Curt walked up to the window, knowing that he could never cross the quarter-inch thick glass to the other side. He pressed his face up against it, trying to get as close to the other side as he could.
He closed his eyes and imagined passing through the glass, face first, running to his prize. This drove Curt crazy. He opened his eyes and looked around for a hard object. He found that someone had used a hefty rock to weigh down a trash can lid across the street. Without even contemplating his actions, he was lugging the rock back across the street to the window.
As he gathered momentum rocking his arms back and forth, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass. His thoughts were catching up with his actions. He didn't want to think; it would drown out fire inside him; it would make him question whether it was really worth the trouble. Refusing reason and a second more of time, he threw the rock at his reflection... breaking it.
An alarm sounded, but he did not hear it. Faced with nothing but intangible air and his prize, something suddenly hit him. He was scared, very scared. He was about to obtain something he knew he would never have. He looked at it as it stared back, waiting to see whether destiny would be rewritten. Of course, destiny can never be rewritten; destiny is destiny. The object knew this, and it was only a matter of time before the man realized this.
It didn't take very long for the man to realize. He thought he had changed destiny, but he hadn't. The only thing he changed was the barrier preventing him from having the unobtainable object. He stared at the object in full desire but also in full inaction. The object stared at him, fully cognizant of their relationship and the destiny shared by the two. The man stared back.
The man averted his eyes as tears started streaming down his face. Fear capitalized on the opportunity and drowned him. Having broken eye contact with the object, his desire was engulfed in the imperfections of the world. He turned around and ran as fast as he could.
The object stared back at him, even as he was out of sight; its gaze the same as it always was: unchanged. It saw the desire, the passion, the rage... but was unmoved.
The object did not recognize him. For of what importance is someone to something destiny has not allotted for?
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Quote from a story I've abandoned
Though the story might never reach the light of day, may this quote be passed on and appreciated.
“Well, I better get going.” I said, unsure of how else to break the awkward silence. She snapped out of her thoughts and led the way to the door. As she opened it for me, she said “It was very nice meeting you mister Li” and gave me a perfect smile. It was paralyzing. It’s shocking how such a simple gesture can be so powerful, like how playing an F# instead of an F changes an entire key and emotion.
“Well, I better get going.” I said, unsure of how else to break the awkward silence. She snapped out of her thoughts and led the way to the door. As she opened it for me, she said “It was very nice meeting you mister Li” and gave me a perfect smile. It was paralyzing. It’s shocking how such a simple gesture can be so powerful, like how playing an F# instead of an F changes an entire key and emotion.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
hubba hubba
(read with rhythm)
tick, tock, drip, drop,
licky licky flip, flop,
one, step, skip, hop,
lock it bring it make it pop.
make a mooove through it down there
take some cooool dips down through air
drop it looow crank it bank it
use some sass and flip that hair with flair.
won't you work all day, sweatin'
don't you work all night, sweatin'
can't you work it every way,
ain't you workin' without pay?
bring it out to here, break it,
ain't nothing far too sheer just fake it,
please girl don't show fear, we'll see it,
please girl take this beer believe it.
please girl try and make believe it,
please girl really make me see it.
tick, tock, drip, drop,
licky licky flip, flop,
one, step, skip, hop,
lock it bring it make it pop.
make a mooove through it down there
take some cooool dips down through air
drop it looow crank it bank it
use some sass and flip that hair with flair.
won't you work all day, sweatin'
don't you work all night, sweatin'
can't you work it every way,
ain't you workin' without pay?
bring it out to here, break it,
ain't nothing far too sheer just fake it,
please girl don't show fear, we'll see it,
please girl take this beer believe it.
please girl try and make believe it,
please girl really make me see it.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I hate trains
For me to be able to write something that I like, I have to be in the right mood. Unfortunately, it is usually a semi-depressed, highly introspective mood that gets my mind flowing.
I deleted (equivalent of tearing up) the script that I was writing for LNYF today, because it had no heart. Sure it was funny and happy, but to me it lacked value. I sought to induce a mood of self-depression and introspection today. The ordeal took me from 6pm to now.
The method of choice was to read the synopsis of as many Wang Kar Wai films and to revisit the plots of some of the more depressing stories/movies I've read/seen over the years (ea. Grave of Fireflies). After about two hours, I thought of something brilliant.
The new mail sorter that finds a collection of old letters the post office has been keeping because it can't be delivered and there is no return address. They are ordered by a simple rubber band, and the letters all come from same pen. Where it goes from there is lost to me. I don't think I could develop it anymore. I threw that sheet of paper into the recycle bin.
I stumbled across this movie that I had never heard of before. The title screamed "sentimental" and I ate it up. After watching it for an hour, I have induced the sadness that I need to write, but I don't want to. The simplicity of a missed exchange or the meekness of both parties can tear lives apart. Wanting to make a move but never doing so is like wanting to live but not taking a step forward. It pains me to see such deep desire hindered by self-depreciation and fear.
The mere tug of a shirt is not enough sometimes. Silent tears fall without meaning.
I hate trains.
Trains allow too much time for thought. One gets on to visit his childhood sweetheart, but thinks too much on the train. One gets on the train to return home and is brainwashed by another passenger on the train. Two people cross train tracks and feel the connection as the rails come down and trains pass. One looks back and waits. The other walks away.
It really strikes me how words can be so beautiful when carefully chosen.
I deleted (equivalent of tearing up) the script that I was writing for LNYF today, because it had no heart. Sure it was funny and happy, but to me it lacked value. I sought to induce a mood of self-depression and introspection today. The ordeal took me from 6pm to now.
