inreaction

this must be a breezy writing experience as a paper and a midterm and an empty stomach beckon me away from such sites.

and yet, while i sit here and pop m&m’s into my mouth and play piano on the keyboard tapping my feet to some ‘high school music,’ i’m not so worried about the litany of duties that await me. perhaps that’s my problem–i have this idea that studying awaits me, that it will always be there. and it will, and i did fine on my midddies so i’m happy that i can still fall madly in love and still succeed at life.

today i became interested in honesty and the effect it has on some people. i’m noticing more and more that most people cringe when something they know is said to their face. today a flyer person around royce came up to me with a picture of lynne cheney and asked me if i would “drop and out and help fight the nazi’s.” i told him that i would love to but i’d rather stay in school and take the nazi’s out of power so he can get a real job. but it’s not only mean or little things. in fact, most people really start twitching when honesty comes into the world that matters.

usually, people are so happy and eager to say they love you need you want you. and you can tell that none of it is really anywhere but in the part of their little minds that makes them feel important if they can attach themselves to these four letter words. and then there’s ways of steering conversations and utlizing techniques of rhetoric to make sure that she knows you’re serious. when you do this, most of them become quite nervous and eventually and inevitably perpetually evasive.

which is fine, that is the test i suppose. there’s people who come into your life for a reason, fulfill their purpose as you fulfill yours and you move on. these are usually the ones that find a lack of comfort in these honest situations. they don’t find peace in what anyone on the outside thinks they want because they know they’re not ready for anything they think they need.

then there’s the ones that stay–the ones that may come and go but never leave. there’s a few that will courageously stand in the muck that may be their honest feelings and care not for awkward evasions but steadfast and honest exchanges. these are the people that all the others feel themselves wanting to be. it’s not even about envy–it’s a mere yearning deep inside to be able to speak what one wants and not to shy away from what one needs.

i am certainly no master at this art, but i at least credit myself with thinking about it. then again, it’s not as if i have much of a choice–i’ve been blessed with people in my life that have been of the nature i just described. not people so much as a few (at least one and probably two) persons that have shown me that although i may not know everything about what i need, i shouldn’t cower from letting someone know it.

those of you who know me know that i’ve fallen once again into that land of brightened colors and sharper sounds. numbers one and two on my heroes list are humored by my ceaseless jumbling about this experience. it’s not that i haven’t been here before, it’s just that i’ve never been here with such honesty and hope. numbers three and four might as well know that they are the two people i just mentioned in the previous paragraph.

these people aren’t just heroes because i think they have charming names, or even charming faces. they’re there not because of some requisite length of friendship time. they’re there because they have altered the course of my life. and for the most part, i can’t see myself as living an entirely fulfilling life without them.

i usually do my best to stay away from names and even specific pronouns but for today i see no need for such a rat-race. the first gentleman in the square is listed for faith but this is only a one-word of a many dimensional admiration. accompanying me on my walks to royce in the midst of foolish confusion, reminding me when to turn it off and on, and supplying us with dry wit. there’s more to a friendship than sticks onto these letters. number two? it’s only been awhile and yet i find him to be an indispensible friend who understands and give little care to that which clouds most of our minds. also a royce companion. that may be the way into my friendship circle. number three? hmm. we’ll come back to number three. number four also has yet to leave. she stays with me and humors all of my madness and attempts to help me understand why certain people act the way they do. perhaps she, unlike anyone else, is there to make you feel as though your company is appreciated. my first phone call friend, and my irreplaceable taylor.

as for number three? perhaps it’s not what i could put here or in that little sidebar that defines why she’s there, but what i can’t really place into blocks of vowels and consonants–perhaps it’s the constant reminder that happiness comes not just from complicated acts but from simple truths–that true beauty is not only present in eyes and eyelashes or parts of some people but in everything about this one. i think she may be there because i can’t really be here or anywhere without thinking of sharing it with her. one day she will come to royce as well. and rome. maybe it’s also because she taught me that somethings may fade but never disappear. anything i say in this paragraph isn’t going to exactly explain much and i don’t feel the need to–regardless, there’s enough pages about this one.

acceptance – so contagious

Oh no, this couldn’t be more unexpected
And I can tell that I’ve been moving in so slow
Don’t let it throw you off too far
Cause I’ll be running right behind you

Could this be out of line? (Could this be out of line?)
To say you’re the only one breaking me down like this
You’re the only one I would take a shot on
Keep me hanging on so contagiously

Oohhh, when I’m around you I’m predictable
Cause I believe in loving you at first sight
I know it’s crazy but I’m hoping to..
To take a hold of you

Oh you’re everything I’m wanting
Come to think of it, I’m aching
On account of my transgression..
Will you welcome this confession?

