and more letters

"Most of us are born clones and only with great difficulty can become ourselves." RC

fine

"Happiness wants to be worked for and earned. But you just want to consume happiness. It runs away from you because it doesn't want to be consumed by you." WR

subtle feats

Sometimes, I have the hardest time talking to this one girl friend of mine. Whenever one of us is doing really poorly, we get along great, giving solid advise, support and humor to one another in turn - bad weather friends I guess you could say - but otherwise we tend to live in such disparate worlds that finding commonality relevant to the moments of our daily lives can be a real strain. I remember one time we were at a bookstore trying to chat, but the conversation was flawed with awkward silences that were only alleviated by a surprise run-in with one of her other friends. The two of them immediately hit it off, chatting and giggling about pajama pants and the anticipation of the primping process for her friend's up-coming first date. I watched my friend’s entire demeanor change from one of lethargy to exuberance upon her entrance. Back and forth they went like two little school girls, as my friend ranted about how she couldn’t believe how ratty and hole-filled her friend’s pajama pants were, and her friend giggled and shouted back about how proud she was of them. On they went, back and forth, and back and forth, with me as the reluctant audience for their two-person farce. I wasn’t amused, but mustered a forced half-smile as I thought to myself that maybe I’m just too serious to enjoy the little things in life. I feigned mild interest, but really was just trying to think up excuses to leave as they started discussing plans for us leaving the bookstore and doing movie night instead.

What are the sources of our awkwardness? Is it genuinely unconquerable differences alone?

Act I. I had just started reading Ulysses. As I began telling her how excited I was with it, she told me how she'd wanted to read it too and now maybe she would, especially since she was going to Ireland soon. I saw her a couple weeks later and again, she asked how my book was going. I got really excited, relaying examples of Joyce's style and telling her how rough it was to get through, but how completely worthwhile of an experience it was becoming. This time her response was to say that she thought she read it back in high school and liked it a lot too. I catch her all the time telling little fibs to either sound like she knows something she doesn't or to get out of something by being polite. I didn't respond to the remark directly. A month or so later I went to pick her and her boyfriend up from the airport after their trip to Ireland. During the car ride, she started telling me how every time she saw something referencing James Joyce or Ulysses, she thought of me. And again, she said that she thought she might have read it in high school but couldn’t remember. Her boyfriend laughed and said that no one who’s actually read Ulysses has forgotten that (s)he’s read it. Now why couldn’t I just say that? I didn’t want to offend her so instead I silently passed judgment, maintaining awkwardness.

Act II. [weeks later] We walked into her apartment and I noticed a copy of Foreign Policy magazine on her coffee table. In a tone that implied my assured doubts, I asked if she subscribed to it. Defensively she said she cared a lot about foreign policy, but again I responded suspiciously, saying I didn’t think that sentiment was strong enough within her to urge actual investment, especially since picking it up revealed a copy of Cosmo beneath it. Curtly she confessed that the top magazine was her roommate’s and then continued defending her shared interest in global issues, all the while giving me the impression that she was trying to convince herself much more so than she thought she was convincing me. I dropped the subject.

Act III. That same day, we got onto the subject of adolescent sexuality and she started telling me about an interview she heard on NPR with the director of Towelhead. I bit my tongue and reframed from sidetracking the issue at hand when she called his film "art" and talked about it with admiration, but instead chose to focus on what bothered me most: she kept using the word “normal” when comparing typical sexual experiences with those less common. Every time she said it I’d interject, reminding her that there is no such standard and that that is just a limiting term used to justify mainstream insularity. She would immediately agree, saying that it was just a bad word choice, only to slip and use the term again a couple sentences later. Long after the conversation had ended, as we were about to part ways for the day, she made a point of reiterating that she didn’t believe that there is such a thing as normal and it really was just a poor word choice. Vaguely, I told her I knew what she said versus what she had meant and left it at that. I don't think she liked my response.

