So many times, the mere suggestion of a new musical artist has sparked an immense defensive surge in me. I'll politely nod when told of his/her merits that in theory I ought to respond to, but in private I try to determine who I already know who's likely to be better than this as-of-yet unknown artist. I'm not sure if that's my way of telling myself that I possess some sort of deep musical knowledge, because that is just criminally wrong.

He had to slink away from the board as the instructor, rather indifferently, pointed out that it was pretty much all wrong. He just made a deferential smile and walked back to his seat, but not before something in the whole scene really got to me. I don't really know why his face, with its mildly embarassed expression, left such a strong impression. It was more than pathos, I am fairly sure. It conjured up a history of a life, so beautiful and simple, and suggested so much innocence and naivety that I felt it validated some of my intangible theories about existence and meaning.

Naturally, I cannot explain what these notions are, precisely, but my intuition tells me they are important. I am grateful to have moments like this that suggest something a careless eye might not see. While my impressions of them may be obviously rooted in an impossible world of fantasy, I assure you their resonance is very much real.

One of the pecularities of this blog is the fact that I've chosen to be so reserved, all the while proudly displaying my name for all to see in the address. In my defense, it was created in the early days, when I didn't really have any plans as to where it was going to lead. But in the name of partial anonymity, I'd be well-advised to choose a more cryptic address that doesn't blurt out my secret identity. As such, I think I'll move to http://thebackwardstraveller.blogspot.com soon*. I don't know how the domain change works, but I'd imagine this address wouldn't be capable of a redirect all that easily. So take this to be an early warning!

* Of course, I'll probably change the title five more times, but this one has stuck for a while now.

Move completed! All it took was a nervous couple of seconds where I relinquished my oldie domain name, and then switched the blog addresses. And I was right, there is no explicit redirect, but I've kept the old domain intact for nostalgia's sake, even if all it contains is a relocation message.

The extended lounge chair has proved to be a place which encourages the telling of some fantastic tales. And yet, I always sit rather aloof on the unusually tall chair, literally towering over these people, and each time wonder whether I've really lived a life at all. I can't say I'm unduly perturbed over not having any interesting yarns of my own to share, but it makes for uncomfortable moments when amongst any half-normal company.

Not even I know what this means anymore (I'm not being flippant).

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The first taste of true choice, and all it implies, left a strange sensation. These fantastic tales of freedom and why it's something we should all be striving for as early as possible seem rather naive. Being sheltered isn't that bad, really. Connecting with reality isn't necessarily as good as it sounds - it depends on whose reality we're talking about.