Symphony of Dreams

I sat alone as the concertmaster struck the familiar note. The resonance that followed consumed the entire empty room, and the utter perfection in the tone took me by surprise. I gladly embraced the rich sound of the tuning symphony. Even this was music to my ears-- but what purpose was there in tuning such perfect unity of pitch? And what was that peculiar absence of that common courtesy which should accompany this man's bow? These minor queries were very soon discarded, and then forgotten completely as the simple harmonies separated. They multiplied beyond comprehension, cascading into an illustrious, soaring melody! It was as if I had always known-- but nevermind that. Uplifting this glorious tune was an unmatched arrangement of simple, elegant chords firing off between sections. With the utmost brilliance, the brass fanfare launched the masterpiece into the stunning free fall, the absolute silence, just before-- and what WAS that repulsive noise? It had ruined my perfect stillness, completely foreign to that stage, yet eerily familiar and impossibly more tangible...

My vision flickers in the vaguely sunlit room. I sit alone: my only comfort afforded by the disconcerting demand emanating from my most alarming possession.

Returning Home

     There is something refreshing about returning home after an absence of any length. The initial sensation of pure familiarity slips stealthily into the realm of my conscious thought. My mood undergoes a rapid change from unhappy exhaustion to blissful wonderment at the simplicity of recognizable surroundings. Suddenly, my mind is no longer troubled by the constant input of new information.
     Funny aspects of everyday life can be greatly appreciated after returning home, such as the familiar width and steepness of stairs or even the sound of the washing machine in my own house. I am amazed at how such a subtle change differentiates between a house and a home and how these subtleties vary from person to person. One particularly amusing variance, at least in my mind, is the ease of achieving a "normal" temperature from the faucet in the shower. Silly details such as this can make a slight but very noticeable distinction between that which is tolerable and that which is truly comfortable.
     As you go about your day, think of several characteristics of your home and family that set them apart from other places and persons. Rather than ignoring the features that distinguish you from others, be thankful for the idiosyncrasies that shape your personality every day.

Bored? Me too...

     Boredom. A single, solitary word. Seven ordinary letters. This word seems simple, yet its two familiar syllables manage to capture a most convoluted paradox. Although the Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines boredom as "the state of being weary or restless through lack of interest," the feelings and experiences actually associated with boredom are much more complex than this definition would suggest. The following covers my thoughts on the conceptual reality of boredom
     Boredom cannot be defined as a lack of interest because that merely induces rest and laziness. By definition, the word "restless" indicates a person must have an interest in something. This means that boredom originates from the consciously subconscious realization that nothing available can satisfy one's interests. When a person acknowledges boredom, he/she is subconsciously accepting indeterminable interests.
     I speculate that the weariness attributed to boredom actually comes from a restless mind. As boredom progresses, your mind constantly searches for something interesting, but to no avail. In an effort to escape this wearying task, your mind attempts to distract itself and grasps the nearest available activity, such as watching a movie or listening to music. These activities usually involve no strain on the brain, and these minor distractions often cause the person to be distracted, and then restless, once again.
     Thus, the entire concept of boredom involves restlessness, weariness, and distractedness in endless, abrasive cycles. An unsatisfied mind is of the worst sort, and the only cure I have found is a good, long nap.