Friday, December 13, 2002

I was "stream of Conciousness" writing this... Its the edited version since it is truly boring.

I am again on another airplane, and I find that I am again struck by the Seminole beauty of the passing landscape. The light glinting off of the lakes of water and the mountains rising above the clouds. For the first time I saw what it might have been like thousands of years ago when a great inland lake filled the central valley of California. Vast and terrifying. If only for its awesomeness.

- Okay so I’m waxing poetic about landscape that I know is not really a matter of great importance to many. But every once in awhile it does take my breath away just because of the pure surprise that it has. I know that I don’t every feel like saying that I am blesses. But those moments…there are moments when you don’t realize it and they come upon you and the only acceptable emotion might be to cry. And even now I find that I am tearing simply at the sight of things that I have already-often seen from afar.

- Possibly the reason why I am so emotional is because of the sense of lost opportunity? Or maybe it could be simply out of fear. Fear of that something that I don’t have any faith in…lord knows that I don’t have faith in my own abilities. Never have, and I suppose that my laziness may overtake my will to someday aspire to greatness. I suppose that I am just recently struck with the fear that I have no original ideas, and that my own desire for originality has faded into a rote daily chore or normalcy, simply because of laziness.

- Watching the air trail of the previous airplanes that have just passed by this route, I suppose that I feel unoriginal. (Maybe it could just be that we’ve passed by most of the sierra Madre and are about to pass into the Great Plains.) All that vast flatness. How could that inspire any striking images, other than its lack thereof of topography? (God I sound full of myself don’t I) In comparison to the rest of the nation…so blank but I suppose in the same vein absolutely ripe for more…the unoriginality idea…what do I have to say that has not already been said by someone more eloquent and talented? I suppose being haunted by my father’s ghost, and his terrible failures I have a right to be skeptical of my abilities to surpass him. Possibly it could be my mother’s ill health, and her constant stories of “almost” discovery. I’ve been let down too often not to expect that I cannot be all things to anyone other than myself.

But at the same time isn’t it acceptable to believe in your own abilities? I know that I’m not a fool. That it’s not easy to make anything of yourself in a modern world crushed by people who are talented and determined. More determined and lucky than me. Truthfully I don’t think that I am so much more different than others in their desire for acceptance and reward?

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