Not Much
Know what's been on my mind lately? Not much of anything. Some might find this distressing. For me, the quiet is more or less a welcome development.
I've been thinking about nothing as much as possible lately, because most of what I think about is, for the most part, kind of stupid. The sudden cessation of inane thoughts--or, the fodder for most What I See entries--leads me to believe that maybe I'm growing up a little bit. Either that, or I'm getting dumber by the minute, or I'm a bit depressed. Any of these three explanations is as plausible as the next, and are probably all true to some extent.
I think part of the problem is that I've been pretty boring lately. That's not to say that I haven't gone out and tried to get wild; I have. But my nights seem to follow a similar pattern: Go to a bar, drink, go to dinner, drink more, meet up with some people, drink more, go to a different bar, drink more, maybe make out with a random girl, maybe go home alone, definitely be hung over the next day. Nothing very exciting; nothing extraordinary; nothing worth writing about.
I know one thing for sure: I'm in desperate need of a muse, or of some otherwise fantastical life change that might propel me out of my writing funk. Maybe this change will come from an outside source; maybe it will come from within.
I have an interview Friday with a hedge fund, and I really hope it works out--not because I can't wait to resume my career in the world of finance, but because I'd like to do at least seven big-ticket events in the next four months: a trip to L.A. to see my family; a trip to Boston to see my littlest sister; a trip to the Mid-Atlantic to see my college buddies; a trip to Florida for Dahlgren's bachelor party; a trip to Arizona to see at least one game of the inaugural World Baseball Classic and one Cubs Spring Training Game; and to buy at least several dozen Cubs regular season tickets when they go on sale in mid-February. I'd also like money to do things like: not have the girl pay for the date; buy some new clothes, especially new pants; and get a flat-screen t.v. for my apartment. Also, as I rapidly approach my 30th year, it seems like a good time to start saving for my retirement, which I would like to happen in the next 20 or 25 years, give or take a few.
My brother often wonders aloud why I am such an ardent student of World War II, why I chose long ago to make the study of that conflict the focus of my undergraduate studies, and why I continue to read and watch as much material about it as I can--that is, when I'm not considering the mysteries of the game of baseball or 'Nova basketball. I used to go on about how WWII shaped the modern world as we know it, how it marked the fall of Europe and the rise of America as the focus of world events, and how the technological discoveries of that era marked the greatest leaps of science and innovation the world has ever known.
I've always felt that these responses were somewhat canned, more like a response to an essay question than a reflection of how I really feel. I think that the actual reason I'm infatuated with WWII is that I simply cannot comprehend what it must have been like. What was it like to see Chicago's armories full of drilling recruits, and not kids playing basketball? What was it like to walk by Navy Pier and see training planes practicing take-offs and landings, not a small amusement park capped by a giant Ferris wheel and tourists with ice cream cones? What was it like to know that your high school classmates were in faraway places like Guadalcanal and Anzio, not New York and Washington?
The big moments that tend to cause massive life changes tend to be complete surprises. For example, my father endured a brutal, horrific tragedy (the details of which I would rather withhold) that played a big part in turning him into the driven, focused person I know today. By contrast, the big crisis moments of my life were mostly self-imposed, making them somehow less credible. On the other hand, it's only human nature to protect yourself from really bad things happening. No one wakes up and says, "I could really use an 'oh shit' moment just about now." Well, I'm at the point where I would welcome a crisis. I'm not saying that I'm hoping for some global conflict to break out in order to break me out of my semi-comatose current state of life, but I sure could use a major moment of less drastic consequence to propel me from my current state of nothingness. I am more than aware of the fact that what I am doing is not quite living and more akin to existing, and it long ago ceased to be fun.
So, here's to changes. I hope one comes my way very soon, because I am not nearly as boring a person as I have been in recent weeks.
I've been thinking about nothing as much as possible lately, because most of what I think about is, for the most part, kind of stupid. The sudden cessation of inane thoughts--or, the fodder for most What I See entries--leads me to believe that maybe I'm growing up a little bit. Either that, or I'm getting dumber by the minute, or I'm a bit depressed. Any of these three explanations is as plausible as the next, and are probably all true to some extent.
I think part of the problem is that I've been pretty boring lately. That's not to say that I haven't gone out and tried to get wild; I have. But my nights seem to follow a similar pattern: Go to a bar, drink, go to dinner, drink more, meet up with some people, drink more, go to a different bar, drink more, maybe make out with a random girl, maybe go home alone, definitely be hung over the next day. Nothing very exciting; nothing extraordinary; nothing worth writing about.
I know one thing for sure: I'm in desperate need of a muse, or of some otherwise fantastical life change that might propel me out of my writing funk. Maybe this change will come from an outside source; maybe it will come from within.
I have an interview Friday with a hedge fund, and I really hope it works out--not because I can't wait to resume my career in the world of finance, but because I'd like to do at least seven big-ticket events in the next four months: a trip to L.A. to see my family; a trip to Boston to see my littlest sister; a trip to the Mid-Atlantic to see my college buddies; a trip to Florida for Dahlgren's bachelor party; a trip to Arizona to see at least one game of the inaugural World Baseball Classic and one Cubs Spring Training Game; and to buy at least several dozen Cubs regular season tickets when they go on sale in mid-February. I'd also like money to do things like: not have the girl pay for the date; buy some new clothes, especially new pants; and get a flat-screen t.v. for my apartment. Also, as I rapidly approach my 30th year, it seems like a good time to start saving for my retirement, which I would like to happen in the next 20 or 25 years, give or take a few.
My brother often wonders aloud why I am such an ardent student of World War II, why I chose long ago to make the study of that conflict the focus of my undergraduate studies, and why I continue to read and watch as much material about it as I can--that is, when I'm not considering the mysteries of the game of baseball or 'Nova basketball. I used to go on about how WWII shaped the modern world as we know it, how it marked the fall of Europe and the rise of America as the focus of world events, and how the technological discoveries of that era marked the greatest leaps of science and innovation the world has ever known.
I've always felt that these responses were somewhat canned, more like a response to an essay question than a reflection of how I really feel. I think that the actual reason I'm infatuated with WWII is that I simply cannot comprehend what it must have been like. What was it like to see Chicago's armories full of drilling recruits, and not kids playing basketball? What was it like to walk by Navy Pier and see training planes practicing take-offs and landings, not a small amusement park capped by a giant Ferris wheel and tourists with ice cream cones? What was it like to know that your high school classmates were in faraway places like Guadalcanal and Anzio, not New York and Washington?
The big moments that tend to cause massive life changes tend to be complete surprises. For example, my father endured a brutal, horrific tragedy (the details of which I would rather withhold) that played a big part in turning him into the driven, focused person I know today. By contrast, the big crisis moments of my life were mostly self-imposed, making them somehow less credible. On the other hand, it's only human nature to protect yourself from really bad things happening. No one wakes up and says, "I could really use an 'oh shit' moment just about now." Well, I'm at the point where I would welcome a crisis. I'm not saying that I'm hoping for some global conflict to break out in order to break me out of my semi-comatose current state of life, but I sure could use a major moment of less drastic consequence to propel me from my current state of nothingness. I am more than aware of the fact that what I am doing is not quite living and more akin to existing, and it long ago ceased to be fun.
So, here's to changes. I hope one comes my way very soon, because I am not nearly as boring a person as I have been in recent weeks.
posted by Pat at 1:03 AM
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