Walking to the Library

If you know me at all, you can probably guess I have a ton of memories and crazy adventures at the library.  The library is 50 min away by foot according to google maps. Now being an adult and able to drive, it would take 5 min to get there by car. But as a middle or high schooler, I couldn’t drive, so 50 min would have been the barrier I saw.  This is how I did the math.  In those days I would come home at 3pm and my parents would come home at 5pm.  If the walk is 50 min, I could walk there, spend 20 min finding a book, and come back in time.  I never actually did this, but it seemed plausible.  Today, I decided to take that adventure to go there and come back in a 2 hour span.

I took all the tools necessary: my expired library card, my driver’s license to prove I exist so I can renew my library card, my MVGS backpack that I know can hold all the books I want, and my cell phone because every story needs a deus ex machina.  Since the library opens at 10am, I left at 9:10 predicting I would make it in time.  It was a cool 70 degrees…if you ignore the 80% humidity.  Keeping my backpack on made me sweaty.  Not wanting to get sweaty so early in the journey because of an empty backpack, I took it off and held it in my hand, switching off as my arm got tired holding its emptiness.  On the way, I got bored with just walking, cursing the fact I didn’t leave my headphones in the backpack.  Luckily, Krystal was online to discuss sophisticated topics like James, makeup, and if North Korea is actually a Chinese conspiracy.  By distracting myself, I past my normal running zone into uncharted territory. 

You thought I wasn't serious didn't you?

I continued in the direction to the library, keeping parallel to the main road.  Zigzagging through the suburban jungle, I realize that sometimes you need to go deeper in order to escape…aka I hit a cul de sac and needed to find another road.  I went deeper until I hit a road called Lakeside.  Knowing I needed a road with an L, but not realizing it was named for the lake at its side, I took the road until I ended up at another fork.  I proceeded deeper until I ended up at another cul de sac.  I had 20 min until 10am, so I didn’t want to admit defeat.  I took the path any adventurer would take: I sat down behind a bush to hide and opened google maps on my phone.  I was going the right direction…if I wanted to climb through a swamp and swim a lake.  I found which way I needed to go and retraced my steps.

I proceeded to the road that led to the main road.  I repeatedly glanced at the swamp at my side, knowing that if I crossed it I would get to the library quickly.  I calculated the risk of getting wet in the swamp vs. taking this path to the main road.  As I contemplated, a girl with a pick bicycle whizzed past me. With her backpack and water bottle, I assumed she was also going to the same destination, so I tried to follow her.  Alas, wheels are the king of the road while feet are just peasants.  I quickened my stride until the road ended; there was only a few feet to the library.  I saw the girl rolling her bike up the grassy hill.  As a mature person, I internally laughed at how the situation changes, as grass is super effective against bikes while feet have dominion.  I finally got to the library at 9:56, so I chilled by the lake, happy about my accomplishment. 

Good thing I didn't actually swim this

Finally entering the cool library, I found all the books I wanted and went to check them out.  Showing them my card, they ask me my age.  Naïve as I was, I told them the truth, not realizing the implications.  The woman broke the news to me: I am an adult, and as such I need a totally new library card. I was sent to fill out an online form for a new card.  The form was simple enough, with the exception that it required a middle name, which I do not possess.  I tricked the computer with a space and printed out the form.  Afterwards I gave it to the lady and she took my old card and cut it in front of my eyes! I don’t remember things well, I sometimes don’t remember my home telephone number, but one number I have never forgotten was my library number.  It was the key to 2 hours of internet at the library as a child and it allowed me to check out books at handley without actually bringing my card.  In one fell swoop that number was destroyed in front of my eyes and I was handed a new one.  For all time, let 29925000705223 live on in our hearts. 

