There’s a certain mundanity to getting older. Like a few days ago I was taking the subway home and I noticed the absolute zombie stare of everyone around me. I was looking this guy straight into his eyes, but for the life of me couldn’t tell if he could even see me back. Though I mean in retrospect I’m sure there was some kid on the train peering into my hunched postured, pale 9-5 ridden body thinking, “my god will I become that when I’m older?” It’s this perpetual feeling of being in transition, both too young and too old at the same time. Sitting at some intersection, waiting for the signal to tell you to turn or go backwards. Or do goddamn anything really. And I lay in bed at night wondering if anything I’m doing is for the right reasons. But in reality I haven’t done anything particularly beneficial in the last six months.

I was watching TV pretty late last night. There’s something about insomniatic TV that is almost therapeutic. You just turn it on at 2AM and let it run, infomercials and self-help ads simultaneously pushing and pulling through some hypnotic trance. There was this particular half hour slot called The Power Within Us brought to you by self-improvement master Jim Collins. I mean it was obviously pseudo intellectual bullshit, but sometimes just allowing yourself to peer into the corners of absurdity isn’t such a bad thing. Well that’s my excuse at least. Well the whole idea of The Power Within Us is that on any given day, with the right positive energies, you can discover innate talents within you. And of course getting the full 6 DVD set, with an optional add-on for in person services with Jim himself cost $2,499. So I decided that this morning I would take it upon myself to discover my own innate talents.

While not religious by any means, I sometimes get annoyed by the hyper-rationalism of my generation. This hyperbolic reaction that anything not immediately rooted in logic is a specter out to haunt the world. There is a certain beauty in just letting all semblance of realism wash away. For a little while at least. Finding meaning in corners that seemed too risky to venture, deep in the recesses of an overly educated mind. So I’m giving myself five minutes every morning. See it’s not like I’m going full on end-of-the-world nut. Five minutes to become somebody else. To truly believe that if I put forth the right intentions, I can stomp into my office, quit in a fit of rage and go become a prolific writer. To play in a professional symphony, learn five languages. Play professional baseball, win the lottery. Hell even take over the world maybe.

And sure, I suppose this sounds completely benign, entirely mundane. Of course everybody daydreams on occasion. Loses themselves in thought now and then. And I mean, I’m not saying it’s revolutionary. But that’s the beauty in personal revelations. I am in control of what I find meaningful, each and every day. Taking even a minute step towards something different. Seeing the green light ever so slightly start to illuminate. Realizing that what’s inside you isn’t necessarily the ability to paint the Mona Lisa, but however far off the ability to be truly happy. That’s something right? It has to be.