Great Expectations

If you have ever read the book Great Expectations, hopefully you can agree with me in that the author brilliantly portrays a potential flaw that many of us carry with us. Great expectations: I've had quite a few, and what I've come to believe is that they are not to be taken lightly. When we expect something the possibility exists that we will be let down. Life rarely goes the way you plan, and there is defeat when you are counting on something and it falls through. Great expectations can also be unfair. To tip the scales in your mind on how a situation should pan out, to hope for words from a friend, that your brother or sister will suddenly want to take an interest in your life. Isn't that just forcing them, willing them to do what you wish for? Even if they concede, was it on their own or because they were nudged toward that decision? However there is merit to these expectations. Without hope life in my experience seems less worth living. Without something to strive and pray for, how can we (I) go on? Yes life does go on, but with a heavy heart. And not to condone the overused, tacky, cliche sayings like "shoot for the moon and you will land among the stars" but we must have higher goals in our lives. Things that might be unreachable to us, yes unattainable situations. But what are we if we cease to strive, to struggle and to achieve? I leave that answer up to you. As per usual the balance, in this case farfetched dreams vs. hopeful persistance, is the issue. But the balance has not been defined, no one can look it up. They must derive it by living and come to their own conclusion. And I hope there is variation to the answer, because how boring is a single answer to a problem that everyone deals with. I myself don't know the answer but I'm going to start looking.

Where Did This Come From?

So this weekend I reluctantly attended a party being put on by the Undergraduate Chemistry Society. Like a party party, with beer and games and so on. I wanted to go and at least see what the students I've been taking classes with for the last 4 years are like outside the classroom. I literally haven't spent anytime with anyone of my fellow chemistry majors outside the university...sad, kinda. On the whole the chem majors are fairly socially normal, and it's not that they aren't interesting, they are just more dedicated to school than I am, these days I care about Young Life more than school. I really had no idea what I was in store for. So there I was: walking in the door to this party and there are people playing quarters, others just chatting. It looked like your average party. I was quickly ushered in to play quarters, then on to beer pong? Who are these people? They haven't ever so much as hinted towards a social life in class yet here I am. So I learned this night that I'm rather good at beer pong, which not exactly something to be proud of, it basically means you drink a whole lot. Finally my team lost(thank goodness) and I was relieved from drinking for a while. I wandered back into the kitchen/living room area, and tried to get a bearing on the conversations and groups that were occupying this space. At the kitchen table they were playing P & A(presidents and assholes) which quite frankly is too complicated of a game when there is alcohol involved, maybe that is the point. I decided against joining that game and sat a nearby couch. It should have been apparent to me sooner but across the couch were two electric guitars, an acoustic, a stand up bass and a piano. I didn't know whose they were but I was kind of in the mood to play a little guitar, so I picked up one of the electric guitars and turned on the amp that it was plugged into. Now I'm a struggling guitarist, that is a sure statement, but when I strummed the first chord, 4 or 5 heads turned immediately with excited curiosity. I never knew it till that night that, but a handful of my fellow majors are pretty decent musicians; one of them is even a music minor. So one jumped on the acoustic guitar, another began plucking the bass, and a couple huddled around the piano for an accompaniment. And we began learning each other's favorite songs and teaching them for the next several hours. There was this unspoken feeling that I could sense between all of us. It was so exciting to know that we shared a common passion that wasn't chemistry. It was fantastic. One of the girls had to leave early and in a slur of words she blurted out: "we'll play again soon, when I'm not so drunk, ok?" This was crazy, in one night, in one hour I went from a polite classmate relationship with several people to planning jam sessions and wanting, yearning to know more about our collective love for music. I can't sing a play very well together, but as the night was nearing an end, I lost my inhibition and went out on a limb. I played one of my favorite Dispatch songs and those around quickly joined in with me to sing. I think I may have gotten a few applause, but it just felt right. In that moment, at that place, with those people I felt right at home. Yet in reality we are still nearly strangers to each other. But this connection with music was real and it was strong. It was quite strange really how the night progressed. I ended up leaving at about 4 in the morning, completely wiped out, completely satisfied. My time will be short lived with some of these people as some will be graduating in the spring, but I hope there will be more good times with them. I hope this bond we formed can last the short while before we move on. That was so much fun. Man I love music

What a Waste

Well I sat down to check my blog between my classes today. I read some new posts from friends and then thought about writing a new entry. Just out of curiosity I checked for any posts that I had left unfinished to find that I have 7 drafts waiting. And I probably won't ever post them. Is that defeating the purpose of blogging? I mean this is supposed to be an outlet for me, to express my thoughts and ideas in words. But when I become self-conscious or unsatisfied with what I write, what do I do? When everything I write has the same sad, defeated tone? When the verses I write all sound like a broken record? Even if I decided that it would be worth getting these forgotten posts out in the open I no longer feel the way I did when I wrote them. It seems false, it seems unfair. But still they are there, letting me know they are not going away. I also can't bring myself to erase these pieces that I won't finish or publish, so what is the point anyway? I think to some extent I've been abusing the idea of a blog: it should be for others as much or more as it is for myself. I can keep a private journal for things that I don't wish to divulge. I shouldn't feel the need to post every thought that crosses my mind, only what I feel is pertinent for others to hear. Well it's Friday and I'm not going to let this get me down. After class I'm going to activate the satellite radio that I won from a Halloween costume contest(pictures will follow soon).