Could this be out of line? (Could this be out of line?)
To say you’re the only one breaking me down like this
You’re the only one I would take a shot on
Keep me hanging on so contagiously

so there you have it–honesty. let me know if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

i’ve already written on the difference of being alive and living. and though i have a midtrem in t-minus 3 hours, i find it hard to sit and study about hypertension and cardiovascular disease without marveling at the metaphorical capacity such diseases of the heart convey. i’ve never been a fan of statements with “heart” in them–”you hurt my heart;” “i’ll keep you in my heart;” etc. as my philosophy professor stated–”you don’t keep anyone in your heart. you think you do, but anyone can tell you there’s not enough room.” but regardless of pitiful philosophy jokes, i’m just not comfortable with the idea of someone being imprinted in an organ of mine.

but what is comfortable is not always what is–the same principle applies to things that come with ease. and while i learn all the risk factors for cancers and diseases–smoking, obesity, estrogen–it seems that something is missing in all this. i am well aware that medicine and youthful wonderings are perhaps as different as what i wish for and what is real. but it still interests me that there are so many causes–particularly in diseases of the heart–that are unknown.

it is this unknown that intrigues me–not all of this theory of lipids and macronutrients and calories. it’s what blood pressure really means that catches my eye. it’s not about lupus and asthma but about the mind-body phenomenon. perhaps this is why political science and english and italian majors should not be found in science courses–it all seems empty to me, so necessary, but so lacking in the capacity to acknowledge that its facts can only do so much.

all facts can only do so much. my facts–you’re facts–they’re all perceptions. the problem is the relativity of thought–relative both to my other thoughts and to yours. sometimes life seems to carry the paradoxical nature of a faucet–if you open the water just slightly, the slender stream of liquid will make more noise than if you open it all the way. it’s the blending of water–or thoughts, if you will–that dulls this sound–or impact. if we could distill our minds into distinct categories–not based on what we need and what we want, but what we need and what we don’t–we might be able to escape this insistent inconsistency and avoid this medical “unknown.”

i suppose that’s why i do this–why i write, why i publish, why i reach out too strongly to those that i find i need. it’s why i grow more and more wary of waiting to see anything. it’s not about knowing facts–we already know most of the facts as they are. it’s about finding out what can’t be placed in some phy sci course reader, what can’t be asked in a lab. this is most unoriginal but highly informative for my own devices. to write is to draw with 26 colors and shapes–to draw grand pictures and paint large illusions. to paint a portrait with little embellishment is always difficul.

i don’t believe in cheapening my experiences by making them one page away from being known to the whole world. but i do find hope in the ability to expel these thoughts (send them off to far off destinations / so they can find a place / where they’re far more suited than here). the hope is not that i will stop thinking them, but that they might catch someone’s eye and help them do the same. no martyrdom, just hopefullness.

i forgot where i began and what purpose but sticking to things you forget is meaningless anyway. and then there’s the one i haven’t been able to forget–what is unforgettable is meaning. i used to think that meaning was just an illusion we attach ourselves to in order to prevent pessimism. and while i still maintain that meaning does not come as easy as we would like–i know that it exists. you’ve shown as much to me. for this i am grateful and my days are much brighter. but i will not stop where i used to because i can’t anymore.

my days are brighter but i believe that what lays before us could make them far lighter than they are. it’s difficult to sit because i want to run and tell everyone they’re missing out because they haven’t found what i’ve found. it’s elitism but only in it’s most childish and primary form. regardless, this is not the place for me to spell out my dreams–if anything it’s probably time i wake up.

college is undoubtedly another tale of who knows what and everyone really knows not so much. somethings are unfunny but other things are so ironically humorous that they take a few seconds to bring happiness of an unparalelled extent but a few hours to fully realize.

yesterday i went to the library and sat down to write read some grand stories about a terrible period in our history. but while the events contained in my course reader are without a doubt far more important in the grand scheme of the world, i can’t help but to think and want to believe that what i learned instead is the beginning of a betterment of life–the sort of betterment that you feel when you take off sunglasses and see the vibrant nature of colors, and the warmth you feel as a result of it (whether or not you can actually see the colors that other are describing).

i can’t say that everything is all perfect or ever will be. perhaps nothing more will change than the tone of these pages. but it doesn’t matter–i’ve been here before and i’ve almost been who knows where. perhaps the theme of these days is actually “who knows.” who knows anything? maybe modern philosophy doesn’t have to stay in courses entitled intro to philosophy of the mind. sometimes all you have to do is open your eyes to see the beauty in knowing the basics and trying to rid yourself of all cares for the details.

