bell - a verbalization of consciousness

Modes of Being, of Expression

In short, I’m in need of some new mode of expression. I recognize that the way we express ourselves is awfully variable. Often different parts of our personality, of our being, are excited and engaged by different people. True. No question. The same could be said by different contexts, and activities. I’ve been aware of this for some time.

In fact, this fall, I decided that I would make myself completely vulnerable and open to anyone who might ask me anything. Why not? What secrets am I really afraid of sharing, or whose judgments would I really fear hearing? (better to have someone judging me from the inside out, eh?) Granted, this isn’t always easy, but I sincerely have chosen to (and with much success) share any aspect of my person under question. In retrospect, I’d say this has been in an attempt to allow myself to be engaged on any level with any person, so as to further my own sense of being, and to discover additional modes of expression. But these days, I’m not feeling like the group conversations or the duologues are enough.

In short, I think the issue is language. I’m very language oriented, and have become moreso throughout the years. With language comes an undeniable appeal towards reason, and explanation. But within hyper-personal and uber-invasive (I use this term with positive connotation) interactions, I find that I’m often trying to speak of certain emotions I might be feeling, or beliefs that I might have. This gets tricky within language, to the point that I often stumble with ‘getting at the right words’ or am just generally dissatisfied with the things I end up saying. Sure, I could try to learn more words, but I don’t know if that will solve the problem (plus, if my listener doesn’t know the word I’m using, we’re back at our original enigma). Our language, in particular, is necessarily so limited. And I’m beginning to skate around the boundary of my rhetorical expanses.

I’m in need of some new mode of expression. I’ve exhaused my present state.

And there really is no denying this. I’m in need of some other release. I imagine that the answer to my restlessness lies within one of the many mediums of art: sculpture, painting, photography, drawing, design, music, poetry… I guess I just need to keep proceeding forward until one fits. My being is at stake here, people. Living admist cognitive swill, and expressive imprisonment is not an acceptable alternative for me.

I bought a “mandola” last week, so that should be coming in the mail shortly. I guess I’ll start there.

The way it is, Pt II

Lives are changing. The way we live is changing. The way we interact with Others is changing. Our ability to be people is different that those that have come before us. In a recent post I made mention of our perpetual struggle to include in our lives all the good people with whom we’ve “shared different intersections on the road network we call Life.”

Traditionally, friendships have been maintained by walking together down this so-called road. Living similarly. Having common experiences. The other day, a friend described this as the act of “sharing routines.” This makes sense. This is why, in friendship, in addition to common experience, there’s a quality of dependability, of accountability. With close friends, or partners you generally know where these people are or where they go. There’s a certain comfort in knowing these things about them — it’s almost a privilege (and a justification for knowing someone better than someone else!). However, we’re living in an era where the way we engage relations is changing.

The routines are becoming less frequent; or maybe I should say the routines aren’t become more frequent but rather the routine itself is based on interactions that happen infrequently. We establish relations with others that are built on saying ‘hello’ or dropping a visit or email or phone call every week, or every two weeks, or every month — or every blue moon. The spacing is different. This creates a disparity between people. Some (few?) know all the mundane activities of your day. Some (more?) know the major ups and downs of your week. And still others hear only of your largest and most influential experiences of the month or year.

In fact, a friend emailed me the other day and said, verbatim:
“How are you? I am all right. 2004 was a pretty good year for me. I was in New York for a bit, I ran a marathon, I met some really nice people, I fell in love, and I learned a lot. It wasn’t all great: I did poorly in school and fell out of love. Was it a good year for you?”

I rest my case. I value these friendships as much as any other, arguably more so since, because of time and distance, these relations hang on a more sensitive and impermanent balance. But these days I am beginning to wonder if the modern person is learning to live by these types of ‘infrequent’ relations. I say infrequent, but I might as well mention ‘random’. The more time in between encounters, the less reliable or predictable the next encounter will be. If I tend to talk to you every three weeks, there really is nothing to complain about if we speak next in 25 days. And after that, what really is the difference if you don’t call me back for 4 weeks? Plainly, nothing. Granted, certain people need more or less predictability, and they’ll often show you or tell you that, but on the whole, it seems that the frequency is less important than the pattern or ratio itself. There’s a common agreement. Unsaid, but understood.

