The reliance on approved ideas before their answers become standard practice(s), or the development of coded language beyond a second opinion of acclaimed academics and scholars, lessen the banter found in middle of a reckoning amid human innovation. It means that the public's dissidence must corrode further than it has before and irony's promulgation off the screen, is in relation to having a cause for concern toward its influence being a reasonable originator of inauthentic subtlety. Various platforms are interlocked: education, trade and commerce, entertainment, debate, oppositional discernment, and etc. Those type of societal voices plow the land of our deliberation into a broad grave site. Many Americans, or if I can say we: study to work jobs that interconnect, live a segment of our lives on screens as portraits of our individual selves others can study, and ordering whatever's available we'd imagine is at the bidding of a fingertip. Yet, the existence of an individual self above the societal collective still comports with an argument for scientific evidence declaring to prove, that human progress in its capacity overshadows an individual's plight or story. If the idea exalts a stabilizing dependence you must act on, your craving for the wrong dissemination of a vulnerable opinion and argument, becomes a subservient interdependence on mediocrity. It sets in place from outside your control. I'd need a certain level of confidence to attain the actuary meaning of relying on my own voice, as not infusing a fallow assiduity that misses the point of cultivation to be an existential imperative. I note the phrase from an interview done by Lex Fridman in discourse with Professor Karl Friston regarding the Free Energy Principle, and I couldn't agree more. Is there trust and morality in a voice for the sake of itself standing on its own independence? Should relying on voices for information at least honor truth and all its propensity? When the weekend strikes there are some voices that arise demanding me to clean and others depriving me of action. I often ask myself which, are the existential imperative and until then, after a long week of wiping a sweaty forehead under mid-summer heatwaves, the complication in even asking the question ensues.Trusting and relying on myself to sit at a desk, for hours instead, is me telling you exactly what it is I'm doing expressed in a byline. This byline for this essay is America, and in it, I'm a recipient of the first check provided by the federal government during our time of crisis. To me, it means a lot. The stimulus check provided to myself amounted to twelve-hundred dollars and arrived (04/16/2020), as a countermeasure to retaining flow in the public and private sectors of our economy. For the whole of what it encompasses a revelation of power hangs in the balance for unexpected change. Firms and businesses cut staff and "higher-ups" have shortened their pay as results. Faith in the system is questioning its own pulse and whether or not a belief made stronger than before can be generated and more significantly, upheld. My anger in questioning whether the pulse is dead or alive meanders and wans because I too, am still a recipient and I don't believe this time runs on manufactured hope and change political parties have spout in the past, but a malleable, unforeseen change exulting an urge beyond all the blather taking place for discussing solutions. Even for another round of stimulus checks in a bill introduced as the HEROES Act (Health and Economic Recovery Omnibus Emergency Solutions Act) - H.R.6800 — 116^th Congress (2019-2020) in early May (5/12/2020), providing assistance with also: aid and extended coverage to veterans, small business loans for companies, student loan protections, and etc. (in a layout by the CRS [The Congressional Research Service of the Library of Congress]), the call to action is demanding. And put even more simply as a resource, the following site's included, (https://www.congress.gov/bill/116th-congress/house-bill/6800). I'm not saying this type of relief in middle of a pandemic isn't helpful and to the highest resolve it is necessary, but discussions revolving around the narrative of the more popular features of this bill to pass are being weighed momentarily by the Senate Republicans. That feature is the extension of an additional six hundred dollars added to unemployment insurance benefits. It also means that provisions are to be made before approval, because displaying bipartisan agreement in our government garners the look of proficient debate, as one tool of Democracy we believe we stand on. Since the first mention of a twelve-hundred dollar payment in the beginning of what would spiral into the tortuous months of February and March ahead, a bill called the CARES Act (Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act) - H.R.748 — 116^th Congress (2019-2020) introduced by Congressional Democratic Representative Joe Courtney (D-CT-2), out of the 2^nd District of Connecticut (110^th-116^th) on (01/24/2019) - respectively, caused uncertainty and gained little reflection from being ignored by the current administration. I'm not sure again on the right word choice, if it be "reflection" or "deliberation," but the pandemic's arrived for concluding remarks just a year after the bill's been proposed. And in the same year of this uproar, not long before on 1/26/2020 at 10AM, I watched breaking news of Kobe Bryant's helicopter crash into the side of a mountain in Calabasas and I thought, "we're in for it. We're in it for good this year and preparation to nowhere begins." I sat stiff crossing my arms and asking if I'm still sitting here in place, at a sister's house babysitting my niece. "No, no way." I turn the channel. I look at her with open eyes and sank back into the couch, mumbling a prayer... "as the cry of angels are heard in heaven now, please receive this gift from humanity."

