 lemguinsquirrel
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Name: Josh
Birthday: 3/17/1989
Gender: Male
Interests: The Great Lover. Photography. Writing. Friendly discussion. Absurd random things. Pyromaniacy. Exploring old derilects. Video games (I'll admit it!). Squirrels. Dern good music. People. Life. Beauty. Love.
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  Lemguin Squirrel
Member Since:
6/16/2004
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| Onward Epic, No Hopes Barred
Ah, there is a place called home, dwelling not on temporal earth, not upon gridlines and destinations, but instead, within a state of being- that pristine fresh breath you inhale at the ease of the spirit.... School has been done for a week or so now. I'm back at home. For good, or...well, at least the summer. Long enough. Long enough to breath again and begin to sing ridiculously, smile obnoxiously, and dream ever so idealistically once more. To be with friends...hah, to have a social life again at all...such sweet air.
I'm back, and feeling good ever more day by day. On to the horizon. I'm ready to pen the path there with a soft heart again. Time to get it all in track as it can be, and hopefully just to chill and enjoy the bloody summer for once. Oh amen to that. ...back to writing again, back to reading, back to dreaming, back adventuring, back to loving.... | | |
| Ambition, Reprise, Conflict
Ambition
There's a funny side-effect of reality, ironically, when compared to dreams. One would normally equate the two as oil water- dreams, the quixotic realm of all romanticism, and reality, the harsh destroyer of such. And yet, on so many subversive levels they intermingle, almost like a slow steady waltz, so subtle, but so consistent that it fades into the background of ours lives. We have an image of them both, and an imagined pace for each of their steps; we search for such, and label thusly. And so our lives become full of either flowers or grime. We never see the two smiling at each other, hand in hand. "You must dream, son!" we hear, or perhaps, "I'm afraid, my daughter, that is naught but romanticism; the real world works differently." Maybe each thought bears truth, yet there is a couplet...and dare I verge more towards my own tendency of romanticism, I would call said couplet more so a wedding band.
The real world...oh, the harsh connotation therein! Why so? "Experience," one would say. It seems I have now had my own. I approach the end of this first college school year, and though my memory of it seems naught but a blur, it has undoubtedly coined itself "hellish." There have been wonders and greats, but there have been late-nights and cares and burdens that would make me fear the happiness of the rest of my life. I have been buried in some dark cave, as it would seem. Yet there is light to it, a line between futile pessimism and hopeful optimism- true reality, the very couplet of dreams, true hope, of which I speak.
If anything I have learned, it is that, just as dire and pressing and sometimes inevitable tribulations may be, your thoughts, your intentions, your hopes are the same. Life's events are a byproduct of choices, be it your's, others', or that of chance. But though affected, we are not governed by any choices but our own. As real as any assault upon our way of life may seem, our will, our dreams, are just as real, if not even more so. We may retain that, hold it to our last breath, and through fire or flood keep it as truth.
For so long as it is there, we are making that choice, and that choice changes our life...and hopefully, if intent be of love, those about us as well. And this intent, ah, the beautiful part, it may be the dream you will.
That is ambition, my friends. If it is there, if we hold it, it is just as real as all of life. If it withers, it is because we allow it. What destroys are dreams is not quite "the real world" as thought; it is our compromise. Sometimes, such is better, but it is up to choice. "Is this worth fighting for? Is this worth the change?" these are the questions to ask. Nonetheless, if "yes" embodies the response, fling words such as "impractical" or "silly" out the window. It is part of you. It is true. It is your choice. It is your ambition.
And so, it is so very very real.
And if you fight for it, if you work for the change, then see no reason to doubt its presentation in tangible form. That is what has formed so much reality. Many's dreams have shaped it. If them, then so us. Chance forces its hand, but we choose. Others intervene, but we choose. Yet a cordial smile they may extend as well.
I have been through rough times, and I have felt awful, yet in the end I realize I still had the choice. Chance battered me, as did the power of others', but my smile may have been my own, my intent was my own, and I may still do whatever I may to accomplish my goal. I am ambitious. And I feel that somehow, no matter what may come, I can do as I hope to. I have the impetus within me, it is real, and at the core, impetus, of some form or fashion, is what delineates life as it is.
