Well.

Serendipity seems to be the theme of the moment. It was an internal battle of reason against gut feeling, and gut feeling won. Let's hope my subconscience isn't leading me astray... because a lot is potentially at stake.

I think too much.


Life has been odd. Wonderful, but odd. Everything is suspiciously sublime. I have gone through my whole life thus far with a kind of unshakable certainty of things; I am a realist and a planner; but lately I feel as if I've been walking with my eyes closed, letting intuition guide me. If my intuition is right, I could open new doors, feel new levels of happiness and personal connection; but if it is wrong... I fear to think. I suppose only time will tell. How frustrating, to have the root of your unease lie not with another, but with your own vague, incomprehensible thoughts. And how sad to be so distrustful of good fortune.

I've been bombarded with feelings of nostalgia and poignant emotionalism, coupled with conflicting sensations of insignificance and apathy. Simple things like listening to music while laying in the grass under a tree will affect me so much I'll almost want to cry, but then another part of me wonders why something so commonplace can move me so, and I contemplate how transient and meaningless everything is. People are so unspeakably beautiful sometimes that it actually makes me sad. Weird, that beauty can depress me.

I've also been thinking about how nobody truly knows anything. People always want to think they understand the world and each other. There are these unquestionable truths: 2+2=4, the world is spherical and orbits the sun, the smallest unit of matter is the atom. But what do those things even mean? There is--MUST be--so much more than what we think we know. Other dimensions, other senses... other things that we are not, and will never be, aware of. So then I guess you could ask, what does it matter? Who cares if 2+2 does not equal 4 in some cases? In the history of humankind, 2+2 has always equalled 4, so we can feel pretty safe in assuming that it always will, and for all intensive purposes, that's all we need to worry about. But it still freaks me out how little we understand about our own surroundings. I can look at a tree and describe its physical characteristics; I can tell you how it looks, feels, smells, and tastes, I can describe the process by which it grows from a seed into a tree, and how photosynthesis works, but do I really KNOW that tree? Do I know what it's about? How it feels (or if it feels)? No. How does a bird see the tree? How does even another person see that same tree? I do not know, and never will. Sometimes I wonder if the truth lies in all the perspectives from every living, sensing creature combined. Can you imagine? Everything we know about that tree combined with the experience of a bat that senses the tree through sonar, the nose of a dog, the tongue of a butterfly, etc. Or maybe there is no truth at all. Maybe the tree doesn't even exist. I feel like this subject has been beat to death by every human being who has ever done any thinking about the world they live in, but it's still interesting to contemplate.

And then it all comes back to "What the hell does it matter?" I am on Earth for a limited amount of time. I will never know "truth" as "truth" is (if it exists). Since I do not believe in an afterlife, my job here is to make the most of what I've got, learn what I can, and by the end of it, feel that I've done enough. But it still bothers me that, if that really is all there is to it, why do I feel this yearning to mean something? And let me clarify: I do not mean that in a religious sense. I'm not interested in "fate" and "destiny," but I have to wonder, if I really am so insignificant, why do I feel so strongly that I am not?


Anyway. Sorry for the tangent.
I guess there's a lot to say that ISN'T vague, but I'm not in the mood to write it. Maybe later. I feel odd.