Late is the Hour of the Night

And if I must be up this late, why am I not studying? Why am I writing a blog no one will read? Why am I not playing Soul Calibur or Tekken or even Starcraft. Why am I not writing new music or practicing my scales or reading my Bible or learning the meaning of life. Instead of these things (and countless other possible activities), I am introspecting, a word I just made up specifically for this occasion. I just turned 33 a few days ago, and I've been thinking. I remember when I was 27, 23, 19, 15, 9. Things have changed so much for me. I've been thinking about where I've been and where I am and where I need to be, and how I need to get there and how to be patient in the meantime. I've been thinking about some of the horrible things I've done in the past, the lies I have told, the things I have stolen, the hearts I have shattered. I've been thinking about the good things I've done, like consoling the weak and weary, helping people with flat tires and bad luck and impossible deadlines and weird conundrums. I've been thinking about everything I am learning about this quarter. I've been thinking that I really do enjoy teaching. I have been thinking about roles and socialization and the impact of gender and race and nationality on my life and outlook. I've been thinking about the suffering of the world. In my Humanities class I have been thinking that we have been going around and round on these issues forever, and no progress is being made. I have been thinking about Karl Marx and Voltaire and Jonathan Swift and Charles Dickens and Walt Whitman and Richard Wagner and Ludwig von Beethoven and Frans Liszt. I've been thinking about Capablanca and Alekhine and Morphy and Lasker. I have fancied myself a romantic, but then thinking, no, you're more of a Neo-Classical kind of fellow, always searching for the aesthetic and philosophical ideal. I think that I think too much sometimes. I think, ergo, I am. And if I am, I must... do what? The first thing to come to my mind is "Dominate" but it that really me thinking? Or is that the resultant of the photons of my soul being bombarded by the myriad forces in my proximity. Must ... must know, must do, must do well and do right. Must make a difference. And if making a difference means that millions may die so that billions might live in right relationship to our Creator... what was that? Where did that thought come from? Late is the hour of the night, and I must continue my thinking in the reality fugue of sleep.