you should be blogging

Livejournal tells me that's its been 122 weeks since I last blogged, and this blog isn't doing much better. 122 weeks. Do you know what could happen in 122 weeks? No? Neither did I, but thanks to math and wikipedia, I can enlighten you (or rather, me if I'm going to be honest here, and let's face it, a blog is there for you to at least pretend you are being honest):

-someone could have had 3.38 babies
-there have been 29.45 full moons
-you've eaten 28.15 spiders
-the average college student has consumed 2647.4 cups of coffee
-the average American has use 1173.08 gallons of gas
-you've blinked 12,297,600 times
-18% of the Arctic ice cap has melted
-flies have gone through 42.7 lifespans
-I've lost 854 days of thoughts, ideas, inane stories, social commentary, complete nonsense, rise and fall and rise again of maturity levels, glimpses of who I was and am, and hopefully somewhat entertaining reading material

I find that somewhat discouraging. Life is comprised of moments, but those moments remain fleeting. Of course, I can look back on the past 122 weeks and recount the big events--deaths, births, moves, jobs, friendships, relationships, travels--and I can even throw in a few little details that personalize those events--sights, smells, sounds of friends' laughter, specific conversations, private thoughts. But the fact remains that I couldn't recall a specific day and tell you what I was thinking. And I do not like the thought of that.

Shakespeare understood the immortal nature of words as he wrote to his dark lady and forever proclaimed his love in words that are resurrected each time someone chooses (or is forced by a course's curriculum) to read his sonnets. Call it self-love, call it egocentricism, call it wanting to be the center of attention, call it whatever you want, but the fact is that I want to remember myself and leave some sort of legacy behind in writing even if it is only me that ever reads it. Granted, part of me wants to think that others just might care, but we won't go as far as to rely on it. So, I'm returning to blogging despite my misgivings when I stopped. In a way, I let it get too personal, to close to those thoughts that were mine alone. You can't let all of you out there, open for interpretation. What would you have left to call your own if everything you thought or felt was filtered though someone else's ideas and thoughts? You would be entirely subjected to translation and you would have no power or say in a piss poor translation. You would be a dead author of your own life.

With all of that being said, let's get on with an actual blog entry.

For the record, this particular blog that I'm not actually writing in at the moment but rather in a word document at Borders since I do not want to pay for an internet connection that I could be getting at home for what I would think would be free until my monthly bill comes started out on two rather serious notes. Note to self: Refrain from beginning so serious. It makes it very difficult to follow up with jokes afterward.

The truth remains though that after 122 weeks, I'm still dealing with the same issues I had back in 2006. I've come to accept the fact that I will deal with these issues for an unforeseeable future if not for the rest of my life. But as wise Gandalf once said, and as people like to quote as though he were a real person/wizard/thing and a prophet of some sort especially since the movies made it all that more accessible and as we evermore reach out for heroes in a hero-less postmodern society, "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that we are given."

So fuck finding my purpose. Fuck finding direction. Fuck everything that requires second guessing. Purpose should be defined not by what we do, but how we experience it. My purpose is to experience. To see everything in multiple lights. To speculate. To seek to understand only to find comfort in the fact that the more I want to understand, the more brilliant and mysterious life becomes.

To be purposeful is to experience. To experience is to find mystery. To find mystery is to find joy. To find joy is to live happiness. To live happiness is to purport a share of it to others. To share with others is to live for something other than yourself. To live for something other than yourself is to bring about a greater good. To bring about a greater good is a purpose.

And that is my purpose. And this is a break in the silence of the past 122 weeks.

PS: Purpose is subject to change based on the amount of coffee or other legal and illegal substances consumed.

PPS: This does not solve a need to monetary means.

PPPS: I do not want to be a teacher.

PPPPS: I need to win the lottery.

PPPPPS: If you feel like you need to connect this blog to my last one to fill in a few gaps, feel free. I don't think I will be updating that one anymore... http://just-frippery.livejournal.com/