Deep thought should not be something a person pursues after several weeks without proper sleep. However, it is arguable in some circles that sleep deprivation, much like meditating through pain, opens new doors of consciousness revelation. Well, as I sit here wide awake at 12:26am with a gurgling stomach and dilated pupils, my kitten roaming around my laptop is a quaint reminder of energy resources found in the middle of the night.

I guess she sensed that I was writing about her and decided to go elsewhere out of rambling reach.

Weeks have been spent working and eating at various restaurants with friends, all the while spending next to no time with my husband of only one year. He is busy with school, studies, and work so I have had to find new avenues to spend my time. Work and lesson planning can all but take up so much time. Essay editing and private tutoring are difficult and time-consuming but only to a certain extent. I've found myself forcing hobbies and over-extending natural levels of interest. I fear this will kill any free-spirited enthusiasm I may have had prior to this dilemma.

While on a run (another newly acquired hobby), I realized something in between the wheezing and back pain.

I've been a loner all my life and never once felt lonely. Only after I got married did I begin to experience what loneliness feels like.

One can never be more alone than alone if he or she is always solitary, but when another person is placed into consideration, there now exists a contrast that offers a clearer definition of what "alone" and "lonely" are. I've always chosen to be alone as far back as I can remember and not once do I recall feeling lonely. Now, with husband sleeping and I fighting another long sleepless night, it's painful to contemplate such realities.

Am I upset? No.

Am I sad? Of course.

Am I worried? On many levels.

I have, over the past few months, come to terms with myself that I should not expect anything from my husband because he is so busy and absorbed in things other than our marriage and me, and rightfully so...I suppose. I've gotten tired of questioning him and his level of investment in this relationship. I've stopped making excuses for him and feeling pathetic and worthless. I've tried being patient and supportive and the more of that I do, the less I get in return. 

It's odd (and hurtful) to observe that the only time I get any interaction or acknowledgment is when he either thinks I'm upset or sad. Otherwise, all I get is a hug, a kiss, some hand-holding, and obligatory sex which I at this point find insulting.

So, I've figured that the best way to get through this circular thinking is to just stop. Potential results are detachment and/or resentment. I'm already questioning if I still love him and have already given up wondering if he loves me. In two years, he will be finished with school and I don't think anything will change. I wonder if I should bother waiting, because I could be wrong.

Huh. "I could be wrong." In a more tolerable marriage, that thought would come up far less often.

In order for someone to understand a joke, a sense of humour is NOT the most important requirement. The types of jokes a person is able to understand (whether they find them funny or not) says a great deal about who they are, their views of the world they occupy, those around them, and of course themselves.

If a person can see the "humour" in a statement, it is a reflection of their ability to identify not the emotional trigger, but it is actually the realization of satire within the words spoken. If a person cannot make distinctions between what is, what is not, and what should be, then humour is lost. A joke is nothing more than a poke at what is real or, it is a play with words. I'm dealing specifically with satire, sarcasm, and dry wit.

In a statement made regarding politics or hypocritical belief systems versus behaviour, a person cannot possibly be able to laugh at a joke unless they are well aware of the oppositions the joke is pointing out in a single statement. If one were to make a comment about the Catholic Church being pure and present it in a comical context, the humour is found in both a person who will laugh and a person who is offended. In laughter, the parallels of truth and pretense are cearly seen in a single statement that is presented with effective tone, body language, and facial expression. In offense, the person may not be laughing but it is clear that he or she is very aware of the fact that there are parallels to be drawn.

The absence of laughter does not necessarily mean the absence of humour.

Humour exists in the joke itself, though not all who hear it will give the expected response.

In both comidian and audience, there must be a silent agreement going on in which all participants on and off the stage agree that what is being said will be taken in almost 100% exactness (on all sides of the argument). There are statements that when otherwise presented, could very well be taken as bland commentary or flagrant insult. With the proper understanding of what is, what is not, and what one believes should be, there is almost the identification of humour.

