Strange overtones

For a while, I seemed to have rid myself of this. Late night meandering, a product of an inability to sleep. Its return, though, is at once peculiar and familiar-- like a loved one returning not quite changed but not quite as remembered. Such is the nature of my muse it seems, rising from the day's brainclutter and making just enough racket to make clearing my mind, and so sleeping, impossible. What changed? The college life maybe takes emphasis from introspection. So that when I could be thinking I'm instead too exhausted. Or else the internet provides too many distractions, piling page after page requiring inspection on top of one another-- the maintenance of that "second" life more pressing than writing about the primary one. But that doesn't make any sense. There are plenty of people with internet lives more extensive than mine that blog daily. This is a caper.

I now am forced to accept that I'm more than halfway done with my undergraduate education. Another semester is behind me and I'm that many months closer to being an adult and stuff. Am I better prepared? Is education actually happening? Are the decisions I'm making more mature and well-informed? [How] Am I different now. Let's talk about these things.

This was a strong semester for me academically. My basis for this statement is my belief that I hung more A's on the refrigerator than I have ever earned the right to previously. Also, I find myself remembering when my tests and quizzes are and even occasionally doing homework. I did not do these things in high school and even in the past two years do I remember sitting down to "clear your desks for the test" and thinking "fuck." So there's that. Because of the aforementioned's relationship to memory I will talk about that. I noticed this semester that I have a fairly poor one, save for regarding certain things (typically, that in which I have any interest). This means one of two things. One: my memory is going away. If this is true, bad looks. I should figure out what's making that happen and cut it out (aging included). Two: my memory was always terrible and I am only now self-aware enough to realize it. This would be good because only upon awareness of a problem can one remedy it, I feel. Exactly how I'd go about this remains a mystery.

I had a number of notable accomplishments this semester. Most memorable, perhaps, was learning to solve the Rubik's Cube. This probably seems silly and unimpressive to most, and it's hard to explain precisely why it is neither of those things. The thing about Rubik's Cube is that for the couple minutes or so you're solving it, you're transported to this deep and relaxing concentration-- meditation, I think, on a totally 70's feel-good level because "fuck yeah I can solve this thing! Just gimme a few... done!" And poof. Instant accomplishment. Ramen for your ego.

Music: David Byrne and Brian Eno
Mood: Giggly
Likeliness of Corrolation: High

I wrote a short story for Creative Writing about two guys getting lost in the desert. It's pretty alright and I hope to carry it over into next semester's Creative Writing Capstone as part of a series of short stories that compile a novel's story. Meaning, the stories will be largely independent in tone, voice, and point of view-- but will revolve around the development and maturation of a single group of people. This could come out really good or really bad. There's promise though, and that's enough for me. These are things that keep me from sleep. I'm struck by ideas for characters or ways to intertwine their stories, but in no shape to sit down and write the damn thing. So I think about it for an hour or two while simultaneously trying to find sleep and probably end up forgetting most of it. OR! Or I file it all somewhere deep in my brain to pull up the next time I'm tossing and turning-- forming a sort of unconscious revisionary system. Is it possible that my mind is that wild? It would be damn sweet.

[Too] Similar to this is my approach to music. This past semester also brough with it the composition and early stages of recording my first solo EP. Yeah yeah, everybody makes an EP-- shut up. I am, regardless, really [immaturely] excited about it. I have these songs and ideas for how to make them logical and substantial in the arc of a release. My biggest fear is that the entire endevour is a masturbatory attempt to prove to myself [everyone] that I have musical ability. If this is the case I'll end up with 30 minutes of dribble to put away in a drawer and avoid discussing with everyone I will have overeagerly given a copy. So your guess is as good as mine I suppose.

Writing this, realize I actually did some legitimate stuff with my time the past couple of months. This is a good feeling and I should try to make it habit.

So what of the future, friends? I think I should set some goals for next semester so that I can again experience reflection and wondering if they constitute accomplishment. Let's do this. In no particular order:

1. Finish EP. Like it. Hold listening/dance party. Play gigs. Conquer world.
2. Turn short story into novel thing. Be proud of it. Send it to places. Be the envy of all the children on the playground too unathletic to perform default recess activities.
3. Learn to skateboard.
4. Read mad books. (Tolstoy, London, Joyce[?])
5. Accidently find a new and unexpected hobby. (Devil sticks?)

That is a good list. Oh, shit.

6. Blog more.

Okay.

Man, I can't believe it's almost Christmas. When my parents used to say the season 'snuck up on them' I always thought "what the hell is wrong with you? It's CHRISTMAS. I've been counting down the days since motherfucking July." But now I guess I get it. I love the season though. Synthetic cheer and irritable consumerism. That isn't sarcasm. I am legitimately attracted, like so many people, to the Christmas aethetic. I love the lights and displays. The ridiculous theatre of it all. Call me crazy.

The other thing I love is that it's just about Oscar season, which means it's time for me to drag anyone willing to Red Bank and Manhattan to see artsy indie movies. Last night Eric and I went to see "Milk" and it was magnificent. I've had a man crush on Sean Penn ever since "Into the Wild" and his performance as Harvey Milk only confirmed my belief that he is top-tier. Before break is over I hope to have seen "Slumdog Millionaire," "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," "Frost/Nixon," and "The Wrestler" so that when nominations come around I can arrogantly consider myself a faultless authority. Oh and I'll probably watch "The Dark Knight" a dozen or so times. I am not exaggerating.

As I feel this blog now qualifies as "long" I will stop writing. This felt good to do, and hopefully getting my thoughts down here will make sleep come easier. So good night, all.


Bomb the blogosphere,
Mike