The method of choice was to read the synopsis of as many Wang Kar Wai films and to revisit the plots of some of the more depressing stories/movies I've read/seen over the years (ea. Grave of Fireflies). After about two hours, I thought of something brilliant.
The new mail sorter that finds a collection of old letters the post office has been keeping because it can't be delivered and there is no return address. They are ordered by a simple rubber band, and the letters all come from same pen. Where it goes from there is lost to me. I don't think I could develop it anymore. I threw that sheet of paper into the recycle bin.
I stumbled across this movie that I had never heard of before. The title screamed "sentimental" and I ate it up. After watching it for an hour, I have induced the sadness that I need to write, but I don't want to. The simplicity of a missed exchange or the meekness of both parties can tear lives apart. Wanting to make a move but never doing so is like wanting to live but not taking a step forward. It pains me to see such deep desire hindered by self-depreciation and fear.
The mere tug of a shirt is not enough sometimes. Silent tears fall without meaning.
I hate trains.
Trains allow too much time for thought. One gets on to visit his childhood sweetheart, but thinks too much on the train. One gets on the train to return home and is brainwashed by another passenger on the train. Two people cross train tracks and feel the connection as the rails come down and trains pass. One looks back and waits. The other walks away.
It really strikes me how words can be so beautiful when carefully chosen.
a self-evaluation (for college students) #1
let's take a moment to examine ourselves. this is for those of us that have grown accustomed to the college life. i have appropriately tainted everything with my bias.
the day typically begins with waking up. sometimes the day begins with a strange dream from which you wake, but regardless, all days begin with waking save those during which you do not wake. is your mind awake? if not, try again: go back to the previous sentence. what do you think about first? do you debate going back to sleep? do you consider each little task to complete during the entire day? do you fall somewhere in-between, knowing what is for breakfast but not dinner? (think now: what does how you start your day say about how you're starting your life? are you taking things one step at a time? do you go with the flow? are you rigid? do you know where you'll be 5 years from now? is knowing part of being responsible?)
you rise. perhaps you urinate first. perhaps you brush. perhaps you shower. most of us dress. what do you consider when you dress? are you more concerned with looking good or feeling good? are you choosing between free t-shirts or are you considering which hat would go best with the top? is your mismatched outfit deliberate? do you put on make up? what is a sarong, anyway? (think now: what does your style of dress say about your concerns? evaluate: just how independent of a person are you?)
some of us eat breakfast. some of us check our emails before moving out. you walk (or drive, or bike) to class. let's say for the sake of our evaluating that you walk to class. how do you walk to class? do you move briskly, or do you stroll along? do you wave hello to everybody you know, or do you hope to see nobody you know? do you listen to music, or do you move in silence? are you wondering what the people you don't know think of you as you pass by, or are you wondering about just how late you're going to be if you don't pick up the pace? (think now: what does your preferred interaction with friends along the way say about your preferred social setting? what does your preference for music or silence say about how much thinking or not thinking you're doing? what does your daily performance strutting to class or daily jog to class say about your concerns? just how much do you think about yourself, anyway?)
let's say you get to class. did you bring a laptop to class? if so, is it to perform the previously mentioned activities instead of paying attention, or are you actually taking notes? speaking of notes, do you take notes because everybody does it, or are you actually listening? or are you sleeping? did you sleep early the night before so you could stay awake, or was that time spent catching up to the material you slept through already? is there even such a thing as catching up for you? do you understand the material, or are you just getting by to get by? did you skip this step of your day? more specific: do you actually care about the economics of sub-Saharan Africa, or do you just fancy yourself sophisticated? is psychology actually going to become useful for you, ever? do tensors matter? what is a caesura? (think now: what does bringing your laptop to class really do for you? what does your note-taking style (or lack thereof) say about your learning strategy? what does your level of preparation for class say about your understanding of the impact of each and every class on your future? what impact does each and every class have on your future?)
at some point, you eat. or not. but let's say you do. what do you eat? do you eat healthy? do you eat healthy to say something, or do you eat healthy so you can say something? or do you eat healthy because eating healthy is good for you? (why exactly is eating healthy good for you, anyway? on the flip side, replace healthy in the previous several sentences with unhealthy) regardless, eating is a communal thing. or is it. do you choose between eating alone or with people, or do you choose between eating with this group or that group? does it matter to you who you are seen eating with? would you prefer to be in the sole company of an attractive girl, or would you prefer to be in the company of several close guys? (ladies, reverse it.) what do you think of people that make the opposite choice? do you always eat with the same people, or do you find something new, always something new? (think now: do you even enjoy that tofu-burger? what is a few more pounds, anyway? what does your diet say about what is important to you? what does your company say about what you value?)
perhaps you return for more classes. what do you do after classes? study at the library? find your friends to hang with? retreat back to your humble abode? are you worried about the work you have to do, or are you just tired of thinking about academics? do you follow a normal routine or do you do whatever comes to mind? are there meetings and whatnot that you must attend, or are there events and planning to do that you look forward to? if not, do you find the nearest computer terminal and diligently check 3 different social networking sites? do you read the news, and if so, are you reading world news, politics, technology, business, fashion, sports, or the funnies? do read to learn or do you read to be entertained? maybe you read nothing. (think now: what do your after class activities say about your attitude toward classes and learning? about your attitude toward social activeness: apathetic? if you do check too many social networking sites or if you live by any one social networking site, why is it so appealing? what did people do without those sites? how is it that you unwind, and why do you need unwinding after a few hours of class?)
some of us do schoolwork. eventually, we all do some schoolwork, or else we would cease to be here. but some of us also don't do schoolwork on any given day. do you do work all the time, some of the time, or none of the time? is work something to be done sooner or later? if sooner, what drives you to work diligently? if later, what distracts you from working diligently? (think now: if diligent and work are never in the same thought for you, why not? what does your work ethic say about your attitude for your future? what does your work ethic say about you and instant gratification? do you have patience? do you have maturity? is your attitude toward work about excuses or about sweat?)
