Imagination Series: Essay no. 2

Essay no. 2

by Christopher Brown

As a child entering puberty, I recognized the tomfoolery of man and his adult world.

Man, unlike child is willing to give up his imagination for the sake of 'industry' or 'practicality'. There is a better word to describe this 19^th century ideal, but it alludes me.

This adult sacrifices the spirit of imagination for the 'practical' world he thinks he will enter in doing so—abandoning 'dreams' and 'imagination' in single, broad strokes. He does not see the necessity of 'waking dreams', nor the conception (notion) that the adult is merely the continuation—or extension—of the child. What is to the one must inevitably be to the other. The clouds of creation to go with the hand that hath the means to build the dreams to stone and iron—bring the clay to life in the kilns of fire.

Man neglects this and more.

He sacrifices his very essence, throwing away his very center—the locus of his power to reason. Our ability to model external creation is built upon our capacity to dream. What better way exists to strengthen that skill than through the waking dreams of youth? Why must this sport only be for children? Are not the 'sports' of youth made fully developed in adulthood? Do we not become fuller players of the great American pastime of Baseball? How then can one expect the art of imagination to be any different—follow any different a path? Would not this be asking us to do no less than go against our very nature?

Man (or very much so woman) is blessed with dreams of waking slumber. We can experience in our minds the worlds of plenty or few—explore all that is, could be, or never will be. That we throw this blessing away at a very youthful age to “fit-in” is madness. Parents tell their kids to “stop living in the clouds”, [through] that age old insult to Socrates by Aristophanes in his play The Clouds.

We somehow believe adulthood must be the absence of childhood fun as opposed to its fruition. Imagination is the blooming of a flower and the ripening of its fruit that we may all enjoy together.

Have we not reached an age where man is “mature” enough in experience to see the folly of Aristophanes and his peers? We need imagination and must look to our childhood to find it.

Imagination Series: Essay no. 1

Essay no. 1

by Christopher Brown

The importance of imagination: when a child dreams for their first time of the waking of wonder while their body is very much alive, they experience the power of God's greatest gift. The storyteller's gift—imagination.

Unlike other gifts, this allows us to explore strange new worlds, seek out what is unknown and overall experience the power of creation.

The differences are that when God does it, the creation is made real, whereas man or woman only have—possess the power of mind. We may externally create our worlds bound within the confines of natural law, but are limited in our modes of childhood expression.

In preventing children from experiencing childhood, you do not allow them to make for themselves their own worlds. It is the worlds of great fiction that arise from great imagination or experience.

The pain of youth must be real enough to evoke a visceral expression of the external world. Our model building is only as good as our [capacity to imagine]. As a child, I swore off the world of grownups and other people to protect my imagination—its vividness.

People are so willing to pass off [their] 'fantasies' of youth for the 'models' of adulthood, only for them to discover if they search hard enough and long enough that those are the same—if, perhaps, built on a little more evidence.

Science is fantasies brought to life through mathematics and experimentation. The models we build are still childhood fantasies. The grand delusion of waking man is to believe they are something else—reality--for the only thing 'real' is the conversation(s) between people, everything else is a fantasy produced in the mind to make the external sensory input make more sense. We do not know what is really out there, beyond what we can talk about, describe and agree upon. We not even know if there is a 'real' world out there, or if the external is simply our false perceptions. Reality may in fact be very different then we can dare to imagine.

The child can understand this, why then can't the adult? Are we really so different?

Analyzing Teaching as a Subversive Activity

Analyzing Teaching as a Subversive Activity by Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner

by Christopher-Titus Mark Vanderwall-Brown

In Postman's themed chapter entitled "Crap Detecting"¹, he focuses on the idea that within any system of modern education it is the due obligation of said institution to focus not on subverting the masses to their preceptor's indomitable will, but instead, to focus teaching the majority, the mass of humble stricken bodies lost amidst the confused notions of the new age, how to deal with new ideas, new systems of belief, the influx of technology which has changed our world -- made it into something we have never before imagined -- and now it is with much effort we have focused our attention on producing within our young the methodologies necessary, the internal systems whereby our children are capable of detecting the "crap" perpetuated by our society. This may sound as though we are asking for the impossible, but we are not. Postman looks forward at this rare secular forest, not to abolish creation, but instead to fabricate a system whereby it may exist in the fullness and pleasures of its complete form.

