A freak occurrence has canceled my working tomorrow morn, so here I sit, alone in the dark, watching House, and pondering. Though I am now done with college, and for the most part unemployed, I do not spend enough nights up thinking. Thinking is overrated, it is too easy and often hurts too much. In reflection one looks back more on the failures and regrets than the successes and acceptable outcomes that live has provided.
While pondering something came to mind. The writing of a book entitled "The greatest thing I ever did for my family and friends was die." (such a book would be an ironic truth as if it sold well, then the recorded thoughts about life and dieing (like the last lectures series) could benefit the periphery more in the future than the present) But then, that is the very purpose this blog is to serve. This whole time my intentions have gone unspoken, and now I realize that if not recorded, they will never be known, and only possibly surmised by students and friends. So to put it plainly, this blog is to capture me, my thoughts, feelings, and actions in a pivotal phase of my life. I lie far too much here, both to you and myself. That and though I strive for at the least the essence of amusing lies, and artistic portrayal, I end up saying little and meaning more than could be understood. The purpose here is to show those who do not know me, or do not know me well, or even those who do know me, who I am. I mean this in an omnitemporal sense. I expect friends and colleagues to read this, and one day maybe family and children. Giving them the chance to see my humanity, my uncertainty, my failure, doubt, success, and thoughts. And although moods confuse the meaning, and lies obscure the truth, it is my way of reaching out.
I want to be something, because I am who I am, and for no other reason. I have been urged towards a job as an analyst for the good ol' Dept of Just, the F B of I to be specific, by a senior of that very position. He thinks I would do well there, and I might. But I am unsure about such a position. The romantic in me would rather be a starving writer, with a slim chance of success, than a successful tank thinker, and only one of many. I would rather die alone but for those who I force to be by my side, rather than be surrounded by those who choose to support me. Is such a thing arrogance, or is it personal pride? It is true that I am not what I am not, and that I was not what I am, and that I will not be that which I cannot become.
It hurts, the pain is dull and deep, like the burning of ice against the face. But this pain cuts through my chest and into my heart and soul. Things which go unspoken, known and unknown, things understood and misunderstood. Things of gravity, ghosts, questions.
People cannot ever make perfect sense, they may strive to as individuals, or at least rationalize to themselves ways and means and reasons that excuse their thoughts and actions. But no matter how hard they try, true rationality may be impossible. We never really know what we believe or feel, so how can we tell others these things in truth. And how with others can we together reach understandings based on truths which are secretly uncertainties which are based on knowledge that is superficial at best. Nations work like people. People may feel pain and never know the cause, and it will take others examinations to uncover the truth, but this does not change the reality of the afflicted. Knowing changes nothing, having the power and will to change does, but is worthless without the knowledge. So somehow we need others to better live ourselves, but by the same token, others can lead to the opposite of that which may be considered living better. The door is self, and the key choice. The lock is invisible, and may not even exist, but for some it holds the door firm and unwavering, and others not at all.
Do you use your key, have you found the lock, dare you touch the door.
Coward.
The first step to growth is change, stop rationalizing the reasons not to, and just make it happen.
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