let's ignore social things. that's another whole thing on its own.
maybe you eat again. that was covered. maybe you fiddle around some more. eventually we go to sleep again (unless we're catching up, but that was covered as well). when do you sleep? do you sleep when you are tired, sleep when you are afraid of not sleeping, or sleep when everybody else has gone to sleep? if you sleep when you are tired, are you tired at 10pm or 2am? or 3am? or 4am? if you sleep for fear, do you not sleep at a fixed time, or do you just get up at different times every day? do you sleep when nobody else is left because you were squeezing out the last drop of attention from everybody else? do you sleep well, or do you sleep fitfully? (think now: if sleeping is a chore for you, when are you going to grow old already? sheesh. what does the trigger for your sleep say about the value you place in sleep? just how valuable is sleep anyway? remember that a human must breath, eat, and sleep in order to stay alive. if you can't sleep well, what keeps you up at night? if you sleep well, is it because you have something warm inside, or is it because you're just dead tired?)
and some of us dream. do you dream? (think now: do you dream?)
perhaps some summary questions: what is important enough to you that it changes your daily schedule? do you offer yourself time to think and evaluate yourself? are you growing into a responsible adult?
the day typically begins with waking up. sometimes the day begins with a strange dream from which you wake, but regardless, all days begin with waking save those during which you do not wake. is your mind awake? if not, try again: go back to the previous sentence. what do you think about first? do you debate going back to sleep? do you consider each little task to complete during the entire day? do you fall somewhere in-between, knowing what is for breakfast but not dinner? (think now: what does how you start your day say about how you're starting your life? are you taking things one step at a time? do you go with the flow? are you rigid? do you know where you'll be 5 years from now? is knowing part of being responsible?)
you rise. perhaps you urinate first. perhaps you brush. perhaps you shower. most of us dress. what do you consider when you dress? are you more concerned with looking good or feeling good? are you choosing between free t-shirts or are you considering which hat would go best with the top? is your mismatched outfit deliberate? do you put on make up? what is a sarong, anyway? (think now: what does your style of dress say about your concerns? evaluate: just how independent of a person are you?)
some of us eat breakfast. some of us check our emails before moving out. you walk (or drive, or bike) to class. let's say for the sake of our evaluating that you walk to class. how do you walk to class? do you move briskly, or do you stroll along? do you wave hello to everybody you know, or do you hope to see nobody you know? do you listen to music, or do you move in silence? are you wondering what the people you don't know think of you as you pass by, or are you wondering about just how late you're going to be if you don't pick up the pace? (think now: what does your preferred interaction with friends along the way say about your preferred social setting? what does your preference for music or silence say about how much thinking or not thinking you're doing? what does your daily performance strutting to class or daily jog to class say about your concerns? just how much do you think about yourself, anyway?)
let's say you get to class. did you bring a laptop to class? if so, is it to perform the previously mentioned activities instead of paying attention, or are you actually taking notes? speaking of notes, do you take notes because everybody does it, or are you actually listening? or are you sleeping? did you sleep early the night before so you could stay awake, or was that time spent catching up to the material you slept through already? is there even such a thing as catching up for you? do you understand the material, or are you just getting by to get by? did you skip this step of your day? more specific: do you actually care about the economics of sub-Saharan Africa, or do you just fancy yourself sophisticated? is psychology actually going to become useful for you, ever? do tensors matter? what is a caesura? (think now: what does bringing your laptop to class really do for you? what does your note-taking style (or lack thereof) say about your learning strategy? what does your level of preparation for class say about your understanding of the impact of each and every class on your future? what impact does each and every class have on your future?)
at some point, you eat. or not. but let's say you do. what do you eat? do you eat healthy? do you eat healthy to say something, or do you eat healthy so you can say something? or do you eat healthy because eating healthy is good for you? (why exactly is eating healthy good for you, anyway? on the flip side, replace healthy in the previous several sentences with unhealthy) regardless, eating is a communal thing. or is it. do you choose between eating alone or with people, or do you choose between eating with this group or that group? does it matter to you who you are seen eating with? would you prefer to be in the sole company of an attractive girl, or would you prefer to be in the company of several close guys? (ladies, reverse it.) what do you think of people that make the opposite choice? do you always eat with the same people, or do you find something new, always something new? (think now: do you even enjoy that tofu-burger? what is a few more pounds, anyway? what does your diet say about what is important to you? what does your company say about what you value?)
perhaps you return for more classes. what do you do after classes? study at the library? find your friends to hang with? retreat back to your humble abode? are you worried about the work you have to do, or are you just tired of thinking about academics? do you follow a normal routine or do you do whatever comes to mind? are there meetings and whatnot that you must attend, or are there events and planning to do that you look forward to? if not, do you find the nearest computer terminal and diligently check 3 different social networking sites? do you read the news, and if so, are you reading world news, politics, technology, business, fashion, sports, or the funnies? do read to learn or do you read to be entertained? maybe you read nothing. (think now: what do your after class activities say about your attitude toward classes and learning? about your attitude toward social activeness: apathetic? if you do check too many social networking sites or if you live by any one social networking site, why is it so appealing? what did people do without those sites? how is it that you unwind, and why do you need unwinding after a few hours of class?)
