Current location:	Lost in thought
Current mood:	contemplative
Current music:	The Burden - Dropkick Murphy's

Excerpts
Yes, the previous entry was from Sunday night, however Livejournal's been in a pissy mood lately.

Anyhow, I've decided to start taking a personal hardcopy journal for my own thoughts and experiences so that I stop leaving so much out and depending so much on my memory after several excited conversations. So yeah, now I think this is going to be a gathering of my "excerpts". So I'm starting to consider changing the title to this blog, what do you guys think it should become?

So here come some excerpts:


*5.2.06* -5:20 P.M.-
I've been thinking a lot about what my goal in life really is. Erin says her goal is to be happy. When I ask ehr what that means she says that to her it is to be a wife and a mother. I'm pretty sue I want that kind of life for myself, eventually. For now, it seems to me that being happy is really a smaller piece than that. To wish simply for happiness seems a selfish goal, fulfilling only your personal need.

If you were to ask a child what their goal is, they's tell you they want ot be a n athelte, astronaut, or even teh first woman president. A child's mind reaches for their brightest start, whatever it may be. It usually is ceneter aroudn doing something great. So is the desire for greatness inherently selfish? I would think not, to be great is to affect others, and a child wants to fisx things to the way they see the world, to paint the glittering colors seen to their own eyes only.

As we grow the idea becomes less and less about what we can be, but rather what we can't be. When I was in the seventh grade I had a teacher who once told me that I was a problem, becuase I thought I was smarter than anyone else, that there were many kids smarter than I. Many people face the idea that they are simply not good enough to fufuill themselves, they they should be content with comfort and subistence.

Emerson said, "A man is a god in ruins", a concept in line with Nietzsche's superman. I would proudly contend that children are the building blocks to this ideal. A common, average, unhappy man is simply a great man who has found reason to disbelieve his own greatness, a block of potential worn by erosion of the soul.

I resolve to be that person who believes only the trusth. While even [others tell] me what I can and can't do, what I do and don't want, I will never give up on myself.


*5.3.06* -7:26 A.M.-
...My main thoughts in connection to Hemingway stem mainly wiht my personal impressions into his worth... his position as the great American novelist raises the question: if I do not truly like Hemingway's tale, is it a flaw in myself or a flaw in teh work? Is popular opinion, even aged and entrenched, truly correct? Perhpas I have simply failed to understand the depth of the writing.


-9:30 AM-
How much may a person who one had never met indirectly affect them? Take for example myself: I find that the more I read Emerson, teh more he parallels the spirit that I find myself possessed of. is my personal view unique, gathered from my own thoughts and experiences? IT seems extremely likely that Emerson's ideals sunk inot the American intellectual mind, a sort of group knowledge passed on by everyday contact with those surrounding us, was passed on from him to another etc. until it reached those directly incontact with me.

We underestimate the power of an individual to create a movement, to change thought. The ripples of our actions do spread widely, expanding outward. I have had the experience of coming up with an original idea or saying that I mention to others and have it repeated to me months later by a stranger. Either many of our thoughts and experiences are teh same, such as the dual discovery of Calculus by Newton and a contemporary, or that our society's fabric is much like the acoustics of an oddly shaped opera hall in which a loud enough shout or even a whisper in the right direction may reverberate throughout every scant inch of the room and back to the ear of the speaker.


Anyways, more than enough typing for one night