In a continuing effort to explore the universe in the vein of my last entry, I have followed some serendipitous threads that have lead me to a new, burgeoning sense of enlightenment -- same as the old sense of enlightenment, in fact, but more clear. The possibilities truly are limitless; the trick is that you've got to believe.

The universe has some interesting ways of reminding you what is true, if you're brave enough to listen.

My Creative Visualizations CD says that one of the things I should do is find songs that reinforce the view of my self that I want to have, not the songs that reinforce the one I've already got. Shakti says that it's remarkable how much of our lives -- from how we see ourselves to how we treat others -- are defined by pop music.

It's the old High Fidelity conundrum -- Do I listen to pop music because I'm miserable or am I miserable because I listen to pop music? I mean, why is it that "Eye of the Tiger" is just a fun song to listen to but "It's Not that Easy" by Liz Phair makes me tremble? Did I pick my Top 5 or did it pick me?

I'm a proponent of the theory that all you need to know about a person you can learn from his record collection. Or his favorite DVDs, or what books he keeps on his shelf. I don't know how good at decoding that information I am, but I feel certain it's there. But can you change what you want to watch/hear/read? Can you forcefeed yourself a new identity with a new media collection?

I cling to my sense of self pretty desperately. I wear blue even though maybe what I need to do is wear green. To what extend do my choices limit my possibilities? I suspect my possibilities are limitless.

It's earlier than it feels.

I think the motliest crew on the planet are the people who staff the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles License Branch at 86th and Westfield. And I do really do mean that in the nicest possible way.

While waiting in line there this evening to get title and tags on my sweet-ass new car, I encountered no less than a midget, a 500-pound woman, a girl with all chrome teeth, and a guy with this unbelievable Trump-esque combover -- all working behind the counter, and all decidedly much more eclectic than the actual customers. (I think it would make a great setting for a new sitcom.)

Some of you may be heartened to know that I was able to make it out of there without losing $50 in cash. However, all of you will despair at the fact that, when asked for my name, I accidentally let forth a big drool wad. Even the dude with the combover thought that was tacky.

Alright, I admit it: I'm super-pumped about Star Wars - Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Even though, yes, it does look like Anakin and Obi-Wan duel while surfing on lava and, yes, probably Yoda farts. I even have serious doubts that Mace Windu will be revealed as a Jedi traitor -- but so what? This is Star Wars -- the last ever! Even if it were (if this is actually possible) worse than Attack of the Clones, who cares? We owe it to Star Wars to go to that theater and to cheer when the logo blasts across the screen one last time. We even owe it to George Lucas to put our recent differences behind us and clap when his name is shown as if to say, "Thank you." Because truly without Star Wars the world would be a dimmer place.

So, thank you, George Lucas. It is because of you that I am a dreamer and that I want to share those dreams with others. Star Wars is truly magic and it has had a fundamental effect on my life in a way that no other fairytale has. Sure, you made two crappy movies but, in all honesty, I treasure them too in a way.

So if Episode III does suck, I don't care, at least not for now. No, for the next week I am a child again, mystifed and captivated by tales of heroes and villians in a galaxy far, far away. My imagination will run wild, I will engage in a ill-advised action figure buying binge, and I will wear a single black glove to work. I will wait until the last name has scrolled through the credits, until the lights in the theatre come on, and then I will bid goodbye to an old friend.

If you are like me, you have been eagerly awaiting evidance that robots are going to take over. So, you will join me in saying: "Oh shit."