I was remembering recently the fond days when I would sit in the Guidance Office at CBA and just rattle away at the old keyboards, producing all manner of nonsensical prose. I know memory tends to distort things for the better, but I also know that even at the time I loved those days. I've mentioned before to a bunch of people that I used to be convinced that people who claimed high school as the best years of one's life were wrong, and I would have the time of my life come college, and of course how my subsequent college experience actually led me to believe those people had been right all along. Well, the jury is still really out on that one. I have a lot of gripes about my college experience, but I also have some really great experiences that I wouldn't have gotten otherwise.
I don't know where I'm going with this today, it just felt like it was time to metaphorically dust off this potentially hefty tome full of insight into my weird mind. The last time I wrote a blog (it was at this address, when I was starry-eyed and convinced I was going to reinstate old good habits) was in August before classes had a chance to start up and make me hate my life...not really. And the last time before that was June of 2009, which is practically ancient history. That was a time steeped in television and Knights of the Old Republic and Little League baseball--in short anything that could distract the wheels of my mind from turning too much. It's a time I honestly don't remember that much. It's like Nega-Chris has left the building...only unlike Bryan Lee O'Malley, I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. (That was a reference to the book version of Scott Pilgrim, mind you, which I didn't like as much. It just made contextual sense.)
There's a weird thing about the past, and that's that everyone was an inferior person back then. The good memories that we relate come in one of two forms, really. The first is a sort of amoral anecdote that entertains but has no strong substance; it just kind of happened and it might temporarily provide a conversation piece. The second is a story that just illustrates that back then we used to be ignorant, careless, or just dumb. Whether it's a horror story (the kind that spills out during those intense heart-to-heart bonding sessions we usually only have with people we trust) or just something to allow everyone to laugh at our expense (even we the storyteller), it has the same message. In other words, it might be "I regret some of the stupid things I've done" or "Look how funny this one instance of my past stupidity turned out," the common theme is that we're in a more enlightened place.
I do wish I could recapture the whimsical spirit of those many hours in the Guidance Office between 10th and 12th grade. The ability to unleash my absurd creativity was liberating. I think I did some of my best work then, or at least demonstrated my potential more clearly than at any other point. I'm not a stuffy academic. I don't belong pigeon-holed into a strict path of learning that siphons off the more charismatic parts of my mind in favor of rigorous dedication to precision and numbers. Life is not glamorous...that is, if we don't make it so. I hereby dedicate this blog and its subsequent posts to the rediscovery of childlike wonderment, a lively sense of humor, and all things good and pleasant in this heretofore underrated life of mine. I'm going to enjoy this, dang it, because enjoyment is what I enjoy most.
I love the progression of thought and the engine of writing. It always leads me to exactly the conclusion I needed to reach. It's a wonderful form of enlightenment, perfectly-paced and meandering like a mid-Autumn stroll around RPI with Billy, Lauren, and Missy Elliott. And with that weird simile, I leave to do great and wondrous things for the rest of the day.
Godspeed.
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