Letter To My Unknown Love
I don't know how I get through days sometimes. Today wasn't a day that was particularly bad, it was actually pretty good. But I don't how I can string days together. Despite what people say about my attitude, it's not all that positive, at least on a macrolevel. I wouldn't be surprised if I was killed before I hit 40. I'm not going to die then (I keep my health too well), but a murder wouldn't surprise me. See that's what I mean, even fostering thoughts as morbid as that is bad news.
I just keep going. Pressing on, as Calvin Coolidge used to say. But I swear, pressing on isnt enough. I'm half as satisfied as I want to be. Life is becoming so hard. It is for all of us, and I can handle my affairs pretty well, but I don't want to just do pretty well. I want to do well. I don't want to be satisfied. I want to be happy.
The top of my life to-do list says: "Family. Enough said."
I don't see myself getting any closer to it. I'm whirling around like a milkshake in a blender, and not getting any closer. I often feel, physically, my chest consumed with emotion and energy...but it is never released. I can barely stand it.
I can barely stand listening to music a lot. I scroll through my MP3 player like a fiend. I'm never satisfied with what I'm listening to. There are so many songs I like, love. But I just can't bring myself to feel like listening to them.
Dear Love,
I'm writing this to you in anticipation. I miss you already, and you havent even revealed your name yet. (Look above, I can only call you "love".) You are the equivalent of sunshine, but are shrouded in shadow. Where are you. I don't ask a question, I'm trying in vain to command an answer. Why are you only a thought when I look out the window of the city bus at night by myself sitting amongst the other lonely passengers? Where are you sleeping when I look the short distance across my plaid pillowcase, expecting to see a face but only seeing a pillow?
I don't know why you don't want to be here. I'm not even saying you should come all this way by yourself, I'll send you a bus-fare. I'll send you a plane ticket. I'll come. Just stay with me. Or stay with me...someday. I'm not trying to get you to give up all your hopes and dreams. I'm not trying to make you feel like shit, or be whipped. I just want to be the same as you. Teeter-totters don't work with one person. Come home, please. Even just come here, or I'll come there, and then we'll find home and go there.
You have to be out there reading this, somewhere. You have to be. I can't even consider the possibility that you aren't. I can't consider that life can sum-up like 1+0=1. It has to be 1+1=2. Dave Matthews even says "We'll climb on 2 by 2, to be sure these days continue...". He wouldn't lie. If you aren't somewhere, most of the important things I know would be untrue.
The truth is, I don't need you now, but I want you now. Someday though, I'll need you. I'll need you to at least be out there somewhere, so there's more reason to go on than just being successful. I'm trying to focus on being successful right now, so I don't have to worry about that when I finally find you, at which time I'll only want to worry about being happy.
So Love, once you get this, hold on to it. And use it to remind me if I forget how much I love you. Don't ever let me let you go. I'm an imperfect man. I make lots of mistakes. Lots of mistakes. And keep this so once I find you, I'll know it's you. Don't give on on me either. I don't run as fast as all men, if someone else gets to your doorstep, remember that I'm coming. Remember that I love you, and you're my Love.
With love and God's speed,
Your Love
Being Critical
Sometimes I cannot believe the kids that come to the University of Michigan. I'm sitting in the study annex by the large window looking into the fishbowl, and this girl is cracking me up. I hope shes a freshmen, I don't I could stand listening to people like this for 3.5 more years.
She is really nice, quite a sweet person in fact, but...complaining.
I just listened to her complain on the telephone to a friend about the massive work load, and staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning, mind you in great detail, and then continue about more commitments with some school age kids for a job.
It was just as bad as listening to a mundane conversation about the weather. Weather can be interesting at time, and so can complaints, if there is some original thought that comes from it.
It makes me wonder if I will become one of those, who instead of working hard and accomplishing goals will call my friends on the phone, complain, see another friend passing by, complain, then stare into the fishbowl, and finally not really accomplish anything for about 15 minutes.
That's one thing I don't like about this university, it seems as if people play up their schedules and workload as if someone is going to give them a ribbon for their nobility.
