i just had a good chat with kristie about this issue of perspective. interesting things happen when one just talks aloud about any given conundrum. at first it seems as though you're spinning wheels and getting nowhere until some provincial god strikes you on the back of the head with the proverbial lightning bolt. there's a small spark inside and within planck time it has grown to some hideous burning pyre. it all falls together. not prettily. but together, damnit.
i should've mentioned the other conflict i have been confronting (or, to be a bit more precise about the matter, completely avoiding) and it seems silly now to have not done so. solitude. it's such a simple word but the concepts lodged in its hundreds of meanings can have disastrous effects on one's mental and physical well being. we should get one thing straight: it is in no way affecting my physical well being. let's be completely clear about at least that one thing. it has, however, been cropping up more and more in daily thought in the form of usually thinking a good evening to be one spent alone at home reading or, if i'm lucky, making something decent for dinner. senior in college: this, i've been told, is hardly the time to be moving that direction and rather it is the final blowout i should be preparing for. nuts to that.
so then. why this recent fixation on the problems with perspective? i've known for several months that my attraction towards solitude has been growing but i have been too dim witted to realize that, along with it, so has my issue with the former. the connection, in my mind, is now obvious: with my concern over perspective i have been becoming increasingly solitary. is this a natural process? have i found some deeper question that i'm truly interested in and simply want to have some more time alone to get a better grasp on it? is there some deeper relationship between these two no longer disparate concepts? or is this all complete rubbish?
hmm.
-e
pics n' things!
12.18.2007
12.14.2007
a few words concerning the season (etc.)
so. a great deal of pause has been given to this journal. i guess one could say it was school, work or good ol fashioned procrastination. i say it was an odd combination of the three and perhaps more. here's what i think (and i assume you're either bored or perhaps vaguely interested in what i have to say): i finished reading zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance a few weeks ago. this a book i hear one needs to read in order to become a pretentious college asshole (along with ayn rand's atlas shrugged which, incidentally, is not a good book. if you're interested in her, spend your time elsewhere - i suggest the fountainhead.). but, i digress. after finishing the book i thought of those people who find it to be for pretentious assholes and promptly thought of them as pretentious assholes (most likely they frequent pitchfork, think that music is dead and shop exclusively at american apparel*.) i found myself wondering when some pivotal moment in my life would happen. now i'm well aware that those things don't just happen and i'm also well aware of all the tired lines having something to do with me making things happen. yes, i know. thank you.
but. after the construction and prompt collapse of relationships, the construction and fear of imminent collapse of another and a general paranoia surrounding an increasingly awkward social life, i have settled on one importation question: the question of perspective. phaedrus had his inquiry into the meaning of the purest form of quality: what is it? where did it come from? what does quality mean when you take it out of context (that is, what is quality when you're not relating it to material objects such as, for example, a well made car)? i am in no way comparing myself to the pained protagonist of pirsig's story but i am longing for some chautauqua of my own.
this matter of perspective, to be totally honest, isn't revolving around a question but a concept. it's not as intensely deep as i may have made it sound but it is seeming to fit this part of my life. there is some root to the meaning of perspective (and it doesn't involve any vortex machine, for those of you in the know) but i have yet to stumble across it. what guidelines, exactly, keep us from backing away and looking at things from a different angle, through a different filter? how is it that our respective lenses get so scratched with a specific set of experiences thus leading to what later becomes a rather unpleasantly jaded individual? i fear it affects everybody. in fact, i know it does. if you've ever met anybody with an opinion you've met a person that has experienced some strange side effect of perspective. it's a strange and almost rudely elementary conclusion for me to arrive at, "distastefully simple" a friend told me. well fine, to hell with you too. yet at moments i feel like i'm grasping at straws and at other moments i'm determined to get deeper. the problem always comes at the same point, the point i'm at right now. i don't know how to get deeper. i don't know where to go from here. up? down? i'm not on a magical elevator and haven't yet figured out what the fuck "thinking laterally" entails. i haven't been able to sidle up to the problem and pounce on it.
