Possible Hypocrisy

Every day I come to my blog, here. And every day I click on each of those links over on the right hand side of my page. A few of my friends (Amanda Mae, Becky and Caitlin, &c.) almost always have something new to say. Most do not. And it makes me sad, and I often wish that people would post more often.

And then I realize that I rarely post either. Sorry about that.

My trouble with blogging is I keep a paper journal. I do so for various reasons:
- I like writing in cursive
- It is safer/more private
- It is rather more romantic than using a computer
- and so forth...

So when I really want to say something, it is usually said there. I rarely have coherent opinions on things about which I could blog, as some people do, which prevents me from posting those sort of things. However, I do not want to end up like a junior higher on myspace, only ranting about what emotional trouble I have been going through, and about how horribly hard life is. *shudder*

The problem, I suppose, with avoiding that scenario (of becoming akin to a junior higher) is that people often only want to stop and write when things are not going well.
If my life is wonderful (as it is a fair amount of the time, like everyone, I suppose), then I do not want to put my living it on hold as I type about it for my few readers to see. People in general, I think, follow this principle, and it is probably why those poor junior highers received the reputation they did.

On another (related) tangent, I think that this is also why there are many more sad or depressing songs (or poems) about love than happy songs (or poems) about love. (This is based off of a discussion with my friend Katy, to give credit where due.) When people are sad about or disappointed with love, they have time to sit and write sad, disappointed songs (or poems) about it. When people are happy about love, they do not have the time to write happy songs (or poems) about it, because they are busy being happy with their beloved. Which I like, although it would be nice for more happy love songs (or poems) to be written in general. Er...quality ones, to qualify that statement.

So, that is my apology for not writing often. Either I am too pleased with life to be bothered with recording my thoughts (a deficit of my soul, more than likely), or I record said thoughts in my paper journal.

Perhaps what I need is more frivolity. To be unconcerned with having something important or thoughtful (or long) to say. To simply say.

Perhaps.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Intellectual Frivolity

Last night, during the Republic Metathon, I made a run to Eagle's with Marlene. I do not remember how the topic came up (it must have been quite quick, for the walk to Eagle's is not very long, and we were deep in our discussion by the time we got to the fountain), but the effect and thoughts of it were rather interesting to me. Actually I do not remember most of the conversation (like oh so many discussions in which I have taken part). However, the important bit is the content and conclusion. Ahem.
I think that the conclusion is that there are two types of fools, or those who behave in a foolish, or frivolous, manner. The first type is your stereotypical fool, who does not comprehend anything in the world, especially not his own particular ridiculousness. He might be also classified as a sort of idiot, I suppose, though I ought to run that by Marlene to see what she thinks.
The second type is where we classified ourselves, and the majority of Torrey students (mind, not that the rest of people are of the other sort - most people simply are not frivolous at all). Be as that parenthetical amendment may, we sorted ourselves among those that one might call the "intellectual frivolous." We see the universe. We think about and discuss and wonder at the universe, and life, and all that we encounter. We desperately attempt some semblance of understanding of it all. And this bit of understanding at which we grasp leads us to the realization that the universe (and life and so forth) is a wonderful, marvelous place, and what better thing to do with our slight knowledge of it than indulge in frivolity?
It is when we do not understand things that we (all humans? well, at least my friend and I) become serious and, dare I say it, formal. But, in the middle of this great conversation about some of the biggest ideas a man has ever put forth; after a giant breakthrough on both our parts; after rationality and solemnity had brought us to some degree of understanding, we were delighted to skip arm-in-arm giggling through campus - and yet, still able to not lose that spark of rationale, discuss frivolity in a quite intellectual manner, even as we partook in our sacred share.

Hurrah for friends, and books, and a cultish community where the two may be perfectly combined into near utter bliss.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily