The shoe that fits isn't always the nicest looking. We'll keep trying them on. Pair after pair. Some might be aiming for that fancy ass pair of neon hybrid material that caresses your feet like a seedy massage therapist. Some won't care what other people think, and will wear that pair of worn hiking boots. Not because they have flashing lights in them. Not because everyone you know wants a pair of them. Simply because they fit.
Obviously the point of this post is not about shoes. I hate shopping, much less replacing the pair of ratty sneakers I've been wearing since Bush started his term. Replace the shoes with another idea. Purpose. Meaning. Desire. Drive. You get the picture. They say we have a choice. Do we? Yes. But is it as simple as saying yes or no? Never.
Who am I? Another college kid who thinks he's some kind of philosopher because he can string a few simple thoughts together? Aiming to become some kind of doctor, and yet not really desiring the target? Give me a pad and a pencil, and I would be happy. Then Life kicks you in the ass and your stomach starts rumbling and you realize being happy won't make food appear on the table or pay any bills. What are the real choices? Go with what makes you happy, even if it's not very plausible, and hope you get lucky? Or go with what's realistic, even if that shoe might be too tight for you to be comfortable in?
Anyways, I think you understand the main idea here. I would like to pose this question; is a happy, short life better than a drawn out, mediocre one with all the creature comforts?
A not very timely note
This was a blog I once wrote during my high school and early college years. I keep it around for nostalgic purposes, but it is quite obviously no longer updated. I am looking to make a more professional blog presence in the future, but I still like to look at where I was mentally at certain points in time.
- G. Jan 2013
- G. Jan 2013
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
G. and the Input Blitz
Your right hand reaches into the pocket of your jeans, and emerges from the denim depths with a house key. You walk out that door, turning around only to secure your sanctuary with the jagged piece of metal. Nothing unusual. Yet. Where the story goes from here depends on who the protagonist is. You might be walking to a bus for another mediocre day at generic public school #101. A car seat might we waiting for you to insert your weary behind on it for another day at work. If your about thirty something, and your waking up after a long night of drinking cheap supermarket beer at your parent's house, I just might slap you. If I could. I'm only the narrator. Anyways, it's not about the destination; the journey is where it's at. What's so special about commuting to work, or walking to school, or hiding in a bat cave waiting for the night shift? Well, nothing. Nothing to do with you; but what's around you. Input.
It's everywhere! In the newspaper. Your cough when you realized you forgot to vacuum. All the engine lights going on when your car starts. Advertisements, crying babies, guy in chicken suit, honking madman in the next lane; it's too much to process!?!?
That is, if we process it. Because we don't pay attention to any of that now do we? If we did, we would be a tier above normal crazy. That's because we don't pay much attention to our surroundings any more. And why would we? There's a far better place to hang out; our own minds. And hence the Input Blitzkrieg means nothing... or does it?
What does it mean to live in a state of perpetual dreaming? To live real life on auto pilot. When a person dreads waking up the next day. When the bus ride to school is one of irritating sleepiness. Auto-pilot is great for when the pilot of your commuter plane gets amnesia and no one has experience with a Microsoft Flight Sim. It's a horrible way to live.
Any rational person would say that survival has to be placed above all else. But is the sacrifice of the fire in your soul worth the kind of life that seems to mean little more than a dead man walking? There's so much input, so much hidden in our surroundings. To forever live in our own heads, instead of experiencing what's outside of it; that's real suffering. A mobile jail cell; one that many of us have put ourselves in, willingly or not. The only way to escape? To bring life back to the soul.
Sorry for the little delay with this post. Please, if you've got an opinion on any of my thoughts here, I would love to hear it.
It's everywhere! In the newspaper. Your cough when you realized you forgot to vacuum. All the engine lights going on when your car starts. Advertisements, crying babies, guy in chicken suit, honking madman in the next lane; it's too much to process!?!?
That is, if we process it. Because we don't pay attention to any of that now do we? If we did, we would be a tier above normal crazy. That's because we don't pay much attention to our surroundings any more. And why would we? There's a far better place to hang out; our own minds. And hence the Input Blitzkrieg means nothing... or does it?
What does it mean to live in a state of perpetual dreaming? To live real life on auto pilot. When a person dreads waking up the next day. When the bus ride to school is one of irritating sleepiness. Auto-pilot is great for when the pilot of your commuter plane gets amnesia and no one has experience with a Microsoft Flight Sim. It's a horrible way to live.
Any rational person would say that survival has to be placed above all else. But is the sacrifice of the fire in your soul worth the kind of life that seems to mean little more than a dead man walking? There's so much input, so much hidden in our surroundings. To forever live in our own heads, instead of experiencing what's outside of it; that's real suffering. A mobile jail cell; one that many of us have put ourselves in, willingly or not. The only way to escape? To bring life back to the soul.
