June 16, 2005

What one decides at Wal-Mart

1.) I have a sunburn.
2.) Fish are not human.
3.) Rain is depressing or refreshing, depending on whether you are inside wishing you were in it, or whether you are in it.
4.) Fishbowls are cages made out of glass.
5.) Lives are fishbowls made out of money.
6.) If you write it for them, they won't read it; if you write it for you, it doesn't matter.
7.) "It doesn't matter": those are poor words to end on.
8.) I smell like a fish. My life smells like a fishbowl.
10.) Which needs to be cleaned.
12.)

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I may not have enough money to go back to college next year. That's something to be praying about. I'm ambivalent. Which I always thought meant "good," until I realized it meant "the state of being ambiguous," and now I'm not sure what it means when I say I am ambiguous. I will be happy if I go back to college next year. I will be happy if I don't. This circumstance, though one of the largest in my life, holds no sway over my apathy.

I feel I'm in a fishbowl, not because everyone can see me, but because I can see everyone, and no one notices me. I can see my own reflection wherever I swim, and I can't swim far at that. No matter how much speed I gather, the glass is unrelenting; I am trapped here. Now I sit and stare at myself, wondering what it could be like. How are the fish faring in the river? And those goldfish who live... where do real goldfish live? My life is a farce and I stare at my cage, at me, and like Narcissus, I will die in this water. If I could blink you would see a human expression of boredom; since I cannot, imagine a goldfish in a fishbowl and you will see me, in my life.

5 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  2. Today I wondered how someone with such far-reaching impact on the world around him could feel so inconsequential. Leaving the rest of us to ponder our own doom -- after all if he feels trapped in a fishbowl, what could be our fate? Since when has higher education of the sort that Spokane offers been expected to hold such potential sway over you? You're happy either way? Good! Then you won't be disappointed with what God chooses for you.

    I think, perhaps, it is more a situation of a fish who imagines himself to be trapped in a fishbowl because he swam into the one that Fisherman Fred so carelessly dropped into the sea. Because fish have such short memory (I'm told about 4 seconds, but I think that's rubbish) the fish forgot himself, where he came from, and where he was going.

    We are all dreamers. You perhaps more then most. I think that's wonderful. But must dreaming always require that we look so far past today? Hope for tomorrow, but hope for today as well. You touch so many people, Galen. Your impact is so great that it is a shame if you really do not notice.

    Real goldfish live in ponds. You will visit India, brother. You will breathe in the healthful air in the South of England. You will feel the sand between your toes on your own island in the Phillipines -- I promise you. Let all of that come when it comes. Don't give up on it. Don't resign yourself. Live. Isn't that what you're best at? Just live.

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  3. Your phrase "I wonder how the fish are faring" led my mind on a circuitous journey that ended somewhere in the neighborhood of, "what if fish really had a fair?" I pondered if for fish the scariest ride was not an aquatic rollercoaster of sorts but rather a ferris wheel that emerges just about the surface of the water. And the young fish cut school (get it, fish, school . . . I'm going to prison for that pun) to attend the fair and risk the lives on this ferris wheel, not knowing if the ride will start up again and resubmerge them by the time that their little gills have almost completely dried out.

    But the real question is: what would fish take home in a little plastic bag from winning the carnival games at the fair? Certainly not goldfish . . .

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  4. Thank you both. You've made me tear up a bit; and laugh. I do appreciate your good will towards me, and your honest encouragement. I feel better knowing this fish swims in a school. If it didn't, who would tell it that every fishbowl has an exit. Perhaps I'm only a fish stuck on top of a Ferris Wheel, gasping for air. I'm confident our friendly operator at the bottom will get me wet again before I bite it.

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  5. I was impressed by your post. The comments only made it richer. The post came alive. I'm glad you're a part of the school, Galen.

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