As a continuation from my last blog...my life is not without blots of ink. I can surely remember events that took place before reading The Catcher in the Rye. For example the time I jumped down an entire flight of stairs after waking up from a recurring nightmare of mine or the time I freaked out when I let a bird into the house. These major events have permanently imprinted themselves in my brain. Not only were they riveting moments, but I also spent a lot of time thinking about them afterward: the act of memorization. Everything following or preceding these events though are more or less a blur.
It is interesting though because unless you have some way to confirm these memories, they may not have happened at all. They may have just been dreams you had that you have convinced yourself took place in real life. I think the brain has a reduced ability to distinguish dream from reality of events that occurred years prior. I remember reading an old diary several months ago and being yet again surprised at the contents. I was reading something I swear I had dreamed instead of actually experiencing. Unfortunately I have no way of confirming any of it. It's not all that important to me to confirm my past though. Dreams, reality... they both are playing a part in who I am, so why does it matter that I sometimes can't tell the difference.
After descending from the attic of old memories with a load of junk, I joined my family for dinner and explained to them why I was up there for so long. My mother then shared with me that one of her patients at work experiences short-term memory loss. Sure enough, that's exactly what I dreamt about that night. Although it wasn't inherently scary, I'd consider it a nightmare - as it is one of my greatest fears. It was an extremely fragmented dream. I would experience something and black out shortly thereafter, and almost as if waking up from a dream I would open my eyes and realize something just happened but not remembering what. This would go indefinitely until I actually woke up for real. This is exactly what happened with my book, I remember that I read it and I believe that I even liked it, but I have no idea what it's about. That's the scary part: remembering you forgot something. It's pretty incredible what your mind can fabricate while dreaming and its ability to cast the experience into oblivion.
Coming to the realization that life is both fragmented and fleeting, I can find comfort my own ability to both grasp and maintain the sense of me, regardless of where it came from. Pen in hand, inherent fear and all, I will let the ink run its course.
12/10/2008
12/08/2008
Fleeting Memories
While cleaning my things out of the attic of the house I used to live in, I came across a few pieces of paper folded up into an old notebook. After unfolding and reading the first few lines of what was written, I realized it was a story that I started to write in high school. I sort of regret writing it in pencil, for it was barely legible. I always liked writing in pencil; there's something about how the lead feels against the paper and how easy it is to correct a mistake. After four years though, the lines were somewhat faded and blurred together.
I didn't get much accomplished up there; I'll definitely need to make a second trip. I was easily distracted by old school work. It's infinitely fascinating going down memory lane. Imagine reading something you've written though, and having no memory of it. I sat there staring at an old book test I took elementary school on The Catcher in the Rye. It had my name on the paper and it was my handwriting, but I don't remember the book at all. Apparently I knew a lot about it, I scored a 100% on the exam. Re-reading my answers to the questions about the book though did nothing to dig out old memories. It was scary.
It's almost as if my life is being written in pencil...
I didn't get much accomplished up there; I'll definitely need to make a second trip. I was easily distracted by old school work. It's infinitely fascinating going down memory lane. Imagine reading something you've written though, and having no memory of it. I sat there staring at an old book test I took elementary school on The Catcher in the Rye. It had my name on the paper and it was my handwriting, but I don't remember the book at all. Apparently I knew a lot about it, I scored a 100% on the exam. Re-reading my answers to the questions about the book though did nothing to dig out old memories. It was scary.
It's almost as if my life is being written in pencil...
11/30/2008
Dried Up Tears
After sharing with a friend of mine that I had recently watched the film 'P.S. I Love You' she asked me if I cried at any point. I said no, and she asked me why. I didn't really know what to tell her. I just didn't. I only remember crying perhaps a handful of times in my entire life and I recall pretty clearly each event leading up to the emotionally induced tears.
There were a few times I shed some tears over scrapes and bruises around the age of twelve or so, but those were pretty insignificant events. Around the same time, my great grandfather died. I don't remember my first reaction to the news, but I know I did not cry at first. It was later in the day, after dinner while my family was in the living room. I was lying down on the couch face first and very randomly while my mother was talking, tears started streaming down my face, soaking into the couch cushion. It wasn't something I was used to. I glanced around the room and wondered why I was the only one crying. One strange thing about this is, I wasn't particularly close to my great grandfather. I had very brief, yet happy memories of him.
My memories of my childhood are very scattered, but I do remember certain bits and pieces with vivid clarity. I don't know the reason, but I used to induce tears as a way to put myself to sleep. This was probably during my middle teenage years. I would lay in bed staring up at the ceiling imagining the demise of close family members. The burning sensation in my eyes, two separate tears streaking down the sides of my face and onto my pillow gave me a strange source of comfort. It may or may not have been some sort of release for an unidentified factor of stress in my life at the time.
The last time was in a diner about three years ago. I won't go into the details because of their personal value, but I'll say that I had been drinking with some close friends after a pretty significant event in my life. At the table, after sharing with my friends what had happened, I stared at my folded hands for a good five minutes, and shortly thereafter had the sudden need to vomit. But instead, I started to cry. Quite profusely and violently I might add, I have never cried this hard, for this long in my life. It was totally unavoidable, I couldn't stop it.
In a way, I feel as though I used up all my emotional tears in that one night. The event that transpired changed my life forever. I had come to a realization of something I've been forever dreading. In my life, this was of most importance. Nothing could ever come close. And nothing has thus far. I have not shed a single tear since that day 3 years ago.
I never quite understood why people cry during movies, books, or after hearing something depressing on the news. I never did cry about them in the first place, but many of these events are occurring around the world every second. It may not be on the news, but somewhere in the world someone's father has just died. A mother has had her second miscarriage. A train has derailed and twenty people died. Why do people just cry about these things when they are reminded of them? Maybe that's it, they are reminded. And when this happens, they become immensely empathetic. Psychology! It's infinitely theoretical in my opinion.
