Inspiration, according to dictionary.com is: Stimulation of the mind or emotions to a high level of feeling or activity.
Inspiration. Stimulation. Mental Masturbation. Sounds about right. I've been working a lot this week. Work has my mind tied up all the time this week. Even tonight. I've never been a big fan of this job I have. And like I've said before, I only work here because, well, they offered me the job when I really needed one. And I love the guys I work for and they've been very good to me. But eh, not really inspired to be in this job. But then again, who's really happy out there? For me though, I worry that the uninspired work is taking it's toll on the rest of my mind, my life, my heart. And that's what's inspiring me tonight. Funny. Confusing. Again, I think maybe.
Sometimes I think about the ocean. Not as like the beach or the sand or fish or shells. But more as just a seemingly endless, enormous organic entity. It's unreal to me, the ocean that is, it's vastness, its strength, it's never ending waves. The ocean is unfathomable to me. It's enormousness is undefinable in my mind. I cannot quantify it's size. I cannot come to terms with the amount of water, the depth, the width, the sheer volume of it all. And even though every wave is connected to every other wave, they don't really rely on each other and the waves of the shore off of Maine don't really influence the waves off the shore of the Atlantic side of Florida. But they are influenced by the same force. And that force, that power is unreal to me. I cannot describe that power, i cannot think of it in terms that justify it's awesomeness. The waves that hit the shores, even when the bay is glassy and calm, the waves have to be one of the most powerful forces in all of nature. The ocean is inspiring.
I've visited the Grand Canyon. It was a decade ago, and that week I had the flu. And although I felt rotten and disgusting from head to toe, the incredible sights that I saw from the tops of the cliffs over looking the Grand Canyon were unbelievable and vast. I looked out across this giant hole in the Earth, and to the other side...well, tried to see the other side. And even though I have 20/20 vision, my mind could not understand what I was seeing. It could not interpret the size and scope of the thing in front of me. I saw through the air, across that anti-mountainous region, until i couldn't see anymore. But there was still things out there, my mind just didn't have the experience, or the context to interpret what it was seeing. I couldn't relate to the sheer size of it. And I had the flu. The Grand Canyon was inspiring.
Both of my kids, obviously, have learned to walk, took their first steps, formed their first words. Hannah, after repeated efforts by me, one day just started riding her bike without training wheels, just kind of on her own. Hannah draws and paints. Sarah taught herself to swim underwater at three (i'll take some credit for that actually). Oreo went from a tiny little kitten to a big fat-ass cat. These things are inspiring to me. The grass grows, the flowers bloom then wilt. The birds sing and the bees buzz. These things inspire me. People write books and take adventures and build bridges and houses and sky scrapers. Those people are inspired. School teachers go and teach noisy, smelly little kids all day long, and cops drive around the worst places in the city. And firemen train all their days, for that next time that they get to run into a dangerous fire. And writers write books and painters paint and sculptors sculpt. These people are inspired, and inspire me. But my job, my profession, my vocation...sales...doesn't do a thing to inspire me. The ocean is inspiring. And the waves that hit the shores never will stop, never will go away, never will be silent. Ever. And i sell pencils and paper. I need a new job. I need something that inspires me. I need something that will light a fire under me. I need something that I look forward to, something that I'll enjoy. Maybe I need a preacher. Definitely I need a drink. One of my favorite Counting Crows songs is Raining in Baltimore. And they end the song with these lyrics:
I need a phone call Inspiration. Stimulation. Mental Masturbation. Sounds about right. I've been working a lot this week. Work has my mind tied up all the time this week. Even tonight. I've never been a big fan of this job I have. And like I've said before, I only work here because, well, they offered me the job when I really needed one. And I love the guys I work for and they've been very good to me. But eh, not really inspired to be in this job. But then again, who's really happy out there? For me though, I worry that the uninspired work is taking it's toll on the rest of my mind, my life, my heart. And that's what's inspiring me tonight. Funny. Confusing. Again, I think maybe.
Sometimes I think about the ocean. Not as like the beach or the sand or fish or shells. But more as just a seemingly endless, enormous organic entity. It's unreal to me, the ocean that is, it's vastness, its strength, it's never ending waves. The ocean is unfathomable to me. It's enormousness is undefinable in my mind. I cannot quantify it's size. I cannot come to terms with the amount of water, the depth, the width, the sheer volume of it all. And even though every wave is connected to every other wave, they don't really rely on each other and the waves of the shore off of Maine don't really influence the waves off the shore of the Atlantic side of Florida. But they are influenced by the same force. And that force, that power is unreal to me. I cannot describe that power, i cannot think of it in terms that justify it's awesomeness. The waves that hit the shores, even when the bay is glassy and calm, the waves have to be one of the most powerful forces in all of nature. The ocean is inspiring.
I've visited the Grand Canyon. It was a decade ago, and that week I had the flu. And although I felt rotten and disgusting from head to toe, the incredible sights that I saw from the tops of the cliffs over looking the Grand Canyon were unbelievable and vast. I looked out across this giant hole in the Earth, and to the other side...well, tried to see the other side. And even though I have 20/20 vision, my mind could not understand what I was seeing. It could not interpret the size and scope of the thing in front of me. I saw through the air, across that anti-mountainous region, until i couldn't see anymore. But there was still things out there, my mind just didn't have the experience, or the context to interpret what it was seeing. I couldn't relate to the sheer size of it. And I had the flu. The Grand Canyon was inspiring.
Both of my kids, obviously, have learned to walk, took their first steps, formed their first words. Hannah, after repeated efforts by me, one day just started riding her bike without training wheels, just kind of on her own. Hannah draws and paints. Sarah taught herself to swim underwater at three (i'll take some credit for that actually). Oreo went from a tiny little kitten to a big fat-ass cat. These things are inspiring to me. The grass grows, the flowers bloom then wilt. The birds sing and the bees buzz. These things inspire me. People write books and take adventures and build bridges and houses and sky scrapers. Those people are inspired. School teachers go and teach noisy, smelly little kids all day long, and cops drive around the worst places in the city. And firemen train all their days, for that next time that they get to run into a dangerous fire. And writers write books and painters paint and sculptors sculpt. These people are inspired, and inspire me. But my job, my profession, my vocation...sales...doesn't do a thing to inspire me. The ocean is inspiring. And the waves that hit the shores never will stop, never will go away, never will be silent. Ever. And i sell pencils and paper. I need a new job. I need something that inspires me. I need something that will light a fire under me. I need something that I look forward to, something that I'll enjoy. Maybe I need a preacher. Definitely I need a drink. One of my favorite Counting Crows songs is Raining in Baltimore. And they end the song with these lyrics:
Maybe I should buy a new car
I can always hear a freight train if I listen real hard
And I wish it was a small world
Because Im lonely for the big towns
Id like to hear a little guitar
I think its time to put the top down.
I think it's time to put the top down for sure.
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