So how does this affect our lives? Well, we have more freedom of movement. We are less tied down to one particular place, yet each place we choose to go is socially comfortable. You see, the road signs in our lives now lead to a bagillion places based on all the people we’ve met and have chosen to create a pattern of relations to (however infrequent) — and what’s more, we have newfound incentive to travel, to move, to relocate because of them. Why? Cuz, quite frankly, these other people that we’ve met are just like us, just as inviting to you as you are to them, but they live in other places. You’re welcome to spend a weekend in Boise with a friend you met at Ben Harper concert, or a summer in New York with that friend you met in Ghana — all made possible since you still keep in mild contact with him or her. Of course, upon arrival, you’ll use his/her routine until you get one of your own, and whether you stay close or become more independent is another issue all together. What matters is that freedom of movement.

This freedom adds a dimension of spontaneity to our lives that has never quite existed nearly as dramatically as it does now, in the 21st century. I beg to argue that we (some of us at least) are addicted to living in this spontaneity, ‘being in the flow’. It’s an unpredictable predictability. I don’t know what will happen next, but I can guarantee that something unexpected will happen. I will hear from some random acquaintance, or be invited to some random endeavor. To keep the cycle afloat, I imagine I need to be providing the same unpredictable excitement for Others — whether it’s inviting persons to come with you on some (weekend, month-long, summer-long?) adventure or whether its telling a friend that you’ll be in their area and would love to hook-up. It’s all part of the same spontaneity. The same motion of freedom.

So, the question becomes: What is preferable? A small, confined and isolated world of a handful of relations that you call ‘intimate’ (and I’d argue that most of these friends are by proximal default) or an expansive, unpredictable world of hundreds of relations and opportunities (based around friends that you’ve met and chose to maintain)? The question really isn’t that easy, and I did not intend to paint one scenario prettier than the other. I really have no answer, I just see the different ways that we can live. I could make arguments for this in regards to international relations and foreign policy… but, frankly, I’m done on this thought today….

Buber tells us of Love

Jesus or not, Buber provides a very helpful description for me about ‘Love’ (and the fact that i’m groovin’ out to Omar’s album, Best by Far, at the moment is definitely helping me feel why):

“Feelings accompany the metaphysical and metapsychical fact of love, but they do not constitute it; … Jesus’ feeling for the possessed man is different from his feelings for the beloved disciple; but the love is one. … Feelings dwell in man, but man dwells in his love. This is no metaphor but actuality: love does not cling to an I, as if the You were merely it’s ‘content’ or object; it is between I and You. Whoever does not know this, know this with his being, does not know love, even if he should ascribe to it the feelings that he lives through, experiences, enjoys and expresses. Love is a cosmic force.”

[p. 66: “I and Thou” - Martin Buber]

Additionally, for Buber, “All living is meeting” and though I’ve read very little of his works, I believe that I, personally, have a responsibility to make something more out of the dialogues I have with others - as should everyone. The question for me becomes: ‘how am I doing?” … and to be honest, I feel like I’m slipping, losing grip, sliding into some transcendental abyss……

I could keep clawing and scratching at my conceptions of the past, hoping to hold on to what has once been, or I can let go, and see where it takes me. It’s clear that Life changes, and you know what, I’m willing to take the ride; no reason not to, right?

2 Stanzas of 'Incoherence'

And with the breath of a thousand souls, I sigh…
My pattern of woes has changed it’s beat.
Cerebral swirlings run rampant inside;
No ground below to greet my feet.

Oh dear, my Narcissus has shown her grace!
A pinch of my skin, and a blink of my eye,
I’m kissing my reflection and her face.
This deja vood’ist has me vexed with, ‘Why?’