some of us do schoolwork. eventually, we all do some schoolwork, or else we would cease to be here. but some of us also don't do schoolwork on any given day. do you do work all the time, some of the time, or none of the time? is work something to be done sooner or later? if sooner, what drives you to work diligently? if later, what distracts you from working diligently? (think now: if diligent and work are never in the same thought for you, why not? what does your work ethic say about your attitude for your future? what does your work ethic say about you and instant gratification? do you have patience? do you have maturity? is your attitude toward work about excuses or about sweat?)
let's ignore social things. that's another whole thing on its own.
maybe you eat again. that was covered. maybe you fiddle around some more. eventually we go to sleep again (unless we're catching up, but that was covered as well). when do you sleep? do you sleep when you are tired, sleep when you are afraid of not sleeping, or sleep when everybody else has gone to sleep? if you sleep when you are tired, are you tired at 10pm or 2am? or 3am? or 4am? if you sleep for fear, do you not sleep at a fixed time, or do you just get up at different times every day? do you sleep when nobody else is left because you were squeezing out the last drop of attention from everybody else? do you sleep well, or do you sleep fitfully? (think now: if sleeping is a chore for you, when are you going to grow old already? sheesh. what does the trigger for your sleep say about the value you place in sleep? just how valuable is sleep anyway? remember that a human must breath, eat, and sleep in order to stay alive. if you can't sleep well, what keeps you up at night? if you sleep well, is it because you have something warm inside, or is it because you're just dead tired?)
and some of us dream. do you dream? (think now: do you dream?)
perhaps some summary questions: what is important enough to you that it changes your daily schedule? do you offer yourself time to think and evaluate yourself? are you growing into a responsible adult?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
WTF man. This is messed up.
I didn’t even know this girl well.
However, because of my present state, something of value had to have been placed on her. I can walk past the most beautiful woman and not be drawn to her. I can pass Jesus on the sidewalk and not give a glance. How would this girl that I don’t know well, that isn’t the most beautiful person in the world, one that I don’t wish to spend the rest of my life with or even see benefit from friendship… how did this girl acquire some value to me?
That is the question that I need the answer to.
However, because of my present state, something of value had to have been placed on her. I can walk past the most beautiful woman and not be drawn to her. I can pass Jesus on the sidewalk and not give a glance. How would this girl that I don’t know well, that isn’t the most beautiful person in the world, one that I don’t wish to spend the rest of my life with or even see benefit from friendship… how did this girl acquire some value to me?
That is the question that I need the answer to.
Friday, August 21, 2009
in 2005, I quit my job because my boss was dishonest. I could not work under such conditions
in 2006, I killed a cat with my car. I was deeply saddened but I was glad it wasn't a human, because cats are not as important as humans
in 2007, I played ultimate frisbee for hours every single day. I was in the best shape of my life. To get back to that health level, I would have to train extensively. Though it is not one of my immediate goals, I do intend to best myself before age limits my abilities
in 2008, I lost my shirt playing the stock market. I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes even spreading your seeds cannot prevent famine.
in 2009, I ran around my college campus naked at night. I was detained by the police, but since our school is a liberal arts school, after some discussion about this being an example of free expression, I was let off with 30 hours of community service
in 2010, I will be entering into ******** as a first year med student. I will be meek and poor, but I will eat sh*t and get hazed daily if it means that I amount to something the university is willing to hand a diploma to
in 2011, i will be convicted of 11 counts of perjury. I will not have any excuse for the matter, and plead insanity. It will not work because I am too smart to be insane.
in 2006, I killed a cat with my car. I was deeply saddened but I was glad it wasn't a human, because cats are not as important as humans
in 2007, I played ultimate frisbee for hours every single day. I was in the best shape of my life. To get back to that health level, I would have to train extensively. Though it is not one of my immediate goals, I do intend to best myself before age limits my abilities
in 2008, I lost my shirt playing the stock market. I learned a valuable lesson: sometimes even spreading your seeds cannot prevent famine.
in 2009, I ran around my college campus naked at night. I was detained by the police, but since our school is a liberal arts school, after some discussion about this being an example of free expression, I was let off with 30 hours of community service
in 2010, I will be entering into ******** as a first year med student. I will be meek and poor, but I will eat sh*t and get hazed daily if it means that I amount to something the university is willing to hand a diploma to
in 2011, i will be convicted of 11 counts of perjury. I will not have any excuse for the matter, and plead insanity. It will not work because I am too smart to be insane.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
"Sometimes, too, as Eve was created from a rib of Adam, a woman would be born during my sleep from some strain in the position of my thighs. Conceived from the pleasure I was on the point of consummating, she it was, I imagined, who offered me that pleasure. My body, conscious that its own warmth was permeating hers, would strive to become one with her, and I would awake. The res of humanity seemed very remote in comparison with this woman whose company I had left but a moment ago my cheek was still warn from her kiss, mu body ached beneath the weight of hers.If, as would sometimes happen, she had the features of some woman whom I had known in waking hours, I would abandon myself altogether to the sole quest of her, like people who set out on a journey to see with their eyes some city of desire, and imagine that one can taste in reality what has charmed one's fancy. And then, gradually, the memory of her would dissolve and vanish, until I had forgotten the girl of my dream."
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
In search of light.
I read a passage today about philosophy of mind and the limits that are imposed; the limit of design. I tried to grasp the full meaning of the argument, but I was pressed by questions paving my thought process and deductions that needed to be made within a set frame of time. I had no time to derive my own meaning from the words on the screen. I ended up misinterpreting the question, and with the author's d) to my a), I ended up even more confused.
In the pursuit of satisfying the author's preference, I forgave my opportunity to create my own. There was no reasoning behind the answer choice d), and reviewing the passage I still see no reason that d) could have been a valid choice. Could it have been a misprint? Many a time I have thought so only to realize my thinking was incomplete, but could it be this time?
