Recently I was joking with my brother about how I got the bad end of the genetics from our parents. I mentioned that, among the bad hair and sight problems, I had gotten all of the anxiety from my parents and it had compounded in me. It was at this point that his roommate looked at me and said, “Yeah, but you can get over that”. I was expecting a joking answer when I asked him how to do so; in all seriousness he told me, “You just decide not to.” Decide not to? You mean to tell me this is a matter of choice? You think that this is something I choose to keep subjecting myself to?
“You know that people love you and care about you, right?” How many times have I answered that question? How many times have I answered with the same answer? I’ve always nodded and assured whoever was asking that I knew I was cared for and loved; objectively speaking I know that there are people who truly care for me. I know there are. I know it. I know.
Meeting a girl for the first time:
I introduce myself as normally as I possibly can as to give the illusion that I’m not already imaging what it would be like to hold this beautiful women as we sway to the rhythm of “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” by John Mayer. Oh crap this handshake has now lasted too long.
Language is a funny construct. It is the basis for our communication, separated and splintered over the world. There are roughly 6,500 recognized, spoken languages in the world. Language, however, is far more expansive.
There are languages made for emotions and states of mind. There is a language associated with being honest and one associated with lying. There is a language for hate and one for kindness. There is a language for acceptance and one for excommunication. For many people, these languages are not consciously tapped into. We naturally use them when we need them. However, there are people who recognize the existence of these languages and their purposes; this in turn allows them to use these languages as they see fit. Everyone can pretend to feel a certain way, but not everyone can be truly bilingual in this way. Not everyone can recognize and apply the nuances of feelings as they deem necessary.
Okkkk. First run in about 4 months. This is going to be great. Going to get back in shape and start living healthier. Just going to start my awesome workout playlist and timer. I should invest in a GPS watch to track my distance and pace since I’m going to be making this such a big part of my life now.
Quarter mile in:
I don’t know why I ever stopped running! This is great! Got my music going and it’s not too hot.
3/4 mile in:
Ok I’m getting a little tired now. But only about two more miles to go. I got this. Just going to keep blaring my music and breathing and I’ll be fine.
End of mile 1:
For not having done this in a while, I killed that first mile. I’m a little winded, but I can two more miles of this no problem.
1.25 miles in:
I appear to have hit a wall. My spirit must remain indomitable in this trying time.
Despite my best efforts to bring people to a contrary position, people continue to respect and cherish the works of William Faulkner. I personally can’t understand why his pieces are so celebrated. At the root of my aversion to his writing is the style known as stream of consciousness. It is done by writing thoughts as they would be connected in a person’s mind. In other words, the whole practice is done by writing out a person’s train of thought. Those kinds of random connections are hard to follow. Perhaps it is my ineptitude at deciphering cryptic pieces of literature that were written in form of cognitive torrents. Following thought like that leads to a what I, and many others, call going down the rabbit hole. This is when you chase an idea wherever it leads. It can take you places that you never intended to go and that can end up being good or awful.