10.18.2006

Inspiration

Have you ever met someone that was completely and utterly passionate about a subject? I didn't think I had until I thought about it recently. It all started with my AP United States History teacher Mr. Shea. He's a quirky old man who makes absurd jokes; did I mention he had 11 fiancees? No? Well, he did. He also likes to make certain comments about him still teaching history as an old wrinkled man. He used to be a journalist, and he indulges in dashes, in fact, I can be almost absolutely positive he has a rabid obsession with them. He hates Harry Potter and loves making sarcastic impressions of historical figures. Now that you have obtained a somewhat...complete picture of him, let me tell you the other part that seems impossible to fit with the image of a cynical old geezer like him.

He is amazing and absolutely astounding in his passion for history. His lectures seem to evoke some sort of emotion from you when he speaks. The lecture is never boring. How is that possible? It's history for God's sake and anyone and everyone who knows me knows I abhor the subject. But when Mr. Shea is talking, it feels as if I'm dynamically a part of history. He makes the subject exciting, and such enthusiasm can only be produced if one is utterly passionate about it. There's something to the character of his voice or something that just makes you love history. As if you're under a wizard's spell. His descriptions allude to something hypnotical. It is quite amazing. But as soon as you leave the classroom, it seems as though you forget what had first entranced you in the first place. It is an astounding phenomena that is impossible to grasp. Yet there's something in your soul that stirs when you realize this is an experience, and you should learn to grasp it with your whole heart in order to replicate the same elation you feel when he works his magic.

9.05.2006

New Dew

Well, I do believe this shall become a serious blog. Whenever inspiration strikes. Or passion. Either way. I want this to become a bit of serious thought and serious writing. My slice of an imaginary office cubicle, I suppose one could call it. My slice of heaven. My private metaphorical edifice where I can escape from all the judgements that comes with the grandeur of companionship.

This has already become an honest place. A wonderous sky unbound by limits. Unsevered by all opinion but my own. I believe I have become quite attached to it, as if it is a new pup or kitten that I have cuddled with and cannot possess myself to let go of. I can, at last, post quotes, obsessions, thoughts, rants, and rambles without friends believing I have become a fickle person. People are fickle. We cannot always be inspirational people. That idea is merely a slither of a dream. Intangible. And humans should not try to reach it.