Mind over the Mundane

I've noticed a paradox in the way I operate these days. I complain to my friends about how I need to sleep more, how I'm constantly tired, and anything else of the sort. Yet here I sit, twenty minutes to two, writing my marginally interesting thoughts.

I'm clearly not the only one awake, as the gentle rhythm of Sublime's Doin' Time playing in my room is mixing with the members of my dorm screaming and running down the halls. Now, I'm not particularly opposed to this sort of merriment, as on occasion I make it a practice to scream and run down halls. The only difference between them and I is that I limit my escapades to before 11pm. I've been blessed with the incredible fortune to be able to fall asleep and stay asleep with immense amounts of noise playing around me, but this certainly has to be rare. I'm astounded that not one of the other members of the dorm accosts these people for being inordinately loud. Before this becomes a rant, I'm going to end this. I did not start this blog to complain about my life, merely to reflect.

It's funny that I would say that now, because right now I don't have a great deal to reflect on. Yes, college is rushing by as everyone said it would. Yes, so far they're the best years of my life. My life hasn't been particularly noteworthy, so topping it is no extraordinary achievement. What is fodder for wonder is how quickly this so-called best experience of my life becomes mundane. I greatly enjoy living on my own, free from curfews and hourly calls from my mother asking where I am, (though she still tries to ask) but it is astounding how quickly this experience becomes routine. Is every new life experience destined to become monotonous for me? That's rather chilling to try and assess, as this is a hallmark of depression. However, in noticing that I exemplify an aspect of pre-depression, do I effectively annihilate any chance of having it, at least currently?

Enough with the rhetorical questions. I have enough of those to deal with in my rhetoric class. How about a well-rounded answer?

The mundane arises from the halting of variation in daily life. Clearly, I have not attempted to vary my college experience enough, if I am assuming it to be monotonous. In analyzing this, I have discovered a trait about myself. To a certain degree I welcome regularity. I am complacent with some degree of a schedule. Perhaps to combat my issue I should let some aspects of my experience remain as they are, while continuing to experiment with different ideas.

It is here that I will elude to a sexual relationship, perhaps that is what is best to explain it. (On a completely related but unintended note, Caress Me Down just started playing, so this must be the correct analogy). Everyone is awkward the first time, as it is an experience for which there can be no preparation. With time, you begin to develop a rhythm (pun entirely intended) and begin to draw on sexual aspects that are familiar. It is here that the pivotal division point occurs between monotony and continued interest. Should one continue with the tested methods, a sexual relationship can become boring and predictable, which no self-respecting sexually active person wishes to occur. Tried methods can be incorporated, but experimentation will effectively spice up any sexual exploit, even if it doesn't work. Knowing what doesn't work is essential to deciphering what does work.

Moral of the story, keep some familiar methods, but don't abstain from straying away from the norm. Especially in bed. Or on the floor, on a table, against the wall, whichever you please.

I greatly enjoy confronting my own doubts with self-generated circuitous rhetoric.

That's all I've got for tonight, I hope the three readers I likely have at this point enjoyed my writing, thanks for staying with me. I'm exhausted, goodnight all!

Decisions, decisions.

What is the purpose of sharing this blog with the world? Perhaps the world is a bit on the ambitious side, I highly doubt more than ten people have even so much as scanned one or two entries on this. This brings me back to my initial question: for what purpose do I labor over my own keyboard, typing whatever thoughts I have, whether they simmered in my mind or simply arise the very moment I am typing? Is the reason because I wish for the world to know some of my thoughts, perhaps even my thought processes, so people may gain a higher profundity of understanding of what makes me, well, me?

(Insert vehement claim of non-understanding, dripping with the cold black liquid of teenage angst here.)

No, after roughly thirty seconds of thought it becomes at least somewhat clear why I even attempt to communicate my thoughts with the world. It is simply because I have something to say. It very well may not be of the utmost importance, but then again, how can anyone know whether any particular action one makes is insignificant? Certainly if one is a romanticist, as I have tenuously deemed myself to be, any action as simple as choosing whether to open or close a door, or whether to eat the lobster bisque or the vegan fennel soup, can impact your life, as well as the lives of the people around you. (I believe that I have mentioned this before, regarding whether or not I wished to wear my Latin shirt. I regretfully admit that I have lost my Latin shirt. Felipe, there is no need to worry about wearing it, for mine does not exist. Perhaps you stole it?)

What has been plaguing my mind these past few weeks, comes to the topic of decisions. I've made a few rather large ones in the past few months, deciding upon pursuing an English major, deciding to grow my hair out, deciding to enter into another relationship. After a pre-sleep analysis of these decisions, I came to a somewhat powerful ultimatum. Every single aspect of life is based on a decision one makes. Just sit for a moment and think of everything that has ever occurred to you in life. Are not the consequences, where you stand currently, a direct result of deciding to do one thing over another? I sit here in my college dorm room, content, for a variety of reasons. I was successful in becoming enrolled in college and taking the necessary steps for financial aid to pay it all off, thus I sit in my dorm room, on Busch campus, which I decided to live on. I am content for an even larger multitude of reasons, the fact that I turned the heat up, decided to wear my favorite flannel shirt, did all my homework yesterday, and spent most of the day with my girlfriend. I could just as easily be sitting distraught at home if I had decided upon a drastically alternate course of action in my life. It's rather scary when you think of just how many aspects of your life can go awry based on a single decision.

That's about all the rambling I've got for tonight. I'm off to enjoy one of the two redeeming factors of Tillett dining hall, (widely considered to be the worst dining hall on campus), calzone night at takeout. To anyone who cared or was bored enough to read, your literacy is always appreciated!