All about the man, the myth, the legend...
Or at least, about the guy the legend bumped into causing chocolate milk to spill everywhere...
I'm the biggest fucking dumbass that ever claimed to be loved by Jesus. It would be prideful to say that I've sinned the biggest and best of sins, and foolish to think that. But I believe, whole-heartedly, that I'm up there in the premium league of those who have sinned in the dumbest and most petty ways. I sin in uncool, shameful, pathetic ways; which often stops me from talking about it.
I believe Oscar Wilde was right when he wrote,
"Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm. Philosophies fall away like sand, creeds follow one another, but what is beautiful is a joy for all seasons, a possession for all eternity." (The Prose of Oscar Wilde)
I believe the end game is that we dance no longer with the shadows of Beauty, but the Shadow Caster.
G.K. Chesterton makes a valid point:
The word amateur has come by the thousand oddities of language to convey an idea of tepidity; whereas the word itself has the meaning of passion... A man must love a thing very much if he not only practises it without any hope of fame or money, but even practises it without any hope of doing it well. Such a man must love the toils of the work more than any other man can love the rewards of it. (Robert Browning)
And so in many ways I am indeed an amateur; a proverbial jack-of-many-trades and master of none... I attempt to play musical instruments, photograph, film, write, I've learned some Russian, German, Spanish, and Latin - I dabble in several things and try to travel as I may.
My verse writing professor once told me, "There's no such thing as a boring place, only boring people." So I guess I'm trying to not be boring; not to fulfill a checklist or to say so, but because there's much to see and do.
I'm half-Asian - so that means I'm either good at math or that I know kung fu, right? But seriously, when we seek out the man on the mountain, he's always some old Asian guy with white hair speaking gibberish in parables you can't understand. Basically it's like being Jedi Master Yoda, and who doesn't trust Yoda? Only bad guys don't...
And what does this prove? Wisdom? No, just that I'm a big nerd.
There are many ways you can approach this, at least my Art History professor told me 'twas so. I am, at my core, an analytical person, but it's the organic experience that makes me come alive; the times when my words are like wood chips falling from the table saw and it's as if those pieces of wood could even begin to describe the carpenter's masterpiece.
To be honest, most of the time I don't know what to do. So I do the only thing there is; put my hand to the work in front of me. But I'm learning, as of recently, that you can choose your detours, and the great Policeman and Child Abuser God isn't going to break your legs or wait for you to screw it up again. So if you have the opportunity, I vote for the detour to be taken.