Before moving on I'd suffice this change I mention, to permeate through a shifting mechanism the crowds implore in maybe how one or the citizenry perhaps, can...as opaque the usual term's granted, entreat a voice(s), of deprivation to something more or something higher. Pausing student federal loans and enhancing the need for surveillance on larger scales around the nation, are both calls bemoaning improved governance. These calls are burgeoning questions faith always undergoes trial for, especially after I'd overhear a young cashier tell a woman I accompanied buying groceries, "There's going to be a food shortage soon." To my knowledge, the last food shortage in America was...I'm still doing research to find a more coherent, equitable answer. The system's measurement of determinant variables involve the study of peoples' access to food, using the terms: food security and food insecurity. I remember nights being alone with empty cabinets, and the thought of hunger groping at my stomach prowling for a bite to eat. It seemed a psychological effect berating my conscious, slating me into a residual decline the longer my access or capability of gathering resources held out. The hunger lurched behind again and again, as a snake in the grass ready to seize its prey. I only knew that food was priority. To provide a clear narrative on my behalf in lamenting this idea I propose, I'd endeavor traversing these pathways of thought: tradition and its meaning, the opposition against ideas that transforms into exemption, and the conditional stance of it, being placed or interwoven aside meaningful dirges used in accounting for what becomes a state of change, by way of a people in society. Breaking down the voice into significant parts for which their used in, is the metric of castigation between setting them a part. What voice to lean on is a legitimate ask; when peering out at moving bodies from a window sill in the city, one might cogitate more on the assertions expressed and opinions uncovered below, as I do. I found the term fallow to mean, "ploughed, but not sowed; uncultivated.—n. To plough and harrow land without seeding it." There are levels for framing this discussion I'd hope. There's good reason I use the term "fallow."

I remember hearing the words, "Don't listen to anyone Terry. You're a writer," at work from a special colleague of mine. Those lapses of inspiration mean the world to an aspiring lad needing every parcel of guidance in the moment. I don't condemn saying yes, to opportunity either, but I think the need to hide away under your bedsheets at the break of day in mid-summer becomes more challenging when considering others' perspectives. I cannot avoid wiping my forehead though, but for only the sweat I missed staying inside. I remember being eight years old turning on a flash light underneath my covers in middle of the night, and Mother hearkening my brother and I to go to bed and keep the lights off. That's when a child's curfew was 9p. I understand just how far apart we were now from the room. In which kids with a slight crack in their bedroom door, will believe they'd get away with any and everything. Though it's a parental disclaimer for using discipline when their children break the rules; one time and one time only, they'll be young and impressionable. In these adult years, I have a sullen mood toward remembering. As if the negative thoughts, bad dreams, and memories were waiting in line for a turn to speak. They don't know how to speak at once, and the host of their inclinations, has extra amounts of training to do in light of suppressing them when the discourse gets out of line.

