this one is for the snacks.
The summation of my academic life is reduced to starting blogs, forgetting what I was going to say, and stopping because food, coffee, or even the mail seem more interesting. One minute I’ll be on a good thought and the next I’ll be all like ‘I wonder what is on Netflix?” That will only seem funny when you’ve scrapped the bottom of Netflix and realize that everything you’ve just binged through is terrible entertainment – like sugar free ice cream. This is probably to a lack of discipline on my part – or totally to that, but nobody really cares anyway. My mind is structured and my thoughts are well ordered, so whether this has been communicated properly to my hands seems of little importance. To both me and, most assuredly, you as well.
*thinks about snacks*
I was just going through my Instagram. Instagram is nostalgia avenue for me. When I take see a photo it reminds me of the feelings I had when I choose it and posted it. How did I feel on that sunny day? After that good workout? Actually, it can be a little difficult when I scroll to quickly and get all tangled up in feels. Just take it slow, I suppose. Still, it’s a testament to me of my growth as a person or my place in life or walk with the Lord.
I walked down a country road once a year and snapped a photo. The peace of the country is amazing – the cows stretched through the fields, the crickets beginning to chirp on a summer evening, and the humidity so think I thought nature was trying to water board me. The briars grew high over an old barbed wire fence with honeysuckle flowers in bloom waiting to be picked. I liked to pick them as a child and suck the nectar off the end – if you are unfamiliar, you pulled the stem from the middle of the flower and there will be a drop of dew on the end (I’m saving you from what you may see if you were to google it, you’re welcome). But the country changes and goes away. Last Winter a developer bought the land, wiped out the fence, and built a million “ranch country” houses. The gravel road is paved with lines and everything. Things change. That’s what they do.
There is a photo of the sunset over the white beaches of Florida. I went down after Christmas to stay with my brother. I needed time away from life and it gave moments of healing and independence. I didn’t know how to adult very well at all. I read Harry Potter and stayed up all night so I could go to the ocean for a shot of the rising sun. I’d walk to the beach and I remembered it being bitterly cold. There were jellyfish everywhere. I’d walk the beach and think then go to Panera and eat an everything bagel with Chive and Onion cream cheese. At night I’d sneak down to the pier and take photos of the moon. To frame a time, I went to see Les Miserbles. I’d like it, except for the fact I did not appreciate France so it didn’t mean so much – now I’ve studied the French Revolution, but I know more who was killed where and whos head was thrown off of which hotel balcony – I’d probably make a terrible sight seeing guide.
It makes me happy. It makes me sad. It makes me want to change a lot of things. But I’m kinda happy how things played out because things are beginning to turn out so well and any other path would make everything so…. different.
Life seems simple when I look through photos. They are the snapshots of those memories. Now life is big and complicated. There are concerns and real things to consider. When I was a boy, I loved the woods and wildlife and nature and beauty. Now I think in rigid schedules and creations and plans and mechanics. I have those moments of clarity but even now one day I’ll look back on me now and wish then that I was me now, but then… if that makes sense. I guess I should just think what me then will want me now to do so me then can look back and give me now a thumbs up, and then we can use that as a plot for Terminator or something.
This isn’t entirely profound and I’m sorry if this doesn’t past typical post standards. I’ve written anything in about a year so I’ll just come up with some new standards. I’m out of things to say and… wouldn’t you know, out of peanuts as well.