I don't even know why I ramble incoherently on here. It's nonsense. But it's what's going through my head. And these thoughts will disappear if I don't get them down.
But I guess that's the hang-up I have. Who cares if they disappear? Nothing lasts forever. Certainly not thoughts. Or moments of passion, frustration, melancholy, or peace. Yet I try to hold on to them, preserve them. Why?
Even my first blogs on here since I started again this year concerned the concept of remembering everything. I feel a sort of sympathy for things that have been forgotten. Nostalgic memories are always accompanied by a morose feeling of loss.
I was a little bit of a pack-rat when I was younger. I remember feeling sorry for the things I had to throw away. I missed them. Somehow I overcame the anxiety of saying goodbye to things, but obviously I have not learned to do the same with memories.
In my life, I wonder if this feeling is in any way connected to my [former?] lust for fame and recognition. It's as if I myself fear becoming lost and forgotten in time. (I just realized that my memory theory of the afterlife is probably strongly influenced by this!) There's something else, though, too.
I was listening to Harvey Danger and If At First while painting the baby's room today. And I couldn't help being overcome with a feeling of injustice. The lyrics, the music, and most importantly, the strong emotions their songs conjured up; these artists deserve to be more well respected by the world. They are giving the world a great gift, and yet are drowned out by Nickelback and Hannah Montana.
Hmm... that also refers back to those first blogs. The idea of the important information of our time becoming buried under all the worthless garbage. How very interesting. I guess I'm starting to see a little bit of return on my investment in writing these blogs, because I might not have made that connection had this just all been passing thoughts.
Well, anyways, the feeling of injustice applies to me as well. It's well beyond the boundaries of humility to say this, but I believe that I too have a great gift for music that needs to be shared with the world. And that I am not giving my one and only life the full benefit of my efforts if I don't get that music out there.
It's also like how lately I've been questioning my own desire to understand all that is understandable. Since we all distort reality in our perceptions, I will never be able to truly understand another human being. So what good will come of it? I don't know. I realized that for some reason, the unconscious goal of this undertaking was supposed to help bring enlightenment to the world. So, just like with my music, I think that I am somehow destined to alter the course of mankind.
Yeah, but I'm still humble.
No, that's the thing, is when I realize what it is that I'm secretly pining for, I step back and say "What? You know you'll never accomplish that!" Nevertheless, the feeling cannot be denied. Nor, I suppose, can it ever be satiated. Because I all ready have altered the course of mankind. I've added my voice to the eternal chorus, I've woven my thread into the great tapestry. I've helped to create life, and I've helped to share joy. So, crazy inner voice, what more do you want from me?!
Shoot, even if I'm famous, the extent of that fame couldn't be accurately measured until after I'm dead. A lot of good it will do me then.
So, great. I've just figured myself out. Go me. Now what?