A sense of humour; however, is not the same as laughter. I for one cannot stand stupid movies that glorify drunken nudity, frivolous acts of vandalism, and poor oafs who know nothing better than sloth and lust. Even so, it is not big mystery as to why these sort of films are consistently being tossed into the cinemas and video stores. My lack of appreciation does not equate to my lack of identification.

What is funny or entertaining must be seen in each particular genre and purpose. I do not like National Lampoon movies, but I do see why they are entertaining. I do not like George Carlin due to his ridiculous levels of profanity, but I do see why he is entertaining. I do not enjoy ketchup, but I do understand why others must have it with their foods. I don't care for rap music, but I do see why others enjoy it.

One's ability to MAKE a joke is far more complicated than for a person to "get" a joke, but in the end only one language or mindset is on the table and that is the ability or inability of a person to identify what is said, how it's said, and what it should be and that third detail, if understood correctly in the silent dialogue between comedian and audience, is the punchline.

In the face of adversity and change, we are presented with the opportunity to practice our free choice. With a new president on the horizon who will no doubt bring a tremendous impact in the future workings on this country, the rest of the world will (hopefully) begin to change their views and stigmas against the US as well.

But, this is not going to be about politics, nor will it be a fifteen minute rant on stagnant concepts and conspiracy theory.

The very event of change itself is a fascinating example of interpreting what is cause and what is effect. What happens in life could always been seen as either natural order or human/outside influence. The melting of the polar caps for example - natural order or result of human neglect? What of population overflow? Natural order or a result of human decisions to ignore the already-crowded landscape? What about getting a cold, an infection, or even cancer? Natural order of nature or self-destruction by methods of ignorance, carelessness, laziness, or some other act of human inclination that lead to one becoming ill?

When we ignore the change that is happening around us, that is selective ignorance; however, when we acknowledge change but refuse to accept responsibility for them, that is something far more dangerous than walking around as innocent and clueless. Blame and scapegoating have been mutated from animalistic self-preservation into modern day manipulation. Rather than saving your own skin for the sake of some essential function of survival, we've learned to lie, cheat, steal, and morph any situation into a fault of someone other than ourselves.

Something so small as laziness and making up excuses not to do the laundry is on par in terms of psychology when paralleled with the mentality of someone who harms other people and blames their malignant behaviour on the lack of attention received as a child. In acknowledging the existence of a default, short-coming, deficiency, or flaw, one also acknowledges the existence of its wrongful nature as well as the need for change or reform.

A clearer example of this would be a child who is mature enough to use the excuse of, "I'm only six" as a means to escape punishment for breaking a window or spilling a jar of jelly. If the child is able to conceive the idea that a typical six-year-old is not mentality capable of being held responsible for such actions, then said child is mature enough to invalidate himself from using that very reasoning as a method of escape.

If we see change on the horizon and acknowledge its presence, what do we accomplish by ignoring it?

To use an age-old and tired reference, Confucius stated that the only thing that stays the same is change and to fight it would be to fight ourselves and our very existence.

So why do we continue to fight? It is because we dislike change and find comfort in predictability is the reason why we have conflict with anything that is new and out of our control.

Materialism welcomes change and evolving concepts because we can control what we accept and what we do not by the choices we make regarding our purchases: cars, clothing, electronics, food.

Real life does not welcome change and evolving concpets because we cannot control what we accep tand what we do not since these changes are thrust upon us by a higher power: government, law enforcement, popular vote.

You can choose what store you shop in and you can choose what you take out of it. You are not forced to take the entire inventory home.

This is not applicable in the larger picture of the existence of our society and its structure. Human nature which has designed our society does not exist peacefully with the society it has created.

Sad.

I felt like posting but found this article instead. Since 5am, I spent several hours while working out contemplating what I would write about and how I would word my thoughts on an issue titled "Malignancy." Instead, I was introduced to this article upon returning home and opening the computer.

Have fun with it. I will be sure to post something of substance at some point somewhere at some time.

