And so the Muse strikes, late at night.

You raise your voice. You tell me you don't approve of my life choice. You tell me you think it would have been a better idea not to do this. Too late, I made my choice. For once I stood on my own, and I picked what I wanted to do, not what YOU wanted me to do. You think my choice is bad? What's that you're doing now? Speaking? Are you allowed to do that? Do you have the RIGHT to do that? Why yes, yes you do. And why do you have that right? Because Men and Women like me made a choice. We chose to do something bigger than ourselves. We chose to aspire to something greater. We chose to put on a uniform, and we chose to fight for millions of people we have never met, and will never meet.

We put on camouflage, and we march in a line for hours. We do push-ups in the pouring rain. We crawl under barbed wire while slugs of hot lead fly fast overhead. We crouch behind buildings as shreds of metal rip apart the rock that keeps our skin intact. We charge together as a group. What we alone do doesn't make THE difference, nor does it achieve the objective. But what we together do makes a difference, and what we choose to do ensures that YOU have the right to tell me you disagree.

So please, I'm not asking for your permission. This is my choice, not yours. I see the bigger picture. I understand that no system is perfect, and that you disagreeing and dissenting is the most patriotic thing that can be done. I'm not asking for your approval, nor for your understanding. Instead, I ask that you realize that I do what I do for me, and for the faceless out there that I will never meet. For a few years I will bow down and become a tooth on a gear, a piece of a machine. For a few years I will serve, and I will do all these things. For you.

Ok, I lied.

I can't force myself to write things when there isn't anything to write. I guess that's the difference between me and some others. I refuse to hoop jump through a hoop I don't agree with, and no amount of coercion will convince me to.

On other notes, I've been working out a lot more, and getting myself back into shape. Endorphins help fight off winter depression, and keep me feeling fit!

A Post a Day Keeps Lethargy Away

I'm announcing a new goal. One post per day, in the hopes that I can use this as an outlet to keep my creativity running. I find that when all there is to life is class, homework, and sleep, I tend to shut down creativity. So you'll probably find some abstract stuff here. Some of it will make sense, others won't unless you experienced the same thing I did. So tag along, the journey of my consciousness ought to be entertaining.

Here's today's post. A Softer World is an amazing "comic."

(hint: Clicking on it will let you see the whole thing.)

Blame

Being accused of something you didn't do is terrifying. It shouldn't be, I know. But the fact of having a finger aimed in your direction, even falsely, is still enough to make me falter. I'm not sure why, especially because I am confident in my innocence. But even when a blatantly honest response is met with skepticism, there's that morsel in me that still screams alarm. I know I did nothing. I know it can be proved that I did nothing. But the finger is still pointing. It may be aimed at the person behind you. It may be aimed incorrectly. Fact is the finger is pointing, and you're under the gun.

It's times like these that I wish I were in the movies. Then I'd be able to uncover some kind of evil plot to bring down my school, or some corruption that only I could bring down. But instead, it's just me with a finger bearing down on me for something I didn't do. There's no heroism in a situation like this, only waiting for the hand to finally see your side and point elsewhere. Until then, all I can focus on is this digit in front of my face.

When the digit finally leaves, and there is no longer a finger looming in your face, it becomes much easier to examine the situation. You're no longer under the pressure of blame, and so more options become possibilities. You can see where the suspicion came from, and you can see what went through the hand's mind. You understand that roles are simply being followed, and that a lack of education at the beginning of the line can lead to this.

Instead of fear and anger, a feeling of all being OK settles down in you.