Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be satisfied. I like to think that all people live their lives trying to move in a steady forward-direction. But I can only really speak for myself when I say my primary goal in life is to continually be better.
But "better" is completely subjective. I've learned from knowing other people that being "better" might simply mean settling for what's comfortable and familiar. In other cases, "better" might just mean earning a lot of money, being mom of the year or becoming the foremost expert in some random academic field. Maybe "better" is numbing yourself with drugs until you've reached insanity or complaining about everything you DON'T have until everyone in the world can hear you. Maybe "better" is just losing 10 pounds. Like I said, it's completely subjective.
"Better" for me has become much less quantifiable in recent months. As a kid, it's so much easier to see everything in the short term - to set easily attainable goals like earning a place on the dean's list or saving enough allowance to buy a new gameboy.
Adults have it much harder - especially living in a culture like this one, where virtually everything is measured by financial wealth... and the constant accumulation of new material desires just gives way to a parallel accumulation of new frustrations.
We go to school longer to get better jobs, to get paid more money, to have the ability to consume more - whether it be for a new wardrobe, a new house, or new "comforts" for our children. It doesn't matter what it is - in the end, everything that motivates us these days can be broken down to a distorted view of happiness and reality.
I've been thinking about my life experiences a lot lately. And I'm starting to wonder if all these things that I do - my constant need to excel and my continual desire for experiencing NEW things - are nothing but cultural abstractions. And if that's the case, is there anything really WRONG with that? Or is it just a fact of life to be accepted? Is my goal to be "better" just a way for me to run away from reality?
I don't really where all of this is coming from. Maybe it's just a part of growing older. I don't know what I'm going to want when this whole London thing is over, because this WAS precisely what I've wanted for years. And now that I'm living it, I'm starting to feel another existential crisis coming on. Not right now... but soon, I'm sure.
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label introspection. Show all posts
Monday, February 23, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Past and Pending
Some people might not know this about me, but I spent about 4 years of my adolescence performing with a cultural Filipino dance troupe called Fil-Am. Come to think of it, I was a pretty active teenager with lots of extra-curricular activities to pass the time: choir, drama, speech & debate, volunteering with children & the homeless, and of course, the filipino dancing (just to name a few). It was a really great time in my life - fun and full of purpose, always with the goal of being exceptional at whatever I attempted.
The dancing was a great life lesson for me, because it gave me the opportunity to get in touch with my roots - a connection that was virtually missing, from living in a mostly-white suburban town in California. So I learned how to dance with fans and tambourines, how to roll on the floor gracefully while balancing glasses on my head that were filled halfway with wine, how to avoid getting my ankles caught between sticks of bamboo while hopping around to the ringing sound of 14-string bandurrias.
I got a lot of practice speaking tagalog, and even learned some of the traditional songs (one of which I actually earned a solo for during our shows). I wore the traditional dresses of my ancestors, learned about the different regions of the Philippines, and discovered an honest sense of pride for where I came from.
This experience also led me to my first real trip abroad- when our troupe was invited to an international cultural dance festival in Marseilles, France. It was 1997, and that was the trip that changed my life... it gave me a small taste of the outside and showed me a world full of amazing cultures. I met so many people during that festival: cultural dancers from France, Turkey, Laos, Brazil, Scotland, Germany, the Ivory Coast, and so many others I know I'm leaving out.
Recently, with the help of facebook, I've gotten back in touch with some of the old dancers from my troupe. Many of them are married with children now - which is a strange reality to face when I think back on all our teenage shenanigans. I remember all of us being so excited about being able to drink wine in France... without our parents there to forbid us.
And now we're all grown up, but we all collectively share this period of time where we grew closer to each other and to our heritage. Its weird to think now about the real, tangible impact this period of my life made on me. Up until that point, I think I struggled a bit with my identity. I was always different from my friends... I had a darker skin-tone and hair-color, ate weird food, had a strange language and practiced traditions that were alien to everyone else.
But after that time, I understood my uniqueness and learned how to embrace it. And when I really think about it, it gave me a significant foundation for who I am today. It makes perfect sense that I have a passion for travel, a knack for understanding peoples' differences, a genuine love for people and the consistent desire for the extraordinary.
The past is a funny thing when it actually becomes "the past". Because while you're in the middle of a life-changing experience, you're never quite sure how it will impact you in the long run. And then suddenly, perhaps 10 years or more down the line, you start to understand how it's shaped you.
I don't know about you, but it always seems to be the good things about the past that find their way back out in my memories - the experiences that make me better and take me closer to my ideal. So I wonder... I know that being here in London is something very heavy. It's impact on me might not manifest itself right away - but I can only hope that it'll take me further in the right direction.
The dancing was a great life lesson for me, because it gave me the opportunity to get in touch with my roots - a connection that was virtually missing, from living in a mostly-white suburban town in California. So I learned how to dance with fans and tambourines, how to roll on the floor gracefully while balancing glasses on my head that were filled halfway with wine, how to avoid getting my ankles caught between sticks of bamboo while hopping around to the ringing sound of 14-string bandurrias.
I got a lot of practice speaking tagalog, and even learned some of the traditional songs (one of which I actually earned a solo for during our shows). I wore the traditional dresses of my ancestors, learned about the different regions of the Philippines, and discovered an honest sense of pride for where I came from.
This experience also led me to my first real trip abroad- when our troupe was invited to an international cultural dance festival in Marseilles, France. It was 1997, and that was the trip that changed my life... it gave me a small taste of the outside and showed me a world full of amazing cultures. I met so many people during that festival: cultural dancers from France, Turkey, Laos, Brazil, Scotland, Germany, the Ivory Coast, and so many others I know I'm leaving out.
Recently, with the help of facebook, I've gotten back in touch with some of the old dancers from my troupe. Many of them are married with children now - which is a strange reality to face when I think back on all our teenage shenanigans. I remember all of us being so excited about being able to drink wine in France... without our parents there to forbid us.
And now we're all grown up, but we all collectively share this period of time where we grew closer to each other and to our heritage. Its weird to think now about the real, tangible impact this period of my life made on me. Up until that point, I think I struggled a bit with my identity. I was always different from my friends... I had a darker skin-tone and hair-color, ate weird food, had a strange language and practiced traditions that were alien to everyone else.
But after that time, I understood my uniqueness and learned how to embrace it. And when I really think about it, it gave me a significant foundation for who I am today. It makes perfect sense that I have a passion for travel, a knack for understanding peoples' differences, a genuine love for people and the consistent desire for the extraordinary.
The past is a funny thing when it actually becomes "the past". Because while you're in the middle of a life-changing experience, you're never quite sure how it will impact you in the long run. And then suddenly, perhaps 10 years or more down the line, you start to understand how it's shaped you.