It is strange to think that so simplistic a subject as "education" could transform itself into the overwhelming conception of being that it could permeate every portion of my very existence; I've often wondered if the reason I have so many problems in education, has nothing to do with the very nature of education, but instead, with myself. But then I wake up, realizing it is not I who is the problem with my ability to learn, but those who claim that holy title of -- teacher.

An interesting problem brought forward by Postman is the idea within the media society, where ideas are being blasted at the speed of light to every single cornea receptor of the optical nerve faster than anything that has come before in the past two millennia, changing every aspect of what it means to be human, what it means to possess knowledge, and how one goes about coping with this overwhelming force, bombarding our brain's with more simplistic information in an overtly "sensational" way than our bodies are capable, nor designed, to handle. It is in this way that Postman challenges us to deal with future problems, not in a ragtag method, but instead in a methodical process, whereby society is capable of finding a reason based solution to the unexpected changes always brought about by the influx of new ideas and technologies.

As Postman continues, we see his discussion move from the major description of the chaos in which society has propelled itself through the latter part of the 20th century, homogenized into an almost gruesome macabre picture, where individuals lumbar about loss and confusion about where their next meal ticket will be coming from, to a detailed discussion of the very nature of our problem and perhaps a logically constructed set of solutions. Of course this “meal ticket” is not to say society is "starving" per se, but moreover that, it is within this idea of a "meal ticket" that we are craving something sensually tangible, for we have a starvation of imagination; it is not the knowledge of information we crave, but the knowledge defined by the term 'wisdom'. Wisdom, of course, meaning knowledge gained through experience, which teaches us how to deal with knowledge of information. Sometimes this term is referred to in more scholarly journals as knowledge gained a posteriori or knowledge from experience.

I do not wish to drone on about concepts that seem pointless to the average person, but it is important to note that Postman intentionally utilizes great vernaculars of an academic standard, a romantic standard, which Postman prefaces. The varying nature of his discussion, for Postman and Weingartner described themselves as romantic educators, men whose sole desire is a fulfilling the belief that problems which exist in society, tangible problems, are capable of being solved through education. He quips they may indeed be leading to the mental instability of the nation for this, but that it is their hope these problems which do exist, yet me only theoretically be resolved, could be solved through education.

1. Here Postman constructed upon a quote by the great adventurous writer Ernest Hemingway when questioned, "Isn't there any one essential ingredient that you can identify [necessary to being a "good writer"]?" he replied, "Yes, there is. In order to be a great writer a person must have a built-in, shockproof crap detector."

And there was light!...and chocolate pudding?

And after what seems like ages I have been tempted to write. Not anything tangible mind you, but as a continuation of an ever affectionate story—Alice has awoken having fallen a great distance late last night down a very long and psychedelic rabbit hole, full with flashbacks of old Squaresoft/Square Inc. games and lost English friends she hasn't spoken to in any great or meaningful way since childhood.

This may seem well and good for all you happy mortals, but knowing mortals as I so do, few will wander onto this page for fear of being lost in a very outdated prose I consider comfortable. Much like C. S. Lewis considered his life's work comfortable when he compared it to Tolkien's manic life's accomplishment(s). I would dare say that Tolkien was more of a man, who in a very similar fashion to myself, wasn't satisfied with society's generalizations and wanted his world perfect and if that meant dedicating his life to his novelties, well dammit sir, he did just that. He'd cut off his left arm if it meant he'd get another chapter. People thought he was quite mad, mad as a march hare; mad as a hatter. But we already know that. His only real friend I dare say in those early days had to be Lewis. Why, I having no complacent or logical discourse to justify that statement with beyond pure unadulterated passion.

If my friend, this pocket watch carrying Rabbit in trench coat who has managed to tempt me, or dare I say, flog me down this particularly dark rabbit hole into a world I scarcely remember, but feel with such a passion it is as though my heart was lost in fuzziness, happens to read this passage of randomly connected statements (which I'm constantly editing for the sake of it) I dare to call writing, then perhaps he will find some deeper meaning in it all—we can only hope.

