Johnathan Croom · Life—only real when shared.

Bowls

Today we’re going to talk about bowls. You know, bowls. Those hollow half-circle things that hold stuff like spaghetti and pickles. They can hold anything really. Lemons, ice cream, water, squirrel carcass, and essentially everything imaginable.

Bowls are pretty great! They’re superior to plates in the sense that they don’t spill when the height of the contents gets.. well high.

There’s one bowl that’s extra special though. Toilet bowls. Who doesn’t love a good toilet bowl. It holds water (and doodoo), and can swish around in a circle! How cool is that. If you’ve never seen a toilet bowl flush, YouTube is the place to be. Or, if you’re more adventurous, you could possibly just find a restroom and have a go at it yourself.

I’m glad I got to share my new discovery with you guys: bowls. If you don’t have a few, I recommend them highly. Until next time, friends.

Sleep

So put pretty simply, I’ve seriously wrecked my sleeping habits more than a few times in my life. There’s long periods where I can remember waking up at 2-4 in the afternoon, and shorter periods I can remember happily waking up at 5 in the morning. Having experienced both extremes, and everything in between, I have come to prefer waking up early. That’s not to say I actually do it.

My sleep is all out of whack again, for a lot of reasons, but mainly just consequence of small wrong decisions (and the lack of determination to fix it). So, starting today, I’m going to try and move my wake-up time to about 5-6am. Today, I got up at 5am, and have since cooked a nice wholesome breakfast.

So why early? Well mainly two reasons. Firstly, I feel so much happier and refreshed when I don’t sleep for 12 freaking hours, and that’s easy to do when you wake up at noon. Also, I enjoy the early hours of the day much more than the nighttime. Both are fabulously deserted, but the morning brings along energy and hope for the day instead of tiredness and darkness. I happen to know from experience that I can get a lot more done in the morning than at night, too.

So that’s all there is to it. I spent yesterday preparing, and I got up this morning naturally (no alarm). This is day one of many. I have radically changed my sleeping habits before, and I am confident that I can do it again.

Stuff

1992 Toyota Celica being towed

Nothing matters but people. Everything else is just stuff. Movies, school, cars, food, the weather, trees, it’s all just stuff. None of it matters. All that matters is raw, true emotion. The kind of emotion that comes from a deep meditation of the mind. The kind of emotion that happens when you’re doing what you love, in my case, singing.

Everything is just a huge pile of distracting bullshit. Everything distracts you from living life for real. We’re all, myself included, too worried about being offended and not worried enough about enjoying life. Who cares if it’s too cold for comfort. Who cares if you don’t have a dinner table. Who cares if you don’t have time to eat in the morning. Who cares if you have a headache. None of that stuff matters. You’re not going to remember any of that when you look back.

I’m sick of everything being so goddamn perfect. I want some imperfection! I want mistakes and troubles and struggle. I want to remember having to overcome huge battles instead of remembering that I didn’t eat toast this morning.

All I want is to feel alive. I want to be excited.

Wonderful Wednesday

I don’t know that I have a lot to say, but I wanted to let myself know that I still exist. That is, because I write these for myself. If you are, in fact, not Johnathan, then let me say HELLO! Uh oh, did I scare you? That was not my intention. I merely wanted to also recognize your existence, and thank you for visiting my records of life.

If these are going to be the records of my life, I might as well record something. Okay here goes some thoughts.

I feel like I’m not the same exciting, energetic person I once was. That somewhere along my path I’ve lost the excitement and enthusiasm that I brought into everything that I did, whether I liked it or not. I did not realize until recently how much of an impact I made on the people in my past, that by barging into my history class every Wednesday and declaring it was a wonderful Wednesday I, somehow, improved lives.

So as always, I’d like to work on it. Maybe try and figure out what happened and why I’m such a grumpy cat nowadays. So to a happier, more goofy Johnny.

Something That Matters

I want to be doing something that matters. Something that’s changing lives. Something that’s improving the world. Something that I can love to do and be passionate about. Something that gives the days meaning.

Endless Life in a Mortal Dream

Endless Life in a Mortal Dream. I wrote that. I’m not sure what it means, but it came out very naturally without thought or revision, so I will procede to overanalyze it to draw some sort of positive conclusion.