5 Douchebag Behaviours Explained by Science
http://www.cracked.com/article_15822_5-douchebag-behaviors-explained-by-science.html

There are men whose very appearance can compel you to turn your head in disgust, muttering the word "douche" in a long whisper. They're flexing in their skin-tight t-shirt, invading women's personal space at the bar and going on and on about their goddamn promotion.

For all the times you've muttered, "What's the deal with that douchebag?" science has actually taken the time to answer what was probably a rhetorical question.

The child who screams "Look at me! Look at me!" is all grown up and he can't wait to tell you about himself. You want to talk about the football game last night? He'll talk about how he quarterbacked his high school football team to the state championships. Wondering about a good place to grab a bite to eat? He'll tell you he can make reservations anywhere because he's the man. Concerned about poverty in Africa? Why the fuck do you care! This dude has banged like twenty models! Seriously, you're talking to a legend, and he'll be the first to remind you of this fact.

The Disorder:

Histrionic Personality Disorder or HDP. The disorder is characterized as an overwhelming desire to be noticed and willingness to engage in any attention-seeking behavior. This was the kid who was the first to jump off the high dive--if there was an audience to watch him.

These drama-queens know all the world's a stage, and they have been cast for lead role of MacD'bag. Those with HDP have a self-esteem that is dependent on the approval of others and they posses no clear concept of self worth. They're way more likely to lash out at criticism or disapproval than they should be. They'll flirt with anyone, any time. They tend to mistake any attention as sexual attraction ("I'm tellin' ya, she totally wants me, bro"). Their opinions are easily influenced by others, and they find it difficult to support them if pressed for details. They travel in packs.

The disease is not socially debilitating, since most sufferers maintain good networking skills, but they manipulate these relationships in a way that brings notice only to themselves. Thusly, sufferers of the disease tend to pass their suffering onto us.

The only thing this man loves more than his own reflection is sleeveless t-shirts. Sure, we all wouldn't mind toning up or putting on some muscle, but this guy's artificially tanned muscles are his full-time job. After hearing the guy go on about it for 20 minutes or so, we don't feel so bad for putting a video game controller in our hands and watching our body turn to dough.

The Disorder:

Muscle Dysmorphia or what is commonly referred to as "Bigorexia". This mental illness is seen as a male inverse of anorexia, except this disease lands you in a sideshow for freaks instead of the fashion runway (Yes, we know not all top models are anorexics. Some just do coke). Researches believe that the roots of both self-perception disorders come in early adolescences. While girls are dreaming of lounging poolside in Barbie's dream house, men want to be tearing down Cobra's infantry as a G.I. Joe.

Seeing the sculpted action figures sets up an unattainable goal for some young men. They carry the notion of always being too "small" and "thin" into their adult years, after they've become rippling man-beasts. Let's all take a minute to thank the parents of these impressionable youths for going Joe instead of Ninja Turtles, or our society may presently be plagued with mutant reptilian half-breeds roaming the sewers. Media has also had its impact, parading images of perfect pecs and washboard abs. Who honestly thinks that stuff is attractive? Seriously.

Alright, even we can admit that the occasional push-up, or marathon 25 turn Mario Party session on Wii can help you feel better, but for these men it's never enough. In 2000, researchers discovered a man who abstained from sex with his wife in order to focus all his energy on working out.

If you are worried you may have bigorexia ask yourself a few simple questions; How many times have you looked at yourself in the mirror since starting this article? Do you think that Carrot Top "looks good but could use some work on his delts"? Does your desire for a ripped body make you act like a total douchebag?

This heavy-drinking ass stumbles around parties, slobbering on strangers and telling people how buzzed he is... after two beers. Later in the night, after he's polished off his second six-pack, he'll tell you he's cool to drive home, just after he finishes pissing on your living room couch. This guy never seems to know where he's at on the sobriety scale, although on the douche scale he's always a perfect 10.