I've lead myself to believe that nothing could ever surpass this one turning point in terms of how much it affected me emotionally. But what's strange is that I haven't cried about it since. If nothing else makes me as sad as the realization I came to that night, why do I not cry about it often? I am constantly thinking about it. It's always on my mind. Five minutes don't go by without the thought running its course throughout my brain.
Nothing a quick google search can't take care of! I came across this article. In case you don't feel like reading it, someone conducted a survey on the effects of a "sad" movie on both "normal" and "depressed" subjects. I put these words in quotes because I have many issues with semantics. In any case, they found that the depressed folks actually cried less than their normal counterparts. And suddenly I had an epiphany!
THEORY: I am suffering from long-term depression. I've been living with it for so long, everything just became a blur. It has made me become numb to everything around me. Depressed people don't cry because they have nothing to lose, while "normal" people cry because they have everything to lose.
Putting most of that theory aside, I can definitely come to the conclusion that I am indeed depressed and the root of it all seems to be the reason why I no longer cry.
Step 1 to recovery: Admitting you have a problem.
Step 2 to recovery: Do something about it.
This should be interesting.
There were a few times I shed some tears over scrapes and bruises around the age of twelve or so, but those were pretty insignificant events. Around the same time, my great grandfather died. I don't remember my first reaction to the news, but I know I did not cry at first. It was later in the day, after dinner while my family was in the living room. I was lying down on the couch face first and very randomly while my mother was talking, tears started streaming down my face, soaking into the couch cushion. It wasn't something I was used to. I glanced around the room and wondered why I was the only one crying. One strange thing about this is, I wasn't particularly close to my great grandfather. I had very brief, yet happy memories of him.
My memories of my childhood are very scattered, but I do remember certain bits and pieces with vivid clarity. I don't know the reason, but I used to induce tears as a way to put myself to sleep. This was probably during my middle teenage years. I would lay in bed staring up at the ceiling imagining the demise of close family members. The burning sensation in my eyes, two separate tears streaking down the sides of my face and onto my pillow gave me a strange source of comfort. It may or may not have been some sort of release for an unidentified factor of stress in my life at the time.
The last time was in a diner about three years ago. I won't go into the details because of their personal value, but I'll say that I had been drinking with some close friends after a pretty significant event in my life. At the table, after sharing with my friends what had happened, I stared at my folded hands for a good five minutes, and shortly thereafter had the sudden need to vomit. But instead, I started to cry. Quite profusely and violently I might add, I have never cried this hard, for this long in my life. It was totally unavoidable, I couldn't stop it.
In a way, I feel as though I used up all my emotional tears in that one night. The event that transpired changed my life forever. I had come to a realization of something I've been forever dreading. In my life, this was of most importance. Nothing could ever come close. And nothing has thus far. I have not shed a single tear since that day 3 years ago.
I never quite understood why people cry during movies, books, or after hearing something depressing on the news. I never did cry about them in the first place, but many of these events are occurring around the world every second. It may not be on the news, but somewhere in the world someone's father has just died. A mother has had her second miscarriage. A train has derailed and twenty people died. Why do people just cry about these things when they are reminded of them? Maybe that's it, they are reminded. And when this happens, they become immensely empathetic. Psychology! It's infinitely theoretical in my opinion.
I've lead myself to believe that nothing could ever surpass this one turning point in terms of how much it affected me emotionally. But what's strange is that I haven't cried about it since. If nothing else makes me as sad as the realization I came to that night, why do I not cry about it often? I am constantly thinking about it. It's always on my mind. Five minutes don't go by without the thought running its course throughout my brain.
Nothing a quick google search can't take care of! I came across this article. In case you don't feel like reading it, someone conducted a survey on the effects of a "sad" movie on both "normal" and "depressed" subjects. I put these words in quotes because I have many issues with semantics. In any case, they found that the depressed folks actually cried less than their normal counterparts. And suddenly I had an epiphany!
THEORY: I am suffering from long-term depression. I've been living with it for so long, everything just became a blur. It has made me become numb to everything around me. Depressed people don't cry because they have nothing to lose, while "normal" people cry because they have everything to lose.
Putting most of that theory aside, I can definitely come to the conclusion that I am indeed depressed and the root of it all seems to be the reason why I no longer cry.
Step 1 to recovery: Admitting you have a problem.
Step 2 to recovery: Do something about it.
This should be interesting.
11/24/2008
Selfishness
"Selfishness must always be forgiven you know, because there is no hope of a cure." - Jane Austen
Yesterday's quote of the day inspired me to write a little something about a trait in people I am constantly analyzing. I looked it up and I guess its a quote from her novel Mansfield Park. The only book I've read from Jane Austen is Pride and Prejudice, so I'm not quite sure exactly why she wrote it or how she really feels about selfish people. Obviously from the quote though, selfishness is constant and unchanging.
It is a theory of mine that the human race is motivated wholly by self interest - the view of a cynic. While it may appear that some folks are selfless, their actions in some way or another are going to benefit them. It is only human to be selfish, it's in our nature. It may be considered a selfless act to help someone in need, but how I see it is this: either they are helping someone else to make themselves look good, or to make them satisfied emotionally. Either way, they themselves are going to benefit. It's also human nature to be compassionate - though not everyone carries this trait. An example would be like the one I just described, or a simple as a mothers unending worry about her offspring. It's part of the reason the human race is so productive.
I suppose this is also a semantics issue. A stigma has been attached to the word selfish. When one person tells another person that they are selfish, what they are really saying is that the person is not compassionate, or respectful.
I have no problem admitting that I am a selfish, egocentric being. I am, and always will be the most important person in my life. A couple sentences into this blog, I looked up and saw an empty milk carton on the counter, next to my trash. Most people I know don't recycle. So I'm sitting here thinking, if all of my actions are really motivated by self-interest alone, why do I recycle? Nobody sees that I recycle, I don't get any money back from doing so, why do I do it? This is the point where I introduced compassion. I think most people have some sort of degree of compassion. Compassion, although beneficial for others, is just another way to make oneself feel better. And that's fine.