And so dreams and reality dance. They may because they are so intertwined in truth. Our hope, our intent, our passions, they are the couplet, and our ambition, the music for their waltz.
Reprise
A few weeks ago, I passed my way through a graveyard. Among many tombstones of so very many hopeful sayings, I found, just barely etched in weather worn stone letters was perhaps the saddest phrase I've ever heard- "All we know is they came and went."
And perhaps I am cynical, but among all the tombstones, that one seemed the most true.
For we live and we die; it is what was inbetween that might have changed the etching on that elegy...but sadly different. Our lives seem focused elsewhere. Our elegies seem a form of narcissism- "We are to Heaven," of what we have tried throughout our life. We attempt a good life, and a good afterwards. Yet I must point back to that singular tombstone...for all such is nothing but a statistic.
I am unsatisfied with simply living the good life. On the other hand, I wish for no grand elegy either, if even an unmarked block, but when strolling through such a necropolis and thinking upon what it means to simply live a good life... I find it a waste.
I must echo my heart's continual cry that this our chance. I repeat my hope to live on a much grander scale, to live in love. I will continue with my desperate, and unable to be believed foolish, dream. Again, I say, may we change the world.
It is my goal, in whatever form, be it extreme or minuscule. I can not just attempt to live a good life, to do no ill and prosper. Perhaps that method is well, but though said before, my heart shouts otherwise. For no elegy, for self-endearment, maybe, not even so for Heaven, but simply because the path lay before us, because it can be done, because it should be.
...because so many souls long for it to be...
I have tasted the "good life." Material possessions, being well-provided for, involved in the world, success, pleasure. They taste of ambrosia but never satiate. I have seen it in college, the class and credit of progress, the grade and goal of a bountiful carrier. I have the possibility for the good life, the success, the leisure, the lack of care, and yet what I see, the mundanity of it all. I can not look upon such a future and feel anything but empty.
We must love, we must cry for it, yearn for it! Such thoughts reverberate continuously, yet they are so important to me. They must be the chorus of my life, the repetition, the part that matters.
And if I have an elegy, though small and weather worn, may that be it.
For in bluntness, or better said, "truth," I wish to change the world. And that, I can not escape.
This is my song.
Love, love, love...
This is my hope.
Love, love, love...
This is my joy.
Conflict
The school year ends within two weeks, though "aeon of strife" has seemingly been a valid description. For it, my bones are worn and my soul is tired, but with its end begins summer and new light. Ere soon ends what has battered me beyond the hours of human sanity and sleep deprivation each night. Yet in the crossfire of my own hopes and what I have learned within such cumbersome toils, I find new struggle.
Now...I'm not quite sure what to do...
I entered college overjoyed. "I will do this!" I said. "I can study this and get this degree and this job and..." I ever so eagerly continued. And though my tone may berate the statement, such choices and thoughts have not quite found themselves errant. It is, however, in light of my ambitions, my resolves of life though, that I simply must question.
At the moment, I'm studying biochemistry. I've somehow landed in our quite-frankly, cutting-edge structural biology lab at my university, shall begin working on real research next semester, and am quite possibly on my way to becoming a successful geneticist/drug designer. The enigmas of chemistry, of life, enrapture me, and I find the thought of all such intricate complexities of life astounding. Here I could do something I enjoy, help design medicinal cures, and have quite good job stability...and yet...
...Here also I could waste away in school. I'm good at school, I have a straight 4.0, but I am so burnt-out. When I think of what matters to me, the few years of school required seem so needless in comparison to the important of life. And though four years may seem enough, grad school would be a necessity as well, not to mention the increasing pressures of seeking a PhD. How much time must I spend for success? Not only here in school, but also in the job itself? And will I become caught up in it? It could all become just simple mundane.
So as the dream job, I've thought about photography. I love photography. I may be a massive wannabe, but I feel, given the focus, I could produce what would possibly be considered quality work. Not of hubris, but more so dreaming, I state that my friends support the notion, and I somehow managed to get recognized by the university for some of my stuff. I could for certain enjoy this job. No corporate setting, no mundanity, and importantly so, I could have the time to do what will fall into the key aspect of life- helping others...and yet...
...Job security, or even getting into the field for that matter, is an undeniable stroke of hopeful luck. Now, I feel I could do it, at least to a small degree, but the goals I have make this "small degree" possibly inadequate. I need no vast amount of wealth, but I do want stability for whoever is unlucky enough to be my eventual wife, and also, as will be a main front of my life, I want the resources to be able to help people, which, unfortunately for this society, means money, at least for much of my pursuits. Of course, as well, the issue of what schooling and the bothersome cares still associate themselves with this as well.
Then, to show just how entirely uncertain I am, dare I say it, I've even briefly considered politics. I loath even the word, but day by day I see more and more corruption within society, and it seems having a voice within the populace would be the only way to have enough influence to change such. Here would be great resources and a much broader effect for helping people than what I might have if I simply took one of my typical job choices...and yet...
...Well, let's face it, I'm not going into politics, at least not directly. It makes me sick. And I'm pretty sure I can't withstand more than three credit hours of political science classes anyway. But the thought does stick, and the benefits of it makes me question other areas.
Such as how am I to help? To who? Which of my talents should I use? Should I write books? Should I give speeches? Should I give from my pocket? Should I go on missions? Should I simply tread with a smile?
How does one start with the intent of changing the world?
Am I crazy? No, certainly not, regardless of how silly it may seem for such high hopes to fuel a war of direction within me. I feel no qualm in defending that.
Yet confused I am, with the clock slowly ticking "decide."
And so it appears some skirmish shall always be present within the human heart. Whichever side wins, may we battle for it with all our might.
Ambition (n)- an earnest aspiration, a longing; a drive, a force
Reprise (v)- to return to an original theme; to repeat
Conflict (n)- to come into collision or disagreement; a fight or a battle
...And so seems life.
There are still two weeks left of school. I have hoped, ever so redundantly, to have been able to write in this consistently. It helps, and often, I feel I need it, but as you may find from the vents of previous posts, my time has been ever so short. In thus you may not hear much from me for another week or so, yet victory is at hand, and the dern finals shall soon be vanquished. Geeze, it's time to be back on here more, and by then, I certainly should be. : )
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| Confounded and cursed paradox!
Baleful, enigmatic, twisted, indeterminateness!
...like sunshine and shadow writhing in some contorted dance with one another, jeering with false smiles...
Blast the inconsistency! The oxymoronical seasons continues, breathing its dread rasps of breath as one determined to putrefy the world to the utmost before departing. This mud end. End, I say! ...[big breath]... Such venom...I have found this week, ever more clear, how taxed my mind has become. The hours of toiling over schoolwork have dealt their damage. I've been resistent, but I have also been so so weak. My words have been of little else recently... I loath that fact. I loath it more than so much of the blackness of the world. But my heart is sick with its disease. It is, finally, spring break right now. And now, however, this week has caused me to realize how unwittingly instable my mind has become. The sun has shown down upon me, and so for some, this post may seem strange or ill-fitting, but it must flow out. For my soul is tired....so very, very tired. I am alive, walking, laughing, loving, and being blessed....but my soul is so very tired. Sunday I believe I realized this the most. The day felt as if it had been more akin to a gruelsome week, and so at the end, I welcomed my bed with the sense of a soldier returning home. The morning was marked by returning to visit my old church. I felt almost sick being in there. The atmosphere was oppressive, and I had to fight the urge to rudely ride home and go to bed. I saw the same religious absurdities that normally my optimistic mind would allow an understanding smile to, but my heart was jaded. I heard words but no action, songs but no truth, prayers but no thought...This, however, is expected to some degree. It is my hearts response--the animosity, bitterness, and unwillingness to simply find that which is good--that disturbed me.