Under such a guise these days, views and opinions are much stronger and more accessible. The voices rising from the rubble of ashes left over lament progress for what it is today, a simple percentage growth of one or two metrics judged as the most important because we can study them with eminent force. The information dispensed from that study seems to be lumped into an active predominate discourse often set under existing regulations, guidelines or suggestions of the problem it's treating as less of a concern; because we have more to add, one is able to make a different claim. This claim could either inform better, the main discourse or it can replace the entire discussion if the problem's perceived as fixed. I'd almost assume in a latter scenario the previous notions might be ill-conceived if the progress in discourse has built the case for a standard solution to form new branches of possibilities and questions to build and work from. Witnessing those prior solutions fade and transform to being invalid of meeting basic outside interests that began the study of perceiving the problem lead me to wonder if they are nil, thoughtless and without anything left for a measure. If any and every subject is on the table in this time, I'm unable to deny then as another fact, not much real independent discussion stimulates value for different angles to view what I myself deem a perspective problem, that looks to pandering controversy as a main source of existence unto itself. I say this because the focus on a body of work that garners a sufficient opinion can differ in some ways to pieces of a study that contribute to answers generated by "applicable" data or what's thought as a correct application to assess issues by way of percentage approval. Knowing you have a voice is the significant realization and that which is honored as a simple writer's achievement, is tampered with at a constant. In the voice's beginning stages of determining what bullet points enclose a formal discussion, I'd expect every sentence to be clear. Not only clear enough to scale, but for proper communication to imbue the right results. Every sentence should have a subject, that subject should be: a person, place, or thing, and whatever it is, it should be doing something or something to it. Basic and logic sentences encompass the structural tools to provide clarity and from that clarity an understanding should be reached at some point. If not, then the viewpoints being discussed and therefore the discussion, is prolonged until a mutual agreement is met. And it seems the student still waits for the dissenting opinion before calling out those on the right or left of Red Rover's line to break the chains of communication, when in actuality the game began at the time of recruiting members to the strongest side. At this juncture, I'm not sure if any of the kids grew up to be strong and healthy adults who voice their pick for someone to run over. As it stands, it's easier to miscalculate or break hands and walk away for lack of individual enjoyment where no one else bothers to encourage residing till the finish. I thought kids were the best at encouraging each other, I must think that's not even the case itself anymore, if penetrating chains are too difficult for common sense to understand humanity's growth.

In the tradition of rational thinking, technology and science are the foremost components to explain the enhancement of an individual's thought and opinion, but in a way to exist at the forefront as a precaution for getting the idea wrong; both used together in the same argument for what is, deny the individual's full capacity to progress without causing an interruption that ties back into the same idea if new discoveries made in a different realm of thought and action, are found. So progression in my opinion, from a wider standpoint, occurs within the limits or confines placed upon the making of parts consistent with a whole. For a collective group's purpose, as part of a whole and not "set-under" or bottom-caste in a system of opportunity as an example, the depiction of what's available inside their collective power of individuals, is defined by whatever they have or entail. One of the few ways individuals flourish within anything, to produce thought, is to be exposed. The amount of exposure not amassed for collective groups is my grievance. I think there's a need for global influence to cultivate the individual's thought, but only after they'd been under the tutelage of specifications placed and constructed around the said availability collective groups must have to exist. In short, without them, individuals cannot attest for who they are if change is accepted as an ever-constant, leading them to self-destruct while believing the same for everyone else around. That view cannot be accepted as the case in my opinion, for challenging every intellectual thought, because the crowd or group may not be as despondent as the individual. A flat line of relatability does not interpose a required conscious effort. Similarities are touted as disparities but should not be commonly accepted as negative connotations toward the progression of enlightenment. The evidence of talk without credible usage is just chatter trying to reconcile itself to conception. The buzzing never stops and therefore, a precise assessment of anything said is indispensable. What a person says and how they say it, can affect your own assessment of an issue at hand. And in spite of anything, life must reside in, as well as death, in the tongue.

