"I teach you the superman. Man is something that is to be surpassed. What have ye done to surpass man?

All beings hitherto have created something beyond themselves: and ye want to be the eb of that great tide, and wouldrather go back to the beast than surpass man?"

-Thus Spake Zarathustra

I find, more and more often - that I am the tightrope walker.

I am no preacher. Of that much I am certain. I am no malcontent like Zarathustra to descend into the masses and attempt to rally them in enlightenment. I am not an overful cup. I am not want to be drank - proverbially or otherwise.

But lately, I've been looking around and I've been disturbed by what I've been seeing. I look around and I can't help but wonder what I'm doing with my life. Why there's so much useless shit in it.

Lately...

The conversations I have are trivial. I have all this thought to the point where when I write thought becomes clogged up - constipation of the mind. I sit to write, and my fingers won't move - too much trying to get out at the same time.

I talked to Denis the other day. The mental equivalent of fiber in my diet. And after a bit we got into a lengthy debate - as we are want to do. And it was begrugingly that I left for class. And I'm thinking - why don't I know more people like that?

I wonder what I've done to surpass myself?

I look back - that is to say I remember back to when I was young. I hadn't so many friends, but I was much more active mentally. Somewhere along the road I hit a snag and stopped moving forward. A rut isn't the right word for it, but it's the first one that comes to mind.

And lately I've been wondering - when did I make the sacrifice of mind for entertainment?

I can hear myself making excuses. For whatever holds me back. But then, it was I who always said: "Where there's a will, there's a way." And so I wonder when I lost that will.

And so I found myself a tightrope walker - like the one from Zarathustra's prologue - who found that the prophet's words applied to him, and was beset upon by a buffoon - that too was me - and I too fell.

And therein the similarity ends as I am not yet dead...