...Though I daftly evaded the notion as I could, I soon saw I was calloused. Whatever light of goodness existed within those hours was bent around my own perception into the form of a shade, one that gnawed at my own heart. My prayers, my songs, my thoughts were all stagnant and dull, if not nearly meaningless. And only in the bright eyes of a child could I see thus. A little girl was held across the shoulder of a man in the pew in front of me. She smiled and laughed and played throughout the entire service, but at one point amidst a song which poured forth from my mouth like nothing but empty words, our eyes met. She stared quizzically at me for a few seconds, and I, in the dull unawareness I have recently possessed, continued my gaze as well...and then she formed the most sincere expression I believe I saw that day-- a frown. I dare not detail more of story than existed, but in the least, she served as a mirror to me. The sorrow I felt from her bowed head and dimmed eyes as she looked at me let me know one thing that at least for certain was in actuality-- between the souls of the two who looked upon each other...there was a profound difference. Children may dance honestly, sing beautifully, and laugh so sweetly because their effort of life is, simply put, to live. Their hearts have not been tarnished by cares. I remember such days, and I maintain that they remain still. I have felt them, and I live them. The sky is still just as blue and the sunset just as golden. But my own self of late has seen little other than grey, a patterned existence based on schedules and automaton-like living. The rest of Sunday felt such pains. So many points throughout the day I felt, almost without reason why, as if I would cry a torrent. Others, I would simply sit and stare, lethargic and worn, musing over how I wish I could simply sleep till some summer of life. My body became (and has been) physically tired from such a mental state. I simply wanted to rest. And eventually, that night, rest came. I greeted the bed as if no greater gift had been given to mankind, laid down, and just began to openly weep...though not of base sorrow, but actually of intermingling joy. And so is the absurdist paradox I have thus lived. I wept because it was finally spring break, because the next day I would celebrate my birthday with wonderful friends, because I had so many who love me so truly, because of the success I have faced. I cried myself to sleep, but did so with a smile. The next day was just as hoped. My friends met me to play racquetball, we embarrassed ourselves over ultimate frisbee afterwards, yelled and laughed over ridiculous hands in cards, screamed hysterically over a movie comedy of all movie comedies, and I saw, over and over, how much my girlfriend has truly loved me, along with reaffirming the extent of which family and friendship may enlighten the soul with selfless blessings. It was a brilliant birthday, and I have gotten more than I deserve. It reminded me of the success through which I've lived. I've been given numerous recommendations to honorary titles within the university to which I go, from academia even to my photography. They're little things, and I may boast no right to arrogance, but in times of trial, success is success. I see such astounding material blessings circumventing my complaints of life. I foresaw a possible grand and glorious future. ...And today, the next morning, the most I could do upon awakening was think "Dang...that was good."
With all such matters pervading my thoughts, I can't deny that things have gone unequivocally well for me in life, and yet, there is the paradox, and my frustration. School has broken me and strained my heart beyond what seems normal bounds-- Bad.
I have job opportunity after job opportunity, with all such work cut out for me to the utmost-- Good.
I have had no time to think, meditate, or salve my confused soul-- Bad.
The most wonderful girl, so caring and true, and spent this time with me as my girlfriend-- Good.
It is spring break. Classes are out for a full week-- Good.
Yet somehow I still have four classes of homework, and my free time is taxed-- Bad. ...Oh yes, that last one is right, and perhaps the most damaging thought of it all. I've probably deferred valuable time needed to work on what is an excessively long "to do" list, even for an empty week, to write this, but my mind needs solace. I counted on this week to have time to heal, to rest. And yet here I am with my time strained once more. I am compelled by friends and family to so use my time with them, and I am compelled by the demon of homework to waste away the remaining hours. It seems the perfect balance of both great and awful, and my mind is suffering inbetween I long for consistency. I long for a break in this madness. I long to simply live what I would find to be a normal life.
