Scaly Fish Bodies

I was going to attempt to hold off and not embark on another blog until the close of my work week, assuming that I would be too weary to create anything.  Much to my pleasant surprise though, tonight, I was able to come home at a reasonable time, 930 pm to be exact. This provided me with the needed inspiration to attack my computer with some mediations. I have my comrade, Cristi, to thank for the extra personal time tonight.  Thank you my friend, for rescuing me from a night spent on the CTA.  

So I arrived home at a decent time, walking into my empty, dark condo, moving straight into the kitchen to grab a butcher knife and conduct a thorough inspection of the premises before settling in for the night.  After the inspection was concluded and my murderous suspicions quelled, I promptly undressed myself, removing my battle garments: hat, scarf, jacket, gloves, shoes.  Thereafter, I strip myself of my interior attire: slacks, button down shirt, tie and socks, leaving them on the floor, like bread crumbs, as I move slowly towards the dining room.  I lift my pack of cigarettes, as I’m seating myself, snatching one from the pack and simultaneously lipping and lighting the square.  I put it down delicately, to rest, on the pseudo ashtray, a small dish for soy sauce that I borrowed from a fine Sushi joint.  Quickly, I grip the opened bottle of merlot sitting in front of me, pouring the blood red liquid into a new glass, while relocating the cigarette back into my mouth.  It tastes good.  I toast myself on a day completed; silence validates my triumph.

I am tired, undoubtably.  Life is monotonous during the work week, for the most part, but I can not complain.  I am physically and mentally well and have the means to support myself comfortably.  Presently, there is little more I can ask for; I have been given all that one could ask for.  However, I do want and expect more of myself, but I know I have to earn it.  

I want to be a writer.  In the past year and a half I have explored my wish to determine whether or not my fascination with this art was a passing fancy or a predisposition.  I have concluded that my desires are true and have decided that I will stop at no lengths to satisfy my ambitions.  I have, for some time, struggled with the idea  that my university education has done little to nurture my disposition. Ultimately, I have come to terms with the fact that BA in International Business means almost nothing to me and will serve no purpose, in the future, but to act as a mutual friend between Wells Fargo and I.  It is of no matter though.  The experience was necessary in order to achieve my epiphany.  Therefore, I owe my time spent learning about inconsequential business practices to my realization of their impertinence in my future life.  Thank you Loyola for your service, but do not expect flattering endowment contributions from one Filip Kojic.

Anyways, I firmly do believe that every moment in our life, every decision we make, acts as a catalyst, for better or for worse, in the determination of the moment that follows.  Moments are not mutually exclusive and are all equally indispensable.  It is the responsibility of each individual to take ownership of their present reality and make decisions that are consistent with their desires, not falling victim to momentary illusions.  It would be egregious to say that human beings come into this world as finished products, capable of accurately deciphering situations and recognizing them as advantageous or disadvantageous.  It is through trial that we discover what it is we want and who it is we are.  It has taken me roughly twenty two years to recognize who I am and equip myself with the courage and audacity necessary to perceiver in a world disinterested in individual hopes and desires.  I have great faith that every person we have met, every place we have seen, everything we have done, has led us to the most important moment of our lives; that is the present moment.  Every second of our lives is an opportunity, a mysterious gift that grants us the liberty to choose.  Every passing moment is an opportunity to choose one’s state of mind, whether we are optimistic, cynical, empowered, discouraged, sedated or acute.  Our mind is the only thing that belongs to us as human beings, all else is or can be occupied by another.  We must be responsible for our only belonging and reign over it like kings.  Otherwise, we have nothing and are nothing.

The way I see it, we are all born into a river that spans our lifetime.  It is a strong direct current, a quick current leading you from your birth to your death.  Some float, some backstroke, some drown in this water.  It inevitably leads all of our scaly fish bodies to our demise at the end, a long waterfall into obscurity.  There is no exit from this fate.

I do believe that there exist smaller streams, much more placid, that flow near the river. They move through the surrounding terrain, through the forrest, amidst the flowers and the prairies. They all ultimately lead to the waterfall, but do not approach it with such great speed. They run lazily through the canyons and plains, teasing the earth below them with their languid current.

We have the choice to determine our route.

That is why I sit on my computer in these late hours, reading, learning, writing, yearning to find myself in this stream that I know I belong in.  It is not an easy decision, it takes great strength to find a branch, focus on it, reach out and pull yourself from the mighty current, placing yourself where it is you think you belong.  I choose to not float in this torrent and so I write.