June 22, 2002

• So I'm sitting in my new office today, with only half my stuff moved into it and I'm looking over a few of the cases I have assigned to me...I look down at my hands, then over at the phone, then at a paperclip on the desk...and this feeling I haven't had since I was a kid washes over me. What IS all this? I mean, sure, that's a desk, that's a straightened out paperclip for ejecting stuck cd's, this is a keyboard...

  
  

  But those are just words.

  
  

  I begin to look around and think, what is all this?

  
  

  Am I looking out...or in?

  
  

  It's kept with me ever since work and I can't seem to shake it; is my steering the car just an illusion? I mean, is a fish swimming in a bowl just fooling itself...he's not going anywhere...not really.

  
  

  No. It doesn't feel like a bowl so much as the effort feels as if I'm steering a kayak downstream. I can avoid the rocks, stay upright, slow or speed up a bit; but I'm headed the direction the river is going, that's that.

  
  

  Consider leaving the river. As someone equipped for navigating the rapids and white water, what chance have I in the jungle with a boat on my shoulder and no machete'? It looks easy when watched from the rim of a whirlpool formed off of a jagged rock with angry foam wanting to devour you whole and the constant roar of water vibrating your soul...but is it?

  
  

  From this vantage point, there are no snakes, cougars, poisonous plants...and a look the other direction is no picnic either. The view from the sheer cliffs must be breathtaking, the climb exhilarating, but one loose rock, one lapse in concentration may mean no second chance...the only progress is up, higher and higher. Fat lot of good a kayak paddle would do me up there.

  
  

  So I look at my hands; is this what they were meant to do? Who AM I anyway? There are times when I'm not sure as my heart pulls me toward the cliffs and my curious mind toward the shore. Am I in the river because it has direction, and that's what I want? Or do I lack direction and wind up in the river because that's what I need?

  
  

  Also; I shave this face every morning, but rarely see it after that. Within is very different than without. Does the crowd of hoods outside the convenience store part because I'm intimidating, or harmless? Am I driven by a work ethic, or fear of disappointment? Trusting, or gullible?

  
  

  I suppose Homer's tagline says it best:

  
  

  "Too much thinking. Make it stop."

  
  

  I'm with ya on that one pahd-na. I feel like a seasonal visitor in my own skin right now...just here until the weather warms up someplace else. Just passing through and noticing things in a different light, an external light, and perhaps a harsh light. This society we live in, these roads we build around a large sphere, winding around hazards and obstacles and following rail lines and property boundaries, the walls we erect to keep things out that also trap things in, the filters we put on A/C units, engines, mouths, minds, and speech. Is it all just a desperate thrashing of consciousness trying to quantify and explain something that never needed explanation in the first place? Or is it a mechanism for defining and channeling what we are and where we are going so that our own heuristics won't drive us mad?

  
  

  Hmmm, perhaps some dreaming will clue me in...or at least pull me back a bit. It's not a bad or unpleasant feeling so much as a troubling one...so hopefully any dreams won't be nightmares. But no promises, right?

  
  

  G'night campers.

  • 12:30 am
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