My mind is, and has been, utterly confused. Its emotions have been dulled amidst the strife, and whether things are on par for a brilliant sunny day or the peak of my ruin a notion darting across a very blurred line within my head. I do not know if I am making the right decisions right now. And worse, I can recognize my mind dipping itself slightly into the dark pool of selfishnes, though now, it is indestinguishable from the instinct of self-preservation. This lifestyle...is possible, with the outlook and planning I have seen, to continue through next year. Or next year could be made entirely wonderful by the hard work I have implemented. I play the risk game, and I don't have a clue what the result will be, no probability, no idea of luck, just a sinking feel entangled amidst desperate optimism. I don't know...I don't know...It has all been so wonderful, and yet it has all been so terrible. It seems as if I am simply caught within a war of attrition between the good and the bad of life. Whoever has the highest patience wins, but neither side gives up until it has exhausted every last bit of strength available...which, unfortunately, bodes ill will for me. ...[big breath]... It is spring break, and I have homework. Life has continue the same, and I have no idea if it will ever quit. There is great highs, and great lows. I simply write to survive. | | |
| Of Weariness and Wishful ThinkingThe strong breeze blows, gushing with whispers of harshness but carrying with the swaying of grass and rustling of life. The sun peeks in and out of clouds both grey and white alike, dropping down the warmth and light of spring as fickle as the path of a leaf in the wind. The air often grows heavy, even as the day grows radiant. ...And so my mind gets caught up in the paradoxical mix. It feels like nothing but a brief clam of a storm. With the sudden shifts of vivid spring days to harsh winter hours seems to come an allegory to the concerns of the mind. I'm relaxing now. A day of classes is over, and I feel productive. All homework for tomorrow is complete, I caught myself up with a bunch of old photos (now uploaded to Deviant Art), and have allowed time to be spent among the thought of friends. A complete day it seems. The week, nonetheless, presses in. Large projects and exams abound. My mental scheduling insists life may reside in such peaceful terms, but I worry nonetheless, and my attitude becomes heavy. When one has worked in a tireless hell for so long, it is hard to imagine that any break is but more than ephemeral. And beyond that, the future... Next year I am expected to not only take classes, but also be a residential advisor and do official scientific research. With the stress that has been involved in simpler cases alone, I wonder if such is even able to be done? Or better yet, is it even worth it? But far more pressing, I feel, is the mind and the underworkings thereof. To be thus taxed so consistently without time to focus and meditate...it is subversive, but as life now dances to a more normal tune, I can feel the damage it has done more clearly- selfishness, laziness, shallowness. The war between these harsh effects and the heart I have worked so hard to maintain flows back and forth, ever so slight, and perhaps only in thought alone, but there nonetheless. Yet I have taken today as healing. I have pushed homework back. I am blatantly procrastinating- the one thing all sensible minds would implore of me not to do in order that I may not return to the state in which I previously existed.
Do we not deserve it though? Should we not live? I think the heart must be more important, even if the oppressing situation is only temporary.
I worry though, and so the winds of thought shift back and forth. The demands of success seem fruitless in comparison to the damage they do...such expectations are strong to the hearts of man though. It is needed somewhere within.
Ah, but to what extent?
May the light shine for now though. I will rest and thus hope strengthen myself anew. Push on, plod on. The battle maybe not be won, but I feel one deserves to stop, catch his breath, and simply enjoy the view.
...For what flaws I have had during all such times, God please be patient. I hold no guile; I am weak and sinful with a mind of decay. But I still see the sunset and yearn for you. May that be the sufficient song on the ever-shifting wind...
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| It's Been the Best of Times, It's Been the Worst of Times Seriously. Life's funny in that way, isn't it?
The Worst of Times:
I believe I'm seriously beginning to find today's society an abhorrent little bugger. I mean seriously, if it were a tangible object rather than an overall concept, I am firmly convinced I would regurgitate all over it. I would have eaten pickles and beefaroni the night before as well. It would be quite gross. I speak, my friends, of the travesties of the pursuit of progress simply for the sake of progress and/or the capitalist dollar, or in more blunt (and at least relative to me) terms, the travesties of education. Now, I know I whine continuously. But for the first month or so of this semester, my non-academic life has been nonexistent (...much like the last one). To the point of being unhealthily so. My eating habits are horrible, I haven't been able to work out, my time for reflection was shot through a bleak and black void. But this is the norm, you say? Oh no. I actually payed attention to specifics so arguments might not go thusly. For literally 1.5-2 weeks (this is a minimum period of which I may truthfully claim, with 100% no exaggeration), I have had NO, read me, NO free time at all, sparing 30 minutes for meals, and sometimes not even that. This is also with staying up to at least 12:00am (or mostly 3:00am) every night. Maybe that is the norm, I don't know, but that is unhealthy. The worst example? 9:00am-3:00am the next morning, straight, working. And this is with me not procrastinating. All in the name of job competition and advancing technology. Blah. Puke, pukity, puke, barf.
