Dear diary,
I'm resolving this semester to write on my blog at least once a week. I might put a minimum word limit just to make sure I don't cheat. The first post is due Friday, August 26th. (The night of Jared and Jenna's rehearsal dinner.)
Boom!
kent
Friday, August 19, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Ein Schritt
I have been thinking a lot lately about graduation. I have made the hard decision to let that be an ends in itself. The tough thing about this is that I don't hold any of its value as intrinsic. There's nothing about the nature of putting in the endless hours of tedium in order for the University to give me a gilt sheet of paper that says I'm a Bachelor of Arts. What does that even mean?
Without going into the ridiculous blind worshiping of college degrees that is clear in our culture, I want to go into my decision-making process. This is more for my benefit than anyone else's, but here is my reason: It's hard.
I had never struggled until school until college, being blessed with a healthy intellect, a knack for befriending teachers and parents who were immeasurably helpful with schoolwork. But in college I encountered a problem I didn't expect would be my downfall. Life unfolded itself before my eyes, and I saw paths besides the ones that funneled through a college degree. Like an electron seeking the path of least resistance, I found that not only were there ways around the load that was school's tepid busywork, but that, in my unambitious 360° view of what I expected from life, it was literally the only one there.
I shirked for a year, took off school wanting to prove that I could make a life without the cushion a Bachelor's Degree offered. But after a while of trying to swim upstream, I realized I was swimming in a lake. I expected the adults in my life, having grown up in a generation that viewed school as a necessity, to capitulate to my second-rate choice with forgiveness in their eyes assuring me that I had had good intentions. This was not at all my experience. They ensured me that they felt the same way, and were proud that I was standing firm in my beliefs. Not a soul uttered a contrary word. So it was that I again found myself on a plane extending in every direction, the only obstacle in view my degree.
I first wandered back to the University literally because it was the only significant direction. I didn't care about grades. I could play intramural soccer and live the life of a student with all the subsidies and none of the ambition. I lived here for another three semesters, trying to find a major that would spark some sort of desire to create, to find a field I could become an expert in and not resent. There were definitely bright spots, but nothing that really took, and I drove myself to the point where I wanted to drop out again in December, never really having hoped to complete school.
Here, I was given a providential shove I didn't want, and certainly didn't deserve: I passed a class I should and thought I would have failed. It was from then to now that I realized that I had missed the purpose of the one blip on my radar. I thought it was insignificant. I grew surer by the semester that the academic accomplishment I would achieve from overcoming it would offer me no lasting satisfaction or skill. Honestly, to this day, I doubt that it will. What came to me since the New Year is that the challenge was far more than scholastic. Since my graduation in 2006, I have heaped all my apathy and disdain upon the education system and its flaws. Now I see that that pile, the only blemish on my otherwise spotless plane of potential, itself is the very challenge that my perfectionism in decision-making can latch onto. This has more benefits than just the personal accomplishment or even the ability to look past frivolity in tasks I will need to do to provide for myself; I now discover its relevance in an array of relationships in which performing annoying tasks show patience and care, and supply its very building blocks. Surmounting my own loathing to do a task I find needless at best, suddenly offers a meaningful destination and a transferable skill.
In actually living this out, I have compiled a semester of classes that will be very trying on me. After this battery, however, I will have a semester of reprieve before I will have the required amount of hours to graduate. To that end I have both a plan and a wish. Now I can begin to climb the berg, made greater for the emotional weight, greater still for the years I built habits upon laziness and whimsy. I plod on knowing that I'm single-handedly responsible for my own annoyance, but believing in the joy I will find on the other side of the mountain.
Without going into the ridiculous blind worshiping of college degrees that is clear in our culture, I want to go into my decision-making process. This is more for my benefit than anyone else's, but here is my reason: It's hard.
I had never struggled until school until college, being blessed with a healthy intellect, a knack for befriending teachers and parents who were immeasurably helpful with schoolwork. But in college I encountered a problem I didn't expect would be my downfall. Life unfolded itself before my eyes, and I saw paths besides the ones that funneled through a college degree. Like an electron seeking the path of least resistance, I found that not only were there ways around the load that was school's tepid busywork, but that, in my unambitious 360° view of what I expected from life, it was literally the only one there.
I shirked for a year, took off school wanting to prove that I could make a life without the cushion a Bachelor's Degree offered. But after a while of trying to swim upstream, I realized I was swimming in a lake. I expected the adults in my life, having grown up in a generation that viewed school as a necessity, to capitulate to my second-rate choice with forgiveness in their eyes assuring me that I had had good intentions. This was not at all my experience. They ensured me that they felt the same way, and were proud that I was standing firm in my beliefs. Not a soul uttered a contrary word. So it was that I again found myself on a plane extending in every direction, the only obstacle in view my degree.
I first wandered back to the University literally because it was the only significant direction. I didn't care about grades. I could play intramural soccer and live the life of a student with all the subsidies and none of the ambition. I lived here for another three semesters, trying to find a major that would spark some sort of desire to create, to find a field I could become an expert in and not resent. There were definitely bright spots, but nothing that really took, and I drove myself to the point where I wanted to drop out again in December, never really having hoped to complete school.
