Definitely NOT the first time this has happened.
What do I want to do? I'm in art school. I'm applying for a BFA. In what? Integrated Media? Installation? Drawing and Painting? It all sounds so dull. Couldn't I do those without a BFA? Ah, but I would lack the quality of a professional. So, what do I want to be? A professional painter? Do I want to exhibit my work in shows?
Do I even want to do this? Do I need to do this? It feels like a waste all of a sudden. I want to draw comics, but this barely helps with that. I want to create work and stuff - would I do it on my own?
I'll keep my options open. I'll apply. But what to do...?
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
"Time"
Time... Time towards death? Time after death? The time it takes to decompose a body; the time it takes for a dead person to die... I like time, but I don't understand it... Does time go forward? They say that on the atomic level there is no reason that time should travel forwards and not backwards. I don't understand that. "On the atomic level"... On the atomic level all actions can be reversed, given a gigantic battery to power them. But the reverse is not the same as "going back in time" It you're doing photosynthesis in reverse, you have cellular respiration. Those aren't the same, they exist in the same direction. What about an implosion, then? Is it the opposite, or the reverse? I want, and yet dont want to read blogs on quantum physics.
What is the difference between opposite and inverse? In math its pretty easy. 2+2=4 thats the base. 2-2=0, thats the opposite, instead of adding you substract, but the basic law on which the units are based upon is the same. So you're upshifting by two, or downshifting by two, but in -(2+2) you're driving in reverse. Is this time going backwards? Photosynthesis may be the contrary of cellular respiration, but they operate within the same universe, the same "time" which flows forwards.
What am I saying? Obviously it is not possible for a process to occur backwards... My thinking is limiting time as the absolute invariable, which it is supposedly not.
Anyway. What is circular time-
Did you know? Time is a human construct. It actually slows down as you move away from earth. I can't understand the mathematics of the concept, to me it seems as though this suggests that we "created" time for ourselves, and so "time" only truly exists on our planet. At least, linear time does. In our perception.
What is linear time? Did you know? Apparently, there is a certain pattern to chance, if your randomized experiments at an infinitely great scale, you would find a pattern Apparently, computers are able to map that pattern, and it is an infinite pattern. It seems that even linear time is not actually linear. A person's day is linear: morning, noon, evening night. And then the day ends. This is how humans perceive the world. Birth, expansion, prime, deflation?, death. And there it ends. But if you look at the greater scheme of things, after death a person's body enters a variety of complex circles, gears, whatever, is broken down and then reconstructed and becomes life anew.
Did you know? They say our universe is changing temperature. It was very warm during the big bang, and now that the universe is bigger its colder. Probably, it will get small and hot again. Will that be the ultimate death? No. Everything suggests that once it is small it will once again explode. And the universe will begin anew?
Is there a set amount of matter in the universe? Is an atom indestructibe? Is an atom only indestructible on this scale? Is life like the chance grid, infinite gears turning infinitely, inside one another infinitely in both directions? What gears are atoms a part of? What gears are the universe a part of? Is an atom the same as the universe? Is this "life"? An infinite infinity of reoccurring occurrences, each following a gear with a different size? If that is how life works, then what is life? It doesn't go straight, does it? It goes round and round, again and again. Life, death... death only exists as a part of Life, a segment in the merry go round, that's colder than the rest.
How did we get here? Were we always here? What is the dawn of time in this context? We have to come from somewhere, right? Our linear mind is unable to comprehend the unending vastness that may comprise this - universe isn't vast enough of a world - this reality. TIme in our sense flows forward, but really we have no real beginning to it nor any true end to it. That's because we're so small that the gear looks flat. That's massive, man. Truly, we have our place in the universe, if it is such. Or perhaps we are meant to understand the way life works. Perhaps we have done it before... Time and time again.
[edit] Ah... so this is where the theory of parallel universes comes from. Wow, this is really old knowledge after all... I wonder, how far ahead is the government in relation to the common folk...