And can you imagine the stress, and therefore how dramatic everything seems, during such a time? I actually managed to eat with my parents during one night (sad, ain't it?). During which, I was so stressed from the work overload that I was shaking and singing to the biscuits I was eating. Were I to have began running frantic circles in the middle of the restaurant while wearing various steaks and soup bowls on my head, I would have thought it to be the best, and assured my parents of the same as well. It sounds so trite, but sheesh, what that does to the mind. I would have given all my unnecessary organs to be back in the day when the total number of wheels in the world could be counted on one hand, was an odd number, and the closest thing to electricity was playing lightning bolt tag... The simple things like free time--oh how we need them. The worst of times side of things may seem silly, but believe me, it caused a hellish time period. The Best of Times: But I speak of the best of times afterwards. Why? OH SWEET FAINT HOPE OF OPTIMISM PLEASE BE THE LAST THING ON MY MIND!!! AHHHHH!! And I hate using all caps. Nonetheless, there truly has been a spring of joy within such times. And luckily it exists within the overall, the eventual outcome, what's important. I can look at my life now and have one of those "Dang....that's nice" moments. Quite stunning indeed. Oh let's do talk about the good stuff, shall we? Yes, yes, I like to hear about what's good. Oh my freaking goodness, I have the most wonderful person as companion and friend ever! And did I mention she's my girlfriend to? In times of trial, it helps, if is not necessary, to have that leaning shoulder. Luckily for me, that leaning shoulder take the form of Natalie, one of the kindest hearts, brightest souls, and most comically amusing and enjoyable persons to be around. Period. Lucky to have her? Oh, an understatement indeed. I have two nice jobs pretty much lined up for me in the future, already! Two! Heck yes! For the summer work force, I get to once again work at my old highschool. That may not strike as much, but if I have any old entries on the work there...um, well. I'm just glad it's still classified as work. And it pays well too! For next year's school year, I've already gone through the interviewing process and am accepted for the position of Residential Assistant (RA) on one of the on-campus dorms. That means I'm one of the go-to guys on the dorms. I also work the office and front desk and occasional organize various manners of creative festivities. It's a fun job. They basically pay me to be a people person. Awesome. The pay comes more in perks, but one big one is that the cost of living on campus is entirely removed....which is a pretty good amount of mooh-lah. My future, permanent career...well, I've already got a head start on it. At the moment, I want to be a structural biologist. That means I screw around with proteins, genetics, and the like, hopefully in an attempt to cure diseases. More than likely, this means I'll be working in a research lab. Well, guess what? I already am! I'm in a structural biology lab group right now! Crazy, huh? It was basically me being blessed enough to be in the right program. Lucky opportunities. But the implications of this to my future career, insofar as attaining it and working efficiently in it, are pretty dern cool. Now, I'm not actually doing work right now...more just tagging along, learning, and doing grunt things; however, when I'm comfortable enough with it all, I get my own project. It's cool stuff to. As a base overview, without getting all to high-techy, shut-me-up-with-duct-tape-ish, we insert DNA into E-coli cells which causes them to make specific proteins we want. Then we take those proteins, stick them into these two cool machines, and are able to tell what the protein looks like and how it interacts. Oh, and the key factor, many diseases (it seems like pretty much all of them to me now...meh) are caused by protein issues. We fix the protein problem, we cure the disease. And I'm "working" on that right now! Oh my. So overall... it appears everything is pretty much just laid out for me. The future is wide-open for opportunities; it's looking good. Perhaps, this is more so the best of times after all. And Now: I'm kind of in one of those bumps where things have settled. I actually played video games tonight. I actually had time to go to church tonight. I actually had free time. Dear Lord, I used that word? Thank you God! My mind is much more at ease. Self-reflection gradually eases back (though I'm sure it won't yield happy results after such a time). The homework certainly still exists, but it seems to have backed off some. One particular example being that Natalie and I talked to the teacher who resided over the class in which I worked from 9am-3am on. He apologized, bought the class doughnuts the next day, offered us tons of extra credit, moved our assignment due date back, and gave us no homework. This was our worst class...so things have certainly changed a little. Though I'm terrified of how long it will last. I sometimes wonder if I can withstand it getting that bad again, but I believe so. That's life for you. I'm sure I'll be swamped soon enough. Until then, there's joy and mirth and healing. Oh yeah, buddy! So all such is why I haven't written in so long. I've been undeniably busy. And yet, all that I've done is thus summarized within the above lines.
I hope to write more soon. There are things I want to get out. Good things. Learned things.
My typical all-too-sappy-and-probably-ridiculous-romanticism crap.
Hey, I'm honest with myself. Good to be back on here, if even for a bit. I hope all who read this are doing well. | | |
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