I had a fantastic day today after two absolutely horrible ones. You know what changed? Yesterday I went into the bathroom to get ready for bed–at first just going through the motions. But then I looked up and I saw myself. Really saw myself.  I saw that I was a good person, that I really did know who I was and what I wanted, that I believed in my capabilities, that I loved what I stood for, that I was still the person who was strong and determined, that everything I wanted to be was here and would continue to be as long as I didn’t let myself go.

The feeling stuck with me through the night and I woke up this morning early with little effort.  It let me get past frustrations (my roommate moved out, I sucked on my third GRE practice, and my wheel on my bike got all bent up) and stay focused on getting productive things done.

I have done this–really looking at myself in the mirror–only a few times before. Each time it has helped tremendously. It used to be that I avoided the sight of myself in the mirror, hardly ever glancing into my reflection. That’s just how I was most of my life. It made me forget that I was real, it didn’t give me a good sense of myself and caused me to forget, at times, that I was a player in twisted drama called life.  Now, looking at myself carefully, really sizing me up–it makes me smile and nod in respect. I can do this. I like this person.  I like what I have built and what I am building. Sure I’m still a bit out of shape. It’ll come. Lonely. It’ll pass.  Certain and strong…always will find my balance. This world doesn’t have my sense of youthful enthusiasm yet.

Ting-a-ling! (To throw in a little Vonnegut)

Kayley said something to me the other day: “Josh, you’re always so into yourself. It’s all you talk about. I mean, look at your blog. Its all about you. I mean, I guess that’s what blogs are for, but still…”

Yes, I am self-absorbed. Yes, I love to talk about myself. But get this: I think you should be too.

Listen: people in this world are far too concerned with other people. It causes all sorts of problems. We always talk about the virtue of looking outward, of being concerned with others. This is true, but it is in the wrong order. There are many famous quotes to this effect but not many people seem to take them to heart. In order to do anything in this life in a way that provides any peace of mind at all you have to first look inward and wade through all of your personal confusion and uncertainty. And if you are human, which I assume you are, there is a lot of this inside of you. The process of keeping the insides clear, especially during life changing periods of your life, is incredibly difficult. It takes a lot of time and effort.  A lot of introspection. Especially for me.

I only have a cursory understanding of some of these matters, but Gehrke the other day was telling me about the Stoics (I believe it was them), who suggested something similar to the maxim I want to live by: Change what you can, learn to live with the rest. And they said that the only thing that you can really change, that you can be responsible for, is yourself. Therefore, introspection is not only the most important thing for you to do but also one of the only truely worthwhile endeavors. Understanding yourself and aligning yourself with something you desire–in traits, personal character, and happiness (however you define it)–is everything in this life.

It is only once you have come to any understanding at all of your own beliefs, desires, and motives that you can look outward and apply the same kind of inspection and understanding towards others, but through the understanding that these are people struggling in the same way you have struggled to clarify, understand, and develop yourself.

This, in a large way, was what I loved about Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead. But it is elsewhere as well, without all of the deliberate and calculated confusion Ayn Rand conjures (but not in such an excellent fiction package…).

I don’t think people do this enough.  Hmm. To take a stab at those two-type-o-people dichotomies (the best one I’ve heard is this: There are two types of people in this world, those who replace the toilet paper rolls and those who don’t You know what I’m talking about.)….I have noticed that there are two types of people in relation to me: those who tell me I think too much and those who tell me that one can never think too much. The people who say the first are much more common. But I respect the second far more. I think they are right. The people who say I think too much don’t understand why I think or how.

On another note, people who say that I am too serious–I believe them. But those people who say I think too much and am too self-absorbed…no.

I woke up this morning feeling absolutely low and horrible. Last night was a complete waste. I think I played 6 hours straight of Halo 3, being unsure of how to spend my Friday night and feeling too much like a loser to spend it working. I needed something. Anything–to clear my head, to lift my spirits.  I got this Xbox to provide a bit of fun and something to do with others.   But sometimes it just seems like a waste of time. This morning I wanted to just hide under my covers and ignore the world.  The horrible feeling in my chest, of uncertainty, of frustration, of listlessness–I know these feelings but not well.

Most of my life I have avoided the poignant taste of pointlessness by creating for myself a sense of drama, a sense of my world as noble, of my existence as glorious. It was a mental game more; it was the will of the self to deem this world beautiful. I was good at it. I still am. I just haven’t been doing it.  The things that make me so optimistic about life–I think I may have torn those down with my pride and judgmental view of the world. I have to rebuild them now and re-establish this sense of wonder.

Anyone who cares anything about me, who knows anything about me at all, knows that this sense of wonder is the core of my existence. It is what makes me speak with excitement, it is what drives me through the days, makes my life worthwhile. Without it I am lost, pointless, and weak. Why have I ended up here?   I know the answer to this question.

A lot of it does have to do with Curt being so gone. At our core we both shared this same disposition. Its what brought us together and it is how we renewed each other constantly. Since he has been gone, the changes I have made have caused me to lose grasp of this sense of wonder. It is still there…I know. The changes I’ve made are important. But they don’t necessitate that I lose my dramatic view of the world–of the world as art, I’d like to say. The loss of this sense was merely a side-effect. Soon now, any day, I’m going to regain it, and then I’ll be a determined and motivated and strong as ever. I will, I promise. (continue reading…)