I guess I am trying to grasp at something deeper here, some universal constant. I haven't been the most religious of people in the past couple months, nor do I think this is the turning point. My acuteness has faded, and I am left with the remnants of theological discussions with the youth director at 3am nightly and the sense of discomfort in my stomach.
My friend and I once had a discussion over the phone that turned into one of our recurrent spontaneous examinations. "I threw a paper ball into the trash today, and it missed. I just sat there staring at the paper ball, asking myself 'how much effort is it to get up and throw it away? Why don't I just go and do it?'"
"So did you get up and throw it away"
"Yeah."
"You should apply that to every aspect of your life then."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
So what is the cost of smiling to a stranger? What are the benefits? What do you gain from self-sacrifice away from seeing eyes, besides "riches in Heaven"?
I digress. The main point I want to talk about here is the light that I am searching for. Whether that be God, a woman, a car, a purpose, or just a smile to a stranger a day. I have read a wall full of books telling me how to be successful in life, how to make a million dollars before I am 35, how to meet the love of my life, how to gain eternal life, how to eat, how to drive, how to be lucky. Well now that there's somewhat of a formula to it, it kind of seems less magical. It's like the time I found out why the sunset and sunrise produces such marvelous colors; the wave of awe was tuned down, and the logical side took over.
I have done enough irrational things to know that you won't get caught "the one time you step over the line", but you have to know what you're doing when you step over. I quote Roosevelt's Dare Mighty Things and pump myself up, but I can't live a life of unhindered risk. I am too antsy to sit around and grow old with someone that I am "comfortable" and "safe" with. I have that feral thirst of risk and darkness and unknown that I do not try to lock up or squelch.
What is that one thing that is above all else? What is that one driving passion that would cause me to give up my family, religion, and life for? I know there is something deep within myself that is searching, it slowly tunes down everything else around me, either out of greed or delayed gratification. It either wants my full attention, or it's telling me "No, this is not it. You need to continue your search." That is me.
It is like the rating scale, 1-10. There is never a 10; it is an impossibility; there is no perfect. However, you can get so close that it is almost as good, with just that one little infinitesimally small piece missing. I can probably keep going until I find 9.999999, but it will always lack the one small piece that makes it perfect. Slowly the 9.999999 will move from ".000001 from perfect" to "not perfect", and my search will continue.
The way I see it, though I might be more unsatisfied with life than I am satisfied with it, I will have gotten closer to perfection than if I hadn't expended all the energy and forgone all the opportunity costs of throwing away whatever I had and spending time searching for something better. I guess not trying just doesn't cut it for me. I am not one of the people that will just accept death.
But who am I comparing myself to? I have to be closer to perfection than someone else. I guess that's a good question too. I have no idea who I am comparing myself to, who I am basing my successes and defeats off of. Because I don't have a standard that I am ascribing to, I am running at full pace aimlessly, waiting for the day that my nemesis shows up.
Maybe I'm so far ahead of him and traveling at such a pace that he will never catch up, or maybe I am the one that never catches up. But what do you do in that situation? When you are running a race against another person, unaware of where you started and unaware of where you'll finish, unaware of where your opponent is. Do you stop and wait, or do you sprint as fast as you can to see if they're ahead? That is my predicament. What I've decided to do is to beat myself. I am running at a pace that is slightly faster than what I could and would normally do. Sure I'll tire out faster, but if I want a fighting chance, it's what I have to do.
In the pursuit of satisfying the author's preference, I forgave my opportunity to create my own. There was no reasoning behind the answer choice d), and reviewing the passage I still see no reason that d) could have been a valid choice. Could it have been a misprint? Many a time I have thought so only to realize my thinking was incomplete, but could it be this time?
I guess I am trying to grasp at something deeper here, some universal constant. I haven't been the most religious of people in the past couple months, nor do I think this is the turning point. My acuteness has faded, and I am left with the remnants of theological discussions with the youth director at 3am nightly and the sense of discomfort in my stomach.
My friend and I once had a discussion over the phone that turned into one of our recurrent spontaneous examinations. "I threw a paper ball into the trash today, and it missed. I just sat there staring at the paper ball, asking myself 'how much effort is it to get up and throw it away? Why don't I just go and do it?'"
"So did you get up and throw it away"
"Yeah."
"You should apply that to every aspect of your life then."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
So what is the cost of smiling to a stranger? What are the benefits? What do you gain from self-sacrifice away from seeing eyes, besides "riches in Heaven"?
I digress. The main point I want to talk about here is the light that I am searching for. Whether that be God, a woman, a car, a purpose, or just a smile to a stranger a day. I have read a wall full of books telling me how to be successful in life, how to make a million dollars before I am 35, how to meet the love of my life, how to gain eternal life, how to eat, how to drive, how to be lucky. Well now that there's somewhat of a formula to it, it kind of seems less magical. It's like the time I found out why the sunset and sunrise produces such marvelous colors; the wave of awe was tuned down, and the logical side took over.
I have done enough irrational things to know that you won't get caught "the one time you step over the line", but you have to know what you're doing when you step over. I quote Roosevelt's Dare Mighty Things and pump myself up, but I can't live a life of unhindered risk. I am too antsy to sit around and grow old with someone that I am "comfortable" and "safe" with. I have that feral thirst of risk and darkness and unknown that I do not try to lock up or squelch.
What is that one thing that is above all else? What is that one driving passion that would cause me to give up my family, religion, and life for? I know there is something deep within myself that is searching, it slowly tunes down everything else around me, either out of greed or delayed gratification. It either wants my full attention, or it's telling me "No, this is not it. You need to continue your search." That is me.