Here, I was given a providential shove I didn't want, and certainly didn't deserve: I passed a class I should and thought I would have failed. It was from then to now that I realized that I had missed the purpose of the one blip on my radar. I thought it was insignificant. I grew surer by the semester that the academic accomplishment I would achieve from overcoming it would offer me no lasting satisfaction or skill. Honestly, to this day, I doubt that it will. What came to me since the New Year is that the challenge was far more than scholastic. Since my graduation in 2006, I have heaped all my apathy and disdain upon the education system and its flaws. Now I see that that pile, the only blemish on my otherwise spotless plane of potential, itself is the very challenge that my perfectionism in decision-making can latch onto. This has more benefits than just the personal accomplishment or even the ability to look past frivolity in tasks I will need to do to provide for myself; I now discover its relevance in an array of relationships in which performing annoying tasks show patience and care, and supply its very building blocks. Surmounting my own loathing to do a task I find needless at best, suddenly offers a meaningful destination and a transferable skill.
In actually living this out, I have compiled a semester of classes that will be very trying on me. After this battery, however, I will have a semester of reprieve before I will have the required amount of hours to graduate. To that end I have both a plan and a wish. Now I can begin to climb the berg, made greater for the emotional weight, greater still for the years I built habits upon laziness and whimsy. I plod on knowing that I'm single-handedly responsible for my own annoyance, but believing in the joy I will find on the other side of the mountain.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Snow is a catalyst
I was inspired by my friend, Lori Taylor, to write a sentiment that I've long felt, but never expressed in writing. I've noticed an astonishingly parallel plot line as I've grown older. It's faint and seldom visible, but follows me diligently, a Gollum with no aim beyond curiosity about how I will react to it. Many large themes in the Venn diagram of my life have begun to appear within that portion of my experience labeled "Snow".
When I was a kid, I needed no excuse (and used every one I could muster) to play in snow. We had some remarkable snowfalls in my youth, and I love making snow caves and forts and men and having snowball fights. The lack of responsibilities made loving snow impossibly easy in those days. As I grew up and began to be exposed to media expressing more adult viewpoints, I began to notice a bitterness among responsible, productive members of society regarding snow. It seemed to be a great standby in conversation that if nothing better came to mind, relaying the degree to which one detests snow would invariably find some inkling of common ground in the relationship. Again, in stark parallel to this idea other things that I took for granted, things I had no reason to question were suddenly called childish. There was erected a great framework of rules, roles and expectations that became the definition of my breeding, success and, to some extent, value to society. And this is not to understate the purpose of this structure; there is certainly great influence and beauty to be shared striving toward a life full of order and discipline. However, as I began to be instructed and participate in the rituals of our culture, I was profoundly blessed by a lesson that seems to elude many people. In the midst of the whirlwind of adolescence and the discovery of my place in the community, one of my teachers gave me a key that I will never forget. He taught us to "take play seriously". It was somewhat of a revelation to my young adult mind that the truss-work of discipline that I had warmed to and finally accepted wasn't the end-all in life. There is another vital part that consists of what looks like selfish indulgence in comparison to the hard work and productivity that are so necessary to provide for one's self. It struck a chord with me only because there was an undeniable longing for the innocent energy that was so commonplace in my youth. This principal taught me that these two desires weren't mutually exclusive, but each was necessary to the other to realize their relative fruition. Snow, like innocence, is a structure in and of itself. It takes regularly setting aside time to practice the transfer from one mindset to another.
To this day I can use snow as a barometer for my attitude toward life. It should set off a red flag for me if the tedium of scooping snow ruins my unadulterated love of the way it completely transforms the world around me. Beyond that snow is the perfect play material, the still, muffled quiet of a recent snow lit by streetlamps never fails to take my breath away.
I'm sure there will be snow in heaven.
When I was a kid, I needed no excuse (and used every one I could muster) to play in snow. We had some remarkable snowfalls in my youth, and I love making snow caves and forts and men and having snowball fights. The lack of responsibilities made loving snow impossibly easy in those days. As I grew up and began to be exposed to media expressing more adult viewpoints, I began to notice a bitterness among responsible, productive members of society regarding snow. It seemed to be a great standby in conversation that if nothing better came to mind, relaying the degree to which one detests snow would invariably find some inkling of common ground in the relationship. Again, in stark parallel to this idea other things that I took for granted, things I had no reason to question were suddenly called childish. There was erected a great framework of rules, roles and expectations that became the definition of my breeding, success and, to some extent, value to society. And this is not to understate the purpose of this structure; there is certainly great influence and beauty to be shared striving toward a life full of order and discipline. However, as I began to be instructed and participate in the rituals of our culture, I was profoundly blessed by a lesson that seems to elude many people. In the midst of the whirlwind of adolescence and the discovery of my place in the community, one of my teachers gave me a key that I will never forget. He taught us to "take play seriously". It was somewhat of a revelation to my young adult mind that the truss-work of discipline that I had warmed to and finally accepted wasn't the end-all in life. There is another vital part that consists of what looks like selfish indulgence in comparison to the hard work and productivity that are so necessary to provide for one's self. It struck a chord with me only because there was an undeniable longing for the innocent energy that was so commonplace in my youth. This principal taught me that these two desires weren't mutually exclusive, but each was necessary to the other to realize their relative fruition. Snow, like innocence, is a structure in and of itself. It takes regularly setting aside time to practice the transfer from one mindset to another.
