There is no passion in intellectualism. It is a disease of emotional dwarfism. Most college kids, certainly Humanities majors, succumb.
Yes, I saw Les Miserable. Narcissism and grandiosity are not in my view desirable traits. Yes, of course you have to love Jean Valjean, but the kids who set up the blockades, not so much.
Good tequila may have been involved in this post, which I may disagree with tomorrow, but not likely.
Honestly, I am just sitting here drinking after an odd day–an odd week, for that matter, with several more to come–and contemplating the stereotypical college night of sitting up discussing ideas: free will, God, death, politics.
I have always hated these discussions. I have my own ideas, and by and large nobody ever presents me with anything I have not heard or seen. I state this as clinical fact. I cringe when certain “deep”topics come up.
My best interrogator is me. I know my weak spots. I know where I am ignorant.
But even then, there is a feeling, not an idea, that I am seeking. It is the feeling of drilling somewhere, then watching and feeling something emerge, something new to me, something interesting, something alive.
My new mantra is Adventure. I am feeling increasingly able to frame inconveniences, long days, human stupidity and chance in ways that are interesting and exciting. To my mind, I am very lucky, but I still get my panties in a wad sometimes. I’m trying to reduce that, turn it, with the goal of making every part of every day something that I am engaged in and connected to in natural, organic ways.
Random musings. Do with them what you will.