I'd slap him for that flashback, but seeing I rather like the confused sense of reality, the sense at knowing that this Lost World of imagination, childhood and imaginative originality—once all my own—has been brought back all by a couple of journal entries of pedantic whining on his part.

Ironically, and in not too small an order, he managed to give me an ulcer (to which Google gave me a correction for my incapacity to spell words properly without great assistance. It is to no surprise of my own that I am an infant when it comes to typos and spelling mistakes, grammatical debaucheries of the fourth order. Remember first order debaucheries are not capable by primary users of a language unless they are Americans after consuming large quantities of alcoholic substances in the presence of her majesty. “Good Morning Mr. President.”). To which I also might add, the inescapable truth in life is that while we try and avoid the reality of imagination, our minds trying to delude us into thinking fiction, fantasy is simply a delusion, created as a pastime by our troubled minds in order to escape reality, it strangely may yet become known that reality is overrated and is not really reality at all, but another fantasy our minds concoct in order to deal with the sameness of our lives and fantasy is simply an expression of the human spirit, the human condition in an effort for us to better understand ourselves and our potential. So that that simple yet eloquent boy may yet still become a heroic man and save the world under blade or pen.

May all your swords stay sharp, your pens flowing to constantly bombard the authorities with annoying legal rhetoric whose only purpose is to maim and prevent their dark selves from bringing about world destruction.

To a friend who often finds himself lost in a pub somewhere in Northern England I give a message. Perhaps fate is not always a warm and kindred spirit, but sometimes she has a way of bringing all bad things to a close and showing us our destinies even if we don't always realize them at first. Fantasy is the pathway to (into) the human spirit and perhaps your novel is your method of escape. Remember to imagine, to find the deepest meaning in life. Find the power to find yourself and the stupidity to laugh at my ridiculously high brow prose. Perhaps this is all just a flawed perception or mental constipation on my part, my inability to grow up, but I do think in some small way God is telling Christopher not to Grow up, not just my imagination's dying wish to live.

So to close, Andrew, World, Life, God, whatever else exists and is capable of reading my random prose—Perhaps this message will reach you in good light and measure. Find meaning in something, in the daily pressures of our existence. Hopefully there is some small purpose in it all that will give us meaning. I dare say I know not what it is nor where it is leading me, but at least it has been fun—this merry life we do lead. Good luck and perhaps I shall meet you again in another forum, another life, another world.

God Bless and may the pudding and flying spaghetti monsters of lesser men bounce harmlessly off your innumerable intellects.

Postman & Collins, an Academic Study: Progress in the New Millennium

Below is written my essay. Contrived in a twisted mind, perfected for the motal coil. Read on if you can handle it...

Postman & Collins, an Academic Study: Progress in the New Millennium

By Christopher Mark Vanderwall-Brown

December 9, 2009

“Western Progress” is a misconstrued mirage, propagated by the altruistic actions of sentient beings, desiring for a superior world; without active participation by individual citizens within their respective civilizations, this “Social Progress” will falter, failing miserably in its perceived objective to better social welfare and the human condition, pushing human civilization back into the cradles of time, as it has done so often throughout history; the themes of Postman’s epic work are played out within the poem of Collins, which illustrates a future crammed, not with luminous perfections, higher ideals and a generally better life for the individual, but, instead, familiar human qualities, clothed in simply tailored human faults and draped in the illusive perception of “dependence upon the society to solve the individual crisis”.

To this end, I endeavor within this placid prose, punctuated for conciseness, to illuminate the dark recesses of the conjoined works of Neil Postman, his magnum opus, Building a Bridge to the 18th Century: How the Past Can Improve our Future and former United States Poet Laureate, Billy Collins, who specific work “To a Stranger Born in Some Distant Country Hundreds of Years from Now” acts as a sarcastic parody and illuminating beacon into the tarnished hearts of American and Global Culture, a warning to us all that putting too much faith in “Progress” will lead to our eventual downfall, or at least, getting us hit with a good chunk of wet egg.

Neil Postman, a late professor, Paulette Goddard Chair of Media Ecology, and Chair of the Department of Culture and Communication at New York University, was an inspiring American author, a media theorist and a well regarded, and might I add, amusing, critic of modern western culture. The body of Postman’s work can be found slanting a vast range of topics, including: technology, the “post-modern, epistemic relativist”, education, the media, modern political activity and arguing for a return to the ideals of 18th century Europe, to which his final work so eloquently decrees.