To this day I can use snow as a barometer for my attitude toward life. It should set off a red flag for me if the tedium of scooping snow ruins my unadulterated love of the way it completely transforms the world around me. Beyond that snow is the perfect play material, the still, muffled quiet of a recent snow lit by streetlamps never fails to take my breath away.
I'm sure there will be snow in heaven.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Existence
I just got this crazy Dyna-Flex thing from my friend. It's a workout tool of sorts. You're supposed to spin it with a string like a gyroscope, and then rotate your wrists to make the inner wheel spin faster and create a greater resistance to your wrist motions. It's kinda counter-intuitive, especially when it moves slowly at the beginning. I had to endure many awkward attempts to get the swing of things, but now I can get it going almost every time.
A couple guys and I were talking about making a trip to South America a while ago. I said to them, "I know a month down the road we're gonna forget all about this, so I'm going, whether you guys come or not." I love inspiring moments like that, but I don't think I can endure another one unfulfilled. (I'm going back to school this semester, and it's not in South America.) I think I'll use this Dyna-Flex as a reminder of what I know I need to do.
The only reason I write this is because I just watched the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." It made me see, if only until I go to bed, an aspect of life I rarely notice. Life takes many feeble attempts to really get tickin'. I feel like every day begins with an initial spin, and as of this moment, I haven't really been able to apply the knowledge I've learned about actually living it. But then I suppose that's been because my attempts have been shamefully few. In the film, Joel (Jim Carrey) meets the love of his life, Clementine (Kate Winslet), but doesn't allow himself to share his emotions. We get glimpses of some traumatic experiences he endured which hint at a trend of let-downs that might explain why he's such an island when it comes to feelings. I empathize with him quite a bit, but seeing the consequences of his emotional forfeit from an outside perspective makes me realize that any greatness or extraordinariness I wish I had in my life takes as payment the pain, shame and awkwardness I fear more strongly than death. I only now realize that I need to stop making oaths to myself in hopes that some extenuating slip of Murphy's Law will send me skyrocketing into my dreams. I'm not the one on whom their fulfillment lies. Only God knows what will truly rectify my dispair and failures to act. I can but rely on His teachings and trust the perverted advise of His depraved followers will somehow be unveiled as the unique antidote for the nitpicky pangs in my soul.
A couple guys and I were talking about making a trip to South America a while ago. I said to them, "I know a month down the road we're gonna forget all about this, so I'm going, whether you guys come or not." I love inspiring moments like that, but I don't think I can endure another one unfulfilled. (I'm going back to school this semester, and it's not in South America.) I think I'll use this Dyna-Flex as a reminder of what I know I need to do.
The only reason I write this is because I just watched the movie "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." It made me see, if only until I go to bed, an aspect of life I rarely notice. Life takes many feeble attempts to really get tickin'. I feel like every day begins with an initial spin, and as of this moment, I haven't really been able to apply the knowledge I've learned about actually living it. But then I suppose that's been because my attempts have been shamefully few. In the film, Joel (Jim Carrey) meets the love of his life, Clementine (Kate Winslet), but doesn't allow himself to share his emotions. We get glimpses of some traumatic experiences he endured which hint at a trend of let-downs that might explain why he's such an island when it comes to feelings. I empathize with him quite a bit, but seeing the consequences of his emotional forfeit from an outside perspective makes me realize that any greatness or extraordinariness I wish I had in my life takes as payment the pain, shame and awkwardness I fear more strongly than death. I only now realize that I need to stop making oaths to myself in hopes that some extenuating slip of Murphy's Law will send me skyrocketing into my dreams. I'm not the one on whom their fulfillment lies. Only God knows what will truly rectify my dispair and failures to act. I can but rely on His teachings and trust the perverted advise of His depraved followers will somehow be unveiled as the unique antidote for the nitpicky pangs in my soul.
Friday, January 23, 2009
"WE BE WEBLOGGING," SAYS WITNESS
I've slacked. Even though Colby's the only other one who's read this blog, I should be more disciplined with my creative writing. I need an outlet. I will make this blog my new year's resolution, so it has relatively little consequence when I either forget or refuse to do it in my normative state of mind. Here are some tools to help me in my weblogging endeavor:
http://www.dictionary.com/
http://www.thesaurus.com/
http://www.freerice.com/
http://www.something.com/
http://dict.leo.org/
http://www.gizmodo.com/
Love,
Kent
http://www.dictionary.com/
http://www.thesaurus.com/
http://www.freerice.com/
http://www.something.com/
http://dict.leo.org/
http://www.gizmodo.com/
Love,
Kent
Monday, November 26, 2007
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