Carbon Copy

Every human is given a massive unwritten list of every single basic rights that they are entitled to; the right to vote, dream, do what they want as long as it's legal, be who they want to be.... The list is virtually endless.
But there isn't a proper official  list for everything. There's the list that the United Nations wrote (Declaration of Human Rights), and it covers stuff like freedom of religion and slavery... which are still works in progress.

What the UN failed to add to that list of priorities is that every human being has the right to being an individual; it's a freedom given to us at birth and should never be mocked by others with the same right. And one thing that the UN should really add as a footnote (after adding the right of individuality to the list) is that the individual is entitled to be what they are, without anyone else turning their own individual persona into that of another.
In other words; it should be a violation of a basic human right if someone changes their personality to act almost exactly like another person.
But because that right isn't globally recognised as official, punishment cannot be enforced and the plague of Personality Imitation Suckiness Symptoms (PISS) will haunt the minds of many until the day comes when people recognise my made-up diseases for what they are; legitimate.
And the only cure for PISS?

Well, there's no real cure when it comes to psychological illnesses (I think...) but there is a prevention method; allow people without individual personalities to be arrested and told to change their evil ways.
Because what they do isn't something to be taken lightly. It's a very sad day when a soul that was designed to be an individual becomes a carbon copy of someone else; another soul that was made original.
And it's also quite scary too in certain cases. There are people out there who reflect the personality of a colleague/friend/family member/significant person so well that the resemblance borders on uncanny. It's like science-fiction cloning, but with less intricate duplication procedures. The physical appearance has changed, but the mannerisms and personality are ridiculously in sync/identical.

Many have said (my mother especially) that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And that may be true in some situations, but what of the others? Are people so desperate for things like attention, acceptance and a change of entire self that they are willing to be Social Water*, without the vitality to the plants around us?
The answer is yes, unfortunately. People can be driven by forces greater than physical entities. The desires to be accepted or to have attention, can be forces greater than the one in Star Wars. And when they get out of hand, the result is PISS in those around them and those they imitate. Symptoms include, but are not limited to:

• Frustration
• Longing for things to be normal/the way they used to 
• Wishes to get away from the cause 

If you suffer from PISS in any way at all, then there is little you can really do without causing some form of damage (mental, physical, emotional, social.... even environmental!), but you have to know that change is needed. You will go insane otherwise. 

Bite the bullet and put a stop to what your carbon copy is doing. But be gentle about it. 

And if you're one of those people who actually enjoys the thought of having their own neo-clone, then you need to still bite the bullet. While you might like being such a superlative influence, you're actually damaging them by letting them keep calm and carry on being another you. 

~

In other news, I'm temporarily back to blogging! Posts may not be frequent, and you and I both know that they'll never always be good, but I've missed this, and the break was too long. Plus I was in an exceptionally good mood and this is just the sprinkles on top.

Stay tuned, thank you, good night and may the force be with you.

*see a post I made earlier called 'The Social Botany Scale', it also deals with elements of social science and why the human race is like a greenhouse of plants.

Potential Hiatus...

I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I haven't really been making posts for quite a while. And for months, I haven't been making posts of the greatest quality.
What must be done, but with agony, will be done.

Definite hiatus...

Two words I hoped never to write, let alone think of, have now been stitched into the fabric of time. The future for this blog has been affected.
And on behalf of the team that made the decision to go on hiatus (at least until further notice or until I think of something good), I'm gravely sorry. If it were not for my lack of interesting stuff to write about, as well as schoolwork/procrastinations, then the inevitable wouldn't have happened.

But it has. Things are getting somewhat stale, and I don't have it in me to write a post every week because I HAVE to.
It's mutually more enjoyable if it's a post that isn't scraped off the side of my brain (that was a shocking metaphor), and if it isn't one I've had to force myself to write.

Because I read a quote the other day that's since struck a chord: Everything you do is either leading you away from the masses or leading you away with the masses. 
And after little deliberation, I decided it's not fun being seperated from the masses, and seperation seems to happen when the posts are forced.

