.technologically mediated
You pick up the laptop again. Too many people telling you to write these days, and too few reasons not to. There’s something about the fall air that is useful to your mood as well; for a long time you have contended that you have reverse S.A.D. You aren’t only happy when it rains, or when it’s cold, but you and Shirley Manson do share elation in condensation.
You read the last line and grimace a bit. Really? Back to it.
Your body’s chemicals are relatively normal for this evening hour; the methylphenidate is seeping out of your bloodstream, much as dusk descends. The calm comedown could be because of the comfort of a familiar song in your earmuff/headphones, but you know part of it is the drugs, at least. You know this partially because the words you write at this very moment don’t ‘ring true’. They are an account of your life at the moment, but they don’t have the creative you spark you feel most times. Many people on the stimulants claim this is indeed a side effect of them: clarity’s cost is creativity. You tend to agree.
Today, though, the clarity was useful. Your world expanded, on three counts. It is rare that such things happen, even more rare that they come grouped. Your understanding of your profession, of bridging disparate sides, has always focused on two warring epistemological stances; today you learned of a third stance in the fray. And no, you reassure yourself, this is not a stance that leads down the infinite regression of a slippery slope - it is a factual issue. One you must think about more later. It’s time to understand it. The second expansion came in realizing (well, remembering, really - you come back just to clarify this point) that sometimes, outliers do exist. It’s heartening to see this, as part of your understanding of yourself is that you are a bit of an outlier, not necessarily worthy of inclusion in a Gladwell-penned sequel, but something….
You change the track from one familiar tune to another, by the same band. The songs remind you of your crappy monural radio that you had as a kid. You waited so long to tape this song, but that was so long ago.
…yes. Something. That is what you are. You smile at yourself, almost typing an emoticon on the page, but you decide against it. The third expansion of the day came in you realizing that you’ve….
You pause here, not quite knowing the words to write down. Is it that you’re driven by helping people? You’re rational? You’re aware of the limitations of your view? You’re unable to write, as if struck by some sort of sudden aphasia; you stare at the cursor blinking at the end of this sentence.
You change the song, and go back to staring. The cursor has moved at this point, so now you see the word ‘sentence’. The blinking below the word makes your eyes bounce back and forth. You sing along to the song in your headmuffs. It is a good night to be wearing them, as the sun takes with it the buffer it provides from the constant breeze of the day. You think about your lunch date, look up to see who is around you, look back down to type more, and realize that your …
The drugs must be leaving quickly, now. You notice an Aaron Brothers Art Mart bag. When you were a boy, your father repaired the air conditioning units for the Phoenix area stores. There have not been Phoenix area stores for a long time.
… third idea is this. You LOVE being challenged. The thrill in finding a world-expanding view is so novel to you at this point that you really latch on to the happiness inherent in it. Happiness? Many of your friends would wonder why you might find happiness in questioning your beliefs. The issue, however, is not so much the questioning, but the discovery of cogent, rational, challenging views. They are so rare in the world today, and to the skeptic’s blood that pumps through your heart, these arguments are nigh intoxicating. Ideas, good ideas, that challenge and inspire, are precious. Your quest to push yourself goes on, with renewed vigor.
You go to post this most recent entry, and find your access to your school computer network blocked. Slightly perturbed, you call the number showing up on your screen. You motion Destro over. You show him what you are writing, as you two are scheduled to go shopping. You don’t know what’s going on… and you will have to find the resolution written later on. No time to tarry, this eve.