Truly Random

I was looking for something last night (I do not remember what, and it does not really matter what it was), and I just kind of shrugged it of. For no reason whatsoever, other than that I was disregarding the importance of the searched for object, I thought of Calloway Kocher, sitting in my my English class, responding with a "Meh" that was trademark Calloway. I laughed a little, a pleasant chuckle at the memory of that sweet girl sitting in my class, shrugging off with a quiet smile whatever it was that she was letting roll off her that day. But then a thought struck me: Why did that thought decide to pop up its head like a mental prairie dog? It is not the first time I have wondered this. Ramdon thoughts have a tendency to push themselves into my consciousness, and the reasons for their surfacing is sometimes confusing.

I know at times these "random" thoughts are not truly random. They follow a stream of consciousness that actually hold some logic. My "Meh" thought arose because I was shrugging of something that really had little affect on me. I had given it the time and thought it deserved, and it really had not struck me vey deeply, and it was time to move on. "Meh" is the right word to convey that feeling, and for me, "Meh" will forever belong to Calloway. Not so random. Those not-so-random thoughts outnumber the truly random ones, especially if I really sit and think about them. Ask my senior English students, and the ones who pay attention should be able to corroborate this fact. I can always tell which students have truly keyed into a conversation in class when I ask the question, "How in the world did we get here?" and someone can trace the discussion from its "random" conclusion, back through its meandering mental stroll, to its often mundane genesis. Sometimes it is that journey that provides the most opportunities for thought and introspection.

Sometimes, however, I cannot trace the journey a thought or memory takes as it bubbles to the surface of my conscious mind. Why did the memory of a bunch of friends and I traipsing down to the Frisco Bridge cross at the river pop up the other day while I was beginning to doze off on the couch? Why did I hear Coach Parsons' voice on the VHS videotape of the Hoisington game my sophomore year while driving home from weights last week? Why do I suddenly have the vivid image of Grampie questioning me about climbing up the antenna tower so I could get on the roof of Nana and Grampie's house to retrieve a basketball the had bounced onto the porch roof?

One thing I have noticed about my random thoughts, at least my recent ones that I can catalogue for consideration, is that they are pleasant. Curtis Grote and Justin Gray cracking up in an honors English class that consisted of 29 girls and those to boys. Kyle Weber giving me an honest explanation for why he had chosen to spend the beginning of track practice at the high jump pit instead of the long jump run way, even though he did not high jump. Watching the final episode of Cheers in my dorm room with Heidi, just as we were beginning to date, only to have a coach knock on the door because I had failed to show up to freshman study hall, even though my midterm grades were all As. These nuggets are panned at times that do not make immediate sense.

But does that really matter?  They are memories.  They are pleasant. Does there have to be a reason for them, or can I just let them happen? Should I spend much more time trying to pin down an answer?  Probably not.

Meh.