A name

I am not particularly attached to my name. At least I do not delight in the way that it sounds when spoken aloud, or feel pride in the familial implications of the surname. However, I am at times fascinated by the idea that within a name, one possesses the representation of his identity in its purest form. Once a person becomes classified by his activities, such as the job he has, or by his features, say, by having a wide face or an athletic physique, he loses the individuality he began with and becomes a mere comparative example to people who possess similar qualities. A name represents purity—the purity of the individual. My name is Ian Thomas Lynch, and though I may not be the only person to bear this name, it still serves as a referral to my unique identity when applied in the right context, and from there, one is free to hold his own ideas of what it represents. And though it is my mission to define my name so that it becomes the most accurate representation of my identity, I refuse to embrace vague descriptions that attempt to diminish the true associations one makes when regarding my name. So when contemplating such matters as my purpose in life and what it is for me to do in order to achieve self-fulfillment and satisfaction, I often like to consider who it is exactly that will be making that action, and who will be affecting the future.

"The Windowsill" August, 7, 2008

And I fly,
The bird in the air,
There’s wind in my hair.
And through all, make haste, travel,
To those of whom you care.

There’s pain in my chest.
This city offers no consolation.
This cell provides no comfort.
If I’m not longing to be there,
I’m longing for them to be here,
Or everywhere at the same time.
“Only in dreams you see what it means”1

And I’m a sight to behold.
Though sleeping awake, I am unaware,
Or was unaware, till reality called me back.
And I see now how dreams are the escape,
The sedative, the tranquilizer,
The soft luminescence I choose to admire.

Our love, our love that transpired,
A longer duration I have left to squire,
Of youth, home, and family all quickly dissolving,
My ties to things past force me to acknowledge,
Their brevity, their dependence to that fugitive dimension,
Perpetually abandoned to life beyond apprehension,
Yet in vain do I struggle to conceive my future,
Against fate my will yearns to mold this new creature,
To a form I can recognize and proudly proclaim
It’s this I envisioned whilst alone those summer days.

1 Rivers Cuomo

Lamentation, Inspiration, avoiding only Condescension

Curse the obligations and curse the indulgences.
I miss you dearly, introspection,
But I have not the time nor the peace of mind,
To welcome you back into my life.

I miss you, too, misinterpreted confusion.
Thought to be angst,
Thought to be inexperience,
Words failed me, and I could not defend you.

I miss you most, love of life, purest life.
Appreciation of the ambient pleasures,
Directing me inward, and above.
Replaced by community attractions,
A lifestyle of distraction.

Suffered the fall,
Engaged in the struggle for security--by insecurity.
Return to me now.
I will not abandon you again.