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
On raising children
I was in the school library and overheard a child crying. His father and he had been to the children soccer games earlier in the day and had left the child's winter shoes and his toy helicopter in the gym, where they had been locked. The father had to call in a person that had the keys on a saturday and have them open the door so that the wailing child could get his helicopter - he didn't even care about the shoes.
But if it was just for a toy, couldn't they have waited to monday? Was the child crying because he was sad, or because he wanted the helicopter? If it was the latter, then he should have learned that crying does not solve your problems in the real world - but of course the parent pulled all the stops in order to satisfy his kid. Would I have done that? Would that have been the right thing to do? In the end, the kid won't appreciate the effort his father took to please him. And he won't love his helicopter toy more. So then why?
But if it was just for a toy, couldn't they have waited to monday? Was the child crying because he was sad, or because he wanted the helicopter? If it was the latter, then he should have learned that crying does not solve your problems in the real world - but of course the parent pulled all the stops in order to satisfy his kid. Would I have done that? Would that have been the right thing to do? In the end, the kid won't appreciate the effort his father took to please him. And he won't love his helicopter toy more. So then why?
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
AMBITION
This is the level of story that I want to write. The art is excellent. The story is top notch. So far there is nothing I can criticize about it.
[edit]: I've just read half a chapter and once again I think it's amazing. Holy shit. This is a true Seinen manga, not that ecchi garbage.
[edit]: Actually I am starting to notice more than a few elements that seem to be inspired from the new Batman movies. Well, the second one, really. But I don't think that's bad...
[edit]: I had noticed for sometime that Akumetsu has many characteristics that are similar to the anime and manga Death Note, however for the sake of argument, Akumetsu vol.1 came out in 2003 while DN vol.1 came out in 2004. I feel that awesome stories should not be compared to other awesome stories. In the end, the skill of the writer (and artist) is evident in both cases.
This is my ambition as a... I suppose I would be a graphic novelist. I should read graphic novels, but they're not free. This manga however, I must purchase when I encounter it. Out of respect. Same goes for REAL. For H2, Vagabond, Cross Game. Fullmetal Alchemist fits in there too, but most everything else pales in comparison. I can't remember the names of the countless other manga I've read. Except the really popular ones. Those ones often don't deserve their ranks. But this stuff, this stuff is the shit.
THIS is my ambition.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Secret and the Me generation
Wanna hear a secret? There's a few people I secretly wish come through here occasionally to read my blog. I want them to understand what I'm thinking. I want them to know that I'm learning, bit by bit. I want them to know. About me. Me. ME! Its all about me. I write tons of meaningful things in here, or at least stuff I think is meaningful, so I want people to read it. I want everyone to carefully read through each article and really think about it. Because what I'm saying is just so goddamn important. Because I'm so goddamn important. I'm a great person, not just a decent person with a greatly overinflated ego. I'm becoming smarter, wiser, older, and it's really important that everyone find out. Come say hello to Mr-I'm-Too-Good-To-Post-On-Facebook.
But really, how does one born in this time of pampered children and war torn civilizations escape this "me" thing? It's not just consumerism. Its in *me* too. Its the way I think. How do I change the way I think? I wanna be a better person. I wanna be the best person, so everyone looks at me and thinks "he's the best person". Is that the real question you should be asking? Do you need to change the way you think? Can you do that? Hell no. Not yet, anyway.
But really, how does one born in this time of pampered children and war torn civilizations escape this "me" thing? It's not just consumerism. Its in *me* too. Its the way I think. How do I change the way I think? I wanna be a better person. I wanna be the best person, so everyone looks at me and thinks "he's the best person". Is that the real question you should be asking? Do you need to change the way you think? Can you do that? Hell no. Not yet, anyway.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
A Lesson In History, Part 2
Classes started on the first day at sea. Bruce, the director, explained that there were no days on a boat, so we had class on sunday. Our breaks were in port. Sometimes they were really long, but sometimes the sails were too. Something I realized early on was that people were different at sea than they were in port. When you're sailing, you try to put your personal feelings aside for the good of the whole. And besides, in the beginning everyone still is cheery and everyone's a friend. That changes after a while, though.
