Lost and Far From Home

Woah. its been a few. Nothing like keeping the stuff current.
Life surprises and bores. Life engages and abandons. Not many people can handle the real thing and so many decide to go fake it. Who can blame us.

Drifting..... in a sea of the unwonted and unwilling. We can reach but can we grasp? Will I ever attain that which I desire? Is it really what I want? Too many real questions without hope of real answers. What is the next step? Do we wait safely in the dim and wavering light or do we strike out into the darkness in search of stronger and steadier light? There is only one real answer to that question. All others are cowardly and insignificant. What do we take with us. Is there any need to drag our tired and impotent dreams. Will they serve a purpose? And if they do will it be profound enough to justify the effort expended to carry them? No. I think not. It is better to leave everything behind. Better that we use the raw materials of the darkness to form new tools and strategies. Like a fledgling apprentice we develop our own style and prowess as we explore and perfect our craft. Better to gather new, more suitable dreams from the freedom and inspiration of the immense blackness. Only the journey can prepare us for the destination. Only the instruction that comes during our struggle will prepare us to arrive.

Well, well, well. A grey mind to go with this grey day. There is often a fog and a haze over the way perceptions are formed and then imposed on our worldview. How very appropriate that my mental fog is thick and dark on the days when the atmosphere is in a similar conditon. Life is made more difficult by this inevitable clouding of view and understanding. No matter how hard we try to clarify and refine the way we understand ideas, concepts and people, there will always be some residual clouding. An inescapeable opacity between what we think we understand and what we need to understand. The only way to combat this then is with the knowledge that we are wrong on many counts. If we approach our lives with humility, allow ourselves to be taught through all our experiences, and to be refined by every interaction then we will be able to avoid the otherwise detrimental effects of our misconceptions.

Weather changes have always been confusing to me. If there are these monolithic forces that influence one another and create the patterns that settle over areas of the world, then how come the weather is so variable. Why is there such minute fluctuation from town to town even street to street some times? I am awed by forces which I don't understand, and cant help but be cheered up by the fact that even things like the weather are subject to small influences and can be changed almost instantly without warning.

It's wednesday evening at 2000 hours and a blamy 68 degrees here in beautiful lansing. Things are working out just beautifully here at MSU. I have been putting in some serious time preparing for an upcoming physiology test. I still feel like I can never be ready for this sucker. This blog seems to be a departure from my previous entries less pensive and wordy. Variety is the spice of life. Nothing like a dose of mundane drivel to bring the ordinary out of us all. It seems so strange that we all try to escape the mundane on a regular basis, but our method is to seek out the mundane in the lives of others. We retreat from all that is predictable and commonplace in our own seemingly small lives and experience catharsis in the shopping lists and shaving of those around us. It is too bad that we can't be entertained by our own small everyday duties. We would only need ourselves. We would look to the mirror as our source for slapstick physical comedy and be appalled by our own lack of self-awareness. We would probably knowingly nod our heads as we displayed an endearing kind of obtuse opacity in uncomfortable situations. It would be like a bad art film that kept rolling.

As I look out onto the beautiful Michigan morning, I am pensive and strangely content. I am motivated to reflect by my choice of music this morning. Radiohead's Pablo Honey is truly a classic among classics. And, how can anyone listen to lines like "And the feeling is that there is something wrong, cause I can't find the words and I can't find the song/ stop whispering, stop shouting." and not be thrown into contemplation? Ill tell you that it takes a special person. It seems strange, sappy, even a little pathetic that quasi-pop music should stir my emotions and elicit some of my most meaningful thought. I must admit that I have been and continue to be powerfully affected by much less worthy artists than radiohead. Jimmy Eat World is certianly one. I had an epiphany of sorts while running along the rive and listening to JEW. I suppose it could be worse. At least I recognize that there are implications of this affect. And I am willing to confront and accept any impending consequences.

All is well that ends well. I don't know if anything has ended well or not though. Well as John Wang says, to prevent heart attacks "Go get drunk, get into bar fights and BLEED alot!"roopbeer.home