Well Look at Us
Mm mm mm. Not blogging begets more of the same; but any git could say that, and you folks aren't here to read the rantings and musings of just any git. I would like to exhort my comrades in the personal-journal blogosphere to join me in de-assing our seats and getting back into the fun times.
This is the first day all semester that I've had an opportunity to wear one of my superfun, supercool, superawesome shirts outside. The weather has once again become temperate and beautiful, and before I came up to the Life Science Library which often broadcasts my signal, even the great unnatural Cantay sat down to observe what a nice day can do to UT's campus. Of course I only sat for two minutes, but I sat all the same, munching my delicious $0.99 faux-chicken nuggets. I thought back to an article I read yesterday (yes, in The Economist) about how the conservation movement in America was in dire straits as a result of kids these days being grown on indoor and/or urban pleasures rather than those that can be experienced in the great outdoors. Apparently environmentalists and sportsmen are banding together in an unholy alliance to try to get kids, especially non-white kids, interested in world beyond the XBox 360 and Main Street. As a small corollary, I wonder just how well Sony and its massively powerful PS3 are doing; without having read anything, I get the impression that it's not doing too terribly well, especially compared to the debut of the Wii. Nice work, Nintendo. But getting back to the world outside of climate-control, it was very satisfying to see a mostly-clear sky through the leaves of the various trees around West Campus. I didn't realize just how sunshiny the day was until I walked inside UT's main building, which had never seemed more poorly lit in that kind of satisfying, sun-blinded way.
One thing so very frustrating about not writing often is that your brain becomes backlogged with ideas. Everyone knows this, and I'm sure everyone attributes non-desire to write at least partially to that. Ze Frank once compared ideas that were never executed to a sort of brain crack: ideas which people nourish for so long that the perfection of the idea itself and the likely imperfection that will mar it in application lead to the thing never being carried out, since the idea itself seems more comforting than its ugly real-world side. And your brain likes it, but it causes degeneration. Like crack. I get it, and I've succumbed to it, but what about in writing? Ideas that pile one on top of another, so that whether they're creative or contemplative or just plain undefined, the sheer volume to be addressed is too daunting for a mere mortal to take on. But I guess that applies to everything, and not simply writing.
I don't even know if I actually have a lot on my mind. Part of the problem with this public blog is that there are inevitably things we don't want to share with everyone--sometimes anyone. I could easily create a private adjunct to this for myself, but my poor ego would start wondering why I'm doing something that won't inflate him. That I'll have to figure out for myself, but sometimes talking at a wall or a tiny audience can help the mind sort through some things.
Right now I think I need to at once be more alone and more social. Like all those times in high school when I just sat in my room and did my own little thing, interacting with my family and everyone else as little as possible until one of my friends called me and provided some plan for hanging out. Sometimes I'd still want to be alone, but more often than not I'd realize that I was craving friendship right then and leap into action. I wish I had friends that would do that for me here. That last sentence was an example of something, you see, that would be much more appropriate for a private blog. Since, you know, I actually know people here and they could conceivably read this and feel guilted into doing something and create a whole awkward slough of bullshit. I absolutely do not want that. But I won't delete it. Because just typing it was liberating, but if I want to let at least a little weight off my heart I need to be able to read it again.
On another note, I think my tendency to hermitize myself has probably created some amount of resentment towards me within my family. At least for my mother. I know she's said as much on at least one occasion. I wonder if it makes it any better or worse that they probably could have mitigated the effect by offering to do interesting things with me from time to time. I also wonder if that last sentence is actually true.
And I do believe that's quite enough gut-spilling for right now. I have class in twenty minutes, so I think I'll just vegetate a touch and read The Economist's blogs, where the new trend in the comments is to criticize the blogger and complain that he has a leftist bias and/or hearken back to the Good Old Days, when The Economist was known for quality work. My audience may be teeny-tiny and quiet, but at least you guys are regular sweethearts.
Also, thank you very much for writing me, Cathy. I do so like correspondence. I hope you're less familiar with the taste of your own snot by now, and much, much luck with the colleges.