Our sail to Poland was uneventful. Classes and watch during the day, watch during the night. Getting used to the schedule took most of my energy, because I was trying to deal with seven courses. That meant 3 to 5 hours of schoolwork everyday, two hours of work during the day, and two hours of my night given for the ship. Daywatch consisted of mostly cleaning and regular maintenance, as well as surveillance and helming. (In the beginning the helmsman stayed on duty for the entire shift, which is one hour, but because some of us newbies were so incredibly terrible at helming, it became a half hour shift.) Nightwatch for Watch 4 was similarly polarized. Cathy and Gabi stood lookout. Cathy mostly on Starboard, Gabbi on Port, while Alice sat and me and the other two guys helmed. When I would get on, I would not get off, simply because I was too shy to yell to them to switch me off, despite the wind, and I was too afraid that the ship would steer off course to turn around. But we were always a good watch, and the one argument we would have over that would be short lived and would solve the matter permanently.
Our sail to Poland was uneventful. Classes and watch during the day, watch during the night. Getting used to the schedule took most of my energy, because I was trying to deal with seven courses. That meant 3 to 5 hours of schoolwork everyday, two hours of work during the day, and two hours of my night given for the ship. Daywatch consisted of mostly cleaning and regular maintenance, as well as surveillance and helming. (In the beginning the helmsman stayed on duty for the entire shift, which is one hour, but because some of us newbies were so incredibly terrible at helming, it became a half hour shift.) Nightwatch for Watch 4 was similarly polarized. Cathy and Gabi stood lookout. Cathy mostly on Starboard, Gabbi on Port, while Alice sat and me and the other two guys helmed. When I would get on, I would not get off, simply because I was too shy to yell to them to switch me off, despite the wind, and I was too afraid that the ship would steer off course to turn around. But we were always a good watch, and the one argument we would have over that would be short lived and would solve the matter permanently.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Break Me To Fix You
I was given another gem of wisdom over the break. An insight on an otherwise dark and confusing story. I said to a friend that I believed in true love; perhaps I think of it as something to be admired but not something I can achieve, indeed, everything around me points to evidence of the contrary. There is a man, or rather there is no longer a man, not even a ghost nor a shell, and he quarrels with his wife on almost every point. The man has his vision of what the world should be, and his wife has another vision. Neither can exist while the other survives. Finally the man gives up and leaves his wife and children behind. They will grow to know next to nothing of this man, not even what he looks like. Truly, not even a shell.
These three siblings grow and eventually begin to understand the truth of why their father left, but only the first truth. Why he calls them every week remains a mystery. Or perhaps not. What would life have been like for the 3 boys if both their mother and father had been present? Would they have learned to coexist? Would they have fought constantly? In the end, the father up and left his children to his wife. She has done well for them. Perhaps it is a good thing that the father left them behind. It has certainly saved his children many scrapes. But then why call every sunday morning at 11am? Why for so long? I remember not even being able to understand my father on the phone. What must it have been like, to witness the voice and thoughts of a boy you would no longer recognize as he slowly becomes a man, and know that there is nothing you can do to help him along? Those things you know, those mistakes you see him make and yet are unable to teach him what's right, why go through that. Is it really guilt? Could he feel so guilty that he would keep up his regular contact for 18 years, finally letting off when the boys begin to be old enough to really see and stand alone? Was it perhaps comforting to hear us and know that we were happy and fine? That for all the little things that bothered us meant that no great issue did.
