The Webs We Weave - An Old Story Realized Anew

Hm. Well. I don't know where to begin exactly. I haven't written anything in a while [make that blog cliché count number 1 billion]. But I feel the urge to write right now, so I guess I will.

I have a lot of things to talk about. And I could talk about them all at once [that is, after all, how they appear in my consciousness. I mean, I sometimes wish that my mind would just nicely segregate all my thoughts into different compartments, so that maybe I could focus on the task at hand. But it seems more like the mind works through montage and mixture. Which, to be honest, makes for a much more interesting time than any other solution].

So I'm sitting here cross-legged on a towel, typing on a labtop on a futon [not to be confused with a zabuton, nor to be confused with a zafu, which I would really like to get but don't currently have the money for because of a lack of a job [the lack of which I can thank to minimal effort on my part and maximal ignoring on the part of those that I would like to employ me]]. Typing words that will eventually be read [though it won't seem as if it's an eventuality to you, it'll just seem like something that's happening] by you.

So, here are some of the thoughts on my mind right now. I've been listening to a lot of Tool, APC [A Perfect Circle], and NIN [Nine Inch Nails]. In fact, I've discovered the wonder of mix tapes [where mix tapes, in our time, means coming up with different playlists]. I've even come up with one titled "Fight the Man." I'll give you a partial song list just in case you're interested [or interesting, in which case I wonder if you've already left]. Counting Bodies Like Sheep, Judith, and Pet by APC, The Hand that Feeds, Only, and Right Where It Belongs by NIN, and Opiate by Tool. A fun list of songs, if I ever saw one. I highly advise listening to them all together. They'll give you a giant dose of identity crisis and social consciensce shock, all in one listen. A good time had by all.

And listening to them, I have had a slight case of identity shock. Though I can't thank the songs for all of that [I do love music, but I don't put THAT much faith into it!]. A lot of it has to do with being in Chi again. As you may recall from my post about the greatness of being back in Chi here. Not suprisingly, this doesn't come without some drawbacks. Well, I wouldn't call them drawbacks, per se. Just sort of, I don't know, intrigues. Yes, that's a better word. One you don't hear nearly enough these days.

Let me explain. Now, if we weren't social animals [which I only wish about 10 tens every day, the other times I marvel at our sociability], then the social webs that we weave wouldn't really matter too much. One could go about ones day without thinking about anyone else, and more importantly, without thinking about what the other person is thinking. And even more importantly, without wondering about what the other person is thinking while you're not even in the vicinity of the other person. Makes your head hurt, doesn't it? Some scientists claim it's this sort of thing that caused our heads to swell to giant proportions. Don't diss gossip. It lead to the atomic bomb.

Anyway, being back in Chi leads to all those webs recrystallizing right in front of my eyes. And it's kind of scary. Because half of them I thought were severed. The other half I didn't even know existed. And the OTHER half [wait, does 3/2 = 1?] I seem to find missing. And yet they're all here or not here, without me making any effort.

And then I listen to my music about how the self is an illusion, and I realize it's true. And I feel free from the web that I have spun MYSELF, if only for a moment. I feel as if I could start anew. Just firebomb the heck out of all those webs and start over again, more consciously. Because let's be honest, half of those webs weren't woven by me. And the other half...

But the trick is that I don't have all that much control over the webs that other people have. Because even if I firebomb MY webs, the webs of other people are still quite sticky. And there's nothing wrong with that. Everyone has this really beautiful, colorful, multiphonic world going on inside their heads. Every person has their own webs, their own timelines. I can only see mine, I can only control mine, but that doesn't mean the other ones aren't there.

And it's moments like that where I wish I could build a time machine. Or just step out of time. Or maybe grow a pair of cajones and do something about all of this. Where I feel like shedding this skin and remaking a new identity. One that doesn't worry too much about this, and worries a little more about that. One who, well, is me. But better.

Yeah, this may sound all sorts of convaluted and sad. But it actually gives me some sort of game plan for this summer. Because, to quote John Mayer, 'I just found out there's no such thing as the real world. Just a lie you've got to rise above' [more on him in a later post]. I realized that really, life doesn't start later. It starts right now. The curtain isn't going to magically rise. It already has, on the day the mind first started drafting this particular drama.

Amazing stuff. Yet nothing new. Nothing is ever really new. New things only happen once every billion years. Everything else is just a reworking.

Here's to the reworking of this montage!

Namaste.