thoughts

finally got around to reading ecclesiastes today--the first chapter, anyhow. i've been meaning to read it for some time. thomas wolfe says it's the best thing ever written in human history. i like it because: it's philosophical--concerning man's ultimate existential crisis: what does anything really mean and what's the point of living?

the first chapter asserts that "there is nothing new under the sun"--everything that can be done has been done before. this is where hemingway got the phrase "the sun also rises." i, myself, have utilized this philosophy quite frequently in heavy-handed conversations about "the meaning of it all" with friends. it seems to always reach that point: what's the point, in the grand scheme of things? if i can't create something wholly original, or even semi-original, then what's the point? what new territory am i aiming to explore--to stake as my own? i put myself through a lot, mentally, but for what? i'm always trying to expand my perspective--or at least synthesize all the information i'm taking in into one simple yet reductive worldview--one that enables me to easily explain daily phenomena and observable human proclivities. so: maybe the answer is to stop seeking additional answers. to take what i know, the knowledge i have, and make the most of it--finally organize it into something characteristically me: an indelible (as much as that's possible) set of rules and mental routines, modes of reasoning, etc. that help me make sense of the world. the time for reading new books, discovering new thinkers and ideas, exposing myself, in short, to new "content" in general may be over--i've already exposed myself to so much. now i need to begin the process of organizing my findings--consciously vs. before where it was unconscious or subconscious committing certain principles to memory--shaping my own code of values and putting these ideas into practice. not that i haven't already done this. i've just, like i said, never gone about it intentionally. i'm defined by who i've read, what i've read, the content i like, the ideas and people i've encountered--but what is this if i can't organize it into one singular scheme--if i can't tell someone (say they ask) what i believe without citing a bunch of names. "er...um...i've read the works of hesse and...er...um."

i feel pegged as a person and maybe, to some extent, my identity has been shaped by the books, movies and music i like--it's so predictably me. i can listen to something, read something, watch something and within five seconds i already know if i'll like it--if it's something i should dismiss or keep. i've made a conscious effort to avoid this recently--trying to incorporate a wider more varied diet of everything, resisting the initial impulse to skip to the next track or station or book when i'm not immediately smitten (hoping to submerge myself in new experiences and ideas)--but i always come back to the things which scream my name--the things that are so predictably me. i wonder if i like these things because on some visceral level they represent who i am internally or if i've been conditioned to gravitate towards a certain sound, aesthetic, etc. this is how social groups, cliques are formed--but are they "formed" or is it written in their blood from birth: these people will become deviants, these people will get married, have children and a good job, these people will struggle to express themselves. i know which category i belong to (and there are more, obviously, than the three i listed) but i also recognize and feel like i intuitively "know" the other categories, as well. i can hear their voices, if i choose to hear their voices (not unlike picking up foreign stations across the world or the next state over), but i can never, no much how much training, become them--i can never take on their set of beliefs, their characteristics truly, without forcing myself to act against my "nature."

essentially: it's acting and i've always been able to do this: try on different personalities, different personas. but the odd thing is, no matter how well i am able to impersonate someone, i can't seem to locate that thing, that intangible quirk, that makes them them and me myself. it's like hearing a song in your head. hearing it so clearly--the singer's voice, the instrumentation, the rises and falls--but not being able to decipher any of the words. how is it possible to hear something and not hear an essential part of it at the same time?

anyway.