My 2013 Public Face

The more things change, the more things stay the same.  It's a nostalgic night in a new town that doesn't feel new to me at all anymore; hasn't felt new for months.  We value our memories but they are at their most vivid on paper.  Sometimes they are so powerful we don't want to taint or forgive them with our words.  

Many of my free hours are spent: applying for better jobs; exploring and adventuring; reading; laughing at the randomness constantly happening all around me; writing; struggling to not completely despise everything I write; struggling to make sense of my place in the world; struggling to understand motivations, people, politics, society, and deceptively basic concepts like empathy and love; drinking bottom-shelf whiskeys and cheap beers; listening to the depressing sorts of music that make me so happy; and shining lights on the dark regions of my mind.

Three years ago, I took it to heart when a co-worker supported me during a conversation, when she told me: "You are young enough to fail."  At 25, it still applies.  I've taken risks.  Many have been fruitful.  Most have been utter failures.  All of them have paid off in one way or another.  I don't know if, at the core, I'm still the same James Jackson I was the day I drove out of Ohio, but I like to think that I am.  But it's not like we're the same.

Here we carry on at the crossroads of a new, familiar dawn.

A Miniature Zeitgeist of the Self

Boy, I'm really good at not updating this. And when I do, I don't particularly have anything to talk about.

Therefore, rumblings. My own independent zeitgeist of the self.

I graduated college. They sent me my diploma before I could come back for a sixth year.

I have a real, big-person job. 30% of the time.

I'm currently shopping around a screenplay. We'll see if anything happens.

Most of what I have to say comes out on "the Twitter". I don't even think I can formulate complete thoughts longer than 140 characters anymore.

Last time I wrote, I thought my life was on the precipice of change. It was. It still is.

Last night, I had a peculiar dream. I was eating Oreos in my living room. I dipped the cookies in milk. I offered my friend in the room, a Pi Lambda Phi brother, an Oreo. He accepted. However, he double-dipped his cookie, and I got mad at him and woke up.

This is the kind of dream I am like to have. What does it mean? What does it mean?

I was reading The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht, but I am an exceptionally slow reader so I had to return it to the library before I could finish. I've placed another hold on it. It's excellent, it really is. I'd buy it but I don't really use money on books.

See you in six months?