I was on the run from some kind of sinister organization, or I had simply run away from everything. I think my wife was with me in this one, though. I found myself at “Iowa State University,” or so it was described in the dream. Except, the campus was full of huge buildings made to look like old gothic castles. I mean, the buildings were so massive, that even though I have never been to Iowa State, and am not even going to bother to Google it for pictures, I am certain that these buildings outsized anything the real life. My wife and I came to a cafeteria where there were some prepared options sitting out on a buffet table. Our plan was to steal some pizza since we had no money. Getting out of the building once we’d gotten in was like in most dreams–everything changed and the way out looked nothing like the way in. Somehow, we ended up at a kayak adventure place that made fake whitewater rapids like the place in Charlotte. My kayak kept going under the water, though it still kind of floated.

Special blue tag to get into a heavily guarded group of VIPs who turned out to be just a bunch of retirees at a continuing adult education seminar. I was delivering them what looked like a work order from MCE but it had valuable information from other companies I worked for in it. Turned out, nobody had requested it and I wondered why I was there. I sat down, and found I was next to RW from UW. She grabbed my hand and held it to me as if she really loved me. In real life she always bristled around me and treated me coldly.

Dream of trying to find my parents’ old blue Ford Tempo in a parking lot by beeping my key as if it were a newer car. I kept hearing it beep but couldn’t find it. Finally, I discovered an old Chrysler Plymouth was making the beeping and my key fit the car and started it. The owner had installed a record turntable on the dashboar and had 70s hard rock albums.

Somehow got sucked into a militia compound that was trying to recruit me and this other guy, but mostly the other guy, who was some kind of paramilitary sort, but a lone wolf. He looked kind of liked Cory Feldman and talked and acted like him from the movie The Lost Boys. The militia was in the process of initiating a woman by blindfolding her and setting her on a big hammock swing that they swung back and forth (was like one some FB friend had posted in his feed). The militia looked mostly like you would expect, except they wore camouflage shorts with colorfully decorated women’s leggings underneath. The Cory Feldman character mocked them for it, but they were pretty pleased with their fashion choices.

I haven’t taken a sleep aid for two nights in a row, and so I don’t sleep as well, dream more, am crabbier during the day, but have more ideas and speak more articulately during work meetings. All in all, the sleep aid has its clear tradeoffs, and it is hard sometimes to decide if it is worthwhile to have or not.

Work has become pretty much like every other job–I’ve past the point where it’s challenging, interesting, easy–now it’s boring and routine and full of the usual unrealistic expectations that bosses have.

I am pretty pleased with the new home. Drove by the apartment to get some of the stuff we left over there, and was immediately reminded of the shitty parking, heavy bass and loud stomping above us. No pot smoking/dealing in the stairwell/nearby cars, but I’m sure it was about to start soon.

I keep having urges to get back into learning math, and I’m trying to analyze where these are coming from. Are they just the same old desire to prove to the world (and perhaps myself) how smart I am? A longing for truths that are immutable/undisputable? Simple boredom with religious studies, poetry, literature, etc., and a desire to get into more scientific reading again that will pass in a few months?

I suppose now that I have declared my clear intent to never go back to school and further my education in any sort of way, it really doesn’t matter what books I keep by my bed and read in my spare time. But, I also have this sense of wasting my time when I get fairly far into a random nove from the library and realize that it is doing absolutely nothing to enrich/better me, and only marginally entertaining me.

My son is progressing pretty rapidly with his development, even as most days it seems so non-discrete in his jumps of developmental progress. When I actually take a second to think about how he is intelligently forming more sentences/thoughts, and recognizing more words in books, I am happy that he is going to be a solid smart kid in his classes, but probably will never be one of those child prodigies who goes off to MIT at the age of 10. And I’m okay with that. I’d rather have a son who remembers his childhood as being pretty happy and normal than one who knows he was pegged as the weird/different outsider kid from almost day one.

This time that I am now living in.

This time that I am now living in. I can’t say that I have any confidence in how to proceed. Based on previous experiences with market bubbles that burst, I believe that I will probably lose my job in the next year due to the market taking a tumble. My game plan for what should follow is rather slim. I would like to reach a stable place where I have firmly decided that I am going to learn and do one thing incredibly well, and stick with it.

I wish that I could describe what it feels like to have the aging process slowly creeping in. My mind wants to wander and chase down whatever dreams pop up under my eyelids. I no longer have this hard, solid sense of urgency about me, to learn and do one thing especially well. It’s almost like I’d rather just read books, watch TV and get drunk. And, I don’t mean books of any substance, either.

In earlier years, I might have read a lot into what is happening with the world, and become convinced that everything we know to be good and true and pleasant is about to end as we move into a stage where the US is piss poor and half of it is missing from some terrible misadventure caused by a reckless so-called President.

Now, I can’t say as I have any idea, really. All of the things I expected to happen from the Bush Administration having a 90% approval rating following 9/11 never materialized. All of the things I expected to happen with my own individual life never happened. I simply continued to go about my business, and more or less ended up living my life like anyone else from my time and place of origination.

Maybe someday we’ll be sitting on a beach having a conversation about all of this

Maybe someday we’ll be sitting on a beach having a conversation about all of this. I’ll have a few moments to actually gather my thoughts and reflect upon them, obtaining a true sense of how far I’ve come and where I am headed. The world will reset itself and will calm down to a different kind of speed.

I still have dreams of a young man that went unfulfilled before I realized I had to stop pretending that the dreams were right around the corner, and suck it up, and begin fulfilling my householder duties.

I don’t think I will be able to avoid being sent back here, if a clinging and longing for this world is how you get back here with all of your memories wiped.
But that doesn’t mean I haven’t stopped striving for the kind of purity where I am only thinking, saying and doing what is absolutely essential toward me discovering the Truth about my existence.

Wouldn’t it be grand if my mind could find a way toward precision mixed with highly meaningful novelty? By highly meaningful, I mean both useful to the outside world in obtaining new insights into reality, as well as full of important significance in the metaphysical sense.

I think maybe there is this serum of which we are given some measured quantity when we are young, and most of us don’t realize that as adults it is up to us to produce it ourselves, or not. Most of us choose not, because we don’t realize that it is up to us to keep producing it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be awake and directing the flow of the energy or the thoughts or actions, or what have you. There are many ways this gets described, such as being proactive instead of passive, or mindful instead of asleep or on autopilot. Except, there are these moments when I get insights into this way of being that tell me none of the available terms and descriptions have adequately covered the awake and active state.

A child can be awake and active, but she is still very much of a mind that the world is acting upon her, that her parents and other adult figures must provide for her. A young adult is more awake and asserts his independence, but he too continues to seek out a flow to latch onto and go with and ride upon.

It’s almost as if even the driver vs. passenger analogy isn’t enough. Being a driver implies you are still getting some assistance from a vehicle. But, what if you should reach a point in your existence when you are completely powering it all by virtue of your own will? You are the vehicle as well as the driver. You are the one who decides how quickly you are going to get there and how long you are going to stay.

It’s up to you to say you are on a path, a journey of discovery, vs. that moment you get sick of always being on the road to betterment, and why not wake up one day and just say, “I am no longer on the road, I am at the destination, and I will stay here no matter what, damnit!”

But, you have to temper this to some degree if you aren’t ready for it yet, or you are unsure of what it means. You can be at your destination, or think you are there, and start acting cocky instead of confident, arrogant instead of assertive, etc.
You want so badly to smash the doors in and just get on with it, and yet something still holds you back, saying, wait, it’s not your time even yet.

If you sit here and wait, it will come to you. You must be awake, and full of expectation. You must be ready to live, thrive, grow, be awake and be moving forward. You are free of anxiety and tension, but you are not lapsing back into a mental state where someone will carry you or drive you to your destination.

An old era ended.

An old era ended. The old ache, the old will left me. But, the march didn’t cease, it just changed directions. What was once a certain, steady drumbeat for a high and mighty vocation is now an unceasing push to carry on. I swallowed my pride and returned to the old work. I bowed my head and submitted to bosses and managers who I knew would endlessly frustrate me. I prepared for the two hours of round trip driving in stop and go traffic. I swallowed my pride, again.
But, one thing that I am doing differently, is reminding myself each and every day that this is not the end-all-be-all place where I will work until I die. What’s more, I may yet have something more to offer the world that has nothing to do with where I’ve been or where I am.

this message is for some random young fool

this message is for some random young fool, lost at sea, adrift beyond the point of no return. back when i was your age, i thought i was ancient and beyond repair. and then, i lived another twenty years like they were nothing at all. i thought i had cares in the world and then i woke up with too many cares to bother with caring about them.

the soul i held in high regard, the one i lifted up and clutched as being so precious, became besmirched by so many attempts to engage with the natives. if i was going to get to heaven, surely there must be some kind of clause i hadn’t heard of.

The latest technology that will transform everything

The latest technology that will transform everything. This is huge. You will want to have it. You won’t be able to live without it.

