Archive for the ‘Musing’ Category

A Ruffled Mind Makes a Restless Pillow

“This seems odd”. The thought crosses my mind as I lay down to go to sleep. It is one  thought among many. How do people just lay down and relax? My mind races constantly with thoughts of… nothing in particular. It could also be that I just cannot keep up, and therefore cannot understand. I reach out to grasp one as it flies swiftly by. Is this ritual we perform every night not a little odd? We brush our teeth (hopefully), some change and put on the ceremonial pajamas, and do whatever else we have to do before we crawl into bed. Well, apart from the repetitive nature of those habits I suppose that’s not the part that’s odd. I suppose it would be more apparent if it were stated in a different manner. Is it not odd that we do all these things to prepare ourselves to enter a comatose state? To enter that state almost completely unaware of anything going on around us and hardly aware of what goes on in our own heads? The way to summarize this could be – “Could you excuse me while I go unconscious for a few hours?”

The whole idea of sleep bewilders me. The irony of these few thoughts tentatively caught is that they plague me during a time when I am having trouble doing just that. Why? Perhaps it was the snack before bedtime, or maybe it is due to the other thoughts about the weeks ahead that just touch on the surface of consciousness. How should I know? I am restless. I don’t even understand the idea of sleep. I have the feeling that I enjoy it, though, how can that be when I can’t ever remember doing it? I know it was done, that is obvious in the large time lapse between when I attempted it and when I woke. Thus its concluded that I have in fact slept, but that is about as exciting as if I had of just set my clock ahead 8 hours.
In that case I write with the assumption that I do in truth sleep. Is it also true that I make noise in my sleep? How should I know, I’ve never heard myself. I’ve been told I do a few times. In that case I apologize to those women who have slept beside me. I did not mean to yell at you. I’m sure you deserved better then eight hours of poor treatment every night. I make a quick mental note on that thought that if I ever get married to make sure to sleep in separate rooms, I want to be a nice husband. I begin to wonder how sleep is relaxing at all? If all I do is go unconscious and make a lot of noise.

All this thinking has made me tired, could you excuse me while I go unconscious for a few hours?

 

“A Ruffled Mind Makes a Restless Pillow” – Charlotte Bronte (Title is a quote used without permission due to her being dead a few hundred years)

 

Ramblings in Confinement

The mind is a torment of abstract chaotic thought. To fully grasp ones own mind is to challenge a tempest to do its worst while coming out the victor. It is always working, always shaping, and yet simultaneously always breaking down and analysing. In the end it will always turn from organized, though beyond comprehensive apparent chaos, to true disorder. Why then try to understand something so powerful yet fragile? The goal I’ve learned is not to try to know everything, but to know only what you need and pass on anything you have managed to learn in your journey from disorderly chaos, to orderly chaos, and finally as we delve back into the original state we came screaming into this world.

In my time in this solitary confinement I have changed. The thirst for knowledge was long ago quenched. It is becoming even more important now that the ultimate goal in my life, during the short time of order and understanding, is not just known; But pursued.

The Debate of a Hungry Man

My mind is debating with itself; I hate when it does that. The night wears on and it
never goes anywhere. The debate mediator is highly biased in an activity that
requires impartiality. Its almost like he has something to gain or lose if the
debate tips one way or the other. In this dance of literary structures designed to
woo in sound logic the mind fails once again to come to a decision and another round
begins. At times a wish for silence from an inner, deeper, voice cries out for
silence as the crushing criticisms are tossed arbitrarily. This voice has very
little control; like a normally silent beaten child it cries out. The debate rages
on and finally is silenced by a thought that distracts all argument. A consensus is
reached without the mediators intervention.

Tomorrow we dine on pop tarts

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INFORMATION

I do not adhere to a schedule. I post when I have something to say. I'm a programmer who in my spare time enjoys contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and, everything. So there will be code as well as random little stories, essays and, musing about whatever interests me at the moment.