Friday, September 05, 2003


It has been along time since I wrote last. And it hasn't been out of laziness. Honest.

No, really.

It's because the thoughts in my mind race like an African marathon runner (aren't they always the fastest); frantic, desperate, ambitious. I think of a million things at once, trying to grasp onto a significant thought. Squinting my mind's eye to focus on a specific idea.

These mental wanderings are preoccupied with dreams of my elusive-yet-inevitable career, the concept of loneliness and companionship, and most of all, the trappings of a safe life, this jail sentence of normalcy.

God, if this isn't babble, then I don't know what is. But hear me out; I am always weary of being too egocentric, which the previous four paragraphs seem to contradict, or for that matter, most of this site's content BUT the lack of focus I refer to above is not mine alone. It is something most people around me can relate to, if not all people.

The word "practical" scares me. It's the herpes of the English language. It's the rainer on many parades, the killer of most, if not all, inspiration. Being practical sounds as dreadful as being dead. No one wants to be accused of being either. Would you date someone who was referred to as "practical?" Could you think of anything that's a bigger turnoff (besides having a snorting cackle, which I assure you, you never get used to)?

Being a dreamer or being practical; the most difficult thing is deciding which one to be. And the middle area is so hazy and foggy, you might as well call it Scotland. If one veers too far to the side of dreaming, then those around him or her constantly remind him to wake up, join the world and be something (unaware that being a dreamer is still actually being something). But if you err on the side of practicality, then life is all too regular and stoic. Nothing is expected or for that matter, unexpected. Close your eyes and get up. That's your day in a brief summary.

What makes me...or us...nervous is transferring this aforementioned dreaming, this desire to fulfill something bigger than the concept of us, into a reality. Where does one find the inspiration? Sure, you could look to a Nike ad and "just do it." But a slogan only goes so far. Probably only as far as to the next commercial.
And if you sat down with anyone in the world, I’m certain that they would all love to be in a place other than the one they are currently in. Not to say that everyone is unhappy (which to a certain degree, I think is true) and that everyone's change would be an earth-shattering alteration but nevertheless, something would give.

Is this dangerous, though? Maintaining this distant goal in the back of your mind? Holding onto to this dream so much so that reality loses its grip in an arm wrestle with fantasy? I don't know. I am struggling with this daily. Every day, I wonder; should I abandon what I want and head to a life of quote unquote fulfillment? And are we fair to ourselves if we do? Are we fair to ourselves if we don't?

The complexities of existing in a world that demands so much of us is so tiring that we forget or ignore what we demand of ourselves. God, I wish I had the guts to move to a deserted rural town where time is on your side and so is the county sheriff. Wouldn’t it be nice to move to a foreign country for a year to see what happens? Start anew? I have a friend who is moving to Germany for year and I heard someone mention that she was a bit nervous of the transformation? Why, I asked. Because she feels like she will miss out on things. What things? Things are ambiguous. And besides, from what I hear, they have things in Germany.

But I’m a big talker. After all, I want to start a magazine. I want to live in a Villa in France. I want to take a road trip for six months all across the United States. I want to introduce myself to this random waitress I spotted last night on 73rd St. I want to be more than a temp at In Style Magazine. But here I am, in a cube at In Style Magazine which looks nothings like a quant cottage in the south of France.

Where to begin? How do we push ourselves off the cliff, jump into the deep water, leap the hurdle, and all other analogies that involve physical activities that sound potentially dangerous?

Now you can see why I haven't written in a while. I'm not sure if anything I put in words would make much sense nowadays.


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