I caught Into the wild recently. I haven’t read the book, Tori and Mom have. Mom says she’ll send it to me when she gets home. I knew going into the theater that the movie although based on a true story was going to be a bit dramatized. I don’t consider myself trained in wilderness survival to any degree, but I group up in the sticks and have spent more than a few days wandering around with a compass trying to find the way back somewhere. I don’t remember a situation where I was lost to a degree that I was ever afraid. I suppose because I was normally prepared enough. Be it familiar with the territory, armed with map and compass, or just had the suburban and the VHF amateur radio such that phones or not I could call for help if things came that far. Interestingly though, I don’t recall ever convincing myself of my safety because of these things. It’s also just been a confidence that I could get my way out of these situations before it got too bad. Perhaps that’s dangerously unwarranted.

Mom or Matthew sent me this bit. Perhaps the first article about all of this news? I’m not sure. I kind of knew going into the movie that the protagonist was idealistic and would be somewhat unprepared as a result for the undertaking. There are lots of comments that this was somewhat on purpose, fueled by suicidal intentions. The aforementioned article gets into this, and I was touch a bit by this:

At the time, death was a concept I understood only in the abstract. I didn’t yet appreciate its terrible finality or the havoc it could wreak on those who’d entrusted the deceased with their hearts. I was stirred by the mystery of death; I couldn’t resist stealing up to the edge of doom and peering over the brink. The view into that swirling black vortex terrified me, but I caught sight of something elemental in that shadowy glimpse, some forbidden, fascinating riddle.

Since my [near fatal?] accident, I’m regularly asked how it’s changed my life. I’ve talked about this quite a bit here at this point as I have been thinking about it. I have not revalued my life in some significant way such as the movies generally are written. I have no turned my life to volunteering or whatnot, although I am currently unemployed and spend a lot of time sitting on my ass. Unfortunately I’m not doing anything wholly american like watching TV, as I watched so much TV while I was in the hospital and when I was first bed-ridden at home that I have a sour taste in my mouth from it and have even tired of Law and Order, a feat once believed to be impossible.

There’s a few physical ailments that probably contribute to my new found feeling of being “old and worn”. I have almost constant lower back pain. It’s dull enough I can deal with it, but I’m not crazy about it. It’s possibly tied to my pelvis injuries. I’ll ask about it when I go back in November for my [last?] pelvis follow-up. And there’s a bit with my head were leaning it back on things kind of makes life dreamy. I wish I could better describe that, but I can’t right now. It’s not dizzy, but it is such that waking up in the morning is a little more of grouchy experience for me than it used to be. All I have to say about this is “Damn Kids and their Tahoe’s”.

Sleeping has always been a short disconnect for me. Other than dreams, I haven’t thought much of it. Losing almost two weeks of my life combined from head trauma, heavy drugs to counteract the pelvis pain, and lots of continuous sleep, was an interesting experience. It’s one thing when time goes fast, it’s another when it’s gone. I feel now that’s what death is like, and I’m not looking forward to it at all. I have no [crazy] expectations of angels and clouds or 130 virgins or any other insane afterlife. I just expect it to be nothingness. Nothing is definitely not anything to look forward to.

Those who know me for a while learn that I’m a huge sap. I suppose it’s confusing, I laugh far too loud at parts of dramatic movies that are not meant to be laughed at. All the same, anything “heartwarming” in a movie generally brings on at least a tear or two. (I’m just confusing. Yeah.) Near the end of the movie, the “moral” part, “Alex” writes “Happiness is only real when shared” on a page of a book of a writer he’s sort of idolizing or trying to follow in the learnings of. There’s an OKC question that’s been tumbling in and out of head for a bit: “Would you rather that, when you meet your partner, he/she is complete and happy without you so you can be complete together, or would you rather they were incomplete so that you can come along and complete them?”, with possible answers being: “Complete and happy.” or “I want to complete them.” On second thought the implication of this feels a little different than whats on my mind. But I recently talked to mom about how in high school, before any relationships, I had felt that one should come to a relationship whole and without baggage. At this point though, as I grow older and realize how unique I am, which is a nice way of saying I have lots of baggage and unanswered questions, I have fully realized an idea that has permeated other parts of my life for some time.

I’ve realized in Tech. that I won’t know everything, and find this essential for being able to have a conversation with anyone about tech. Whenever I meet someone who thinks they know it all, I tend to bullshit my way out of the conversation such that I can leave, as I immediately distrust everything they say, lacking the equivalent of a peer-review. Part of this comes from growing up with the internet and other forms of learning more immediately accessible and trustworthy than say “college”, which by the time I could go was no longer worth the time, let alone the money.

The rest of life is like this too though, so it is a good lesson to carry. It’s important to share my life with people. I’ve always looked for a companion to share my adventures with, and as I spend more time dealing with ordeal known by the public as “dating”, I’m not sure if thats an aspiration that is going to come to light or not. I don’t know if I will continue being as stir-crazy as I always have been, but I do somehow feel it likely that times will continue coming that regardless of how much I settle, days come where I’m compelled to pack up and keep moving. Because life is and adventure, an accumulation of experiences, not of anything else. Those experiences are much better when shared. It seems like such an incredible shame to waste that opportunity.

It’ll be interesting when I find the motivation to at least revive and archive of some of my old rants from a 3-5 years ago. There sure were a lot of them, many much longer than this, and I believe much less intelligible. While my writing has alway been good, it’s been my communication that’s been lacking. Right now I believe that’s been from not having the right interaction with people to relate what was going through my head in such a meaningful way.

A girl recently brought up to me that we had nothing in common. While pondering it now I feel like we all have a lot in common when you look at life in this sort of way of a journey, rather than amounting to what distractions we choose to entertain ourselves with. I suppose that’s why I’ve always been attracted more to people’s personalities than their looks or interests. However, this may be too deep, and therefore too unstable of a way of living. I guess the next couple of years will have something to show in answer to this. I think one of the biggest risks of this outlook is finding people who realize that their friday night activities do not amount to their life. I hope that as I’m getting older, I’ll find more and more wiser people who will be on this wavelength with me.