Someone recently said that I was full of ideas and perspectives, but lacked the foundation to make them real. I have the power and passion, the dreams and aspirations, but no roots. One gust of wind and the whole thing just crumbles…
The idea of having ‘strong opinions, loosely held’ sits well with me. Perhaps too well. I am often hesitant to stand my ground, much too quick to surrender. On the rare occasion I do defend myself, I tend to come across as smug, at best, or vindictive and spiteful, at worst. In the end, neither approach honors me or my ideas and ideals, to say nothing of those on the other side…
I was pretty damn clueless after leaving high school, and all throughout Miami University. I didn’t care much for class, but I became a voracious reader in my ‘free time’. One winter break, I devoured The Fountainhead in four days, later Atlas Shrugged in five. (You should be impressed: I doubt I read 2,000 pages in all of high school and college combined!) Late update: those were my mom’s books!
I spent a lot of time at the library after leaving Oxford. I was fortunate to live near the main branch in Columbus and often went just to pore over the architecture hard-covers you weren’t allowed to check out and I couldn’t afford to buy. I was especially fond of S,M,L,XL by Rem Koolhaas, but also any number of books by Daniel Libeskind, Bernard Tschumi, John Hedjuk, and Peter Eisenman. I’ll deny it if you ask me, but I was also known to check out calculus text books ‘just to stay sharp’.
I dipped into philosophy too, attempting to read all of the big pieces by all of the big names, but all of them bored me. Not so with Friedrich Nietzsche. His work sang to me. I read everything I could get my hands on, from the driest science to the densest prose. Later, I diligently read almost every Hermann Hesse book: Narcissus and Goldmund, Demian, Siddhartha, Steppenwolf, The Glass Bead Game, and so many more. The Journey to the East was one of my favorites.
As you might imagine, I thought myself quite wise. In reality I had at best a cursory understanding what I ingested. And now, as I look back on life, I realize how many of my most cherished ideals I based on that child-like wishful thinking.
I didn’t receive my first clue in life until I turned 25. And yes, I finally realized I was completely clueless: I literally did not have a single clue! As I traveled and saw more of the world, I became acutely aware of my woeful (and at times willful) ignorance.
I became cautious and apprehensive. Soon, I developed an unfortunate habit of adding a ‘but what do I know?’ disclaimer to end of everything I said, thereby negating the validity of my statements. That lasted through my late 20s, sad but true, until Abby finally pointed out the absurdity of my behavior…
Point being, I eventually stopped the tic, but I’m not sure I ever fully resolved the underlying assumption. What do i know? What do I believe? I am always bouncing in between bold leaps of self-assurance (or delusion?) and a grounding self-doubt (or reality?).
Vernon had this wonderful Buddhist text on his wall. This isn’t the exact wording (I never wrote his version down, as I thought doing so ran counter to the spirit of its words), but it’s close enough:
The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he is always doing both.
You can imagine this sang to me as well. I quickly adopted this as my own, not without merit, but again perhaps without fully grasping the meaning. It became another way for me to separate myself from everyone else. What could have been healthy, and to be fair was and still is on some levels, became somewhat corrosive…
One of the themes in The Journey to the East is the idea of a shared journey. When this particular journey falls apart with the disappearance of Leo, H. H. and the others quickly lose their way. As individuals, each believes that he and he alone is on the true path. I understood that the journey did not fail, that each man failed the journey, but never applied it to my life.
Damn you, patterns. Yes, I have seen this all before, over and over again, and not just in books. After a while, the notion of it always being someone, or something, else at fault kinda withers away. Or at least it should…
I always hated the saying ‘perception is reality’, yet I have to agree with its meaning and believe in its relevance—after all, modernity is tailor-made for such a convenient philosophy. But step outside of the make-believe and it quickly falls apart in true matters of the heart and soul.
In many ways, the past year of my life has been much like my 25th. What I thought to be true—that I was aware of my spirit, engaged in my world, open to new experiences—now seems a relic of my early 20s. Fact is, I haven’t done the hard work to make it not just possible, but probable. Fact is, I haven’t focused internally in many, many years.
As mentioned previously, after watching Abby see such great results from doing yoga (she looks better than ever), I finally gave it a try. And I did it again today. I am amazed at how refreshing such a timeless pursuit feels in the face of all of our modern intoxications. I am somewhat surprised at how I’ve taken to it, but the combination of breathing calmly (confidently and consistently too) and turning my attention inward brings me to a new level of awareness. I even feel high for hours after the fact, the best high ever. =)
I know there’s a point or two in here somewhere, and perhaps it’s this: I have always assumed that I had it all figured out. I mean, I wanted it, right? Wishful thinking is not a strategy (yet another lesson I should have learned years ago). Or, the journey didn’t fail me, I failed it. I remain a shell of the man I want to will become, but he seems a lot more real and much closer now than he’s ever been.
It’s been a bumpy ride as of late, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I genuinely look forward to waking up and going to work again, and I hate having to shut down for the night. I finally found a form of exercise that suits my body and mind, just like the music I love. I am (re)building my foundation. I feel like my dreams are within my reach. And I believe the best is yet to come.
