it’s difficult to be upright and perverse, emotional and intellectual, impenetrable and vulnerable, without sacrificing the integrity and value of all of them.

—corus aquilo

This is the first time that a comment has been so good, it spawned another entry (although I fail to see how being a well-rounded individual has anything to do with personal identity, so I cut that part out).

In P.E. during high school, I learned that there’s no such thing as the perfect athlete. If someone builds up their speed, they lose endurance. If someone works on their strength, they lose flexibility. To be a perfect athlete is impossible, because there’s a very strict physical limitation involved.

To be well rounded in a much more general sense, to be a modern day (non-pedagogically relevant) Renaissance Man, on the other hand, is only limited by the mind. This means that many qualities do not oppose each other the way physical qualities do. One can be cerebral, intellectual, yet emotional at the same time. One can be firm and opinionated about recycling, yet open-minded about god and religion, all at once. One can appreciate fucking hard and fucking gently, because one does not take away from the other.

The key to this is a separation of self from bias. One has to be able to appreciate anything from any other point of view. To do this requires an almost purely subjective mindset, tearing oneself away of ones own bias. Only then can one improve in any aspect. The hardest thing, as noted by corus aquilo, is keeping the integrity and value of both, because appreciation, not enjoyment, is the true measure of being rounded. They may go hand-in-hand, as appreciation often leads to enjoyment, but it’s the basis of such that becomes important. There’s a fine line between those who enjoy a box of Kraft Dinner as much as 20 oz. New York steak, and those who can appreciate the two. The former is considered a person with no taste, the latter can be considered a cosmopolite.

The Olympic decathlon record holder often holds the title of “the Worlds Greatest Athlete”. It’s the only objective test of all around athletic ability, measured in speed, spring, strength, and stamina. To be a better person in the general sense, is to be a rounded in much the same manner. The measure is anything from conversational skills, to generosity, to golf handicap, to patience, to academic achievements.

The only objective test is life.

With change comes the need for control.

And with emotions running through me in an almost uncontainable, effusive manner, that need for control has never been more necessary.

Usually, this comes easily. It feels as if I’ve been training my whole life for such a thing, that I’ve spent most of my time working towards becoming a cerebral person. Except that in the past, it’s was to edulcorate the pain.

Now, it’s to control the happiness. The almost ineffable feeling of euphoria.

Sometimes, I can barely contain the surge of emotion, and I have to stop myself from acting out, to keep my mind in check. I refuse to be one who acts out of emotion. I refuse to be one who’s at the whim of whatever mood I’m in.

I will be stronger than that which has become so important to me. I will be in control of that which I’ve sought so long to have.

Because balance is more important than happiness.

Out of the storm of life I have borne away only a few ideas — and not one feeling. For a long time now I have been living, not with my heart, but with my head. I weigh, analyze my own passions and actions with severe curiosity, but without sympathy.

—Pechorin, A Hero of Our Time

When I was younger, I decided that I wanted to cast all my emotion aside, because at the time I knew nothing but pain. I set this as my goal, and started to work towards a sterile, cerebral mindset. I wanted to feel nothing, and this idea followed me through to university.

At this time, I never believed that I was completely successful; I still felt too much. However, as my situation changed, as I met new people with good hearts and minds, I experienced what happiness was like. I was never satisfied though, never happy enough, and always wanted more but could never achieve it. Suddenly, it felt as if my cerebral goal was too successful, and I was stuck, I was numb.

I’ve gone from one extreme to the other, from wanting nothing to wanting everything. In both cases I was a failure, but it’s only now that I realize that success would have assuredly meant no turning back. I believe that when a certain extent is reached, one becomes ignorant to anything that could possibly change oneself. Now I understand the balance, the dichotomy that absolutely must exist in order to have a healthy mind.

And things are much better this way.

When I went home a few months ago, I found a copy Soul Mountain at Chapters, which I had been looking for, ever since I found out about it. I’ve been reading as much as I can lately, whenever I have the time and the energy to concentrate on what Gao Xingjian is trying to narrate to me.

