Month: November 2014

I had a thought last night about how I was just putting my inner thoughts and life out there. I’ve documented parts of my life and my deeper thoughts. Of course I leave some for myself and I chew them over in my own head. But a lot of them, I put here.

I share them with my friends and family in other places…and the internet.

At first I was really kinda freaked out about it, but that’s what people do now. The internet was created to shorten the distance between people and allow them to communicate and share. And people do it all the time, they’re across platforms, creating videos, having personas.

Maybe that’s just where our society is headed, to our internet presence. Where distances get bigger, and the only way to solve them is for us to be on the internet.

I don’t know if I like the idea, but it seems that is where it’s going.

I learned in class that we learn the most about ourselves and our own culture when we travel. When we are presented with the unfamiliar, the strange, the new, we learn about what we think are the familiar. When we get back from the trip, the first things we want to do, usually, is to feel at home, comfortable. How best to do that? With something to eat/drink that’s familiar. For me,  a cup of tea? The ways in which our culture and food are connected are integral. And I feel it ever more so now, today.

Thanksgiving. It has never meant a whole lot to me. It always meant driving, and family, and food. It was always pleasant, but it was never something that made my heart quicken. It was a day, marked with a feast, but never something terribly emotional. Until now, of course when I’m away.

You always yearn for what you don’t have.

I yearn for Thanksgiving dinners, turkeys, preparing food, family.

This is my first year on my own without anyone to prepare food. Last year in Vienna, they had a meal for us all since we were all in the same boat. But now, entirely alone.

And boy do I feel it.

So in an attempt to make it feel a bit like home, I shall be doing all the cooking myself.

I have been dealing with a lot of questions, such as “why not wrap the meat in bacon?” “does it really have to be a whole bird?”.

In an uphill battle, futile as it may be, today will feel as close to home as it can.

You can never truly imitate the real thing, and in trying to do so, maybe you miss the real thing. But I will try.

My nostalgia is kicking in, and I want to try to make it feel as close as possible.

I am about to embark on a three day marathon of cooking, preparing, and hosting. I have my first solo Thanksgiving tonight, a potluck with my fellow masters students, and another Saturday.

Wish me luck. I will need it.

Here’s to the Thanksgiving spirit

I was watching a Sex in the City episode the other day and this hit me.

First off, why? In high school most of my friends had seen this show and loved it and I wondered why. So I have been giving it a shot. All six seasons, some episodes I’m left with a huh? or why? and my head in my hands, but some other times it rings true.

Anyway, Carrie, the protagonist, has this one relationship with Mr. Big that is toxic. She knows he can’t give her what she wants, a future, but she goes back, even has an affair with him and hurts people. It’s something she can’t help doing. He’s toxic, but so alluring to her. She knows she shouldn’t, but always goes down the rabbit hole. And at first I wanted to shout and kick, I was so upset. I said why are you so stupid? he won’t change, you won’t get what you want.

And then that’s when I realized I was shouting at my past self.

You get these flashes of memory and deja vu. The memories rush by you and you wonder, how could I have been so stupid? But I realized that I was not so much upset with her, but with my old self.

And maybe that’s why this show is so popular.

But it’s that toxic relationship that you know is poisoning you, but you can’t quite shake. Your friends tell you, you know, but you go back. It almost seems like you just want the pain. Things seem good, but it never works. They make themselves available when they want it, it’s emotionally manipulative, and it’s so unhealthy.

And I’ve most definitely been there.

And it made me so happy to know that I’m not anymore.

So while I had my little, you were so stupid in the past, now I get my, but now you’re even better and happier. You got out, after a long time, you picked yourself up, and you got happy.

This is my pat on the back.

I learn to live with the mistakes I’ve made, knowing I’m wiser now. And, probably, won’t make the same ones again.

I was thinking recently about betrayal because of a novel I read. It’s a pretty long description, so I’ll jut state what you need to know.

There’s a bunch of kids, teens, in an experiment to save the post-apocalyptic world. Because of this, there are lots of variables and you can’t really trust what you experience.

One of the main actions in this novel is to make the main protagonist feel betrayed by the one he loves. It ends up just being something they had to do, although can we really trust what everyone says? It was to save his life, but he can’t ever get rid of it. They never remain the same, and it effectively ends their relationship.

And it made me so sad.

Because for the readers, it’s reminiscent of that first betrayal we all felt. It hits us in our guts and makes us remember. Feeling like things were okay and then that stab that makes us forever changed.

It makes us wary, it damages us, it changes us. The scars of it are there forever and it seems to always cut the deepest.

Because it teaches us the world is dangerous, and people, especially those we know intimately through friendship or love, have the potential to hurt us the most. It reminds us that letting someone in, invites the danger in too. There is always the possibility of hurt. It teaches us that maybe we shouldn’t trust the world, and certainly not people.

The world becomes less shiny. People become less interesting, you become more guarded.

Of course only speaking from experience.

But it teaches us to be wary, we don’t walk around with innocent trust because we’re taught not to. And I don’t think we ever go back.

We just move forward the next day and try to live the best we can.

It hurts and it will for a long time, but there’s nothing else to do. Revenge doesn’t solve it and it’s impossible to go back. You can’t remain, and so you must go.

It remains a scar. It’s a crack in the way we see the world. But it’s something we all live with.

As for violin, I think what I missed was feeling part of a musical experience.

