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Sam O. Bscure

EVERYBODY WANTS TO SOAR IN AN INSTANT

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motivation

A Revolution of Inspiration and Motivation and Such


We all have moments when we feel like giving up. We lack the drive to accomplish our goals. We lose the ambition to be the fantastic ruler of the world who sits nobly atop a unicorn whilst prancing through a kingdom of chocolate, that our five year old self knew we would be.
Sometimes, it just seems downright unrealistic.
But, I assure you, this is not true. All you need is a little motivation.
Like that dollop of fairy dust once given to you by the old man in a van who was most certainly King Oberon, ruler of the faries, a little motivation will give your mind just what it needs to realize those dreams can be a reality.
And so, my good people, I have come to you today offering you my very own greatest source of motivation and inspiration.
It’s simple, really. All you must do during times of mental frailty is ask yourself one question.
You may even find that this question is not entirely unheard of to you. I believe at some point a similar version was used by a fairly prominent religion. Or something like that.
Although, naturally, I have altered it slightly for my own personal application.
What is this question, you ask?
Well, please restrain your overeager equines.
Such a powerful technique does require some buildup and anticipation.
…Alright, that is adequate.
The question, the source of motivation and inspiration, is:
WWTSD?
(That is, What Would The Sam Do?)
Now, originally, it would have been simply WWSD. But, of course, it can’t just be a general ‘Sam’. Who knows what kind of choices someone with a name like that could be making.
So, naturally, I added in a well placed adjective to stop that train wreck before it even had a chance to happen.
Now, the truth is this system is entirely flawed. I am ‘The Sam’. Thus, what I am doing is what The Sam would do. And, really, is that any motivation at all?
Sadly, it was not until after I had created the merch. line that I realized this tragic imperfection.
But, you most certainly are not ‘The Sam’ for there can only be one (if by chance you are, would you kindly leave your address and all other personal information below in the comments so that my team of people who are definitely not trained assasins may find you and honor you with a fluffy puppy and a celebratory cake), and this means that this incredibly clever creation shall not go to waste.
So, I present to you:

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Complete with multicolored splotches to hide the stains you'll surely get, you messy thing (available in all sizes)

Brought to you by:

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Order yours today!

 

Lameness and Llamas


I love writing. A lot. Like if there was a choice between eternal cheesecake and baby unicorns or being able to pursue my future in writing, I would choose writing.
Isn’t it funny how even when we know what makes us happy, even when we know what we want, we still find ways to sabotage ourselves?
When I started this blog in December, I don’t know exactly what I was looking for or what I expected. But, I do know that this is not it.
Just like every other newbie who is so sure that they have what it takes to rule the blogosphere, I lept in with a post cleverly titled Just an Intro.
It was pathetic.
And, yet, a blogger by the name of Asariels Muse still read it. Not only that, but left a comment. It’s that comment, the first a blogger receives, that really aids you and ruins you at the same time.
When you write something as utterly lame as my intro and manage to receive a comment like Asariel’s, it gives you this false sense of achievement.
With just one post, and hardly any effort, you managed to attain this great honor. That’s how it is for all of us. We didn’t discover reality yet, we still have the idea that we’re pretty much the next big thing. Bow down to us.
I don’t know exactly what it was that finally brought me to the reality of blogging, but eventually I did realize that I wasn’t the only one who could string together a few words.
I discovered that there were people who were more creative than me, people who were more amusing than me, people who could write more powerfully than me.
There were other bloggers out there. What a surprise.
That was when it became clear that I was not the next big thing, and perhaps I wasn’t quite as special as I had thought.
It’s kind of a crushing moment. Has my mom really been lying to me all this time?
But, eventually, I came to the conclusion that quitting then would simply make me more pathetic than any intro post ever written.
Getting to the point. Looking back on those seven months of pointless rants and the occasional piece of writing with some quality, along with the countless amazing posts you’ve written, and the opportunities to connect with you, along with the past two months of general lameness on my part, I would just like to express to you how much I love you.
You are so amazingly talented and you have motivated me to stop being a lazy lump.
That’s quite a lot of power, the laziness is strong with this one.
Use it wisely.
Also, I apologize for misleading you with my title involving llamas.
Yeah, I’m in the wrong here. I SUCK.
Shhhh. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of forgiveness. Screaming and then silence.

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Llamas With Hats: Episode 2

Sam ‘n Charlie: Picture Prompt #7


Greetings. Oh, would you look at that! Sam ‘n Charlie! But it’s not Tuesday….

Nothing gets past you, how incredibly observant!

Yes, Sam ‘n Charlie is delayed this week due to multiple unforeseen obstacles. Such as the fact that my brain was a giant pile of mashed potatoes (I’m really getting out of control with these potato references) and I completely forgot.

Anyway, moving right along! Sam ‘n Charlie is here today and, as always, we’d love for you creative little geniuses to use the picture prompt as well if you’re inclined to do so.