The thing that makes the autobiography interesting so far is that Xingjian was incorrectly diagnosed with fatal lung cancer, and after proper review, had been given a second chance on life. His outlook changes, and he begins to see everything around him very differently.

I’ve lately felt that, although I’ve never been threatened with any life-altering incidents, I’ve begun to see things differently as well. It’s as if I have nothing and everything to live for. That there would be no difference between dying tomorrow or in eight decades. It’s almost as if I’ve had my fair share of experiences, each one as important as the other in shaping who I am, good or bad, and that this is already sufficient for me to be satisfied with my life. Perhaps I feel this is true when I compare the amount that I’ve already learned with the infinite amount that is impossible to learn. After all, what is the purpose of life anyway? For me, it is to continually shape myself into a better person, whether it’s intelligence, or a better appreciation of music, or dexterity, or anything. And since there is no absolute goal I have to reach (or can reach), there is no way for me to fail, and death henceforth becomes meaningless.

When I tried to explain this to someone, he got confused, and thought that I was telling him about how I had experienced all there is to experience already. This couldn’t be further from the truth. There are a plethora of things I haven’t done, that I haven’t been through, and whenever I’m given the chance to actually experience one of these things, I feel as if I’ve gained more out of life.

Instead of seeing the act of living as crossing out items on a life-long “to do” list, I see it as writing down items on a “have done” list.

The greatest distinction for me between these two worldviews is that I can take my time in doing what I want, instead of feeling rushed to accomplish as much as I can before I die. Seeing life this way has certainly allowed me to be a much more relaxed, flexible, easy-going person, uninhibited by the fear of death. The good thing about this is that I didn’t have to fool myself into this view, simply because I was unsatisfied with my life. Somehow, this mindset shaped itself in my brain, and eventually manifested itself through my ever-continuing maturity.

It has made life meaningful and meaningless at the same time.

Yo.

It’s been difficult to write lately. Sometimes I peruse other peoples’ blogs, note their wit and style, and wish I could write as interestingly as they do. Then I remember that I only write for myself anyway and that it doesn’t matter if I sound boring or pretentious. Nevertheless, my writers’ block has partially been due to the fact that I’ve been experiencing some odd mood swings. It’s not even so much due to the ephemeral nature of my emotions, but more related to the fact that I don’t understand what I’m feeling.

Some things make me happy. Some things make me depressed.

I think I’m mostly just content, which is a feeling I’m not quite used to yet. It’s almost as if I’m floating in a pool of lukewarm liquid, unsure of what my senses tell me. All I know is that my dysthymic phase has long left me. For now, I have resigned myself to experiencing such emotions with an open mind, with the hope that I will some day understand them.

I remember wanting to keep my emotions in check a long time ago, wanting to become a completely cerebral person. Nowadays, I’m not so sure that this was such a good idea, not that I’ve been able to fully succeed in such a monstrous task. Perhaps a balance is needed in something such as this as well. A lack of emotions may cause a better appreciation for the few emotions one experiences, or vice-versa.

My rationale has changed on this because my experiences have changed. Growing up in a chaotic world of confusion and pain, I wanted an emotional barrier to prevent any further mental agony. Now, I’ve accomplished more, loved more, been loved more, and felt more. Perhaps I now feel that happiness is worth the possibility of mental anguish. Sometimes it feels as if I’m waiting for a terrible incident to revert my views. Life, however, seems to be getting better.

I just wish I knew what I was feeling.

I am usually not one who professes to know a lot. I’m often fairly humbled in front of many others who possess a greater intelligence than me (although I know my fair share of stupid people). I think that intelligence is something about myself that I’ll never be satisfied with. There are too many things to know and learn and improve upon, and the pursuit of such would take longer than an eternity.

Reading back on some of my entries, something which has been hard to do lately, I feel like a child again. My entries seem to be filled with such uncerebral emotion sometimes. It’s as if I can be greatly bothered by things that I should be able to overcome. Of course, it’s writing here which helps me out when I need it, when it feels like no one can understand or relate. It all just fills this written history with bias. Nothing can change the fact that I am still a human person who has emotions, although my life experiences have dampened them considerably.

I feel young when I realize how much these emotions can sometimes affect me.