In fact what I meant by such a statement was that I know that she doesn’t want to think in such rigid terms but in actuality she still does. I catch her repeatedly trying to justify herself in front of me, and me repeatedly backing down from creating conflict. Though the progression of these three incidents may be subtle, my mentality and tone changed increasingly in each. Whatever awkwardness we may have comes from me not saying what's on my mind and her knowing me well enough to be suspicious of my thoughts and hence defensive, if not self-righteous.

Is it mean of me to be openly critical? Do I too sometimes fake knowledge and know-how or just plain slip-up and say what I don't mean at times? I think my falsely playing into it or not saying anything at all is even more contemptuous than my speaking out. I prefer my friends pointing out my faults, otherwise I’ll continue fooling myself into thinking I’m something I’m not. At this point if I have to risk my friends thinking that I’m being judgmental, then so what; I’d rather be honest with them in the hopes that they’ll pause for a moment and think about how close their self-perception is to actuality. I’d rather them think I'm condescending or just plain wrong than not think at all. And I very well could be wrong; they’re just open-ended observations. But this is my new way of dealing with people; no more playing into their perceptions, acting as the passive observer, when I knowingly see contradictions.

I think I’ve already pissed off two of my friends now with my not-so-subtle comments. But it's not that I'm being outright confrontational with them because despite what they think, I’m not judging them. I want my friends to be who they are; it’s not my place to tell them what that is. I just think it’s important for people to step back every now and then to make sure that who they think they are is really what they are. And I hope they do the same for me.

looking forward

I’m trying to get my act together by learning focus. I keep forgetting that it’s not a matter of staying on some silly schedule, rushing through things just to check them off, but rather doing what I want, what feels right, and taking the time to do it right. I got sidetracked this year with a lot of my own personal problems and a sudden newfound interest in current events and issues (which in retrospect I think was subconsciously sparked as a diversion for my inability to deal with my own problems, or at the very least, my attempt to put them into the perspective of the bigger picture). When I say “sidetracked” though, I don’t mean it to carry its usual negative connotation as both interests were important and necessary pursuits. And they still are, but just not as explicitly.

After months of telling myself I was going to, I’ve finally started reading Ray Carney’s mailbag from the beginning and I’m slapping myself for not having started it sooner; it’s helping me in exactly the way I thought it would and of which I have been needing for quite some time now. I have been paralyzed this entire summer by an overwhelming sense of loneliness: the more I pursue my interests the further they distance me from everything (and everyone) I know. Reading a good book or watching a good film seemed to only squelch the feeling temporarily before I'd once again return to feeling disillusioned. As much as I knew that I could no longer maintain the life I’m currently living, I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t cut out to take the necessary steps to break away.

But I've found solace in reading about other people struggling similarly in isolation. These past couple weeks, I've come to a number of conclusions, which I am planning on elaborating with specific examples in upcoming entries. I've lost interest in trying to explain or justify myself to anyone and I finally feel comfortable enough within my own endeavors that I no longer feel lonely. Of course, there will be moments of doubt, but overall not only has my mentality changed, but the way I'm dealing with the people around me has as well. I'm doing what I need to do for myself and realizing that I can't help people that don't want to be helped (and yes, I'm aware of how much that's applied to myself from both perspectives).

Most importantly, I'm back into art and learning. I'm no longer treating them as distractions but as genuine pursuits. I've been wasting too much time keeping up with the latest film news and what-not, so I'm going back to the classics and the greats one director at a time (though of course I'll still be watching miscellaneously chosen films along the way). I will be trudging through these works much slower than usual as I'm going to start taking the time to study them, reflect, read about them, and write. As Carney put it, I'm struggling for verbal consciousness. This is my new high priority mission.

There will be a film blog sooooooon. So far it's been rough and extremely frustrating, but I refuse to quit this time.

[This was a useless rant written rather quickly, but various social drama inhibited me from taking the time I had planned for writing today.]

sip, sip

"Though I have a broken heart, I'm too busy to be heart broken."