I finally got my books and left the library at 10:25.  I got back home at 11:00 exactly.  Overall the trip took 1 hour and 50 min, so as a kid I may have made it back home in time, though I’m probably more fit/have longer legs now.  Though just a minor event, I’ll add all the symbolism I want to it because I can! Fulfillment of childhood by going? Check. Rejection of adulthood by not driving? Check. Rejection of childhood by society symbolized by the cutting of the old card? Check.  I can spin it however I want.  This is why life is sometimes cooler than books I brought home

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The Pride of Tragedy

I was watching Honey and Clover today (great show btw) and it made me realize something.  So the main girl has an unrequited love for a boy.  A lot of what happens in the show is her crying and feeling sad about  how she is not good enough.  She purposefully goes into situations she knows she will be hurt in to “face the truth.” Another guy likes her but she refuses to associate with him.  Her reason is that her love for the other guy will be false then.  It is not that hard to tell that she has a more interior feeling: pride in her own tragedy. 

It is an interesting concept.  She calls her love her “bittersweet treasure.” She wants to stay wallowing in her sadness, even getting into situations where it is exacerbated, just to maintain it.  She says “God, I didn’t want to be saved; I just wanted to keep crying over him.”

It may seem strange but people do feel proud about those differences.  When I was thinking about I realized I do the same.  I always say that I sit at home all the time and don’t interact with people even though I do go to some friend’s houses.  When confronted with my inaccuracies it isn’t hard to refute it because it is strange for others to see me arguing that I am worse off than I actually am.  In the same sense it is weird that she would rather not be saved and instead wants wallow in her sadness.  

Now that I think about it I do it a lot. I could argue that I am just making a simplification that can accurately portray my situation, but then that is another excuse.  People, including me, like to own their tragedies like prizes, even if they don't always realize it.  

Sharing, Judging, and an Exercise in Selfishness

I read an article on sharing today (very sciencey so not really that related to this post), but it did get me thinking about my attitudes on sharing.  I consider myself a pretty open person in that if someone asks me something about my life, I’ll answer it honestly.  I am plain so there is not much to hide.  I understand people who don’t want to talk about themselves.  Maybe they think it is pointless or the other person will not understand; people live their own way.  I’m also not like a Japanese author who pours his soul into his book so it is exposed to all.  Really people who want to know learn about me , so I guess so far that is a good policy.

Why do I understand people who don’t follow that policy?  Because I don’t follow it in sharing things I like.  Ask me what my favorite book or song is and I’ll probably not give you an answer.  One because I don’t really think of art in those terms and two because I think there is no point in telling others.  I do like it when others give me book, song, and TV shows recommendations, but I think it is common knowledge that by giving others a recommendation, you are exposing yourself to judgment. 

I don’t think it is wrong to judge those things.  If someone recommends me a book I don’t like, I’ll judge them on it because they liked it.  Just means we have different tastes.  Judging isn’t bad; it is just a way to organize data in the brain.  Still people don’t like to be judged for their tastes so that could be a reason I hesitate on giving recommendations. 

I’ve mentioned deep personal stuff and recommendations, but even everyday life gets shared. With Facebook (and blogs ahem), people now share their ordinary thoughts and feelings to the world.  Last summer I wanted to take a lot of photos of things I’ve done and share it with people.  I think it was part I wanted to prove to people I didn’t really sit around all day and to keep up with others who throw out their daily life on Facebook too. 

I realize how pointless a lot of that is now.  Things like taking pictures and posting them has a sharing element to them, but I think it is better used to organize your memories.  I mean why else do we take pics but to look back on them later with nostalgia.  I use this blog to organize my thoughts for myself, hence why I may leave some thoughts unspoken because they feel obvious to me.  Yeah I share this blog with people but I would be just as content by writing all this in a word document and saving this on my computer.  Selfish or not? I don’t really know.  Depends on if these words are worth being read by anybody other than me.

Overall I think I'm slowing growing into a person who shares less about myself.  I don't think there is a right or wrong way to go; more that you have to adjust it as you live.    

Relaxing in the summer

Bored so I wrote a poem.  Pretty much a sonnet, but I inverted some of the iambic pentameter.