It is like the rating scale, 1-10. There is never a 10; it is an impossibility; there is no perfect. However, you can get so close that it is almost as good, with just that one little infinitesimally small piece missing. I can probably keep going until I find 9.999999, but it will always lack the one small piece that makes it perfect. Slowly the 9.999999 will move from ".000001 from perfect" to "not perfect", and my search will continue.
The way I see it, though I might be more unsatisfied with life than I am satisfied with it, I will have gotten closer to perfection than if I hadn't expended all the energy and forgone all the opportunity costs of throwing away whatever I had and spending time searching for something better. I guess not trying just doesn't cut it for me. I am not one of the people that will just accept death.
But who am I comparing myself to? I have to be closer to perfection than someone else. I guess that's a good question too. I have no idea who I am comparing myself to, who I am basing my successes and defeats off of. Because I don't have a standard that I am ascribing to, I am running at full pace aimlessly, waiting for the day that my nemesis shows up.
Maybe I'm so far ahead of him and traveling at such a pace that he will never catch up, or maybe I am the one that never catches up. But what do you do in that situation? When you are running a race against another person, unaware of where you started and unaware of where you'll finish, unaware of where your opponent is. Do you stop and wait, or do you sprint as fast as you can to see if they're ahead? That is my predicament. What I've decided to do is to beat myself. I am running at a pace that is slightly faster than what I could and would normally do. Sure I'll tire out faster, but if I want a fighting chance, it's what I have to do.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
It was the end of another busy day at the jazz club. Though the night began with a little rain, it ended early and the people found their way out into the bathed streets. I went up to the bar and took a seat.
"Place filled up pretty well. Get good tips?"
"Pretty good for a rainy night."
I smiled at her reply as she handed me a drink. "On the house."
"This is coming out of your paycheck."
"You wouldn't dare."
I held my hands up in surrender, and we exchanged smiles as she wiped down the table top. I took the drink and went outside into the damp streets. I took a deep breath of the moist air, and after a short pause, let it flow out of me with natural grace.
"Place filled up pretty well. Get good tips?"
"Pretty good for a rainy night."
I smiled at her reply as she handed me a drink. "On the house."
"This is coming out of your paycheck."
"You wouldn't dare."
I held my hands up in surrender, and we exchanged smiles as she wiped down the table top. I took the drink and went outside into the damp streets. I took a deep breath of the moist air, and after a short pause, let it flow out of me with natural grace.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Undef.
What is life but a masquerade ball,
where pretense is the rule that masters us all?
It seems that I am alone in having the gall
to tear off my mask, and let it fall.
Suddenly pretenseless, I am defenseless,
ruse-less, tacitly screaming "Abuse this!"
Being maskless, I am by nature tactless,
affrontingly faithless, faceless, raceless.
where pretense is the rule that masters us all?
It seems that I am alone in having the gall
to tear off my mask, and let it fall.
Suddenly pretenseless, I am defenseless,
ruse-less, tacitly screaming "Abuse this!"
Being maskless, I am by nature tactless,
affrontingly faithless, faceless, raceless.
Friday, February 6, 2009
The Main Road - Chapter 5 - The Necklace
So I'm writing a book called The Main Road. Here's one of the semi-completed chapters. Enjoy.
It was my first real gift to her. By real I mean expensive. I was just a kid trying to make it in the world when we got married, so I couldn't afford to get her anything nice. I saved whatever I could from my inadequate paycheck, sometimes a lot and sometimes not. After about a year and a half of saving up and a simple first anniversary, I had enough. Since I had no taste or sense of jewelry, I brought a picture of her with me to the store.
The attendant was really helpful. I spent the whole afternoon in the store learning about the different cuts, stones, symbolisms, and prices. About mid-afternoon, the attendant presented a simple necklace with a platinum ring and a bar holding a small diamond in the middle. When the attendant brought it out from the case, a sparkle of light caught the diamond and reflected into my eyes. In the presence of the momentary blindness, I saw her smile.
I knew this was the one, and looking at the picture, the attendant said it suited. I expressed doubt, not because I wasn’t going to buy it, but because you don't show your cards until you agree on a price. I could afford it, but barely. After a little coaxing by the attendant and skillful bargaining by me, we agreed on a price. I had bought my first real gift to her.
I spent some of the leftover money on a dinner I was going to prepare. I thought about roses, but I just didn't understand them. I decided to keep the leftover money in a fund devoted just to her. I wouldn't use the money for any other purpose. I walked home up the main street, thinking about her smile in my blindness, and how happy she would be. I tried to imagine her with it on, but I couldn't picture it. I guess it would spoil the surprise.
I came home and she was in the back working on the garden. I hid the gift and put the food in the fridge. I went outside and told her to take a nap, wash up, and come down for dinner. I was going to cook today. After the initial reluctance she finally went upstairs. She knew I was up to something, but that was part of the fun. I sang while I prepared dinner, imagining her occasional giggle at my clever lyrics through the sound of the sizzling vegetables.
The smell of the food slowly rose up to her. "I'm going to nap now darling, wake me up when it's time to eat." It was the first time she called me darling. It was probably as enjoyable and flattering to me as it was to her saying it. I laughed heartily. I stopped singing, and meditated on all the good days we had ahead of us, and as much as I couldn't picture it, I thought about her wearing the necklace.
I set the table and went upstairs. I knocked lightly and peeked in. She was fast asleep, a black evening dress laid on the chair next to the bed. I smiled, as now I pictured her standing there in her dress in the soft light of candles. It wasn't a complete picture, but the picture was being filled. I showered and changed.
