For everyone who knows me, it's painfully obvious (even though I try to cover it up) that I'm a bit overly-emotional in most situations. No matter if the emotion is one of happiness or one of sorrow, I think I either feel it more acutely than most, react to the feelings more dramatically than most, or perhaps a combination of both.
So I can imagine I'd probably seem pretty weird as of late, since I've been largely apathetic and placid. Why? Because -
4/20. National Pot Appreciation Day. I'm dressed for the occasion, although my celebration won't be nearly as exhilarating as some. Mostly, with Earth Day following on its heels, I feel like 4/20 is a day to celebrate the social and cultural atmosphere of America in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. Kids, if your parents were living in America during this era, ask them about it. Due to my academic interests and my collegiate infatuation with everything associated with that age, my parents have told me loads of tidbits about what it was like to be alive during that very special period in American History. I think that a passage from Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas does an excellent job of painting a picture of the collected stories, books, classes, and first-hand accounts I've come across:
The Scene: Late night (or early morning, it's not so clear), Raoul Duke is sitting in his Las Vegas hotel room, readying himself to write. He puts his hands to the keys of his typewriter, and a memory washes over him, engulfing him in flashbacks of his experiences over the past few years. . . "Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime, the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. But no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time in the world. Whatever it meant. There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
So - that is what I'm celebrating today. A time in the history of the United States where so many great ideas were born. Equality for all races. Increased personal freedom in the face of backwards-thinking preservationists. The recognition (and increased toleration) of our many different schemes of religion, philosophy, morality. The birth of Rock and Roll. The loosening of formalisms. The rise of Kerouac's "mad ones." It really was a time unlike any before, and as of now, unlike any after.
I need to change my sleeping patterns. Sleep comes disgustingly late, arising too early for my body but too late for the demands of our world. Habits are hard to change. It's not helpful that I hate to sleep. As I enter the space between waking life and dreams, the pockets of muscle tremors that jolt me awake also remind me that there's an experience I could be having instead of laying paralyzed and numb.
The other side of it is that I also love the morning. Due to my late habitual bedtime, there have been a few early-mornings when I've watched the sun rise, the dawn break, and heard the morning birds sing. I can't help but think how nice it would be to get up with the sun after a night's full sleep. The morning hours have an aura of peaceful solitude. It feels like you could actually own those hours of the day; each and every person could have a piece of time at his or her own disposal. The promise of an untouched day like a morning glory, blossomed and dewy, ready to pick: the petals closing around opportunity as the dawn moves West along terrestrial latitudes.
The night feels opposite. Night is for congregation - bacchanalian hours used to release, to explore, and to be enveloped in human interaction. Without this, night is lonely. It's dark, quiet, foreboding and intensely introspective. Alone, night is reflection. Like the moon reflects on a dark body of water, the consciousness reflects against the supertemporal trenches of individual experience.
I really want the birth and not the death of the day.
Friday, March 5, 2010
I do not believe in fairytales. Interesting enough, since I'm watching Chocolat, which, by most peoples' ideas, would be a fairytale in its finest. I also have a less than honest man in my life. I'm not happy.
I'm pretty sure that if I wasn't lonely and wanting in the company-category, I would get rid of facebook. It's such a waste of time. I actually hate it. As nice as it used to be to catch up (even if mostly by stalking) with friends and accquaintences from the past, it seems like the sum effect of facebook could be described with a bell-curve-ish graph. On one end, pre-facebook, the contact, both real and imagined, with whom we'd lost touch along the years was very minimal. In some instances, it was probably close to zero. Then, when facebook was created and during the subsequent ballooning of its reach, the contact with the forgotten and misplaced ballooned as well. You could search and search for old friends who were new members. Every new friend (and there were probably many of them every single day!) was a new adventure. The warm, comfortable, curious fulfillment of reconnecting with all of the people of the past was pervasive enough to allow one to ignore how much time was spent parusing profiles and posting pictures.
Alas, the novelty rush of every good thing must come to an end. With facebook, I think it's nearing its end. The guys over at facebook, inc try and add new features and new "apps" to entice the experienced facebooker that the experience can, once again, seem new and exciting. Yet, regardless of how many "farmvilles" they add, I'm sorry to report that it's just not working. Not for me, at least. In place of the rampant curiousity, the excited search results, and the entertaining picture escapades, is a hollow shell of the former exuberance, made from monotonous habits, addicted minions, and inadequate replacements for actual, real-life curiousity and companionship.
So. . . what is the enlightented facebooker supposed to do? "Deactivating" my facebook isn't an option - I want to be honest here about my abilities - but some sort of self-monitoring needs to happen, and it needs to happen soon. Mostly, I think the most probable way to combat empty habits is to re-fill my life with satisfying hobbies and satiating academia. Losing my center over the past yearandahalf surely hasn't helped my facebook hours wane. It's much harder to go looking for yourself once you're gone rather than seeking hours of mindless chatter-activity on the internet.
Now the only thing I have to do is to make a plan. And remember my hobbies. And get off the computer for the night.
Okay - off to the grocery store/cleaning/reading. I haven't had enough human contact today. Ugh. Besides dropping Mark off at school for his exam after I had finished my exam, I haven't spoken to a single other person face-to-face. Ugh. Ugh Ugh Ugh. Plus I don't feel good. It's definitely one of those days when I wish I had someone to take care of me, feed me, and clean up for me like my mom used to. Sigh.
If there is one word that best describes the most recent months of life, it's definitely tumultuous.
If there is one word that best describes the present moments of my life, it's definitely phenomenal.
Christmas is coming up. The holidays are such a warm and romantic time of year. There are so many things I want to do before they're over: 1. Go to the zoo to see the lights and the animals. 2. Go snowboarding, maybe even stay for a couple days up north in my cabin. 2a. If in Michigan, hopefully there is snow, and therefore snowshoeing and fires in the fireplace and snowmobiling would be possible! 2b. Also, if in Michigan, wine tastinggggggggggggg :) 3. Find a place to have a fire and roast chestnuts. 4. Oglebay lights? 5. Shop in NYC!
Okay, that's all I can think of for now. . . it seems like there were many many more things I wanted to do. . . weird. . .
The Christmas Tree is up and lighted. It's really beautiful. I'll post a picture as soon as I get the ornaments on it. While decorating, movies kept me company. First, Enchanted was on. Then, Marley and Me. Finally, You've Got Mail. All in all, it was a gloriously sloppy romantic marathon. It made me sorta lonely to think that real life is never like the lives that the movie-characters live. It's true, however, that real life does and can compare to all those fairy tales. The issue is whether or not the movie-vision is allowed to relegate reality into the shadows, letting the beautiful singular lucid moments slip by, unnoticed and unappreciated. For the past month or so, I've been living a string of these ... moments. It can be difficult for me to let go of control, to let myself be encompassed by the present and to quit obsessing over all I perceive to be secretly professed expressions of doubt or sudden changes of heart. It's a big step, but I've never been so compelled to take it.
Okay, it's late. I'm kiiinda tired. Until tomorrow. . .