I don't know about you, but it always seems to be the good things about the past that find their way back out in my memories - the experiences that make me better and take me closer to my ideal. So I wonder... I know that being here in London is something very heavy. It's impact on me might not manifest itself right away - but I can only hope that it'll take me further in the right direction.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself
I'm not the best when it comes to stamina. Some aspects of life are much easier to endure for the long-term than others..
Friendships, for example, come naturally to me because I thoroughly enjoy surrounding myself with good people. Being close to family is similar. So that kind of commitment is easy enough. Romantic relationships, although they are much more difficult to keep up with (because that type of need is still something I'm trying to work on), are also not THAT big of a commitment problem once I'm already in it. But the point is, for the most part, committing to other people seems to be much easier than committing to myself.
When it comes to other things... things that only require me to answer to myself... that's the hard part. Because who's gonna' be mad at me when I slip up? Nobody but myself, which maybe counter-intuitively, makes it less important than everything else.
But, there are things about me that annoy me, even if nobody else would care... Some examples?
The way I start reading some books and give up halfway through. I don't always do that. In fact, I get really really obsessed with some books. BUT, I'm talking about the ones that I always mean to read... but end up letting them collect dust on my shelf. Then years will go by... and I just end up re-reading Harry Potter five or six more times instead of ever trying to finish. At this point, I'll probably end up re-reading the entire Twilight series again before I ever finish the last 50 pages of Atlas Shrugged.
Then, there's the way I let random things just pile up in my drawers.. because that's much easier than continually sorting through what can be thrown away.
There's also my severe procrastination in doing things to enhance my resume. I guess my work experience is good enough to get me a good-enough job. But I should be more proactive with my future. I think I'm using school as an excuse to be lazy, so I can press pause on the real world once again. There's a reason it took me 8 years to get my b.a., and it's not just because I'm a single mom.
Basically, my main problem is about NOT finishing things I've started.
I started taking jazz piano lessons once... and never followed through again.
I can't keep a job for more than a year on average without getting severely bored. Becky likes to call it serial-jobbing.
I take up hobbies that I NEVER become an expert at... i.e., photography, culinary arts, web zines, knitting & crocheting, painting, song-writing, sewing, scrap-booking, etc. (Jack of all trades but a master of none)
I joined a gym... but could never bring myself to go regularly except for short periods of 2 or 3 months at most when I'm feeling fat. Not so much unhealthy, but fat.
I decide to move to London for a year... but will probably end up coming back 3 months early because loneliness is my most debilitating disease.
I desire a lot... but usually don't endure enough to get what I want completely. So I find myself in an interesting predicament. I'm here to get my master's degree - and I know I'll get it (because I'm not doing it solely for myself). But since I'm basically resolving to be a better person, I want to learn how to endure... not just for other people, but for myself.
Which brings me to one little thing that I've committed myself to doing. I copied Liana by joining National Blog Posting Month- otherwise known as NaBloPoMo (which she did for November of 2008), except I'm doing it for the month of February. I have to post a blog entry every day for the entire month. Coincidentally, the theme for February 2009 is "want."
Sounds simple enough... this will be my personal goal for starting a life of endurance. One small step towards better habits... I already know it'll be a bit of a challenge (since I'll be away from my computer for the entirety of Valentine's Day weekend), but I'll figure out how to deal with that when I get to it.
And so it begins...
Friendships, for example, come naturally to me because I thoroughly enjoy surrounding myself with good people. Being close to family is similar. So that kind of commitment is easy enough. Romantic relationships, although they are much more difficult to keep up with (because that type of need is still something I'm trying to work on), are also not THAT big of a commitment problem once I'm already in it. But the point is, for the most part, committing to other people seems to be much easier than committing to myself.
When it comes to other things... things that only require me to answer to myself... that's the hard part. Because who's gonna' be mad at me when I slip up? Nobody but myself, which maybe counter-intuitively, makes it less important than everything else.
But, there are things about me that annoy me, even if nobody else would care... Some examples?
The way I start reading some books and give up halfway through. I don't always do that. In fact, I get really really obsessed with some books. BUT, I'm talking about the ones that I always mean to read... but end up letting them collect dust on my shelf. Then years will go by... and I just end up re-reading Harry Potter five or six more times instead of ever trying to finish. At this point, I'll probably end up re-reading the entire Twilight series again before I ever finish the last 50 pages of Atlas Shrugged.
Then, there's the way I let random things just pile up in my drawers.. because that's much easier than continually sorting through what can be thrown away.
There's also my severe procrastination in doing things to enhance my resume. I guess my work experience is good enough to get me a good-enough job. But I should be more proactive with my future. I think I'm using school as an excuse to be lazy, so I can press pause on the real world once again. There's a reason it took me 8 years to get my b.a., and it's not just because I'm a single mom.
Basically, my main problem is about NOT finishing things I've started.
I started taking jazz piano lessons once... and never followed through again.
I can't keep a job for more than a year on average without getting severely bored. Becky likes to call it serial-jobbing.
I take up hobbies that I NEVER become an expert at... i.e., photography, culinary arts, web zines, knitting & crocheting, painting, song-writing, sewing, scrap-booking, etc. (Jack of all trades but a master of none)
I joined a gym... but could never bring myself to go regularly except for short periods of 2 or 3 months at most when I'm feeling fat. Not so much unhealthy, but fat.
I decide to move to London for a year... but will probably end up coming back 3 months early because loneliness is my most debilitating disease.
I desire a lot... but usually don't endure enough to get what I want completely. So I find myself in an interesting predicament. I'm here to get my master's degree - and I know I'll get it (because I'm not doing it solely for myself). But since I'm basically resolving to be a better person, I want to learn how to endure... not just for other people, but for myself.
Which brings me to one little thing that I've committed myself to doing. I copied Liana by joining National Blog Posting Month- otherwise known as NaBloPoMo (which she did for November of 2008), except I'm doing it for the month of February. I have to post a blog entry every day for the entire month. Coincidentally, the theme for February 2009 is "want."
Sounds simple enough... this will be my personal goal for starting a life of endurance. One small step towards better habits... I already know it'll be a bit of a challenge (since I'll be away from my computer for the entirety of Valentine's Day weekend), but I'll figure out how to deal with that when I get to it.
And so it begins...
Saturday, December 27, 2008
XVIII: Christmas is all around
Christmas just isn't the same without family. And until this point in my life, I've always been so used to the epic family parties and goofy traditions (like the annual talent show), that it was always easy to take it for granted.
