It was 60degrees today!
I am older.
It was starting to get dark out, I was walking down the street I lived on during my first two years of high school when suddenly I noticed a car with a camper parked basically in front of the house that I lived in; I peeked in as I walked by it and I saw a woman sleeping on her right side facing (who I assumed was) her baby. The baby was laying on his back crying hysterically (perhaps eager to be held upright?) and moving around like babies do (I don’t know much about babies) and she didn’t seem to be conscious of it so I decided to call an ambulance. When the ambulance and the cops arrived so did her husband. We all learned that the woman happened to be into deep sleep, not dead. Another thing we learned was that the husband had a warrant for his arrest for reckless driving. He indeed got arrested but only after he nonchalantly finished drinking a glass of red wine and at the same time I offered a sincere apology and tried to explain that I just wanted to help. At this point everyone had gone from acting alarmed to calmed and I wasn’t condemned for my actions, as the husband shook his head with a smirk on his face and seemed to be glad that IF his wife and newborn had really been at risk, they would have been “saved”. Not only was I concerned about all the trouble I had caused but I was also secretly wondering who was going to pay the ambulance bill. Do people call the cops first and the cops decide to call an ambulance? What exactly is the protocol in this type of situation? Who pays the ambulance bill? Then I realized why (as it is scientifically proven) almost no one wants to take charge in case of emergency when other persons are involved, because deep inside no one wants to be responsible for the consequences of helping a stranger.
Not fond of winter.
The fine line between having control and feeling as if you could lose it any second. Too complex for absolutely no reason, that I definitely am. Is being complex and intense and over-thinking a choice? or a bad habit?
I called him, one of my older and wiser American friends and I said what I was afraid to say out loud to anyone other than a couple of my close girlfriends. “Should I go to the hospital? My mind is starting to take over and my body is getting ill.” I always remember what I read in a Tibetan Buddhism book many years ago, I read that we talk about our body (or mind) as if it was an entity of its own, instead of referring to it as “I”. It’s hard to explain, which reminds me of something else I read that said that if you couldn’t explain something perhaps you hadn’t understood it. I’ll attempt to explain it again, my body and my mind are me, therefore I should not refer to them as a separate entity. -Well, that was easy!
He said, in a very calm way: “You don’t need to go to the hospital, you’re just living life. Life has lows and if we list everything that you’ve been going through lately, you’re currently in a low.” Eventually, as he continued to give me his opinion, which I value and highly appreciate and take under consideration, it all started to make sense. I didn’t need to go to the hospital, I needed to talk to someone who cared, someone who knew me beyond the surface level, someone who could appreciate my “passionate” personality and point out its pros and cons, someone who could help me find direction.
In the midst of it all, I also emailed an acquaintance who’s a neuroscientist and I’m supposed to chat with him on Thursday afternoon. I hope that I still remember what exactly I wanted to converse about with someone who knows more about the brain and its complexities than the average person. He taught me that in life, we all need mentors.
Another friend of mine wrote this to me today:
"It is really important to have lots of support from people around you. Nobody got to be super successful or whatever by just doing everything on their own; somebody taught them their trade, somebody supported them financially or even introduced them to the right people. We are all connected and if we want something, oftentimes we have to ask for help from people." Which reminded me of something I read last week:
"No one – not rock stars, not professional athletes, not software billionaires, and not even geniuses – ever makes it alone.”
Have you ever been so mentally stimulated (without the influence of any substance, besides coffee of course) that you felt like you were going to collapse? I’m sure you have. I’m sure most people who have experienced constant change or drastic change have been overwhelmed by the mental stimulation that new situations and challenges bring along. This isn’t an essay, I am not going to go back and proof read this and correct or reword my sentences. I guess I just have a waterfall of thoughts (which is commonly referred to as a train of thought?), random and perhaps very irrelevant thoughts and for some reason, I tend to keep most of my thoughts to myself. I’m not comfortable being completely vulnerable sharing what really lays on my mind. People could very easily see me as something -permanently-, or maybe they couldn’t or wouldn’t but that fear, that fear is only natural.
I concluded that I have been mixing the wrong ingredients (activities), in a similar way to mixing beer and red wine and white wine and whiskey and vodka and eventually waking up the morning after regretting it. We push things -unnecessarily. We want to feel it all. I want to feel things and I want to understand things and I want to read philosophical and fictional books and listen to music and read about whales and watch old foreign films and talk to people who have interesting stories and get nipple piercings, all at once. Incapable of doing so, I slowly feel the tension taking over the muscles on my shoulders, I get anxious and I start to feel physically ill. I walk the fine line between wanting do it all and not wanting to do anything at all. I want to get up and go and I want to lay down and close my eyes and rest. I want to get on a plane and go to a different continent, I want to walk through the busy streets of Tokyo again and I want to lay on a hammock on a secluded island. I want to eat honey and fruits and be healthy and I want to eat ice cream and fried fish and stinky cheese and drink sparkling lemonade. “Go do it!” You may say. But it’s not that simple, it’s definitely doable but not that simple. Though ironically what I want more than anything is to be simple.
I have been listening to music in Spanish, from the 60’s (each song is like a play), it’s purely dramatic, passionate, romantic and a bit more innocent than music nowadays. It’s sweet and dreamy and naive and for some crazy reason… I like it.
I wonder if the songs are as dramatic as they are because (as my grandma has told me) in the 60’s people in third world countries didn’t have TV’s and they would listen to the radio and create fictional characters in their heads… I like to imagine what my mother and particularly her older sister were like when they were young. My aunt died a few weeks ago, and that has been one of the most devastating events in my life. And if you know me, you know that I am terrified of death. I imagine them being young, natural and pretty, running around happy while dealing with the tragic and dramatic events (which they must have gone through) in their lives.- Just like the rest of us. I imagine them being unaware of the life that they were going to live, I imagine their before and I see their after. I see my before and I imagine my after. It’s a reversed activity because I only get to see one of the two ends (“where I end and you begin”) and I’m more intrigued by the mysterious one, although according to professionals I am/you are/we are supposed to only focus on ‘now’, it’s just so easy to be attracted to, curious of and naturally intrigued by ’before’ and ‘after’.
"It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being."
While I listen to dramatic music in Spanish I’m either reading or walking, walking super fast. I usually read on the train, and sporadically I observe people through the corner of my eye. I have never seen crazier hairstyles, or people who do things wanting attention but pretending that they are unaware or careless of being watched! I’ve also been reading some of Malcolm Gladwell’s work, I’ve thought about writing him a letter asking him to share his purpose prior to writing a book. I want to ask him if his intention is to challenge people mentally to the point that I’ve been challenged, if so, he can feel like he’s accomplished it. Books should have “Purpose Intended” on the front page instead of “For -this/that person-“.
If I shared everything that crosses my mind, I’d be scarier than I probably already am. That’s why I admire famous writers who do not care about what others may think of their extended imagination when writing fictional stories. I hope one day I get to be more careless and I am fully comfortable to proudly work with what I’ve got.
Like Jean-Paul Sartre said: “Words are loaded pistols.”