Yesterday's quote of the day inspired me to write a little something about a trait in people I am constantly analyzing. I looked it up and I guess its a quote from her novel Mansfield Park. The only book I've read from Jane Austen is Pride and Prejudice, so I'm not quite sure exactly why she wrote it or how she really feels about selfish people. Obviously from the quote though, selfishness is constant and unchanging.
It is a theory of mine that the human race is motivated wholly by self interest - the view of a cynic. While it may appear that some folks are selfless, their actions in some way or another are going to benefit them. It is only human to be selfish, it's in our nature. It may be considered a selfless act to help someone in need, but how I see it is this: either they are helping someone else to make themselves look good, or to make them satisfied emotionally. Either way, they themselves are going to benefit. It's also human nature to be compassionate - though not everyone carries this trait. An example would be like the one I just described, or a simple as a mothers unending worry about her offspring. It's part of the reason the human race is so productive.
I suppose this is also a semantics issue. A stigma has been attached to the word selfish. When one person tells another person that they are selfish, what they are really saying is that the person is not compassionate, or respectful.
I have no problem admitting that I am a selfish, egocentric being. I am, and always will be the most important person in my life. A couple sentences into this blog, I looked up and saw an empty milk carton on the counter, next to my trash. Most people I know don't recycle. So I'm sitting here thinking, if all of my actions are really motivated by self-interest alone, why do I recycle? Nobody sees that I recycle, I don't get any money back from doing so, why do I do it? This is the point where I introduced compassion. I think most people have some sort of degree of compassion. Compassion, although beneficial for others, is just another way to make oneself feel better. And that's fine.
11/21/2008
A Blog About Blogging!
Feeling the need to write and having not a clue in the world as to what to write about, I found a survey! Here goes...
Do you like the look and contents of your blog?
Being as lazy and carefree as I am, I picked one of the premade templates. It's pretty simple and easy on the eyes, so I like it just fine. The only thing I changed is the background. Regarding content - If I didn't like it, I wouldn't keep writing. Although I do often post a blog one day, and come back and edit it if something doesn't look right.
Does your family know about your blog?
As far as I know, only my mother and sister know about it. They're pretty much the only ones who actually use the internet, so that might be why.
Can you tell your friends about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing?
I could and I think I have in the past sort of indirectly wishing they might read it, but I won't go out of my way to make sure they know. Blogs are not private, period... unless you lock them. The only reason why I post my thoughts on the internet is the wish that someone might read them. I have the link to this blog attached to many of my other websites such as facebook. I consider it a sort of fishing, hoping someone might bite.
Do you read the blogs of those who comment on your blog? Or do you try and discover new blogs?
If I got any comments, yes I probably would. I occasionally use the random blog function at the top of the page out of pure boredom, but I rarely come across anything I'm interested in reading. More often than not, I find most of the blogs I follow through google searches I conduct throughout the day on various topics.
Does your blog positively affect your mind?
Again, I wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't helping me in some way. If you've ever seen or read the Harry Potter series, a blog is sort of like the pensieve. It's a way to log memories and thoughts to both get them out of your head and to refer back to them at a later time. If you're lucky, you'll even get some insight from the blogger community.
What does the number of visitors to your blog mean? Do you have a traffic counter?
It counts the number of people who view your blog by tracking their IP address. Am I right, and I right?? Hehe, I believe blogspot has its own built in traffic counter, but I don't look at it very often.
Do you imagine what other bloggers look like?
If they don't already of a picture of themselves on the blog itself, then no. All I really care about is the text.
Do you think blogging has any real benefits?
It's acts as both a sort of journal and a form of communication, so of course it has benefits. Whether its just personal or political, blogging has become a very large form of media.
Do you think that the blogosphere is a stand alone world community separated from the real world?
Not at all. This isn't the Matrix (well it is a matrix of sorts), this is the real world. I suppose there are some specialized communities of bloggers that tend to stray from the real world, but I would imagine that most of the people who participate in blogging to actually connect further with the world.
Do some political blogs scare you? Do you avoid them?
I'm not particularly attracted to many political blogs, but I do follow some.
Do you think that criticizing your blog is useful?
Yesir! I welcome criticism. I do a lot of it myself. I do hope that is constructive criticism though, and not just an insult or sarcastic comment.
Have you ever thought about what would happen to your blog if you died?
Nope. Thinking about it now, I would assume that it would float in cyberspace for a while until blogspot decided to take it down...whenever that might be. My mother or another family member might print everything I've written just to keep me alive in their hearts (you'll never catch me saying that again). Actually, I used to keep a livejournal. I haven't updated it or even logged in for more than a couple years and yet it still exists. I suppose its a way of living after death.
Which blogger has had the greatest impression on you?
I can't really single out one blogger.
Which blogger do you think is the most similar to you?
See above.
Name a song you want to listen too.
I suppose I have a problem picking favorites. I have my media player set on random at the moment. The last few songs consisted of Stereophonics, Radiohead, and Built to Spill.
What does your blog title mean? (I added this question)
It serves as both my blog title and screen name, so I get many inquiries about its meaning. I thought it was pretty straightforward. Muse means to think about, to ponder, to mull over....while a parade is a public display of culture or beliefs. So together, they make:
Do you like the look and contents of your blog?
Being as lazy and carefree as I am, I picked one of the premade templates. It's pretty simple and easy on the eyes, so I like it just fine. The only thing I changed is the background. Regarding content - If I didn't like it, I wouldn't keep writing. Although I do often post a blog one day, and come back and edit it if something doesn't look right.
Does your family know about your blog?
As far as I know, only my mother and sister know about it. They're pretty much the only ones who actually use the internet, so that might be why.