I’m still unsure whether it would be better or worse to feel more. On the one hand, I can keep myself in check and keep my actions consistent if something happens which might upset me. On the other hand, I feel numb, as if things which should bring me pleasure end up being nothing in particular.

Balance needed in yet something else.

I’ve come to a point in my life where I’ve achieved my stability. That’s not to say that it won’t disappear once a new situation arises, but it seems that my loss of balance has given me practice in regaining it.

The future seems so uncertain. I don’t have a roommate for the summer, and I don’t even know if I need one. Everyone is talking about moving in with each other, but none of our leases end on the same month. I might not be graduating in a month if I fail any courses, a very distinct possibility. That means that my graduation ceremony would be delayed, and I would need to register for a summer semester. I don’t even give a shit about the graduation ceremony, but it’s not like I would be going for myself. I don’t even have a job lined up any time soon, something which I am desperately in need/want of.

Yet in the face of such uncertainty, I have been able to remain relatively stable. I’m not sure why this is. Possibly, the taste of good living I had last summer has created a kind of hope in me, a hope with no-strings-attached.

What an odd turn of events, that having a content situation (and even losing it) has made me “happier”. I wonder if it’s just a phase, that I’m still riding off a store of emotions, and that once the store in drained, I’ll become a bitter person. Somehow I doubt it, but one can never tell.

I can now safely say that I am a better person, although if history has taught me anything, it’s that anything can change.

And yet there is still a wish for change.

I came home yesterday with a note on my desk, and it said that Dolly was being taken for a walk.

My first reaction was disbelief. I couldn’t understand how someone could just take my cat for a walk. I was beside myself with shock. I felt violated. I felt insulted. I felt terrible.

I hadn’t walked Dolly yet, for several reasons. First of all, I didn’t have her microchipped, so any chance that she gets away would be devastating. Secondly, I hadn’t decided whether I should take her out yet, since she might miss being outside too much after her first time. That was a big decision for me, one that I hadn’t made yet, but one which was made for me.

The most important point is that Dolly had her first walk without me. I wasn’t there to see how she reacts with the world, I wasn’t able to be the first person to let her outside.

I stood in my room for ten minutes in disbelief. I couldn’t even wrap my head around how someone could do such a thing, to walk into my home and violate my feelings in such a way. I put on my headphones, put on my fuck off playlist, and sat under my desk, shaking my head. This was the most offensive thing anyone has ever done to me in my life.

When the realization that there was no other first walk sunk in, I started to sob. The shock segued into depression, and I slumped onto the ground, pulling my hair, still in disbelief. I cried for a good while, something I haven’t done for eight or nine years. I cried so hard that my tear ducts felt like they were being sucked of their fluids and the walls were starting to touch each other. By the end of it, my eyes had the old familiar swollen feeling, and I was exhausted. I showered and tried to wash the mucus from my hair.

The whole situation has made me more fully understand how much I care about Dolly. I already knew how much I cared about her, and I appreciated her before, but I never realized the extent of it until now. I don’t see her as a pet. I see her as a child.

It’s also made me think about the nature of good and bad, and how much of a balance there is. I never really believed that either existed, since one bad thing generally spawns a good thing, such as murder helping to control overpopulation, or genocide leading to beautiful art/culture. Of course, I’ve never been through either, so my thoughts are quite limited.

I just can’t see the good in this situation. I can’t see how this can be anything but bad. I haven’t learned anything from this, one of the only possible justifications for it happening, and I have lost even more faith in humanity.

Seeing the good in this would be healthy for me.

The idea of unbalanced relationships was brought to my mind over the weekend. For a relationship to work, both parties must be satisfied with the relationship. If one person isn’t happy, then the relationship is bound to fail, unless work can be done to appease that person.

An interesting idea that arises from this is the occurrence of relationships in which both parties have differing reasons for being together. For example, one person might like the good time that the other is able to give, while the other person might like the intelligence of the first person.

I imagine that a trophy husband or wife relationship would be like this. One person has money to offer, whereas the other person has looks, and both are willing to sacrifice for the other.