You are. Do it.

Artwork property of Charlie Speratis
Artwork property of Charlie Speratis

I remember when the sun used to shine. Everyday, there it would be, high in the sky smiling down on me. There was no darkness, no sadness or pain. I was happy. Always happy.

I remember all of that time I spent laughing and singing, twirling and spinning my way through the fields of blooming flowers. The grass was always green, and while I wandered about in the sunlight, I could feel it’s gentle touch on the soles of my feet as though it was encouraging me on my way.

I remember the birds singing, they were happy too. They flew along beside me and carried their bright tunes with them. They were always there, never leaving me as we continued on, guided by the sun’s rays.

But, then things started to change. They always do, of course. No one can expect the sun to shine forever, at some point it has to burn out. It was subtle at first: a cloud appearing in the endless blue of the sky, flowers wilting and their petals falling, and the birds slowly dropping away and flying back from where we came.

Before I knew it, there was not a trace of the easiness I had known. I was left in silence, alone. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know where to go. So, I did the only thing I could think to do. I stopped.

More and more clouds came. I tried my hardest to keep my eyes fixed behind me on the light I’d left behind, but soon there were too many and I learned I had to stop looking back. I tried to stay where I was, afraid of wandering too far away and loosing the only comfort I’d known. But then the rain began to fall, and I learned that I had already lost it and I needed to move on.

I trudged on, my feet sinking into the mud from the pouring rain. I was miserable, I could hardly even remember what it felt like to be happy. Yes, I carried on. Forcing one foot in front of the other. I was moving, but I wasn’t going anywhere.

I fixed my eyes on the horizon, hopeful to see a light in the distance. It was never there though, and eventually my eyes stared at nothing but the ground at my feet.

I hated this. Maybe I couldn’t remember my happiness, but I certainly knew this wasn’t it. I was tired of dragging my feet, endlessly pulling myself through the mud that was pulling back. I knew then that I couldn’t wait for the change to come to me, not like it had when the sun used to shine. I knew that this time, I had to find it.

So, what did I do?

I lifted my eyes. I wiped the rain and tears from my cheeks. I picked up my feet.

And I danced through that rain.

Sam ‘n Charlie: Picture Prompt #5


Property of Charlie Speratis
Property of Charlie Speratis

“This one’s a weed,” they said, disgust written plainly on their faces. “This one’s not as good as us, never will be.”

I could feel myself wilting, beaten down beneath their harsh glares and judgment. I shriveled up, curling in on myself, starved of approval and love. My roots were shallow, I couldn’t reach beyond them. It was killing me. I was a flower, and everyone knows a flower can’t survive without light and care.

But, what if they were right? What if I was a weed? Would that change things?

If I was a weed…

That would make me a fighter, adapting and surviving. Despite the drought, despite the poor soil, I would still grow. Pushing my way up through the sidewalk crack, where they told me not to go. Wherever I set my mind, wherever my dreams and my will take me, that’s where I grow.

So what if I lose the delicate petals and the beauty of a flower? That only made me fragile anyway. Forget about depending on others to help carry me on. I’ll do it myself, let the wind carry me where I’m meant to be. I don’t need to be admired and wanted by the majority, they had to destroy you first. Besides, all of those things that they say make me ugly are what I say makes me beautiful, what makes US beautiful. The battle scars, what remains of past struggles and challenges overcome. The faded colors, memories of everything we’ve endured. The ever climbing vine, proof of our ability to achieve, our ability to overcome.

In the end, they were right. This one is a weed. And yes, this one will never be like them. And yes, this one is not as good as them.

This one is better.


Sorry for the delay, my wifi hasn’t been cooperating.

As always, feel free to use the prompt (giving Charlie Speratis credit for the art, of course) and leave us a link to check it out.

Keep growing and climbing, you crazy little weed.

Sam ‘n 200


art by Charlie Speratis
art by Charlie Speratis

I’ve just reached 200 followers, and to me that’s just completely mind blowing and amazing, especially considering I haven’t really posted for the last two weeks… I’ve also just been nominated for two awards by BubbaKavangha and Asil, so thank you so much to both of those amazing bloggers.

To all of you, I want you to know that I appreciate you so much more than you might think. I’ve loved having the chance to find so many crazy and wonderful people that I wouldn’t have without this blog. Your stories have touched my heart, your support has inspired me, and your humor has left me laughing very loudly in very public places. And love all of it.

I also want to thank Charlie, who has really been the biggest inspiration and supporter for me. I don’t doubt that quite a few of you were only sucked into this blog by her artwork that she creates just for me to use on this blog. As much as I wish she could, she doesn’t really get anything out of the deal other than a “THANK YOU! THAT’S SO AMAZING!” text from me, an occasional hug, and the compliments you leave her in the comments. And yet, she still creates that crazy beautiful artwork every week.

So, to each and every one of you, thank you.