Can you tell your friends about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing?
I could and I think I have in the past sort of indirectly wishing they might read it, but I won't go out of my way to make sure they know. Blogs are not private, period... unless you lock them. The only reason why I post my thoughts on the internet is the wish that someone might read them. I have the link to this blog attached to many of my other websites such as facebook. I consider it a sort of fishing, hoping someone might bite.
Do you read the blogs of those who comment on your blog? Or do you try and discover new blogs?
If I got any comments, yes I probably would. I occasionally use the random blog function at the top of the page out of pure boredom, but I rarely come across anything I'm interested in reading. More often than not, I find most of the blogs I follow through google searches I conduct throughout the day on various topics.
Does your blog positively affect your mind?
Again, I wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't helping me in some way. If you've ever seen or read the Harry Potter series, a blog is sort of like the pensieve. It's a way to log memories and thoughts to both get them out of your head and to refer back to them at a later time. If you're lucky, you'll even get some insight from the blogger community.
What does the number of visitors to your blog mean? Do you have a traffic counter?
It counts the number of people who view your blog by tracking their IP address. Am I right, and I right?? Hehe, I believe blogspot has its own built in traffic counter, but I don't look at it very often.
Do you imagine what other bloggers look like?
If they don't already of a picture of themselves on the blog itself, then no. All I really care about is the text.
Do you think blogging has any real benefits?
It's acts as both a sort of journal and a form of communication, so of course it has benefits. Whether its just personal or political, blogging has become a very large form of media.
Do you think that the blogosphere is a stand alone world community separated from the real world?
Not at all. This isn't the Matrix (well it is a matrix of sorts), this is the real world. I suppose there are some specialized communities of bloggers that tend to stray from the real world, but I would imagine that most of the people who participate in blogging to actually connect further with the world.
Do some political blogs scare you? Do you avoid them?
I'm not particularly attracted to many political blogs, but I do follow some.
Do you think that criticizing your blog is useful?
Yesir! I welcome criticism. I do a lot of it myself. I do hope that is constructive criticism though, and not just an insult or sarcastic comment.
Have you ever thought about what would happen to your blog if you died?
Nope. Thinking about it now, I would assume that it would float in cyberspace for a while until blogspot decided to take it down...whenever that might be. My mother or another family member might print everything I've written just to keep me alive in their hearts (you'll never catch me saying that again). Actually, I used to keep a livejournal. I haven't updated it or even logged in for more than a couple years and yet it still exists. I suppose its a way of living after death.
Which blogger has had the greatest impression on you?
I can't really single out one blogger.
Which blogger do you think is the most similar to you?
See above.
Name a song you want to listen too.
I suppose I have a problem picking favorites. I have my media player set on random at the moment. The last few songs consisted of Stereophonics, Radiohead, and Built to Spill.
What does your blog title mean? (I added this question)
It serves as both my blog title and screen name, so I get many inquiries about its meaning. I thought it was pretty straightforward. Muse means to think about, to ponder, to mull over....while a parade is a public display of culture or beliefs. So together, they make:
A public display of thought.
11/18/2008
My Favorite Films
Before Sunrise and Before Sunset have got to be my two top favorite movies. Surprisingly, I identify more strongly with the latter despite it being the sequel. I first saw them about four years ago. Actually, after seeing Before Sunrise I didn't have any idea that there was a sequel. I remember seeing a movie (I think it was An American Werewolf in Paris) with Julie Delpy and later researching what other movies she was in. I've never been a huge fan of Ethan Hawk or even romance films, but I thought I'd give it shot. I was not disappointed. I think I watched it a few times in a row.
Shortly after seeing the first one, I discovered there was a sequel. It's really quite fascinating, the films were made nine years apart, which corresponds to the time the two characters in the film spend apart. The differences in their appearance also reflect that, which make it that much more believable.
Since then, I've seen quite a few chick flicks and not many have compared. I suppose I'm a bit of a fan of bittersweet endings, so that has something to do with it. Movies such as Lost in Translation and Once come close.
I watched them both again yesterday, one after the other and they are still just as good as when I first saw them. I repeated the last twenty minutes of the sequel several times because they were so precious. Every single strong feeling they had, repressed for nine years, comes spilling out in a single car ride.
*****Warning*****Spoilers*****
I wouldn't call them gripes, but there are a few issues that I wish to expand upon. During the car ride, there's a moment when Celine (Julie Delpy's character) starts shouting and asks the cab driver to pull over. All throughout the movie, after spending about an hour together, she didn't once raise her voice in frustration. What's stranger is that Ethan Hawk's character Jesse didn't actually do much talking leading up to the point where she became so distressed. She basically talked herself into the moment where she almost jumped out of the car and ran away. I suppose I find this odd because I'm not very familiar with mood swings such as these. I could definitely see where she was coming from, but I don't understand her sudden need to repel Jesse after just spending so much time with him in a calm environment. I suppose it all to do with peoples personality and how they deal with strong emotions.
After thinking about it a bit, it makes more sense, but what I didn't quite understand after first seeing it, is why she was so mad. It almost seemed as if she was expressing animosity towards Jesse, when in fact it was her own problem. Jesse was the one who was stood up. He was the one who flew all the way to Paris only to find out she wasn't going to be there. He's the one who should be mad, and yet he's the one being yelled at. All the time leading up to this point, she didn't seem to be all that upset for not meeting him after that six month period. Earlier in the film he even asks her, "oh, why weren't you there" and she responded nonchalantly with "Oh, well my grandmother.."(her grandmother died either that day or shortly thereafter). Of course later in the film she confessed that she had been concealing some things, like the fact that she remembered they had sex. So this might be part of the reason she threw a little tantrum, it was an explosion of pent up feelings.
