It's been quite some time since I last "published" an entry.
I wish I could feel satisfied saying that I've been busy. Sure I've encountered my own share of lifework-- but I still long to be that guy-- still not satisfied until I am that "guy"--
I'm working on it though, I've been "busy" watching movies. I try to understand endless amounts of things through film-- by things, I look at the decor, the clothing, the acting, the editing, and I listen to the music, the story, the greater connective thread that the story sheds on the audience, on my mind-- blended on my memories.
Not that I don't look to reality, It's just bluntly evident in movies. It's the stuff so obvious, that's worth uncovering.
Like a memory, much like a movie-- thought is set into visual motion. I'm more likely to understand myself better after watching something, rather then simply relying on a dream or on me closing my eyes trying to get a glimsp of past. So I watch them, I watch them to become a better me.
I watch them to watch myself. To help me remember that "guy"-- the one there all along.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
very void.
I finally made an attempt to clean my fish tank. I spent about an hour cleaning the lid and attachments. When it came time to clean the tank, I put my fish in a separate bowl, and I thought everything was fine.
My dad used to say "thought" was not a word– and I once got so mad, that I picked up a dictionary in an attempt to prove to him– and myself, that "thought" existed.
So I assumed all was well, until the fish started to panic. Turning upside-down, swimming frantically, trying to get a gulp of air. Fish breathe water, not air, but I guess I put too much of the fish solution stuff in the bowl of water. It was like I unknowingly dumped them into a bowl of poison.
I tried to get them back into their tank– but it was already too late. I reassembled the filter, scattering bits of pieces of carbon all over the place, plugged in the air bubble bar, and held them in a net– to help them float. I was left to watch as each one took a final pocket of life.
I originally got the fish after returning from Japan two years ago. My aunt and uncle had several fish tanks in their home. And late at night and in the morning, I would watch the fish. Of course my tank and mere three starter fish was nothing– but it made me happy. I guess it filled the void of missing Japan and having to return to America.
The December prior to my April Japan trip, my father had passed away at the age of 50. The summer before, we had made a trip to the Philippines, his birthplace. My first time outside of the country, my dad had wanted to also make a trip to Japan– because it would only cost 50-75 dollars to fly from where we were– but it did not happen.
I did it– I kept telling myself that I made it to Japan. I was able to go to a Rolling Stones concert, and thought about how my father would have enjoyed it. In fact, I kept thinking what my father would do. So I drank beer with my uncle– even though I did not drink at the time– cause my father would have.
I somehow planned the trip so that I was in Japan on my father’s birthday. I did not intend to do this, but I subconsciously did. And on that day, I was fortunate enough to go inside a giant Buddha (like going in The Statue of Liberty). I made a wish on a Japanese yen– and placed it inside of the Buddha’s head.
I don’t know what I wished for anymore, maybe making that wish allowed me to forget that I even needed what I wished for– either way, my life has been a journey of filling voids. And watching my fish die, forced me to realize the voids they concealed.
So do I buy new fish? Do I make a new wish? What am I really looking for– am I looking for another void? They were survivors. They were strong. They made it through a move to a new apartment. But I neglected them. Though cared enough to know to always feed them– even drunk, I still remembered. But I neglected them– maybe because they "filled the void"– and were doing such an efficient job that I forgot about Japan, about my father, about a void, about the fish themselves.
Life is a cycle of voids, neglect, and void fillers. We need to make time to "fill" them, in order to "neglect" the void itself, but by neglecting the void filler, I created a new void– the loss of my fish.
So in the end– I "thought" the fish would make me happy– and they did– Now I need something else. Thoughts are much the same as voids-- they both consume the mind, keep the brain busy, and exist in the form of errors, false conclusions, and pain. And now I need more "thought" to fill the "void" and "void" to create "thought".
My dad used to say "thought" was not a word– and I once got so mad, that I picked up a dictionary in an attempt to prove to him– and myself, that "thought" existed.
So I assumed all was well, until the fish started to panic. Turning upside-down, swimming frantically, trying to get a gulp of air. Fish breathe water, not air, but I guess I put too much of the fish solution stuff in the bowl of water. It was like I unknowingly dumped them into a bowl of poison.
