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Rated: E · Prose · Philosophy · #1534689
Just some ideas I took down while riding a bus
Kerouac said, ‘The only ones for me are the mad ones’. Of course, the first thing I asked myself after reading this was: Would I be considered a ‘mad one’? I obviously can’t answer that question because my own image is nothing that I can observe. But Kerouac got me thinking... I’ve always known that I never want to live my life on some grey, comfortable area because, to me, the extremes are far more interesting. But why? What’s the appeal? Why is being content not enough for people like me? Why don’t I feel alive when I’m secure?

It absolutely kills me to see the nice happy family that lives down the street. Father is rolling around the front yard, wresting his two little kids, while mother comes out in her apron with a pitcher of ice cold lemonade. They look so jovial in their austerity. What kills me about it is that I know I will never be able to enjoy that. I try to imagine myself as that father and it makes me sick. Is that all he has to look forward to? Playing with two small children on his day off? I don’t want to feel this way. I wish I could be like my own father because, although he gets up at 6 a.m. every morning for the same cookie cutter job, I can tell he’s happy. But the idea of my life being summarized by the board game of the same name, is enough to put me into at least a days worth of depression. So what’s reason for it? Why do I crave such a dynamic life?

I found that it all has to do with inspiration. Inspiration lays in a cool, misty morning on the top of an Adirondack mountain. At the same time, it lays in an unplanned trip to NYC, where we spend the whole day just ‘in the middle of it all’, seeing things that are beautiful in such an unnatural way.

I can explain my point by looking at the life of John Lennon. The man was alone for about 28 years. It’s clear that he was lived all by himself in the head of a genius. During those 28 years he wrote some of the most beautiful, clever, abut at the same time sad, words I’ve ever heard. When he met Yoko Ono his whole approach to lyrics and music changed (he would say for the better). Despite this, I find his later songs to be equally entrancing as the ones he wrote before he found happiness. So, as you can see, inspiration comes at the extremes. John Lennon could not have written all those beautiful words unless he was feeling extreme emotions, whether it be depression or bliss. That’s why I’d rather be pessimistic than indifferent. At least with pessimism I’d be feeling something. I don’t like when things simply ‘work out’. I need imbalance, but at the same time I need perfect harmony. So, my friends, I hope you can all find peace, whatever that may be for you. 
© Copyright 2009 Beowulf (johnakropa at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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