Perhaps in the end, our father understood that the best thing he could do for us was to leave and spare us the fighting. Perhaps he then decided that, being gone, the best he could do for us was not tell us about something which, as children we would not understand. Perhaps my father loved us, loved me, and would accept being seen as the faraway villain rather than create another kind of conflict which he would have caused but would not be able to control? Perhaps in the end, I'm learning from him a kind of ultimate love, love at the expense of the self. It seems almost surreal, the kind of development that would only take place in a story. Perhaps this is the difference between the strength of a child and the strength of an adult. There is much to be admired in this new light. But you know, perhaps not. It could be that my father is just as confused and afraid as are we. But I want to believe that that is not the case. I've always wanted a father that was proud of me, and I wish for a father I can be proud of. I want to believe that the real story was something like this. It would be a kind of true love, truer than anything I've ever witnessed anyway. Perhaps its the only kind of love my father can give.
These three siblings grow and eventually begin to understand the truth of why their father left, but only the first truth. Why he calls them every week remains a mystery. Or perhaps not. What would life have been like for the 3 boys if both their mother and father had been present? Would they have learned to coexist? Would they have fought constantly? In the end, the father up and left his children to his wife. She has done well for them. Perhaps it is a good thing that the father left them behind. It has certainly saved his children many scrapes. But then why call every sunday morning at 11am? Why for so long? I remember not even being able to understand my father on the phone. What must it have been like, to witness the voice and thoughts of a boy you would no longer recognize as he slowly becomes a man, and know that there is nothing you can do to help him along? Those things you know, those mistakes you see him make and yet are unable to teach him what's right, why go through that. Is it really guilt? Could he feel so guilty that he would keep up his regular contact for 18 years, finally letting off when the boys begin to be old enough to really see and stand alone? Was it perhaps comforting to hear us and know that we were happy and fine? That for all the little things that bothered us meant that no great issue did.
Perhaps in the end, our father understood that the best thing he could do for us was to leave and spare us the fighting. Perhaps he then decided that, being gone, the best he could do for us was not tell us about something which, as children we would not understand. Perhaps my father loved us, loved me, and would accept being seen as the faraway villain rather than create another kind of conflict which he would have caused but would not be able to control? Perhaps in the end, I'm learning from him a kind of ultimate love, love at the expense of the self. It seems almost surreal, the kind of development that would only take place in a story. Perhaps this is the difference between the strength of a child and the strength of an adult. There is much to be admired in this new light. But you know, perhaps not. It could be that my father is just as confused and afraid as are we. But I want to believe that that is not the case. I've always wanted a father that was proud of me, and I wish for a father I can be proud of. I want to believe that the real story was something like this. It would be a kind of true love, truer than anything I've ever witnessed anyway. Perhaps its the only kind of love my father can give.
Monday, January 4, 2010
ONE REPUBLIC
My mom's friend - she was a really good friend of my mom for a while, supposedly, but we only met her a few years ago Anyway, this woman, everytime I meet her she forces me to change the way I think. For my own sake, I guess. But its pretty hard to take in. I guess it must feel like what I do to others. Divine Punishment, I guess.
Because I 've told many a person things I had no right to say, hurt them for more than I'm worth, unintentionally, without thinking. I think, about 3 or 4 times now. The most important thing I think she bashed this time around was me "feeling guilty" for what I've done. Making myself the victim so I don't have to go through the process of forgiving myself for something I shouldn't have done. That one hurt a lot. Not for any good reason, probably just because of my pride and this other, super important reason whose name eludes me... Its making myself look good. Telling myself "I feel guilty, so I won't do it again" "I'm such a great person despite what I said or did because I regret it" when really all I'm doing is making it easier to keep on going haphazardly, wrecking things here and there as I woddle along the narrow paths. But I've just been challenged, and my pride forces me to accept. Can I find the strength to forgive myself and move on? Can I find the strength to, like before, acknowledge the damage I've done, but not try to atone for it in any way, leave it and leave it up to the wounded to tend to themselves? Can I find the strength to think on my mistakes, understand them, and apologize once, in that order? "Apologizing more than once is like asking permission to do it again. If you feel sorry, then you feel sorry, but if you beg for forgiveness, if you play the part of the repentant sinner, then who's the victim then? Arent you the one who wants to be apologized to? Apologize to me for getting angry, for getting sad that I insulted you. Apologize because right now I feel terrible, terribly bad, I don't want to be the one at fault. I know you feel terrible because of what I said before but I feel more terrible than you because I'm the bad guy but I never wanted to be. I want to roll around in self pity to alleviate the sickness. *My* sickness, not the one I gave to you, duh. All humans are selfish, after all.
Its hard not to apologize, though. Can I live up to the challenge and shut up? Say no more than what is necessary? That'd be pretty hard, especially for me who likes to talk. For me who likes to be the hero. To be the best, the nicest. I guess I am a boss after all, but a boss of what? *A king of my own planet*, no doubt. *A grown up.* A fool. A weakling. A victim. Of society. Of guilt from hurting others. I'm altruistic, you see.
So I'll do it. I'll remember from the crushing, humiliating defeat the lesson of wisdom. The best teachers are the harsh ones. They don't pull back the blows. They don't soothe your ego. They force you to listen, not because they are strong but because you know, though you try not to admit it, that they're right.
So I'll do it. Think on it. Apologize once, truthfully, with meaning more and deeper that a thousand of my apologies from before. Shall I apologize like this to those who have already received my half assed excuses? No. Maybe they understand what's really going on. Maybe they've already forgiven me. So who's really the one being hurt? Its just me. Because I'm playing the victim.
But I will allow myself a smaller comfort. Hold on, I'm trying to recall the memories, understand the reasons why I'm sorry. There. I said it. Its because of me speaking out of turn, above myself and about things I know nothing of, of people I know nothing about. Because I'm ignorant. Because I pretended not to be and acted all high-and-mighty. Because I assumed, because because because... Because I'm ignorant??? I feel sorry for being ignorant? For being less of a person than I had hoped I was? I feel sorry for myself, not for you. How selfish. I don't learn very fast, apparently. Ah, but you've probably already forgotten and moved on. Its easier to forgive when you're not in the wrong. So I guess I shouldn't have to apologize after all. Its too late anyway. It was too late before the first time I said it. So I guess I should thank you then. No fanciness, I'll make an effort and silence the drama I like so much. A simple "Thank You" will suffice. "You should know why."
Merci, Lor-
Because I 've told many a person things I had no right to say, hurt them for more than I'm worth, unintentionally, without thinking. I think, about 3 or 4 times now. The most important thing I think she bashed this time around was me "feeling guilty" for what I've done. Making myself the victim so I don't have to go through the process of forgiving myself for something I shouldn't have done. That one hurt a lot. Not for any good reason, probably just because of my pride and this other, super important reason whose name eludes me... Its making myself look good. Telling myself "I feel guilty, so I won't do it again" "I'm such a great person despite what I said or did because I regret it" when really all I'm doing is making it easier to keep on going haphazardly, wrecking things here and there as I woddle along the narrow paths. But I've just been challenged, and my pride forces me to accept. Can I find the strength to forgive myself and move on? Can I find the strength to, like before, acknowledge the damage I've done, but not try to atone for it in any way, leave it and leave it up to the wounded to tend to themselves? Can I find the strength to think on my mistakes, understand them, and apologize once, in that order? "Apologizing more than once is like asking permission to do it again. If you feel sorry, then you feel sorry, but if you beg for forgiveness, if you play the part of the repentant sinner, then who's the victim then? Arent you the one who wants to be apologized to? Apologize to me for getting angry, for getting sad that I insulted you. Apologize because right now I feel terrible, terribly bad, I don't want to be the one at fault. I know you feel terrible because of what I said before but I feel more terrible than you because I'm the bad guy but I never wanted to be. I want to roll around in self pity to alleviate the sickness. *My* sickness, not the one I gave to you, duh. All humans are selfish, after all.
Its hard not to apologize, though. Can I live up to the challenge and shut up? Say no more than what is necessary? That'd be pretty hard, especially for me who likes to talk. For me who likes to be the hero. To be the best, the nicest. I guess I am a boss after all, but a boss of what? *A king of my own planet*, no doubt. *A grown up.* A fool. A weakling. A victim. Of society. Of guilt from hurting others. I'm altruistic, you see.
