So a guy got on the subway today, looking for money like some people do sometimes. They're not supposed to do that on subways, but they do anyway. What else is new. The point here, though, is that this guy's opening line was, "I wasn't born blind." (Coincidentally, he appeared to be blind). What was funny that my first thought, when he said this, was, "None of us were."
And I didn't think that just because everyone on the train could see. It made me think about how we are all so impressionable when we're born, and what's often taken as innocence in kids might actually just be an all-knowing wisdom that we've since become blind to. When you're just born, you can see everything. You don't become metaphorically blind until you grow up and are taught what to see and what not to see.
It has a lot to do with art. I don't think there's one definition of good art and bad art. It varies from person to person, but therein lies the blindness. Some of us see beauty where others don't, and the only reason the value of art varies is because there really is no better or worse - we just think we know one from the other when there really is no difference.
Take the Dali exhibit that just left the MoMA, for example: I went through it with my mom and left amazed at what I learned, while my mom just said, "He was weird; there was only one painting that I liked." I thought about trying to explain to her how it doesn't matter what you like and don't like, but I realized that maybe she already understood that. She just didn't understand how other people could like what she didn't. I had a better time, I think, because I promised myself not to pass judgement - I learned a lot about Dali's career and the things he thought were important, which gave me a new (if only temporary) perspective on the world. This isn't to say that I'm better at looking at art than my mom, but it fascinated me to find how differently we saw the array of paintings and films. These two different experiences, for me, signal that Dali made some really great art.
This has already been an exhausting week, and it's only been two days. Also, I've spent a lot of time procrastinating today, which makes today seem even longer. I know that I'm fine, though, if I get a philosophical moment off of what someone said on the subway...
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Endless Conversations
The Alternate Routes
I need a new distraction
passing are the days
and I see now that I'm
fading like the sun on the window sill
some things never change
but I know I will
and I'm looking for a new direction
blame it on a place where I
keep my questions
had enough so long
can I ask you why
all I know is indecision
but in this life
I find
that there is time enough to take it
and in this life
I find
that there is time enough to waste it
on these endless conversations
and I just had to write it down and tell you
send it in a letter
tell you now
that I have
raided every page in your history
and I've thought about what life could be for me
and I'm looking for a new solution
there are some things that I do get used to
won't you say it if you can
if you care for me
tell me how it is
would you talk to me
in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to take it
and in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to waste it
on these endless conversations
in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to take it
and in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to waste it
on these endless conversations
I need a new distraction
passing are the days
and I see now that I'm
fading like the sun on the window sill
some things never change
but I know I will
and I'm looking for a new direction
blame it on a place where I
keep my questions
had enough so long
can I ask you why
all I know is indecision
but in this life
I find
that there is time enough to take it
and in this life
I find
that there is time enough to waste it
on these endless conversations
and I just had to write it down and tell you
send it in a letter
tell you now
that I have
raided every page in your history
and I've thought about what life could be for me
and I'm looking for a new solution
there are some things that I do get used to
won't you say it if you can
if you care for me
tell me how it is
would you talk to me
in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to take it
and in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to waste it
on these endless conversations
in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to take it
and in this life
I'll find
that there is time enough to waste it
on these endless conversations
Monday, September 15, 2008
Hey, Stranger
I think the significant lack of bloggage is testament to the fact that I seem to always have something to do nowadays, even if it means still reading the novel I was supposed to have finished a week ago that I'm just over halfway through. I'm starting to assimilate into the city - things aren't as surprising and new, but becoming familiar in a nice way. The heat of the cement is sometimes a little strong, but at the same time it feels good when you know winter's coming and the heat will be replaced by cold and wind.
I think sometimes about what would have happened to me if I stayed at HC. I think I would have been fine, but at the same time I wouldn't be happy with being fine. I'd probably never stop wondering if there was a bigger world out there, and the wonder would probably linger for all four years. I think sometimes that I gave up the relationships I made there for my own sense of adventure and introvertism. NYU is all about the self and independence. Meeting people was much easier when you were in a concentrated unit of 3000, but there was no surprise, nothing new. I know that this is better, I really do, and even though I feel a little floaty lately, it won't last if I remain as crazy busy as I have been.