[…unfinished…]

Dirty Beatniks

First of all, this weekend has been incredible, on many levels. But we’ll begin with talk of the closing of Face the Music on 13th. This is a sad time, because I’ve really come to enjoy that joint. There’s cool cats inside that know music, and run a quality business that serves musical needs of the people. I’ve come across, by word of mouth and purchase, many new good tunes in their CD shop. But, alas, they’re going out of business… and having an incredible sale.

I picked up 17 new CDs… all of which are diamonds in the rough. Seriously. (This isn’t even mentioning the 7 sweet CD’s I recently received from Digate-International, nor the tunes from the Ryck-man, nor from Seattle-Spence, but… so it goes). As for my Friday endeavor: we’re talking some quality hip-hop albums, solo banjoists, blues, soul, African Tribal, smooth jazz, reggae… and more. I felt like I got it all, and for $30… and all I want to do is go back. But, let’s not get derailed, this is an entry dedicated to the passage found inside the CD jacket for a band named, Dirty Beatniks.

I can’t get enough of it. I just put on my headphones and my perception of the world changes. Things are positive. Apparently, they have another CD out called, Existentialism, which doesn’t surprise me. I look forward to our relationship. Vocalist Mau seems chill. Anyways, so, though long, here’s the inside passage, a prosaic diatribe of sorts — well worth your time:

“SOMETHING MORE THAN lust and desire drove us here. Something burnt away our feelings. Now all we seek is electricity, always, even if it ain’t our turn, even if we ain’t next in line, we’ll say. “No really, it’s okay, we’re fine,” and then we’ll be with some people that we don’t really wanna be with, laughing like idiots, til’ we’re all as empty as Jesus. And now the thunder makes no noise, and the lightning just adds to the light, and the rain washes nothing away, we’re going nowhere, everyone’s here to stay. The two of us ended up in a car-park, talking watt-lessness, waiting for the dark to break, to take on the angel-shark as it made it’s way straight through the nebula. “You just left her there,” a voice said. “Sandy, Budd, which one are you? You just left her there,” it said, “and by now she’s most probably dead.” It’s different now, it was always gonna be, since you told me you never wanted me. I see your face, you’re on top of me, you wanted me for nothing, so why are we still fucking? I’m bullet proof but not for you, you’re the only one that can last straight through. We fix each other, we’re more than lovers, sister and brother, we fix each other. That’s us, looking at us, in a mirror, in a night club, that’s us outside, in a cab, going for a ride, that’s us in a bar, we drink our drinks, we drink ‘em fast, that’s us outside, in a cab, going for a ride. I wonder what you look like in the daylight, I’ve only ever seen you at night. Big pout, hustles her way through the crowd, straight to the speakers, she wants to hear it where it’s loud. She ain’t oblivious to who she is.

“SO, MAU, WHY DON‘T you just pack it all in, man? why don’t you go to Paris and write a book like we saw that man do in that film with Parker Posey and Boris Karloff and you said, “That’s so cool, that’s so fly,” you said that that’s what you were gonna’ do? “Or why don’t you just go and get a job at Mac’s or something?”
Silver Boy asked.
“Maybe I will,” I breathed.
“What, go to Paris?” he asked.
“No, get a job at Mac’s.”
“Yeah, that sounds cool, and while you’re in there picking up an application form, can you pick me up a milkshake?”
“Yeh sure, what flavour?”
“Uh, any flavour but vanilla, last week some girl told me that my semen smells like vanilla milkshake. I think I’ll be off vanilla shakes for a while. Make it strawberry, you can’t really go wrong with strawberries can you,” he said and clicked off.

NOTE: I’ll add one last aside - one line stood out above all others for me. It was, “I want out of … Dead people’s dreams.” And like a fist to the chest I felt a suddent thud, and loss of breath. Is that what I’m doing? It seems to me that any attempt to philosophize and bring coherence to the world is just a distant dream belonging originally to all those before me… and at that moment I felt insignificant… For what dream of my own am I really living?

… and I had no immediate answer.

