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Old Before Young

April 23, 2012

January 12th, 2012 9:17pm

Sometimes, I forget that I am still only nineteen – 19. Well, actually, most of the time, I forget that I am still only nineteen. Wow, 19 – nineteen! 19 only. Only 19.

You see, I have thoughts – well of course, all of us do. But I’m not just talking about ordinary thoughts, I’m talking about the kind of thoughts I have when I am walking home alone. I am talking about the kinds of thoughts I have when I am at the local coffee shop. These thoughts – I imagine them to be these particulars, these things floating in front of me. I like to watch them spin in concentric circles, spinning around my head. I spin this way and that, do the 360 and come back to where I am now. What do I find? I find that I am dizzy, dizzy from all of that spinning.

Are you still following?

These thoughts do not belong to any average nineteen-year-old. No, they usually belong to some ninety-year-old. I’d imagine these thoughts would belong to someone like Hagar Shipley of The Stone Angel, written by the Canadian author, Margaret Laurence.

Why am I talking about all of this?

Lately, I have noticed that I’ve been doing too much thinking. There were a couple of days after Christmas, these days of which I spent thinking… thinking in a chair. Just me, a chair, and my thoughts. I drove myself crazy during those days. I forced myself to stop thinking. Every time I felt an irresolvable thought coming on, I pushed it to far far away land. I internalized it, I buried it deep down. This, I tend to do too often. But this strategy worked, well at least for a couple of days. Eventually, I lapsed back into my cycle, and perhaps that is where I am now – in the middle of the cycle.

I am a philosopher in my own right. I am a philosopher in my own way. One of my philosophy professors said to my class the other day, that as philosophers, we are all critics. And as philosophers, our task is to doubt, to reject, and to call into question all that we know or think that we know. I realize now that this is all that I do all day, every day. Is that good or bad? I do not even know.

I feel as though none of this makes any sense. I feel as though there is no logical connection from one thought to another.

Is this blog post making any sense to anyone out there?

After my last lecture today, I went to Black’s to pick up my developed photos. I took them out and looked them over. When I came across some photos of myself, I had to stop for a minute to look a little bit closer. Why? Because I was amazed at how young I looked in those photos. Strange, because some of those photos were taken no more than three weeks ago. Had I changed drastically since then? Surely not. No, I am that girl. But this seems impossible, for when I think of myself, I imagine an old lady. When I look at myself in the mirror, I do not think of a nineteen-year-old. Instead, I think of a lady, one who is so serious. No – one who has become so serious. I do not think of the nature of nineteen-ness.

My aunt told my mother about two weeks ago that I am missing out on my great years, missing out on “my youth”. I feel that way now and more so than ever before. I feel cheated – I suddenly feel the unfairness of life. I wish that I didn’t have to rationalize everything. I am tired! I am tired from all of this rationalizing because it always seems as though I never get anywhere with it. I rationalize and rationalize. I draw diagrams, pictures, things I call “Brain Maps”. Sticks come out here and there, lines connect ideas, words string together thoughts. But this never gets me anywhere. Mostly, it leaves me even more confused than before.

What am I left with? Just diagrams, pictures, things I call “Brain Maps”. Sticks that come out here and there, lines that connect ideas, words that string together thoughts. These are what I am left with.

But I guess this is both the virtue and vice of a philosopher – we think too much. We have become old before we were even young.

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