I write about this because I ran into someone I knew from HC who graduated in May. I ran into him, of all places, in Starbucks (if there weren't 8000 in Manhattan), and he just happened to be THAT person from school that everyone meets as a freshman because he hits on all the freshman girls but is really just harmless. It was awkward and unexpected but eye-opening for me: he seemed to be pretty homesick for the HC community and unused to the unfamiliar nature of cities. And while for a fleeting second I felt the same nostalgia he felt, I realized that that was one of my biggest reasons for transferring - it wasn't reality to me. I feel now like I have more freedom to live my life, and along with that comes the difficulty of making your own way when not everyone is looking out for you. It's nice to see someone you know every time you open your door, but I just feel like it's more honest when most of the people you see on the street don't really care too much about what you're doing there.
So I guess I'm saying that it's reassuring to be ignored. Strangely enough, that doesn't even sound strange to me. Also, as a side note, I went home for one night this weekend and was there less than 24 hours. The best part was coming back, because there was no hesitation. It finally felt right.
I think sometimes about what would have happened to me if I stayed at HC. I think I would have been fine, but at the same time I wouldn't be happy with being fine. I'd probably never stop wondering if there was a bigger world out there, and the wonder would probably linger for all four years. I think sometimes that I gave up the relationships I made there for my own sense of adventure and introvertism. NYU is all about the self and independence. Meeting people was much easier when you were in a concentrated unit of 3000, but there was no surprise, nothing new. I know that this is better, I really do, and even though I feel a little floaty lately, it won't last if I remain as crazy busy as I have been.
I write about this because I ran into someone I knew from HC who graduated in May. I ran into him, of all places, in Starbucks (if there weren't 8000 in Manhattan), and he just happened to be THAT person from school that everyone meets as a freshman because he hits on all the freshman girls but is really just harmless. It was awkward and unexpected but eye-opening for me: he seemed to be pretty homesick for the HC community and unused to the unfamiliar nature of cities. And while for a fleeting second I felt the same nostalgia he felt, I realized that that was one of my biggest reasons for transferring - it wasn't reality to me. I feel now like I have more freedom to live my life, and along with that comes the difficulty of making your own way when not everyone is looking out for you. It's nice to see someone you know every time you open your door, but I just feel like it's more honest when most of the people you see on the street don't really care too much about what you're doing there.
So I guess I'm saying that it's reassuring to be ignored. Strangely enough, that doesn't even sound strange to me. Also, as a side note, I went home for one night this weekend and was there less than 24 hours. The best part was coming back, because there was no hesitation. It finally felt right.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Rain
I never before would have classified myself as a city person, and I think I still wouldn't. I don't need the skyscrapers and sidewalks and masses of unfamiliar crowds. I do, however, need the endless possibility for chance and exploration. I'm coming to realize that one of my favorite things to do here is just to walk. I'll walk wherever I want to go, wherever is unfamiliar and holds the promise of something new. I have yet to be disappointed - I actually find that I most dislike having to turn around, for whatever reason that suddenly seems inconsequential in comparison to my wandering adventures. My right hip has been sore almost constantly since I got here two weeks ago, surely from the walking that adds up in miles without my realizing it.
It's funny, but I associate this adventuring with hiking out in the wilderness. To me, this city is and will always be a wilderness, and even though the mountains are made of concrete and there are convenience stores every few blocks, it becomes quite an ordeal to give yourself up to the chance of getting completely lost or worse. My backpack has actually gotten more use as a survival tool on expeditions than it has been used for carrying books. I think the best part, for me, is that it's impossible to feel confined. It might take me at least a year to see each neighborhood of this city, and it would certainly take me a lifetime to become familiar with all of it.
Add to this the countless restaurants, the concerts that occur literally underground, the museums that house centuries of knowledge and art - having cash is undeniable a must. Ironically, I can't be so bothered as to pay a cover charge for a club when I can get fantastic mexican and Corona (not to mention some space to breathe, talk and laugh) for the same price. And then there's the stuff that happens for free, the moments that come up out of the blue and slip away just as fast. I happened to pass through Washington Square Park yesterday, only to find that a band was playing some really great jazz for anyone to hear. I left an hour and a half later. Likewise, on a walk home the other day, I passed a furious woman on a cell phone, holding a diamond engagement ring over the street gutter and telling the person on the phone, "I'm really going to drop it! I swear! Where am I, at Spring and Lafayette and... OK, I'm dropping it!" I kept looking back to see if she'd do it, and I'm glad in hindsight that I didn't see the conclusion to the story - I'm hoping she put it back on her finger and went home to resolve the issue face-to-face.