Change

Today I saw a poster in passing that read something to the effect of:

“Some Talk Change.
Others Create it.”

I’d initially liked the passage. I then began to contemplate what side of the statement I was on. I’ve been doing a lot of talking about change lately. Does this mean I’m not creating any?

Life Sustaining Myth

I’ve been speaking of ‘stories’ for some time now. I’ve realized how the art/act of story telling is a necessary component for how we internalize our reality, and construct our identity and experience. The best philosophy draws attention to those things that everyone knows, and I believe it is clear that the basis of personal growth, of raw communication, of perceptual expression, … of any attempt to articulate experiences is universally (across humans) through narrative.

Paul Ricoeur explains that time and temporality have no place outside of emplotment, or the action of man within a given situation. Time is only recognized once the narrative unfolds and a mechanism is needed for ordering events therein.

It should be understood, then, that life is not the combination of individual events (e.g. E1, E2, E3, E4 ….. and so on). In fact, such disjointed experiece lacks meaning, and must certainly lead to depression, or lack of motivation, or lack of a personal project. Kant said plainly, “Humans are synthesizing animals” — we need to create connections between events.

Ricoeur provides a three-stage account of Mimesis where Mimesis(1) is a “prefiguring stage” that deals specifically with the interalized narratives that construct a reality within each person. It’s our personal story, our personal project. It is the way we explain what we did today, or the story we tell to describe our childhood. Mimesis(2) is a “configuring stage” that is presented; it is a narrative plot configured/imagined/created by an author, as in a work of art (poetry, novel, play, etc). In this stage of mimesis, time can transcend human experience. A novel can convey an experience that lasts longer than a human life (ie. 150 years), or provide a storyline that doesn’t follow sequential notions of time (ie. “Memento”, which jumps forwards and backwards in time). The final stage of mimesis, Mimesis(3), is a “re-figuring stage” of narrative where the reader’s story of reality is necessarily changed in some way by the Mimesis(2), which, again, is the narration presented in the literary work (or artistic work for that matter).

This outline of Mimesis is very clear to me. It makes sense that works of fiction would influence any reader in some way. Given this process, it seems that raw socialization is parallel to the configuring process of fictional narratives. Other people’s stories can influence our Mimesis(3) stage just as easily, and probably more often throughout life (depending on how social you are, or how much reading/art-seeing you do).

I’ve realized that I currently read very few novels, especially fiction. But given this development theory (personal narrative based on the synthesis of three stages of mimesis), I realized that my conception of reality, my life’s narrative, is constantly bombarded and challeged by the many conversations I engage in. I am drawn to socializing, and make an effort to impose meaning to such daily conversations. “Meaning” in the sense that I often (casually) force people into a state of personal awareness, observation and evaluation. The realness of other’s experiences, of other’s narratives always blow me away. For me, conversation is a more organized, more direct access to the questions I’m asking….

Perhaps this is why I am so fond of songs, or movies, or conversations that convey a person’s reality/narrative that I am wholly unfamiliar with, that I cannot fathom actually living. At the very heart of such interactions, my construction/foundation of my reality is challenged. Consequently, my personal narrative is forced to make the necessary adjustment to account for and appreciate the Other’s narrative. It is in this way that we make life. Life then is made. It is our myth to make.

More Shazam pics...

Wow. Ultimate Photographer, Hart Mathews, has more photos of the Shazam during the Championship game in Sarasota, FL 2004. They’re pretty sweet, and gave me goosebumps. (It’s also just pretty weird/cool to see pictures of yourself in motion…)

Of me, I think this one is my favorite:

or this one:

There’s a feeling that comes over me that puts me right back in that moment of throwing that (type of) throw. There’s a concentration and excitement that can barely be explained. A satisfaction of sorts. A giddyness. A moment of pure wonder. I think it’s my favorite moment — that moment of release, of pure suspense —- of pure flight… [I get so fired-up just thinking about it!]

PS: Scobel has a few more pics up as well; I don’t think I’ve offered a link to them before, so now I have. Whew.