Southern Comfort

"What a curious thing to be so uptight about. Nature delights in diversity, why don't human beings?"

work

I got yet another bigoted e-mail forward from my co-worker today. This time it was about immigration and how these new immigrants (i.e. Mexicans, though it never explicitly said so) make no attempt to assimilate into American society, how they demand all the perks of native-born citizens but refuse to adapt to the culture or learn the language. Instead they snidely snub the melting pot ideology and cling to their own customs, which the e-mail insisted they were expected to reject the moment they crossed the border (and I suppose a few good Mexican restaurants are all that should be allowed to survive the melting pot's flames). The forward went on about how immigrants in the early 1900s (which it listed explicitly as Irish, Italians, and other European-only nationalities) came to this country and fell to the floors at Ellis Island in gratitude, kissed the concrete and readily tossed aside their heritages to embrace the toil and freedom duality that constituted joining the American working class. And they didn't even whine about the lack of labor laws! ...right. I must have been out sick the day my high school American history teacher went over how Americans-born citizens were lined up on the ports of New York City with welcoming baskets and volunteer sponsors for every new Irish immigrant. I guess I didn't realize that ethnic neighborhoods like Little Italy and Chinatown are only modern tourist attractions and bear no historical relevance of how immigrants in the past tried to preserve their cultural identities as well.

Of course anything political or religious is forbidden to be distributed via company property, but that doesn't stop me getting e-mails listing why it's un-Christian to vote for Obama, why global warming is just another for-profit, liberal hoax, or why Muslims are out for world domination and Christians beware. I'd complain, but a part of me can't help but stutter in shocked curiosity as to what kind of people find such lazy validation for their beliefs by redistributing e-mail forwards of this kind. And although I'm mainly using conservative messages as examples, as these are the only forwards of this type that I ever receive, I highly doubt any group is free from adherers to such propagandist offenses.

I've definitely had enough of my co-workers, but I can't say it hasn't been an enlightening, if not disconcerting, experience. Surrounding oneself with only people of the same opinions can yield a false sense of absolute correctness. I've gained so much insight into all sorts of subcultures and opinions which so much contradict my own and of which I would have never otherwise had such direct exposure to. And since no one contradicts them, they unleash opinions that they would probably never say if they knew they were amid unbelievers. Every now and then I get into arguments with one of them, which I thoroughly enjoy because he generally tears me to pieces. He can throw so many facts and incidents in as evidence for his arguments that my novice knowledge really has to struggle to put up a good fight. I may disagree with most everything he says, but I appreciate how intensely he educates himself, and encourages me to do the same, whereas most people (on both sides) just hold their stubborn opinions in ignorance, relying on cheap-shot e-mails for credibility. Perhaps it has always been so, but I tire of the endless monologues and crave to both listen and participate in genuine discourse between opposing opinions. Instead it's all about picking a side, as if choosing which sports team to root for, and both compromise and understanding are considered forms of defeat.

"i have not the least desire to save my carcase"

"If only oblivion were attainable, if it could last forever, if my eyes as they closed could gently transcend sleep and dissolve into non-being and I should lose consciousness of my existence for all time to come, if it were possible for my being to dissolve in one drop of ink, in one bar of music, in one ray of coloured light, and then these waves and forms were to grow and grow to such infinite size that in the end they faded and disappeared - then I should have attained my desire." SH

over it

I have returned to life, different but always the same. Unlike before, I will no longer lie to appease their deviated truths, but unlike most recently, I will not expect what cannot be. I cannot validate my principles with open disdain. Blatant honesty changes nothing of the outside world: my diatribes yield only fruitless frustration. No one cares. I am making the choice to remain hidden, sharing only pieces and very few. No longer do I wish to delude myself with that disingenuous moment of perceived connection. It never was. I cannot continue to divert my gaze from the solitude that will shadow my life always. I am strongest kept within myself, expecting nothing and ever at a distance.

( )

"All my life has passed within four walls." SH

redecorating

Yup, between oversleeping, exercising, and chit-chatting with various peeps, I didn't get a chance to finish writing what I wanted to post. I'm trying to post daily (yeah, that'll last a week at most), so this goes up instead. I will cover my walls yet!

starting... now!