The Disorder:

This guy displays signs of what is known as the Mallenby effect. Basically, this causes a person to overestimate the effects of alcohol during the first few drinks (called the "absorption phase" by people who study drunkenness) and will underestimate them later in the night (during the "elimination phase"). If you want to see this concept in action, buy a lot of nonalcoholic beer for a party full of teenagers. If drinking with teens isn't your thing (and legally it shouldn't be anyone's "thing") then check out most college frat parties where the masses will start screaming "WHOO!!!" within the first 15 minutes that the keg is tapped, long before their system has actually had the chance to absorb any alcohol into the blood stream.

Later, the same people will physically display all signs of being drunk, but will claim to be sharp as a tack, because, as they'll tell you, they drink so much that it, like, would totally take all the booze in this place to get them drunk. Then they'll plow their Mustang into a drainage ditch and take a swing at a cop.

Don't step on his shoes, don't make incidental eye contact and don't talk to his girlfriend. If he doesn't have a girlfriend, don't talk to any girls because they could be his girlfriend, someday. It doesn't take a whole lot to set this type of guy off, and after he's pissed, screaming and swinging you'll wish you'd actually done something worthy of such a tantrum.

He's easy to pick out in a crowd, there'll be one man yelling while everyone else in the crowd exchanges confused glances along with sympathetic shrugging shoulders. He's the screaming one, the one trying to finish an imaginary fight with a person who didn't start it. A douche that can't be ignored.

The Disorder:

This is a classic case of Intermittent Explosive Disorder or IED. This guy is a time bomb, and nobody can see the timer but him--he can go off at any moment. Although his aggression normally isn't life threatening, it's really fucking irritating. Medically diagnosed IED is defined as a behavioral disorder characterized by repeated episodes of aggressive and violent outbursts grossly out of proportion to the situation. Wearing a sleeveless rayon body vest while stinking like Axe body spray is common but unfortunately correlation does not equal causation.

A 2006 study by the National Institute of Mental Health has determined the condition to be more prevalent than previously thought, affecting around 2 out of every 25 adult Americans, most commonly seen in male youths. How the researches went about collecting data is not disclosed, though we hope they ruined many a striped shirt on nickel-beer-night while gathering subjects' reactions.

Cases of road rage, domestic abuse and destruction of property usually involve one or more parties with the disorder. Often those with IED will feel a great deal of regret or remorse if bodily harm or destruction of personal possessions occurs. It's uncertain if the same remorse is felt after chewing out a waitress for forgetting to refill a water glass, though the spit and pubes now hidden in the rest of their meal may balance out the situation.

This disorder can become a severe disruption in the lives of the afflicted but medications can be prescribed to help alleviate anger impulses. We are not licensed to give medical advice here, but if we were we'd suggest taking muscle relaxers, washed down with your favorite liquor, to help calm the nerves. Now go warm up in a hot tub and feel those angry thoughts drift away.

It seems no matter where you go there's a grumpy asshole making things awkward for everybody. He'll bitch about why his coupons aren't scanning at the checkout. He'll complain when someone has an accent while in America. And that goddamn hip-hop is always too loud! He won't hesitate to tell you about how much better things were in the past, before the whole world turned against him.

The Disorder:

This man is suffering from what is known as andropause or "male menopause." It's a frustrated state accompanied by anxiety and anger resulting from a lack of testosterone, the production of which diminishes in midlife. The term "male menopause" can also be used as an early detection method, since most men with IMS will hear this term and respond with a loud grunt while shouting about "New Age psychobabble bullshit."

The onset of this disorder is common at ages 40 to 55 but may happen as early as 35 or as late as 65. Although, a definite age is difficult to pinpoint if the male in question has been a prick their whole life.

The development of IMS is also dependent on environmental factors associated with stress, such as uncertain financial security, strained personal relationships and whatever happens to be wrong with kids these days. The physical symptoms (which can include loss of sex drive, loss of physical strength and increase in body fat) only exasperate the sense of frustration and nervousness and increases behaviors that society classifies as douchebaggery.

There are free tests and screenings available online to check for IMS, but if you already have it, you probably think the internet is a waste of time for freaks and perverts.

