While walking along the beach this morning I found a little starfish. Having never seen a starfish before I approached it cautiously, let it know I was an unarmed pacifist discontent with my life, just wandering the earth seeking new friends. I told him I usually don’t go near the ocean because it seems unfriendly and impersonal but I really need to meet new people and replace my horrible, useless asshole friends. I asked if i could pick up the starfish and asked what gender it was. The lovable creature responded to none of my questions or statements vocally; just moving its hundreds of little arms-legs up and down in an empathetic manner. I picked it up.

Immediately I was stung by its infectious positive attitude and I began to view the past year of my life as a statement of success rather than a series of abysmal failures. It was as if the starfish was saying, “Brian, even though unlike me, you don’t look like what humans typically call a star–which is also a term that is used to denote exceptionality of some sort–you really are! We are all stars!”

I briefly thought about what he didn’t say and then tossed him back in the water. His wholehearted acceptance had moved me.

Was the star creature right? Could I also be a star? Me…Brian…a star? I have two legs, two arms and one head–in a way I do resemble a physically-deformed version of a generic star shape. I have five pieces pointing out of my core. Beyond the physical, I try hard to grow outward, in the same way a star shines. I came to the conclusion I could reasonably convince a child between the ages of four and 10 that I am a star, but beyond that my probability of success would likely drop dramatically.

After the starfish incident I went over some things that have happened the past year, similar to they way I did in the post about making sense of 2012. This time I was thinking little more clearly; some of the gray film obscuring my eyes had been washed off.

In the span of one year I’ve pushed toward new places and ways to live life like I never have before. It’s true that nothing has remotely worked out as I hoped it would, that I’ve spent most of my money and that there have only been a handful of days this year that I haven’t thought of stabbing myself…but those consequences are ultimately irrelevant. I’d rather be moving and “failing” than staying still where I am and being unhappy. I know this blog often sounds negative and some people have actually encouraged me to stop writing it because it makes me seem unstable and frequently irrational. That’s definitely NOT even 1% true. I think the blog is pretty positive for the most part.

The past two years I have lived so many different lives. I often dream in languages I don’t speak, waking up disoriented, wondering where I am. Sometimes thinking back a week or two is like climbing in the attic and opening a sealed-up cardboard box you forgot was there, full of letters from ex-girlfriends or your awesome stamp collection. My perception of time has seriously been skewed. This makes total sense–the amount of resources I spend during one day in Malaysia (trying to figure out where to sleep, which word is push and which is pull, what the fuck I’m eating) beats out a week of energy expended in the States, my default home, where I often feel like I’m walking through in a daze, robotic and disinterested. Though I’m happy with decisions I’ve made to come and go from home to home, I feel I have reinforced my own isolation and short-term view of life. Hopefully a sense of structure will help rebuild my connection to living, people and not cycling through different existences so fast.

I started writing this with a totally different idea of what I was going to say. I was excited to mention how in the past year I’ve seen a lot of different water–swam in the South China Sea, put my foot in the North Sea and played around on sandbars in the Gulf of Mexico. Watched it snow in Berlin, sweated my ass off in Malaysia. I also started writing this almost three five months ago. This seems to happen though I am working hard to stop it. When I have a proper job I never struggle to complete things before they’re due. I need a job.

Well, I’ll leave you with some pictures since I’ve started deviating and rambling. There are two series here. The series demonstrate oscillating mindsets that struggle against themselves in worldview and desire:

Morning exuberance vs serotonin-deficiency.

Cheers.