For the longest time, I would scoff at people with blogs.

“What a desperate way to try to keep pace with the waves of change, and to appear abreast of the 21st century.”

I saw myself as someone fairly tech-minded (I built my computer, “Wolfwood,” out of various thoroughly researched components when I was in 9th grade), and ended up basing some of my identity on being above the currents of others. Well… I see things differently now.

As I walked into my room tonight, I stumbled across my roommate, Shane, in conversation with our Kitchen Manager, Dean, on the subject of “the world.” What began as quiet observation turned into a fairly vigorous exchange of optimisms about the future, in which we swapped visions of equitable societies and perpetual sustenance. I came away feeling invigorated, with the dust of cynicism somewhat wiped away. I remembered again that I like having something to say.

Normally I enjoy listening to conversations, but I generally withhold my opinion. I tell myself that this is because I value other people’s opinions and that I feel the best way to encourage people to share their deeper thoughts is to not immediately criticize or challenge their views. In a large part, that’s true. But to an extent, whether I care to admit to myself or not, I’m worried that my ideas will be stupid. Or uninformed, or unrealistic, or inappropriate. So I withhold them, protecting them from the elements, keeping them out of harms way. My ideas are my babies, after all. But ideas need to be given fields to play in. You can’t keep them forever. I’ve spent enough years in contemplation, jotting notes and images down into notebooks that no one would ever see.

If I truly want to engage in the arena of life (pardon the combat metaphor), I should recognize that just as a journey is made up of thousands of steps, a life is made up of thousands of quanta of effort.

It’s time to at least attempt, try to distill and bottle the substance of my thoughts. Perhaps it will be a bitter vintage. But that is not for me to know.