 

Turning Water into Wine is all well and good but I'm talking about today and what tangible evidence we have on a day-to-day basis of this "miracle." I see it everyday as we all do. We ARE it and we portray it everyday of our lives, though it's not with the eyes that we see this, but with the mind.

Reverse transubstantiation is what magicians trick you into believing - making objects large and small "disappear" before your very eyes. *poof* Well, what of making nothing into something? I'm not referring to tricks with smoke and mirrors. No. I'm referring to a very young Marxist ideology that still holds true today, though nobody wants to admit it or put it into words since doing so would admit that we live in a Communist regime veiled behind the lies of a democratic table cloth.

Everyday we transform the intangible into a very real sense of existence - our sense of want, need, our desires, our hate, and all other emotions that are difficult to express with words and a single facial flicker. What we want is transformed into a very real and very physical form - work. Our desires are also reflected in our daily struggles which we chose for ourselves - career, marriage, friendships, etc. Our hate and various other feelings both positive and negative are all made into a very tangible, visible, transfigured form in that we act out what our inner being, our driving force needs.

You don't have to be a Marxist to understand this very simple train of thought (and no, I am not a Communist).

Taking this "philosophy" if you will grant me the allowance of calling it such a thing, and taking it in tow (and with a grain of salt) into both Kundalini and Heidegger methodologies.

I'm not for one to believe that "healing by hearing" is legitimate outside of psychological placebo, but in this instance, I may be walking the line.

If our intangible and sometimes ineffable factors as human beings can be made visible and documented, it might be fair to say that our existence is driven by the unseen but is brought to physical form through its influence. The seemingly "unreal" becomes painfully real and by further displaying our wants and desires, our animosities and bigotries, we continue to feed into that which we in the modern age find so difficult to believe exists - a spiritual platform that holds up high our free will.

Does emotion feed into thought or is it the other way around? Does thought or emotion feed into action? Many say we cannot control what we feel, and to a certain extent, I would agree, but our thoughts and emotions (whichever comes first) can be disciplined so far that our patterns of thinking and feeling change. Whether it be natural maturation or forced manipulation, our very fiber that stretches deeper than the physical and psychological realms can be unwound and rewound so that our relation to ourselves transforms.

Be it daily or over a lifetime, the experience of transfiguration happens to, through, and of every one of us. Your alarm goes off when you are still asleep not because you wish it to be so. This happens because of a decision you've made in order for you to meet and achieve a daily ritual for which you will use to fulfill basic human needs (clothing, food, shelter) as well as desires (entertainment, sex, materialism).

Nothing we do is of an entirely free "will," though I will say that it is entirely free "choice."

Public Annoyance #1: PDA - Public Displays of Argumentation
Private Annoyance #1: Muted Annoyance

Of course, we all understand that there are more times than there are not when we should hold our words and control our thoughts. Firstly, this is a sad sort of life I wander through when it is more often than not that I have to bite my tongue and watch what I say since this is a reflection of how jaded and critical I am. Secondly, it's common sense that isn't as common as many would like it to be.

But where is the line drawn?

For the past ten months, I've bitten my tongue clear off in trying my own patience. I suppose I got tired of trying last night. Proving my point clearly and methodically, I gained agreement but am still uncertain whether I "won" or "lost."

What is it that prods at us that with a final poke, pushes us beyond the boundaries of our nerves? Like Chinese water torture, a harmless little drop of water greets your forehead with a playful splash. Over time, that same little playful droplet comes with friends and they are no different from the rest; but, with every harmless drop, there's damage to be made and with that final drip, prick, poke, or prod, the boundaries break and whatever venom is hidden comes flooding out.

It's a curious thing when I place myself in situations where I know my patience will be tested. Not only is the debate interesting of itself, but in monitoring my emotional fluctuations and how my psychology welcomes the little hints of dropping water, I learn a great deal about myself...many times they are items that I would rather do without.

Putting some realizations to practice, last night was the exception to my typical victories. Rather than beating my opponent into the ground with logic, numbers, and Hermaneutical acrobatics, I presented very calmly, my side of the issue and cited very clearly the reasoning behind my conclusions using nothing but physical, tangible facts that could be found in any atlas or calendar.

