Friday, March 1, 2013

Gateway of the Mind


In 1983, a team of deeply pious scientists conducted a radical experiment in an undisclosed facility. The scientists had theorized that a human without access to any senses or ways to perceive stimuli would be able to perceive the presence of God. They believed that the five senses clouded our awareness of eternity, and without them, a human could actually establish contact with God by thought. An elderly man who claimed to have “nothing left to live for” was the only test subject to volunteer. To purge him of all his senses, the scientists performed a complex operation in which every sensory nerve connection to the brain was surgically severed. Although the test subject retained full muscular function, he could not see, hear, taste, smell, or feel. With no possible way to communicate with or even sense the outside world, he was alone with his thoughts.
Scientists monitored him as he spoke aloud about his state of mind in jumbled, slurred sentences that he couldn't even hear. After four days, the man claimed to be hearing hushed, unintelligible voices in his head. Assuming it was an onset of psychosis, the scientists paid little attention to the man’s concerns.
Two days later, the man cried that he could hear his dead wife speaking with him, and even more, he could communicate back. The scientists were intrigued, but were not convinced until the subject started naming dead relatives of the scientists. He repeated personal information to the scientists that only their dead spouses and parents would have known. At this point, a sizable portion of scientists left the study.
After a week of conversing with the deceased through his thoughts, the subject became distressed, saying the voices were overwhelming. In every waking moment, his consciousness was bombarded by hundreds of voices that refused to leave him alone. He frequently threw himself against the wall, trying to elicit a pain response. He begged the scientists for sedatives, so he could escape the voices by sleeping. This tactic worked for three days, until he started having severe night terrors. The subject repeatedly said that he could see and hear the deceased in his dreams.
Only a day later, the subject began to scream and claw at his non-functional eyes, hoping to sense something in the physical world. The hysterical subject now said the voices of the dead were deafening and hostile, speaking of hell and the end of the world. At one point, he yelled “No heaven, no forgiveness” for five hours straight. He continually begged to be killed, but the scientists were convinced that he was close to establishing contact with God.
After another day, the subject could no longer form coherent sentences. Seemingly mad, he started to bite off chunks of flesh from his arm. The scientists rushed into the test chamber and restrained him to a table so he could not kill himself. After a few hours of being tied down, the subject halted his struggling and screaming. He stared blankly at the ceiling as teardrops silently streaked across his face. For two weeks, the subject had to be manually rehydrated due to the constant crying. Eventually, he turned his head and, despite his blindness, made focused eye contact with a scientist for the first time in the study. He whispered “I have spoken with God, and he has abandoned us” and his vital signs stopped. There was no apparent cause of death.
Note: I found this on tumblr the other day and I was so fascinated by this I just felt the need to share this with everyone. This post speaks to me on so many levels, I don't even have enough words to describe how true and just absolutely riveting this is. After I finished reading this, shivers just ran through my body because well I still can't stress enough how intriguing and perfect and valid this is!

Monday, February 25, 2013

Disease by Me

We live in a world of sickness
that doctors can not cure
The only remedy
lies beneath your inner soul
Nothing anyone says
can heal your heart's disease
Anything anyone does say
has the opportunity to expand
this plague
into an intangible holocaust.

~ Kimmie ~

Note: I think this is my best poem yet.. I hope you like it :)

Sunday, February 10, 2013

They Tell You To Be Independent by Me


They tell you to be independent
Yet they go ahead
and tell you what to do
They tell you it’s your choice
Yet they judge you
for your decision
They tell you to aim high
Yet they pull you down instead
They tell you to be happy
Yet make it impossible for you to smile
They tell you mistakes are meant to be made
Yet they admonish you
when you do something wrong
When can I live life on my own terms?
When the unsuccessful become successful?
When the ugly become pretty?
When the dumb become smart?
When the ordinary become unique?
When the living become dead?
Is it worth being a reflection of what they tell?

~ Kimmie ~

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Simply Infinite by Me

There's something
about long car rides,
gliding
on the smooth surface
while calm music plays
in the background,
that entrances me
and gives me
the blurry
illusion
of complacency.

~ Kimmie ~

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

If Grades Aren't Everything by Me

If grades aren't everything
Then why do I study so hard
Only to fail?

If looks aren't everything
Then why do I dress comfortably
Only to be judged?

If personality is everything
Then why do I try so hard
To be a better person
When everybody only cares about
My grades and how I look

~ Kimmie ~

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Partner In Crime? I Think Yes.

Okay so today I feel very very happy because I finally spoke to one of my best friends, from India, since like six months! It feels so good to finally catch up with her because I've missed her so so much! And she was one of those friends that moved to a different school before I left India altogether, so it was so hard to meet up with her because of our different and changing schedules. And, it's also hard to call her because of her sleeping schedules and of course the huge time difference.

But anyways, her name is Anvita. And I consider her my sister because we always act like sisters to each other. She became my first best friend ever when I moved to India and we just, I dunno, clicked I guess. We just have almost everything in common except for the fact that I'm not obsessed with Doctor Who, Avatar, and Legend of Kora (is that what it's called?).

But I haven't spoken to her in so long and I'm glad we finally spoke because I was really missing speaking to her and it was most definitely worth staying up till five am to speak to her. :)

I could go on and on about our momentous days together and how awesome she is and what great friends we've been but I don't want to bore you. And reminiscing will probably make me miss her more and possibly make me cry.

But I love her and she's my favorite bitch even though that's really cliché. <3

Monday, December 10, 2012

Fate By Photographs

My dad would always tell me stories about how when he living in the US he bought a nice manual camera called the Minolta (I think). And he'd always make my mom pose in his pictures. I have all the pictures to prove it.

Well, looking back at all those pictures, I realize how artsy and beautiful the pictures are. And my mom looks so young and beautiful. Sigh.

And now that I'm taking photography as an elective, this year, my dad fixed his Minolta and has given it to me to use. I don't think I've ever taken such care of an object before. I don't only take care of it because it is expensive and valuable but also because it is the benefactor of so many great memories between my parents and even though they are currently divorced it's nice to know that I'm the keeper of a link between them both.

But nonetheless, I love the red light inside the darkroom and I love developing my film. I love how my eyes need to adjust to the normal white light after half an hour spent in the darkroom (though sometimes when I'm having a bad day, the light forming blobs of blackness gets annoying). I love going outside to take pictures and I love it when my pictures develop the way I want them too. Because unlike my paintings and drawing, my photographs turn out just as I imagined it.

Basically, in some ways I feel like I was meant to stumble upon photography. But then again, maybe it's just one of those hobbies of mine that I abandon after a while.