Monday, June 2, 2008
I Am No Longer Young (Pt. 1 of 2)
I'll bet that a lot of you have been wondering were I've been the last few months. I really haven't been writing much on here. I guess you would have to chalk it up to a situation of motivation. I don't really have a substantial amount at these times. This has been the norm for the last few months. I figured I would at least offer my excuse here. It seems as good a place as any. I have been without inspiration for a while now and I really see no end in site to these massive doldrums. I would love to just lift myself from this muck, but I just haven't had the strength. I will get mild plights of sudden thought but, given a few minutes, it's gone along with the muse that it rode in on. I am sorry to say that I have nothing inspiring to tell you; no in-sight of profound proportions has brought my gaze away from the feeling of pure, honest being. While just being isn't necessarily bad, it is a bit stagnant for my palette.
I was at a wedding last weekend that seemingly removed me from this castrated being. While it did lift the feeling of, well, indifference that plagues me, if only temporarily, it didn't seem to get at the root of the problem. Some may classify this as an early mid-life crisis but I would like to argue formal semantics with any one individual of such a shallow opinion. This goes a bit deeper than that as everything else in my life. Probing questions and attempting to solve insolvable problems can usually drag down a mood and make the invincibility of youth that guards you shrink away in fear. I am no longer young. My questions keep mounting as I read further. A quest for knowledge or an understanding of life, meaning, existence and everything is equivalent to walking into a house that you thought had two rooms but, instead, it turns out to be a thousand. There really is no end to learning.
Some of the best lessons always turn out to be the simplest. My grandfather (Oscar, for those that ask) taught me one of the best as a child. I remember asking him who he had voted for after the 1988 Presidential Election. He told me that he never tells people who he voted for. As far as I know, all those votes went to the grave with him. The moral of the story?
Everyone roots for a bad guy occasionally. Just never tell anyone which one you were rooting for. It will show your character.
Looking back on what little I knew of his life before me, I can tell that mistakes were made. But, that wasn't what mattered to him. Einstein made mistakes (lambda), as did Napoleon (Russian Invasion). So, then there is two logical questions at this point.
What is my mistake?
What are my flaws?
From what I can gander at from this vantage point, I would say that the second question is far easier to answer. I'm indifferent, cold, in-human in thought more often than not, I have creative droughts that last for months at a time, and I have an inability for intimacy with anyone. Some will posit that I am uncaring and they would be well within their bounds to declare such a misunderstanding of me. I don't actually bond well with many people, family being the hardest. Having bonds that are of a "blood" type does not mean, to me anyway, that I will necessarily stay at the side of that individual no matter what. Blood doesn't always come first to me. Ethically, it is wrong to put family first no matter the consequences. They're only human and they're not always the right choice. Ethically, it's better to do the right thing. Family bonds don't always offer this option. These are my "flaws" if you would so deem them.
The first question isn't so easy.