routine

Everyday the boy wakes up, breathes, eats, breathes and lays his head back to sleep. Scattered between these five actions are other actions that differ from day to day, but when taken up as a whole are all the same group of actions on random repeat.

He realizes and a thirst for novelty awakens. "Truth is novel," he says. He yearns for the real, but searches for it on the abstract edges where searching is most exhilirating. With the searching begins rampant dreams. Some said outloud because sometimes when things are loud/big enough, we believe in it. Others said outloud as some form of a purging or cleansing process always followed by a long sigh, thick with doubt.

Dreaming and searching then become a part of the melting pot of actions that make life so routine for the young boy.

As a result, searching for truth ceases -- but it happens without the boy's knowing. Unaware, he keeps searching, but little does he know that he is only searching for novelty...and not truth.

Something new. Something beyond normal. Something different. I feel it all escapes us far too much.
At the same time, I think all of us wants routine, just not the routine we have now--it's either the wrong things or the wrong order.


note on the slight 'nonsensicalness' of this entry: Sometimes you write, and your writing transcends your thoughts and when you re-read it, it's not that it doesn't make sense...it's just that you don't fully understand it yet.