I ruled the world

From Todaycollegetour

I decided at about 21 years old that I wanted to know what I thought about the world. I wanted to know what I stood for and what I thought. I decided that I would know these truths by the time I was 25 years old. And I would lead my life by those principles I’d discovered and settled on. And my life would be lead by them as well. I would have assuredness in my choices, I would be on track for heroism, and if I was unlucky enough to die an early death of myrterdom I may just (read: likely would) go down in history as one of the greats (read: the one greatest) of all time.

So I left the church. As it turns out though, I didn’t find myself until I was 37 years old, and with a buzz, again. I don’t mean to imply that it was all about a buzz for 16 years. That really would have been boring. What I mean is that it took a buzz on this particular occasion to know I’d found it. But because of the buzz, partly, I’d run out of time and I’d forget what I'd found, again.

Try as I may have, the truth is that regardless of the detours between my 25 year old target and my 37 year old body, today, I did have a range of philosophies to which I adhered with far less resolve than their tenets generally required. I probably should say that I had a “ranging philosophy.” That would be a more accurate depiction of what’s gone on in my brain, and maybe even more evidently in my behavior. And I don’t mean to demean my brain here. I only mean to attest to the fact that I regularly failed to live to the intensity, and the other implicit requirements of loyal adherence and successful practitioning of the philosophy(s) in question. After all, today, even more so than say 10 years ago, to succeed in anything is to essentially be a disciple and 24/7 goddamn expert. It’s all about niches, it seems, or it’s about nothing at all. So mostly as time goes on it’s about nothing at all.

Oh there it is, give me a minute. Yes I’ve seen this one before. I see that one all the time. Only difference is that I don’t usually notice it because it is not typically reclaiming its territory. Typically it simply occupies the territory of my mind. You see, I was on a roll, moving towards truth a minute ago, and now the voices came back to remind me that I am generally a failure. That I am not special. And that we don’t each have the potential to triumph. The voice reminds me that try as I might, I may do well to make it part of the way there – to success. I may make it a few nights in a row of the way there, which would be more than it expects of me, so not too bad…for me. See how cleverly it phrases things? It really is clever. It must be clever for me to believe its story. I mean it is selling a fairly shit story, after all. But, it is much more clever than I am apparently. I am reminded by it that while I may have some flashes of luck, ultimately I am a sterile, normal person. I am normal and I can’t, (Read: I won’t) have the experience of sharing in the fruits of the unique; so it tells me most of the time. It’s true. With notable and persistent, if unsustaining exception, I am generally told, by myself, that I am boring. Why, you might ask, am I so persistent in my requirement of myself to be a struggling bore? I don’t have that answer for myself yet. But I do have other more important answers tonight.

Tonight, I found something new. The something new has to do with failing. And more importantly with an acceptance of failing to achieve (maybe there is a better word here but I don’t have the patience to unchain it, because, after all, I am a failure. Failures don’t have patience. That is why they fail. And I don’t mean “patience” in terms of not being willing to wait long enough. God knows that I’ve waited long enough. I mean patience in terms of the patience to stay with a problem long enough to solve it. And I’m not only referring to some nascent curiosity that compels perseverance. I’m referring to steady-handed well-managers of anxiety, and of being unfettered by existential bull shit. You know, the personality that that tends to come along with good attachment(s)), and that also enables the poised to remain still, curious and concentrated enough to solve each little riddle that comes their way, almost every time. And, of course, each solved riddle leads to the next little riddle, and the next little riddle, and eventually, to success, I guess. The alternative of course is the jittery experience of the un-calm mind and spirit. I almost wanted to say “the neuroticism,” but I know enough “successful” neurotics with that sticky, curious concentration to avoid making the mistake of forgetting them. I’ll make other mistakes here, no doubt. But tonight, overall, truth is on my side. And unfortunately, actually, the truth is that I am feeling that familiar lazy-wear down come on now. That boredom with the riddle. My fingers are slowing. A burst here and there to fight the inevitable slowing of the mind for the night. The pull, the need for another artificial burst of juice, because today’s supplies are gone. So I’ll begin to fight the good night as I almost always do. Almost always.

And alas I’ll lose to it. Forever I’ll hope for the fabled manic three day high that would carry me from here to there, through detours and pit stops and being tired, to the truth that lay before me earlier this hour, and that I’d planned to reveal, to myself, to the world, tonight. It's not so bad. Even on the nights that I do not arrive there I usually enjoy the trip. A big part of me wants to stay up and write and stay in the space, find my art, and let it flow. You'll understand, I'm sure, because f you’ve been reading you know that tonight it has been flowing. But I know better. Another part of me, the part that is right, (and I judge it as right because it always wins, and by prevailing it demonstrates its superiority even if it prevails by wafting over me like a black cloud, enveloping any spark or flame of belief in my self, any escaped fantasy of uniqueness running too slowly to avoid capture), will prevail again. It slows me first so I notice it and then turns me into a two-fingered-pecking-invalidated-eunuch. I retire, dreaming of bed, dreaming as only a small fraction of the me that I was only 30 minutes ago when I began to expound...when ruled the world. I ruled the world.