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| I feel as though over the last year or so I've gradually and exponentially forgotten everything I've ever known. This is the root of a lot of discomfort in my life. I find myself to be perpetually stuck in the past. I don't see this changing in the immediate future until I prefer to revel in and enjoy my memories instead of trying to, unsuccessfully, relive them.
I've begun to compare myself to the season. Autumn: never consistent. Switching endlessly between the sun with the warmth that it accompanies, and the gloomy severe shadow of winter. As for me, I've got one eye on the past and the other set on the elusive and uncoming future. I see that I still have my dreams, but I've never taken the steps to explore or enjoy them. Perhaps someday I'll find the mind to mend it.
The end of the year is always striving to find it's own place among the seasons, but factors outside of it's self bear down and disallow it's independence. Fall needs a means of survival and there are things in this world that it just can't partition itself from. But every year is the same, it seizes it's opportunities as they come to temper itself in something comfortable. I wish I could say that I've done the same. Autumn sings with its persistence, that it's never to late. Though it and all of natures inhabitants are admittedly working on limited resources and time. It is much more beautiful this year than I remember it being in years past.
I noticed this morning when I saw the flocks at rest in my back yard, that birds despite their often unfriendly and skiddish demeanor, are actually very social and intuitive animals. I could see them all as they would tend to their own lives and needs. Scattered around my view, resting on roof tops and hunting insects at an altitude much less than what they're accustomed too. But still they would make time to meet with their pals on suspended powerlines to have a drink and ramble on in good company. Making sure not to over indulge and perpetuate a cycle of sickness and destruction. A simple but effective existence. I'm not always on par, but I'm fair content with it. However I believe I'm missing the point here.
November is the start of registration for college classes here in town. I did plenty of thinking this past night, which is rare these days. I think I finally know what I'd like to do with this next semester.
<i>"Once, I wanted to be the greatest..."</i> those were by far some of the happiest years of my life. I'm not through with this yet. Though I know from experience that it would be better if I didn't try to tackle this all at once. For now I'd rather be a jack than a king.
I've often thought: "if you locked a scholar in a closet for a year he will still come out more knowledgeable than a college kid that never cared. I think I'm prepared to test this assumption. Though success is more of a pipe-dream than anything at this point.
To cut to the chase, I think I would like to devote this next semester to independent study of "nothing in particular". A poor choice by most peoples standards I'm sure. However I've already been down the road, of being undecided and impartial. Last time it cost me several thousand hard earned dollars to do so. It wont be hard to be more successful this time around. At least pound for pound.
It's something to work for, and something to care about. It's... better than spending another paycheck and semester on growing up before my time . I intend to look to the past, but not let it limit me.
Perfection?
Well, if you've never seen it. You'll never miss it.
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| Fashion me and I'll chronicle my life in phantasmal fragments of truth and embellishment.
Trouble me and I'll embrace you.
Feed me, or beat me.
Treasure me and I'll disappoint you.
Give me a reason for pursuit or I'll resent you.
Touch me, lose me.
Cut me and I'll kiss it.
I expect to be done in.
Repression, secession, success and depression. This is the cycle of life.
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| I've been so wrapped up in being a whole that I've fooled myself into being a whole. I'd like to pick my life apart and figure out how it works, but I feel so childish when I look back at the past year, almost infantile. I've got all the knowledge of a two year, but not the curiosity to remedy it. These days I prefer to siphon my time into my bank account, and I'd rather abuse my body than let it take me places. I'd sooner risk my life and destroy it than enjoy it. There is nothing here.
I need to spend some hard time pacing my room. I need to start investing my time and money in myself instead of my future. At this velocity, the future will be much more dead end than the here and now. If I don't cease all things that keep me full, than I'll never be hungry again. I need to start breaking chains and letting complacencies go. I'm so sure that I'll miss them later, but liberty must frequently be refreshed by the blood of patriots.
I stopped looking around because there is nothing here but spiritual homeostasis. I can't remember how to be significant.
Life.
Life.
Life.
Life.
Life...
There is nothing here
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| this is what I get for ironically displaying emotion with out having an audience to play too.
I guess I'll just have to keep dreaming my way home.
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| Oct. 1st. 1 and a half months later, I'm doing half a pack a week. I should quit while I'm ahead.
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