I want something that will transform me for the better. I am not sure if any technology that I’ve embraced in my lifetime has transformed me for the better. Would I probably be constantly sick or dead without some food safety technologies and advances in health and medicine? Maybe. Except, I am not so sure that I wouldn’t be a similar man in a similar role with all of my similar flaws, were I to have been born a hundred years earlier. Assuming I had survived wars and waves of diseases, I would probably be working as a clerk in a bank, a bookkeeper in a business, a teacher at a high school, a librarian, etc. There is no reason to believe that I couldn’t have figured out how to master the world of 1917 as a forty-something, any more or less than how much I’ve mastered this one.

When I talk about being transformed, I am speaking of something or someone I might believe constitutes the essence of myself becoming something more than or other than who or what I was. For example, I am reasonably competent with high school math, and I can generally follow along with popular math books for the lay person, but I am lost when I start trying to actually do math that is taught in pre-Calc or Calc classes during the Freshman year of most college students. Clearly, there are some individuals who are capable of rapidly understanding the underlying patterns that constitute some such high abstraction, and manipulating the symbols to produce novel theorems and proofs, or at the very least, excel in higher math classes with minimal effort. Why can’t we come up with some type of technology that will just zap the areas in my brain that are deficient at understanding higher math, and make it quite easy to understand?

Naturally, the response might be that I am opposed to hard work–like someone who opts for bariatric surgery instead of trying to diet and exercise their way to thindom. But, this isn’t necessarily the case. I put in tedious hours every week manipulating data and performing routine functions in an office. I do these things because the payoff is quite clear and always available. If my employer stopped paying me, I would stop working for them and vice versa. Except when it comes to attempting to understand more mathematical concepts, the correlation is never so clear. I might spend months plugging away at a college textbook and a problem solvers book and become minimally reacquainted with some of the things that I used to know. Outside of that, I find myself continually thwarted and frustrated by how many times I can’t seem to actually get a math problem correct and how many things I thought I was beginning to understand that I really do not.

What is the payoff for such an investment? A few months where my brain seems to operate at a slightly more optimal level of cognition before I forget everything again and fall back into my old ways of lapsing into my dreams and writing out my stream of consciousness thoughts. I catch enough glimpses of the beauty of mathematics to make it ever-tantalizing for me, but nothing is ever revealed to the point where I would be certain that I, too, might master higher math one day.

It’s difficult to explain, then, what such a transformation of myself would really look like. Becoming good at math is simply one example illustrating one tiny piece of the puzzle. The real change involves a complete overhaul in the way that I think about any given thing when it is brought to my attention, be it a math problem, a painting, a poem, a work of art, a technical or human problem at work, etc. Most of my efforts to meet such things are based on an autopilot mode of being that has for better or worse been locked into place since the end of high school with the only changes happening by degree.

Wouldn’t it be of some exceptional note if I could pick one thing to work toward for the rest of my life and wake up on the last morning of my life having discovered that I was irrevocably altered for the better due to my strivings? I’ve stated elsewhere many times over what my vices and problems are–my character flaws that seem to repeat themselves with much regularity no matter how far along I think that I’ve come.

I’m no fool who still believes that he can step outside of time itself and play around like a merry joker/prankster, dancing in between all of the games of humanity that humans take so deadly seriously. I am caught up in the crush of time like anyone else. I am inextricably woven into the fabric of a single story that will be told, and my impact is marginal at best. There is no time travel, because it would completely destroy me.

I can’t possibly begin to accept that the world will look much like it does today some fifty years from now when I could be drawing my last breaths. Perhaps God will be merciful to me, but I can’t completely believe that, knowing how little I’ve removed the bad parts from me. It would seem that you could unrealistically damn or praise yourself too much–all in the name of hubris or ego. You may not even be worth so much as to be as damned as you think you are. The anger in the Bible directed toward those who would be damned may be reserved for those who are especially heinous or especially grand in their crimes and sins.

I fancy myself to be a big person too much, when, all the while I should know better. I am indeed one of the little people. I am destined to live a life that is mostly spent dreaming and being half awake to engage with others who are similarly still slumbering.

You may have already figured this out, I don’t know.

You may have already figured this out, I don’t know. This world, the one we call our home, is stacked with more mysteries than your poor soul can ever possibly comprehend. There are things happening within every single second of time that could blow your mind. The odds that you have a handle, a grasp on what is really what, are so slim to none, that you’d be better off slipping back into the dark night of dreams than to determine what is up and what is down.