~ summer of 78 ~ yann tiersen ~
i have a real fondness for words. i must, for there is a sometimes-urgent need to make them beautiful, or expressive in some way. to have a flow to them. to represent the mood of an idea.
i wonder where that fondness comes from or which experiences in my past led to that.
it’s definitely a brainfuck: we are the sum of our decisions, their repercussions and our subsequent reactions.
the end of star trek – the next generation just made me tear up.
because we all grow old and die.
because time flows past us, is ephemeral.
because everything eventually changes.
also, because star trek – the next generation is now over for me.
i will never be sitting at the end of my bed, in downtown toronto, with my girlfriend sleep-breathing beside me, watching seemingly endless star trek tng, while typing blog entries and flashing wm 6.5.3 on my phone.
one day i will look back at this moment, if i can recall it with any clarity and reflect on the days i spent in toronto, on some other terribly vague generalization of the past.
some day i will grow old.
some day i will die.
it isn’t the death that bothers me i suppose, but the knowledge that it is to arrive, the knowledge that everything that happens from when i am born to my eventual death will probably mean nothing in the end.
ah, wasn’t that saturday morning’s cheery rays of sun coming over the horizon?
I can’t seem to stop thinking about this concept, safely tucking it under my spatial wings.
Every time you do a certain activity, even as simple as eating ice cream, solidifies it’s own burgeoning identity. It is like a cloud of ice cream eating memories, constantly changing your opinion about ice cream, distorting past memories, manipulating future encounters.
I think about eating ice cream a lot. When I was young, we didn’t get a chance to eat it often at all, and my desire for it was great. Was it because kids love them some sweets? Was it because of the inability to attain it? Perhaps both.
Ice cream just doesn’t hold the same appeal or desire. It is common place for me.
Some days, I intensely crave a simplicity I no longer seem to be able to attain. I wish to wake up and sit cross-legged, staring out from the middle of a lake, on the edge of my sparse Japanese style dwelling, meditating, being able to register only the sounds of the untouched world around me.
Such simplicity could bring back the instant smiles at just the thought of things.
In this sense, ignorance really is blissful.
Lately I’ve been pondering the concept of knowledge more than usual.
During the huge changes in my life in my early 20s, I began voraciously seeking scientific knowledge. Previously this had been a no-no. I had been learning about science but only in a very controlled manner.
The more I learn however, the more I realize I don’t actually know. I’ve started postulate and intermixing theories from different disciplines. My proverbial world is really opening up. Some days my head feels like it will explode. The weight of all that knowledge either presses heavily and wearily upon me, or lifts me up weightlessly. (For example, so many things in life and science are both ends of the extreme at the same time! How can this be?)
I can see the benefits to shoving ones head in the sand, or at the very least, being capable of shoving ones head in the sand. I am not at a position in life where I can do this (it seems). I doom myself to quest after knowledge I can never truly have. I will feel hurt and beat myself up over not being capable of attaining all “truth” and knowledge.
Maybe I’ll grow up and get over this fact. Perhaps my advancement is just retarded. Ironically, it is more intelligent to be less intelligent.