So I'll do it. I'll remember from the crushing, humiliating defeat the lesson of wisdom. The best teachers are the harsh ones. They don't pull back the blows. They don't soothe your ego. They force you to listen, not because they are strong but because you know, though you try not to admit it, that they're right.
So I'll do it. Think on it. Apologize once, truthfully, with meaning more and deeper that a thousand of my apologies from before. Shall I apologize like this to those who have already received my half assed excuses? No. Maybe they understand what's really going on. Maybe they've already forgiven me. So who's really the one being hurt? Its just me. Because I'm playing the victim.
But I will allow myself a smaller comfort. Hold on, I'm trying to recall the memories, understand the reasons why I'm sorry. There. I said it. Its because of me speaking out of turn, above myself and about things I know nothing of, of people I know nothing about. Because I'm ignorant. Because I pretended not to be and acted all high-and-mighty. Because I assumed, because because because... Because I'm ignorant??? I feel sorry for being ignorant? For being less of a person than I had hoped I was? I feel sorry for myself, not for you. How selfish. I don't learn very fast, apparently. Ah, but you've probably already forgotten and moved on. Its easier to forgive when you're not in the wrong. So I guess I shouldn't have to apologize after all. Its too late anyway. It was too late before the first time I said it. So I guess I should thank you then. No fanciness, I'll make an effort and silence the drama I like so much. A simple "Thank You" will suffice. "You should know why."
Merci, Lor-
Saturday, January 2, 2010
The times they are a changin'
... They say time changes people. I wouldn't know. It makes them grow older, smarter, wiser, but does it change them? I look now at the people from two years ago, and little has changed, my perception of them, what I imagine their perception of me must be like, the state of our... is relationship the right word to use?
I keep thinking that if we think our friends, our family have changed, its just that they have begun to reveal a part of themselves they never showed us before. Does that make us shun them? Its not like their personality seems to have changed - wisened, like I said, perhaps, but...
What did you think? What about me? What has changed? My core is the same, no? Same basic attributes, difficulties, things that eveyone knows and yet no one dares to say because they are the truth. Perhaps it is too much to bear the full weight of your existence. I hate it when people tell me, elders of course, "Oh, you're only 18, so it's okay." Is it okay? To not have taken responsibility, to be floating in the void? Should I choose now, and pray that my choice is right?
The word choice brings about a paralell issue that I've been thinking about. You know, when you catch yourself saying something you don't actually think is true, or preacting whithout practicing. Should people believe in things half-assedly? Without acually applying them.
...
I dunno. I guess-
I fell asleep. I don't know what I was talking about. Nothing at all. Working on holidays is draining, after all.
I keep thinking that if we think our friends, our family have changed, its just that they have begun to reveal a part of themselves they never showed us before. Does that make us shun them? Its not like their personality seems to have changed - wisened, like I said, perhaps, but...
What did you think? What about me? What has changed? My core is the same, no? Same basic attributes, difficulties, things that eveyone knows and yet no one dares to say because they are the truth. Perhaps it is too much to bear the full weight of your existence. I hate it when people tell me, elders of course, "Oh, you're only 18, so it's okay." Is it okay? To not have taken responsibility, to be floating in the void? Should I choose now, and pray that my choice is right?
The word choice brings about a paralell issue that I've been thinking about. You know, when you catch yourself saying something you don't actually think is true, or preacting whithout practicing. Should people believe in things half-assedly? Without acually applying them.
...
I dunno. I guess-
I fell asleep. I don't know what I was talking about. Nothing at all. Working on holidays is draining, after all.
Friday, January 1, 2010
...And the curtain falls, and a new Act begins
Falling, falling down, whisps in the wind, the chilly air lifting me up, blowing away the covers. This is how a new year starts. If there is a God, you know... Soft winter wind, soft snowflakes soothing old wounds and fresh patches to old cracks in my wall. They're not there anymore. Gone with the wind. I don't get it. Am I free? No one was keeping me tied up. But now my kennel's full, my shed's a little warmer, my heart's a little brighter. Woof woof.
