To Speak of Subjects Known
A blog of true experiences and perspective
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I remember, with a certain pained recognition, my 6th grade year. In this stream of memory however, I remember art class. I remember the simple clay formations, the odes and pictures about roman gods and goddesses, and I remember the horizon drawings. Horizon drawings were simple enough, a simple line down the middle of the paper, with each and every dimension focused on the perspective down the line. As I sit here now, nearly 10 years later, pondering some of the many other trivial things from my past my thoughts are thus: Is there any better metaphor for my life than that simple horizon drawing? It’s somewhat shocking to me, and I try to develop this idea out of sheer coincidence rather than a need to feel depth or for an unfilled need for attention. My recollection, however shoddy it may be, tells me I made two drawings, the first being a more natural setting, a simple path leading to the mountains in the distance, but the other resonated a bit more of this metaphor. It consisted of a road with a parallel railroad running into the distance with houses on one side. I just now see it solely as a commentary on life as it is. There are multiple ways of getting to where you end up in life, ergo the multiple ways to travel to this distant point on the horizon. This “point” on the horizon is what I like the most. I did not, in either of the pictures, decide to make any sort of destination. I don’t know whether this is because I see no definite future for me, or because it is just the way I work, trying to stay in my time and my current experiences. I focus on things close to me rather than those down the line. My picture also included people, some of which were closer to the road than others, and I figure this is somewhat obvious, but those closer to my pathways to my future represent those I’m closer to in life. Even those that poked their faces out of the windows of the houses littering the side of the street had meaning. As I pass the houses, which in this coincidental, metaphorical understanding represent the experiences I have and pass by, those people are those who made the experiences worthwhile or memorable. One of the things I’ve been focused on so much recently is finding people to be close to, to walk to that horizon point with. It is a harrowing feeling that I don’t know what that destination is, let alone not knowing that I have anyone to help me get there. Yet, I still know that whatever happens, I will reach a destination, passing more houses and more people every day. It’s both terrifying and comforting in a strange way to actually acknowledge the happenings of life, and although I can’t exactly accept them for them at this point, I can’t do much about it. As for now, I just need to change. I’m currently taking this picture as a lazy stroll, not actively seeking my destination or really enjoying the sights presently around me. So I’ll try to change, but that’s just another of the hundreds of potholes that cover the street. Good night.
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What drives us? What ever-present goal do we take as guidance through our travels in this idea of life? What is life? The resounding philosophical question to trounce all others has echoed through the ages and still dominates the fringes of my mind. I see life as others don’t, and as others do. In my inward reflecting I never fail to see it as a journey, a trip to take lightly as stress and worry should mean nothing. Yet, as I continue to take this journey, in the midst of the battle of the day-to-day, I mistakenly waiver in my quest for a simple, worthwhile life. I turn my eyes away from the splendor of the day and focus them solely on the task at hand, as something I have to get through in pursuit of my “real life.” When I look back on these thoughts I find myself thinking of them as nearly sacrilegious. I cannot bear to think that my idea of what life should be is being destroyed by myself of all people. I become enveloped in the morals of crowded, forceful, idyllic society and conform to the values that so consistently contrast mine. Ideas of enjoyment, self-worth, and natural inspiration give into ideas of social fright, sacrifice, and conformity. Why do I do this? Hopefully because I notice things. I consistently find myself believing that I am more observational than others, an opinion whose validity I will never know. I see the trends of the masses being concerned with futures and destinies and going along with the nature of humankind, I tend to follow. I see students simply spit balling information just in order to get the grade, all to forget the material a day later. This is something I’m guilty of in all honesty, but in the grand scheme of things, I hate it. I hate the overall sophistication of society, that it is always a competition, always a triumph or a failure over a single possible result. This in mind, I know that this is the way the world functions. It’s how I am programmed to function and how every system in the world functions. I just don’t enjoy the formality and the manipulation behind it. People need to lighten up. The end for now. My thoughts are turning away from my comments on how society works. I need to lighten up. I will now go to make some sort of stream of consciousness post…. To be continued.
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Quote reblogged from "I am. I am."You don’t write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say.F. Scott Fitzgerald (via rebellingwithoutcause)
(Source: sailingaugust)
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Quote reblogged from layers, cells, constellationsNobody will stop you from creating. Do it tonight. Do it tomorrow. That is the way to make your soul grow — whether there is a market for it or not! The kick of creation is the act of creating, not anything that happens afterward. I would tell all of you watching this screen: Before you go to bed, write a four line poem. Make it as good as you can. Don’t show it to anybody. Put it where nobody will find it. And you will discover that you have your reward.Kurt Vonnegut (via faerielandsforlorn)
(Source: twitter.com)
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-Bangkok, Thailand
Emerald Buddha TempleThailand’s Little Teapot
Travel should be a priority. You will truly never understand others until you are immersed in another culture. It will be, as it was for me, one of the most rewarding experiences you will ever have. I spent only two weeks in Thailand but during that time I took a three day trek through the jungles of northern Thailand where I spent nights in the same housing that the hill tribes use, saw the life of busy extremely busy Bangkok, experienced the party city of Pattaya, and saw the bridge over the river Kwai, which was an extremely eye-opening and humbling experience. Previously, I had always viewed travel simply as a luxury. I always believed that the best place would always be somewhere like Mexico or the Caribbean, fundamentally anywhere that would allow me to simply sit on the beach at a resort and relax. This idea was a grand misconception. There was one small but momentous experience specifically that led to this realization. On July 18th, 2011, I was sitting on a log in a clearing on the edge of Hmong tribe village in northern Thailand, and I heard a group of Kiwi’s near me discussing how surprised they were that there were a total of five Americans in the trek group. They cited the fact that Americans typically have priority to mainly visit either Latin America or Europe, and I felt pride in myself first of all that I was atypical from the norm, as well as a subtle sense of shame, that Americans are viewed as so close-minded, a fact that mostly seems true. Five minutes later, the Hmong put on a performance for us, a series of dances and songs put on by the tribe’s girls, the oldest of the group being about 10 years old. After the traditional songs of their people, they shocked me by bursting out in a rough sounding but very determined round of “I’m a little teapot.” They proceeded by pulling out about four English kid’s songs, and then asked us, the group of 5 Americans, 6 Kiwis, 2 Englishmen, and 4 Australians, to share a song with them. A very enthusiastic chorus of “The Hokey Pokey,” met their laughing faces as one of the Englishmen decided to (accidentally) deviate from the typical lyrics, leaving the rest of us a tad dumbfounded and entertained. It was very simple, but I will never forget that night, where my version of international relations boiled down to a simple exchange of children’s music. Two groups of people from complete opposite backgrounds, who don’t speak the same language, and have no similar customs, came together and bonded over “The Hokey Pokey.” This is why travel is so important. I challenge anyone who simply thinks it is for drinking on a beach all day to have that kind of experience. No resort in Maui or Cancun can offer that. So go somewhere you never thought you would. Find something different. You’ll be happy you did.