I used to be part of an orchestra yes, but I was part of a sound experience. It was a way to transcend our bodies and blend into the music. To lose the boundaries between our ears and the hall. It’s a way to lose oneself.

That’s what I miss. I was never phenomenal at violin, so I don’t miss that, but I miss being a part of that large sound.

And so I shall just immerse myself in musical experiences. Relatively easy fix.

As for dance, I think I just miss that total abandon. It’s freeing to succumb to the beat, to not care. There are two aspects: choreography and then free dance.

I like both a lot. Choreography because it’s movement that someone else has designed that is beautiful. We all fit together in a seamless piece of art. It’s feeling that you’re part of a larger something, a something that is beautiful. It’s an active experience in art. With free dance, the beauty and freedom is just moving, letting your body move with you. Abandon sense, abandon insecurity, and just move. Don’t care if it’s repetitive, if it’s ‘dumb’ movements, if you can’t ‘pull it off’, it’s you. It’s dance. That’s what I miss, but that’s what I can just do in my apartment.

We used to have nightly dance parties for a couple songs and it was fun. It wasn’t going to a club, it was better. We controlled our music. And it wasn’t the long time commitment of going out, it was in our pyjamas, so it was even more fun.

Take a dance recess. And see how you feel.

Because of my recent concert experience, I have been thinking a lot about my former schoolhood hobbies: gymnastics, dance, and violin.

I quite gymnastics due to an injury and haven’t tried again. I still get some joint pains in my knees after exercising, so I definitely don’t miss that. But I do miss the physicality of it. Maybe I miss flying through the air. Maybe I miss the enthusiasm and lack of fear I used to have. Because I think that’s what really killed it for me. After my injury, the amount of fear I had was astronomical compared to what I had before. It wasn’t really a thrill, it was more a calculated choice. I didn’t get off on the risk before, but I didn’t really realize it was a risk. That first moment I felt the danger, I felt the risk. I’m not a thrill seeker, so continuing wasn’t in it for me.

But I do miss it, I miss flying without fear.

And that’s the real thing, even if I went back, it would never be the same. Maybe that’s why I haven’t tried, because it can never be the same. And I want the memories of flying in my mind, I don’t want memories of fear and risk to override them.

I like to think that by not returning, I leave them in a state of childhood innocence. Because it will never be like it was before. And knowing that, I can safely move on from my sighing and do pilates.

I have recently been doing something where every month I write down 30 goals of mine. They range from brushing my teeth everyday, to developing a more positive outlook on life.

Some I achieve, some I don’t. I’m pretty flexible with my goals, if I don’t every day or not even in the month, that’s fine.

It’s more about setting goals, having a goal in mind, that I can work towards. It’s about concretely defining them and working towards them. I hang the list where I store my clothes, so I see them at least once a day. They remind me where I am in life and where I want to be.

At the end of the month, I read the list and reflect. I pat myself on the back for the ones I fulfill, and then put the ones I don’t, either on the list for the next month, or forget it. It’s not about getting them checked off the list for me, it’s about having a sense of purpose, having a vision of the future.

I may not know what I want to be doing in life, what job I want, but I do have a good sense of the person I want to be and the people I want to have around me.

For now, that’s more than enough.

This list thing isn’t large, it doesn’t even make me a 100 percent better person, but I like to think that just by writing it, it already makes me better.

It’s a commitment to myself to be better, to not cheat myself, and to forever move forwards. It’s enough.

I have been to three different libraries here so far. The public library, the university library, and the subject library.

I’ve encountered some interesting things. I have had lots of previous experience with libraries in my life. I’ve loved them since I was young. I spent hours in them reading, I’ve spent hours in them checking out books, and spent hours in them writing my thesis.

I was really excited to see the libraries here. They definitely work differently.

First off, if there are metal detectors, they aren’t used for the primary use of preventing stealing. Well, maybe they are, I shall explain. You have to put your belongings into lockers, your bags and jackets if you want to stay in the library. They won’t let you enter or stay if you don’t. I found this strange because I don’t think it’s a very effective way to prevent stealing. They didn’t even have the two books I was looking for. When I asked where they were, they didn’t know. Additionally, the librarians aren’t even ever watchful, they don’t survey the scene, they just sit at their desk. This isn’t the same, I don’t think, for the public library (although you do need to put your belongings in the locker there).

Secondly, to check out books. One’s library has a number on the card which corresponds to the shelf your books will be on when you go to collect them. You enter into a room, without bags and jackets, and look for that shelf. Then you look on that shelf for your books and take them to the librarian who will check them out for you.

Those are the two things I’ve noticed that are different about the libraries here.

I thought to help me get a sense of what to do to make me happy, to list some things.

Maybe I’m really just a simple person. The people around me and books really make me happy.

I love to sit down with books, I love to spend time with the people I love. I like to make yummy tasting and looking food. I like to be surrounded by intelligent conversation. I like walking outside. I like doing pilates.

In my mind, I can’t think of the ultimate, “where I’ll be in 5 years dream”. Because I’m happy where I am. Things aren’t perfect, but I’m making the best of them.

Perhaps I’m living a sort of dream in many ways.

But I guess I need to now think about what makes me happy on a larger level.

Activism makes me happy, but now that I’ve left University in the states, I don’t know how to do that here. I also don’t know what that will look like in the future. But that makes me feel good.

Experiencing new places and cultures makes me happy. I would love to travel more.