Notes from One Plateau of a Thousand
I sometimes feel that I should write in this thing when I've cleared some kind of hurdle, when I've gone through some kind of life-defining (or at least interesting) event. It's as if I'm afraid my memories will escape me as I put more and more space and time between them, as if the feelings of some kind of superficially meaningful moment need to be reinforced by a piece of writing and associated commentary. Do I really need that kind of validation for my own thought processes? Do I really have that little faith in my own memory?
So a recap, maybe? chicago, awful fucking thanksgiving, stasis, nelson algren being amazing, black dice show, dressed as a mime on the shores of lake michigan, bread on saturday afternoons, cold weather, hot weather, wet weather, dry weather, eating rotten apples on frozen street corners, wearing a stolen jacket, curating a dance party that gave me some semblance of enjoyment for a few days, and watching quite a few good westerns... some other bullshit probably.
I keep saying that I'm done with college, and that I'm ready for the world after, but I don't know that I really am. I know that I don't want to be in college for another minute, but I have no real drive to do anything after. As Amanda very bluntly put it "You don't care about your own health, you have no real aspirations for a career or family, why are you here?" So why am I? It's a good question, and one that deserves some degree of personal introspection, but one that is probably fundamentally unanswerable in any way other than tautology: I am here because I am here. I am here because I am here, stasis be damned, and will continue to shuffle along for some time, disjointed in a perpetual dream state, until I get to Thailand. Which is probably me using travel as a way to put space between self and past. But fuck that, life is not supposed to be a bad parody of a Wes Anderson movie.
That says about all I care to about my life to date... and that's why I'm supposed to keep a blog, right? To fit my life into a neat framework free of subtletly and open for public review.
So a recap, maybe? chicago, awful fucking thanksgiving, stasis, nelson algren being amazing, black dice show, dressed as a mime on the shores of lake michigan, bread on saturday afternoons, cold weather, hot weather, wet weather, dry weather, eating rotten apples on frozen street corners, wearing a stolen jacket, curating a dance party that gave me some semblance of enjoyment for a few days, and watching quite a few good westerns... some other bullshit probably.
I keep saying that I'm done with college, and that I'm ready for the world after, but I don't know that I really am. I know that I don't want to be in college for another minute, but I have no real drive to do anything after. As Amanda very bluntly put it "You don't care about your own health, you have no real aspirations for a career or family, why are you here?" So why am I? It's a good question, and one that deserves some degree of personal introspection, but one that is probably fundamentally unanswerable in any way other than tautology: I am here because I am here. I am here because I am here, stasis be damned, and will continue to shuffle along for some time, disjointed in a perpetual dream state, until I get to Thailand. Which is probably me using travel as a way to put space between self and past. But fuck that, life is not supposed to be a bad parody of a Wes Anderson movie.
That says about all I care to about my life to date... and that's why I'm supposed to keep a blog, right? To fit my life into a neat framework free of subtletly and open for public review.