silveradept

So, today was counter-productive while being productive. I did do work in both readings and writings. At the same time, I watched a TV version of The Mask of Zorro, (I say, Anthony Hopkins made a better Zorro than Antonio Banderas.) some curling (the Nova Scotia-Manitoba semi-final of the Brier) and the last period and over-time of the university hockey game (We won, 1-0. Remember, this was after the 10-1 thrashing we gave last night). Perhaps it was funny that I was watching Zorro while reading a book subtitled The Way of the Samurai. I'm typing this by the light of my desk lamp, actually, since the light bulb burnt out. A nice flash of blue light and nothing. A perfectly ironic end to the day. Tomorrow there will probably be more paper work, although I should be going out and looking at job prospects. Perhaps I will do that during some part of Monday. The problem is always that I'm looking for a job for the summer - once school starts again, I want the option of not having to continue the job in case my studies turn out to be more work than I can handle. Can't find those sorts of jobs these days around here.

Tomorrow, some more reading, some more writing, some shopping, some talking, some carousing and laughing. Revision is such a bear, especially on a project this large. But in a month, I'll be done with it. And then I can ride out the rest of my semester up to my graduation. Yay me.

Is it bad when the interesting links today consist of the bathroom, double-phallus problems, and a page about how buttsex is biblically endorsed? Or should I simply consider it one of those days where Alice not only found the rabbit hole, but was also shaking off the effects of LSD while she was there?

Well, it was actually rather fun writing the Wonderland entry. I enjoy writing. I have no delusions that my writing will ever be published. For one thing, I tend to be able to take other people's worlds and play with them. Creating my own is a bit more on the difficult side. Plus, I'm sure I write in all the wrong styles to be published. That said, sometimes it's just fun watching the war inside my head and transcribing the proceedings. I like writing fantasy and nonsense far more than I would like to write realistic fictions. Probably is a result of how my brain got wired by reading all that fantasy when I was younger. (Is that why I'm going to get a M.E.M.S. degree... and then a Library and Information Science one after that?)

Matters not. I'll be keeping the books, rather than writing them, most likely. And that's okay. It'll be

loweko who's writing books while keeping an impressive practice as a barrister (or is it a solicitor?). Funny how I can be surrounded by people with artistic talent, either in writing or drawing, and just smile sheepishly and say, "Well, I'm an okay musician with the trombone, and that's probably my strong suit." Not very, erm, inspiring for me if I want to dwell on it.

That's always been one of my problems - a large part of what might be considered "talent" for me is in scholarship, in thinking, philosophizing, conversation - all things that don't readily produce physical results or remnants. So while there are others being star athletes, writers, illustrators, and such, and producing tangible results of their greatness, I may have a certificate or two from my primary schooling days about whatever cerebral abilities I have. In a month or two, I'll have a piece of paper that says I completed the course of study at Michigan and received a degree (and possibly some sort of honors or distinction). Such a thing, though is held by many people - my uniqueness, as it were, will be in that I will be the only one graduating in my class, as best I can tell, with the degree I will obtain. An interesting sidenote, but it's not necessarily a unique identifier of what talent I have (if what I have can be considered talent - after all, there are plenty of bright people in the world - I'm hardly unique in that respect) It's not so much the search for self, but the search for self-expression.

I feel, like the "guy of nothing but grey". Even if it were only to myself that I could say, "Ha! This is my way of expressing myself - a unique take that no-one else has!" it would be enough, most likely. The medium may not be new - if I drew with ink and paper, it would be like many others, but the way I drew would be mine, even if it resembled someone else's style. Follow? It doesn't have to be the best, it simply has to be different enough (in some positive manner) that I can claim it. Perhaps I'm not just not far enough removed to see all of those quirks of my existence that make me a unique being. Or perhaps it really is because I don't have anything to distinguish myself from the rest. The comment about being a blip in the timeline of the universe is true, but even the blips are important parts of creating the bigger structures.

Ah, well. It's only been twenty-one years - perhaps the thing I'm looking for won't manifest for another twenty-one. If that's so, I hope I don't get horribly depressed while everyone else finds theirs before me.