Definition of Love

To date, this is my favorite quote about “Love.” It’s from Corelli’s Mandolin, and goes a little somethin’ like this:

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts and then subsides. When it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have grown so intertwined that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Love is not breathlessness, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. It is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body… that is being “in love,” which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away. Your mother and I had it; we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree, not two.”

Man's Searching for Meaning

“Meaning” is probably my current philosophical epicenter. Not the unveiling of it, but the construction of it (and consciousness’ role as the “maker of meaning”). Regardless, I found a quote I really, REALLY liked by Viktor E. Frankl (1959). Dr. Frankl, a psychiatrist and neurologist who was imprisoned at Auschwitz and other Nazi prisons, developed a theory of “logotherapy” which “focuses its attention upon mankinds groping for a higher meaning in life.” I’ve clearly taken a liking to his insights, as he had this to say:

“What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for some goal worthy of him. What he needs it not the discharge of tension at any cost, but the call of a potential meaning waiting to be fulfilled by him… [People] lack the awareness of a meaning worth living for. They are haunted by the experience of their inner emptiness, a void within themselves; they are caught in that situation which I have called the “existential vacuum.” … This existential vacuum manifests itself mainly in a state of boredom… Not a few cases of suicide can be traced back to this existential vacuum… Sometimes the frustrated will to meaning is vicariously compensated for by a will to power, including the most primitive form of the will to power, the will to money. In other cases, the place of frustrated will to meaning is taken by the will to pleasure… Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of life is, but rather must recognize that it is he who is asked. In a word, each meaning is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible …” (p. 166-172)

5 years ago, Leadley gave me the book, The Alchemist, and today I’m finally reading it. I’m enjoying Coelho’s discussion of “Personal Legends,” clearly.

Winter Break 04' Pics

new pics are up from my Christmas Break endeavors. Not too many family pics, just because I got that camera that day from Santa, so the memory card was only 30 big. But I have a lot of other stuff. Mostly poor photography, but I’m working on it. I did very little editing and just threw them all on the web…. what can I say?

That place.

As I look around … I see so much.
A friendly smile and a simple touch.
Hearing sounds of an innocent youth,
Hidden by the beauty of nature’s truth.

Ain’t it sad, it’s not always like this?
When I leave, this is what I most miss.
I’m reachin’ out, grab onto my hand.
Help me now, do whatever you can.

I’m fallin’ free and I’m fallin’ fast. I’m feelin’ lost behind this facemask.
I need a hug, it’s no easy task. A sip of life is all that I ask.
So please … just give me what I need to keep me goin’ strong.
Just try… direct me to the place where the fun lives long.

Lookin’ out across the strawberry sky,
Watching the birds and wishing I could fly,
Feelin’ kinda helpless standin’ on my feet,
An eagle-eyed view would be a mighty fine treat.

It’s dark outside but there’s fire all around,
In my mind, in my heart, it gets my feet off the ground.
Tryin’ to escape, let me soul leave this place,
But no one can go without leaving a trace.

I’m fallin’ free and I’m fallin’ fast. I’m feelin’ lost behind this facemask.
I need a hug, it’s no easy task. A sip of life is all that I ask.
So please … just give me what I need to keep me goin’ strong.
Just try… direct me to the place where the fun lives long.

hmmmmm…. hmmmm…. hmmmm…
hmmmmm…. hmmmm…. hmmmm…

—————————
Summer, 99’.
Reuben on the Harmonica.
Chris Carr on the guitar.
Bell with the vocals, and the lyrics.

Operationally defining "The World"

Something I think I’ve settled on:

When we make mention of/reference to “the world,” we are implying that (those things, systems, structures, beliefs, etc.) which we are not questioning at the present moment.

This was something I jotted in my journal 2 months ago. And today, I opened up Schopenhauer’s book, “The World as Will and Representation, Vol. 1.,” and what’s the first sentence he’s written:

“The world is my representation”

… how appropriate. Schopes, you feel me, dawg. (Ninja, please).