I use this space for the purpose of venting and self-motivating, though lately it’s been about 90% venting and 10% motivation. In an effort to even this out, I’ll be posting a larger variety of doings and thoughts just to keep me doing and thinking. I can’t imagine many of them will be worthwhile to know for my audience, but again I stress, I’m not writing this with you in mind. So suffer the boredom of my randomness! Well, at least until I figure out what I direction I want to go.

Oh, and I also take requests, so if anyone has anything they want to know or wants me to try, let me know. Though of course, the level of effort I put into it will depend upon how much it interests or challenges me.

no more false dreams

I have a plan. Due to superstitions though, I’m not sharing precise details. Basically I’m giving myself exactly one year to clean up my act and if that goes accordingly, then I will do what I’m planning on doing. Of course all this can be easily tripped up by outside forces. It’s selfish of me to refer to them so coldly, but again, I don’t want to get into it. There will always be stumbling blocks and so long as I keep waiting for them to subside, I will always have a plethora of excuses at my disposal to justify my inactivity. I’m tired of my own excuses. So whether this pans out or not, at least I’m working towards something specific now. I am learning to be content within myself, not to judge others so critically, and not to make such an absurd spectacle of myself. It’s a different way of not needing anyone, one which no longer implies such dismal abandon and isolation.

This lot is life and I will work through it, warmly.

breathe

At two in the morning she lay soaking in the tub, a razor blade on the floor and a book resting on the bath's edge. She chose neither, nor herself. Instead she sat there curled up at first, dripping and impalpably nipped, then stretched out at end, not really crying but then not really not crying either. At last the frantic madness had subsided, and though her face remained marked, the water soothed, camouflaging her bitter defeat. But in her resistance a delicate thought escaped her breath and whispered with illuminating veracity the reasoning with which she had so diligently concealed in stubborn stagnation. Although her repeated failures obviated the infiniteness of her regenerated options, she couldn't help but feel an anti-climactic reluctance to accept a continuance. But now the absurdity of her circumstance stripped her shields bare, and the perhaps ironical conclusion seeped unimpeded into her every warmly opened pore. Yes, finally she understood that the force which so consistently inhibits her pursuit of death is in fact the same one which inhibits her from pursuing life: both the lock she flees from and the one she retreats to require the same key. Each instigation requires a selfishness she cannot bear to wield for her conditioned guilt immobilizes every flinch into futility or submission. So as her beloved escape becomes no more obtainable than that which she fears, the two passageways suddenly appear to be of the same creed. Only by comparing the opposing vastness and emptiness which lie behind each door does the choice become clear. With hesitation, she treads.

and now to introduce my newest friends!

Recently purchased books that perhaps I'll get around to reading (among all sorts of other tasks that I can't seem to get around to accomplishing and which will most likely be further delayed due to the following):

Midnight Movies - Hoberman & Rosenbaum
The Revolution of Every Day Life - Raoul Vanetgem
The Arcades Project - Walter Benjamin
The Films of Mike Leigh - Carney & Quart

The Blind Owl - Sadegh Hedayat
Discovering Orson Welles - Jonathan Rosenbaum
A People's History of the United States - Howard Zinn

(pending submittal...)
History of Western Philosophy - Bertrand Russell
Aurelia & Other Writings - Gerard De Nerval
For a New Novel: Essays on Fiction - Alain Robbe-Grillet

yummy, yum, yum

delay

Between a long weekend with family and Democracy Now!'s extended coverage for the DNC and the RNC, I'm falling behind in writing, online reading, and movie watching.

My writing will pick up again soon.

first, awaken

"If children resist discipline as a part of their playful nature, adults rebel against traffic signs as a symbol of their disrespect and dissatisfaction about the imposed order of a system that is indifferent to them."

balding

So I figured out why my vacuum cleaner doesn't work so good lately.

Maybe I should clean more often.