I haven’t made a journal post in over two months. This one might be big, but it depends if I can remember all that I want to say. It may end up being rather meandering. Sorry.
A lot has happened since my last entry, but most of it all I will not include in this. They are events that I will have to entrust to my memory. These past couple of months have turned out to be rather interesting. All in all I would say it has been great. I guess I can write about the general thoughts and feelings that have been prominent in my life these past couple of months.
One line keeps popping in my head, and I have no idea why. That line is from my favorite song: “And in the end it all fades away.” It seems every time I pause to contemplate or describe how I feel deep inside those words pop into my head. I think about a relationship: “it all fades away.” I think about what I want to do with my life: “it all fades away.” I try to describe how I feel: “it all fades away.” I accumulate my stuff: “it all fades away.” I read the news: “it all fades away.” I make my arguments: “it all fades away.” I walk through a mall: “it all fades away.” Of course, it’s not an original thought that everything eventually fades away. And it’s not as if I’m disturbed by this thought. It’s just that I find it strange that it pops up so often and at the strangest moments it seems. For example, there have now been several moments when I wanted to tell somebody something rather important. So, I sit down to write the email, but the only thought that comes up is “it all fades away.” Anyway, that’s one thought that has recurred many times these past couple of months.
I’ve also had a feeling of aloneness. And I’m not really talking about loneliness or lack of companionship (though I’ve had my share of that). I’m talking about being solitary in my beliefs. Recently, there has been many instances when I felt I was the only one who believed a certain thing or thought a certain way. Everybody else was opposed to me. And they were opposed in such a way that I couldn’t just let it slide by like I normally do. Usually, I don’t care very much if somebody has a disagreeing viewpoint. But lately, it seems people have been disagreeing with me in such matters that I cannot help but challenge their views, showing them how they are _wrong_. Yes, dang it, I’m going to be dogmatic about it; they are/were wrong. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, it reached a culmination, and I got worn out. I wrote this little story as a reflection and then stopped caring:
Once upon a time, there was a little ant. One day, the little ant screamed at his fellow ants, all six billion of them, “You’re wrong!” They all just laughed at him and walked away. The End.
Then, also a couple of weeks ago, I received three, nearly four, quick punches in the gut from Life. I won’t say what those were except they all happened within a twelve hour span (and only four waking hours). Needless to say, it would have been nice not to have the added stress right there at the start of finals week, but I can’t have everything go my way. Anyway, it was a rougher week, but I’ve had worse. I wrote this line during the week: “Even the softest clay can turn into the hardest stone.” Yeah, I know that’s a pretty hackneyed idea, but it was the best I could do. Sue me. Sometimes I wish I could become a hard man. Nothing would faze me, hurt me, touch me, or affect me. Well, I can say that, but I know that that type of life would be less than ideal. Maybe if I could just turn into a stone at the appropriate moments. Yes, that would be better. . .
So, for the longest time I’ve been a cat-guy. Yeah, I know it’s not a very masculine attribute, but that’s the way it was. Dogs just didn’t appeal to me, but cats did. However, people change. And, believe it or not, I am a person; ergo I change. What brought about this change was a combination of two factors in a single day. The morning of this fateful day I read an article online making a connection between a society’s love of dogs and its sociological advancement. The article also pointed out that cat-loving societies tended to be more backwards than dog-loving societies. I’d post the link to the article, but I’m afraid it could be read in the wrong spirit. Later that day, I was on the bus heading into town to do some Christmas related activities, at one of the stops a dog got on. I couldn’t identify the owner because there was no body attached to the other end of the leash. But what was really interesting to me was the way the dog behaved. It was a black dog that was probably a mutt. It weaved around people’s legs until it got to the back of the bus (where I sit). Then it laid down and looked at people. It didn’t bark, sniff, bite, or anything else. It just laid there and looked at people with dark brown eyes. And then, suddenly, I was a dog-guy.
I now get Calvin and Hobbes comic strips emailed to me every day by ucomics.com. I just have to mention how much I love Calvin and Hobbes. I’ve read every strip probably close to a dozen times, but they still are a delight to see and read. I still laugh after all these years. No other comic even compares to Watterson’s creation.
I think I’ll close with this poem by Robert Service. Thanks to Dave Baker for pointing it out to me.
When you’re lost in the Wild, and you’re scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow . . .
It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.
“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now that’s a shame.
You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.
“You’ve had a raw deal!” I know–but don’t squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit, it’s so easy to quit.
It’s the keeping-your chin-up that’s hard.
It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten–and die;
It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight–
Why that’s the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and battered and scarred,
Just have one more try–it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.
That’s it for now.
