Like a Phoenix Rising from its ashes

This is from my updated Myspace blog:

"Thus begins my new blog, risen from the abyss to start anew. I can't remember what incarnation this particular Myspace profile has become, so many over the past few years. Its refreshing to put the time and effort back into creating a profile from nothing, of starting over and approaching the site with a blank slate. In the past so many friends whom I didn't really know were added randomly, whoever requested to be my friend, without seriously considering anything about the person or their motivations.

But thats not what I wish to speak about. The last few weeks have been filled with trials and tribulations, of confronting the darkest of my demons. Still I fight against the shadows of my past and the confront the spectres of my future. I've been plagued with the strongest case of uncertainty I've thus far faced. Could it be the realization that in less than a year I will be out of college, forced to face the real world. My confusion about graduate school, where I want to go, what I want to do. Or is it something deeper, confusion about my beliefs and my spirituality. Unsure of where to go, I stumble from day to day without really realizing much or living to the fullest. I've descnded back into the pit of despair of which I'm all to familiar with.

I hate writing with such a depressing outlook, My intention is not to appear depressed, but merely reflecting over the maelstrom of my mind, the abstractness of the uncertainties and the realization that time is running out. Each day it seems like I have less and less time to accomplsih what I need and want to accomplsih. Its just so overwhelming at times, and I hate to think that it is indicative of what the rest of my life will be.

I've tried on so many levels to do something. But, it seems more and more that my cries are ignored, that my attempts are turned to dust and lost to the sands of time.. It grows tiresome, that despite all the noise I try to make and despite all the work I put forth that it is all still ignored. How is it that people can find it so easily to dismiss what I have to say, that they are not even so inclined to at least say something back or at least tell me to go disappear.

The worst is having the dichotomoy of two opposing views, of on one hand realizing the impertinence of reality, the impermanence of it all, and on the other hand of confronting the ego, the desire to live, to love, to succeed and abstaining from failure. Confronting the demons of desire and living according to my ideals. My ideals, notice the word there. 'Ideal'. So many ideals, so many decisions that I've made that have led me down tattered roads, ending nowhere and throwing me into a cataclysm of confounding thoughts and perceptions.

A discussion I had last night with a friend, of confronting the notion that after this there is nothing, that we simply cease to be. That once I die I'm no more, yet the world keeps living. My entire life, the very premise of which I've based my beliefs have been due to the fact that there's something more, that the universe is conscious and that eventually I'll free myself from the cycle of rebirth and join with this Universal Consciousness. The belief and the hope that this is not the only life I've lived nor will it be the last. Because it has all been a waste, it has all been a contradiction, a chaotic paradox filled with disappointment. I have to believe that no matter what tomorrow brings, and no matter what fate has instore, that this is not the only way, that this is not the only thing.

If I were to wake up tomorrow and know, with abolute certainty, that this is in fact all there is, what would I do? How could I continue living, knowing that everything I do and everything I did was in vain, and that no matter how much I tried and how much I worked that nothing will ever change. Sure, I can adhere to the principles of hedonism and live life to the fullest, but what would it accomplish? What would be the purpose.

The very existence of life, and the mere fact that the world perpetuates itself in light of death and destruction is proof, to me, that there is something greater. The experiences I've had with the gifts of the Gods, the plants of enlightenment and the molecules of spiritual expression is more than enough proof that there is more. But, despite it all I always have that nagging voice in my head, of telling me that it is game over, and thats that.

What roads will I take tomorrow, and what journies will I go on. What monsters will I confront and what friends will I make along the way. Will I be the same tomorrow as I was today. Am I really who I am, or am I simply an illusion, my consiousness a mere reflection but in itself unimportant.

So much to do, so little time. And even as I write this I find confrontation within myself, forcing myself to be restrained, to null these feelings and emotions, this concerns and hopes, these fears and expectations. Of imprisoning my ego and subjecting its will to my demands. But the ego is strong, and there is no other way to put it."