so then. no answers to the question of perspective. however, and this may or may not help you understand just what in the hell i'm prattling on about, i felt its brutal effects: the most obvious being its negative impact on my social life. i feel that i have over-developed my internal resources that allow me to see things from other people's points of view. oh, you're saying, what a delusional asshole. no, i actually think this is detrimental for one very important reason: i have gained too much perspective on external issues (those outside of my own head) at a very critical time in my life, a time where i should be focusing on what's happening internally. it's a scary time when you realize that you may or may not be thinking for yourself. or worse, that other people have zero perspective and are stubborn to the point of suicidal when it comes to their own views. here we see the problem of perspective. its ghost and lingering residue in its most basic and rudimentary form. the stain it has left on my life until now has resulted in oddly shaped bridges that haven't fully repaired themselves, not unlike a bone break that has healed uncleanly. i find this leading to more and more reclusiveness and more and more thought.
but there's an upshot. there's something that as i wrap myself up in this tangle always brings me back down. moments like these.
with that said (and gone completely unfinished), i love the season even with its odd little bouts of loneliness that are specific only to the holidays. i'm reading (still) brian greene's fabric of the cosmos. i'm listening to beirut's gulag orkestar, jens lekmen's night falls over kortadala and stars' in our bedroom after the war. i'm mostly happy in my work and we've reached the end of the first quarter and a much anticipated break through the new year. i'm beginning the pre-planning for study abroad in germany for fall 2008. i'm bored a lot.
more pictures. for posterity, you know?
the view from our landing. the clouds are hanging too low to see the bay beyond the farthest visible brick buildings.
we have a christmas tree. go us.
-e
*if this is you, let me know: i have words for you. they're not happy words, either.
pics n' things!
but. after the construction and prompt collapse of relationships, the construction and fear of imminent collapse of another and a general paranoia surrounding an increasingly awkward social life, i have settled on one importation question: the question of perspective. phaedrus had his inquiry into the meaning of the purest form of quality: what is it? where did it come from? what does quality mean when you take it out of context (that is, what is quality when you're not relating it to material objects such as, for example, a well made car)? i am in no way comparing myself to the pained protagonist of pirsig's story but i am longing for some chautauqua of my own.
this matter of perspective, to be totally honest, isn't revolving around a question but a concept. it's not as intensely deep as i may have made it sound but it is seeming to fit this part of my life. there is some root to the meaning of perspective (and it doesn't involve any vortex machine, for those of you in the know) but i have yet to stumble across it. what guidelines, exactly, keep us from backing away and looking at things from a different angle, through a different filter? how is it that our respective lenses get so scratched with a specific set of experiences thus leading to what later becomes a rather unpleasantly jaded individual? i fear it affects everybody. in fact, i know it does. if you've ever met anybody with an opinion you've met a person that has experienced some strange side effect of perspective. it's a strange and almost rudely elementary conclusion for me to arrive at, "distastefully simple" a friend told me. well fine, to hell with you too. yet at moments i feel like i'm grasping at straws and at other moments i'm determined to get deeper. the problem always comes at the same point, the point i'm at right now. i don't know how to get deeper. i don't know where to go from here. up? down? i'm not on a magical elevator and haven't yet figured out what the fuck "thinking laterally" entails. i haven't been able to sidle up to the problem and pounce on it.
so then. no answers to the question of perspective. however, and this may or may not help you understand just what in the hell i'm prattling on about, i felt its brutal effects: the most obvious being its negative impact on my social life. i feel that i have over-developed my internal resources that allow me to see things from other people's points of view. oh, you're saying, what a delusional asshole. no, i actually think this is detrimental for one very important reason: i have gained too much perspective on external issues (those outside of my own head) at a very critical time in my life, a time where i should be focusing on what's happening internally. it's a scary time when you realize that you may or may not be thinking for yourself. or worse, that other people have zero perspective and are stubborn to the point of suicidal when it comes to their own views. here we see the problem of perspective. its ghost and lingering residue in its most basic and rudimentary form. the stain it has left on my life until now has resulted in oddly shaped bridges that haven't fully repaired themselves, not unlike a bone break that has healed uncleanly. i find this leading to more and more reclusiveness and more and more thought.
but there's an upshot. there's something that as i wrap myself up in this tangle always brings me back down. moments like these.
with that said (and gone completely unfinished), i love the season even with its odd little bouts of loneliness that are specific only to the holidays. i'm reading (still) brian greene's fabric of the cosmos. i'm listening to beirut's gulag orkestar, jens lekmen's night falls over kortadala and stars' in our bedroom after the war. i'm mostly happy in my work and we've reached the end of the first quarter and a much anticipated break through the new year. i'm beginning the pre-planning for study abroad in germany for fall 2008. i'm bored a lot.
more pictures. for posterity, you know?
the view from our landing. the clouds are hanging too low to see the bay beyond the farthest visible brick buildings.
we have a christmas tree. go us.
