Pink versus magenta

I'm thinking about perspective; about ways of thinking about things, seeing things, understanding things.

If I've learned a single thing from my horrific math class it's that if you shoot a single concept through a prism, it can be explained twenty different ways. "I never looked at it that way, but if that works for you . . ."

Certain words resonate with me that don't pluck the same heart strings in you. Things go over my head that cut to the heart with you. The connotations I find in a word, or a phrase, or a symbol, or an expression . . . they're not always the same as the meaning you find. Which is all right. I'm not making any value judgments here. I just think it's interesting. I'm wondering at it right now. Healthy awe and all that jazz.

[See?]

I have a drawer full of glasses. Spectacles, you see, not tumblers. I yank open the drawer, and rifle through the pairs, trying on this one and that one . . . and some pairs I keep on for a while. Some I whip on and off. Some I throw out, or some I tuck away for a later day. I cycle through these pairs of glasses, looking at ideas and situations and the world through a mindset not wholly my own, and these glasses give me meanings and judgments and values, a point of reference. When I wear X glasses, X is how it is. And I'm always trying on glasses.

Because I can't see anything without a point of reference. Both literally and metaphorically. Not that I really expect my metaphor to be effective. It jives with what's in my head right now, and I can't step outside of myself long enough to explain fully and objectively what I mean. [Well. You know. A working meaning of objective.] I only mean that, I don't care about communicating effectively now, only expressing for my own sake. Because I ought to be studying, but I hate what absorbing some of these concepts is making me see.

Excuse me while I go drown in my own muddled reflections on the relativity of expression and meaning. I mean, study. Excuse me while I go study.