But this year, being in London away from so many people that I love, I found myself thinking about family quite a lot - giving presents at midnight, karaoke with the cousins, eating lots of filipino food... even the little idiosyncrasies like how certain family members would always fall asleep on the couch or stay glued to the television. These things were never a big deal before - but now the memories have become so endearing, particularly because my participation in this year's family party was reduced to an online Skype appearance. Which reminds me... I should really thank my uncle for including my digital face in the Christmas pictures.
I think a huge part of the seasonal cheer over the last few weeks just seemed to be absent around me, despite all the Christmas decorations and holiday greetings everywhere. I've had a consistent stream of coursework to do and nothing really familiar or worthwhile to distract me. (Reality TV is not my idea of a worthwhile distraction... more like an act of desperation). So again, like Thanksgiving, I was really missing people. And if it weren't for Kim coming down to London for the week, I probably would've been in quite the rut.
It helps that there are two of us here going through the same thing. And so we made sure to make it as special as we could... even though we both sort of agreed that it didn't exactly feel like Christmas.
Anyway, we didn't do too much over the last week. We barely even left the house. But at least we went out to see the Christmas Market in Hyde Park.
And discovered a 2-story Tesco near Earl's Court where we bought most of the ingredients for our Christmas feast.
Then for Christmas Eve/Day... we cooked... and ate... and ate some more... and cooked some more... and watched a TON of movies in between.
Christmas Eve
Christmas Day
This morning's breakfast:
There was actually much more food involved than what is pictured here... but I didn't do a very good job of being photographer this week.
Besides realizing that "Father of the Bride 2" was on TV today, the highlight of our week was probably when we exchanged gifts and discovered that we had gotten each other (at least) the first book of the Twilight series. Could we be any more nerdy? (BTW- this picture was taken after a very long day of cooking and eating).
All in all it's been an interesting ride. If nothing else, Kim and I discovered how extra-fabulous we are when we're in the kitchen together, or when we decide to make music videos of us lip syncing Christmas songs to send to everyone as a holiday greeting.
We've received a lot of life-changing news from people in the last few days, the best of which (in my opinion) involving Becky's Christmas Day engagement. And now that it's nearing the end of the year, I'm beginning to look back at 2008 with a sense of awe, for so much that has happened to us and the people we care about in the last 12 months. It's been intense... and the holidays have really reminded me to be grateful for all the amazing things that have taken place this year.
I think I might be ready to welcome 2009 with open arms... but I'll save my thoughts on this for another blog entry in a couple weeks.
I know this will be my last entry of the year.. because as I type Shawn and James are en-route to London to meet me and Kim. Tomorrow night, we'll all be heading to Edinburgh to bring in the New Year.
With that said, I'll end on one last thing:
I love you...
See you in 2009.
But this year, being in London away from so many people that I love, I found myself thinking about family quite a lot - giving presents at midnight, karaoke with the cousins, eating lots of filipino food... even the little idiosyncrasies like how certain family members would always fall asleep on the couch or stay glued to the television. These things were never a big deal before - but now the memories have become so endearing, particularly because my participation in this year's family party was reduced to an online Skype appearance. Which reminds me... I should really thank my uncle for including my digital face in the Christmas pictures.
I think a huge part of the seasonal cheer over the last few weeks just seemed to be absent around me, despite all the Christmas decorations and holiday greetings everywhere. I've had a consistent stream of coursework to do and nothing really familiar or worthwhile to distract me. (Reality TV is not my idea of a worthwhile distraction... more like an act of desperation). So again, like Thanksgiving, I was really missing people. And if it weren't for Kim coming down to London for the week, I probably would've been in quite the rut.
It helps that there are two of us here going through the same thing. And so we made sure to make it as special as we could... even though we both sort of agreed that it didn't exactly feel like Christmas.
Anyway, we didn't do too much over the last week. We barely even left the house. But at least we went out to see the Christmas Market in Hyde Park.
And discovered a 2-story Tesco near Earl's Court where we bought most of the ingredients for our Christmas feast.
Then for Christmas Eve/Day... we cooked... and ate... and ate some more... and cooked some more... and watched a TON of movies in between.
Christmas Eve
Christmas Day
This morning's breakfast:
There was actually much more food involved than what is pictured here... but I didn't do a very good job of being photographer this week.
Besides realizing that "Father of the Bride 2" was on TV today, the highlight of our week was probably when we exchanged gifts and discovered that we had gotten each other (at least) the first book of the Twilight series. Could we be any more nerdy? (BTW- this picture was taken after a very long day of cooking and eating).
All in all it's been an interesting ride. If nothing else, Kim and I discovered how extra-fabulous we are when we're in the kitchen together, or when we decide to make music videos of us lip syncing Christmas songs to send to everyone as a holiday greeting.
We've received a lot of life-changing news from people in the last few days, the best of which (in my opinion) involving Becky's Christmas Day engagement. And now that it's nearing the end of the year, I'm beginning to look back at 2008 with a sense of awe, for so much that has happened to us and the people we care about in the last 12 months. It's been intense... and the holidays have really reminded me to be grateful for all the amazing things that have taken place this year.
I think I might be ready to welcome 2009 with open arms... but I'll save my thoughts on this for another blog entry in a couple weeks.
I know this will be my last entry of the year.. because as I type Shawn and James are en-route to London to meet me and Kim. Tomorrow night, we'll all be heading to Edinburgh to bring in the New Year.
With that said, I'll end on one last thing:
I love you...
See you in 2009.
Friday, October 3, 2008
V: Not the Same
As a born-and-raised suburbanite from California, I've recently discovered that relocating to a major metropolitan city in another country, by myself nonetheless, is probably the most "hands-on" lesson in social and practical survival I could ever get in my life. I'm just under three weeks into my move and already I've jumped head-first into an entire slew of both culturally and socially awkward, and borderline uncomfortable, scenarios. But hey, wasn't that (academic and personal growth) the point?
I've been thinking about this entry every day for the past week- slowly trying to formulate a cohesive personal essay about everything that's been happening - without letting it turn into some "travel guide" type of story. Because on the surface, I just keep going to new places and meeting new people. I could easily tell you all about them... how great they are, how Londonesque and unique everything is, but I think it's about time that I actually put some serious thought into things.
I was heading eastbound on the 254 bus earlier when, during a routine stop at Finsbury Park station, all the lights in the bus shut down and the engine came to a defeating halt. From my seat on the second level of the double-decker, I heard the stressful pleading of the bus driver, who was yelling at a woman about how she entered through the back door. Apparently, the woman had neither ticket nor Oyster Card to make her journey valid and she was trying to sneak on for a ride.