I just realized that I've spent that last few paragraphs trying to figure out and explain a woman's emotions. And there you have it, the difference between men and women (generalized of course). She did actually care, so much so as to have spend the last nine years of her life regretting what could have happened. She went on and on about how she poured all of her romance into that one night they spent together. Than afterwords became numb and unable to connect again. To me, this was just a long winded way of saying that for those nine years, she hadn't felt for another person what she felt for Jesse that one day.
In a sense, we all have that one person who we compare everyone else to. It may not be your ideal mate, but it is a person in your life you have either dated or befriended who you've identified with on a deeper level than anyone else. It may be a collection of people, a handful, or even just a few. We use this as to gauge new people we encounter. If you're lucky, you'll find someone who goes off the scale. Hell, you're lucky even if someone comes close. This may or may not be true, but from what I know... and from personal experience, we spend an abundant amount of time thinking about this person. Even if you are in a relationship... you might even be somewhat happy with it, but if this person rates even a 9/10 on your mental scale, you can't help but fall victim to the constant flood of thoughts of what could have been, what could be, and if you're willing to repress these thoughts for the sake of your current relationship.
Shortly after seeing the first one, I discovered there was a sequel. It's really quite fascinating, the films were made nine years apart, which corresponds to the time the two characters in the film spend apart. The differences in their appearance also reflect that, which make it that much more believable.
Since then, I've seen quite a few chick flicks and not many have compared. I suppose I'm a bit of a fan of bittersweet endings, so that has something to do with it. Movies such as Lost in Translation and Once come close.
I watched them both again yesterday, one after the other and they are still just as good as when I first saw them. I repeated the last twenty minutes of the sequel several times because they were so precious. Every single strong feeling they had, repressed for nine years, comes spilling out in a single car ride.
*****Warning*****Spoilers*****
I wouldn't call them gripes, but there are a few issues that I wish to expand upon. During the car ride, there's a moment when Celine (Julie Delpy's character) starts shouting and asks the cab driver to pull over. All throughout the movie, after spending about an hour together, she didn't once raise her voice in frustration. What's stranger is that Ethan Hawk's character Jesse didn't actually do much talking leading up to the point where she became so distressed. She basically talked herself into the moment where she almost jumped out of the car and ran away. I suppose I find this odd because I'm not very familiar with mood swings such as these. I could definitely see where she was coming from, but I don't understand her sudden need to repel Jesse after just spending so much time with him in a calm environment. I suppose it all to do with peoples personality and how they deal with strong emotions.
After thinking about it a bit, it makes more sense, but what I didn't quite understand after first seeing it, is why she was so mad. It almost seemed as if she was expressing animosity towards Jesse, when in fact it was her own problem. Jesse was the one who was stood up. He was the one who flew all the way to Paris only to find out she wasn't going to be there. He's the one who should be mad, and yet he's the one being yelled at. All the time leading up to this point, she didn't seem to be all that upset for not meeting him after that six month period. Earlier in the film he even asks her, "oh, why weren't you there" and she responded nonchalantly with "Oh, well my grandmother.."(her grandmother died either that day or shortly thereafter). Of course later in the film she confessed that she had been concealing some things, like the fact that she remembered they had sex. So this might be part of the reason she threw a little tantrum, it was an explosion of pent up feelings.
I just realized that I've spent that last few paragraphs trying to figure out and explain a woman's emotions. And there you have it, the difference between men and women (generalized of course). She did actually care, so much so as to have spend the last nine years of her life regretting what could have happened. She went on and on about how she poured all of her romance into that one night they spent together. Than afterwords became numb and unable to connect again. To me, this was just a long winded way of saying that for those nine years, she hadn't felt for another person what she felt for Jesse that one day.
In a sense, we all have that one person who we compare everyone else to. It may not be your ideal mate, but it is a person in your life you have either dated or befriended who you've identified with on a deeper level than anyone else. It may be a collection of people, a handful, or even just a few. We use this as to gauge new people we encounter. If you're lucky, you'll find someone who goes off the scale. Hell, you're lucky even if someone comes close. This may or may not be true, but from what I know... and from personal experience, we spend an abundant amount of time thinking about this person. Even if you are in a relationship... you might even be somewhat happy with it, but if this person rates even a 9/10 on your mental scale, you can't help but fall victim to the constant flood of thoughts of what could have been, what could be, and if you're willing to repress these thoughts for the sake of your current relationship.
11/15/2008
Friendship: Part I
I've never really had a best friend. Sure, out of all of my current friends I can pick one out as my closest, but as far as a "best friend" goes, I've never had the pleasure. I'll define "best friend" as someone you talk to more or less on a daily basis, someone you know almost everything about including but not limited to their favorite color, current crushes, and ambitions. From what I know, most of these types of relationships are formed mainly in the years of adolescence. After high school, in addition to life moving very quickly, you are exposed to so many more people. You not only have less time to establish these sort of relationships, but also a plethora of people to choose from.
Most male relationships in my life up to this point have superficial at best. I can't really say female relationships have been much more fulfilling, but there definitely is a significant difference. I admit much of the reason for this has to do with my personality, but also lies in the contrast between the male and female psyche. I'll be honest, I've never been very social. I would even go so far as to call myself a loner, mainly because I'm very picky as to who I associate myself with. Not because I feel as if I am holier than thou, but because I can only stand being around a certain sort of person.
Among the people that I converse with, more of the personal conversations have either been with females, or gay men. Surprising to me is that I have straight male friends who I myself am more similar to, and yet have not gotten very close to. There seems to be some sort of mental block that prevents us from becoming emotionally close. It is for this reason (among others) that we strive so hard to find our female counterpart to share these unexpressed feelings with. This is just a theory of mine.
After watching shows like Sex and the City, if you don't already have someone in your life such as Samantha, Charlotte, or Miranda, you start wishing you did. You also get to wondering about what capacity these sort of friendships exist in real life. I would imagine that deeper, more meaningful relationships exist mainly among women friends, while males maintain a more laconic sort of friendship.