Remember

Stages of tales have a place in my mind

Life is made grand by the ruse that it plays

When your thoughts go back to the former days,

A softened light is cast on what you find.

Mind, how do you make these changes so? To

make me see and adore the wounding blade?

Or find the thoughts that hide in darkest shade

and turn them sane when dragged to open view?

But mind, why must you be romantic now?

I sing the names as thoughts fill up my sight.

You add emotions where there was just slight,

In things ignored, significance endow

You see my pains and wrap them as a gift

For change is better than letting them drift

Habits

Saying "um" a lot. Scratching your head when you are nervous. Little triggers in our life cause us to go back to our habits.  It is better than exploring unfamiliar territory.  

Aristotle said excellence is a habit, but emotions are habits too. 

Anger, loneliness, and distrust are all habits.  

Bad habits are horrible shortcuts that satisfy our minds in the moment, but hurt us in the long term.  

Once you realize your emotions are habits just like fidgeting with your pencil, then you can manage them better. 

Finding Happiness

So I just recently read 1Q84 by Murakami. Interesting book though not one of his best.  It is a 1000+ book based on his short story “On Meeting my 100% Woman One Fine April Morning. ” In that story a man passes his “100% woman.” He doesn’t understand why she is, just that she is.  He tells his friend about it and thinks about what he should have said to her. 

Was a long book haha

He wanted to tell her a story of two children who were 100% man and women for each other, but doubted life could be that easy, so as a test they went their separate ways to see if they would meet each other later.  Each get a freaky cold that makes them lose their memories, and when they pass each other on the street again they recognize each other as their 100% man and women but do not respond on that feeling and keep walking. 

After reading 1Q84, one line in the short story still bugs me.  When the two children doubt that life can be easy, the story says, “However, a tiny, really tiny, doubt drifted across their hearts; could it really be all right for a dream to come completely true this simply?” As a reader I felt that if they knew, then why do they have this doubt, but now it makes more sense.

I always question if a feeling I have is my own or something that all humans feel, but usually I don’t know.  Maybe doubting happiness is something all of us feel.  People always say life is hard but you can get great joy from it, but what if we reject that joy?  That self-doubt destroys any hope for happiness if you don’t believe you deserve it.

I’m not going to be up here saying “everybody deserves happiness” because I have not really given much thought into the philosophy of happiness.  If anybody has any good ideas about it please tell me.  Something I do understand is how easy it is to reject happiness and to fill that space with negative thoughts and doubts.  Their situation in the story was so clear cut, yet they still rejected happiness.  Hopefully there is something is us that can prevent that and find happiness.  

Here is a link to the short story if anybody wants to read it.  6 pages you can handle it. 

On Meeting my 100% Woman One Fine April Morning

Standing Still

First post of break. I expected I would have more motivation to write but then life gets in the way so no feeling to write.  Been keeping myself busy by reading, programming, doing internship work and learning Japanese.  I have to say, I’m pretty content with doing this for 3 months..and I hate that.

I hate that I can be content with sitting in my room and just doing things to amuse me.  I guess people will think I’m weird, one that I can amuse myself well enough to not really care about things and two that I dislike that.  To the first, if you know me, I am easily amused and whatever keeps my mind moving is enough to distract me.  To the second, well that may require more words.

I’ve always been pretty solitary and have survived like that, but I also lack a lot of drive to do things.  Maybe that is just a human thing of staying in our comfort zone.  I’m pretty passive, going along with cool things as they come along, but never able to instigate them myself.  The bad thing is my mind is ok with that, and I let life slip away from me.  I could walk into UVA in 3 months and not feel my whole summer was used unwisely, even when it was. 

Maybe it is just something of this generation that always needs to do things and feels relaxing is wasting time, but I guess I’m swept up in that to.  I need to say concretely “I did this during the summer.” That also may be a wrong way to think; I don’t even know what to think. Something just tells me what I’m doing right now is wrong, and that is it wrong that I can so easily accept it.