Feb. 12th, 2004

jakebe: (Default)
I WILL be going to PMP 2004 this March! :D As it turns out, everything mostly worked out and now all I have to do is save up a small bit of spending money to head down with. Thank you, Flying Fox! You are truly a good ol' friend. :D Hee, I'm so giddy!

I've been thinking a lot about my mental development as of late. While this sounds like a sentence that usually opens up a big rant of self-pity, I hope it won't be taken that way. :) It's just one of those things, I remember being...interested in a lot more. Now there's all this stuff I *want* to do (learn Linux, pick up Russian again, gobble up anything on mythology I can find, write my own comics, act, know what I'm talking about) but never get up the stones to do any of it. I don't think I'm unintelligent or slow or anything, just...raw and unformed. From what I understand, that feeling never really goes away; the more you learn, the more questions you have. The trouble here is I've never really answered questions I've been asking for the past three or four years. :)

It all comes down to a matter of what you fill your head with. These days I'm reading a lot of Zen books, which are totally cool. But what about Campbell and Jung, or that Linux manual I've got sitting at my computer desk, staring forlornly at me. What about the many many Bradbury books that I've bought and never read, or Peter Beagle books, or the *nine* Russian books that have been gathering dust on my shelf for years? What about the fact that I like writing poetry but haven't read more than a book or two in the...eight years I've been writing it? What about philosophy, or ornithology, or Kerouac, or Ender's Game? Why am I not doing this?

I can get passionate about *talking*, but doing is another matter. I feel...rutty. Not in a depressive, spinning-my-wheels sense, but in a 'my head is full of cotton' sense. The world is so *big*, so amazing, it's absolutely nothing to pick something up and run with it for a while.

And don't get me wrong, I've made progress; I'm at least mildly familiar with a few philosophers now, I have read enough cummings to know I like him and I pick up a new Zen folktale/fable at least once a week. Hmmm, I guess this is another one of those "I'm moving too slow" type things. Maybe I can notice everyone else's progress except my own. No matter what, I do kind of feel that I'm not really fulfilling my New Year's Resolution, though I *am* building up to it. The tea story [livejournal.com profile] cargoweasel posted in his Journal a bit back really kind of hit home; that kind of singular focus, mindful attention, being completely devotes towards an activity is what I aim for. When I'm sexual, I'm going to be sexual. When I'm friendly, I'm going to be friendly. When I'm writing, I'm just going to be writing. It's a point that's deceptively easy to think about, but so difficult to get to. You never know how much stuff you've got weighing you down.

I feel very good about the process of streamlining yourself. I'm fairly confident that I'm firmly rooted on the path, but maybe that's my problem. Attach to a path, and all the notions of speed of travel, direction and stationary nature come into play. These are all ultimately distractions.

There is, as always, more that I want to say, but I should probably head off and do something a bit more productive. :)

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