So why is there such a strong need to find such a friend? Personally, a like-minded peer I could confide in sounds extremely appealing for more than a few reasons. Being very introspective, I've become pretty self reliant. I don't often reach out for advice, but that extra objective opinion may make all the difference. From my perspective, finding a best friend is very similar to finding a romantic match, which can be extremely challenging. The main difference between a best friend and a romantic partner is the physical intimacy. Sharing similar feelings and exchanging thoughts and opinions provides comfort, for whatever reason, and that is the importance of maintaining that sort of connection. The problem is finding the person and allowing the relationship to mature.
In the meantime, I will continue to be my own best friend.
https://youtu.be/1qIV_4JVEN8
If only straight men could get this close ;D
Most male relationships in my life up to this point have superficial at best. I can't really say female relationships have been much more fulfilling, but there definitely is a significant difference. I admit much of the reason for this has to do with my personality, but also lies in the contrast between the male and female psyche. I'll be honest, I've never been very social. I would even go so far as to call myself a loner, mainly because I'm very picky as to who I associate myself with. Not because I feel as if I am holier than thou, but because I can only stand being around a certain sort of person.
Among the people that I converse with, more of the personal conversations have either been with females, or gay men. Surprising to me is that I have straight male friends who I myself am more similar to, and yet have not gotten very close to. There seems to be some sort of mental block that prevents us from becoming emotionally close. It is for this reason (among others) that we strive so hard to find our female counterpart to share these unexpressed feelings with. This is just a theory of mine.
After watching shows like Sex and the City, if you don't already have someone in your life such as Samantha, Charlotte, or Miranda, you start wishing you did. You also get to wondering about what capacity these sort of friendships exist in real life. I would imagine that deeper, more meaningful relationships exist mainly among women friends, while males maintain a more laconic sort of friendship.
So why is there such a strong need to find such a friend? Personally, a like-minded peer I could confide in sounds extremely appealing for more than a few reasons. Being very introspective, I've become pretty self reliant. I don't often reach out for advice, but that extra objective opinion may make all the difference. From my perspective, finding a best friend is very similar to finding a romantic match, which can be extremely challenging. The main difference between a best friend and a romantic partner is the physical intimacy. Sharing similar feelings and exchanging thoughts and opinions provides comfort, for whatever reason, and that is the importance of maintaining that sort of connection. The problem is finding the person and allowing the relationship to mature.
In the meantime, I will continue to be my own best friend.
https://youtu.be/1qIV_4JVEN8
If only straight men could get this close ;D
10/18/2008
Obama vs Mcain
So they're calling this one of the most important elections of our lifetime. With an ongoing "war" in the middle east and our financial "crisis", it would certainly seem like it will be one for the records. Contrary to the attitude I had about a year ago, I will indeed be voting for the next president of the United States. Although I am voting, I still have the same views as I had in a blog I wrote last November: " Don't forget to vote!"
I still know next to nothing about politics and although I have taken a macroeconomics course in college, my knowledge of the economy is extremely limited. Now what I argued in my other blog is that people shouldn't be allowed to vote if they are ignorant in such areas. This of course is not the case. And the scary thing is that there are millions of even more ignorant and biased people than myself who vote every chance they get.
So who do I vote for? I have watched all three presidential debates and honestly, I've learned next to nothing besides Obama being better in front of the camera. Ok, sure I hear them talking about their plans to fix the economy and tarnishing each others reputation but what good is all this to me if I haven't the faintest clue as to how to fix the economy. In the end, I'll have to go with whoever sounds more convincing, and I'm sure by now we all know who that is. I would be extremely surprised if Obama isn't elected president in November.
Besides being good in front of the camera, Obama has some other things going for him. People want change. They are convinced that Mcain's presidency will only be a continuation of Bush's, and that is not an option. Mcain has been trying lately to seperate himself from Bush, but I think it's too late. His record of voting with Bush 90% of the time is clear, and is one of the biggest reasons he will lose the election.
Having mostly democratic views myself, I will be voting for Obama. It may be a clear cut choice to many people, but it really isn't an easy decision from my perspective. I'm taking a risk either way, but I do feel a bit more confident in someone who I agree with on more subjects. See you on November 4th! Go out and vote!
I still know next to nothing about politics and although I have taken a macroeconomics course in college, my knowledge of the economy is extremely limited. Now what I argued in my other blog is that people shouldn't be allowed to vote if they are ignorant in such areas. This of course is not the case. And the scary thing is that there are millions of even more ignorant and biased people than myself who vote every chance they get.
So who do I vote for? I have watched all three presidential debates and honestly, I've learned next to nothing besides Obama being better in front of the camera. Ok, sure I hear them talking about their plans to fix the economy and tarnishing each others reputation but what good is all this to me if I haven't the faintest clue as to how to fix the economy. In the end, I'll have to go with whoever sounds more convincing, and I'm sure by now we all know who that is. I would be extremely surprised if Obama isn't elected president in November.
Besides being good in front of the camera, Obama has some other things going for him. People want change. They are convinced that Mcain's presidency will only be a continuation of Bush's, and that is not an option. Mcain has been trying lately to seperate himself from Bush, but I think it's too late. His record of voting with Bush 90% of the time is clear, and is one of the biggest reasons he will lose the election.
Having mostly democratic views myself, I will be voting for Obama. It may be a clear cut choice to many people, but it really isn't an easy decision from my perspective. I'm taking a risk either way, but I do feel a bit more confident in someone who I agree with on more subjects. See you on November 4th! Go out and vote!
8/29/2008
Olympics? No Thanks
So the Olympics have come and gone, and won't return for another four years. Frankly, I couldn't care less. I'm not here to bash the Olympics, not intentionally anyway. I just wanted to write, and since the Olympics flooded the news for weeks, it popped in my head as something relevant to write about.
