yellow brick road

+listening to: yellow brick road by angus and julia stone

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the deep end

sometimes not feeling your best can have unexpected consequences. my mind wanders and strange thoughts inhabit my head in times of distress.

so today, just as what has been happening for the past 4 days, i had this overwhelming desire to make a salad. so i did. i don't know why, but it had to be something, be it sandwiches, eggs sunny-side-up, salad.

right. salad.

+listening to: nothing

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the way i get by

it's been almost a week since i last felt any semblance of normality. "normal" has always been such an aloof concept to me.

when you don't hear from me i wasn't hiding - i was weeping; when you don't see me i wasn't sleeping - i was reading. thankfully there is still adele and amos when i needed some soothing vibrations to break up the monotony of the silence, and then there's isherwood when i longed to feel like i at least belong in a story somewhere. how could he have known what i was going to go through before i was even born? it's frightening to think that character and reality can converge in such a striking manner.

there's work left undone, messages sent and not replied, phone calls ignored. and in the most ironic of circumstances being brushed off from a conversation, one which i was never looking to have in the first place. it's all a huge mess.

at the same time it's comforting to think that there are still people who cared to read this bunch of depressing crap. my sincerest apologies. just know that everything is not going ok and that i am struggling with myself. i'll just have to live with it. that's the way i get by.

+listening to: someone like you by adele

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the progression

the onset of a sickness:

act I: self-denial
act II: finally admitting you have a problem
final act: depression

every waking moment feels like part of this play. i never leave the sanctuary of my room without my suit of armor and my layer of polish. and i adjust to what is expected of me and how i am to behave; merely a veteran actor making his umpteenth appearance.

i wish there was something i could do.

+listening to: becoming george by abel korzeniowski

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it

waking up begins with saying am and now. looking in the mirror, what it sees there isn't so much a face as the expression of a predicament.

just get through the goddamn day.

+listening to: nothing

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me

sometimes we forget who we are, and who we are not...

i am george. and i didn't get a choice damnit.

+listening to: keep it loose, keep it tight by amos lee

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into the wild

i think these thoughts are long overdue...

somehow on the journey back into town last night, the subject of the film into the wild came up again. kat had mentioned she was disturbed by it, after having both watched the film and read the book. while i can't comment on the actual book that the film was based upon, i can however offer some of my thoughts on the film iteration.

i guess what makes it depressing to some may ultimately come down to the ending of the film. i think intrinsically we're always hoping for a "happily ever after" fairytale to any story. to me, chris mccandless's death was what put the whole story into perspective. if he'd lived, no one would have heard of his story, like so many other good stories out there.

that is not to say that death is what gave meaning to this story. it just brought it to our attention. a speckle in this universe of infinitely many lives. to many out there, he's still a madman, a lunatic who'd lost his mind. but what he did, what he pursued is a reflection on everyone and everything that is occurring around us. we live to pursue an ideal, we live to pursue our individual notions of happiness.

what gives the story meaning is not what became from him, but what he stood for. the freedom and determination to pursue, the bravery he displayed to live the way he wanted to live exactly. there's no pretentiousness there, just honesty and earnestness.

i probably will never be as resolute or courageous to pursue what i want and to break free from my obligations and the expectations which had been burdened upon me. nothing makes me happier every time i revisit that film. it makes me feel so free, it makes me feel hopeful that one day i'd be able to pursue the life i want. it makes me less troubled by who i am. it's my ticket to an escape even for a brief moment, to live vicariously through his eyes, to go to places i've longed to go to but would probably never have a chance to visit. so i continue to remind myself once in a while: live a little.

i leave you with an excerpt from the novel family happiness by leo tolstoy:

i have lived through much, and now i think i have found what is necessary for happiness. a quiet secluded life in the countryside, with the possibility of being useful to people to whom it is easy to do good, and who are not accustomed to have it done to them; then work which one hopes maybe of some use; then the rest, nature, book, music, love for one's neighbor -  such is my idea of happiness.

i guess everyone seeks different things in life. we all have different definitions and ideals about how our lives should be lived. do what you may, do what makes you happy, do what lets your soul shine.

+listening to: show me little shame by ben harper

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spring

tuesday nights leave me in frustration and anger, and make me want to ride into the night and never return. it's in these moments of despair that the absolute desire to be free becomes so unmistakably palpable that it is almost suffocating.

waiting on an angel, one to carry me home. hope you come to see me soon because i don't want to go alone...


+listening to: waiting on an angel by ben harper

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