Immediately, I heard the woman's screeching voice in her British accent, "Don't speak to me in that tone, young man. Stop shouting at me! Don't shout at me!" After about 5 minutes of arguing, because other passengers of the bus started booing and yelling in unison at this woman, she finally decided to step out... and we were on our way. For some weird reason, this little incident struck me and so I spent the rest of the bus journey (roughly 10 minutes) thinking about WHY.
Ethically speaking, I couldn't really tell who was in the wrong here. Yeah, for obvious reasons she shouldn't have sneaked on. But at the same time, how do we know that she's not in a tight financial spot or that she simply left her wallet at home? Maybe she was having one of those days where everything was just going wrong. Maybe the bus driver should have just let the 2 "quid" go and given this woman a break. After all, it's JUST a bus ride.
And then it came to me. In some off-the-wall kind of way, I actually empathized with her. But not because of the bus driver's yelling. It was because the majority of the other passengers exploded in uproar and very loudly ostracized this woman for one little social slip-up. Public transportation here, like so many other things in a major city, acts like a well-oiled machine. And when one little cog falls out of place, it's as if the entire thing comes crashing down.
I'm sure this kind of thing happens all the time in big cities, whether it be San Francisco, New York, Paris or Tokyo. But maybe because it's finally starting to hit me that I, for the first time in my life, have completely broken out of my comfort zone and actually MOVED to London, I'm starting to get an idea of what it's like to be on my own with no convenient safety net. Don't get me wrong, I know I can count on family in the event of an emergency. But, (while recent events that I don't need to go into detail about now will attest to this) it's just NOT that EASY. Largely, I'm left alone here to fend for myself.
For example, up until this point in my life, I've always had someone within arm's reach to run to when I've had a bad day or need a hug. And right now, the distance and time difference just doesn't permit that.
If that bus scenario had happened back home, and if I was in my car waiting for this bus to move out of the way, I would've been just as irritated as those passengers. But my reaction to it now proves one thing: my perception on life and myself has already started to change.
And along with that comes another sort of epiphany... here comes the wrap-around to that "lesson in social and practical survival" I mentioned earlier. Whether I want to or not, I have to change too, in order to keep in balance with the change in my perception.
This idea has already manifested itself plenty of times since I've arrived here. In order to adapt the way I want to, I've been forced to do so many things that are just totally awkward and uncharacteristic of me...
Like meeting up for dinner with someone who's virtually a stranger, basically because we have a mutual friend. Normally, when you meet a friend of a friend, the mutual friend is around to introduce you. But in this case, I had to suck up my people-anxiety, make the phone call and then actually show up at the tube station on time with the hopes of recognizing her amongst the crowd... equipped only with a description of "I have long black hair, I tend to wear mostly black and white, and I have a severe fringe." If all else fails, we'll talk about what we have in common: our mutual friend.
Fortunately, this little meeting of ours turned out to be a complete success, at least in my opinion. There was no awkwardness at all... and since then, we've eaten fish cakes together, gone on an interesting hunt for a fee-free ATM, almost attempted to con a junk/antique shop owner into selling us a tiny French compass for £10 instead of £20, window-shopped during the Sunday-only market of Columbia Street, and secured some tickets to see Gogol Bordello in December.
We also took this picture (for our mutual friend):
Speaking of dinners... Even though I live in a house full of people, we still all keep to ourselves most of the time, unless we run into each other in the kitchens or there's actually some sort of organized social night. So having said that, I've had to practice either cooking for one or, if my refrigerator isn't stocked with anything good, go out to eat alone.
And going out by myself happens fairly often, because without a car, it's an incredible pain to do any substantive grocery shopping. Here's the common scenario: I have plenty of rice in the cupboard but I've run out of everything else... and if I'm in Central London... it'll take me 40 minutes to get home... then I have to buy groceries... then cook them... and THEN eat. But wait, Carnaby Street is just right here with plenty of little restaurants. Hmmm...
Eating lunch by yourself is never really a big deal; I did it all the time back home. But there's something kind of lonely about eating dinner alone in a restaurant full of people. THAT is something I never really did, and whenever I would go out with friends or family for dinner, I'd always feel a little bad for that guy sitting in the corner by himself. So now, it's me... sitting at the little table with my book, because somehow this makes me feel less awkward, even though there are groups of people laughing with each other all around me. Awww.
But this whole "eating dinner by myself" complex, I've come to realize, is really just me being overly self-conscious. Of course it would be nice to have some company, but really it's not much different from being at home, alone in the kitchen in front of the TV. So maybe it's not that bad after all, or maybe I'm just trying to justify it. I'm still not really sure. All I know is that back home, I would've taken the food to go before choosing to sit alone for dinner. But here, without a car, that's just not practical.
So I suppose it's really the little, but all the while necessary, things that are beginning to take their toll on me. I keep toying with the idea of getting a part-time job because it really is SUPER EXPENSIVE to live out here. But will that interfere with school? Will that turn me into a lame work-horse with no free time to explore the city? Or will it actually BE the experience I want to have here? And will the extra cash really be worth it? I just don't know.
Then, there's the fact that I now live with a bunch of strangers as well. My whole life, I've been used to living with family, with exception to the year or two I spent living with my best friend. But somehow, I've managed to adapt to this quite easily - and that surprises me because deep inside, I always thought I was such a coward and incapable of jumping into something like this.
Now, a few of us (Chris from the midlands, Anika from Germany, Simon from Yorkshire and I) have got a bit of close-knit rapport going. This leads us to nights like this where we play Texas Hold'Em in my room with cereal, peanuts and matches (because our silly landlord "Mak'd" Chris' poker chips and they are nowhere to be found).
I happened to win this hand with the high flush:
Then, there's adjusting to post-graduate British Academia. I finally had some important things to do this last week in terms of beginning my course. I went to the Regent Street campus on Thursday for my official enrollment and induction session. It was so formal AND informal at the same time, that I found myself thinking about whether this really was school and not just a bunch of like-minded individuals talking about things we like about culture.
It all seems a little too good to be true... and it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, but extremely excited nonetheless. There are only about 10 people on my course, all girls and one guy. How lucky for him. But this doesn't say too much about the course itself, because the faculty is all made up of men and one woman.
Anyway, we basically all sat in a room together while the faculty talked about their courses... and then they said, "okay, so go ahead and pick your modules." Aside from the 3 mandatory classes, I had to choose 4 optional courses from a list of only six. In the end, I signed up for "The Human Image" and "Creative and Digital Technology" this semester. And for next semester, an internship option and the one I'm REALLY looking forward to... "Capitalism and Culture," where we get to talk about commodity fetishism and consumerism in society due to visual culture. Phew, that's a mouthful... I apologize.
