And Oh My Love, We Can Live On The Sun, And Wouldn't We Be Attractive, Riding In Our Shiny Motor Cars, With Eyeglasses Full of Stars

--"Plenty of Paper", Eisley

I watched Disturbia over the weekend. I thought it was a good movie and that I really should have seen it when it first opened. Not only was it a good thriller, but it called up some pretty nifty ideas about what it's like to be trapped with your own thoughts. Maybe it's because of the previous post, but that idea suddenly has started resonating with me more.

I spend an awfully large amount of time thinking about things, reflecting about things, and I've been told that that may not be the healthiest hobby to possess. It's been expressed to me in various ways--that I over-think, that I'm too book smart and not street smart, that I take things to heart too often. Maybe I am guilty as charged. Maybe I can pick apart the smallest comment and maybe I tend to dissolve into a myriad of anecdotes at the humblest of phrases. I don't know--I've always been like that. I've always made connections from seemingly disparate portions of my life and ventured off into wild tangents. It's just what I do. It's why people say I have an over-active imagination.

But it's also what keeps me from experiencing life as other people do. Most people are content to let life happen to them and then move onto the next experience. I'm always finding myself three experiences behind. It's like I can't move on until I've gotten the previous portion figured out. I have one eye to the past in the hopes that the past will provide some clue as to the future. I'm like some ancient diviner, consulting the bones for my next decision. And when I say I analyze, I really do mean I analyze. I call in my buddies, each with their separate fields of expertise, to tell me what to make of it all. I read books on the most insignificant details so I can get a better grasp of what exactly happened to me. I re-live portions of my life to see where I went wrong. I do it all. As a close confidante told me just today, I see my life as this huge baseball game. I pour over mounds of data compiled from--what--thirty-one years of living to extropolate what's going to happen to me tomorrow, a week from now, a year from now, &c... Instead of just relying on my instincts, I always try to make myself as prepared as possible for every outcome.

Perhaps that's not the best way to go about it.

Something tells me that, like the character in Disturbia I could drive myself crazy figuring out all the angles before making my play. Rather than go out and see what is happening, I choose to imagine what will happen or what could happen. I think it might be time to cast an eye to the future without looking back. I think it might be time to just see what's out there for myself without so much of the worry, self-doubt, and ineptitude that seems to plague those huge decisions I make. It seems even when I am impulsive (I'm very impulsive about certain areas--trips, for instance), it always comes back to me chastising myself for being impulsive and promising myself to not do that next time. I can never let it be.

I think it's about time I start looking to the future as an open slate or, to keep my friend's analogy, the start of a new season with a brand new team and no idea of who I'll be playing. I've got to start living my life with the hope everything will work themselves out and not preparing myself all the time for when they don't. That's the key, I think, to believe there is a future that has no ties to the past and no limits to its scope.

After all, as Father Bueller once said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers