Monday, July 13, 2009

When You Put Your iTunes On Random and It Plays The Cure Anyway

I know I wanted to blog, but I wasn't sure what about. So I did my nails (and am now attempting to not get polish on my board with each keystroke), and put iTunes on random to see what it pulled up. That should inspire me, right?

It should be noted that I have been listening to The Cure pretty obsessively lately and purposefully did not opt for that particular heavy rotation band this evening. It then makes sense that when I opened up the iTunes application and hit play "Pictures of You" started streaming out of my weakling Mac speakers and I just had to wryly smiled to myself. Yes, of course coincidence allowed this to occur. Too bad I don't buy into the idea of reason or coincidence for moments like this because at the end of the day the science of statistics (variable frequency of item A, when item A occurs in conjunction with variable items B through Z, etc) is my bread and butter. I trust data, I trust numbers and I trust patterns.

The contradiction I struggle with after asserting that if all that IS (as in exists), is mathematics where is the meaning? (Does it depend on the what the meaning of is, is? thank you Bill Clinton for putting that question into the ether so effectively.) I have been working on creating personal relevancy to my actions a lot lately (as well as trying to balance the risk of new-agey bullshit with the hope for purpose) and would not mind feelings stronger about any of it.

So I mentioned "God-Girl" in my last post, who really did drive me up the fucking wall. She was nutso. But this is where I hedge, because through her extreme example I saw what I would never have again. That delicious, unwavering, core-strength faith in why things are. Yeah, maybe you can't explain it all, but you believe in its reason by the virtue of your overall faith in god. I used to have this. I used to (in a palatable manner I hoped) witness my faith to others. I was the youth homily-giver on numerous occasion at my various churches as I grew up. I spent hours on my knees praying and willing what I very much wanted to be true into existence. For a small period of time I actually thought I was called. As in called to serve and go to seminary. As in me as a pastor. STOP LAUGHING. Actually, keep laughing, because it is more bearable that way.

It hit me part way through my weird willingness to read Kierkegaard for my own personal growth when I was 16 years old that what I was most attracted to was the study of it, the questions I would get to ask and explore, the teaching of my interpretation to others. And the talking. Having a captive and willing audience appealed to me much in the way that I adored acting and singing. Power and the esteem of others are heady fucking drugs. And I was good at it. I have the gift of gab and I would have used it not for faith (though I am sure I would have convinced myself of it much of the time), but for glory, and that would be a chimera if ever there was one.
So now I am on the other side of things. Doubting, quick to explain away based on the here and now, math, frustrated that I can't get that 'belief in more' feeling back. But then my favorite song by The Cure plays and it has meaning damn-it. Not as in, God Willed This Song To Play or some batshit crazy reasoning like that, but that I love that song and it resonates with me and perhaps that is all the meaning I should be after. If I have given it meaning through experience, then I need not look for more.

Jeezy-chreezy, fresh and breezy, this has been some heavy shit. I think a post about not wearing pants or --HOLY SHIT, now iTunes is throwing down with Jeff Buckley. OKAY YOU WIN UNIVERSE. I am just a woman (more on the girl/woman identification issue soon) trying to relax at the end of a long day, not some cosmic seer or some damn shit.

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