... I don't know how to start. I feel like I've learned a little more about myself, and about how life works. Lorraine was right. Its hard to remember sometimes, but everyone else has their own paths and they too, grow along the way. What was I afraid of? I don't know anymore. Perhaps I feared something that would make me need to feel bad? In my case the victim gets so engrossed in the play that he starts to believe that he's actually the victim. But I guess I feared having to confront the past. That's usually the line they pull in stories. Mine wasn't really exciting. I feel a bit... different. Before, I thought of regular life as static and a thing you want to avoid. This morning though, in the car on the snowy road home, I felt as though - crap, words escape me - everyone has a "path" and everyone also fundamentally stays the same. It's not "better" to wander, and I certainly wouldn't call it free. My escapist fantasies of before seem today a bit hollow and fake; I wanted to run, but its running away that I was doing. I thought of "staticity" as living in one spot, not going forwards with life, not learning, but some way along the line it got perverted and became a negative attribute that everyone but myself carried. *I* was the static one. I wasn't learning new things, I was constantly changing my mind, carrying preconception and judgements to people without restraint.
So yes, for the first time ever, I feel as though I lost and gained something as the new year rolls by. I awoke to it lying face first on a rug, in my winter coat - it was a white rug, in an easy light and spacious house, and it was snowing. I didn't know what to do so I tried to meditate, but I was still groggy and couldn't pull it off, so lay down and fell asleep again.
Then I pretended to help clean the mess we'd made, I didn't know how to make myself useful, I walked around and swiped a counter and everyone woke up and I didn't really want to leave, but there was nothing really to stay for, except company. So finally, I decided to leave. And I did look. I said I'd see everyone the next year. But really, I might not see them until we're 30. We'll see how it goes. I got in the car and waved goodbye to the house and its occupants and the people pushing the snow off their cars, I said "Sayonara", but to myself, and then it occured to me that I hadn't thought of saying "I wish you well". But whatever. I've got a sneaking suspicion that if hadn't already read my mind and knew then, they'll get it. I guess I really was playing the victim all along. Can I turn around now and say that I'm not like that anymore? Can I look up with a smile in the corner of my mouth, and walk along, like in a music video or something? Did I get what I came for? What did I want?
There was nothing to say, nothing worth saying, and fear perhaps, held my tongue. I'm thankful to it. Certain things can't and shouldn't be explained with words.
Oh but about that insight on myself; maybe its not that I'm "not static", I'm definitely not free and I'm not really a wanderer, so what? This morning, driving back I think, it occured to me that perhaps I'm just lost. ...
But that's okay, right? I used to admire everyone and their paths then I turned around and ridiculed? insulted? dismissed? them. Looks like I was just jealous. I'm glad that people around me are so... not well grounded, but into life. Everyone's working hard for their dreams. They're so more mature than I am. A friend once told me "What you'll get running around is the same as what you'd get if you stayed here." I understand that statement now, and I agree. At the end of the day, I'll grow up in both cases. It might even be faster to stay. Because all I've been doing since I left highschool is jump from one little thing to the next, and I don't think I was ever doing it for any specific reason. I go to school every morning because it's what's expected of me. That's how I live my life, and that's why I can't choose anything until the last minute. Because I have to eliminate the choice; in the end, I take the final option and follow it till it dies, then start again, no? Is this a moment of lucidity? Because if it is, then I know what I should do next year.
...
It was such a good drive, but I sped through most of it. "Wake Up" by The Arcade Fire, a Canadian Alt Rock band, I think. It kept ringing in my head, I dunno why. I just now looked up the lyrics and realised what it was about. It doesn't exactly apply to me but I put my own interpretation into it.
