Putting an end to a long day of work, practice and more work, I write this, considering the wordings, mulling over every comma and, more so, every full stop. I feel like I haven’t written a single word in at least a year, but that is sheer delusion. It has been only slightly more than two months since I worked on what I considered to be among the most important things in my life. It is surprising, then, to see how little it has done to my mood, to my feeling of it all, to my opinion about school in general. My final exams were not particularly difficult, but considering that I only needed to get that official document – the art academy was, after all, nailed –, maybe my high regards for it had dropped a fair bit. The many words I wrote for Dutch, History and I don’t know what more, they feel ancient; as from a past I’m barely connected to, yet it’s only been slightly more than two months.
So rumour has it that I’m moving out pretty soon, and rumour has it right. It shall be the first time I will live in a city, yet it feels like barely a tiniest of shifts in my daily life. There are many clear problems that I haven’t yet figured out the solution to, and of course I will when it’s due, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I would ask for tips, but I don’t have a clue what could possibly be said in words that I cannot figure out by doing. This might become the forte of my upcoming education, hard work and long days of that, proper labour and enforced insight, consideration second to execution. This is what education should be about – aside from maybe the long days, if we’re talking compulsory education and children – and I think that’s where it’s headed for many people. There is something, at least to me, extremely gratifying about working hard, receiving sensible feedback and making it even better than it was. Day in day out. Piece by piece. Not only will you slowly build up a layer of checking yourself, you will actually know what is considered effective and what isn’t. Some say it’s institutionalisation, I say it gives you both sides of the razor-sharp sword of opinion: just decide what you choose in the end. If it works, it works, and that’s more important than anything.
Taking a two-hour break from work might sound like a long time to most people, until they realise that, yeah, it’s half past twelve right now. Between the buzzing of the mosquitoes I will tend to soon and the kind voices of Erlend and Eirik, I’m still considering wordings, commas, full stops. I’m still considering systems, bad dreams, even purpose.
That’s scary, huh. I’m convinced a fair selection of my readers (which, these days, means about two people) know of philosophy, maybe even my own philosophies, and they will realise that “purpose” is not something I talk about a lot as something that directly affects my on-goings. None of the fatalist causality concepts that might pop up in your brain, friends. I’m talking usefulness. Stuff that is supposed to make sense once you get to the core of it. I wish I could put it more directly, but alas, that is not my strength in writing. Bear with me and my tangents. One day, I’ll make it all look good and work out fine. One day.