The purpose of his last work, seem clearly his last and best attempt at teaching citizens of America his theories on how to better society, how it actually works and what is necessary to take with us into the new millennium. How we may create a transcendental narrative for a future beyond our imagination.

“What are we to make of this? There are many possibilities. Among them are the strange and fanciful dreams that seem always to accompany the onset of a new millennium. Some believe a new age signals the Second Coming of Christ, some believe it signals the end of everything, and in between the varieties of delusion are legion. The possibility that strikes me as most plausible is more mundane. And it has happened before, with or without the coming of a new millennium. I refer to the confusion that accompanies the absence of a narrative to give organization and meaning to our world—a story of transcendence and mythic power. Nothing can be clearer than that we require a story to explain to ourselves why we are here and what our future is to be, and many other things, including where authority resides. I am not writing this book to document the loss of narrative. I have done that already, as have others in books better than mine. Besides, I have no intention of writing still another depressing book about the breakdown of the human spirit. But it may be said here that when people do not have a satisfactory narrative to generate a sense of purpose and continuity, a kind of psychic disorientation takes hold, followed by a frantic search for something to believe in or, probably worse, a resigned conclusion that there is nothing to find. The devil-believers reclaim a fragment of the great narrative of Genesis. The alien-believers ask for deliverance from green-gray creatures whose physics has overcome the speed of light. The deconstructionists keep confusion at bay by writing books in which they tell us that there is nothing to write books about. There is even one group who seeks meaning in the ingenuity of technological innovation. I refer to those who, looking ahead, see a field of wonders encapsulated in the phrase “the information superhighway.” They are information junkies, have no interest in narratives of the past, give little thought to the question of purpose. To the poet who asks, “Where is the loom to weave it all into fabric?,” they reply that none is needed. To the poet who asks, “What gods do you serve?,” they reply, “Those which make information accessible in great volume, at instantaneous speed, and in diverse forms.” Such people have no hesitation in speaking of building a bridge to the new century. But to the question “What will we carry across the bridge?” they answer, “What else but high-definition TV, virtual reality, e-mail, the Internet, cellular phones, and all the rest that digital technology has produced?”

These, then, are the hollow men Eliot spoke of. They are, in a sense, no different from the alien-and devil-believers in that they have found a story that will keep them going for a while, but not for long. And, in a way, they are no different from those academics who find temporary amusement and professional advancement in having no story at all. I am not writing my book for these people. I write for those who are still searching for a way to confront the future, a way that faces reality as it is, that is connected to a humane tradition, that provides sane authority and meaningful purpose. I include myself among such people.” (Postman 9-10)

Postman’s theory is simple; that human dependence on “progress” to solve its problems is flawed reasoning and that “progress” only occurs because of human involvement. When the “human factor” is removed, society returns once again to the past where it comes from, as it did after Rome, and likely so will again, at least as long as human beings lose their narratives and neglect the importance of being human. He calls the dependence on future generations to save the present.

The justification for this is that “Progress” is an illusion, created by a series of historical events; formed first by a perception society came to during the Enlightenment, which was a great time of social and scientific achievement. The “progress” witnessed by society, began, starting in the late 18th century, to convince society that it was on a never-ending road to improvement. By 1900, men and women spoke of a future limited only by limits of our imagination. “By the eighteenth century, the idea that history itself was moving inexorably toward a more peaceful, intelligent, and commodious life for mankind was widely held. Both David Hume and Adam Smith argued that there existed a self-generating impulse of rising expectations that must lead to a society of continuous improvement. Bernard Mandeville argued that the ‘private vices’ of envy and pride are, in fact, ‘public virtues’ in that they stimulate industry and invention, and Hume wrote that the ‘pleasures of luxury and the profit of commerce roused men from their indolence,’ leading them to advances in their various enterprises.” (Postman, 28) He then continues by illustrating that while these ideas may be valid in a society of active involvement, the events of modern society are reversing the trend, and the dependence upon others to solve personal crises will eventually lead to another dark age in civilization, if not a complete reboot of the system.