Listen to the song. It's like it was made just for times like these. I feel like this song right now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEKC5pyOKFU
lyrics here:
http://www.lyricsmania.com/lyrics/arcade_fire_lyrics_3537/funeral_lyrics_11085/wake_up_lyrics_128490.html
... I don't know how to start. I feel like I've learned a little more about myself, and about how life works. Lorraine was right. Its hard to remember sometimes, but everyone else has their own paths and they too, grow along the way. What was I afraid of? I don't know anymore. Perhaps I feared something that would make me need to feel bad? In my case the victim gets so engrossed in the play that he starts to believe that he's actually the victim. But I guess I feared having to confront the past. That's usually the line they pull in stories. Mine wasn't really exciting. I feel a bit... different. Before, I thought of regular life as static and a thing you want to avoid. This morning though, in the car on the snowy road home, I felt as though - crap, words escape me - everyone has a "path" and everyone also fundamentally stays the same. It's not "better" to wander, and I certainly wouldn't call it free. My escapist fantasies of before seem today a bit hollow and fake; I wanted to run, but its running away that I was doing. I thought of "staticity" as living in one spot, not going forwards with life, not learning, but some way along the line it got perverted and became a negative attribute that everyone but myself carried. *I* was the static one. I wasn't learning new things, I was constantly changing my mind, carrying preconception and judgements to people without restraint.
So yes, for the first time ever, I feel as though I lost and gained something as the new year rolls by. I awoke to it lying face first on a rug, in my winter coat - it was a white rug, in an easy light and spacious house, and it was snowing. I didn't know what to do so I tried to meditate, but I was still groggy and couldn't pull it off, so lay down and fell asleep again.
Then I pretended to help clean the mess we'd made, I didn't know how to make myself useful, I walked around and swiped a counter and everyone woke up and I didn't really want to leave, but there was nothing really to stay for, except company. So finally, I decided to leave. And I did look. I said I'd see everyone the next year. But really, I might not see them until we're 30. We'll see how it goes. I got in the car and waved goodbye to the house and its occupants and the people pushing the snow off their cars, I said "Sayonara", but to myself, and then it occured to me that I hadn't thought of saying "I wish you well". But whatever. I've got a sneaking suspicion that if hadn't already read my mind and knew then, they'll get it. I guess I really was playing the victim all along. Can I turn around now and say that I'm not like that anymore? Can I look up with a smile in the corner of my mouth, and walk along, like in a music video or something? Did I get what I came for? What did I want?
There was nothing to say, nothing worth saying, and fear perhaps, held my tongue. I'm thankful to it. Certain things can't and shouldn't be explained with words.
Oh but about that insight on myself; maybe its not that I'm "not static", I'm definitely not free and I'm not really a wanderer, so what? This morning, driving back I think, it occured to me that perhaps I'm just lost. ...
But that's okay, right? I used to admire everyone and their paths then I turned around and ridiculed? insulted? dismissed? them. Looks like I was just jealous. I'm glad that people around me are so... not well grounded, but into life. Everyone's working hard for their dreams. They're so more mature than I am. A friend once told me "What you'll get running around is the same as what you'd get if you stayed here." I understand that statement now, and I agree. At the end of the day, I'll grow up in both cases. It might even be faster to stay. Because all I've been doing since I left highschool is jump from one little thing to the next, and I don't think I was ever doing it for any specific reason. I go to school every morning because it's what's expected of me. That's how I live my life, and that's why I can't choose anything until the last minute. Because I have to eliminate the choice; in the end, I take the final option and follow it till it dies, then start again, no? Is this a moment of lucidity? Because if it is, then I know what I should do next year.
...
It was such a good drive, but I sped through most of it. "Wake Up" by The Arcade Fire, a Canadian Alt Rock band, I think. It kept ringing in my head, I dunno why. I just now looked up the lyrics and realised what it was about. It doesn't exactly apply to me but I put my own interpretation into it.
Listen to the song. It's like it was made just for times like these. I feel like this song right now.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEKC5pyOKFU
lyrics here:
http://www.lyricsmania.com/lyrics/arcade_fire_lyrics_3537/funeral_lyrics_11085/wake_up_lyrics_128490.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)