Controlling the Ins and Outs

I have recently realized that there is a very critical component of life that is not very clearly defined for me. It probably never became defined because I did not pay it much heed when it was being presented me in it's many various forms. It is something that starts as a young child when your parents tell you to put your toys away or finish eating your dinner. It continues into the school years with the elements of homework, school athletics, or other extra curricular activities which involve some level of effort, some level of energy expense. And for some of us, those like myself which seemed oblivious to the importance of these learning periods, we are forced to learn many of these lessons in the golden era of decision making following the life of supported living as we move out of the nests of our rearing, spreading what little wings we have formed up to that point of progress. Certainly there is something there... The wings do exist in some shape and size... I did not completely crash into the ground below unprepared to meet it. But in some ways my poorly developed wings have not yet the strength to lift me up again until I build some significant strength and endurance. It is a matter of organization combined with focus.

Mere recognition of the facts does not necessarily define it. In this particular case I believe the actual implementation of controlled organization becomes its own definition. I think this is the case partly because it is something that, once realized, is specific to the way I see things, the way I experience organization, which is something unique to each person. We all have different forms of energy, forms of necessary input and output to organize and control.

I take a look at my computer desk for an example:

All around it lays the clutter of papers, cds, dvds, and various little trinkets and tools. Every single item holds some sort of significant meaning to me or I would have just thrown it away long ago. They all have varied importance and, regardless of how mundane or seemingly insignificant any one thing may seem, I still assign some sort of value to each greater than the equivalent of garbage sitting in a garbage can... which would at least be out of my way visually and physically.

If I had already implemented a system of organization to deal with every various item which exists on my cluttered, visually distressing desk area each piece would have been properly sorted, assigned it's necessary value, and placed accordingly wherever they would belong to that system. The dross would simply not have a place among the cream.

I need to create some stable, realistic form of organization for my life. I already have many working components which have brought me to where I already stand... I actually AM organized in many aspects of importance. It is the little things which need to be addressed and implemented. It almost seems painful.(sort of like this whole blog probably has been. Ha)

Well... My energy for this topic is running thin. I do have quite a few ideas still swirling around which I feel are quite relevant but I would rather let them stew a while to see if they can be transformed into the impetus which puts my desire in motion.

Plus... I'd rather be planning my Halloween costume... that seems WAY funner right now.

A Morning in Spanaway

He first noticed the bird, there among a flock of a different kind. Starkly contrasting his adopted brethren, his white-grey coat seemingly betraying the apparent feeling of comfortable inclusion among them. The memories of his truer family long forgotten, he sensed his future with unperturbed optimism. You see, he was one of them. A wandering, nomadic, hunter seeking for his next meal, the next repetitious, often cursory, ritual bent on survival... yet always the hope of something more lingers. He travels with this largely unguided crew of fellows, a light among the darks, sensing his hopes can become something more substantial than survival... Is it truly survival without hopes anyway?

Emotion vs Logic: Round 1

This is an incredibly complicated and very difficult-to-internalize area of thinking. I would attribute some of the challenge to the fact that I attempt to conceptualize this all in a basically logic-based type of thinking... which I guess tends to be a bias on the concept before trying to render it in any other fashion. Also, the medium of writing generally needs to be rendered in a logical fashion when it is utilized in this technical form of introspection anyway. Emotion is generally found floating in the artistic/poetic/real-time/less-controlled forms of writing anyway. Indeed, they both have their place.

So I have thought a lot about this subject lately and for the last couple months in general. Much of it has come as I have experienced unexpected, or simply powerful, emotional states from time to time. Some of these experiences have been born of trials and others have found life in the positive and peaceful times. All of this has been incredibly edifying and delightful to examine as I have found stability in the broader perspective I feel I have gained through it all.

In one of the more pronounced emotional moments of anxiety/distress/pain I was feeling incredibly emotionally influenced. I could feel the feeling pervading every part of my body but it seemed to be extending out from my core, reaching upward through my chest into the central parts of my shoulders and head. I disliked the feeling itself but more than that I disliked the other negative feelings it seemed to generate... or recruit. Little, generally benign, ideas of confusion or self-doubt began morphing into, and indeed becoming a part of, the greater initial emotion. Basic logical counterparts to all this confusion were quickly obscured and entrenched by the rapid change and confusion of the emotional landscape I was experiencing. Somehow the clear understanding of the fact that I still had a logical foothold on the whole thing was still available to access in my decision making processes about how to deal with it all. The unanswered question, however, was determining how I could make use of that still-useful, seemingly available foothold. I wanted to suppress the undesirable emotional melee through logical reasoning and pull myself out of that seemingly oppressive, even confining state of being.