Watching Bailey

[This is an entry in my journal from 12/24/04. Though I don’t remember writing it, I felt like sharing…]

“I’m watching my dog right now, in my living room in Wauwatosa. Her heart and lungs are working overtime to accommodate her old age. She moves everso slowly, rarely getting out of the way of any of the family members. Her hair is thinning and her bones are more pronounced, as the muscle and fat begin to melt away into a sea of droopy skin. She is in her last year of life, no doubt. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if the next moment was her last. Whether it would sadden us is another story altogether. She stares out into space most of her waking life. It’s when we make eye contact that I begin to wonder. Is it affirmation she is after? Love? Care? It couldn’t be more primitive, could it? I mean, she’s eaten already, gone to the bathroom already. Its as if she’s crying out, reaching out.
It makes me dream of a time where I too am so old and elderly — where my lungs and heart are failing me, where all of my bones and joints hurt with every movement, but, despite it all, I’m still alive and fighting, knowing that today is not my last — what then? What would I be caught thinking? Feeling? Saying? And most of all… to whom????

The way it is.

The topic today is: (the positive side of) Isolation.

Despite my colleague, David Taus, anize.org has been all too inactive. I’m rather glad to be back in Oregon, with time and attitude to contemplate. I got in last night, crashed on the floor of my new living arrangement (aka, the Werblow-Bell Estate) and went to class this morning at 10am. I know I’m in the right area of academia for me when I meander into class and nearly drool at the foreshadow of the intellectual feasts I’ve signed up to eat this quarter. Today’s discussion: the introduction of the philosophical challenges of phenomena verses noumena and how 19th Century German thinkers, namely Schopenauer, chose to address it. A year ago, I would have felt a little odd about wanting to buy the books tonight and begin reading ahead, but now, … I’m just plain excited.

The break, I must admit, was too long. I enjoy coming home to Wisconsin; always have. And, after having been gone from its rolling foot hills and hearty patronage for a full year, I was more than excited to return. But alas, the shift was a bit abrupt and I found myself acting as someone I was, as opposed to someone I am — which is wonderful from time to time, especially amongst old friends, but somewhat digressive when done so for 3 weeks and admist many, perhaps TOO many, of those good friends. I’m beginning to think that there are just too many quality people in this world and as privileged as I feel to know so many of them, I would be fooling myself to think that I can continue to remain a big part of their lives — and they mine. Right now, I am teetering on being a reliable and loyal friend to all those I know… ‘teetering’ is the key word. It will not be long before the impossibilities of my situation are unveiled, and my inability to maintain the very relationships that I so honestly adore becomes obviously apparent. This will be my point of departure …

Lately, and by ‘lately’ I mean my flight back to Oregon, I’ve been feeling a progressive sense of isolation … I don’t know what that means. This isn’t the type of isolation that is alienating, or ostracizing. It isn’t the type of isolation that is depressive or self-defeating. It’s almost liberating, on one hand, and utterly, inescapably saddening on the other (I know these aren’t quite opposite terms). I feel like I’m at this delicate equilibrium state, where all my social involvements hang/balance on a very thin wire.

More than most people I know, I feel very blessed and fortunate to feel a sense of belonging to so many incredible, dare I say, ‘groups’. For the sake of ease, I will describe these ‘groups’ as complete social circles. ‘Complete’ in the sense that I feel an overwhelmingly unique sense of belonging and unique ability to contribute to them AND, at the same time, I feel that as a person, my being is fully challenged and satisfied (which are almost one and the same). For clarification and example:

• My high school friends are easily the most loyal and tight-knit group that i’ve ever seen. In comparsion, many if not most of my college friends don’t have the intimate and extensive relations with their childhood friends as I do… and I am ever so thankful. The 12 year run of all of our relations is a testament to the trials of time that defeat most friendship circles. We are still 20 people strong and Jeremy and Caitlyn’s wedding is a testament to that…
• In addition, I’ve managed to explore another society of infinite friendship — Camp Minikani. Infinite in the sense that these relations are so permanent and so ‘in progress’ that they will continue to manifest themselves in my life and identity for as long as I live, PLUS the connections between LT group, past counselors, past campers, past LT’s and past/present role models (heros) is so vast, after looking at the whole picture the ‘reflector’ (our email group), plainly, falls short of being a petty attempt to unite all the camp people who share this deeper cosmic connected to eachother.
• The list goes on. At PLU I made friendships in a way I never knew how - vigorously searching and seeking out the people that really complimented and inspired me. These were people that, from all the ends of the earth, managed to similarly cross paths on the 285 acres of a small liberal arts college in Tacoma, WA. Even now, I could begin to remember all the great friendships that came, changed, and went during my 4 years at PLU, but it would be a shame for that thought to overshadow the ridiculously close and intimate relationships that came from my 2 year-old Housemates, and Reign Family. We shared in an innumerable amount of common goals and common passions and supported/loved eachother through it the entire way (my tattoo is a testament to them and that). An unimaginable bond arises from these types of relations, and I’m just beginning to know what that feels like (now that we have spread into the wake of our undergrad experience).
• And now I am at the University of Oregon, where the people are just as perfect, and the friendships are just as meaningful. I have a family of 60 other ultimate brothers and sisters, and a department of philosophy fellows and grad student companions. We share a common plight, and our similarities provide the grounds for a rare cognitive connection. I feel completely at home here, and, even so early in the game, I can barely imagine leaving.
• But i’m a clinger - I am reluctant to let quality people slip in and out of my life. Life is too absurd to lose track of people. And I have felt a connection with certain Others through random experiences that seems to offer a gentleness and openness that leaves me confident that I could stop what I’m doing and at the drop of a dime and fuse my life with theirs (be it in Seattle with my Shazam family, Costa Rica with my latino family, Florida with an old college friend, Idaho with a fellow Ben Harper fan, up and down the West Coast with Ultimate acquaintances and countless others….). Where do I begin? Or more so, how do I begin if I wanted to?
• And to top it off, I make mention of my Family. The most obvious of social circles. The most obvious of my foundations for belonging. To have a family and avoid/ignore it may very well be the saddest possible scenario for man, the social being. We have nothing if we don’t have family. However, I have been aware of the complete nature of my Pignolet/Kuchler family (and all the joys and losses therein) for quite some time. Even those under this umbrella of relation provoke a feeling in me of overwhelmingness, and to top it off, i’ve begun reconnecting with my, what I’ll term ‘long-lost,’ Bell Family. And even here, at the surface of getting to know the Bell Family, I can feel it’s completeness. Again, I ask, how can I begin to address all of these complete social worlds? The numbers alone make for a near impossible task!

Life demands a certain permenance — one that cannot be afforded to all things. Back when life was shorter and harder, and back when there were less tools to get around (cars, phone, email) maintaining closeness with neighbors and friends was just as challenging, but perhaps easier… proximity-wise. But as social creatures we have blown-up. We have exceeded what was ever thought to be possible. Some of us have networks of friends so vast that we laugh at the statements like “the world is so small sometimes” and chuckle when people think it takes 6 degress of separation to know every human on earth —- it feels more like 3 or 4!

Not only are we dealing with an explosion of social potential, but the technology is so far behind (it causes more problems than it can solve: people begin to rely on email, but there isn’t enough time to address an inbox with 60 new emails a day), the majority of jobs are too demanding to allow one to indulge (or even ‘maintain’ for that matter) the countless friends we have made in life, and to top it off —- we all live far apart yet expect and desire those that love us to show it often and be involved in our (pointless?) lives.