Collins on the other hand is writing a poem as a letter to the future, he writes it also to his present. The persona is Collins himself, although sarcastically noted. The poem is a retort to critics who say he is like Mary Oliver, who he quotes as “I write poems for a stranger who will be born in some distant country hundreds of years from now.” This seeming censure of his critics at first seems like a merry stroll through the park, but after further contemplation serious questions begin to arise. While it may be true that Collins does not write to the future, it is apparent that he is writing to his present and to the future in what becomes as deeply philosophic as Eliot or Frost. When he uses the metaphor to ask the future if they, “O stranger of the future!/O inconceivable being!/whatever the shape of your house,/however you scoot from place to place,/ no matter how strange and colorless the clothes you may wear/ I bet nobody there likes a wet dog either./I bet everybody in your pub,/even the children, pushes her away.” (Collins, 89)

The discussion Collins has about this “wet dog”, is interesting as it appears to be a metaphor for the problems in society. The dog typifies the human suffering and the plagues of human experience as society futilely looks to the future for salvation. We are flawed and no matter how great we perceive ourselves, according to Collins, we possess faults. However, when Collins looks to the future he seems to do so in a warm and perky tone. Illustrating to me, that, even if the future is flawed, this is not a bad thing, as when people look back, it will be as we do into the past, some things we don’t like, but overall, we see ourselves in them. To this Collins speaks.

But how may you ask does the fallacy noted by Postman and the “wet dog” of Collins relate? If you think of some of the most popular science fiction movies of the past 40 years I think you will see the correlation. Postman warns us that our personal involvement is necessary to make change; we need a real narrative and the active involvement in government and society to bring about a better future. Collins argues that with the current attitudes, the “future will save us” mentality, society will end up in the same place it always does, brushing out wet dogs under the blanket, ignoring they are there, our problems, and when the problem comes to pet us, ask for assistance in the cold and rain, we push them away, as easy as it is, we detest wet dogs (problems). And to that Collins looks on with some sense of relish, as he knows that the arrogant ones will not make a better tomorrow, simply a different one, and even then, those of the future will look back and see our world no different than theirs, the flaws making us human.

Interestingly, the two authors give us some good advice. Specifically, when we look to the future we have two outcomes: Sameness or Improvement. Society like those dystopian futures can be terrible and different. Everyone, as it does today, will have the haves and the have nots, society will be clambered by restrictive governments, bloody wars and utter destruction. Our other possibility is the improved idea, the getting off your butt and doing something future, the Star Wars and Star Trek ideal. It may not be a perfect world, but it looks better. Postman and Collins give us this twofold theme in one, that if we propagate our future with effort, education and knowledge, a narrative for the future built upon our past and present, we can have a future, not too different from our present, but better, otherwise we may yet cast ourselves into the eternal fires of humanity’s darker side, and leave an encrusted, fiery chard hole where civilization once stood.

Works Cited

Collins, Billy. "To a Stranger Born in Some Distant Country Hundreds of Years from Now." Sailing alone around the room new and selected poems. New York: Random House, 2001. 89-89. Print.

Postman, Neil. Building a Bridge to the 18th Century: How the Past Can Improve Our Future. New York: Vintage Books, 1999. Print.

What is Divine Engineering?

Why is it called "Divine Engineering"?

Well, as Shakespeare put it, "Would a rose smell a sweet, if by any other name?". I know that doesn't answer your question, but it does pose the point, why is it called something. It is because humans have the convention to name things. The physical properties are independent of the name, but the name to humans has meaning. So then why did I pick such a peculiar name for a blog? Simple.

"GOD".

I hope that answers your question.

Now that we have been given the answer, let's use those deductive reasoning abilities to express why that is.

Simply, my pastor had a sermon not to far back called "Call and Response" where he spoke on finding your calling.

I won't break down the sermon here, but the gist was it broke down three things we can do to help understand what our calling is. I looked back at my life and strangely enough my calling, is a lot like a divine engineer. It's really strange. So, seeing this new turn in my life, finding what I believe is an adept description of my calling, I've decided to call my blog that and see where the light guides me.

