So, more on yesterday, I suppose.
I went up to Denver to see Pearl yesterday, which, whenever I see anyone from Regis, leaves me with all kinds of mixed things. Before I get to my diatribe on personal nature, I will briefly mention my physical activities for the day. After waking, I burned the remainder of my Celtic Woman CD's for Pearl and Drew, then making spanakopita (my personal best so far, not one triangle did not come out perfectly). The drive up to Denver was unremarkable, however I do like driving on Hwy. 83 far more than I-25 for scenic purposes, and a reduction of traffic. It just keeps growing, which is somewhat depressing. Denver's arms grasp towards Franktown now, and soon, there will be no space between COS and Denver. Anyways, I got to Pearl's house around 11 AM, and we went shopping (correction, she went shopping, I supervised), walked through a Farmer's Market, sampling a variety of items, including Palisade Peaches, bread varieties, blackberry balsalmic vinegar (amazing concoction), different energy/supplement drinks, coffee, and white chocolate raspberry peanut butter. This was followed promptly by lunch at P.F. Chang's where we had Crab Wontons with a spicy plum sauce, Chang's Spicy Chicken, Sichuan style asparagus, and banana spring rolls. The food was quite excellent, however, the service was somewhat less so. We had inconsistent servers bringing us two drinks, when we already had enough, too many plates, but our food service was somewhat too long. Perhaps the day had started disorganizedly, or such is the typical style of the restaurant. I don't know that I would call the items authentically Asian, as these items had far too much fat and sugar. Authentic ethnic foods focus on the foods themselves, i.e., enliven the asparagus with enough oil to soften it, and with enough spices to accompany it, but don't drown it. We had white rice too, however, I think I would have preferred brown, simply on the basis of better nutrition.

The experience left me craving fundamental health, and I lament that restaurants no longer find health to be a central focus, but rather a possible side item, claiming an item is healthy. For example, when I go to Village Inn, I always order the Fruit and Nut pancakes, with no butter, no syrup, and find the waiter staring at me in disbelief. The menu states that they are healthy for the heart and are lower in calories, however, adding butter and syrup debases both arguments.

Anyways. After lunch we returned to Pearl's house where after failing to initiate a meaningful conversation, we both politely decided in an inconspicuous sort of way that it would be best if I left. I drove through Denver for a while, finding the place completely indesireable to live, and left for home.

It's of course always good to see people, but whenever I see people, I am reminded of the tumultuousness of my life then and how now everything is so different, so routine now. I guess that's part of getting older and more complacent. I have no other choice really to continue with what I am doing with full force.

I find myself with all kinds of different reactions to these events. Essentially, I am ever more convinced that what I have been doing is what is best for me, and that my future can only grow more certain as I cut off other possibilities; however, at the same time, I am nostalgic for such chaos as I once had. The uncertainty of everyday situations was a serious adrenaline rush, and any moment could turn from pleasant anticipation to sheer panic. I had no serious cares, because everything seemed to be taken care of on its own, independently of whatever I did or did not do.

But now there are more responsibilities, more expectations, and more urgency to what I am doing. Everything I do requires my immediate response, from credit card debt, to school, to work, everywhere. The relax and the chaos combined to form this amazing sequence of disorder, one of the few times in my life where so little could be controlled. Compared to now, where my commitments leave me on edge most of the day, and the constant worry of failure precedes every thought that I have.

Caught between the peril of failure and the absolute thrill of success, I find that there is little substance beneath. Determined to make of myself a scientific being, I have gutted what little personality once existed, and my conversations revolve around completely impersonal things. Perhaps this makes me the perfect intellectual: someone who knows everything about everything, but refuses at all costs to acknowledge himself. I find myself in utter disagreement with those who find meaning in their lives. Relationships, emotions, internal awareness...those are the things that create the internal chaos and the thrill that goes with it. I have exchanged these things for more superficial relations on the basis of personal survival, strucutre and logic, complete external awareness. They have given me the consistency I once sought in my chaos, and now, I find that with consistency, the chaos was too exhillirating to abandon. The sheer hours after seeing someone leaves with with moments of chaos again, which might explain why I go up to Denver rather than having people come down here. The few hours I have to drive gives me the pensive capacity to revel in brief moments of chaos, followed by the grim determination of consistency, logic, and the drive to excel.

I once feared the possibility of perpetual existence upon my death, but this drive towards both consistency and towards excelsior has made it so that there is but a singular goal. Once I have achieved such a goal, then life doesn't really matter, nor does it exist. The process has completely removed the possibility for things like souls, spirits, the existential. I have become successful in my fundamental goals regarding my desire to change my philosophy.

I find other things fundamentally different as well. Despite my scientism, I am also an inherent optimist on the economic growth of people as a whole. The stories of nations like Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Malaysia, India, the United Arab Emirates, Jordan, South Africa, Eastern Europe, etc. going from the third world to veritable economic powers has led me to believe that at some point, all might enjoy basic economic opportunities. Though many of these nations have their inherent inadequacies and inequalities, their track is similar to the United States' track, and with hope, they too can find some equality. I see a responsibility in the rich countires to help the poor countries, and to ensure that people have fulfilled their basic requirements of food, clean water, and adequate shelter.

Therefore, I find it all the more disturbing at the blatant materialism of what I encountered yesterday. The Catholic parish of Our Lady of Loretto in Centennial practiced what I find to be the most severe violation of the ethical principles of the religion. Though I am not much of a practicer of the religion, I am still, generally, a practicer of the ethical tradition. The parish spent four million dollars to purchase a piece of the supposed cross. I emphasize supposed, because there cannot be any evidence to adequately prove that one particular tree the one on which the historical figure hung. Essentially, any reasonable person would look at that purchase and wonder why the people could not have sent that four million dollars to people in inner city Denver, to Malawi, or to some other place ravaged by poverty. Not to mention that the church spent dollars to secure the chair from which John Paul presided over World Youth Day in 1993 (?). Essentially, people who could have used that support to survive died so that posh Denverite Catholics could gaze at a chair and a piece of wood with no INHERENT meaning.

I find this behavior elsewhere among other Christians, such as one local company that aims to provide a Bible for all the people in the world who are suffering when providing them with their basic physical needs.

How essentially wrong. If they were using it to provide a means of helping people help other people (like buying a bus to take volunteers to clean up a park, or to the food shelter, etc.) then I can understand it. But not on wood, paper, and chairs.

I may be spending my money on things like books, education, and gasoline, but it will get me to some point of improvement. I can justify such expenditures. Can they? Doubtful.