And even now I’m faced with a reality that is becoming more and more dillusional. I believe that I can maintain a closeness with my friends, despite the obvious problems of proximity… but even if that were possible, I have to face issues of time and money. On the one hand, I am a student, and a grad student at that. On the surface, my friends might see this as quite similar to the undergrad lifestyle: felixible. non-chalant. fun. Let me explain upfront: this is not the case! Graduate school is a job; of the most rigorous nature (i’ll come back to this). However, those on the ‘outside’ with real jobs and pseudo-permenant lifestyles can more easily confront the impossibilities of their reality. For example, their realities includes only a few annual Vacation days. These people necessarily CANNOT make time to see all of the people they have come to love and enjoy. Their lives become more permanent in place and in the social contexts they find themselves in. If you really expect to be their friend, you must understand a working-person cannot make time to see you often, not even occassionaly. Even holiday breaks become more of a fly-in, ‘hello’ and fly-out kind of routine. And now let me address what I aforementioned:

Because of the common perception of Graduate School and the university life (mostly by people who have never been, or haven’t been yet), it may be assumed that a grad student would have more felixibilty. Heck, they have 2 or 3 classes a week, and really have only a few days of fixed time commitments. Right? Probably. But it’s not that simple: Grad school is a game/job, where you have things to do, and they are as difficult as your ideas are good, and the game becomes testing it’s students to see how they organize their life in order to be successful. This inherently allows for a flexibility that most jobs don’t have, I agree, HOWEVER —- it forces a relentless level of personal stress and strife to match. I address this concern only to head-off any retort that the life of a student is any less disabilitating on the closeness of social relations. I go on…

This is a passage about ‘isolation.’ I admit that I am beginning to feel the overwhelmingness and inability to maintain the intimate mental and physical proximity that involves me with so many friends and family members across so many social worlds. And even if I were to pretend that this wasn’t the case, and even if I were to continue living the illusion that I can email, call, and visit friends for an entire lifetime —- I would surely receive my wake-up call down the road. Even if I were able to stave off a life of permenance so as to maintain relations with Others, I would slowly see the lives of my friends pick up momentum towards permanence. People get married, have steady jobs, live in the same house and neighborhood for years upon years, and soon, my (in)frequent visits would turn into being the random, nostalgic third wheel, crashing on the couch of my happily married friend for 3 or 4 days before disappearing — out of sight, and probably, usually out of mind. This, obviously, isn’t the ticket to maintaining relations.

I suspect we trust that our friendships will always pick-up where they left off. I suspect that for the rest of our lives we will always welcome old friends under our roofs and relish in past events over a glass of whine(!) and special dinner — but what more could we really imagine? What more could we actually achieve? It’s at this point in my thoughts that I’m begninning to think that putting a commune together doesn’t sound half bad. I mean, how else could you get all of your friends and family living in the same place? I admit simply: you can’t.

2005 will be a year of social honesty for me. I can’t possibly begin to make promises to people. I still owe promises of the past to old friends (which I will carry out … mark my words!). I hope to be a man of my word. If absent from my friends’ lives for any period of time, I at least hope to be a trustworthy and loyal friend. I will always serve as a dependable soldier, and I hope with all my being that my friends will call me into action, in the same ways that I would hope they do the same for me. I admit, i have a world of resources to offer, and nothing would please me more than to be motivated for some cause, and to help a friend in need/transition.

But for now, I will retreat to my quarters day-in and day-out, basking in my solitude, relishing my isolation. I have much to do. Personal goals to accomplish. I am at a place now where 70% of my time is spent on my own, with other people’s books and with my own thoughts. I realize that the nature of my job, as a grad student, demands of me more concentration than I’ve ever been asked to give. This is something I will do for me, and I will sadly watch the common comforts of my social relations with others metamorphosize. There’s no telling what will come of it. There’s no telling who will be there at that Thanksgiving dinner in 2025, myself included. But for 2005, this is where I am…. and it’s where I need to be. That’s just the way it is, and I’m the first to be a little sad.

My only comfort is that there are 6 billion people living on earth right now, and billions that have come before us, each living in a different way. There is no one right way to live for all, but there may be one right way to live for you. I am rigoursly hoping to discover the nature of myself, so as to live right for him (me). My only comfort, revised, is that there have been many great thinkers and influencers that have lived astonishingly lonely lives, and though I see life-long isolation as an impossibility for me, I don’t fear that it may be the life with which I end.

… with that, I go forward.