What am I?

I guess that's the question which races through my mind often enough that I wonder what my time on Earth is for almost constantly. I can more easily answer the things I am not often, but knowing what you are is a brute force concept. I think I am a slacker. It's something I enjoy. I've never really been too attached to my work, and I don't imagine that will change drastically, but there are of course ways of looking at it that I can imagine.

I sit a lot at work. That's a plus on the slacker role. I basically can use the internet during work too, although I try and keep it to mildly related things or things that will keep me sane while I'm waiting between calls.

Writing is also something I often turn to for solace. There's something reassuring about knowing that I can explore the depths of my mind just by writing, no matter how whacky it is, it's just words on a page. Nostalgia and regressing have been the name of the game lately as I cling onto my already established notes of sanity. Birthday parties, Christmas, sports. There are so many things which I actually already love and discovering them again has been a joy. The same with music as it is in a way a mirror of my own love in the world.

It's amazing how much of me is actually very reserved and conservative. I have tried to go outside that bubble and only found confusion. Chaos is chaos really and rules are rules. One chaos does not necessarily equal another chaos though, and there are so many ways that logic have helped me.

I'm not sure if I'll ever be a professional writer. I don't really know what kind of writer I am anyway. It seems that the only thing that really keeps my interest is writing about myself, so maybe that's what will happen.

In the mean time, I'm sure the luxuries of comfort exploration will do something for me. I might get a TV. Maybe I'll start knitting. Maybe I'll just play video games in the down time I get sick of writing about myself. Money would be nice. I guess I'll have to think about that too. I'd love to love my job but not be consumed by it.

The paths of being human are immense, but I just can't help the feeling that I'm missing something now. Maybe somebody, and that will always be. I want to get closer to my family before it's too late. I want to be back in Iowa all the time. Homesickness just never seems to end. Maybe the best way to study home, however, is from afar.

Maybe I'll be into history, who knows. The minutia which occupy my mind might go on and on now. I hope they do actually.

Normality restoring at a probability of 3:1

Well, it looks like things are pretty much coming back to smooth sailing for me now. All I can say is that a bit of deep-reflection, love and acceptance and affirmation of the flowing and purifying rivers of time can really make a guy feel a bit better about the nature of things.

Anyway, I've decided that this blog should become more of a compilation of creative ideas and things seen along the realm of individuality and fascinating expression, especially visual, as those are the things that light up my every day. For now we'll go with that as an introduction, and move through the future as it develops in the next turnpike of the Transcendental Highway.

Living Light

Although the movies often live stories like lives, moving light. Guess I'm getting tired of party tricks myself, but my mind wants to dance, and maybe it does for all I know. Fuzz of self-reflective chattering voices that now regularly touch my soul like notes in a sad song on Galaxy M95, Radio Subgalactic. Ring Galaxies... I can't even bear to mention their names. Some things have don't have names yet, but only because we haven't given them ones yet. And, "What's really in a name?" the personal critics of perceptions challenge other critics. "A rose is a rose is a rose." Did somebody really write that? That's a nice approach, but I encourage you to make up your own mind and not mine.

I have to keep remembering that I'm not an expert at these things, or if they're just the consequence of my own misunderstandings, but I was just remembering some of my recent thoughts on chakras. According to Wikipedia, a chakra is a Sansrkit word that translates as wheel or disc or turning. Chakra is a concept referring to wheel-like vortices which, according to traditional Indian medicine, are believed to exist in the surface of the etheric double of man.

In many ways light and sound are the same within these transcendental crevices as far as my first approach to them knows. I'd have to say it's something like a musical note in a chord. Like an instrument string, it is a c[h]ord in the soul, a rubber mallet upon the fragilely flexible glass strings of unproportioned size or dimension in the universe of one's spine. Why they always look like stoplights is a creative design choice.

Anyway, one other thing to mention and reflect on for now, iGoogle is sort of like a portal of "of the day" facts, a rather high-tech form of divination. Of course if you look up divination in wikipedia, you'll notice that divination is possible through nearly everything. The bible verse for yesterday, when I started writing this was this:

Ephesians 1:18 The eyes of your understanding being enlightened; that ye may know what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches of the glory of his inheritance in the saints

Human After All

So, here I am, in the city, starting a blog out of my own necessity to share minutia with my cosmologically indifferent fan base. Of course I meant the bedside fan I left at home, which at one point was a priority. Tip of my hat to you, and welcome if you're out there, or in here.

Out of my own need to suffer gloriously for the hosannic cause of grocery shopping in the ever cosmopolotonically changing Fred Meyer, I'm typing out my jibber jabber over a half empty pie tin of peach pie. Epic demarcations of inspiration sentinel my impulses like the bad dreams of over-dramatic Jungian juries of your character, laughing as you involuntarily submit to a compulsory expose. Alright, you caught me already, I'm the dramatic one. I suggest everyone have a costume trunk and a hat collection for personal prosperity, because after all, if you can't walk the talk, then you might as well keep your mouth shut.

Chuck Berry's singing Almost Grown on the fascinating synchronicity of iTunes Genius. If you're looking for proof of God, I suggest any of Apple's fine line of products from the shuffle to Genius, and do yourself the simplest of simples when you're listening to your "random" music, that is: "What am I thinking about?"

Perhaps my laptop should be named Nancy, because she's so graceful and classy, but to answer your question, no, I still don't know who Tom is either, although the name originates in Aramaic and means "twin." My philia is noted in the subject of names now. [And an edit: Today I had a call for an author named Donat as I was reading about about Donuts. Then a call from the first ever Ishiwa. Any experiences with these names?]

Thanks for listenin', I'm going to eat my pizza.