I didn't even know the Olympics were going until I visited my mother one weekend to find it playing on tv. I didn't have a television at my place at the time, but soon thereafter I started noticing more and more of the news based sites I visit covering almost nothing but Olympic stories.
I personally don't care to pay any attention to the Olympics, obviously; the reasons being very similar to why I don't affiliate myself with any sports period. I admit they're entertaining to watch from time to time, and I'm sure that's the main reason most people watch them, but there are many things that deter my attention.
One of the biggest reasons is: I am not concerned with who is the best. After watching some of the Olympics this year and observing some of the winners and losers responses, I can't really understand their joy or disappointment. Some of the Olympians are quoted and noted for striving off the rush and satisfaction they get from defeating the competition and being on top. On the other hand, the ones who didn't happen to come out on top are left defeated and disappointed.
Now I can't speak for anyone else, but what I'm most interested in is personal growth. How far can I push myself? In a world where everyone is different, what's the point in comparing each other? I admit that competition pushes everyone to be better individually, but where does this satisfaction or disappointment come from if we are all built differently biologically and have different abilities when we are compared to others?
I'm not sure. This sort of perspective applies to more things than just sports, but I won't get into that now.
I didn't even know the Olympics were going until I visited my mother one weekend to find it playing on tv. I didn't have a television at my place at the time, but soon thereafter I started noticing more and more of the news based sites I visit covering almost nothing but Olympic stories.
I personally don't care to pay any attention to the Olympics, obviously; the reasons being very similar to why I don't affiliate myself with any sports period. I admit they're entertaining to watch from time to time, and I'm sure that's the main reason most people watch them, but there are many things that deter my attention.
One of the biggest reasons is: I am not concerned with who is the best. After watching some of the Olympics this year and observing some of the winners and losers responses, I can't really understand their joy or disappointment. Some of the Olympians are quoted and noted for striving off the rush and satisfaction they get from defeating the competition and being on top. On the other hand, the ones who didn't happen to come out on top are left defeated and disappointed.
Now I can't speak for anyone else, but what I'm most interested in is personal growth. How far can I push myself? In a world where everyone is different, what's the point in comparing each other? I admit that competition pushes everyone to be better individually, but where does this satisfaction or disappointment come from if we are all built differently biologically and have different abilities when we are compared to others?
I'm not sure. This sort of perspective applies to more things than just sports, but I won't get into that now.
1/23/2008
Still Here
Three hours later and I am still here. It is now lunch time and this place is hoppin'! Every single chair is taken and instead of being able to zone in on anyone's personal conversation, I now can only overhear the people directly next to me. About five minutes ago I was being tortured by three beautiful teenage girls pontificating to each other. Now there are a couple of business partners discussing different ideas and strategies that'll help their firm. Meanwhile, before I started writing this blog, I was browsing random blogs via the Blogger random blog searcher button. This is what I like about getting out of the house, but at the same time, once a month is almost overkill, for me anyway. I don't know, maybe if I did it more often and changed the setting every now and then, I could learn to enjoy it a bit more.
Well now this is interesting. A middle aged man and woman now, the woman who just wrote a teenage inspirational book and the man talking about her tour and or workshop. Something was said about a $15,000 something or other and a side conversation led the man to describe that he has two children ages six and ten who receive home schooling.
The conversations are getting more interesting and my stomach is becoming more vacant, so I'm going to grab a soup and call it a day.
Well now this is interesting. A middle aged man and woman now, the woman who just wrote a teenage inspirational book and the man talking about her tour and or workshop. Something was said about a $15,000 something or other and a side conversation led the man to describe that he has two children ages six and ten who receive home schooling.
The conversations are getting more interesting and my stomach is becoming more vacant, so I'm going to grab a soup and call it a day.
My Birthday
So today is my birthday. I've decided to spend it by myself; thought maybe I'd drive around town, stop by some coffee shops and/or libraries, to think a bit. Exactly a year ago I believe I was asleep in my dorm room after a heavy night of drinking, dreaming, and dreading my early morning calculus class. Now I'm here at a Panera Bread, out of school, writing about whatever comes to mind. I was born twenty two years ago. Seems like a long time, but it's really not in the grand scheme of things, naturally. Some people graduate college at my age; me, I've barely completed two years. I'm honestly not worried about it though. Once I do complete whatever it is I end up completing, I'll probably be doing the same thing for the rest of my life, so what does it really matter if it takes me several more years.
I guess I've been at a lack of things to write about lately, mostly because it seems that I've been writing in circles, covering the same damn topic, only with different words, not really getting anywhere. Of course I probably would have expanded on whatever it was that I was trying to get across if I had gotten some responses. I wasn't expecting any though, of course, but it is the main reason why I'm posting blogs on the internet. Perhaps if I was talking about sex, I'd get more attention. It's not that I want or enjoy attention, I'm just curious to see if anyone feels the same way I do. Curiosity of course is often confused with the verb: to care.
So instead of running in circles, I think maybe I'll start posting movie reviews, since I watch at least five movies per week. And I'll start right now. I'll probably only write about the ones that I liked, although I might throw in a comment or two on how much I disliked a movie I had high hopes for. First up, a dual review!
Adrift in Manhattan ***.5
This is one of those films with several separate, yet intertwined stories, although not as many as Paris Je Teim, which all come together at the end in a dramatic easter basket with a bow on top. Although a bit unbelievable at times I really enjoyed this film. I am almost convinced that movies need an unbelievable aspect to them in order for them to be at least somewhat successful. I honestly don't feel like writing a summary of the film so I'll just point out what I liked about it. I suppose the main thing I liked about it was the silent communication and understanding that went on between the two main characters. A lot of the story followed a quiet young photographer taking photographs in a park who stumbles across a somewhat somber woman on a bench about fifty yards down from him. As he starts to take photos of her, he becomes somewhat obsessed, and eventually follows her home. And now I'm doing exactly what I said I didn't want to do: write a summary. Anyway, he takes pictures of her in her home from across the street and captures emotional moments with his camera and later sends them to her anonymously. Although frightening, these pictures point out to her exactly what she feels mostly strongly about, and eventually leads to her solution, hence the silent communication.