This is the first day all semester that I've had an opportunity to wear one of my superfun, supercool, superawesome shirts outside. The weather has once again become temperate and beautiful, and before I came up to the Life Science Library which often broadcasts my signal, even the great unnatural Cantay sat down to observe what a nice day can do to UT's campus. Of course I only sat for two minutes, but I sat all the same, munching my delicious $0.99 faux-chicken nuggets. I thought back to an article I read yesterday (yes, in The Economist) about how the conservation movement in America was in dire straits as a result of kids these days being grown on indoor and/or urban pleasures rather than those that can be experienced in the great outdoors. Apparently environmentalists and sportsmen are banding together in an unholy alliance to try to get kids, especially non-white kids, interested in world beyond the XBox 360 and Main Street. As a small corollary, I wonder just how well Sony and its massively powerful PS3 are doing; without having read anything, I get the impression that it's not doing too terribly well, especially compared to the debut of the Wii. Nice work, Nintendo. But getting back to the world outside of climate-control, it was very satisfying to see a mostly-clear sky through the leaves of the various trees around West Campus. I didn't realize just how sunshiny the day was until I walked inside UT's main building, which had never seemed more poorly lit in that kind of satisfying, sun-blinded way.
One thing so very frustrating about not writing often is that your brain becomes backlogged with ideas. Everyone knows this, and I'm sure everyone attributes non-desire to write at least partially to that. Ze Frank once compared ideas that were never executed to a sort of brain crack: ideas which people nourish for so long that the perfection of the idea itself and the likely imperfection that will mar it in application lead to the thing never being carried out, since the idea itself seems more comforting than its ugly real-world side. And your brain likes it, but it causes degeneration. Like crack. I get it, and I've succumbed to it, but what about in writing? Ideas that pile one on top of another, so that whether they're creative or contemplative or just plain undefined, the sheer volume to be addressed is too daunting for a mere mortal to take on. But I guess that applies to everything, and not simply writing.
I don't even know if I actually have a lot on my mind. Part of the problem with this public blog is that there are inevitably things we don't want to share with everyone--sometimes anyone. I could easily create a private adjunct to this for myself, but my poor ego would start wondering why I'm doing something that won't inflate him. That I'll have to figure out for myself, but sometimes talking at a wall or a tiny audience can help the mind sort through some things.
Right now I think I need to at once be more alone and more social. Like all those times in high school when I just sat in my room and did my own little thing, interacting with my family and everyone else as little as possible until one of my friends called me and provided some plan for hanging out. Sometimes I'd still want to be alone, but more often than not I'd realize that I was craving friendship right then and leap into action. I wish I had friends that would do that for me here. That last sentence was an example of something, you see, that would be much more appropriate for a private blog. Since, you know, I actually know people here and they could conceivably read this and feel guilted into doing something and create a whole awkward slough of bullshit. I absolutely do not want that. But I won't delete it. Because just typing it was liberating, but if I want to let at least a little weight off my heart I need to be able to read it again.
On another note, I think my tendency to hermitize myself has probably created some amount of resentment towards me within my family. At least for my mother. I know she's said as much on at least one occasion. I wonder if it makes it any better or worse that they probably could have mitigated the effect by offering to do interesting things with me from time to time. I also wonder if that last sentence is actually true.
And I do believe that's quite enough gut-spilling for right now. I have class in twenty minutes, so I think I'll just vegetate a touch and read The Economist's blogs, where the new trend in the comments is to criticize the blogger and complain that he has a leftist bias and/or hearken back to the Good Old Days, when The Economist was known for quality work. My audience may be teeny-tiny and quiet, but at least you guys are regular sweethearts.
Also, thank you very much for writing me, Cathy. I do so like correspondence. I hope you're less familiar with the taste of your own snot by now, and much, much luck with the colleges.
Labels: awkward stuff, boring stuff, nature, writing
1 Comments:
At 20 February, 2007 02:54,
Laura Borealis said…
You're so inspirational, Cantay.
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