“I’ve developed a new philosophy…”
-Charlie Brown
I’m a big believer in not stressing.
Let me just rephrase that: I’m a big believer in big believing. It’s my new philosophy.
Almost every other day, it seems, I will announce to whoever I am eating lunch with or just to an empty dorm room that I, Brandon James Wainerdi, will now and forever, live by this, my brand new personal philosophy. But, without fail, the mantra quietly manages to fade away as the week passes and, eventually, I find myself lost, without even a slightly off-kilter, philosophic compass. Or, at least, lost until the next phrase that I read on the Internet or the newest witty saying I came up with in the shower takes its brief, glorious place in my life.
Time, mantra-filled or not, has been passing quickly; the past few months going by with a rather alarming speed. So, for posterity’s sake, I’ve taken to write down some of my favorite philosophies of the past months, so that, when I am graying and wrinkled, I can look back and laugh at how foolish I was as an eighteen-year-old. Some of them (the admittedly “lame” ones) are my own creation and others were penned by rappers or fictional characters or authors or saviors. It’s a rather eclectic blend:
· Just smile and smell good.
· Nap often.
· Preach the Gospel every day. If necessary use words.
· Get busy living or get busy dying.
· I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
· Early to bed. At least, before midnight.
· Bike at 4 AM. Hear the birds wake up and see the sun rise.
· I’m a big believer in not stressing.
If you can’t tell, my views on sleeping/not sleeping vary by the week, my overall life philosophy, overall life goal, consistently shifting and bending to the influences of the hour. But that’s my life.
For this week, at least.
*****
A Post Scriptum, or whatever: The biggest stress-reliever that I have had in my life, at least for this semester, is my radio show. It’s not often that someone gets the opportunity to rant and play music for two hours but I’ve been lucky enough to do just that and it has been wonderful. In between breaks, I’ve found myself writing more and more poetry, including:
Disc Jockey Love Anthem
How do I love you?
Let me count the mix CD’s.
I do not sing, my voice flounders at low octaves,
I do not dance, my body shuffles awkwardly on wood-panel floors,
I have no rhythm of my own to give.
But others, more talented and patient that I, have felt the same way,
of that I am positive.
Tracklist poetry.
My heart burns like the red blank disc spinning in my laptop’s undergroove.
Here are volumes 1 through 4.
I’ll give you the rest tomorrow.
