Shallow thoughts from the depth of the mind........

So definitely not feeling my usual deep and complicated amount of thought. My personal woes are weighing me down, and the worst of them are avoidable so it bothers me more than it should. If anyone ever reads this, and happens to feel let down by the short meaningless post, my apologies. So concludes another story from the Time Traveler. Next up, Pigs In SPACE!!!!!!!!!!

Solitude.....

If words have power, then this word is the single most powerful ever created. It can evoke any of a number of emotions, from blind terror to quiet bliss. It creates images of warm baths, padded cells, dank tombs, and a nameless lightless abyss. How is it that this is possible? Solitude can be viewed as those quiet moments when our fast paced lives finally allow us a break, so we can enjoy the peace and tranquility. It can also be that darker place, where endless moment bleed into endless hours and meld into eternity. It is dark, dank, claustrophibically terrifying, leaving the sturdiest of souls mewling like tortured kittens. But in this day and age, where technology links every able body on the planet together, how can solitude exist? The reality is that as our technology advances, we thrust ourselves deeper and deeper into solitude. Worse still, nothing can stop it. We as a species will do everything in our power to be connected to the whole world, and in doing so we will never be more seperated. We will achieve perfect solitude.

The strangest thing about solitude is that it knows no bounds. Heroes and villains share one constant: Solitude. The hero inevitably has to face the final show down with no one but himself on his side, his friends and allies having fled or been killed. And as the villain faces the hero, his minions have all been killed or run off, leaving him with no one left to hide behind. Whichever side they are on, solitude is their fate. They take up their swords, guns. phasers, etc. and embark on a mission to give their solitude meaning. Even religion exists to keep us from aknowledging the fact that death is the final solitude. I believe in a here after, not in an inherently christian sense, but I believe in one.

But no matter what the end of my existence might bring, I know that one thing will remain the same from now until my final breath and beyond. I will be alone.

White Horse, Will Travel........

So as I drove into work today, I realized somethings about myself and fairytales. I love to think of myself as the hero, shining armor, snow white charger snorting as I rush head-long into danger, killing dragons, trolls, ogres, giants, and any other beast in my way as I rescue the damsel in distress. And what woman doesn't openly or secretly crave for Prince Charming to come in and save the day? And all of the stories always end in,"And they lived happily ever after....." But what happens after those dots? I figured it out. Sadly, the reason "Prince Charming" is the universal hero is because he never stays with his princess. Once the monster is slain and the princess is safe, he takes her home and makes sure she is comfy, maybe steals a kiss or a little more, but he always rides off looking for the next pretty face surrounded by insurmountable danger. And thats where I find myself. Riding around the countryside, looking for the next sacrificial alter, abandoned keep, what have you. One of these days my horse will grow tired, my armor stained and heavy and I'll finally stay at home.

But I'm curious: is it the pretty new faces, exotic new lands, or impossible odds that drag me back out into the dark? My soul burns for adventure, and I find more and more it is actually the monsters that entice me more than the princesses. And what becomes of me when I run out of monsters? Do I create new ones, charging recklessly at windmills like Don Quixote? Or will I be fortunate enough to either meet my end at the claws and fangs I seek out tirelessly? Better yet, will I one day realize that I can save the damsel and actually stay put? Teach my heirs to pursue the dangers and rewards of adventuring, and spend my twilight years comfortable and happy. This brings me back to my last post, rolling my tankard in my weathered twisted hands, my grey beard twitching in the night air as i stare, teary eyed into the flames before me, remembering times gone by.

My only hope is that no matter what, I leave a lasting impression behind me, worthy of the bards for eons to come.

The voyage begins......

Just beggining to realize that I may in fact have been born in the wrong time period. As I sat in my car driving two friends home, I realized that I belong in front of a camp fire, in the center of some medieval village, my face and hands grizzled and scarred, telling children of the horrors real and supernatural I've faced, my adventures regalling old and young alike. Unfortunately I was born a few centuries late and like everything else I just have to deal.

I guess thats the real focus of this whole thing: having to deal. Everyday I find things to remind me that I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. However, the bed I've made is neither warm nor comfortable, and I know I could do better. So how do you deal when you realize that the choices you made were stupid, and choices you keep making are stupid, and you hate where you've ended up? All I want is to rest my weary bones in front of that nice big fire, drink deep from my tankard and roll it in my gnarled hands, watching the children ushered home by their parents, leaving grissled old dogs like myself to sit watching the embers, remembering times gone by.