I hope everyone will enjoy the ride. ^_^'

Now you may be wondering what specifically is "Divine Engineering", well, from what I can see from my personal experience, the basic description of an engineer is one who finds solutions to problems in society, more specifically, by taking theories and applying them to produce actually functioning technologies, systems and institutions. Other forms may be produced.

I admit engineering in recent times has moved away from the original term, where to "engineer" something, was " to arrange, manage, or carry through by skillful or artful contrivance." One might say that to be an engineer in the scientific or physical fields would be the modern notion of an engineer. However, physical engineering is not the only forms. We could have a social engineer, like Jefferson, Adams, and Wilson. People who we might define as Statesmen. People who took the ideas of others and put them into practice by creating a system/institution whereby something was created to solve a problem. e.g. government, or democratic republic.

Another type of engineer, might be a spiritual engineer, one who takes the spiritual theories of one and creates an active, functioning religion from it. A set of beliefs and an organization by which those beliefs may be disseminated. I admit this is tad controversial, but by my definition, people such as Peter and Paul, or the early Buddhists engineered their religions from the teachings of theorists. Jesus or Buddha, regardless of your personal beliefs were a form of spiritual philosopher/scientist. They were the enlightened ones of their age, thought deep thoughts and made great strives. (I admit, I believe Jesus was real, alive and the Christ, but for the purposes of this discussion, I don't think we need to look at that aspect, regardless of my personal views, nor taking anything away from the respected individuals.)

Finally, from what I could witness in my mind, there exists, artistic engineering. Moreover, the engineering of the theories practices and applications of art and the finding of solutions to artistic problems is its own kind of engineering. Michelangelo and Leonardo Da Vinci were their own engineers. Da Vinci in his own way (a little bit of the physical engineer and artistic). When they went about finding, using physical theoretical means (geometry and representation of physical existence) to express the world as it appeared to them or "is", they constructed new forms of artistic expression, but also the structure or systematization that was evident behind the creation.

I don't think engineering is merely creating something, but instead, creating something from a specific set of theories. In this way, Michelangelo and Da Vinci were both artistic scientist and engineers, for they created new theories and built creations based upon those theories. In the case of Da Vinci, he used his new artistic theories to make a system whereby it became possible to design the helicopter, glider, military weapons. All of these stemmed from Da Vinci's mind, but were unable to be expressed physically until he created the system, engineered the system, whereby these ideas could be expressed or transposed from his mind.

I suspect at some point I will receive a torrent of letters by offended and estranged members of the scientific community who consider my definitions arbitrary and demeaning to their life's work. I'm sorry to those who feel offended, but as this is (at least upon writing) a free nation, and because I am an engineering major, who considers himself a bit of a historian and philosopher, and because of my family's history of producing a vast assortment of engineers, I believe I have some idea what engineering is and what it isn't. Moreover, this is merely an opinion. I do not try to offer an argument for believing what I think, I only show this so you have an understanding about what I believe. Which I suspect entails the personal justification or reason for me believing my own views, but for the purposes of this article, I shall not be forming a rigorous argument, as I am too tired.

Now, as to defining the still undefined term "Divine Engineering".

It appears to me that all of these "fields" require an underlining branch. Sort of how solid state engineering resides within the domain of electrical, electronics and computer engineering. I use divine engineering as a umbrella term to mean all branches of engineering. And to be a divine engineer is more the person who is divinely inspired to find solutions to problems wherever they present themselves. My divine inspiration is to lead a life governed by problem solving in an engineering mindset. To help people whenever I can, to use good reasoning and help make society a better place. To as Dr. Dudley put it, "Assist in God's Rescue Service on Earth." He may have said "Plan" but I suspect either works. I don't edge a bold tone and claim to be "making" or "creating" anything, I'm simply doing as the Lord directs. So, as a calling, mine appears to be "the universal application of engineering and the specific mindset associated therein to solve problems where they arise as God directs and whatever resources man has available."

So , because of that, I think we can look at the future prospects of the world in a positive light and see a future bounded by positive, critical thinking, led by God's unending wisdom. Be it as myself in a relatively spiritual manner, or a traditional religious sense, I think we can agree that people generally try to make the world a better place when they are in a good mind and sense for themselves and others. My goal is to help, using whatever resources are available to me, help to procure that future.

Hopelessness in a "State of Denmark"

As futile as my present state appears, I believe its recent turn of events is the sign of my personal life's improving outlook. That delightful but not certain eventuality is the kind of altercation I've been praying for. It does not, however, spell the end to my family's incessantly destructive habits, nor will it spell any major adjustments in my parents' attitude toward me.

My father, a caring man at times, continues to bloviate and bluster in a wall vibrating and ear clasping volume. Just tonight, I had another altercation with madness. I had been doing my wash all week and apparently used all the bleach alternative, generic brand, while neglecting to remember to purchase a replacement box. An astute eye might take a second glance at that post, posing the query, “Why would a young man, nearing 23 years old, who is doing his own wash, through his own prerogative, encounter a harsh altercation for the mere use of a household cleaning product? Additionally, when the neglect was an honest mistake?” Sadly, I must agree with the analysis, it does leave open for speculation a vast assortment of reasoning, most of which would seem lacking in my situation. Sadly, the real reason that my father generally exchanges harsh words with me is fare more mundane: I do not meet his expectations and continually fail to measure up. I am a flawed individual, lacking at time moral integrity, and proliferate an exceptional strain of arrogance as a partial defense mechanism.

It is a sad sorted state of affairs I engender. I wish for once, we could exchange friendly words where the goal was to create a more positive outlook on life, but perhaps I'm asking too much of myself and him. We are blissfully ignorant mortals, transfixed upon the flaws of our brethren and not upon our own, twisted souls, gnarled by sin and the harsh quarters life dispenses.

When we are not hurling harsh terms about, we live a relatively mild and mundane life, one that transfixes between the extremes of natural and unnatural chaos and calamity, or the simple boredom that sets in between maelstroms. This short peace, is the only alleviation before another storm of overwhelming stress confronts our defenses.

But why am I complaining? I still possess my health, relatively speaking; my weight is a problem, but one that I hope to solve sooner rather than later. My youth, predictably in body is still with me, but I cannot say the same for mind. Age is a speculative and ambiguous term, because what kind of time are you talking about? Do we mean the age of my body, my life experiences, or my spiritual growth? If it's the first, yes I am young, two tends towards dust, while three is maturing but still immature.

Looking forward I guess my life harbors stressful memories of my past; injustices conspired and attributed, false claims made, and punishments dealt out to the deserving and innocent. All in a mere 22 year old skin. But what am I alluding to with all this talk of my past a present predicament? Simply I am tired, tired and restless, hoping for a better tomorrow, while still maintaining the present sucks.

That I surmise is where the joy of my life's turn of events arises. I have the chance at a better day, a better night, while all the while, practicing for my dreams. So what do you care? Hm...that is a difficult question, but I might simply ask, then why are you reading this? Perhaps you find meaning in other people's advice, perhaps you simply read to get a good laugh at a pompous inquiry. I cannot know your purpose or justification in reading this, only what I experience living my life and writing this literary expression.

So I come to another difficult quandary: Why do I lack the motivation to improve myself, my status and position. I seem to not lack the desire on a theoretical level, but in practical application I fail miserably. I want to do better, but lack the willingness to change. I have surmised much of my father's anger and frustration comes from that fact; he wants perfection, openly admitted it, yet knows fully that perfection does not exist. I guess he must be losing track of something. What I am not exactly sure, but whatever it may be, it is important to both his and my own personal growth and development.

All I really want to do is improve my lot in life by the sheer act of trying. Not unintelligent or unplanned action, but action maintaining spontaneity with the organizational proficiency I need. Where I can propel my life is beyond my sights for the moment, however, with a little effort and well placed spiritual guidance, I pray my life will be healed and impressed with the desire, determination and drive to get it done. I have the first, a partial second and entirely lack the third. That's the “get your lazy butt out the door” attribute.

I hope I can maintain my cool and focus to find a balanced perspective, where I can see my frailties while still forcing myself, with rigorous intent, to constant improvement. Where my life is headed, nor where I actually arise are beyond my scope of reasoning, but at least I can see and believe a better tomorrow is out there if only I straighten my tie, my weaknesses and get my life going in the direction God intended. I just got to pull my shoulders square, get my head out of my posterior and get with the divine program. Now if only I could find my membership card.