So until I can come up with something that's actually good; no posts shall be made.
If you have any suggestions though, or any comments, they would be appreciated.

(Please don't assume that this is the end of the blog. One day, it'll be back. Until then, here's a poem I found to prove how un-dead it is. But please don't close this page and look out the window at the weather outside and expect to see this blog.)

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift, uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there, I did not die.

Well, we're not dead yet. Just on life support.

The Graveyard Post

It's extremely difficult to come up with an interesting post when bugger all seems to have happened in two worlds; my own and this big one.

When there seems to be little point in discussing my newfound Merlin addiction or the crisis in Syria, what else is one to do, but stare at the computer screen with a zombie face?

(Hypothetically, I could make some headway on Season 5, but I've suffered enough television)

Random topic generator? 

Too stale. 

BBC News feed?

Nothing of captivating interest.

Really, it sometimes does seem as if writers block is more intolerable than HIV. And when you're surrounded by too much familiarity, inspiration is then hard to find. 

So in essence, you're trapped in a mental graveyard, where everything's quiet and lifeless. 

Or maybe it's a mental library, where any desire to provoke thoughts is met with an instant "SHUSH!"

Wherever you're mentally trapped, it's always boring. Even if you're in the mental library, there's nothing good to read except for the phonebooks or the Twilight saga. And that's only incentive to blow up the library. 

So with nothing else to provide, and not much else to say; I will end today's post (with its high levels of dullness) with something I decided to work on a while ago. It's the first part to a short story I felt like writing, and even though I haven't touched it for weeks, it'd be great to know what you all think of it. Plus it was written in the days when writer's block wasn't so crippling, so who knows? Read it and let me know what you think. 

(Just in case you were wondering; this is intended to be a murder mystery)

The lager made Lucy’s throat clench. Alcohol had never been something she enjoyed; she couldn’t even accept Communion wine without her mouth puckering in advanced disgust. Yet she continued to swallow this vile stuff down until it was confiscated.

“Careful Luce; this stuff’ll do your head in” cautioned the boy.

“Sorry.”

She did not know his name. He was just some boy that had been at the same party she was attending. While the makeshift “dance floor” had been a mutual meeting ground for many new couples tonight, Lucy knew nothing of this boy. And yet he knew her name, and names were always a weapon when placed in the wrong hands.

“So what’s your name?”

The boy choked on his sip. “Ed.”

Lucy nodded in recognition and leant back against the front wall of the house. Ed proffered the last few mouthfuls of lager but her hand declined for the sake of better judgement. With the unspoken being said, he downed the remainder of the can. 

“So.....” he said.

“Hm?” 

“Do you... want to do anything?”

“Like what?” He snorted.

“You’re a bit innocent to all this; ain’t ya? You must be one of them private school girls...”

“Oh...” Ed turned to face her; a manic look in his eyes.

“Luce, you look really gorgeous for someone I only just met. And you know that we’ve gotta live while we’re young. So I suppose it’s only fair that I ask if you wanna snog.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but regardless; Ed pulled Lucy towards himself and kissed her. The alcohol on his breath was repulsive, but this new euphoric feeling was strangely wonderful to Lucy. Strange new feelings tingled through her nerves, and for a moment it was great.

His hands fell from her shoulders and stopped to where they shouldn’t. A slap echoed through the street. 

“What the hell Lucy?” roared Ed.

“I could ask the same of you. You disgust me.” She stormed away, ignoring the slurred curses. Perhaps it was now a good time to go home. What she’d say to her dad was yet to be coined, but something would come to mind. 

The effects of the lager began to kick in and her legs turned to jelly. The world tilted for a second, and then everything was normal. Lucy kept walking; she had £2 in her pocket and it jingled when she walked. The jingling must have alerted the whole estate, because soon the familiar bright lights of a bus appeared in front of her.