Endless life is simple enough, the idea of immortality, or living forever. But living forever, in a mortal dream? What is a mortal dream? (I’m currently researching via the Internet). It turns out that Empty Your Heart of its Mortal Dream is the title of a Scottish album. Curious. So now I’m listening to strange Scottish music and pondering my random sentence.

This seems interesting, but I don’t have a clue what it is talking about. I kind of dig this Scottish album though.

The notion of a mortal dream seems to be present in this poem by William Butler Yeats:

The Host­ing of the Sidhe

The host is rid­ing from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;
Caoilte toss­ing his burn­ing hair,
And Niamh call­ing “Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mor­tal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heav­ing, our eyes are agleam,
Our arms are wav­ing, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rush­ing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.“
The host is rush­ing ‘twixt night and day,
Caoilte toss­ing his burn­ing hair,
And Niamh call­ing “Away, come away.”

Unfortunately I’m terrible with understanding poems, just as the rest of the population is likely terrible at deciphering my own poems. I’ve literally no idea what this is talking about.

And I’m stumbling onto some rather interesting stuff (from the website with the poem).

Don’t write for any­one but your­self. Don’t write for any­thing but what you feel. Write for the under­stand­ing, the dis­cov­ery, the plea­sure. It will be worth the time and effort. Why? Because you will know some­thing more, and what you know more will help you in life.

So I read a little of this, and don’t understand what I’m reading either. If anybody wants to fill me in on what I meant when I said “Endless Life in a Mortal Dream,” that would be great, otherwise, I’m done searching for now.

I was supposed to draw some sort of conclusion and here is what I concluded: Sometimes things don’t make a lot of sense.

Goals & Passion

I want to have goals! I want to be passionate!

I feel like I’m running around in circles in the middle of a forest, whatever that means. I’ve got no ambitions or passions, no goals, nothing to accomplish, nothing I’m trying to do. It’s ridiculous. It’s boring. I hate it.

What is it going to take for me to find something that I want to do, something that I want to pursue, something that I want to accomplish? I need to live. I feel like I am alive, but I’m not living.

And a poem:

Little blue telephone pole
Pineapples manufactured by Dole
Endless life in a mortal dream
Caterpillars and lima beans
Alice has a lazy eye
Sometimes people want to die

And another for the sake of seeming serious:

I am alive but oh so dead
Days are lived inside my head
There’s not a thing I love to do
Not a thing, except write to you
I hope to create a change
To make this life a lot less lame
I’ll tell you of my travels
And just hope that they’ll unravel

Seriousness

Here we go. Going to keep this short but this is just popping up in the noggin right now.

I wish that we didn’t take anything serious. I feel like I do a pretty good job at being completely unserious about everything, but I could still improve. I wish that I was always the crazy John that I am when I’m alone.

Anyway, your car payment, messed up restaurant order, happiness, lack of transportation, college bills, the internet, clothes, muffins, NONE OF IT MATTERS. It just doesn’t! I say we could all care a little less about everything in our life and start caring a little more about each other. I’m going for it. I’m going to be happy about what I have and stop caring about anything that’s not a human being or some form of life. Booyah.

Directional Gas Pumps

Wow. So far today I’m feeling a little stupid. For ages now, I’ve been pulling into a gas station, immediately finding a spot, and then pumping gas, only to find that I have to step over the big tube to get back to the driver’s seat.

What I realized today is this. If you’re right-handed (or plan on grabbing the nozzle with your right hand), you need to park…..

Okay nevermind. This actually makes no sense whatsoever and I just realized that my realization isn’t actually real. Okay then, move along.

My search to pump gas without stepping over the tube continues.

Satisfaction

I realized something that I think is pretty groundbreaking tonight. Everyone wants what they don’t have.

For example, people with careless parents want ones who care, and people with parents who care want ones who don’t care so much.

It’s curious to think about. It really makes me wonder if I would be happier if I was more grateful for everything and satisfied with how things are, even if they aren’t all that great. It makes me wonder if things would actually improve if I was satisfied and grateful.

So with that being said, the only way I can know is to try. I am going to try and be more observant to everything and instead of complaining or disliking something, be grateful and satisfied with how things are. I will keep you updated with how that goes.

Johnathan Croom · Life—only real when shared.