NOTE: Slightly edited for clarity and consistency after posting. Gross generalizations kept in tact.
1. I blew my nose so hard I saw stars, which so far has been the highlight of my day and an otherwise miserable end to a wonderful week (awful head cold came in late Saturday night).
2. I did yoga on Saturday morning…
3. … for the full 90 minutes …
4. … and didn’t pass out or throw up, but I came close several times (it was so freakin’ hard, and I’m still sore all over).
5. I finally found something to make me not love Guinness: irish car bombs (truly the worst shot imaginable).
6. I can predict the future, at least within an Ohio State football game: I called both the second quarter interception and the punt return as the players lined up, and I almost nailed the first-half score (I knew we would score four times, but I didn’t think one of them would be a field goal).
7. I never imagined being any happier with the choice I made to join ztail, but Thursday night confirmed that I work with the smartest and most hysterical group of guys ever.
8. I didn’t think people from the Marina left the Marina, much less to go to the Tenderloin, which really, truly is the nastiest part of San Francisco.
9. Architecture in Helsinki, one of the oddest looking / best sounding bands I’ve seen lately, was the highlight of the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show on Friday. CYHSY was boring in comparison.
10. I actually wanted to shop at the GAP (I think it’s more likely I ate at McDonald’s more recently than shopped at the GAP, which means ten years at least). The entire GAP (PRODUCT) RED line is really well done, as is the Apple iPod nano (PRODUCT) RED, and for an excellent cause. Seems they completely sold out online in the first weekend too, which is proof of the idea and well deserved validation of their execution.
The sun sets behind Mt. Sutro and the rest of San Francisco on Wednesday, October 11, 2006
It isn’t often that I see the sun set in San Francisco. For one, the fog is almost always thick well before the day is done, leaving most evenings to end in a dull wash of progressively darker grays. It bothered me in the beginning, much like winter in the midwest always wore me down, especially at the end of March, with spring so near and yet still so far away…
But it’s nights like these—summer in San Francisco—when the inland air is warm enough to keep the fog at bay, that erase those thoughts and emotions from my body and soul. When the sun shines in San Francisco, the city takes on a completely different air. It’s lighter, more buoyant, less restrictive (or maybe that’s just me). But coupled with the cool ocean breeze, there’s no place I’d rather be.
When I finally started working in at Integrate in 1999 (after years of working almost every night in one restaurant or another), I remember well how startled I was at the beauty of the setting sun. I also remember thinking it strange that I forget something so fundamentally magical, and also completely banal (I mean, the sun sets every night, whether I’m there to see it or not). But it really does take my breath away to catch that instance when the day slips into night…
I feel like I too am at a similar point of inflection. Where once my life was a struggle to keep pace, things seem to be slowing down again. Perhaps I’m mastering my new world. Or perhaps I’m learning to relax and enjoy the ride again. Either way, it feels good to be warm again. I’ve missed this feeling.
Google paid $1,650,000,000.00 for YouTube today. For their investors, that’s a 41x return in less than two years. For the founders, well, damn. Word is they each pocketed between $100,000,000 and $200,000,000. Yes, each. In less than two years.
YouTube is truly brilliant. It, or some variation on its trailblazing theme, will be the way we experience media in the years to come. The interface itself, where the entire video is a play button, puts even Apple to shame in simplicity (and while I’m thinking of Apple, do I really have to use iTunes for everything?). Perhaps more important is the power of immediacy.
Think about what you have to do to watch a dvd: find it (assuming the disc still lives in its original case), power on the dvd player, sit through a ridiculously long and unskippable warning message, plus the studio intro, only to come to an unusable interface (where’s the damn remote?!!).
YouTube is instantaneous. All you do is press play. While searching on the site itself is somewhat painful, I expect (hope) Google will solve that riddle in short order. What ‘Tooble’ then becomes is a jukebox of our collective memory. What was once forgotten is now only a click away…
Think about how many things you want to watch but don’t own. Or can’t own. Stuff no one owns, but we all own in our hearts and minds.
In many ways, YouTube is the new MTV. Or maybe I am, on a much more intimate (and immediate) scale, because of it. So where to begin?
The Unicorns in 2004:
versus The Dead Milkmen in 1993:
If I wasn’t so tired, I would tell you any number of detailed stories attached to these songs (such as, hearing the Unicorns for the first time at American Apparel on Haight Street, asking the heavily sedated / ridiculously stoned staff ‘who sings this song?’ to which they reply in unison ‘the Unicorns’ to which I reply ‘oh, obviously’; staying late after work to send AIMs about unicorns from Sterling’s computer: ‘I love unicorns and rainbows’; seeing the Dead Milkmen perform live, not once but twice, with Mojo Nixon as the opener for the second show; and on and on). Or maybe I could tie this post together with a word about being young, precocious, and not at all afraid to run with it, much like subjects of this post: the Unicorns, the Dead Milkmen, and YouTube.