Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.


Life's More Exciting Inside My Head

Sometimes more anxiety-laden, unfortunately, or some other negative obsession that hyperbolizes everything; but, on good days, life inside my head is much more epic.

I knew as soon as I saw this I'd have to steal it.  A friend who knows me and who reads this blog brought it to my attention.  In response, most explicitly, to previous posts like this one:

Two status updates from Facebook today, random thoughts as they struck me. The first was after mentally reading the title of a book as I walked by and realizing it happens automatically regardless of context:

. . . is incapable of thinking or saying [small caps]doom[/small caps], because it always turns into [deep, resounding voice]DOOOMMMM!!![/deep, resounding voice]

(Kinda the way "Crom" can only be said in Conan-voice.)

The second was after I caught myself doing it, in the locker room at the gym, of all places:

. . . sometimes catches himself unconsciously providing sound effects for life.

Only upon reflection did I think there was perhaps a connection to each other and to a post from last winter, which reads in part:

I try not to think that I'm going out to exercise so much as I'm going adventuring and exploring. I may not make up characters and stories the way Calvin does, but I have that idea in the back of my mind. Which explains why I have a tendency to be overly ambitious, because if things get tough and hurt, well, that's just the lot of an epic hero. And I think it also explains why despite it all I'm not a particularly impressive physical specimen; I've never developed the discipline to make myself work out consistently because my motivation depends on my ability to make it fun.

I wonder if perhaps the world must be much more animated, dramatic, and exciting as perceived in my head than in actuality. From a couple of posts ago:

b. If your essence could be captured as a cologne or perfume, what would it be called?

(Embracing reality’s subjectiveness and giving it your own happy spin)


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