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sometimes i write personal things

May 4, 2009

Yesterday I graduated from college. The University of Michigan is one of the finest institutions in the land and I love it dearly. I’m not entirely convinced its the biggest deal in the world, graduating college. I’d say not graduating would probably be more of an issue, but I’m still proud and I will forever be a Michigan Wolverine. Nevertheless, yesterday, I graduated college.

Today, I stood outside with my dog, as I was back at home for a graduation dinner with some family. I stood outside as my dog rolled around the grass, entertaining herself however dogs do. Reflection is so important, especially in times of change…when one door closes and you’re left in a room full of open doors, and so I took the opportunity, as I have done in the past, to reflect. I thought back to when I was in middle school. I’d be out with the dog, standing, her slightly more mobile than she is now, still entertaining her canine compulsions. I’d look at the sky, the clearest blue or the murkiest twilight or the starriest nighttime’s were the best for introspection. High above, in the infinite abyss of atmosphere, or far away, as far as my limited sight distance could see, there was the world. Out of my world. I would stand, lost in my thoughts, feeling the world move as I remained, legs still, or perhaps taking me up and down our backyard, or over a ledge. My motion was irrelevant, and my eyes focused on another dimension. Here and now did not exist. I left here and now and went to some place I have not visited for quite some time. I just let go, of everything, and I daydreamed. I thought. I lyricized. I didn’t ponder, but I entertained myself, like my dog, in my own unique way. I put myself in situations everyone always just conjures up in their dreams. Supreme popularity. Famed entertainer. Lawyer. Lover. Married. Happy. The things I am not, but the things that I want. It, in some respect, is my way of having those things for a few brief moments.
I hated coming back to reality. I still do. I give an attitude to my mom when she’s trying to help me out, ignore my friends who are innocently texting or instant messaging me, because I am in a mood, a zone, and the interference, the modulating of the wavelength I’m on, it doesn’t feel right. I have to fade in and out of this zone on my own terms on my time. So forgive me, but I’m here now. There, on my level. Lost, thinking.

Reflection is so important because you get in touch with yourself, but snapping out of that mode brings me back to reality, where responsibilities and real life, and all the things that I actually am are important. The daydream fades, sure to return another day, and I bring the dog inside. Maybe a little happier. A little calmer. Maybe more content. But no more sure. Not wiser. Just minutes older.
It is like a rut. And with me it is always a rut. Even changing becomes a rut. Reflection is so important but you must use it. No matter what grand and inspired thoughts make their way into your cerebral cortex, letting them disintegrate, scattered throughout the unconscious, is a waste.
The one thing that I’ve been consistently told by commencement speakers is to, generally, “think big.” Hold on to your dreams because they are you, and you are all you’ve got. One afternoon, skipping a school dance because you had to take the dog out (or because school dances were never your scene because you were awkward, scared, unknowingly closeted, and preferred the company of yourself) and stand in your front yard contemplating whatever it is deepest within your conscious self isn’t going to change you, or, subsequently, the world. But it will help. It will put you on a path. It will give you a ladder to grab hold of. You have to walk down the path, pull yourself up the ladder, but understanding that this journey, is just that, a journey, and realizing that reflection is the most personal of conversations you can have, and knowing that maybe, there is a way to bring those thoughts out from the voids of the mind, is putting action into something passive. And it moves the journey. Being in a rut sucks. Getting out of a rut is hard, and thus sucks more. But knowing where you are, what you’re doing — metaphorical or existentially, of course, not necessarily literally — and being able to act on that, take it from dream to reality (or, making your dreams come true) is what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m a thinker. A dreamer. Not exactly the most brilliant thinker, or the biggest dreamer. But if I combine them, thinking big isn’t so hard. And making those thoughts into something tangible…not right away of course, but in small steps, is possible. the right foot in front of the left on the path, the left hand over the right up the ladder, that is the journey. The end of the path is unknown. The top of the ladder clouded by… the clouds. I guess everyone knows this…or doesn’t think about it much. I don’t know. I think about it all the time.
The motivation to turn my thoughts and dreams into anything other than unintelligible brain activity has steadily been declining. It’s more than a bit of a problem, and falling into the rut of laziness and minimalism, while seemingly the easy way out, is probably not any sort of good for me. I have no problem admitting I’m not sure which direction my life will take. I am lost, confused, unsure, and terrified of that. I am aware that I am “journeying.” Patience isn’t my greatest virtue (probably not one of my virtues at all), and getting to know an answer is all I really want. But, that is impossible, and fruitless. Really, there are three premises that act as my justification mechanism, my circular-reasoning-question-killing-commandments:
1. the only thing that will never change, is that everything will change.
2. Assumption is the mother of all fuck ups, and Expectation is her bastard child.
3. Nothing ever goes according to plan.
I tell myself these things because they make sense. Just like all people tell themselves things because it helps them to make sense of what is, instinctively and innately and literally nonsensical. Therefore, no it is not perfect, nor the only way to maintain one’s sanity, but I think it makes…the most sense. We do what we do, what we need to do; we give it reason and purpose because it fills our voids and validates our existence. Meh.
So, I ramble. I don’t speak concisely. And I really don’t care because I have a voice. That’s another thing I was told this weekend. I have a voice and I need to use it, use it, use it. Be courageous. And if that means being unconventional, then goddamn convention, and while I hope you don’t mind, I don’t give a fuck what you think. I’m certainly interested in it, though.
I wonder what my conclusion is. I don’t know because there never is one. We just keep going. We live and we die. You may want to look for a deeper meaning for this process, or you may just want to start doing. I am circumstantial. I am vulnerable. I am emotional. I am logically illogical. Or maybe it is illogically logical. My life is not governed by some complex principle, some philosophy that is going to shape my thoughts and actions. Maybe some premises, but, on the whole I am still just confused as a small child. Only now I am aware of it. The point is, this is the end. But really, it is only just the beginning. Because we don’t know where the end is.
Now I’m going to make like a radio and tune this wavelength back to reality. And try to turn some of my dreams into thoughts, thoughts into actions.
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