Well well well... It has certainly been a log time since I've written on this blog. It is with mixed feelings that I've switched to this Medium site to host my random thoughts and photography expeditions.
I'm not quite sure of it. My ways of thinking have changed quite a bit since I've written the stuff here, but this blogger site has a homey feel to it. We'll see how this new "medium" goes...
Normally, any entry here would be analytical and thought-provoking (I hope), but I'm in too melancholy a mood for that sort of writing. The only thing that feels satisfying is to fill some sort of emptiness - the emptiness of this page - with meaning. To give intelligence to the void is creation, and creation gives worth to self. But what to fill it with... what intelligence will be the substance? Should I detail all the thoughts and feelings of my heart, of late? Probably not; that would be inappropriate for this somewhat public place. Perhaps the happenings of my first week of school here at BYU Idaho... but I don't feel like writing of events; I never do. Events are cold. The workings of the heart are the true story of any event. I hardly have the skills to make events and the heart of one reality. Then why am I writing? Maybe it's that void thing. Or maybe writing makes me feel like my life is significant. I think we all seek validation in some form from time...
I just finished formatting my fourth blog, and I'm beginning to think there is something wrong with me. Can a person have too many blogs? We all know the saying, perhaps, that a "Jack of all trades is good at none." Well, I hope that doesn't apply to blogs. Could it be said that a "Jack of all blogs is good at none"? Have I created an intellectual prism, through which my mental powers are divided into the individual colors that make up the whole? Either the brilliance of the beam is dispersed through the prism, or the seperation of colors makes for a pleasant medley of distinct tastes that make up something greater and more delicious than could otherwise be achieved through only one blog.
Are words just an approximation of our thoughts? If so, then what is the integral? Where is the Calculus to exact the sum under the curve of consciousness? Can a man really find out man? Or is he left to only comprehend himself completely, while the thoughts of others exist as the solution to an equation, derived and never known as a present thing? Perhaps the world of language is more exact than is supposed here. Perhaps words are only triggers to complex mental processes. After all, language is only the vibration of air particles, or the ink on a page; pixels on a screen as well. Each, in its microscopic state, is nothingness. But when viewed as a whole, it becomes a symphony that will guide the listener or the reader in his thoughts toward an ultimate conclusion.
Comments
Post a Comment