I THINK MANY THINGS

I think many things, all kinds of things actually. I don’t think there is a minute that goes by in which I am not thinking of some thing or another. Wait, see, there I go again. Just thinking away as though I were built for it or something. Never ceases to amaze me, you know, that thinking I do. I think of big things and small things, though I am most particularly fond of the slightly below mid-sized things that I think about without even really thinking about it. I ought to try marketing this stuff, or perhaps copyrighting it, this thinking thing. Who’d have ever thought? And since today is a day for thinking about things, and thinking about the thinking about things, I shall share some of the things about which I am thinking [about].

One:
Today I have been thinking about the word “Stop.” Other than its moderate success in connection with stop signs, there are few words more often ignored than the word “stop.“ On can endlessly implore: Stop committing genocide! Stop undermining our educational systems! Stop scratching yourself there! Stop being such a douche! But, still, people will insist on committing genocide, educating poorly, scratching themselves inappropriately, and being douche bags. Alas, the word stop seems to be so ineffectual that it perhaps needs to be replaced. Maybe we need to borrow from the German language the ability to produce special composite words – maybe something along the lines of "stop or I will kick you in a very sensitive place so that you will cease doing that irritating thing." Stop seems to me to be such a simple request, but – considering the number of remarkably stupid things this species does each year – perhaps I am mistaken.

Two:
I often think of the myriad things going on beneath my feet all of the time that I will never see. I am not even talking about all the worms and dirt and fungi and hell and stuff; I am just talking about the things we have put down there. You know, the pipes and ducts and doo-hickies. Every time when I pass a manhole cover I wonder about all the various activities going on underground – that is after I get over tittering about thinking the word “manhole.” All the underground stuff brings back to mind the scene from Ghostbusters II when they found the old subway line filled with ectoplasm. I am also fascinated by stories of campuses having networks of underground tunnels – as both my high school and undergraduate institution supposedly did. But, as I was saying, it is amazing to me all the pipes and tunnels and conduits we have put underground to make our world more convenient, and I will never see this world that makes my world go. Thus, when I walk around, I always look for ways to get down there, even though I would probably chicken out if I ever found a way in.

Three:
Booze. I like booze. I find myself thinking about it often – real booze that is. I don’t go in for those frou-frou liquors; I, instead, think about things like bourbon and scotch, gin and vodka, or, if I am feeling like something soft, beer or wine. Yep. Booze is good. It so often seems a good idea. I don’t mean in drunken excess or anything, but a little good booze goes a long way. I don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about booze, but when I do, I think it is a good idea. Today seems a good day for a little time with some booze; a day for a little drinking and thinking, if I may say such a thing. Mmmm… booze.

Four:
Today I have been thinking about the students I have taught. [Pause for an aside to send a shout out to all you Drake kids.] Today I miss them; actually, more to the point, I miss teaching. I really do like teaching, and, if I must say so myself, I think I am rather good at it. But today I have been thinking about certain students in particular: those few who didn’t suck and actually made teaching incredibly rewarding. It is not that I dislike teaching the average ones, but today I have missed those who did incredible things. I recently got a letter from one of those students thanking me for doing what I do: that was pretty freaking cool. [If you are out there reading, thank you.] This weekend those students who arrived at Drake when I did are graduating, but I am not there. I feel like I am missing something. It is not that I regret my decision to leave – you have no idea how glad I am to be living with the wife at last – but there is definitely something missing as graduation season rolls in and I am, well, detached.

But mostly today was a day for extraneous thoughts, gratuitous thoughts toyed with and developed only to be let go of to flitter away carelessly to wherever it is excess thoughts go. I searched for a few monumental ideas – I may have found some for all I know – but I did not feel obliged to hold on to them. A few things stuck [see above, one through four], but not with any great intention. Today I felt filled with the frivolity of thinking, rolling it around in my mind, stumbling across a thought or two, letting a phrase or fragment straggle and stick [again see above]. But, by and large, today was a day for thinking, but not remembering.

Today I thought many things, perhaps tomorrow I will remember.