Thankfully, I've noticed this and have attempted to be more chill about my workload with other people...afterall, what does it accomplish. I think that we should all strive to help eachother through rougher days, provide comfort, and encourage ourselves and our friends that they can get through it. Afterall, no matter how many people you complain to, it's not going to make calculus any easier.
Thanksgiving Day Entry.
That's the view outside my window. It's snowy. Woo.
Let the holiday season begin. I'm content during this time, because of everyone else...their happiness, joy, sense of family and caring and all that jazz. But, this is probably my least favorite time of the year, with few exceptions anyways. I can't make myself happy during this time. I try, have tried, and will try, but I can't get out of a funk from Thanksgiving day until December 27th. It's a race until New Years Day, but even so, New Years celebrations are a toss-up to begin with. Leaving Neil to reflection isn't always a positive experience, like now.
Well, this day is pretty much pointless for me. I don't see family. I don't see friends. I don't eat turkey. I can't even leave the house because everyone else is doing the above. It's lame. It's a holiday of isolation, which is not something I like celebrating. I don't even enjoy watching NFL football anymore, once the wolverines are done, football because arbitrary until the end of the season/playoff time.
I've been thinking very deeply about what I have to be thankful for, and there is much to be thankful for. A heap even. But, I can't help but feel pessimistic about it. What I'm thankful for, or most of what I'm thankful for is my creation. So, it's hard to feel refreshed by it. I can kick-ass in day to day life, but outside enrichment is atypical. That's what I love. Think of it like ice cream, sprinkles are only applicable when there is a solid chunk of ice cream below them, but ice cream is...typical without sprinkles. One may think, "if you expect sprinkles all the time, you'll take them for granted". I don't take sprinkles for granted.
But I suppose there are things to be thankful for. I don't know though. I am inflated with cynicism, and the pile of things I am thankful for are outweighed by one sweeping factor.
I don't like this season, because it's the lonliest and most islanding season that I have every year.
I can stand it. The year progresses like a trigonometric curves, my mood is a sine wave, and this period of the year is the range from pi to 3pi/2. Most others are a cosine curve where the beggining of this time is where they pick themselves up, as to where I'm just begginging to rescind.
I've already noticed a change in my use of language. I'm more descriptive while being more precise, and clear.
So, what to do? Increasing expectation of others is not an option that is feasible or one that I wish to pursue, as this time of the year is cherished by those around me. I do not wish to detract.
I cannot turtle-shell, that would further isolation from those around me.
I must take the approach of indulging into myself and others. I must reflect, and reason, and feel, and embrace my individuality, and try to peer deeply for joy and improvement. I must simultaneously try to share myself with others, and engage myself in their experiences, and try to create new ones. I must take my efforts and polarize them with investing in myself, and mixing others.
Lonliness is hardly something I wish to conquer. That is better left on it's own I think.
So, what am I thankful for? Being able to write down, and have the option to think about what I am thankful for. I'm thankful for being alive, and there's not much more I can ask for.
Gotta love it.
This past tuesday was my favorite day of the year. It was Diwali. You wouldn't think it would be my prized gem out of 364 other days of mediocrity, but it is. I love it. It's the only day of the year where I can recollect no sad memories. I have always been happy on that day, as far back as I can remember. But, going back to the previous, you would think that I wouldnt like it, because of it's religious importance, and christmas-like fanfare. That is true, but the holiday doesn't hold any significance for me in that sense at all. It's all about people you love. My parents, my family, and now my dog...because yes, this was Apollo's first Diwali @ home! I must try to make it home for Diwali every year. I had a very reflective experience, even though it was but a few hours that I was in Rochester, but wonderful nonetheless. I realized a little bit where home was, and reconfirmed my previous notions. I'm positive as to where home is now, and I'm lucky, I have 4. I remembered a bit of the things that matter much more than life. I found a little bit of peace. And of course I relieved the same ol' traditions, but they had a newness and excitement, just like they do every year. It doesn't matter. I like Diwali just the same. My favorite part, is the special things I do with my parents. I get to put out the dia's (candles) with my mom, all over the house. And it's the only day of the year where all lights are encouraged to be on. It is a day that is unique from every celebration around the planet. It makes me happy that at least some things never change-or don't very often...I get choked up just thinking about it. Then there's my dad. It's the only time he ever consistently wears authentic cultural clothing. I worry about him sometimes. I feel as if he rejects his heritage, his family, his roots. It reminds me that he hasn't forgotten where he's come from when he simply wears those clothes. He inspires me to do the same. He inspires me to remember who I am. It was almost perfect. But as she says, "everythings perfect." Not a surprise, she's right. Everything is perfect, and perfect it will remain.-"...Caught in between ten and twenty and I'm just dreamin'...countin' the ways to where you are..."-
My Generation.
