This will probably be the shortest interval between entries ever, but sitting around and bumming some more has put me in a mode of reflection.

I think my life has taken a turn for the normal recently, and by normal, I mean nothing I ever usually deal with. Would it be weird to say that I’m a novice at actually living life real-time?

I suppose I need to give my mind some time to catch up with my life.

I remember holding great fear that I would eternally be an observer in my own life, at least when it came to people, living in reaction to my social surroundings, a center of my own story in my head, but still feeling that I needed to know the rules before I could play. At some point I realized that nobody knowns all the rules, and that even without knowing the rules, you can live anyway…

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But that’s okay. I’m not in a mood to write about personal history.

It’s okay to lose yourself in the moment, but as long as you can get yourself back

Haha–it’ll be interesting to see in the future how my Xanga represents this time of my life. Yes, I accept the fact that at some point in the distant future, writing and propping may lose its appeal, at least on this one website.

It is facinating how entries written by very different people can sometimes be so indistinguishable from my own to readers, and sometimes even, to me. I know I’ve said this before, but blogging is a blessing to our generation. It’s a time when we wonder how alone in our experiences we are in the world–and if anything, I’ve come to realize that in fact, we’re not alone at all.

<>< <>< <>< (whoaaa… these look like fishies!)

I’ve been running for a long time. Or not even running, but just ignoring. I suppose what keeps me from breaking down in the complete contradiciton of my life is that I firmly beleive that I will turn back. I will return from the faith and conviction that I felt so much that I had a year ago, and all this wandering will only be further testament to why that path is right…

…yet, why I am running in the first place then?

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Why do I believe so strongly in ideals? I suppose it’s because I’ve always had hope. I’ve always believed that love and perfection existed, perhaps in various forms, but that it’s there. I believe that one could be so seemingly illogical and misguided enough to give one’s life for the sake of another, perhaps in the moment of a gunshot, the signing of a paper, or any other irrevocable decision, and that it was good. Or that a mother could, in spite of the pain, burden, and time lost, would to dedicate her life to her child, a son to his father, a people to their creator. The key word is “choose”. I heard it on K-LOVE on committment… “committment is a choice, not a personality trait,” and that sentiment as been a foundation in my mind ever since. I am one to believe in the ulitmate power of the individual, and the decisions they make.

Economics can predict the movement of societies, but when it comes to individuals… it becomes much harder–for not only are we fickle, but we are by economic definitions irrational. We buy things not for their utility, but for the value we place. And that of course includes the ultimate choice to love.

Call it maternal instict, honor, duty, these aren’t wrong answers–just incomplete ones. What compells us to have instincts? To beleive in honor or duty? On the surface, it could be survival instinct, pride, or game theory, etc… and maybe we don’t have a soul and all we are is a collection of genes and responses to our changing environment. Maybe we are all just meat machines, coded through random mutations. But… that would be too simple of an explanation. We are alive aren’t we? We experience our world through our sensations, and we FEEL. Whatever theories you use to describe them, it really doesn’t matter. Deeper down, if you can beleive in an conscious soul that feels through the body and mind, then you must believe in love.

Besides. God tells us so .

…but I suppose it’s hard to believe when it’s so hard to find in life… but stick to it. Truly believing in something means you keep believing it even when it doesn’t bring you what you want.

~*~

My best judgment tells me that I’ve been thinking too much lately. What do ya think?

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Eternally, K comes before S in the alphabet.

i guess i could try to understand why we’re doing this. why i’m doing this. but i’m afraid that it wouldn’t make any sense. that it would be just so many pieces of words thrown together. and that you’d insist on making something out of all that, well, nothing. so i’ll stop here. but i can’t seem to. call it irony, or maybe it’s just a “side effect” of being an “English major,” whatever it is: to try and take what is given and make it the best. not to regret, but to make the most of one’s mistakes. it’s like flipping open any book to any page and picking a sentence. for instance: “And for the cash that’s God’s sole solid in this world!” here’s where you went wrong: you thought you could take that sentence and from it you could learne everything in the world. it’s like that old philsophy, that if you could just understand everything about something you would know everything about everything. but that’s not how things are necessarily. sometimes what happened is a mistake. a mistake . and you should regret it. yeah, there’s kind of a balance there, and maybe, for right now, i’m too far on one side. time changes things. i’m really not this cynical underneath. in the day-time, that is.

i would write you a poem. but all i can think of is an apple. a picture of a red apple in a black-and-white world. and taking a bite of that apple. of being black-and-white in a Pleasantville world, and . . . choosing – color, passion, knowledge, love, lust, anger, – all in an apple. but you wouldn’t know what i’m talking about.

because i’m not really talking about anything. no specifics, just nameless fragments – isn’t that how Xanga works? to keep us at a distance, while we pretend that really we’re telling all. and you can pretend that you know me – that you’re my closest confidante. because for a second – now – you are.
or you could be realistic about it. and just say “i’m bored.”
so which is true? do i write this because i’ve “simply” stored up too many words, and they have to go somewhere? are you reading between the lines to hear my call to you: listen to me, confidante, and do not turn away. it doesn’t matter how well it’s written (i would hardly dare to suggest that this is well-written at all) or how you strain to hear: there’s nothing there. even if i hinted at confiding, i wouldn’t because i can’t. i’m too busy running.

does any of this strike true? do you feel the same, somewhere, deep within? i am really interested to know. when you’re young, “they” spend so much time trying to instill a sense of individuality in you. you’re “unique” or – well, yeah. that’s what “they” say. and then you find out in intro-to-psych, really, everyone’s exactly the same. and everyone’s suffering under the delusion that they’re “unique” – but we’re not. so i want to know. do you feel lonely – like this? do you want to tell me something, but you haven’t said it? why haven’t you said it? is it not tactful? is it not the right time? maybe there are certain things that should go unsaid (a hard lesson to learn – i used to think there was nothing that should go unread. but now i’ve learned my lesson).
if you’ve read to here, i would truly like to hear your opinion. it doesn’t have to be anything “deep” or grandiose. i just want to hear. to hear you.

i’ve missed you.