-e
*if this is you, let me know: i have words for you. they're not happy words, either.
pics n' things!
11.19.2007
9.30.2007
9.06.2007
etc.
without referencing earlier posts too much, it has become all too clear that times change. this idea seems well articulated by so many of those people at a particular crux in their life; some pivotal event irrevocably changing the course of their path. it may take some finding, some investigation, but usually you'll come across some reason for the changing times. bob dylan told us that it was more of a feeling than a definitive statement. i myself have found several different meanings in the drifting and crossing of paths, the old diverging from the new; it becomes hard to discern what is having a tangible effect on your life and what is merely some superficial event occurring to an otherwise stable existence.
how long has it really been, i ask myself. because at times it seems like i started last summer and others it feels as though i've never been anywhere else. since i started working at discover bicycles i have have had four birthdays. i have gone through three years in college. i have gotten sick from drinking twice. i have had one summer job. karen o perhaps might have said it best: in time, time is gone/never lasts/stops who he was/well i was wrong/never lasts. it appears that the owners of discover bicycles, two personal friends of mine, have decided to pursue other interests in life. there is one obvious conclusion to this. the shop, it would seem, is for sale. i have tried to write, rewrite and rerewrite what this all means, how the conclusions were reached, where it leaves me, and how this is one of those aforementioned pivotal moments. nothing i type seems to cut through the fog, nothing doing justice to four years of memories and steady employment. the one thing i will say is that shane, during the work day, pulled me aside to tell me what he and julie had decided to do. i was in the middle of helping some customers and had to return to them attempting to focus on the bike sale. i struggle for a few hapless moments, gave in and excused myself. looking directly at the floor i walked to the bathroom in the back of the shop. i don't think the tears were coming because i'd just been fired. because i hadn't. the tears weren't coming because i didn't know what i'd do for work next summer, or even for the school year. they might have been coming because i got defensive and didn't want the shop to fall in the wrong hands - someone who didn't know its importance to some of the people who'd becoming rather attached to it. they might have been coming because i thought that was the most appropriate response. but they were definitely coming because of the time i'd spent there.
there is no perfect eulogy. there is nothing to say that i haven't already thought of. i cannot expound on feelings i've already settled on. i cannot, in other words, save the bike shop so i cannot let myself think about its future. it's silly. ghastly, even. to be this way. filled with the latest in gpp, genuine people personalities.
-e
pics n' things!
how long has it really been, i ask myself. because at times it seems like i started last summer and others it feels as though i've never been anywhere else. since i started working at discover bicycles i have have had four birthdays. i have gone through three years in college. i have gotten sick from drinking twice. i have had one summer job. karen o perhaps might have said it best: in time, time is gone/never lasts/stops who he was/well i was wrong/never lasts. it appears that the owners of discover bicycles, two personal friends of mine, have decided to pursue other interests in life. there is one obvious conclusion to this. the shop, it would seem, is for sale. i have tried to write, rewrite and rerewrite what this all means, how the conclusions were reached, where it leaves me, and how this is one of those aforementioned pivotal moments. nothing i type seems to cut through the fog, nothing doing justice to four years of memories and steady employment. the one thing i will say is that shane, during the work day, pulled me aside to tell me what he and julie had decided to do. i was in the middle of helping some customers and had to return to them attempting to focus on the bike sale. i struggle for a few hapless moments, gave in and excused myself. looking directly at the floor i walked to the bathroom in the back of the shop. i don't think the tears were coming because i'd just been fired. because i hadn't. the tears weren't coming because i didn't know what i'd do for work next summer, or even for the school year. they might have been coming because i got defensive and didn't want the shop to fall in the wrong hands - someone who didn't know its importance to some of the people who'd becoming rather attached to it. they might have been coming because i thought that was the most appropriate response. but they were definitely coming because of the time i'd spent there.
there is no perfect eulogy. there is nothing to say that i haven't already thought of. i cannot expound on feelings i've already settled on. i cannot, in other words, save the bike shop so i cannot let myself think about its future. it's silly. ghastly, even. to be this way. filled with the latest in gpp, genuine people personalities.
-e
pics n' things!
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