Ira & Abby ****
Yet another film set in Manhattan. I am glad I make it a habit to watch the entire movie, despite it having a horrible beginning. I know many people who will turn the movie off because it started off bad. The beginning of this move was so very cliche and unbelievable, "oh my god I can't believe I rented this movie" kept running through my head. As the story progressed though, I liked it more and more, and by the end up of it, I had a smirk on my face and continued to think about it throughout the ending credits. As I listened to the music that played whilst I mused, I was reminded of the Ratatouille soundtrack and the wonderful story that went along with it. I enjoyed this film for a number of reasons, but mostly because of the underlying themes: marriage is meaningless, and love (unconditional/true) is just an illusion. Cold hard theme's indeed, but true..in my opinion. Although these ideas are somewhat depressing for those who haven't accepted them, they were portrayed in a very very hilarious way. For example: every single character in the film saw a shrink and towards the end of the movie all of the characters and their shrinks came together in one room and had a maelstrom of a discussion, throwing around random insults and subtle bouts of philosophy in an attempt to explain their feelings. Although still early, this is my favorite movie so far in 2008.
It's funny how I viewed these films so closely together because they share many things in common. First off, the most obvious, they're both set in Manhattan. Second, and most impacting to me, each film had a character with the same viewpoint on life: you can be perfectly content living life with a mediocre job that pays the bills, without really having any major plans and/or life goals. Much like a monk, you can find happiness leading a simple life, and that is what I identify strongly with.
I guess I've been at a lack of things to write about lately, mostly because it seems that I've been writing in circles, covering the same damn topic, only with different words, not really getting anywhere. Of course I probably would have expanded on whatever it was that I was trying to get across if I had gotten some responses. I wasn't expecting any though, of course, but it is the main reason why I'm posting blogs on the internet. Perhaps if I was talking about sex, I'd get more attention. It's not that I want or enjoy attention, I'm just curious to see if anyone feels the same way I do. Curiosity of course is often confused with the verb: to care.
So instead of running in circles, I think maybe I'll start posting movie reviews, since I watch at least five movies per week. And I'll start right now. I'll probably only write about the ones that I liked, although I might throw in a comment or two on how much I disliked a movie I had high hopes for. First up, a dual review!
Adrift in Manhattan ***.5
This is one of those films with several separate, yet intertwined stories, although not as many as Paris Je Teim, which all come together at the end in a dramatic easter basket with a bow on top. Although a bit unbelievable at times I really enjoyed this film. I am almost convinced that movies need an unbelievable aspect to them in order for them to be at least somewhat successful. I honestly don't feel like writing a summary of the film so I'll just point out what I liked about it. I suppose the main thing I liked about it was the silent communication and understanding that went on between the two main characters. A lot of the story followed a quiet young photographer taking photographs in a park who stumbles across a somewhat somber woman on a bench about fifty yards down from him. As he starts to take photos of her, he becomes somewhat obsessed, and eventually follows her home. And now I'm doing exactly what I said I didn't want to do: write a summary. Anyway, he takes pictures of her in her home from across the street and captures emotional moments with his camera and later sends them to her anonymously. Although frightening, these pictures point out to her exactly what she feels mostly strongly about, and eventually leads to her solution, hence the silent communication.
Ira & Abby ****
Yet another film set in Manhattan. I am glad I make it a habit to watch the entire movie, despite it having a horrible beginning. I know many people who will turn the movie off because it started off bad. The beginning of this move was so very cliche and unbelievable, "oh my god I can't believe I rented this movie" kept running through my head. As the story progressed though, I liked it more and more, and by the end up of it, I had a smirk on my face and continued to think about it throughout the ending credits. As I listened to the music that played whilst I mused, I was reminded of the Ratatouille soundtrack and the wonderful story that went along with it. I enjoyed this film for a number of reasons, but mostly because of the underlying themes: marriage is meaningless, and love (unconditional/true) is just an illusion. Cold hard theme's indeed, but true..in my opinion. Although these ideas are somewhat depressing for those who haven't accepted them, they were portrayed in a very very hilarious way. For example: every single character in the film saw a shrink and towards the end of the movie all of the characters and their shrinks came together in one room and had a maelstrom of a discussion, throwing around random insults and subtle bouts of philosophy in an attempt to explain their feelings. Although still early, this is my favorite movie so far in 2008.
It's funny how I viewed these films so closely together because they share many things in common. First off, the most obvious, they're both set in Manhattan. Second, and most impacting to me, each film had a character with the same viewpoint on life: you can be perfectly content living life with a mediocre job that pays the bills, without really having any major plans and/or life goals. Much like a monk, you can find happiness leading a simple life, and that is what I identify strongly with.
1/06/2008
Another Day
You'd think that someone would plan something special for their day off from work, but all I did was sleep. I did have some things in mind that I could have taken care of, but instead I did what I like doing best: curl up in my blankets, embrace my pillow, and sleep for a short eternity. For about eighteen hours straight, I slept. I'm not sure if that's normal or not, but that's what I've been doing with my days off. I've got nothing better to do, not really. I woke up today, somewhat refreshed, ate six slices of left over pizza, and then proceeded to watch three movies in a row; all three being a variety of romance. Now I'm sitting here wondering if maybe this cycle of prolonged dreams and romance films could potentially act as a permanent placebo to the void in my life.
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I was at a party a few days ago and I found myself playing the ever popular Guitar Hero with some friends. I was a bit drunk at the time so ...
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A few months ago I happen to catch a segment of a Dr. Phil show on game addictions. Being an avid gamer myself in the past, despite my conte...
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Trying out a different platform: https://museparade.wordpress.com/
