I nearly gave up yesterday. Granted, 'nearly' is a very subjective assessment, as I wasn't anywhere close to the verge of abandoning my identity and becoming a street musician, but I was still pretty frustrated.
Today shows a radical change in attitude. I just finished a final that ensured the attainment of one of my minors, and the stress seems irrelevant in retrospect. Worrying about where I am and what I'm doing shouldn't be such a massive factor in my life. It seems that most of my concerns come from placing too high an importance on time, the short-term, the long-term, their intricacies; really, it's all a matter of needing to be in control, to regulate everything in regards to what's temporally important, not necessarily what's eternally important. I place far too much importance on what's intellectual, reducing life to equations, causes and effects, rather than allowing emotional needs to be nourished and developed. The thing is, just because I don't allow them to 'grow' doesn't negate the need to have them.
I've planted a picket fence and killed all the flowers.
Still, maybe I can resist the urge to tear up the morning glory that's beginning to grow, so I can have something in common with the neighbors who place more importance on social time than on tending their lawns. Not to say that they allow their properties to become derelict; rather, they've found a balance of sorts between their yard work and their recreation. They've found a balance between their intellectual needs and their emotional requirements.
It's always interesting to find out that, while I'm not necessarily wrong, I have been misinterpreting my own answers to life.
Untitled Sketch, 2009