perhaps it really boils down to deciding what can be boiled down. maybe it’s about finding what evaporates into hot steam that only fogs the air and what’s at the root of it all. it’s what or who you can’t live without–and nothing else.

unfortunately that reading i failed to do still beckons. and i must run through the campus that i am beginning to find more and more beautiful everyday. it’s uncanny how inanimate objects and buildings can remind you of someone. and i hope she figures out how to print her magazine soon. :)

frank sinatra :: the very thought

The very thought of you and I forget to do
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do.
I’m living in a kind of daydream, I’m happy as a king,
Foolish though it may seem, to me that’s everything.
The mere idea of you, the longing here for you,
You’ll never know how slow the moments go till I’m near to you.
I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above,
It’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love.

i’m not really sure about anything,
but tonight and today meant more than a lot of years i’ve lived.

this is about a few days of writing. first is a theory. second is sappy stupidity. if there’s a third i can’t remember what it’s about.

on control:

there’s a guitar solo that begins precisely [four] minutes into incubus’s “sick sad little world.” on my way down jans steps today, i realized that the sounds breaking into my mind during that solo are by no means pleasing. rather, it’s a cacophonic flurry of high pitched squealings that sound from the strings of the singer’s instrument.

but i felt no need to change the song. then a raindrop fell in my right eye behind my “look at me i’m a philosophy student” glasses. and it was an unpleasant sensation (which probably has to do something with the super-high smog levels), but i didn’t mind–it was almost charming.

so it struck me, that much of what we appreciate is appreciated not for the comfort that it brings, but for the simple fact that we could elminate these stimuli. even more revelatory is the observation that the only difference between what we love and what we loathe is the control we yield over these physical or metaphysical “things.”

pain, for example. adolescent boys often engage in testosterone filled games that include holding one’s plam to burning asphalt, or air-benching for infinite times with non-existent purposes. it’s not just that these youth wish to feel competitive–it’s that they unconsciously enjoy flirting with their sensory limits [and, unlike their femaile counterparts, they lack the rational to see how stupid burning your hand is].

flirting, even. there is a thinly veiled boundary between casual banter and uncomfortable honesty or even harassment. what is flirting, after all, than to steer a conversation and see who cracks first?

control lies at the root of all of this. we wish to know that there does exist danger–and very grave danger indeed–but that we can hold it in a jar, observe it through the magnifying sterile alcohol and only take a whiff when we wish to make sure we can still sense anything else.

and that, precisely, is the problem. i know i can sense it–i just can’t control it anymore. i can’t put any of this in a jar–but worse, i’m afraid i can’t preserve it anymore either.

of this and that

in years of maturation, there occasionally exists moments at which we debate between what is accessible and what is imagined. sometimes we wonder if life is better lived in the present, ready-for-the-earning world or if we were meant fo yearn for the idealized sentiments that we know exist only on the pads of divorced, chain-smoking writers and on the faces of wealthy screen dwellers.

i sat at this desk on this fifth floor in front of this white pad with the expressed intent of being positive. there is a dilemma in this. in a logical sense, to say your’e tired of negativity is to say you’re ready for optimism. but practical conventions obviously tell us that to be tired about anything is to be positive about nothing.

people often ask me if i find comfort in negativity. actually, they ask me what i’m a jerk–but the former question is far more poetic. furthermore, the latter is merely a matter of definition.

you see, in this world, negativity is attributed to observation, and optimism is attributed with silence. generaly speaking, noticing specific traits in individuals is met with wide-reaching defensiveness and aggressive denounciations. most cliche but nonetheless ironic is the fact that those who voice the universal thoughts are always criminalized by those who cower behind “some things don’t need to be said.” if they don’t need to be said then don’t think them either.

and it’s not that they do. some things are tacitly understood, and the realization of such truths can often engender deep pain.

but some things can change lives. sometimes there’s a hope that extends beyond tacit understadings. some truths need to be told and screamed and heard around the world–and some people are such truths.

it’s not negative for me to feel resentment towards lovey dovey overweight couples when i find myself incapable fo such affection. it’s not negative to lack the patience for overcompensators who fear so vehemently the facts that exist–insecurity, desire–and even love are a part of the human existence. even my foolhardy arrogance denies these facts.

this is not a story of martyrdom. it’s the chronicling of days in an hoenst yet fleetingly evasive manner. negativity is not always an attitude–it’s a way for “optimistings” to justify biting their lips.