The point is, this feels more like a fun personal research project than it does a master's program. But maybe that's what it's supposed to feel like?? It just seems like everything I've been experiencing in the last week has all been very counter-intuitive. It's an exciting and scary mess of events.
Well, in closing (I know this has been the longest entry ever), my conclusion is this: I know some of you will understand me when I say this... and for others, I really don't mean to annoy or alarm you. BUT, I know that when I come back home from this place, I'm not going to be exactly the same. And while that prospect might be a bit unnerving, it's the reality of the situation. So the most I can hope for is that I come back a better and wiser person than I was before, and that I can continue to share everything I have... with all of you.
I've been thinking about this entry every day for the past week- slowly trying to formulate a cohesive personal essay about everything that's been happening - without letting it turn into some "travel guide" type of story. Because on the surface, I just keep going to new places and meeting new people. I could easily tell you all about them... how great they are, how Londonesque and unique everything is, but I think it's about time that I actually put some serious thought into things.
I was heading eastbound on the 254 bus earlier when, during a routine stop at Finsbury Park station, all the lights in the bus shut down and the engine came to a defeating halt. From my seat on the second level of the double-decker, I heard the stressful pleading of the bus driver, who was yelling at a woman about how she entered through the back door. Apparently, the woman had neither ticket nor Oyster Card to make her journey valid and she was trying to sneak on for a ride.
Immediately, I heard the woman's screeching voice in her British accent, "Don't speak to me in that tone, young man. Stop shouting at me! Don't shout at me!" After about 5 minutes of arguing, because other passengers of the bus started booing and yelling in unison at this woman, she finally decided to step out... and we were on our way. For some weird reason, this little incident struck me and so I spent the rest of the bus journey (roughly 10 minutes) thinking about WHY.
Ethically speaking, I couldn't really tell who was in the wrong here. Yeah, for obvious reasons she shouldn't have sneaked on. But at the same time, how do we know that she's not in a tight financial spot or that she simply left her wallet at home? Maybe she was having one of those days where everything was just going wrong. Maybe the bus driver should have just let the 2 "quid" go and given this woman a break. After all, it's JUST a bus ride.
And then it came to me. In some off-the-wall kind of way, I actually empathized with her. But not because of the bus driver's yelling. It was because the majority of the other passengers exploded in uproar and very loudly ostracized this woman for one little social slip-up. Public transportation here, like so many other things in a major city, acts like a well-oiled machine. And when one little cog falls out of place, it's as if the entire thing comes crashing down.
I'm sure this kind of thing happens all the time in big cities, whether it be San Francisco, New York, Paris or Tokyo. But maybe because it's finally starting to hit me that I, for the first time in my life, have completely broken out of my comfort zone and actually MOVED to London, I'm starting to get an idea of what it's like to be on my own with no convenient safety net. Don't get me wrong, I know I can count on family in the event of an emergency. But, (while recent events that I don't need to go into detail about now will attest to this) it's just NOT that EASY. Largely, I'm left alone here to fend for myself.
For example, up until this point in my life, I've always had someone within arm's reach to run to when I've had a bad day or need a hug. And right now, the distance and time difference just doesn't permit that.
If that bus scenario had happened back home, and if I was in my car waiting for this bus to move out of the way, I would've been just as irritated as those passengers. But my reaction to it now proves one thing: my perception on life and myself has already started to change.
And along with that comes another sort of epiphany... here comes the wrap-around to that "lesson in social and practical survival" I mentioned earlier. Whether I want to or not, I have to change too, in order to keep in balance with the change in my perception.
This idea has already manifested itself plenty of times since I've arrived here. In order to adapt the way I want to, I've been forced to do so many things that are just totally awkward and uncharacteristic of me...
Like meeting up for dinner with someone who's virtually a stranger, basically because we have a mutual friend. Normally, when you meet a friend of a friend, the mutual friend is around to introduce you. But in this case, I had to suck up my people-anxiety, make the phone call and then actually show up at the tube station on time with the hopes of recognizing her amongst the crowd... equipped only with a description of "I have long black hair, I tend to wear mostly black and white, and I have a severe fringe." If all else fails, we'll talk about what we have in common: our mutual friend.
Fortunately, this little meeting of ours turned out to be a complete success, at least in my opinion. There was no awkwardness at all... and since then, we've eaten fish cakes together, gone on an interesting hunt for a fee-free ATM, almost attempted to con a junk/antique shop owner into selling us a tiny French compass for £10 instead of £20, window-shopped during the Sunday-only market of Columbia Street, and secured some tickets to see Gogol Bordello in December.
We also took this picture (for our mutual friend):
Speaking of dinners... Even though I live in a house full of people, we still all keep to ourselves most of the time, unless we run into each other in the kitchens or there's actually some sort of organized social night. So having said that, I've had to practice either cooking for one or, if my refrigerator isn't stocked with anything good, go out to eat alone.
And going out by myself happens fairly often, because without a car, it's an incredible pain to do any substantive grocery shopping. Here's the common scenario: I have plenty of rice in the cupboard but I've run out of everything else... and if I'm in Central London... it'll take me 40 minutes to get home... then I have to buy groceries... then cook them... and THEN eat. But wait, Carnaby Street is just right here with plenty of little restaurants. Hmmm...
Eating lunch by yourself is never really a big deal; I did it all the time back home. But there's something kind of lonely about eating dinner alone in a restaurant full of people. THAT is something I never really did, and whenever I would go out with friends or family for dinner, I'd always feel a little bad for that guy sitting in the corner by himself. So now, it's me... sitting at the little table with my book, because somehow this makes me feel less awkward, even though there are groups of people laughing with each other all around me. Awww.
But this whole "eating dinner by myself" complex, I've come to realize, is really just me being overly self-conscious. Of course it would be nice to have some company, but really it's not much different from being at home, alone in the kitchen in front of the TV. So maybe it's not that bad after all, or maybe I'm just trying to justify it. I'm still not really sure. All I know is that back home, I would've taken the food to go before choosing to sit alone for dinner. But here, without a car, that's just not practical.
So I suppose it's really the little, but all the while necessary, things that are beginning to take their toll on me. I keep toying with the idea of getting a part-time job because it really is SUPER EXPENSIVE to live out here. But will that interfere with school? Will that turn me into a lame work-horse with no free time to explore the city? Or will it actually BE the experience I want to have here? And will the extra cash really be worth it? I just don't know.
Then, there's the fact that I now live with a bunch of strangers as well. My whole life, I've been used to living with family, with exception to the year or two I spent living with my best friend. But somehow, I've managed to adapt to this quite easily - and that surprises me because deep inside, I always thought I was such a coward and incapable of jumping into something like this.
