I think my truancy comes from the special lack of 'things' happening in my life. I'm not complaining about a boring life, I've got plenty going on, but I would say at the moment I'm working towards those delectable moments of one's life that are exciting to share, rather than in the midst of them. Remember when Cowdery penned, "These were days never to be forgotten..."? Those days these aren't. So, unfortunately, I only have thoughts to share, as those tend to be abundant even when experiences ain't.
Lets talk about perceptions of security. Or better yet, I'll write about it and you read. I've been thinking aboot this one due to a number of recent experiences, of which I present two:
- A good friend of mine had her car stolen
- Another friend (and his wife) had their laptop (among other things) stolen from their apartment
I believe that our perception of security is a heuristic that we use in order that we not live in crippling fear. Unfortunately, most heuristics are built on our aspired notions and experience, not necessarily statistical data or even relevant information. In both cases the aspired ideal met dissonance in reality. I've pondered a great deal on both cases, and how safe I feel in my own neighborhood. And my ideals. I've always heard of those farming communities where no one locks their doors and everyone leaves their car keys on the visor of the vehicle. But I've never lived in those communities and, of more concern to myself, I've never aspired to. There's been many mentions of the irony that temples have locker room with actual locks on each locker. But I fear that inherent distrust is my instinct. The commonality of necessary security brings it to the obligatory mundane and, I feel, natural sequence. It would not surprise me if my mansion in heaven had a lock on the door. Agreeably, not because it would require it, but because of the ingrained notion that the only way to feel secure is to be secure.
It is for this reason that I feel at a loss. It's not the state of living in a place where locks weren't necessary, it's the state of idealistic bliss that such a place exists, and the mindset to feel at home in such a place. If I could illustrate more clearly, I've been learning a new keyboard layout for the last year plus some. It's paid off to the point that I'm at least as fast typing in Dvorak as I ever was in Qwerty. But there was a learning curve to that. The plasticity of my brain allowed me to learn a different way of doing the same thing - type - even though the process was the same (push certain keys in a certain pattern). My fear is that I've adapted the heuristic that is irreversible. I will never feel that my stuff is secure unless it is secure. There is no new keyboard layout that I can learn other than physically locking my stuff up, and it will always be so. Or maybe, as I said before, it is so because I've never had the desire for it to be otherwise. But now I wonder if it's enough now that I have the desire to have the desire for it to be so. Kind of like how I go on some dates just because I want to want to go on dates. Anyhow, It's 4:00, and right now I want to want to get some sleep, which will probably be better accomplished without continued synaptic stimulation. Good night, idealists.