I would say that if it were on paper I would have won the discussion, but in this instance, I feel as though I've been made the victor at the price of another's emotional submission rather than intellectual acceptance.

Does this make me a tyrant?

When a person's beliefs are violated, regardless if the intent was malicious, ignorant, or comical, an apology is required.

If the offender were to first defend his behaviour rather than apologize, I personally would regard that as a potentially abusive personality which justifies rather than acknowledges inappropriate actions.

Perhaps I'm wrong, but I will not budge from my stance; and though at times I may wish to waver, my emotional inclinations will not give in to my sense of self-respect.

Is it a lesser evil to insult someone directly with words than to disrespect someone silently with passivity?

Most people, as it is with human nature, avoid conflict at all costs. I for one am not opposed to conflict and welcome it if it is required for the sake of maintaining peace in the future. My preference would be to not only have the courage to approach a person with a topic that needs dissection, but also an even higher level of fortitude to acknowledge and take ownership of one's own actions. That alone would almost require me to respect my opponent within context.

At least I would know that he were able to discuss the issue with both eyes open.

Waking at 5:30am to roam about my new surroundings, the morning greeted me with faintly orange skies hiding behind a looming blanket of darkness and fog. Wet and cold, I wandered through the corridors and navigated my way around and around until boredom overcame my will to explore. Returning home was like entering a strange and unfamiliar world...the world of modern devices and unnecessary accommodations.

Who needs a fireplace in Orange County?

Careful not the upset the finish of the questionable wood-like flooring, I removed my shoes which are in great need of replacement and meandered into the kitchen where I would drink my juice diluted with water and then take my vitamins. Perhaps I am attempting to deny time by buying Gummy Bears for vitamins and shunning my pills and potions...or perhaps I'm simply becoming intolerant of unpleasant things which would in fact affirm rather than deny my succumbing to age and grumpiness.

Last night I had read a short fiction about a man named Mr. Ziegler. He happened across a pill which upon taking, enabled him to understand that which was always apparent but never regarded. His view of the world had become enriched and his new found understandings had not only placed importance on what was previously ignored, but also served to lower his own human existence into contemptible, deplorable standings.

Despite his wisdom and great humility, Mr. Ziegler, after discarding his walking stick, his heavy gold pocket watch, and his fashionable shoes, was thrown into an insane asylum never to be heard from again.

Is this what we should expect from the world when we stumble upon a new understanding of life and existence that does not at all match the general public's ideas of what is and what should be? Mr. Ziegler understood the language of nature and in the process of realizing how helpless and false we are, he was judged and condemned.

We've all encountered ourselves in situations that we very well would have preferred not to face, but during those times of self-confrontation and realization, we become greater as people by disposing of all of those things that somehow have become necessary in our lives; useless things that we've become slaves to - ways of living, beliefs in strange diets, how to clothe ourselves in fear of rejection and to avoid judgment.

It's all really stupid in my opinion, but I'm guilty of all these things that I rail against like a lunatic who can't see his own lunacy. I believe that I'm the only sensible person left on this planet.

That must mean I'm insane.

Another sobering series of life's events have come and gone. The sun has been relentless as of late and I've found myself becoming a slave to creature comforts such as air conditioning, refrigerated bottled water, and reduced calorie ice cream with the unignorable and unmistakable flavour of Aspartamine and that confusing appeal of pink food colouring.

Additionally, I've found myself returning to my library more often and reading a great deal. The ticking of the clock has been a comforting and familiar friend these past few days and rarely have I not continued my night's activities long after my better half has put his head to the pillow. Going over several texts in attempts to amuse myself, I've searched for common themes and contradictions between essays, fictions, and autobiographies. I even found myself referencing the book of Romans with an entertaining dialogue by Erasmus. Sentimental authors from my academic years such as Hesse, Campbell, and Joyce were set as neighbors to forgotten names that I dug out of the shelves; names like Ceram and Manganaro. It was an invigorating evening.