I started out with the idea that if I were to recognize, or create, enough logical bridges surrounding the situation which initially caused this whole episode that the leverage necessary to bend my emotional state back into shape could be had. In a somewhat formulaic manner I saw it somewhat like this(I am by no means a mathematician/programmer by the way): If X(number of logical bridges) > Y(various selfdoubts/confusions multiplied by anxiety/distress/pain) is true then overall control of the being is directed by logical means. It made enough sense to me at the time but lacked an important component of the resolution process. Merely directing the being, while importantly addressed, was not the end product of the formula. What comes of the emotional component in the formula?

This will end round one of my current speculations for now since I have a bit of a social life to attend to at the moment and the distraction certainly detracts from the efficacy and attention necessarily devoted to either one. I plan to continue with round two soon. I hope this hasn't been too boring... It certainly is a very dry topic to tackle. Well... Maybe I am just a bit dry in my tackling of it. Sorry about that.

My photo-clicking finger should be hurting...

But it isn't... I guess I have a pretty buff finger. Or some sort of a long-distance/marathon runner-type of finger. I guess that might make some sort of sense since it does get fairly regular exercise in the pluck-and-strum activities of my guitar practice on a fairly regular basis.

So this weekend was somewhat of a blur, but indeed a delightfully whirl-windish, big smiles and laughs, type of blur. Just the kind of thing one hopes for when visiting old friends. It was powerfully hot weather at times but perfectly comfortable with a well-padded temperate breeze most of the rest of the time. It really takes a fairly obstinate prearrangement to feel as if leaving the place is the desired course to take once the time has come for my return to normal life.

Thank you to all who were participants in my splendid weekend excursion! I look forward to to my next similar such experience... whenever that time comes.

The Power of Grey Matter

It is a curious stuff... a useful kind of stuff.

I sometimes wish I had more of it.

I sometimes wish the stuff I had was just better quality.

A highly coveted stuff the world over.

Often wasted, rarely overused, although sometimes... used to spectacular result.

Even a fun kind of stuff.

An incontrovertible rudder.

An inescapable container.

A delightful mire of dream and experience.

A sincere stream of lucid emotion.

The prime commanding piece of the whole.

I have found it a pleasure to work with, though at times it has been my greatest enemy.

The fierce conviction of it's resolve is enjoyably synergistic, yet can be entirely formidable and seemingly indomitable.

An unimaginable proponent of progress and forward motion, as well a powerful source of challenge and fatigue.

A vast and ever-changing scape of the lingering past is found among it's legions... "I"

among them, born of their pieces and placement.

A clattering amalgamation of friends and rivals seeking voice in the future that is "Me."

Emergence of seemingly distant relics can sometimes gain audience unexpectedly, even

without invitation.

Perseverance, anchored by focused, purposeful direction are often the only tools of

progress.

Inextricably bound with time, it is incapable of suspension or regression.

These are a few of my thoughts on the topic of the mind and memory. Some of it is purely expression conceived in my contemplations and curiosities. Due to the nature of this immensely broad subject which I have been churning over in my mind as of late I thought it might be beneficial to etch out some of my core ideas this way. I've been drawn more toward the ideas of memory and personality lately but will more likely tackle that idea at some future point. Anyway... thus is my rambling tendency fulfilled at the moment.

Beyond all that... life is good! I am looking forward to my brief trip back to California in a couple weekends, a viewing of The Dark Knight on IMAX this coming Monday night, as well as a late dinner tonight. Yum!(I'm not actually sure what it will be yet. Ha)

(running away now)

The Effects of a Name

I have often thought of how a person's name might influence their life. From the basic

assumptions people make about you, to the unpredictable little daily quirks, to the shaping

of one's own self-image... a name, YOUR name, has a more powerful influence on your

life than I think most people consider to be the case.

My name is Aaron. It is a name of Hebrew, or possibly of unknown Egyptian, origin. It has several meanings associated with it: exalted, strong, high mountain, mountain of strength, enlightened, lofty, enlightment in love, GR the moss under the lightning (ha... I have no idea what that means), to sing, and so on. There are many variant forms of the name: Aaran, Aaren, Aarin, Aaro, Aaronas, Aaronn, Aarron, Aaryn, Aeron, Aeryn, Aharon, Ahran, Ahren, Ahron, Airen, Airyn, Aran, Arand, Arek, Aren, Arend, Ari, Arin, Arnie, Aron, Aronne, Arran, Arron, Arun, Auron, Ayren, Ayron, Erin, Haroun, Ron, Ronnie and Ronny. What does any of this mean? How does knowing any of this have an effect on me? Well I do find it interesting either way. I didn't know most of this before today so obviously it has not done much in the way of influencing me in general.

