Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Obligatory and Long-Winded Back-In-Kirksville Update

Here it is, approaching the twelfth hour of my return to Kirksville, and things aren't settling like I want and/or need them to. Not to be ungrateful, but I returned home yesterday, changed from the experience of profound loss, with a semblance of hope that perhaps those who had regarded me with suspicion because of my lack of self-disclosure before leaving would perhaps be different after several days of reflection and contemplation about the matter.

Wrong.

In fact, way wrong. Those few relationships that were left here, in shambles and frustration, have, to my dismay, remained the same completely. I (for lack of a modern term) bite my thumb at people and their subjectivism! Nay to their selfish attitudes and paths! What's the point?

I'm suppose I'm losing my patience with people. Don't get me wrong, I've met my fair share of Cool Cats at Truman- but for the most part I've found the majority of Truman students to be a critical, harsh, and unforgiving breed. Perhaps my perception is tainted because I'm a transfer student. That's distinctly possible. Reasoning aside, I have to face facts that I am sick to the point of severe anger of having to "explain myself" to them to avoid being judged. Not only that, but the depth of conversation I find myself being thrown into with most of them is shallow at best, on good days. Recent events have opened my mind to a world of new thought, and the obsequious banter about who had sex with whom and who's doing pot now seems to be a waste of my time.

Perhaps I'm on a pretension kick- I don't know. All I know is that when I try to chime in with a new idea that I find interesting, the theme of the conversation always turns to something gossipy and tacky; pointless chitter-chatter in all respects. I'm sick of it all now. I want more than what I personally perceive as a one-dimensional existence.

In recent news: I'm sure everyone knows by this point that my Grandmother passed away on Wednesday. Goodness knows word spread like wildfire at Truman. I went back home on Sunday for the wake, and the funeral was on Monday. I really don't want to talk much about the past few days specifically (for I've decided that those memories are mine to cherish), suffice to say that the whole experience has helped to better define my philosophy and outlook on life.

Example: A few relatives back home told me that they read my blog. Talking with them about some of my poetry, at least for me, helped to strengthen my goal of communicating what I believe; I told them that I believe frank honesty in written form can help everyone to put things into a clearer perspective. They mostly agreed. And most of them at least seemed interested by what I had to say. Except Aunt Jane. "At the very least your blog keeps me entertained," she chimed. Yippie skippy.

^And she can read that too, I don't care anymore.

I'm at a point now where I understand things better than I used to. Death, however, still frustrates me. But only because I don't understand it as much as I'd like to. I know that earthbound personality and ego might bring about the usual problems that we all face on a day to day basis, but just recently I've learned of the higher self which is the storehouse, synthesizer, and guiding light of our being; a beacon, if you will. It decides, within certain universal laws humans have not yet deciphered, what experiences are needed in order to achieve a level of self-actualization. I want to know its role in death.

My grandmother's death also helped me to put things into perspective. I am an optimist, and I believe that we all live a hedonistic path of evolution that we want to make positive. We don't always succeed, though. Those are the moments when life slides backwards, when all hope can seem lost. Case-and-point the last few weeks of my life. But I recognize that the experiences we need, no matter how difficult, are those that will move us along our path. Sometimes we slip, sometimes we fly, right?

Personally, I think that guilt, fear, repressed anger (and all other vices) are the forces that keep us from soaring. That's why, for me, writing about self-knowledge is so important. It's a personal barometer for the flowing, flexible style of my growth.

It's taken me a while, but I am getting better at recognizing that life is not the meaningless, chaotic thing it may seem when I am confused, angry, or depressed. I'm learning to confront my anger and depression, and what's more- I'm building upon knowledge gleaned from these episodes. Life might be a constant challenge- but I understand it to be a gift, none-the-less. Albert Einstein had it right when he said that "God does not play with dice."

I don't mean to say that life is predetermined- au contraire- I believe it is prong on a latter towards something which my feeble brain is unable to comprehend at this time. All I know as of this point is what I have learned (which really isn't much in the scheme of things.)

A most important reflection:
The experience of my Grandmother's death has taught me that love of another consists not of finding the right person, but in becoming the right person.

How profound. And lovely.

Thanks, Grandma.

Sigh. There's still so much I need to get off my chest.

Ah well, I have more time for that.

In which a shadowy freedom fighter known only as "E" uses intellectual terrorist tactics to fight against her totalitarian society.


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