Remembering

Remembering that I have a blog.
Remembering that nobody reads my blog, in effect enabling me to say anything I want without fear of repercussion.
Remembering all of my hopes.
Remembering all of my fears.
Remembering that I am forced to face those fears with unfortunate regularity.
Remembering that I can sleep 18 hours in a day and still be exhausted.
Remembering everything that has ever made me cry.
Remembering things that make me cry in retrospect.
Remembering people from the past who I now assume are dead.
Remembering to unplug myself from this reality so that I can lace my thoughts with some objectivity.
Remembering that I am mortal.
Remembering that I am glad that I am mortal.
Remembering that I wish I weren't mortal.
Remembering those times I tried to fly.
Remembering the time I succeeded.
Remembering more vibrantly the times I didn't.
Remembering the lessons I was supposed to learn.
Remembering the pills I was supposed to take.
Remembering the lives I've lived.
Remembering the facts I've embellished.
Remembering the memories I never had.
Remembering that I convinced myself of their truth.
Remembering that I can't rely on my memory for objective fact.
Remembering that I can be really harsh.
Remembering that I know better.
Remembering that I have life by the tail.
Remembering nothing.
Remembering.

(none)

I wish I had something interesting to tell the world, but I'm at a loss for words.

Continue

Slogging through another day at work by taking a break to do some blogging. I find the work to be rather tedious, with its 40 hour weeks and early mornings. But those are things that I was bound to become accustomed to at some point in life. Most of my friends don't have jobs this summer. The ones who do are for the most part working a maximum of 20 hours per week and in a more social setting than my job, in a lonely laboratory with 3 others much older than myself. This is not to say that I have a lot to complain about. The work is overall intellectually stimulating and the pay is decent. I've just realized that this realm of applied science is not where I want to spend my career, at least not at the bottom of the pecking order as an intern. I want to experience college and leave my small town, which has never held any kind of future for me. It's only 41 days until I leave, but it seems like and eternity right now. I need to go to college for my own enjoyment and to put myself in a situation to be wherever I want to be. Until then, I'll continue the slog.

Monday

Working Mondays is always a chore after an adventure-filled Sunday. Traveling 63 miles by bike with a lowest elevation of 2000 ft and a highest elevation of 5500 ft this Sunday taxed my body quite a bit, but apparently not enough to allow me to sleep through the night. I slept, sure, on and off for 8.5 hours, although the process was quite disturbed and overall unsatisfying. I woke up at 7:15 for my 7:30 start at work, dreading the tiresome day that lay ahead. So goes the Monday.

On Blogging

Why do people blog? I'm sure that many begin blogging with hopes of being widely read, challenging the established order, or building their resume for a career in journalism. I have no such hopes. I come to you this summer out of complete boredom, in a (very) small town, in between high school (I went to a boarding/magnet school) and college (I have matriculated at a prestigious university neighboring Palo Alto, CA), looking for nothing but something to pass the time until September. Perhaps it is even presumptuous of me to address this to "you," as though somebody in this wide world would be interested in reading the thoughts of an 18 year old whose favorite part of life is mathematics. Yes, I may not even attract one reader to this blog, but that's just fine. Not that I will post just anything here. I am in the first generation of adults who went through high school with blogs, and I know that the minute one posts something too personal on the Internet, the next moment, the wrong person will stumble upon it. So I have no grandiose vision for this blog, and neither can I make it too personal. So I am stuck with being my outwardly vague self, only able to let on as much as I want anybody to read.

So what about me? There is a certain elegance in logic that attracts me to study it abstractly. There is something about cycling instead of driving a car that seems humanitarian to me. And there is something about music that reaches me emotionally stronger than anything else. And that's what I'll let you know for now, the reader I presume to be there.