The semi-uncommon use of the name has had an effect on me in some ways. Growing up I happened to go to school with three or four other Aarons in my own grade at any given time so I did not think it was a particularly uncommon name. I was often reminded of how uncommon, or even weird, I might be as a person growing up and I typically saw that to be true of the other Aarons I knew. Somehow it made sense to me in that way. We were a different sort of breed I thought. Like somehow the name had some bearing on that... or did it?

I always thought it was cool that I was the second word in the dictionary after aardvark, that I was always first in line when we had to line up in order of first name in school, that "Air Head" was pretty much the only nickname people generally came up with, and that I shared a name with somebody in the Bible who was kind of important. Whenever I played video games and had to enter my initials for a high score or whatever I liked that I never had to change the first letter from the default letter "A" before doing the rest of my letters. I always thought it was strange that it was also a girl name, even if spelled differently, and that if you spelled my name backwards it was basically a girl name too.

One of the unpredictable daily quirks I have found is that, often being the first person in a friend's contact list on their cell phone, I often get what I have come to term as the "pocket call." I have dubbed it that since it usually seems that what I hear on the other end of the line is the background noise of life and I am now a small technological passenger in that unsuspecting friends pocket, listening to the car radio, having a casual conversation with somebody else, or just walking through a busy thoroughfare... or wherever they are. I get these calls anywhere from once a month to several times in a few minutes. These phone calls usually come from people I have not recently talked to or are not expecting a call from. I have found it to be an entertaining little diversion. And I doubt anybody named Zack will be privy to such similar little events of a basically trivial nature.

Who are you? Have you taken your own name as a part of your identity? Has it changed your perspective of who you would like to be or plan to become? I know my name has done all this to me. Maybe I'm just one of the luckier ones... named Aaron.

Dream Log: 6-5-08

I was driving somewhere, possibly headed south, in a van with a friend... I think it was with the purpose to deliver something to somebody. It had a sort of road-trip kind of feel to it since I had a bit of a distance to go and it was to a place I had little knowledge of.

The landscape was not entirely unfamiliar to me but it was not someplace I had been before. There were hills on either side of the road I was driving, the hills on the east were much more distant. I remember consulting a map with my friend and taking a turn down one of the highways toward the hills which were westward before taking another turn onto a road which continued southbound.

I arrived at a place which I did not believe was my destination but seemed relevant to stop at and go inside. My friend Cris, previously unidentified in the dream, decided to come into the building with me.

It was a church building which seemed vacant upon my entering although the lights were on anyway. I went most of the way through the main hallway to get a drink at the drinking fountain. Cris was following me talking to me as we went but I don't remember the topic of conversation. As I was drinking the water from the fountain I noticed an old friend from Red Robin a little way down the hall in the direction from which I had just come. I asked her if another of my friends from Red Robin, one which I knew she knew well, was there and she told me they were having a gathering/party for him there right then.

I started looking for him in one of the side rooms and saw a lot of people that I did not know. This is where my memory of the dream gets weird... I think my dream went into an entirely different story... sort of.

Upon entering another room I saw an old gruff man. He did not seem friendly or inclined to even talk with me. I started talking to him anyway. He began telling me about his son and how he trained his son from the time his son was a baby to be tough. He told me stories about ridiculous ways his baby son would outsmart him in his equally ridiculous methods of training. He seemed to hold quite a level of disdain for his son and even moreso for the fact that his son, even as a baby, was outsmarting his attempts to basically do away with him.

He even did this really spiderman-like maneuver in the description of something he did in attempt to foil his son. Then told me about the fact that he was a fisherman and how he did well to support his family on that. There was a bit more that happened at this part of the dream but I don't remember it other than I somehow got back to the van I was driving in and it was night time.

I was trying to drive back to my house and was getting very drowsy... in my dream. I caught myself dozing off a couple times. This is where the dream gets weird.

I woke to find myself sitting in the cab of the van, still buckled in, somewhat disoriented and confused about where I was and the fact that it was now mid-morning. My dad opened the passenger door and told me that he was glad he found the van. He and Cris had to come find me and tow it back since I had apparently driven off the road after drifting off to sleep and totalled the van while I was trying to drive home. I had that distinct feeling of helplessness after realizing I had not been able to make it home safely and felt extremely agitated that I had let myself continue driving even though I was so tired I was losing control. I was also agitated because I thought that I had actually woken up in real life and that I had to now deal with the consequences of wrecking the van and such.

I don't usually think I'm dreaming while in my dream but waking up while in my dream made it seem more like I was really awake. I had all the strange physical feelings of drowsiness and cloudy mindedness which I typically feel right after waking up but I was, in fact, still in the dream.

I don't remember much more of the dream but after waking up in real life I was quite

relieved to know that it was just a dream and that I had not wrecked a van which did not

exist anyway. Quite a happy feeling to start the day off with I think.