And now it's pouring, soaking the city through on a Saturday night. The rain just lingers so much longer when the drains are crowded and the sidewalks become waterfalls. Few things could slow this place down, but we've all needed a good rain for a long time. The cabbies are getting great business, but there really is much less temptation to go outside when you know you'll arrive at your destination looking like you just jumped into a lake. Other things go on as usual - the dance studio in the building across the street is busy, although I think this isn't a formal class because there's a dog on the dance floor. One floor above that is another studio of sorts - a movie's being filmed in a cramped loft, and the only reason I can tell is because they blocked every window except for one. The 24-hour window-service restaurant on the corner is lacking its usual crowd, mostly because a fresh hot dog would be soaked about ten seconds after its purchase.
The rain finally made me stay in, so I'm getting things done. Sort of. Well, not really, because it's now 7:30 and I think time for dinner and a movie. Even I have space now, though - the rain sent my roommate home, so that I'm comfortable again and not reminded of, well, her.
What do I like most? Not knowing what's next.
It's funny, but I associate this adventuring with hiking out in the wilderness. To me, this city is and will always be a wilderness, and even though the mountains are made of concrete and there are convenience stores every few blocks, it becomes quite an ordeal to give yourself up to the chance of getting completely lost or worse. My backpack has actually gotten more use as a survival tool on expeditions than it has been used for carrying books. I think the best part, for me, is that it's impossible to feel confined. It might take me at least a year to see each neighborhood of this city, and it would certainly take me a lifetime to become familiar with all of it.
Add to this the countless restaurants, the concerts that occur literally underground, the museums that house centuries of knowledge and art - having cash is undeniable a must. Ironically, I can't be so bothered as to pay a cover charge for a club when I can get fantastic mexican and Corona (not to mention some space to breathe, talk and laugh) for the same price. And then there's the stuff that happens for free, the moments that come up out of the blue and slip away just as fast. I happened to pass through Washington Square Park yesterday, only to find that a band was playing some really great jazz for anyone to hear. I left an hour and a half later. Likewise, on a walk home the other day, I passed a furious woman on a cell phone, holding a diamond engagement ring over the street gutter and telling the person on the phone, "I'm really going to drop it! I swear! Where am I, at Spring and Lafayette and... OK, I'm dropping it!" I kept looking back to see if she'd do it, and I'm glad in hindsight that I didn't see the conclusion to the story - I'm hoping she put it back on her finger and went home to resolve the issue face-to-face.
And now it's pouring, soaking the city through on a Saturday night. The rain just lingers so much longer when the drains are crowded and the sidewalks become waterfalls. Few things could slow this place down, but we've all needed a good rain for a long time. The cabbies are getting great business, but there really is much less temptation to go outside when you know you'll arrive at your destination looking like you just jumped into a lake. Other things go on as usual - the dance studio in the building across the street is busy, although I think this isn't a formal class because there's a dog on the dance floor. One floor above that is another studio of sorts - a movie's being filmed in a cramped loft, and the only reason I can tell is because they blocked every window except for one. The 24-hour window-service restaurant on the corner is lacking its usual crowd, mostly because a fresh hot dog would be soaked about ten seconds after its purchase.
The rain finally made me stay in, so I'm getting things done. Sort of. Well, not really, because it's now 7:30 and I think time for dinner and a movie. Even I have space now, though - the rain sent my roommate home, so that I'm comfortable again and not reminded of, well, her.
What do I like most? Not knowing what's next.
Not Now, Not Again
I would love to write tonight, but I know that if I go any further I'm going to go off in a direction I don't want to have to go ever again. I would be lying to myself if I wrote of anything else, because this is what I'm feeling right now, and I especially can't lie to myself here, since this is meant for truth. Let's give it one sentence; I go out of my way to help someone else, even though they probably shouldn't need it, and all that happens is that they're ungrateful and end up taking away from my enjoyment. Now I know the reason why I had to intervene in the first place.
I promise I'll be more illustrious tomorrow. I've seen such great things in the past few days that I will recount much more clearly and dearly when I'm not so distracted. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.
I promise I'll be more illustrious tomorrow. I've seen such great things in the past few days that I will recount much more clearly and dearly when I'm not so distracted. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow.
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