Ah, hello again, Blog. We've shared some good times. Good times, indeed.
Reading back over the Blogs is a chore. One doesn't really undertake it with a scientific longing ever; after all, we lived it. So we approach it with that wonder of listening to a story. And oh, a story it is. A thousand thousand tales even the greatest author would simply drop his pen before and not even attempt to rival.
This is the essence of the Blog: the greatest story of our lives, in that it IS exactly that: our lives. Often I wonder to myself: how will I use this story in ten years? As a measuring stick for the development of my character? As a lesson-type ordeal telling the future the way or way not to go? Shall I look upon it with indifference, and become that completely forward-minded individual we all aspire to be? Ah, time will tell, friends. The ultimate equation, the unsolvable science: experience and the flow of time. Something I will always think about and always come away from unsatisfied. There are no answers: perhaps this is a test in itself, to be able to discover the lack of answers given no time and limited present ability to experience and intake experiences happening elsewhere and wise; and then, to deal with the emotion appropriately.
Lately, I have been thinking about my childhood. When I was young, I used to believe in the "panacea" for all problems. For a long time, I still did. It messed with a lot of aspects of myself, such as the ability to think in universal terms; it screwed up my sense of logic. Yet it was fascinating to think that there is one, primal cause to all things that can make the world work. The "nepenthe".
It still tickles my fancy to think about the one cause being the motivator for everything that we do; or that absolutely one factor in our lives controls everything that happens with us, come good, come ill. In scientific terms, surely, it is unrealistic. In a world-weary mind, where the equations and balances grow dead with over-use, one comes to ponder all of the impossible and the intrepid, that which has not been seen, that which shall never be.
Alas, I believe my train of thought ended there, with that last line. I wanted to make a big post because I haven't made one since...well, October, for crying out loud. Have to keep up my dominance of the word market here, you know. I forgot what my average was up to, but needless to say, it's fallen to an abysmal number now. I am not proud: I pride myself on the ability to be able to compose as I do, be the posts completely vapid; I am happiest when I am able to take my knowledge of the rules of composition and script and just put them to use. And yet the subject of English mechanics bores the hell out of me.
Well, let's continue, then. Here's a touchy subject.
"I am old, I am old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled." - T.S. Eliot
Ah yes, I am getting older. I say it, and in text, it sounds as if I have come to the end of my path; but no. I say it simply because it is true: I am growing older, and things about me are aging as well. My ability to heal isn't what it used to be, my speed is falling, my mind is expanding, my patience grows, my perception of time is shaky at best: it flies by in gushes and torrents. Amazing! I used to think I would never be able to get tired when running around the yard all day.
I remember the day it happened, that I figured out my endurance was fading: I was about 11 years old, and I realized, when playing with my younger sister and cousins, I couldn't keep up in the same way as they did. Granted, I was the biggest, and thus, dictator, but something was odd and vaguely unfamiliar, and that was: I was slowing down, slowly but surely.
I can honestly say that my energy was unlimited as a child. Getting me to sleep was a feat in itself. I don't know why, but I simply was, for lack of a better word, a manic when it came to being awake. I loathed sleep. I wanted to stay up late all the time.
This changes for everyone: it's not special. And yet the experience is brand new. Isn't that strange to think about? The feeling is documented, discussed, established; and yet, for you, for me, the feeling of aging is brand new. I have never lived to have felt this before, at least in the scope of my practical memory. I have never lived to have felt time slipping through my fingers faster than ever. It is brand new. Amazing.
Life: I love ya. Life is like a small child: you must cater to it well, or things can get well out of hand. Yet with the correct pushes and the care and tenderness that all life deserves, one is able to do great things; one is able to take that life they are given and mold it into whatever shape they require: we mold the future. The power is over-whelming and sits on the edge of a knife: are you capable of balancing that knife so that "the inevitable" doesn't happen? Am I?
I believe I am now. The past couple of months have been a solidifying process for me. I have been trying to find out exactly what I know, and how much I know about it, about the direction, processes, and speed at which, by which, and to which, respectively, of my life. This has been a difficult process: I don't believe anyone can face their Master without humble eyes and expect to come out unbruised. I found myself in my lowest points, lower than ever, yet I knew I was there for a reason: to find out why I had to be there in the first place. A cycle of discovery with the answer leading to the element of one: who am I?
I used to answer this question quite easily, "You are Josh Chandler, blah blah description here." I have found much more than that now, but so great is that list that to expound upon it would take an infinitude of time, so as to be able to describe in detail each decision I have made in my life that has nurtured my existence to this point. My answer is vague in my mind, and unclear; but it is the reuslt of great clarity that such has happened: for in discovering the facets of myself, the true answers have become mysteries, and the hidden has become the solution; everything is backwards and very undescribable except to he who holds the key to what all these answers are...and that is me.
Enough. Wow. That should hold in for another 3 months or so. But maybe more to come? Medicines do strange things to one's mind...not good things, at times, but great things to one who would dig deep enough. And with this, I rest. Goodnight, all.