Depending on the assessment case studies can denigrate the best results for a solution, in place of standard measures being the progressive option. Standard American Life has become saturated with data sets rather than political recourse to solve individual disparities, that: grief, despair, sorrow, unmitigated circumstances, and etc. have been the blanketed veil for what's advertised as prosperous without context given to structured information organized for understanding. And that message seems to target groups when applying the best resource to fixing a communal issue. Every communal issue isn't solved by individual progressive metrics that don't include all information across the board, especially when it's a standard. When the practice of customs are pitted against themselves, the same discourse ensues. I reach into the same essays, poems, and short stories as those customs that held the hem of my britches. The tradition fades from the internment of rescuing my soul's denial of pursuit's convulsion toward holding it hostage, and my movement causes a restraint when other options aren't available. I'd no longer be able to impart credence above the happenstance of words along a timeline if that claim beckons truth. Those words then will only dither about, agitating the wind. By not investing we examine algorithms instead of potential and potential has never been rewarded a second chance at removing the "Cog in the Wheel" from its positional stance. How do we work best without disruption and if those individuals become a "Cog" in their community, how can that community flourish together without manipulation and bargaining interests by the parenting organizations offering help or some type of dulled inclusion? Organizations have in a way adapted the tribal mindset and as institutions "they" feed people options for replacing themselves by inducing their best work performance to achieve results for exponential monetary gain going back to said establishment.

Although an official standard is the key module itself for "Think Tanks" and the "Thought Leaders" represented by those organizations, the question of liability arises in this type of space when trying to augment discourse between groups of people or individuals, for better solutions. One needs not a constant ask for permission to accessing information on these matters or matters which are specific to that discourse at hand. If such information is becoming based off presumptive metrics laying bare the groundwork for studies based off of them, as well as becoming harder to find because of payment, having technological resources, and etc., the unique pattern of one's life hangs balanced with much disagreement. The ways in which one lives and how groups exist among each other are both sides of the pendulum. To digest a case study because it might share or suggest narratives, but doesn't fit the framework for data's input, is already difficult, especially if more research is needed to back up whether a claim is correct or not. What is a person paying for then if typical arrangements of the truth dissected as views of what's available to that person offer only an insight in place of unrequited access? I'd say one is fighting for free and fighting a dull, stolid fight for something already theirs. How must I avoid succumbing to defeat and giving in? How am I able to not imitate the voice of others by keeping my own. A second opinion I'd exert is, that it's easy, but since a lot of those independent voices don't exist at the start, discovery of self becomes inept and what already takes a lifelong feat most writers have yet understood, I'd much rather not believe society's voice either without my own and for that acknowledgement's cost, the rapid succession we thought we've traversed, strains to denote otherwise when celebrating individual achievement in areas the human intellect would perceive, as commonplace or a normal path to sanity for survival. I'm reminded of Trump's Death Clock. It was created by Art Director Eugence Jarecki back in April, as a response to President Trump's handling of this current pandemic. It is a minute–by–minute update of those who have and are dying, as a result that's concluded in thus far, a little over a hundred seventy-five thousand deaths as we speak? How is the number to be interpreted against the number of cases? There's a gap and large disparity between the rise of cases and the amount of deaths, but when can we acknowledge that death exists for the human soul? We must continue on and trod ahead.

