I live at the threshold between the possible and uknown. The line daring to be crossed and tested and often redrawn within the lifestyles of those stable enough to miss it.
And should today I reach my hand out the crooked door and into the dreaming wake of a world I easily recognize as my own throughout the countless numbers of memories and universes so called dimensions swim in our minds and make fools of our eyes.
I've traveled through space a multiple time and found of things to pass that while I am ghostly aware I am scarce.
The timeline is false.
Within everything that can be accomplished with the span of a day you fix your eyes and tighten your blinders to the secret wonderments only found when exploring the adventure. To those stuck in a rut of original modernism may you remember the nostalgiac feeling of stacking blocks. Because there was more than there that you saw but don't remember.
And that while in any given moment your confidence of your ability to control your life and steer your future exists, it is lying. There is no such thing as autonomy. We are the ancestors of generations prior and prior to generation is the world around you.
If you could stop time at any particular moment. The lists of possibilities to any related action for any thought could in itself be infinite before ridiculous by concerning the logical progression of aftermath of each subsequent event. The butterfly effect creating a imaginary shockwave capable of growing and altering any level of detail in your life without you realizing it. There is a reason for everything.
And accepting that I have now written these words down somewhere intangible I am considering through literature that I might be making a difference in the world in which I have no control. I am both creating and distroying. And by my saintly heinous acts I have opened the crooked door or shaky window. I have now frozen time.
25.8.09
20.8.09
My Class
Stepping off the lightrail, I felt like I should be breaking a long line of tape.
It was my first day of college. And there I was, all prepped out, ready for class. I had all the things I thought were neccesary for college: my laptop, several pens, a 500-pound biology book, a cynical and all-knowing attitude, the works. I felt like I was done, that life was a race that you won by entering college.
So much to learn.
I finally shuffled my way to my biology class, and settled into my seat as the professor, short-haired, grayed, and earringed, began class.
"Today," he said, "is your first day of medical school."
I stifled my laughter very quickly once I realized the room was silent.
I wasn't at the end of a long race; I was at the beginning, all over again. I was on a track that loops in circles. You run, run, and run, ad infinitum. Four years ago, I was a freshman. Now i'm lining up at the start again, without even enough time between races to take a breath.
To be honest, I'm getting a little sick of these starting blocks. I'm worn down with all of the hurdles I've jumped, and now they're getting higher. So is this is? I just keep sprinting towards what I think is the finish line, realizing it was simply the beginning of another race?
Race to college. To med school. To a job. To a promotion. To a family. To getting my kids to college. To retirement. To death?
It was the lightrail home that saved me. iPod buds in each ear, I stared forlornly at the map painted on the ceiling, waiting for the pleasant female voice to announce I was home, when the giant metaphor I was riding hit me.
Life isn't the race. It isn't in the hurdles or the turns or even in the finish line. It's in you. Your will, your passion, your goals that keep you going when you're lost past your ability to move. That's life.
The question isn't who finishes first, who you beat, or even where your finish line is.
The question is, what's worth racing for?
Figure that out, line up at the blocks, and wait for the starting pistol. Run fast. Run hard. Run with love.
Bang.
-Kyle McDaniel
It was my first day of college. And there I was, all prepped out, ready for class. I had all the things I thought were neccesary for college: my laptop, several pens, a 500-pound biology book, a cynical and all-knowing attitude, the works. I felt like I was done, that life was a race that you won by entering college.
So much to learn.
I finally shuffled my way to my biology class, and settled into my seat as the professor, short-haired, grayed, and earringed, began class.
"Today," he said, "is your first day of medical school."
I stifled my laughter very quickly once I realized the room was silent.
I wasn't at the end of a long race; I was at the beginning, all over again. I was on a track that loops in circles. You run, run, and run, ad infinitum. Four years ago, I was a freshman. Now i'm lining up at the start again, without even enough time between races to take a breath.
To be honest, I'm getting a little sick of these starting blocks. I'm worn down with all of the hurdles I've jumped, and now they're getting higher. So is this is? I just keep sprinting towards what I think is the finish line, realizing it was simply the beginning of another race?
Race to college. To med school. To a job. To a promotion. To a family. To getting my kids to college. To retirement. To death?
It was the lightrail home that saved me. iPod buds in each ear, I stared forlornly at the map painted on the ceiling, waiting for the pleasant female voice to announce I was home, when the giant metaphor I was riding hit me.
Life isn't the race. It isn't in the hurdles or the turns or even in the finish line. It's in you. Your will, your passion, your goals that keep you going when you're lost past your ability to move. That's life.
The question isn't who finishes first, who you beat, or even where your finish line is.
The question is, what's worth racing for?
Figure that out, line up at the blocks, and wait for the starting pistol. Run fast. Run hard. Run with love.
Bang.
-Kyle McDaniel
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