I tried to get them back into their tank– but it was already too late. I reassembled the filter, scattering bits of pieces of carbon all over the place, plugged in the air bubble bar, and held them in a net– to help them float. I was left to watch as each one took a final pocket of life.
I originally got the fish after returning from Japan two years ago. My aunt and uncle had several fish tanks in their home. And late at night and in the morning, I would watch the fish. Of course my tank and mere three starter fish was nothing– but it made me happy. I guess it filled the void of missing Japan and having to return to America.
The December prior to my April Japan trip, my father had passed away at the age of 50. The summer before, we had made a trip to the Philippines, his birthplace. My first time outside of the country, my dad had wanted to also make a trip to Japan– because it would only cost 50-75 dollars to fly from where we were– but it did not happen.
I did it– I kept telling myself that I made it to Japan. I was able to go to a Rolling Stones concert, and thought about how my father would have enjoyed it. In fact, I kept thinking what my father would do. So I drank beer with my uncle– even though I did not drink at the time– cause my father would have.
I somehow planned the trip so that I was in Japan on my father’s birthday. I did not intend to do this, but I subconsciously did. And on that day, I was fortunate enough to go inside a giant Buddha (like going in The Statue of Liberty). I made a wish on a Japanese yen– and placed it inside of the Buddha’s head.
I don’t know what I wished for anymore, maybe making that wish allowed me to forget that I even needed what I wished for– either way, my life has been a journey of filling voids. And watching my fish die, forced me to realize the voids they concealed.
So do I buy new fish? Do I make a new wish? What am I really looking for– am I looking for another void? They were survivors. They were strong. They made it through a move to a new apartment. But I neglected them. Though cared enough to know to always feed them– even drunk, I still remembered. But I neglected them– maybe because they "filled the void"– and were doing such an efficient job that I forgot about Japan, about my father, about a void, about the fish themselves.
Life is a cycle of voids, neglect, and void fillers. We need to make time to "fill" them, in order to "neglect" the void itself, but by neglecting the void filler, I created a new void– the loss of my fish.
So in the end– I "thought" the fish would make me happy– and they did– Now I need something else. Thoughts are much the same as voids-- they both consume the mind, keep the brain busy, and exist in the form of errors, false conclusions, and pain. And now I need more "thought" to fill the "void" and "void" to create "thought".
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
wait forward.
why does there always have to be an obstacle. i don't have enough money to move. i need to move out. i somehow find enough money, only to realize i have new student loans to pay-- not including electric, gas, credit, food, transport-- And to finally start moving-- but having to keep track of who can help and from what time frame-- trying to avoid different "helpers" from seeing each other, due to personal petty
prejudices.
so why can't i just move in-- have enough money to pay first/last + deposit, hire movers, save, save something-- but i think it is that easy. just not yet for myself. and that presents a challenge. i have to learn to beat new goals-- increasingly difficult, i will adopt and gain new knowledge and skills. Not solely to win, but to earn the highest level that i'm capably of achieving. "Able" to work, while life ticks away-- eating my potential. Time is limited, false, unforgiving--
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
too clever.
Sometimes it's bad to try to be too smart. I spend all my time thinking, creating, understanding, reflecting, blogging-- but little time accepting or resting--
It's no wonder why I am restless. There is no vacation from self. And knowing too much can lead-- to too much. But I can never stop learning-- I only hope not to isolate myself within a world of my own self, my own ideas-- or develop an inability to respect new ideas, new concepts--
I question myself. I question others. I question question.
In my journey of chutes and ladders-- I strive to climb intellectually-- and to not let stupidity be my downfall. But it's fucked up-- the decision of when to let loose, let go and when to hold back, hold on. Do I let myself relax or do I keep learning? Is there something to be gained from learning how to relax?
This must also be why I have a fear of my own potential. I can see success in my future-- but knowing what could go wrong-- holds me back. If I could let go, I could move forward-- but it's still hard not to question it all or at all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
