6-23-12 Posting note: This was after 7 continuous, full-time college (including summer.) I posted this on my website on 11-30-09, but wrote it on the dates listed. I think I selected these entries out of about 30 others. These were the best or most relevant ones.
A composite of early summer 2008
6 18 08When I lay here trying to sleep, I wonder about the things I’ve done and the mistakes I’ve made. I wonder if I were able to do things over again knowing what I know now, would I make changes and what would they be? Do I value the lessons learned over the possible opportunities missed? I don’t know.
Later, looking back, will I see the same things in this time in my life? I’d like to think not, but the sheer lack of feeling like I’m doing much worthwhile makes me think I will barely even remember now as more than what classes I was taking and where I was living. Which is worse? To want to change a lesson learned by huge mistakes, or to not make mistakes and as a result to be forgotten?
This comes up from late night considerations of things as compared to Moorhead. Specifically thinking about intramural soccer. No really “big” mistakes were committed there, but the girl involved was cute and fun to talk to. What could have come from that had I dared to call her? I had her number since we two basically organized everything for soccer. I gained nothing from not calling her, so it’s one thing I’d say I likely would have changed.
I continue to be amazed at how much happened up there in those short 5-6 months. I think about it pretty regularly, especially when considering things that are occurring in my life now. It is a reference against which I compare many things. Is that because it was so formative or so destructive? Was it formative because of what I learned through that destruction? Was it just the right time in my life that anything that had happened would have become significant? I don’t know.
I feel idle. I probably am. Maybe it’s just summer. I want to exercise. I want to get a job. I want more friends. I want to move on in life. I want a girlfriend, though I am displeased at myself in some way that it matters so much that I write it among other more important issues. I want dedication. I want progress. Of course, getting these things will make me want free time and relaxation.
Writing all sorts of “wants” makes the good ol Lutheran in my feel guilty. I know it’s ok though. It’s fine to want more. It’s ok to not have enough (especially since I’m not talking about material things.) Even so, all the things and blessings I have overwhelm me. How could I ever express sufficient thanks for such luxury?
6 19 08
Given that last night [the night of 6/18] was a singular piece of writing and no semblance of a journal, this obviously is as well. What do I intend by writing these entries? Some sort of introspection?
It feels like most of my life has been on hold for 5 years. I’m somehow stuck in 2003. I have no job, no education, and live with my parents. Other than hair I’ve lost, I look and dress mostly the same as I did then.
Even so, I feel like, “new beginnings” aside, I am moving on. I’m writing more, for what that (this) is worth. I am and have been taking (3/4 assing) classes. I have a vague semblance of a difficult long term plan. I’m trying to clean up my relationship with Kent. Leah and I are hanging out more, which is great. Even my handwriting is a bit better. Sounds like progress. Or like it’s closing in on time for a crash and crap shoot.
Where does God fit in? I believe, so now where are faith motivated acts?
How do “truly productive people” find time to sleep?
7 10 08
What is it that we’re looking for in life? What is it that makes us write or create or love or live at all? I’m not looking for any meaning to do these things, or meaning to life, but the how of it. Some people can get up and do things. Others cannot. What is different between them? What is it that some people find makes them able to function and that others lack which restricts them to a bed in the mental health ward of a hospital?Anyone who does anything with passion knows that you don’t do it for the actual product (though having a thing be completed is also nice,) but that it’s just whatever it is the person does is as close as you/we/I/anyone really comes to what is really wanted. I don’t know what this mysterious and elusive thing is, but I know when I see bits of it.