| hmm |  |
so it turns out that the photo i submitted to the mission workshop photo contest was selected and it'll be incorporated into the wall in their newly opened storefront in brussels. i'm kinda surprised because i thought there were so many better photos.
| carryology, deux! | |
another day, same destination. ups ought to have their damn store somewhere on campus instead of in the middle of nowhere. but then again, i wouldn't have a fine excuse to ride my bike on such an awesome saturday morning.
before:
what's interesting is that the object in the box is exactly the same as the object carrying it. i had contacted mission workshop to send my bag in for repair after some non-structural stitching came undone on the bag (i abuse it pretty hard with all kinds of shit i carry), and they promptly sent a replacement and that's why i am sending the old one back. lifetime warranty for the win and thumbs up to mw.
nothing memorable happened except maybe for the one truck who tried to give me too much room and drifted into the oncoming lane. must have been an "oh f!uck" moment for the driver. sometimes people can be too nice. oh and max speed this time: 31.86 mph. i'm gaining.
| tuesday blues | |
that time of week again. tuesday nights. a recurring theme.
i'm a lonely painter who lives in a box of paints. yet i was born color blind, i see the world in black and white. it took me a while to figure out that perhaps painting in monochrome isn't so bad, but then again i can't tell even if i've stumbled across my favorite paints, because i'd never know their true colors. so i quietly move on and continue to stare at a blank canvas.
i tell myself that maybe one day the paint will come to me, then i'd be able to start painting. it's the only way i know to get by.
+listening to: sympathize by amos lee
| american idiot? | |
while searching for the answers to why i chose to have an education here, i've never been able to come up with a comprehensive reason. it has always been something like "i've always wanted to see what it's like in america".
it might have something to do with the images in popular culture that have been subconsciously stamped into my mind as a child growing up in an oppressive society. such are the effects of the well-oiled institution that is globalization, or more aptly americanization. i prefer to think of it as an institution rather than a process, because it's a well-orchestrated, concerted efforts by a group of individuals guided by fundamentally capitalist principles.
and then the thought suddenly occurred to me - maybe it's because i've always been attracted to the american culture. it has nothing to do with mcdonald's, disneyland or playboy. that's what most people think of when the term american culture presents itself. and then there're the skeptics - they prefer a non-existential view on the whole idea of an "american culture". i'd like to think that there once was an american culture, an anamorphic variety from old world european principles.
now where do we begin? we need some focus and perspective. let's start from the story of the jean, your beloved everyday, everywhere pair of pants. that rugged, simple pair of pants that levi strauss invented around the turn of the last century has become the defining piece of garment that people around the world have grown to love and embrace. in someway it has become the de facto uniform of the modern society; it transcends cultures and classes. yet, it hadn't always been that way. it started out as a solution to a perennial problem for miners looking for more hardy work pants. its humble birth was anything but stylish; the silver screen made the jean cool.
say what you may about the present day iteration of hollywood, but a lot of insights can be gleaned from those repetitive yet addictive flicks that they churn out on industrial scales. even with the dramatization and the romanticism associated with mainstream films, it's still a window for us to peer into the lives of people. american people.
westerns portrayed early settlers in the frontier towns of the west, faced with all sorts of obstacles and challenges that they would never have encountered otherwise. there was that sort of pioneering spirit that was so admirable, and it embodies the whole notion of liberty for all who seek it. it was on the great plains and the wild west that a distinct cultural identity was forged, and hollywood milked every cent of that noble heritage.
the harsh conditions and rugged landscape took its toll on the people and their possessions, and necessity dictated that clothes and objects be made more hardy to withstand the elements. like how the british weather gave birth to the famed barbour waxed cotton jackets, america's native sons gave us the jean (levi strauss), the flannel shirt (carhartt) and steel-toed boots (red wing). quality reined supreme as the hallmark of a great product and swayed people's purchasing decisions. it used to be that if something broke or wore out, you would send it back to the dealer and they would repair or rebuild it. in this day and age, we all live in a disposable culture and the determinants of consumption for the majority of people have shifted to the lowest price, the latest and the trendiest.
i must admit that i'm a sucker for all things authentically american made. i hope one day i could say the same thing about goods manufactured in my own country. but sometimes it does take a whole different approach, and a whole different cultural mindset to do things right.
it is very well true that there're certain times when the can-do, bigger, stronger, faster american attitude gets blown out of proportion and things run a muck as a result of a symptomatic degradation of cultural ideals, we have to admit that there's still a whole lot of positives to be taken out of those seemingly primitive and austere philosophies: build things that last.
i leave you here with a closing thought: the businessman in henry ford wanted every american to own a model-t, but the american in him also designed the model-t to last 20 years. that is the old america you don't see too often these days.
this exposition presents merely my own biased views.
recommended reading (for a taste of true blue americana):
the selvage yard http://theselvedgeyard.wordpress.com/
+listening to: nothing
| who are you and who you are | |
watching still bill, the documentary about bill withers (you know, the guy who wrote ain't no sunshine), i seemed to have learnt a few things and calmed my nerves a little. one thing he said stuck with me: you know how unhappy you would be if you thought who you are is not ok?
i guess i started out my life like that and i don't want to end it up like that. i just want to feel ok. i know what it feels like not to feel alright - guilt and regret, aches and pains. i'm learning to accept who i am, and i'm doing that slowly day by day. i'm glad that there are always people with me every step the way that make the whole process easier. i might not remember exactly what you said or what you did, but i always remember the way you made me feel.
+listening to: use me by bill withers
| talk | |
i realized from staying up all night yesterday how much i missed talking.
but it's rare that i meet people whom i can converse with. i just don't have a very good grasp on the art of conversation, and that's always been something that has eluded me. it might have something to do with my yearning for knowing that there are people out there who share with me similar views, ideologies and experiences. Then i won't feel so out of place anymore.
i used to talk with close friends over coffee for hours on end, and last night reminded me of how badly i'm missing that. i almost wanted to put a sign up somewhere that says "have coffee, will talk" but then again, i'm afraid there won't be anyone or anything to talk about.
all you people like me out there, please.. put your hand up.
+listening to: dock of the bay by sara bareilles
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