Now, a few of us (Chris from the midlands, Anika from Germany, Simon from Yorkshire and I) have got a bit of close-knit rapport going. This leads us to nights like this where we play Texas Hold'Em in my room with cereal, peanuts and matches (because our silly landlord "Mak'd" Chris' poker chips and they are nowhere to be found).
I happened to win this hand with the high flush:
Then, there's adjusting to post-graduate British Academia. I finally had some important things to do this last week in terms of beginning my course. I went to the Regent Street campus on Thursday for my official enrollment and induction session. It was so formal AND informal at the same time, that I found myself thinking about whether this really was school and not just a bunch of like-minded individuals talking about things we like about culture.
It all seems a little too good to be true... and it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, but extremely excited nonetheless. There are only about 10 people on my course, all girls and one guy. How lucky for him. But this doesn't say too much about the course itself, because the faculty is all made up of men and one woman.
Anyway, we basically all sat in a room together while the faculty talked about their courses... and then they said, "okay, so go ahead and pick your modules." Aside from the 3 mandatory classes, I had to choose 4 optional courses from a list of only six. In the end, I signed up for "The Human Image" and "Creative and Digital Technology" this semester. And for next semester, an internship option and the one I'm REALLY looking forward to... "Capitalism and Culture," where we get to talk about commodity fetishism and consumerism in society due to visual culture. Phew, that's a mouthful... I apologize.
The point is, this feels more like a fun personal research project than it does a master's program. But maybe that's what it's supposed to feel like?? It just seems like everything I've been experiencing in the last week has all been very counter-intuitive. It's an exciting and scary mess of events.
Well, in closing (I know this has been the longest entry ever), my conclusion is this: I know some of you will understand me when I say this... and for others, I really don't mean to annoy or alarm you. BUT, I know that when I come back home from this place, I'm not going to be exactly the same. And while that prospect might be a bit unnerving, it's the reality of the situation. So the most I can hope for is that I come back a better and wiser person than I was before, and that I can continue to share everything I have... with all of you.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
The phonograph that plays your favorite albums back.
I'll miss the days like this, when I'm miles away in winter winds, and your gentle voice echoes in my brain. I'll think about the time we sat hand-in-hand in the Cadillac while we watched the sun rising out of night.
You help me sink to sleep when you sing to me inside my dreams, a guitar in-hand and the tapping of your feet. I'll take the glasses off your head while you lay back in bed, and our nerves will shake from falling in so deep.
I'll be the one who waits outside for you while you drive into the street where we say our last goodnight. And when I'm gone from here, I'll remember dancing in the air and laughing as we crawled under the sheets.
Everything will change.
The summer is fleeting, and the closer I get to saying goodbye, the more important it becomes to make every passing moment count. Maybe I just wasn't paying enough attention before. Maybe expressions of love have become matters of urgency. Either way, this last weekend has got me speaking in diary lyrics and archiving mental pictures like priceless works of art.
There are some people in my life that I may just love too much. It's not a bad thing. It's overwhelming sometimes, but I'm deadly addicted to it. I want to remember everything... the prolonged hugs and the need for excess, and the way conversations keep seeming to turn heavy, as if to make up in advance for those I'll miss in the next year.
Everything will change
I want to hear you say you'll take me where you go, even if I'm gone. We'll make a new escape, I'll hold you from behind, we'll leap into a cloud.
These days will keep me near, in photographs of life where we held each other tight.
I want to take you far from the cynics in this town, and kiss you on the mouth. We'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene, start a brand new colony...
Where everything will change. We'll give ourselves new names... identities erased.
The sun will hear the grounds under our bare feet in this brand new colony.
You help me sink to sleep when you sing to me inside my dreams, a guitar in-hand and the tapping of your feet. I'll take the glasses off your head while you lay back in bed, and our nerves will shake from falling in so deep.
I'll be the one who waits outside for you while you drive into the street where we say our last goodnight. And when I'm gone from here, I'll remember dancing in the air and laughing as we crawled under the sheets.
Everything will change.
The summer is fleeting, and the closer I get to saying goodbye, the more important it becomes to make every passing moment count. Maybe I just wasn't paying enough attention before. Maybe expressions of love have become matters of urgency. Either way, this last weekend has got me speaking in diary lyrics and archiving mental pictures like priceless works of art.
There are some people in my life that I may just love too much. It's not a bad thing. It's overwhelming sometimes, but I'm deadly addicted to it. I want to remember everything... the prolonged hugs and the need for excess, and the way conversations keep seeming to turn heavy, as if to make up in advance for those I'll miss in the next year.
Everything will change
I want to hear you say you'll take me where you go, even if I'm gone. We'll make a new escape, I'll hold you from behind, we'll leap into a cloud.
These days will keep me near, in photographs of life where we held each other tight.
I want to take you far from the cynics in this town, and kiss you on the mouth. We'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene, start a brand new colony...
Where everything will change. We'll give ourselves new names... identities erased.
The sun will hear the grounds under our bare feet in this brand new colony.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Like ripples on a blank shore...
Some memories are better left hidden in the mind's eye, with no external proof that they ever occurred. Because all that exists then, is the imprint of a pure feeling, untainted by the opinions of others and undisturbed by outside words. And even if the images in my brain change over time, maybe because of unintentional exaggerations or otherwise, what still remains in the end is a permanent and somewhat intangible truth that only I, happily, can remember.
Throughout my life, I've always had an innate desire to capture memories on paper or on screen. But in serious reflection, it seems that the short instances or events that have made the MOST meaningful impacts on me can only be found in a secret file cabinet somewhere in my brain. Tucked into the little folders are the rare vulnerable glances, the quiet moments, the whispered words and speeding heartbeats, clammy hands and sweet smells... all those "senses" that trigger a much deeper connection than what they symbolize on the surface.
I think these things are the music of life. Just like how music can connect thousands of strangers in a crowded amphitheater, its the unique and intimate moments which connect us to each other; it's just a matter of listening. No matter how rich or poor we might be in the material world, or how many photographs and home videos we keep around in order to "validate" our experiences to the outside, the REAL essence of our existence is enclosed in the important memories we lock up in our souls. To hold a feeling inside your soul, is to let it wordlessly ripple into the souls of the people you come across.
I know I may come off as an idealist, with an overly-optimistic view of life. But what it really comes down to... is my belief in people. I find it much more worthwhile to focus on the small things- the emotions that come naturally and can't be manufactured or ruined by anything material. Whether the feelings are good or bad, euphoric or painful, I welcome them all because they make me whole. And it's exactly the way I want to be, because it gives me a purpose that can't be hindered by any other rules.