Having a stakeholder's personal interests in mind is in a subtle way using data to fit specific narratives. Subtle, is a type of word that floats along the timeline of mechanisms being felt, as it is a word unto itself. Your senses go blank into a synchronized motion upon realization. And there, is when it occurs. Maybe it's not up for interrogation, but human behavior does remain an important signifier. The argument of the individual seems rooted in a countermeasure for determining the feasibility of choice regarding an expert opinion. It's a little more complex than just saying as a countermeasure for existing in two lanes of what it means to be human, is the case for individual motive justifying action in lieu of The Common Tragedy. The benefit of collective action is offset when referring to specific groups. Individual recourse though in a public light, is frowned upon as a selfish metric when those groups have a problem. If majority individuals agree their communal problems are different, the two or three opinions addressing those problems either subside to the group or disparage it. For an absolute decision to be well-thought-out an opinion should be formed by the group's chosen leader, at the extent the options pertaining to that group receives all applicable supervision and help required for a resulting solution that strengthens its core inside. To study the incremental parts of a whole so often, that one's individual motive and his or her dissipation that exists only when echoing problems of need to our late, great Establishment, eschews the time's notion of its existence being easily compromised for nonexistence or non-existential tropes, the voices of need are pertinent for the results of change and need not further examination. The message being spread is then in question. Individuals are forced to see beyond themselves and compromise what's held as an independent belief and often "take a back seat" in lamenting their woes to observe the public's fight for basic possessions. I wince and scoff at human progress as if touted to be real, by those voices and university chaplains akin to stamp a face on the pamphlet cover of a program lecture attempting to ignite the public to move toward an idea, instead of a reality mired in one's initial examination of life, they'd rather evoke the summoning for truth from such a pulpit. Even the singular thought's disingenuous.

The idea of humanity encountering an update is common, but when and how, are the arguments most heavily influenced by thought, discourse, and action. My habits are capitulated to my own front line of defense and whenever I discuss one or few of those tactics, I'd expect a certain something of myself that doesn't call what that is, as an it for an I. An eye for an eye incurs revenge; and an it for an I is trying to exist, but in my humble abode not at my own expense. Perhaps when in the act of writing I can bloody my vow and re-sign the treaty. I have my own quips with how our system designs itself based off numbers, data, and algorithms, but my pity turns bleak and I start raising a brow or two when it can't be blamed for a design of such magnitude in our contemporary moment, which has always off-shored the confidence of an investment in its own truth. That's not the system if the system can't blame itself. To know where and how to invest back resources in specific areas for communities to survive is pertinent, and the matter should absolve presumptive standards if a type of exposure to the opportunities ahead afterward, take place in light of being able to update the guidelines for any group on a periodic, reasonable basis. As we stand, the system is not built for collective groups in their totality. Irony's now become exploitation with a dash of dark humor that no longer suffices to explain social, governance, and environmental issues that bear the brunt of modern-day research. The repairing of an idea drifts away as a human's natural ability to cognitively develop lessens. And the notion of "repair" is a mistake of gathering bodies together with having little to no interest in asking why that body's considered less than. The idea sinks into the rash and foolhardy behavior posed as a benchmark for where to start new avenues of change. I'd be pessimistic also or remised perhaps, if I cannot espouse any thoughts unlike a career politician, derelict of duty and pompous. I'm not speaking for everyone, but my own observation would suggest so and I have much, much more work to do in my own right for a stable assessment in the truth I see in front of me. If not, then the pair of overalls I owned as a child has no straps in place and if I'd imagine they weren't there instead of at least one, every argument, opinion, viewpoint, or let alone my own sight, is just as impaired as those holes and straps missing from the overalls I'd worn, watching with sustained glory an heirloom shining on a pedestal in a long, white hallway of portraits I thought I grew to praise. It was a vase of my mother's that fell onto the floor after the raucous ensued between my brother and I in the house. "LET ME CREATE FOR YOU!" sounds prodigious and beneficial to a spoiled soul not knowing any better and whose faultless, merely because of access. After a few shards of glass pinned tight into the fabric of my one-strapped, jean overalls, I could scatter across the floor on my kneecaps chasing my brother down or kneel in an age where children have no clue of the white spots underneath patches of denim their parents bought for cheap at an outlet store. They'll wonder what I've always known, to be my only "type" of childhood.

