A Day in the Life of Chaos

I have a theory in life that every condition, every state, is relative in some way.  Sometimes it is larger, sometimes it is smaller.  It could be as grand as life and the universe or as small as bacteria in my dog’s mouth.  We see things on our scale, then there is the cellular scale or the atomic scale.  Each level is equally complex but entirely relative to itself.   Okay before I continue to a point that I would need marijuana to sooth the bulging blood vessels in my over taxed mind, I had better step back.  For the context of this discussion I will apply the same theory to social life and intellectual discovery.  We live within layers of social life each on a different scale.  Each is complex and interdependent in its own way.  Some of us seek social life outside of our immediate environment, other’s never do.  As you grow older in life our worlds keep expanding.  I think often times this is a result of an internal need in some people for greater and different stimulus.

They call Alaska the Land of the Midnight Sun.  If you are not from Alaska you may not understand but this is largely derived from the fact that long about the end of June there is about as much light at midnight as there is mid-day.  Eventually somewhere around 2 or 3 in the morning it gets kind of dim but never really dark.  Alaska is a land of absolutes in many ways and while the Midnight Sun sounds romantic the opposite that occurs long around Mid-December is Eternal Darkness.  During that time the Midnight Sun becomes the Midnight Moon.  In winter you pretty much live in darkness because the only day light is from about 9am to 3pm and during that time you are likely in school or working.   The contrast makes half of the year stand out so much more vividly in my mind than the other half.  When I look back into the deep corners of my mind the vast majority of memories that bubble to the surface occurred in the summer.  Summer in Alaska is a kind of orgasm of life.  To escape t

I am not sure why as we grow older and try to remember the past often our thoughts drift to our youngest age.  Perhaps it is our own psyche recognizing the importance in those formative years on how we came to know the world.  Maybe it was the most interesting part of our lives.  Perhaps it is a yearning for lost innocence.  Whatever the reason I found myself today harkening back to memories of one of the most brutal locations of a young child’s life, the playground.   For a young child the playground embodies liberation, freedom, friendship and hierarchy.  It also is an arena where it is kill or be killed.  It is a regulated pandemonium when adult supervision is minimized and like Lord of the Flies children express their dominance over the others.  It can be in games, submission or actions of deprecation.  I can still recall Todd Mueller or was it Bobby Andresen pinching my neck and forcing me to bow while they said “Bauer, bow to the emperor.” I learned early on that a key to s

"I need a change."  It is an expression I have often uttered in my life as I have never been a person that can stay settled too long.  I think there is something about the hidden synapses of my brain that craves variance and at times unpredictability.  When I look back on my life from my perch of 46 years there has been a lot of change and some constants as well.  One constant was my own childhood.  I am thankful to have been able to grow up with the same set of friends living in the same town.  At one point my parents simply moved across town and I was devastated.  This despite the fact I actually remained in the same school.  I swore when I moved to my current location I would afford my child the same opportunity.  I don't know if it is as equally important to him yet I have never tested the idea.  As he enters his Junior year in high school my promise is nearly complete.  He has lived his memorable youth in one house and grown up with the same boys living around him.

There are times when I can remember being a child.  I close my eyes and a vivid vision comes to play dancing across the neurotransmitters that record the memories of life.  It can be in the form of a sense, a smell or a touch.  They are good visions, not sad ones.  Recollections of moments of happiness.  The kinds of memories that I dare not contemplate before I sleep because if I do, sleep will never find me. As Christmas rolls around once again I remember the days as if they were yesterday.  My father is unquestionably one of the most talented people I have ever known.  Christmas always seemed like an opportunity for him to put his talents to the test.  There were nights when I would lay in bed waiting for sleep to take me on Christmas Eve and I would hear strange sounds in the house.  I wasn't allowed to investigate so my mind and imagination would just capture my sensibilities. I can remember one Christmas so vividly.  I must have been six, seven or maybe eight years

Very young Patrick There is a land far to the north that in many ways seems disconnected from reality.  When you live there it is like living on an island and news from the outside comes in snip-its that leave you at times questioning your involvement with the rest of the world.  It is a magical place and I when I first came to know it,  the largest city was still developing.  Many roads were unpaved.  Television was primitive.  There were only three networks and shows would come up on tapes from Seattle with a two week delay.  Try to avoid a Monday Night Football score for two weeks!  The town was so news starved there were actually two news papers.  How many cities these days can boast that? The people that lived there were as disconnected as the place.  They seemed to all be running from something and everyone had a different and unique reason for their flight.  Somehow in the self imposed exile there was company among strangers.  Everyone seemed to revel in being different, be

Sally Goodloe Christmas and the New Year is a time of reflection. In truth it is simply an artificial line in the sand yet for some reason, it serves as a bookmark, the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one.  A book is a wonderful parable for life.  It has a beginning and an end, a start and a conclusion. When it comes to an end we place it on a shelf where it eventually becomes forgotten.  Perhaps someday, someone will pull the book down and re-read the story, bringing the characters to life once again. We all change in life.  Day by day, hour by our we age and the exterior shape we once occupied ceases to exist.  Despite this fact, sometimes things in life are hard to accept, even hard to look at.  They can be things we love or things we hate.  Either way, there are times when the healing process is so slow the reintroduction of them into our lives takes time.  Sometimes it never happens and we end up dying with the ghosts of our past.  Sally Goodloe