Football, rubberbands, butterflies, and crosses
It started half-awake, groggily comptemplating if I cared enough to curl my hair. It ended with a $15 purchase of a cd to support a smallband that I just discovered I loved. The climax and conclusion were similar, but you would have never noticed...
not without football, rubberbands, crosses, and butterflies.
It seems the only way I can make sense of my life is to use metaphors. Sometimes I pretend like they are for other people to understand me; really, they are just for me. I look at life like its a fogged glass or a windshield clouded over by recycled water. I stare and I stare but I can't get my eyes to see through it clearly. Then, something occurs to me and I have the heavy-duty carwash soap out and I'm scrubbing down the windshield until my elbows ache. Soon, the car is glass is clean enough for me to see out of. So I get back in the car, behind the steering wheel, and I start driving the car. At last, I can see.
Well, as I have shown even in the above metaphor - I need symbols of real things, I need to talk in some sort of imaginary code in order for my mind to get things through. It isn't that I need to be confusing, or even that I don't want anybody outside the loop to know. It's just that I process life through a lens of artistry. I see life as a novel, and a novel I see as collaborative sets of metaphors, symbols, idealologies, and truths. Therefore, if life is a novel - I must approach life in much the same way.
When I do, I see things that I never could have seen before. I feel things that I never would have felt before. And I know things I never would have known before.
So really, this post is a thank you to all the football games, coaches, rubberband producers, butterflies and their catepillars, and all the crosses of the world for teaching me that there was more to life. And thank you to those who continuously and tirelessly show me that there is different ways to life.
And I suppose that is it for now. If you don't understand why this is short and probably doesn't make much sense, just read my xanga weblog for more details.
-RK
not without football, rubberbands, crosses, and butterflies.
It seems the only way I can make sense of my life is to use metaphors. Sometimes I pretend like they are for other people to understand me; really, they are just for me. I look at life like its a fogged glass or a windshield clouded over by recycled water. I stare and I stare but I can't get my eyes to see through it clearly. Then, something occurs to me and I have the heavy-duty carwash soap out and I'm scrubbing down the windshield until my elbows ache. Soon, the car is glass is clean enough for me to see out of. So I get back in the car, behind the steering wheel, and I start driving the car. At last, I can see.
Well, as I have shown even in the above metaphor - I need symbols of real things, I need to talk in some sort of imaginary code in order for my mind to get things through. It isn't that I need to be confusing, or even that I don't want anybody outside the loop to know. It's just that I process life through a lens of artistry. I see life as a novel, and a novel I see as collaborative sets of metaphors, symbols, idealologies, and truths. Therefore, if life is a novel - I must approach life in much the same way.
When I do, I see things that I never could have seen before. I feel things that I never would have felt before. And I know things I never would have known before.
So really, this post is a thank you to all the football games, coaches, rubberband producers, butterflies and their catepillars, and all the crosses of the world for teaching me that there was more to life. And thank you to those who continuously and tirelessly show me that there is different ways to life.
And I suppose that is it for now. If you don't understand why this is short and probably doesn't make much sense, just read my xanga weblog for more details.
-RK
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