Even a relationship as unbalanced as this is able to work, as long as both people are happy. And what if one person wants one thing from the other that can only be temporarily provided? The relationship becomes temporary itself, although not to both people.

Yet can such a relationship work? That depends on the definition of “work”. I don’t think that such a relationship can last for long. After all, it is based on the fundamentals of hedonism, to one person at least. The other person, aware of this or not, will only be left alone in the end.

So, hypothetically, one may look at both cases, one case where both parties are aware of the temporary status, and the other case in which only one member knows of such sinister motivations.

The former can be successful, as both people have an understanding of the situation, although an ending of the terms may cause problems such as the end of a friendship. The latter, on the other hand, can only lead to pain.

Being confused about either can only lead to worse.

I think Dolly may be interested in having another cat around the house. I’ve been playing some cat sounds, and no matter where she is in the apartment, she’ll coming running into my room. A second cat is something I only started to consider this term. Last term it felt as if I wouldn’t be able to handle the chores, let alone doubling my annual veterinarian bill. Sometimes she seems lonely though, like when she immediately starts to cry when I walk in the door after a day of school, her protesting only being soothed after picking her up, and being replaced by a low purr. I’ve always seen myself as a one cat person; I think I’d feel a little imbalanced if I had more than one. If I do decide to get one, it will definitely be after I graduate, definitely after I find a stable job, and possibly after I can purchase a condo. It would be more for Dolly than for me though. I can’t imagine finding another cat that is as well-adapted as she is, so the idea scares me a little.

One time I discussed with Pita whether he would ever consider getting two dogs. He said that he couldn’t, not just because it would be much harder to handle, but because he would feel more favourable to one or the other.

The idea of favour is one that I haven’t been able to understand. How can parents love all their kids without liking one more than the other, especially when one follows the desires of the parents more closely. It might be something I don’t understand, being an only child. If such a balance is possible, wouldn’t polygamous relationships work as well? I think part of the misunderstanding stems from my confusion of relational love and parental love as well.

For love is the root of my imbalance.

I went to the Black Tomato yesterday, which was a small restaurant with a decent atmosphere (though I think it would have been better at night), which served jazz along with your meals. You could purchase jazz albums from the side of the restaurants, and numerous portraits of jazz greats were hung near the top of the walls. The meals were pretty pricey; the sandwiches cost over 10 dollars, and the 7oz. filet mignon was $24.95. I was really considering the filet mignon since I so rarely get a chance to go out and eat at a nice restaurant, but I decided that I had nothing to celebrate. I went with a flank sandwich, which had thinly cut strips of marinated steak with sauteed onions, and melted cheese, baked on French bread. The put a sort of sweet mustard with it, that gave it a spicy, juicy taste, which was excellent. I had to get a pint of Strongbow, since they didn’t have Double Diamond. In total it cost me about $20.00.

It was comical to see what kind of manners people brought to the table. You could tell who was an executive by the way they broke their bread, or you could tell who was a administrative assistant by the way they cleaned their teeth with their tongue. I wondered if their manners were a result of their profession, or their upbringing.

Continue reading

I never did express any resolution on my jealousy situation. After thinking about the situation for a while, I realize that I can still be a jealous person. It’s almost as if I now know that I’m human. “Still, it’s nice to know I’m capable of tears!”, Lermontov’s character, Pechorin, tells us.

I’m not quite sure if this is a good thing or not. After all, I spent a good deal of my early consciousness trying to become a completely cerebral person. I haven’t been entirely successful, after all, I’m human, but I do believe that I have achieved a degree of logic that I can be content with. It makes me wonder how Lermontov, as we can see through his character, can be so “evil” a person. As he admits, much of his character’s traits are based on his own.

I simply wish that my mind and judgment wouldn’t be so clouded as it had been on that day. It’s a little scary, not knowing in what terrible way I can act out in.

I once met someone who was in total control of his emotions. In this way, he could feel when he wanted. This allowed him to lose himself in a greatly touching movie, but also gave him a control of any negative emotions he may experience. I looked up to this person greatly, something that I wish I could say was more common in the people that I know. It seemed like such an amazing ability, although many people whom I express this to disagree.

And I still haven’t decided whether I disagree as well.