Indie Furront.

College starts tomorrow.

My mind has never felt so empty before. All my idealistic sentiments about the world and my role in it and God and religion and music and art and Love and Romances have, somewhere in the midst of this Christmas break, seeped out of my brains and onto the floor, forgotten amongst the small particles of dust that we trample on every day without realizing. I feel like an empty sea shell that used to have a crab or a crawdad living inside it, but the crawdad left whilst I was busy sleeping and now I wake up to find myself alone. Hopelessly empty. Or the Ashton Cutcher player that you see in commercials these days, where you wake up and find that the person you fell asleep with the night before had decided some time during the night to slip away because you snored too much or something. You wake to find yourself alone and empty and gross.

I have very high regards for my relationship to my idealistic sentiments, as you can see.
I suppose you might say, "Oh, Isaac, that's perfectly normal. It's okay if you feel that way. Everybody feels that way."
 Your few words of encouragement might be all well and good, but the words I'm hearing when you say that are: "Isaac, you're completely unoriginal with your feeling the way you are, so don't feel special for feeling out of place because you're not special or singular. You're just lame and mainstream is what you are." Oh gosh, I'm so hopeless. I'll take some good-natured encouragement from you and turn it against you because I'm just so melancholy and insecure.
Anyway, I don't know how to feel anymore... about anything. Who am I, exactly? Do I like eggs? Do I not like eggs? How do I feel about classic literature? Do I like it enough to make a career out of it? Or do I hate it? I honestly can't tell you one way or the other. Is electronic music bad? Is it good? Should I play it? Should I play accordion instead? Do I even like musical theater? Should I even bother with it? What would Isaac do? I don't know... he doesn't know. Neither of us do.

Indifferent.
That's what we are. Indifferent, we say!

What is it inside of us that makes the decisions about what we like to do and dislike to do? What determines that we enjoy football and not hockey? Or neither? What determines our taste in clothes? What motivates us to care or not care about what people think about us? What inside of us moves us to value loyalty to friends over self-indulgence? Why is Isaac asking so many questions?
He doesn't know, and neither do I.
Why do I write this blog?
Why do I even care about the Why's?
It's 6:56 p.m. and I'm listening to Pandora. I started out with it set to Sigur Ros, but somehow it evolved into some post-modern-classical piano pieces. I like it. I like Sigur Ros too. And tic-tacs. I like the right side of the car, as well, when we're driving. And the summer. I think...

I've been in the car for more than a total of 20 hours of traveling in the past week. I thought I would have my life figured out if I had twenty hours to think... But nothing's figured out. I think I even took a couple too many steps back  into an empty mind. Am I stupid?

Ballet tomorrow.
Do you wear the tights over the dance belt, or the opposite? I have no idea what I'm doing.
Peace and Love and Justice... I think. If you think you value those kinds of things, then go for it.
We're indifferent.