I feel as though I grew up during a strange time in which things weren’t defined very clearly. There were certain ways of doing things in the past that were not often questioned due to the strictness of social pressure and then came free love, drugs, hippies, anti-war, anti-imperialist, anti-establishment protesters….and then I was born. After all that. When it all started to calm down, but the lingering effects were still felt. With some people still believing in them passionately, others still fighting them as though they were as common and powerful as they had been in their time and most people just simply going back to trying to make their way through the day not really giving them much of a second thought, but living their lives differently than they would have 20, 30 or 50 years earlier nonetheless.
I know these sorts of upheavals happen throughout history and in fact, are probably happening around me right now, but I just don’t have the hindsight yet to notice them. Nevertheless, I can’t help feeling that there is an overarching sense of confusion in the world around me. We’re so stuffed with information, facts, and experiences that we don’t know what to think nor what to believe anymore.
I awoke at 4am to a typical bout of tangential thinking, unable to sleep and began a spirited conversation with the bathroom walls. When those walls became confining and hunger began to claw at my stomach, alternately pushing stomach acid up through my esophagus as it often does, I carried my tirade to the living room where I held conference with my perpetual audience. The one which never judges, unless I choose them to, never interrupts but with tiny insights and questions that press the subject along, and the one with whom I’m always able to come to an understanding in the end.
We have concluded this: