I approve of stream of consciousness writing and randomness.
I spent a day once with a guy who believed that Eli Whitney was the biggest contributor to America's weapons program, and he was secretly trying to take over the world. Very intelligent guy, I had the privilege of formally debating with him the next day on the evils of abortion, and he won, costing me my shot at nationals...
I remembered him today, and realized I never got his name, or even where he was from. I called him Mr. Eli Whitney, and he would answer.
My mind has been calling its own shots recently. I'm not sure what triggered this again.. its very similar to what happened about the same time last year. I noticed it start to happen about 3 weeks ago. Apoligies to anyone who I've hit up recently for help without asking ;-)
I went to the Society of Friends house last night for a Zen sitting as part of a class I'm taking. Mira and I spent an hour walking there in the cold/dark/nastiness, so we looked like refugees when we finally got there. A nice lady named Amy took us aside to dry off and taught us the particulars of their meditation. We ended up missing the first sitting, but sat for the second (25-minutes). On one hand, it seemed that the time lasted forever since, when I tried to discretize it, all I could think about was how many seconds (breaths) I had left; like I feel when I do distance swimming and count laps. As soon as I stopped counting, though, the time disappeared, and my thoughts were clear without being painful. Too clear, and I got lightheaded, but I held up much better than I thought I would.
After the sitting, there was a chant, and then a reading from Master Shin-Tsu (sp?). Afterwords, strangely enough, the meeting dissolved into people talking about how much they hated GWBush's government and war-mongering. I felt like the only person there who didn't think that anti-war activism conflicted with the tenets of Zen.
The sitting was in two rows facing each other. I was facing a scruffy guy who looked like he was in his late twenties. Not thin, wearing ripped dirty jeans and a wrinkled shirt.. he looked like a construction worker.
The meeting ended after 9, and it was a long way back.. He offered us a ride home.. but we turned him down because I thought he was creepy. I called Peter for a ride instead, since he was home from work and it wasn't particulary out of his way. ( and he owes me for letting him play dark cloud2 in here all the #@%! time.) Dave, the guy, decided that it wasn't morally ok for him to just leave 2 women standing on a street corner in Southern California, so he waited with us, saying he'd be all "manly like" and watch out for us. It was kinda cute. We started talking, and found out that he worked at Pomona, as a Prof. in fact. He got a little freaked when we told him we were both from Mudd. He said that everything he'd heard about Mudders said that we're scary math/science people.
He taught English. Said his last name was "Wallace".
The ends didn't click until I got home, noticed my copy of _Infinite Jest_ and figured out why he looked so familiar.
Ok, back to sleep. I could deal without this being amazingly tired when all of my friends are out and awake. :-/