Sorry for the little delay with this post. Please, if you've got an opinion on any of my thoughts here, I would love to hear it.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Focus
I'm a walking case file. Somewhere in some tired psychologist's office, there's a file with my name and a giant label: ADHD. Yes, the file is imaginary. The feeling that my mind's cross hairs are all over the place isn't. Oh how I envy those who can carve a make believe box out of thin air and put themselves in it, with only them and the object of their efforts. Is this some kind of challenge? Even having the end in mind, would I succumb to the day by day beat down, or clamp down on the steering wheel hard enough to stop my thoughts from spiraling into the most random stuff this side of Wonderland? Look, I even caught myself red handed right on this very moment, writing a post instead of studying the words of a third edition textbook (fork over another $100 for an extra chapter eh?). Sometimes I would even feel ashamed of my inability to focus. It's like a fire that roars for a few seconds, then gets doused by a blast of ash. Surrounded by a flurry of worries and doubt, and even make believe issues, how do we just simply focus? Comment away.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Middle-Men - A Random Burst of Inspiration, Written by Sir
Hey, there. Been a while, huh? Yeah. Well, I’m not gonna promise any surge in my article posting, and I really hope you don’t expect anything, because me actually working on something straight is quite a feat.
I’m just saying this so you don’t get disappointed if you only see me again in a year :).
Anyways, back to the inspiration! (Because if I don’t write this down right now, I might just lose it again).
So, most of you have heard of a middle-man, right? Be it drugs, business or other dealings, middle-men are people who connect two parties, so that they do not need to compromise their identities or to facilitate exchanges. As such, they come in pretty handy, right?But that’s not the only type of middle-men you might come across.
Do you :
=-Really appreciate George’s company, but you’re not really sure about his seriousness in work?
=-Like Bobby’s enthusiasm, but are dismayed by the amount of epic failures in his life?
=-Enjoy the large quantity of inside jokes you share with Karl, although he’s kind of really obnoxious at times?
=-Find that the experiences you shared with Johnny or Mark were very good ones, and that you may know them better than the others because of that, yet you can’t bring yourself to be more than a decent friend, even though you know them well?
If so, you might be the middle-man. Don’t get me wrong, you don’t have to follow these points perfectly to be a middle-man, or even if you do, it doesn’t mean you necessarily are one. This is just an example set out to give you a basis on which to *mildly* rely.
I can already hear you guys :
“But, do explain, kind sir, what your point is in all this rambling!”
Right away, then! As with most of my posts, there is no real point. Only trying to make you realize something : If you keep wondering why you don’t fit in with most people, why you’re sometimes seen as the crowd pleaser although people usually don’t see you shine a lot or even just if you can’t seem to pick a best friend, this might be the reason. You’re the balanced person, the pillar on which they connect. You might have noticed your friends don’t have a lot of common traits, while you share your lot with most of them.
Doesn’t it make sense, then, that you are the one that “brought the group together”, somewhat? Maybe not literally, but if you’re the guy that keeps helping other people out in whatever way you can, while not really giving it your, ever, this position might describe you.
If I’m not wrong, you’re the guy who separately understands some or most of your friends, while still not really knowing them.
I’m writing this because of a burst of imagination, and I’m not sure if all of this is true or not, but consider this as the life experience progression of a teenage soul, swimming in a pool of daily epic wins, awesomeness, drama, and whatnot.
Your opinions, comments, or just random keyboard-bashing with your fists are all welcome, here.
Until inspiration strikes again!
I’m just saying this so you don’t get disappointed if you only see me again in a year :).
Anyways, back to the inspiration! (Because if I don’t write this down right now, I might just lose it again).
So, most of you have heard of a middle-man, right? Be it drugs, business or other dealings, middle-men are people who connect two parties, so that they do not need to compromise their identities or to facilitate exchanges. As such, they come in pretty handy, right?But that’s not the only type of middle-men you might come across.
Do you :
=-Really appreciate George’s company, but you’re not really sure about his seriousness in work?
=-Like Bobby’s enthusiasm, but are dismayed by the amount of epic failures in his life?
=-Enjoy the large quantity of inside jokes you share with Karl, although he’s kind of really obnoxious at times?
=-Find that the experiences you shared with Johnny or Mark were very good ones, and that you may know them better than the others because of that, yet you can’t bring yourself to be more than a decent friend, even though you know them well?
If so, you might be the middle-man. Don’t get me wrong, you don’t have to follow these points perfectly to be a middle-man, or even if you do, it doesn’t mean you necessarily are one. This is just an example set out to give you a basis on which to *mildly* rely.
I can already hear you guys :
“But, do explain, kind sir, what your point is in all this rambling!”
Right away, then! As with most of my posts, there is no real point. Only trying to make you realize something : If you keep wondering why you don’t fit in with most people, why you’re sometimes seen as the crowd pleaser although people usually don’t see you shine a lot or even just if you can’t seem to pick a best friend, this might be the reason. You’re the balanced person, the pillar on which they connect. You might have noticed your friends don’t have a lot of common traits, while you share your lot with most of them.
Doesn’t it make sense, then, that you are the one that “brought the group together”, somewhat? Maybe not literally, but if you’re the guy that keeps helping other people out in whatever way you can, while not really giving it your, ever, this position might describe you.
If I’m not wrong, you’re the guy who separately understands some or most of your friends, while still not really knowing them.
I’m writing this because of a burst of imagination, and I’m not sure if all of this is true or not, but consider this as the life experience progression of a teenage soul, swimming in a pool of daily epic wins, awesomeness, drama, and whatnot.
Your opinions, comments, or just random keyboard-bashing with your fists are all welcome, here.
Until inspiration strikes again!
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