ebay, this one's for you


Ok, I'm chugging NyQuil like it's water, my nose looks like it'd be more at home on Bozo the Clown, but I STILL have someone on my back to blog...since the NyQuil is currently taking away my ability to write coherently, or really even form a good sentence, I'm printing the "Best of the Oldies". This particular ramble was written June 21st 2002. What it means...well you all can figure that one out. It might explain some things, it might not...

I'm a Quoter. Quotes, they've always appealed to the rather large part of my personality affectionately known as "Bookworm." There's just something so *right* about a set of words and phrases elegantly placed together, a wrapped gift of thoughts, expressing a sentiment or perfectly showcasing an emotion or moment. There always seemed to be a quote for everything, sad, happy, angry, even for times when the mind was such a confused whirlwind that no matter which way you looked you couldn't tell up. Always there were words, whether to explain the feeling of looking into the abyss...or the feeling when the abyss looked back at you. And those few times when there wasn't that perfect quote...I could write something that expressed my deepest, innermost thoughts. It came from a place inside that was primitive, primal, emotional, and quintessentially me.

But what happens when there is no quote to express the feelings and the feelings are so complex and involved that you can't define them to yourself, much less express them in something as paltry as written language?

If it's true, that life is what happens when we're paying attention to other things...then what do we call it when we're not paying attention to other things? What is the word for that experience?

And what do you do when you're drowning in an ocean of emotion and feeling, and there isn't anything you can hold on to, not a piece of driftwood, nothing, and not so much as the horizon to look to for a stabilizing influence?

Where is the quote that describes that feeling? Where is the rich, alliterative, language that describes the process of growing up?

Maybe, just maybe, life is what happens when we stop relying on others to express our feelings and emotions. Maybe growing up is realizing that we don't need driftwood to help us float...all we need to do is get rid of the heavy lead weights we're carrying, and learn how to swim on our own.

Maybe it's about realizing the horizon is nothing more than a set of training wheels we don't need.

Or maybe I'm wrong.