For one, I've gotten more freedom. This is highly unusual for me, and I've been thriving off of it. Me and my friend's usual routine is to go to the park. We swing, talk, eat, get high, enjoy ourselves. Many secrets have been shared in park past dark, when the shadows bring out the good and the bad. There is so much of my life that I am unhappy with, but I've grown to deal with it. It is not the events of tragedy that impair my judgement and my joy, but the times of great self-debate. If I can avoid the lurking embers of past thoughts and inner-confrontations, then I think, perhaps I will be okay.
I've listened to a lot of music. I've read a lot of books. I've talked to many people, and whether the relationships that have been forged are good or bad, is yet to be seen. I really love these people. I never thought I would. I am reclusive by nature, a soul who prefers musty, dark rooms and piles of ancient literature over parties and parades filled with aimless faces, symbols of all that is wrong with the world.
But then I think, if I do not recognize or acknowledge my fellow man, how am I expected to remedy anything? I would be a subject teaching areas that I have no knowledge in. And to be without knowledge is to be without a wind under my wings, really. I cannot comprehend humanity most of the time, but there are points in my life where I feel a revelation, and I think, "This is the motive behind all of this shit."
Life is a learning experience, and I intend to keep it that way. I do not view school as the master institution, because life only just begins when I have that diploma handed to me. Now, granted, I value highly my grades, scores, and successes that I achieve in school, but they are a mere branch in this giant orchard of learning. It does not begin in school, and it certainly doesn't stop.
So here I am. I am ignoring the overflowing pile of terms, papers, articles, data sheets - and I ignore them to learn from them. To favor, perhaps, a personal goal, rather than a public one. I don't know.
I'll leave this here. I hate for a return post to be so short, such eloquent nonsense, but it's alright. I'll pick it back up again. When the bite of inspiration tingles my neck and my fingers start to itch, I'll return.
Until then.
