos does not translate into high confidence,
in fact, the opposite may be closer to the reality;
who knows?
The base-level interactions worry me;
we now have the tools to unite behind common goods,
and we waste it uniting behind fake comments on good looks.
Sure,
you might be beautiful,
but I want you to offer me more;
I know,
I'm demanding.
Where is your essence;
the artistic photography,
the metaphysical poetry,
the social commentary,
the inspired music,
or philosophical comments?
Feed me something real,
not just pictures of how almost-naked you can be.
Twice bitten never shy
She's going to destroy you,
believe me.
Twice bitten,
never shy;
the words of youth or bravery,
somebody with an invulnerability complex,
or maybe all of the above.
I'm guilty,
to hell with the consequences,
there is no judgement coming,
save for self-judgement,
and the judgement of your peers,
and if you can't handle that yet,
you haven't really been living.
Watch out for the pessimists,
along with their poison words,
and the way they sap life from everything,
and give life to nothing.
Be optimistic,
I know life sucks,
but suck it up and move on,
that's the only way to be happy.
love of self
Insanity is an interesting follower;
it stalks you like thoughts of death,
or a jealous ex-lover on Facebook,
though less aggressive than the last.
There is no rush for death or insanity,
they will visit us all some day,
and when they sink their teeth in,
I imagine it's permanent.
Imagine something being permanent,
in this world where even love decays and hollows out,
and eternal is beyond comprehension.
Imagine love as it was meant to be,
romantic,
innocent,
unconditional,
we're not strong enough to love,
unless it's a love of self.
Look around you,
endless self-promotion,
meaningless back-patting,
and barely any words of meaning;
what do you think this poem is?
If we wish to fight against the growing distance,
between us and the people we could love,
we must first battle with ourselves,
and understand our failure.
We will look past our too-easily-hurt pride,
our limping-but-still-alive modesty,
or will we just see our powerful egos?
Will we change,
for the better?
Of course we won't,
but the thought is nice.
Andy Veilleux 