Waking with a start at 2 in the morning, laying on the cushions of our bench in the living room with a copy of Erasmus's "Complaint of Peace" as my pillow, I realized that one of my creature comforts was going to give me pneumonia if I didn't either shut it off or take a blanket from the bedroom.

Going to bed that morning, I couldn't sleep. The week had been long and difficult to bear with a good deal of responsibilities that arose and required my attention (responsibilities that I could have done very well without). Life had gotten busy and I found myself alone again, buried in the daily life that seemed so familiar to me. Though it would have been simpler to find greater meaning in what I was doing, I've made it a point to avoid mistaking shadow for substance, and so I did my duties and tried to return to what is still not there - a sense of a solid platform.

Can a person return to something that was never there to begin with? When a person doesn't have a choice, does that "something" become real by force of the mind or hopes of the spirit?

Perhaps now my shadows should take on a more tangible form. By force or by fate, that has yet to be determined.

Been awake since 5am.

Last night while reading an old play from my years as a student, I thought about something that hurt my pride and helped my cause. As Creon listened to pride and operated on hubris, his ignorance towards warnings of the wise and ignoring prudence and better judgment led him to his own damnation and a world of suffering beyond compare.

Through pride and folly do many fall, either directly or indirectly.

In feeling like a lonely dog following its owner around begging for attention only to be ignored once more, pride takes a backseat to the human need for companionship, especially from those who are closest to you. It's a pity that animals cannot speak or else we could learn a great from them, moreso than we already do. Seeing as how many today treat their pets better than their neighbors, it's a wonder how we've not taken to each other with knife and dagger.

Putting aside my own hubris and inclination towards martyrdom and superiority, I've established a clear communication with those who would best suit my needs for human company and in doing so, achieved a greater goal that dominates over past identities of isolated stability and unwarranted, unwanted companionship. Realizing that it was loneliness, not upset, that caused me to turn my sails and catch an opposing wind, things have, for now, begun to shift into equally running currents.

Unlike those who strive against what is granted to them in life, those who are never content because they always want more, I have lived by meager means and underneath the material of the world, my adventures have never carried a boon larger than a genuine word or gesture from another human being. Gold and fur have no place in my life. I've gotten a hold of a hand that will remain until it becomes absent of its youthful skin.

This hand that will stay in mine is treasured more than the buried cities of the oceans.

The greatest challenge in life is not to seek what you desire, but to keep close what you've already found.

The past few months have been a blur. I've gone through many changes and in the wake of the disturbances, I'm still learning to tread the unsteady waters without going under. My lack of experience or even the charity of thought to matters at hand have been vague at best during my years spent up to this point.

I've found myself feeling quite alone and in desperate need of adult company and conversation. My mind is aching to be pushed again and in my achieving a triumphant exit from the academic stage, I'm realizing all too strongly that the triumph is more of a defeat.

It has been far too long since I've found consistent stimulation in order to maintain past and ill-gotten knowledge. Without a steady and expansive platform to perform, and without fellow actors to perform with, the lively dance of thought and argument that once paraded so effortlessly in my mind has been subdued by time and weather. Rain has fallen and the last remains of the parade have been washed out to sea.

Attempting to retain and in efforts to almost revive what was once a vibrant being inside of me, my voracious reading habits have attained a new and almost despicable level boosted not by passion but by desperation.

To feel so lost and far away from someone you once were, a part of you that was so powerful that nothing could contain it, to look in the mirror only a few steps away and seeing someone staring back at you from across an ocean's length... it's all getting to be a bit much for me to handle, and I fear that as I look, I am facing the bath of the setting sun.

Every part of me wishes to take that horizon and move it to East, never to face the West again and always to have tomorrow ahead of me, never acknowledging the end of days behind me. Always within sight but never closer to me as the opposite shore, to always face East between life and death would be something of an incredible, unending flight against all the natural workings of the world.

I don't wish to face West any longer. Is anyone out there facing an eternally rising sun?