What will our generation be known as? Will be the rebels like those in the 1960’s, or will we be like the yuppies? How will we be defined in history books, or in the folklore of our youth?
I’ve made public comment before about how much potential I think our generation has. The ability to be so just, so smart, so beautiful. But I almost feel like we are moving to a generation of “I”, selfishness, and introspectiveness. It is necessary though, we must search our souls to rid our psyches of the last remnants of inequality. We as a generation have the opportunity to make a huge shake towards a further level of purity and innocence. But this “I” phenomenon worries me. It seems as if songs on the radio are in the “I”, that books are written in the first person, and that our thoughts and opinions are qualified by the “I”. I hear less people expressing opinions, and only stating what they think. This may seem like it is synonymous, but let me explain why it isn’t.
Stating what one thinks is saying, “I believe such and such, I make no claim about greater truths, and I use the fact that my opinion is mine, to shield myself from criticism or uncomfortable. When I say expressing an opinion, I mean that somebody takes more of a chance, and let’s their opinion stand on it’s own, and not qualify their opinion, by saying, “I think that…”. They might say…”it is true that…”. I think we need to man up.
I’ve thought many a time that our generation has an enormous confidence problem. We have the passion of 1000 tigers, but it’s wasting away, because we wait for someone to take the first step. You would not believe how many people look off after making eye contact with me. You would not believe how many people look at the floor when they speak. I suspect that many people do not listen to IPods at the bus station because they wish to experience music, but just so it gives them a reason not to risk talking to someone else. We go about our ways, and live in our own little worlds, and wait for someone to touch us. Was this so 50 years ago? 10 years ago?
I am certain that we as a generation desire to be connected. Look at me, I’m flipping posting this entry into a blog, I’m logged onto AIM as we speak right now. My internet is always on. My cell phone is always on, and on silent in my pocket. When I forget my cell phone, I have strange withdrawal symptoms. I feel as if I’m almost in a haze without it. I’m certain that we desire to be connected. However, I think this desire has shifted nuances since the age of the internet.
I don’t have a TV anymore. I couldn’t care less. Now when I watch tv at my home in Rochester, I feel empty. I feel useless. I hate watching TV now. I just did it for the connection. But now I’ve grown further into wanting to be connected. Now I want REAL connections to REAL people. I want people to IM me. I want people to write on the walls of my facebook. I want that cute girl upstairs to come down and visit me. I want to get that acknowledgement from a professor. Some may say this is a basic human response, but I feel as if it is different. Depression and suicide rates are higher. This didn’t happen before. There has to be a difference. I don’t think gen y-ers today are capable of handing it. Why not. God, I don’t know. We need more balsy-ness. I go up and visit the floor above me, almost everyday. Yet, barely anyone makes that leap to do the same. Furthermore, the people who come around and visit, do so in groups, or have a routine to fall back on. That reassurance keeps that coming back. Once again, some may claim that this is just how people make friends. But I’m still not convinced. I have a feeling in my gut that this behavior is different. I have intuition that something much more serious is present. I can’t prove, or even give evidence of a damn thing. But I will one day.
So that leads me back to what our generation will be defined as. I don’t know. I really want to know though. Perhaps I will have a revelation about the matter soon.
Good Night.