Reading back over the Blogs is a chore. One doesn't really undertake it with a scientific longing ever; after all, we lived it. So we approach it with that wonder of listening to a story. And oh, a story it is. A thousand thousand tales even the greatest author would simply drop his pen before and not even attempt to rival.
This is the essence of the Blog: the greatest story of our lives, in that it IS exactly that: our lives. Often I wonder to myself: how will I use this story in ten years? As a measuring stick for the development of my character? As a lesson-type ordeal telling the future the way or way not to go? Shall I look upon it with indifference, and become that completely forward-minded individual we all aspire to be? Ah, time will tell, friends. The ultimate equation, the unsolvable science: experience and the flow of time. Something I will always think about and always come away from unsatisfied. There are no answers: perhaps this is a test in itself, to be able to discover the lack of answers given no time and limited present ability to experience and intake experiences happening elsewhere and wise; and then, to deal with the emotion appropriately.
Lately, I have been thinking about my childhood. When I was young, I used to believe in the "panacea" for all problems. For a long time, I still did. It messed with a lot of aspects of myself, such as the ability to think in universal terms; it screwed up my sense of logic. Yet it was fascinating to think that there is one, primal cause to all things that can make the world work. The "nepenthe".
It still tickles my fancy to think about the one cause being the motivator for everything that we do; or that absolutely one factor in our lives controls everything that happens with us, come good, come ill. In scientific terms, surely, it is unrealistic. In a world-weary mind, where the equations and balances grow dead with over-use, one comes to ponder all of the impossible and the intrepid, that which has not been seen, that which shall never be.
Alas, I believe my train of thought ended there, with that last line. I wanted to make a big post because I haven't made one since...well, October, for crying out loud. Have to keep up my dominance of the word market here, you know. I forgot what my average was up to, but needless to say, it's fallen to an abysmal number now. I am not proud: I pride myself on the ability to be able to compose as I do, be the posts completely vapid; I am happiest when I am able to take my knowledge of the rules of composition and script and just put them to use. And yet the subject of English mechanics bores the hell out of me.
Well, let's continue, then. Here's a touchy subject.
"I am old, I am old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled." - T.S. Eliot
Ah yes, I am getting older. I say it, and in text, it sounds as if I have come to the end of my path; but no. I say it simply because it is true: I am growing older, and things about me are aging as well. My ability to heal isn't what it used to be, my speed is falling, my mind is expanding, my patience grows, my perception of time is shaky at best: it flies by in gushes and torrents. Amazing! I used to think I would never be able to get tired when running around the yard all day.
I remember the day it happened, that I figured out my endurance was fading: I was about 11 years old, and I realized, when playing with my younger sister and cousins, I couldn't keep up in the same way as they did. Granted, I was the biggest, and thus, dictator, but something was odd and vaguely unfamiliar, and that was: I was slowing down, slowly but surely.
I can honestly say that my energy was unlimited as a child. Getting me to sleep was a feat in itself. I don't know why, but I simply was, for lack of a better word, a manic when it came to being awake. I loathed sleep. I wanted to stay up late all the time.
This changes for everyone: it's not special. And yet the experience is brand new. Isn't that strange to think about? The feeling is documented, discussed, established; and yet, for you, for me, the feeling of aging is brand new. I have never lived to have felt this before, at least in the scope of my practical memory. I have never lived to have felt time slipping through my fingers faster than ever. It is brand new. Amazing.
Life: I love ya. Life is like a small child: you must cater to it well, or things can get well out of hand. Yet with the correct pushes and the care and tenderness that all life deserves, one is able to do great things; one is able to take that life they are given and mold it into whatever shape they require: we mold the future. The power is over-whelming and sits on the edge of a knife: are you capable of balancing that knife so that "the inevitable" doesn't happen? Am I?
I believe I am now. The past couple of months have been a solidifying process for me. I have been trying to find out exactly what I know, and how much I know about it, about the direction, processes, and speed at which, by which, and to which, respectively, of my life. This has been a difficult process: I don't believe anyone can face their Master without humble eyes and expect to come out unbruised. I found myself in my lowest points, lower than ever, yet I knew I was there for a reason: to find out why I had to be there in the first place. A cycle of discovery with the answer leading to the element of one: who am I?
I used to answer this question quite easily, "You are Josh Chandler, blah blah description here." I have found much more than that now, but so great is that list that to expound upon it would take an infinitude of time, so as to be able to describe in detail each decision I have made in my life that has nurtured my existence to this point. My answer is vague in my mind, and unclear; but it is the reuslt of great clarity that such has happened: for in discovering the facets of myself, the true answers have become mysteries, and the hidden has become the solution; everything is backwards and very undescribable except to he who holds the key to what all these answers are...and that is me.
Enough. Wow. That should hold in for another 3 months or so. But maybe more to come? Medicines do strange things to one's mind...not good things, at times, but great things to one who would dig deep enough. And with this, I rest. Goodnight, all.