I’ve loved getting to know you so far, and I’m always looking for new blogs, new posts, and any ideas or criticism so feel free to get in touch with me through email or through the comments.

You all are quite wonderful. But, still not as wonderful as Batman. Sorry.

Sam vs. A Single Drop of Rain


Property of Sam O. Bscure
Property of Sam O. Bscure

A single drop of rain

Leading its own charge

Creating its own path

A single drop of rain

It races on, does not stop

But leaves behind a glistening trail.

 

A single drop of rain

Determined to reach the bottom

Yet the closer it gets,

The more it loses of itself

 

A single drop of rain

It is no more

Eaten up and pulled apart

By the journey it tried to make

 

A single drop of rain

The brave pioneer

The first to fall,

But not the last

 

Countless drops of rain

Following its charge

Tracing its path

 

Countless drops of rain

They race on, do not stop

Each one moving further

Beyond the last

Determined to reach the bottom

 

A single drop of rain

The last to fall

But the first

To finish the race

*As a side note, this is the 50th post published on Sam O. Bscure! So, thank you to everyone who follows, likes, comments, or is in any way involved in this blog. You all are by far the greatest people to ever set foot upon this Earth. Other than Batman. You will never be as great as Batman.

Sam vs. Your Mind


art by Charlie Speratis
art by Charlie Speratis

You run. As fast as you can. Frantic, desperate, and afraid. You have no direction, no idea where you’re headed, but you know you can’t stay here.

Heart pounding and gasping for air, you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You have to get away, you have to escape. You feel the ropes wrapping around you again, pulling you back.

You scream, you claw, you do all you can. But the ropes only get tighter, they only entangle themselves around you more. They drag you down, stumbling and falling to your knees. But you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You have to get away, you have to escape.

The ropes have tied you, knotted and trapped you. They’ve got you now, because you can’t escape. You can’t escape your mind.

This is the end, you say. There is no doubt, there is no question.

Yes, you could be right. There is nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run.

Yes, this is the end. The end of your running.

But not the end of you.

After all, your mind is yours. Of course there is no escaping it, without it you would not be. But, it is yours. And what is yours, you do control.

Stop with the running, it won’t get you anywhere. Your mind is yours, it is yours. You control it, you define it, you are more than it.

You can’t escape your mind, but you can always change it.

Sam vs. The Blows


Sam O. Bscure words hurt

There’s no way I’m going to win this

No way this battle will be mine to claim.

So, go ahead

Tear me apart some more

 

Piece by piece

Break me, shatter me

Let all the shards fall to the floor

 

Tell me all the reasons I’m wrong

And when I swing back

Tell me again

 

Pin me down with one more hit

Hold me with your words

I’m prisoner to the venom you spit

 

You are that whisper inside

Reminding me of those past failures

all the times I tried

 

Blow by blow

you tear me down

Shut up, you say

no one wants to hear you now

 

I’m weak and fallen

That’s when you walk away

You turn your back

But expect that soon I’ll be calling

 

I sit alone in my prison

But not for long

I hold the key

And soon I’ll be gone

 

While your back is turned

That’s when I take my chance

I know my mistakes

But now I’ve learned

 

Now I’m strong

You told me all along

The things I’d never be

But you were wrong

 

You were wrong.

 

 

Sam vs. Those Nights


This one’s for the people who spend their nights wide awake long after the sky has gone dark and the rest of the world has slipped off into sleep. They were lucky, they managed to find their way to the escape of the dream world. They could close their eyes and leave behind this reality.

But not you. You’re still trapped, staring up at the ceiling wishing you could turn your thoughts off, or at least lower the volume. There’s no distractions now. It’s just you in the darkness, stuck with that part of you that you keep locked up during the day.

This is for the people who spend their nights wondering what it would feel like to have someone beside you. Those nights when you struggle to remember what it’s like to not be alone. It’s been so long, you can hardly see past the clouded darkness of your present to recall what it was like in your past.

This is for the people who spend their nights scrolling through contacts on their phone, searching for just one person who would listen. There could be countless names, and yet each one illuminated on your screen is just that. A name. You know there is no one to match it who would really be there for you. The relationship is hollow. You long for something more, but it seems like they all are more of an act than anything else.

This is for the people who spend their nights numbing the pain in any way they can, knowing that it will be back in just hours. You run as fast as you can, put as many barriers and walls as you can up around you. But, no matter what you do, it’s still there. Every time you glance over your shoulder, it seems to be getting closer and growing stronger.

This is for the people who spend their nights fighting for their lives against their own mind. You tell yourself all the reasons you can’t quit, all the things that are still left for you to live for. But, each night it sounds less like the truth and more like a rehearsed line.

This one’s for you. You who know what it’s like to have one of those nights.

You who know what it’s like to have one of those nights, and yet continue on into the next.

You continue on into the next because you know that no matter what, there will always be another day.

After every one of those nights, there will always be another day.

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