Figuring out what you're supposed to do and what you want to do can get pretty confusing. For so long in my life I've felt like I'm right on the brink of something, but when you stand at the top of a cliff for so long, you just begin to enjoy the view instead of getting caught up on the anxiety of standing so close to the edge. Does life follow a trend or do you develop cycles for change? After your current cycle ends, do you feel the need to cultivate your life and turn everything up? Or do we find comfort in what we know, knowing that we're building on top of the cycles that have come before the current?

I put a lot of hope into Time, that it heals, that it clarifies and that it gives you a new perspective. The agony is in the waiting. One of my friends suggested to me recently that "you can leave and come back, but you can't stay and go" - so does that mean that you always need to go for the new experience? There's definitely a sense of adventure in that statement, but it doesn't absolve the reality of now. You can leave and come back, but not in this current state, so is your relative present play a bigger role or is just another part of the puzzle?

I'm not sure that I live my life for happiness, I think I've lived it so far mostly for goodness, to do what's right. But "rightness" is relative still, so should this life we all live be so self-centered? I think other people need to be considered otherwise you're a complete narcissist. What's right for me isn't necessarily right for the whole. It creates a disconnect for me, this world is a shared resource and part of what it means to be human is to rub elbows with each other...as annoying as it is. Yet, parents in the US all raise their children to be happy, many Asian cultures raise their children to be successful, I think I want to grow up being balanced...but that sounds so conservative. I'm not sure what the answer is, but it seems like a cycle is ending and something needs to change, it's just a matter of finding out what that is. I guess time will tell.

Last Wednesday I set out on my first trip to Europe that lasted about 6 days and returned me to the States on Monday evening. It was a mix of modes to get there, but eventually we got there. I traveled with my good friend Jonathan and we left from Chicago and flew to Frankfurt where we had a brief layover before we flew to Lyon, France. (The flight to from Frankfurt to Lyon takes you over the Alps and in a word, it's majestic) One oddity was that there was no customs check in Frankfurt, no forms to fill out, no questions, just a look at the passport and a stamp. Danke.

Once we got to Lyon, the real adventure began we needed to get on a bus from the airport to the train station to take us to the next town, problem is none of us speak French. Since someone let me borrow a phrasebook, I was designated as the translator for the trip, which later proved stressful. I began most of my sentences with "Parlevouz Angle?" or "Do you speak English?" - when I was saved it was magic, when I wasn't hilarity ensued. Luckily, many people spoke English even though in true French style, they still stared at me with discontent as I tried to speak their language. Lyon, which is one of the three major cities in France (Paris, Mason and Lyon), is known as the Food Capital of France, unfortunately since we were just passing through we weren't able to experience much of it. We essentially just took a bus through the city to our train that took us to the city of Macon. There were able to get our first taste of French dining. We made our way to a small creperie where it seemed only locales ate, there I practiced my French while townspeople stared and Jonathan helped by providing a laugh-track behind the whole interaction. Good thing God gave me fingers to point to what I wanted. From there on out, like a predator that senses a weakness, "my friend" made it his mission to get me to speak to as many people in French as possible...every pastry shop we passed he all of a sudden would NEED to have something. BUT, it gave me a good reason to practice...I got REAL good at asking if people spoke English.

After Macon, we hopped a bus to head to Taize, where we stayed a majority of our time. The experience in Taize is a completely different entry, but it was certainly a unique adventure. During our stay at Taize, we journeyed out to the close-by town of Cluny, where there is an Abbey that the town is built around. This Abbey was originally constructed in 910 AD and has a lot of history around it. From the later half of the 10th century through the mid-12th century, it was the grandest and most prestigious monastic institution in Europe. It contained a library that was the finest in France and arguably all of Europe. During revolutions in 1790, much of the Abbey was destroyed and many valuable manuscripts and archives were lost. It was really interesting to be in a town with such rich history.

While visiting Cluny, we enjoyed a great lunch and walked up the street to a wine shop where upon my poor attempt at speaking with the shop owner resulted in her telling me that she was American. Alice, had been living in France for more than 20 years and for the majority has been running the wine store. She helped us pick out some good choices and after we asked her where we might buy a US-to-France plug converter offered to drive us to the local hardware shop. She was so nice and was really indicative of the type of people we met along the way. Although the French can be sticklers for their love of their language (and rightfully so, it's beautiful) I found that they were very welcoming and generous people. Kind of the opposite of the American stereotype. Perhaps I just got lucky or maybe I didn't take it personally, but I found the people I met there to be quite friendly.

After seeing the rural side of France for a while, we took a train to Dijon - where we got some mustard, and the caught a TGV to Paris, which I'll write more about later...

Television as I get older seems less and less entertaining, but the other day I stumbled upon a channel called Palladia, which is owned by MTV, but actually aires music and music-related content. Well, they were showing footage from Glastonbury 2008 and I watched a few acts when this english band called Elbow came on. They performed a song called "One Day Like This" and I was really intrigued by the performance. For one, the entire ensemble, which included an assortment of stringed instruments seemed to be enjoying performed as much as the crowd enjoyed listening to them. It was a treat to see the true nature of these types of festivals.

At any rate, the song caught my ear so just yesterday I got their latest album entitled The Seldom Seen Kid. Right now I am giving it its maiden voyage through my iPod and it's pretty interesting. I really love the song I got the album for but the rest of it has a strong presence. I'm not usually into such poppy stuff, but it's not commercial "pop" as in popular, but as in beat. Maybe "rhythmic" would be a better term or even "bouncy" at times. It's tender moments are not lost though. I guess what I'm saying is that if I were at Glastonbury, I would try to see these guys. Maybe you should check them out too.

So there has been this thing floating around Facebook called "25 things about yourself" or some variation thereof. Well, honestly I was getting a little depressed that none of my friends had tagged me in the note. I thought, well maybe they didn't think I wanted to do it to a more depressing thought like what if nobody things there are 25 interesting things about me. I was convinced this was the case, but then my friend tagged me and now I think I convinced myself so much that there isn't much to say that I can't think of 25 things to say. So, now I'm rejecting this movement and claiming independence from the conformists. It's all about protecting my ego.

I've been thinking of memories a lot lately, what it means to have them and what it means to lose them. There has been a constant battle within myself to strive for a good memory but continually fail at achieving the goal. Many smarter people before me have consulted the idea of what we become if we have no memory, it's written in books and played out on movie screens and more than seemingly with a haunting note on what a scary world it would be without these treasures.

So, what would we be without memories? How would you know how you should act if you didn't remember the rules, how you know what kind of person you are if you could remember how you've acted in the past, how would you know right from wrong? Could you truly love something if you had no context for it's existence or would it let you love more honestly? History always defines our future whether we want it to or not.

My biggest fear growing up was the fear of being forgotten. Perhaps there are slightly narcissistic motives here in that I want my memories to live on in the hearts of my valued relationships, but I think there's more to it. If you become forgotten, the memory of you is gone and without memory there is no record and without record can you even know that what you've done in your life is worthy of attention? To me, it's a matter of value, it's a matter of significance and it's a matter of knowing that you've done something in this life worth passing on. It can be as small as a compliment or as grand as a sacrifice, but when we fade to dust, I hope there is something that we leave that's worth remembering.