I awoke her with a kiss and told her to come down in five minutes. She protested. "Thirty. My hair is all messed up from the pillow." The food would've been cold and my mood would’ve been drowned by my hunger. "Ten." and I made my way to the door. A pillow hit me in the back. I turned around and picked it up, facing a lady with a mischievous smile. Normally I would've succumbed to the playfulness, but not today. I walked back to her side with the pillow in hand, my own mischievous smile showing. As she prepared for the worst, I laid it down on her lap. "I'll see you downstairs."
She descended upon a table full of food and candlelight. My words fail to describe her, and so I won’t try. All I could do was smile; I was at a momentary loss for words. Dinner went by with nice conversation, both of us laughing a lot. I don’t remember anything we said during dinner, as I was concentrating on finding the perfect time to present the gift to her. As she took the dishes to the sink, I slipped the box under her napkin. When she returned to the seat, she lifted the napkin and saw it. She looked at me confused. I couldn’t fight smiling. It wasn’t even a charming smile; it was like a little kid that just got candy smile.
She opened the box and her eyes opened wide. She was in shock for about 10 seconds. She closed the case, handed it back to me. “Return it.” My smile faded.
“What?”
“Return it please.” Now it was me in shock.
“You don’t like it?”
“I don’t know what to make of this. I love it, but I can’t accept it.”
I swallowed my pride. I explained to her everything. I told her how I felt like this was something I had to do for her as well as myself. I told her how I saved up, and how it was a reminder to put her before myself. I told her about how I saw her smile in the blindness, and that this necklace belonged to no one except her. “Someone else wearing your smile wouldn’t be fair to you.” is what I said.
After seeing my resolve and considering how she loved it, she accepted it. I let her put it on as I went to go grab a camera. “I had the hardest time imagining you in this necklace, so I’ll take a picture in case I have a hard time remembering in the future.” Besides, I was unable to describe it in words, so a picture would’ve been crucial for describing to people. I took a picture with just her, and then one together. After developing the film, she kept the one with us, and I kept the one with just her. That night was magical.
She didn’t have a jewelry box so she kept the necklace in the box that it came in. She hid it in her drawer, never wearing it. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I got it for her to wear, but she wouldn’t wear it. “It’s too valuable to wear everyday. It’s for special occasions.” she told me. It was hers now, so I let her decide what to do with it, but had it been me, I would’ve worn it everyday.
A while passed and one day I came home to an overturned house and a distressed wife sitting at the kitchen table. My first intuition was that we had been burglarized. I went and consoled her, but she wouldn’t look at me nor allow me to come close to her. “I lost it.” she said repeatedly to me. I didn’t understand what she meant.
The fact that she had to blatantly tell me that she had lost the necklace was probably torture to her. That’s what it took for me to understand what had happened though. It was strange now that I look back on it. Right after she told me, she looked up at me with desperate eyes, alert for any emotion. I remember her words registering in my head, and I fully understood their meaning. But what took precedence were her eyes. They seemed to show genuine fear. Before I could think of anything, my arms were extended towards her.
She withdrew and shielded her head. My arms wrapped around her, and I poured my love into them. She was confused, as was I, but this felt right. My reflexes reacted before I could come to the conclusion myself. Now that my mind caught up, I gently whispered in her ear. “It’s alright. Don’t be scared.” Those words hit home. She became real tense at first, but with each ounce of love poured out, with each passing whisper, she relaxed.
I felt her hands move. They went from protecting her head to wrapping around me. Her feet touched the floor. She stood up and accepted my hug for what it was. I wanted to talk to her and wash away all her concerns, but this was probably not the time for talking. We just held each other.
She loosened her grip and looked at me. Her eyes had changed. She was still slightly scared, but she mostly understood me. She was more important. I put my hand on the back of her head and placed it on my shoulder. I couldn’t say what I had to say staring in her eyes. I don’t know why, but it’s just how I felt at that moment.
In the softest tone I could, I said “You know why I got you the necklace right? The necklace itself is just metal. It’s just a symbol used to convey something. Love. For you, I wanted it to represent my commitment to put you before me. For me, it represented your smile. Now that the necklace is gone, I’ve lost one of your smiles. However, it’s nothing compared to the real thing, and I don’t want to lose that too.” I could feel her smile. I leaned back and saw it. Yeah, it was worth far more than 1.5 years of saving up. The night went late.
Thinking back, it wouldn’t have worked out if I looked at her saying what I said. I don’t know if it would’ve come out the way it did. Instead of concentrating on what I had to say, I would’ve been concentrating on her, her eyes. She would have been scanning my expression instead of concentrating on my words. The moment of preference saved both of us.
It was my first real gift to her. By real I mean expensive. I was just a kid trying to make it in the world when we got married, so I couldn't afford to get her anything nice. I saved whatever I could from my inadequate paycheck, sometimes a lot and sometimes not. After about a year and a half of saving up and a simple first anniversary, I had enough. Since I had no taste or sense of jewelry, I brought a picture of her with me to the store.
The attendant was really helpful. I spent the whole afternoon in the store learning about the different cuts, stones, symbolisms, and prices. About mid-afternoon, the attendant presented a simple necklace with a platinum ring and a bar holding a small diamond in the middle. When the attendant brought it out from the case, a sparkle of light caught the diamond and reflected into my eyes. In the presence of the momentary blindness, I saw her smile.
I knew this was the one, and looking at the picture, the attendant said it suited. I expressed doubt, not because I wasn’t going to buy it, but because you don't show your cards until you agree on a price. I could afford it, but barely. After a little coaxing by the attendant and skillful bargaining by me, we agreed on a price. I had bought my first real gift to her.
I spent some of the leftover money on a dinner I was going to prepare. I thought about roses, but I just didn't understand them. I decided to keep the leftover money in a fund devoted just to her. I wouldn't use the money for any other purpose. I walked home up the main street, thinking about her smile in my blindness, and how happy she would be. I tried to imagine her with it on, but I couldn't picture it. I guess it would spoil the surprise.