Even though we'll all meet our deaths one day, some maybe sooner than others, it doesn't matter if our memories are on a piece of paper or behind some thick glass screen, because connections like the ones I've felt linger on in some unseen fabric that binds us to each other. All it takes to feel connected... is to watch the ripples, rather than crash on the shore to disturb them.
Throughout my life, I've always had an innate desire to capture memories on paper or on screen. But in serious reflection, it seems that the short instances or events that have made the MOST meaningful impacts on me can only be found in a secret file cabinet somewhere in my brain. Tucked into the little folders are the rare vulnerable glances, the quiet moments, the whispered words and speeding heartbeats, clammy hands and sweet smells... all those "senses" that trigger a much deeper connection than what they symbolize on the surface.
I think these things are the music of life. Just like how music can connect thousands of strangers in a crowded amphitheater, its the unique and intimate moments which connect us to each other; it's just a matter of listening. No matter how rich or poor we might be in the material world, or how many photographs and home videos we keep around in order to "validate" our experiences to the outside, the REAL essence of our existence is enclosed in the important memories we lock up in our souls. To hold a feeling inside your soul, is to let it wordlessly ripple into the souls of the people you come across.
I know I may come off as an idealist, with an overly-optimistic view of life. But what it really comes down to... is my belief in people. I find it much more worthwhile to focus on the small things- the emotions that come naturally and can't be manufactured or ruined by anything material. Whether the feelings are good or bad, euphoric or painful, I welcome them all because they make me whole. And it's exactly the way I want to be, because it gives me a purpose that can't be hindered by any other rules.
Even though we'll all meet our deaths one day, some maybe sooner than others, it doesn't matter if our memories are on a piece of paper or behind some thick glass screen, because connections like the ones I've felt linger on in some unseen fabric that binds us to each other. All it takes to feel connected... is to watch the ripples, rather than crash on the shore to disturb them.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Something in the air
I started this year with a lot of apprehension about what I thought was to come... or to not come. The last few years have been particularly rough for me because of a plethora of personal circumstances- finishing school, adjusting to some strained friendships, suffering from small-town claustrophobia, and just having high hopes for the immediate future.
But now that I'm 8 months into the year, which have just felt like a tiny blip on my time continuum, I'm starting to realize that I'm exactly where I need to be in my life right now. Despite all the turmoil that's going on in the world around me... unexpected deaths, national political troubles, and the harshness of global circumstances, my personal life seems to be moving up at record speeds.
Just when I was starting to feel anxious about not being in school anymore and getting stuck working for a hypocritically opinionated local newspaper, I was accepted to my #1 grad school in London- one major dream being realized. With some courage and the help of some great people, I've mended a few broken friendships that I now feel REALLY WERE worth all the trouble. And I think that all I needed this whole time... was to remember that I had a genuine desire to be better and a natural need to seek out change, rather than try to cling to the past.
But if any of this teaches me one thing, it's that change truly is inevitable. And it's solely up to us how we deal with it. Positivity is not an easy thing to come by, especially when the people surrounding you are so comfortable with where they are that they try to avoid change at all costs.
Luckily for me in the past 8 months, there really is something in the air that's turning things around. While the world may be in a tough and transitionally awkward place, probably due to the handful of power-hungry politicians making all the decisions, the most important PERSONAL lesson to learn here is that you can affect everything around you by searching for what's real and learning how to be understanding instead of judgmental.
We can't fix everybody and everything, but how are we supposed to get closer to all the good if we don't start with ourselves first?
But now that I'm 8 months into the year, which have just felt like a tiny blip on my time continuum, I'm starting to realize that I'm exactly where I need to be in my life right now. Despite all the turmoil that's going on in the world around me... unexpected deaths, national political troubles, and the harshness of global circumstances, my personal life seems to be moving up at record speeds.
Just when I was starting to feel anxious about not being in school anymore and getting stuck working for a hypocritically opinionated local newspaper, I was accepted to my #1 grad school in London- one major dream being realized. With some courage and the help of some great people, I've mended a few broken friendships that I now feel REALLY WERE worth all the trouble. And I think that all I needed this whole time... was to remember that I had a genuine desire to be better and a natural need to seek out change, rather than try to cling to the past.
But if any of this teaches me one thing, it's that change truly is inevitable. And it's solely up to us how we deal with it. Positivity is not an easy thing to come by, especially when the people surrounding you are so comfortable with where they are that they try to avoid change at all costs.
Luckily for me in the past 8 months, there really is something in the air that's turning things around. While the world may be in a tough and transitionally awkward place, probably due to the handful of power-hungry politicians making all the decisions, the most important PERSONAL lesson to learn here is that you can affect everything around you by searching for what's real and learning how to be understanding instead of judgmental.
We can't fix everybody and everything, but how are we supposed to get closer to all the good if we don't start with ourselves first?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Lover In The Snow
It's hard to know where to begin when trying to describe recent events of the last week or so.
Two Thursdays ago, I was driving up to Big Bear with my friends for the weekend. That was an outrageous blur of fun. (Hence the use of my own video in lieu of an actual Rivers Cuomo video for "Lover In The Snow.")
And then we came back and I was sick for practically the whole week... while sad things happened to people I did and didn't know (RIP Devin M. and Heath Ledger). It rained a whole lot... actually, it's still raining. The sadness is just emanating from everywhere.
But despite all these up and down feelings - this weekend felt like something completely new. The last few days have been pretty great for me, partially because I've been editing the Big Bear videos... but also because it's been a weekend of birthday celebrations and good news.
Brandon got a job at United Airlines. I get to go watch presidential candidates debate each other LIVE this week.
And ready? Here's the crazy part...
The old band MAY be getting together soon to record some old songs- according to a short but sweet conversation I had earlier. Wasn't I just reminiscing about this in my last post? While I don't plan on getting my hopes up too high, I'm still gonna' allow myself to feel good about this potentiality. After all, Feb. 5, 2008 is coming up... 1 year and 3 months exactly from the date the last major life-changing thing happened to me.
For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, 1 year and 3 months is the amount of time I've determined to be my "personal cycle of life changing events." It's been a weird pattern that I've observed.
Anyway... why NOT feel good about recording the songs.. right? I was watching a documentary on John Lennon earlier and there was this part where he was being interviewed by some guy who asked if the Beatles were ever gonna' get back together. And he said "I can't really say. If we do, I'll be happy. The memories are fond and the wounds are healed." But he said that he wouldn't make the first move.
And then he was killed.
And in light of the too-close-for-comfort feelings about death I've had in the last few days, it just seems petty and stupid to let some old wounds get in the way of something beautiful. So when O. came up and gave me a hug hello earlier, I found myself blurting out to him that "hey..I wanted to call you.. but I didn't. What do you think about maybe getting together and recording some songs for old time's sake?" And he said he'd been thinking about the same thing too lately. And that made me happy.
