Basement Chronicles

Purpose That Drives Us

"Don't waste time searching for the perfect rhyme."

The first time I actually have to look for a song to fit the Chronicle and I immediately find this one. I had to laugh.

The reason I can't quite find one is I usually pick a song that fits my state of mind, and then hope that the lyric I pick (a) hasn't been used before and (b) has something at all to do with what I end up talking about. Considering I forget immediately what lyrics I've used and I never end up writing about what I first intend, I'm surprised things have worked out so well.

My state of mind I believe is a null state between giddy happiness and utter dread. Incubus last night marked one of the greatest live performances I've ever see. Ever. I can think of no band that was comparable. I mean, they were able to do a cover of the Police's Do Do Do, Da Da Da in the middle of one of their songs. How classy is that?

Sitting in physics lab this morning I realized that I was hearing not one droning noise, but two. My TA's English, who's name and nationality I cannot begin to pronounce, makes use of about as few connecting words as understandably possible, so it ends up being just a constant stream of nouns and verbs droning on with the intensity of a sloth on stimulants. When I realized that I could still hear that liquid hum of the speaker's last night, everything got just a little bit quieter, and somehow better. Even when he took me out of my workgroup and set me and another poor soul 20 minutes behind the class, all I said was thank you. Like a Hindu cow.

The utter dread part comes from the fact that now I have to be serious about school, which comes as a surprising conclusion as I decided to skip physics lecture today to come home and take a nap. My god was it worth it. Not so much that I missed turning in a physics assignment, though. Well worth the sacrifice for Incubus if I do say so myself.

And I do.

Last time I wanted to talk about something. Something to do with...with...one second.

Oh yeah, I called it "associative object concept addressing". Basically I have an idea about how people remember things. But...eh, I don't think anyone really cares to read it, so I'm not going to type it.

Instead, I'm going over some more of the ridiculous notes I've been writing late at night in my notebook. Fun blurbs about how language shapes thought, with arrows and circles drawn about them eventually pointing to a large (and obviously written in low-light conditions) "Ender".

Again, something I thought was terribly important, but I can't see typing it up.

This has been my pattern for the last week. I've got stuff I'd like to talk about, but I either cannot find anyone to listen, or I simply can't express it when given the chance. Instead I just kind of sit there with a blank stare and a goatee and end up muttering half-responses, if anything at all, to the point where it just ends up better if I don't say anything at all.

This is how somebody gets quiet.

I'm working to fight it, though. Something must be getting under my skin without me noticing it. I'll figure it out, I just need to sit down and find it.

But what bothers me about that is if I never find anything. No problem to solve, no demon to fight, no purpose to fulfill. Then what?