The Periphery of the Mind

I was rewatching Babylon 5 last night, finishing up the second season, and finally got to the episode "Comes the Inquisitor". I'll spare you the details, except that the question "who are you" plays a significant role.

When I first saw this episode, about two years ago, three questions kept running through my head. "Who am I," "where do I want to be," and "how am I going to get there". Watching Babylon 5 made me realize just how universal these questions really are.

I spent months obsessing over those questions. I was still a bit of a wreck from my divorce, just plodding along with no real point or purpose in life. Did I get up in the morning to go to work so that I could have food and shelter until I died? Did I associate with friends and family so that I'd have distractions from work, food, and shelter, until I died? Did I believe in an afterlife so that this life might seem more significant, or less, and did I even believe in an afterlife at all? Who am I?

Did I want a girlfriend, or would I rather be alone? I can barely live with a cat, would I ever be able to appreciate living with another person? Did I want to continue plodding through the hours until my body lay in the grave, or would I rather just cut to the chase and end it? Or maybe just abandon the life I was living and start a new life elsewhere in the world where I might find a sense of purpose? Where do I want to be?

I knew I wanted to be happy. I wanted to live, and enjoy life. I wanted to experience the beauty and majesty of the world. I enjoyed meeting people, helping people, and then fading away before I became a crutch for them. I figure if I can get out of bed, bathe myself, feed myself, and still have the will and energy to go help do something or listen to someone vent their frustrations, I'm doing pretty good. But I wanted more out of life. How am I going to get there?

I plodded along. Found some answers, changed some things. Some days the old doubts and desires rise up, taking turns between whispering and screaming into my ears. But nihilism and pride don't hold the same charisma they used to for me. I will never cure cancer, but I give my blood to help others. I will never shelter the homeless, but I helped build a house for a poor family. I will never move a mountain, but I moved a boulder, and I may move more before I'm done.

Just as long as I don't put that one boulder back....

Your coded message is:

Money has passed hands with the boys from Amsterdam to get Asscher on board. But it won't matter much if the intern-vizier refuses her spot within the vojvodina. The King says she hates Asscher's fancy armor, but would she really object to the radiance once she saw it?

Went to the Fellowship Church in Lowell Sunday morning with Maryanne, and when people ask the only thing I can say is "it was interesting."

The sermon was excellent, and the band was wonderful. I actually felt something there at times, which I don't feel very often. But it wasn't a very good church. This was more like going to a concert or watching a televangelist than what I want in a Church. I wasn't in a congregation, I was in an audience. And if I go to a Church, I want to go to a Church with my family at some point. And at Fellowship, kids were removed to another part of the building away from the parents. I know Sunday morning can be a very segregated time, and at Fellowship I only saw two non-WASPs, but when I looked across the auditroium and didn't see any children I realized I didn't see any families either.

If that's truly the case, then this isn't the church for me.



Also, I saw gas at $2.26 for the first time this morning. Yipes.

I'm not a Catholic, and I don't agree with everything he did, but still....

I was over at Penny Arcade, readin' the funnies. Sometimes they're so wrapped up in the minutiae of video games that their comic isn't even funny. This however warmed my soul in ways I'd never considered. I'll add one of those ideas to my list of things to do before I die. I'll let some lucky bastard find out which of the three it is.

Besides that though, I want to stand in a convertible, with the top down, swinging a golf club and screaming at traffic. Yeah it's a Simpsons rip-off, but I want to do it! Might have to do it in Minnesota or some such though; one should never feign murderous threats in one's own backyard.

I suspect... as time goes by... this blog will serve as a journal of my descent into some form of schizophrenia. Enh.