#34 (with words)

clark
Originally uploaded by michaelrice1982.

If you didn't notice, this blog is called, creatively, #34, as it's the 34th blog that I've wrote. Kind of as creative as the Daily Rice. :)

Dear Blog,
Although I may never know how Superman feels for sure, I imagine I have a pretty good idea. Let me explain: today at lunch, I was approached by a small child who asked if she could take a picture with me. As it turns out, I may not be the man of steel, but small African American girls think I am great, what with my Army uniform on and all. I was happy to oblige and the young girl was happily bewitched. They say if you can touch one person…

Army weekend has come to its highly anticipated conclusion, and let me say, not a moment to soon. The militaristic rigor and cognitive ennui that pervade my soul during drill weekend is nearly enough to induce tears. If hard pressed to find some good in the weekend I would have to say that seeing my good friend Richard would be it. Richard and I are unlikely friends at best. From all outward appearances, it would seem as though we have absolutely, positively, nothing in common. He is a 31-year-old African American who grew up in the third ward (Houston) and was raised by his single mom. The fact that he survived is remarkable.

I imagine that the disparity between our lives and the experience of growing up in incalculable. But for some reason, I get along so well with this guy. We share a virtually indistinguishable view on life, which is a really bizarre yet beautiful thing. Despite our incredibly polarized upbringings and stages as of now in life, this great dichotomy is negligible when viewing our mentalities and identical conclusions.

I’m not quiet sure how that works out, since this anomalous fact goes against something that I believe strongly, and that would be that I feel the role of nurture, or an individuals personal experiences, are an immensely large factor in their shaping as a person. But for some peculiar reason, despite everything, we have reached similar stages in life. Sigh. As Anne Frank said, “We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same.”

I finished reading Blue Like Jazz today, which should give you an indication of just how much down time I have during Army weekend. It was good, and I have neither the time nor energy to go into an in depth analysis or critique of the book, but overall it gave me a few things to think about. The idea that the human soul, alone and without love, will invariably enter an atrophic state seems true to me, and deserves consideration. One of the few things that I can say with certainty is that God is love. Love is analogous to God in the fact that neither are rational and both share a certain degree of ineffability. To be more clear-they both are something that can not be reduced to a set of numbers and often times are not rational.

The greatest poets and philosophers can write line upon line of painfully beautiful verse and prose, but the second you actually feel one of those two things, man, those words pale. God is deep and sweet within our veins, pulsing in every fiber of our being and that is a fact that can not be measured or spoken of with the grace and reverence it deserves. If you feel it then you know, and not much more needs to be (or can be) said.

Earlier today, when driving back from the unit, I had something of an epiphany. It was raining quiet hard out, and as I began to drive back I reached down to turn on my headlights. But for some reason, instead of pulling the knob that turns on the headlights, I switched on the AC. From this I drew a rather cliché yet meaningful analogy: Often, in an attempt to get where we want to be, we do things that make us comfortable rather than the thing that will show us the way. By this I mean accidentally turning on the AC might make it more comfortable in the car but without the lights on I’ll never be able to make it anywhere. Although comfortable, without making the right adjustment I will remain stagnant, crippled by the darkness around me. I suppose that is a lot to take away from accidentally turning on the air conditioning. It could be said I’m making a bit much of it all.

I’m staying with my Grandmother this weekend, which is nice. We call her house “The Hotel” since everyone wants to crash here from time to time. There are always clean sheets and food in the cupboard, so complaints are not an issue. She is very funny to observe actually. For someone who you’d expect to relax and take things slowly, she is perhaps the most driven, goal oriented person I know. Things as simple as a trip to Wal-Mart are like an Everest ascent to her, and the time it takes to get in and out of the store is of the dire importance. Again, it’s very similar to climbing that 25,000 foot piece of rock to her, as her lungs will constrict and panic ensues if any obstacle, major or minor, gets in her way.

Smaller things, like looking for the phone or letting the dog on the couch are akin to perhaps a smaller environmental endeavor, such as climbing, say, Mt. Kilimanjaro (only 19,000 ft). In fact, she just whisked by the bedroom door in frantic search for something that I can only imagine was of terrific importance, looking more like a determined apparition than a kind, old Grandmother. Of course she is a great grandma and I love her very much.

OK, it’s getting to be that time and I plan to remain dormant for the better part of the night and day tomorrow, since I’ve been on limited sleep for quiet some time. So that’s all for now, but I have more already ready for tomorrow…

So until next time, I remain, coasting high above the streets of Metropolis, donning a huge red M on my chest,
MW Rice

Quote of the day:
For every moment of triumph, for every instance of beauty,
Many souls must be trampled.
Hunter Thompson