I came home and she was in the back working on the garden. I hid the gift and put the food in the fridge. I went outside and told her to take a nap, wash up, and come down for dinner. I was going to cook today. After the initial reluctance she finally went upstairs. She knew I was up to something, but that was part of the fun. I sang while I prepared dinner, imagining her occasional giggle at my clever lyrics through the sound of the sizzling vegetables.
The smell of the food slowly rose up to her. "I'm going to nap now darling, wake me up when it's time to eat." It was the first time she called me darling. It was probably as enjoyable and flattering to me as it was to her saying it. I laughed heartily. I stopped singing, and meditated on all the good days we had ahead of us, and as much as I couldn't picture it, I thought about her wearing the necklace.
I set the table and went upstairs. I knocked lightly and peeked in. She was fast asleep, a black evening dress laid on the chair next to the bed. I smiled, as now I pictured her standing there in her dress in the soft light of candles. It wasn't a complete picture, but the picture was being filled. I showered and changed.
I awoke her with a kiss and told her to come down in five minutes. She protested. "Thirty. My hair is all messed up from the pillow." The food would've been cold and my mood would’ve been drowned by my hunger. "Ten." and I made my way to the door. A pillow hit me in the back. I turned around and picked it up, facing a lady with a mischievous smile. Normally I would've succumbed to the playfulness, but not today. I walked back to her side with the pillow in hand, my own mischievous smile showing. As she prepared for the worst, I laid it down on her lap. "I'll see you downstairs."
She descended upon a table full of food and candlelight. My words fail to describe her, and so I won’t try. All I could do was smile; I was at a momentary loss for words. Dinner went by with nice conversation, both of us laughing a lot. I don’t remember anything we said during dinner, as I was concentrating on finding the perfect time to present the gift to her. As she took the dishes to the sink, I slipped the box under her napkin. When she returned to the seat, she lifted the napkin and saw it. She looked at me confused. I couldn’t fight smiling. It wasn’t even a charming smile; it was like a little kid that just got candy smile.
She opened the box and her eyes opened wide. She was in shock for about 10 seconds. She closed the case, handed it back to me. “Return it.” My smile faded.
“What?”
“Return it please.” Now it was me in shock.
“You don’t like it?”
“I don’t know what to make of this. I love it, but I can’t accept it.”
I swallowed my pride. I explained to her everything. I told her how I felt like this was something I had to do for her as well as myself. I told her how I saved up, and how it was a reminder to put her before myself. I told her about how I saw her smile in the blindness, and that this necklace belonged to no one except her. “Someone else wearing your smile wouldn’t be fair to you.” is what I said.
After seeing my resolve and considering how she loved it, she accepted it. I let her put it on as I went to go grab a camera. “I had the hardest time imagining you in this necklace, so I’ll take a picture in case I have a hard time remembering in the future.” Besides, I was unable to describe it in words, so a picture would’ve been crucial for describing to people. I took a picture with just her, and then one together. After developing the film, she kept the one with us, and I kept the one with just her. That night was magical.
She didn’t have a jewelry box so she kept the necklace in the box that it came in. She hid it in her drawer, never wearing it. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I got it for her to wear, but she wouldn’t wear it. “It’s too valuable to wear everyday. It’s for special occasions.” she told me. It was hers now, so I let her decide what to do with it, but had it been me, I would’ve worn it everyday.
A while passed and one day I came home to an overturned house and a distressed wife sitting at the kitchen table. My first intuition was that we had been burglarized. I went and consoled her, but she wouldn’t look at me nor allow me to come close to her. “I lost it.” she said repeatedly to me. I didn’t understand what she meant.
The fact that she had to blatantly tell me that she had lost the necklace was probably torture to her. That’s what it took for me to understand what had happened though. It was strange now that I look back on it. Right after she told me, she looked up at me with desperate eyes, alert for any emotion. I remember her words registering in my head, and I fully understood their meaning. But what took precedence were her eyes. They seemed to show genuine fear. Before I could think of anything, my arms were extended towards her.
She withdrew and shielded her head. My arms wrapped around her, and I poured my love into them. She was confused, as was I, but this felt right. My reflexes reacted before I could come to the conclusion myself. Now that my mind caught up, I gently whispered in her ear. “It’s alright. Don’t be scared.” Those words hit home. She became real tense at first, but with each ounce of love poured out, with each passing whisper, she relaxed.
I felt her hands move. They went from protecting her head to wrapping around me. Her feet touched the floor. She stood up and accepted my hug for what it was. I wanted to talk to her and wash away all her concerns, but this was probably not the time for talking. We just held each other.
She loosened her grip and looked at me. Her eyes had changed. She was still slightly scared, but she mostly understood me. She was more important. I put my hand on the back of her head and placed it on my shoulder. I couldn’t say what I had to say staring in her eyes. I don’t know why, but it’s just how I felt at that moment.
In the softest tone I could, I said “You know why I got you the necklace right? The necklace itself is just metal. It’s just a symbol used to convey something. Love. For you, I wanted it to represent my commitment to put you before me. For me, it represented your smile. Now that the necklace is gone, I’ve lost one of your smiles. However, it’s nothing compared to the real thing, and I don’t want to lose that too.” I could feel her smile. I leaned back and saw it. Yeah, it was worth far more than 1.5 years of saving up. The night went late.
Thinking back, it wouldn’t have worked out if I looked at her saying what I said. I don’t know if it would’ve come out the way it did. Instead of concentrating on what I had to say, I would’ve been concentrating on her, her eyes. She would have been scanning my expression instead of concentrating on my words. The moment of preference saved both of us.
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