I have a really, really good feeling about this year. I hope I'm right.
Two Thursdays ago, I was driving up to Big Bear with my friends for the weekend. That was an outrageous blur of fun. (Hence the use of my own video in lieu of an actual Rivers Cuomo video for "Lover In The Snow.")
And then we came back and I was sick for practically the whole week... while sad things happened to people I did and didn't know (RIP Devin M. and Heath Ledger). It rained a whole lot... actually, it's still raining. The sadness is just emanating from everywhere.
But despite all these up and down feelings - this weekend felt like something completely new. The last few days have been pretty great for me, partially because I've been editing the Big Bear videos... but also because it's been a weekend of birthday celebrations and good news.
Brandon got a job at United Airlines. I get to go watch presidential candidates debate each other LIVE this week.
And ready? Here's the crazy part...
The old band MAY be getting together soon to record some old songs- according to a short but sweet conversation I had earlier. Wasn't I just reminiscing about this in my last post? While I don't plan on getting my hopes up too high, I'm still gonna' allow myself to feel good about this potentiality. After all, Feb. 5, 2008 is coming up... 1 year and 3 months exactly from the date the last major life-changing thing happened to me.
For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, 1 year and 3 months is the amount of time I've determined to be my "personal cycle of life changing events." It's been a weird pattern that I've observed.
Anyway... why NOT feel good about recording the songs.. right? I was watching a documentary on John Lennon earlier and there was this part where he was being interviewed by some guy who asked if the Beatles were ever gonna' get back together. And he said "I can't really say. If we do, I'll be happy. The memories are fond and the wounds are healed." But he said that he wouldn't make the first move.
And then he was killed.
And in light of the too-close-for-comfort feelings about death I've had in the last few days, it just seems petty and stupid to let some old wounds get in the way of something beautiful. So when O. came up and gave me a hug hello earlier, I found myself blurting out to him that "hey..I wanted to call you.. but I didn't. What do you think about maybe getting together and recording some songs for old time's sake?" And he said he'd been thinking about the same thing too lately. And that made me happy.
I have a really, really good feeling about this year. I hope I'm right.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Zep's Effect on Sanity
What is it about hearing a Led Zeppelin song that makes you want to break out into a Dionysian wine dance AND jump off a cliff at the same time?
I think the fact that music is so intimately intertwined with memories (which at the time, seemed like completely mundane experiences, but are now painful reminders of what you DON'T have anymore) is just another one of God's cruel cosmic jokes.
I mean, think about it, it's just like when you're walking through a crowded place and you get a whiff of a cologne/perfume that transports you to this alternate universe where you're all of a sudden hand-in-hand with that "one that got away" or "the one that completely ripped my heart out." Then, you are rudely disappointed by the image of some horribly unattractive man/woman (or whatever have you) who is unfairly wearing the same scent that your ex wears. From that point on, your day is just completely shattered because not only have you been reminded of someone you USED to love (or perhaps still do), but now the smell is stuck in your nose and you'd give anything to just be happy and carefree again.
My point is... the basic senses that we have are not simply "basic" at all. They're tools of destruction, designed to break our spirits and kill us slowly. Sure, sure... we've been conditioned to love our senses but when you think about it - what do they truly accomplish beyond the obvious, most rudimentary survival needs? Sure, we are able to see, smell, taste, hear and feel... but beyond that, our memories use that information to torment us for the rest of our lives. And most sinisterly, that information usually comes back to us when we least expect it.
Just like Led Zeppelin. Yeah, you think they're all fun and games, and just good old rock & roll but no, hearing them is both orgasmic and terribly heartwrenching. Probably not to you... but of course they are to me (more proof of my stupid senses backfiring on me).
To support my aformentioned theory that our senses are out to kill us during our most vulnerable times, I'll tell a VERY SHORT story. I was innocently surfing myspace yesterday (please reserve your guffaw for later) when I was unexpectedly greeted by one of those new playlist things that seems to be taking over profiles left and right. Through my laptop speakers, I began to hear Jimmy Page's crunching, yet catchy, guitar intro of "Heartbreaker." I wanted to rock out and cry at the same time because of course, anything Led Zeppelin reminds me of my last boyfriend. As soon as Robert Plant started to sing, it was definitely over. Needless to say, I denied that friend request.
I am proposing a boycott - a boycott of the senses, that is. Because really, it's just not fair to be put through this kind of torture - especially when Zeppelin songs are so easily accessed via myspace.
I think the fact that music is so intimately intertwined with memories (which at the time, seemed like completely mundane experiences, but are now painful reminders of what you DON'T have anymore) is just another one of God's cruel cosmic jokes.
I mean, think about it, it's just like when you're walking through a crowded place and you get a whiff of a cologne/perfume that transports you to this alternate universe where you're all of a sudden hand-in-hand with that "one that got away" or "the one that completely ripped my heart out." Then, you are rudely disappointed by the image of some horribly unattractive man/woman (or whatever have you) who is unfairly wearing the same scent that your ex wears. From that point on, your day is just completely shattered because not only have you been reminded of someone you USED to love (or perhaps still do), but now the smell is stuck in your nose and you'd give anything to just be happy and carefree again.
My point is... the basic senses that we have are not simply "basic" at all. They're tools of destruction, designed to break our spirits and kill us slowly. Sure, sure... we've been conditioned to love our senses but when you think about it - what do they truly accomplish beyond the obvious, most rudimentary survival needs? Sure, we are able to see, smell, taste, hear and feel... but beyond that, our memories use that information to torment us for the rest of our lives. And most sinisterly, that information usually comes back to us when we least expect it.
Just like Led Zeppelin. Yeah, you think they're all fun and games, and just good old rock & roll but no, hearing them is both orgasmic and terribly heartwrenching. Probably not to you... but of course they are to me (more proof of my stupid senses backfiring on me).
To support my aformentioned theory that our senses are out to kill us during our most vulnerable times, I'll tell a VERY SHORT story. I was innocently surfing myspace yesterday (please reserve your guffaw for later) when I was unexpectedly greeted by one of those new playlist things that seems to be taking over profiles left and right. Through my laptop speakers, I began to hear Jimmy Page's crunching, yet catchy, guitar intro of "Heartbreaker." I wanted to rock out and cry at the same time because of course, anything Led Zeppelin reminds me of my last boyfriend. As soon as Robert Plant started to sing, it was definitely over. Needless to say, I denied that friend request.
I am proposing a boycott - a boycott of the senses, that is. Because really, it's just not fair to be put through this kind of torture - especially when Zeppelin songs are so easily accessed via myspace.
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