Good Morning, Dear Reader!
Do you ever, just before you wake up in the morning, have the sensation of wondering, before you open your eyes, at what point of your life you'll wake up in? This is not an infrequent experience for me, particularly on a Saturday when I don't have some mad scramble of Shower!Brush Hair! Apply Deodorant! Eat English Muffin! Crap, Feed the Cat! Shoes, Work Clothes, Where are My Keys and Bus Pass, Out the Door to Work going on. On a Saturday, when I don't have any particular need to be in any particular place, I often have the general sensation that it is possible that I could just wake up- anywhere, at any point of my life. This is geographical (my tiny tiny little yellow house in a college town in Ohio? the south facing room in the farmhouse I grew up in in WNY? the orange and turquoise room I helped paint and shared with my then girlfriend in the first insane, decadent, beautiful, painful year of living in Seattle?) but also it's an issue of time travel- I have the sense that I'm not sure where I am in my timeline, which self (25 year old Self? 9 year old self?) I'm inhabiting these days. It's a sensation both exhilarating and dreadful, and when I wake up to find myself, consistently moving forward (I think!) in typical linear fashion, I'm both disappointed and relieved.
I don't know what this experience means, or where it comes from. I don't know if this is a restlessness of the soul or of the brains inability to to properly absorb, catalogue, and incorporate the vast and disparate bits of data I am always asking it to absorb. Maybe I've read too many science fiction novels, or suffer from that ironically common desire among Americans of my age and younger to be somehow unique and destined for greatness. Or maybe this is a common experience in and of itself- maybe the very act of waking up is a disorienting experience for everyone, a pulling us out of one existence and thrusting into another that is by its very nature a confusing, sense-scrambling thing.
I don't know. But I'm fascinated by it, and curious, and more curious if this is an experience that other people have. And more curious to know, above all things: What Does This Mean? What Does This Say? What does the private, murky interior workings of our brain as it constantly churns out consciousness tell us about ourselves?
Here is another thing you should know about me: I haven't actually travelled all that much. Beyond the US, I've only been to Canada (both coasts!) and within the US, I have spent the vast majority of my time at home, wherever home happens to be at the time. It's not that I'm a homebody exactly; instead, at some point, I picked up the idea that every stone and leaf and crack in the sidewalk (not to mention cat, person, kid, old lady, old house, new street sign, etc) held it's own secret dignity and purpose, and I became fascinated with that, and maybe kind of obsessed, as well. So with such a backlog of things to observe and honor and think about- well, travelling seems a little bit redundant in that light. This is important because I tend to write and think a lot about the minutia, and about the things and people that I see right around me at any given time. I believe, strongly, in paying attention at all times, and the more overlooked and neglected a thing appears to be, the more fascinating it is and more proprietary I get towards it. You've been warned.
A final thing you should know about me: I read, a lot, anything I can get my hands on, and then there are all these fascinating ideas that have been practically downloaded into my head, and all I want to do is talk about them, ad infinitum, forever. I like ideas. I like learning how other people navigate life. I like arguing and figuring it out.
OK. So, like I said, good morning!
Next Post!
S.
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