Having a cognizant mindset is the needed update, but even the smoke and mirrors are shallow and humor isn't as fun anymore if one eyes an inch closer to his or her own reality. Writers that emerge today I feel, may be more inclined to propitiate a purpose or a cause, one barrenly discussed, overused, intersected, but what does that mean really and what if I just don't want/to. When is it fun again without a stir or cause to run and fight for. I believe a true writer is always fighting for something, but in my opinion I'd lament for the right of existence and individual freedom to express whatever I claim as my story. I already hold an objective outlook on life, but from the lens I carry if I must do it for my own sake and my family's, then I see the outside world as falling apart. Unless the child carries the torch into unimagined territory and the story holds its own back upright and credence to the few rarities in the crowd can explain what they mean without having to or simply put, explaining anything at all. One must control the personality behind their viewership. This, in my opinion is important, because Bertrand Russell once said, "facts will matter much more in the future." A story line doesn't fit in a comforting way with a or the, narrative of data; I'd endeavor one of my opinions as the opposite way round. I think data has to adjust in a way to the story line of human progress in order to be understood clear from one's eye or the I from an individual standpoint of life. The I, if I believe in it, steadies itself in the background somewhere, staggering behind to raise a hand when I contemplate a character or two for a story. Not mentioning if it stays then I try convincing others the perfect attendance award in school was my only main achievement, but I'd instead rather joke that being part of a spelling bee was perhaps the highlight of my elementary childhood. I say it with a smirk now or a grin dancing across my lips trotting into a frowned, yet serious concern that I thought might equate mediocrity before flat-ironing opinions without consultation first. Who else reads books, please raise your hand. Okay, okay. I can take a pause and breathe. In a way the good side seems to incur confusion at every turn, but if we take this idea into consideration then more than enough factual information exists to determine what's backed by science to tell us what benefits our bodies for the long haul. Plus, it's nice to know every now and again, as a writer, if one still has it. The capability of whatever it means, to authentically communicate from the Elysian Fields. Let your voice be the highest form of expression. Because as quick as the voice comes, is as quick as it seems to disappear. Hold firm! Poetry confiscates the soul's (I), being you. What's the American voice's fate if every literary trope atones its death before embarking on its own mission of a countryside?

In this year alone, our people have dealt with racial injustice and equality, as the bedrock of America's existence, a pandemic virus labeled COVID-19, a constant drainage of economic resources, and increased levels of anxiety moving into the future of what today's intellectuals aspire to be, progress. Even in sitting at my front room's window sill to write these thoughts, they're no more important than a neighbor waving hello or walking their dog, than the woman paying for her groceries at check-out, the same kids being taught discipline who play in the park across the way. Our lives made so simple and more plain as most adults within societal bounds, fight for small-breaks to catch the wind. Our lives made so simple, and yet all the same, the representatives we love are complicit. The decisions made up on Capitol Hill are tawdry and always feel as if some other hidden agenda's at play when breaking news arrives on screen. The people are at odds then, and much of society's moving parts are lost for lack of agreement on the most basic of an individual's needs. A lot said in one paragraph, I know. But the question comes back to me of why care. Should I care for the reason of being a citizen in the states, though for American Descendants of Slavery, we or I've grown to handle being overlooked in society-at-large as a normal casualty of life. Should I care because of writing or for my claim to be. The latter poses a dejected concern. So that in a way if I do, what is there to make of it? What is there to say, "anything?" It's a tough question in a new era that deserves no flank or a stilted response if one decides. Maybe I then too, should let my frail emotional state of location subdue not my soul into abhorrence, but oblige veneration for all which is good I see. Not that the bad won't show or disperse the crowds, but it'd permeate through the cause for morale to set the stage. For some reason, that seems to come back too every now and again. And by listening to myself the more tacit this journey of aging becomes, no fault in my sense imbues adulation toward strewn and opaque desires. The truth hides between indifferences. To be honest, I can make better light of stepping on a piece of gum positioned on the sidewalk. Instead of walking forth with a glued vigilante partitioned under my trench, until my tools to remove it are found and obtained for such a procedure, I guess we average Americans take a look around to slip up one foot out the sole and keep the other paved so deep to the cement, it's now another adhesive turning over to the caw of a crow's vision flying above. Uncultivated voices are patient and only wait to be sown. The motivation to arise is not expendable. Living a lie becomes out of control, but the truth can be managed by those who accept it.