down and out
home again after a long weekend away. a few things have been wearing on me.
spending my days reading orwell's "down and out in paris and london" left me with a sobered attitude toward the poor and homeless. the way the author writes in such a straightforward style regarding such horrors got me to thinking. i thought, does the quiet desperation of our lives really have to be so sentimentally charged? why can't our discomforts and challenges be part of the homeliness of our lives? why curse our problems over and over, knowing that we'll always have our share? why not just take fascination in this great circus... the ignorance clouding all our minds(a man with a mullet sold me a bike for $10 then proceeded to tell me a fabricated story about whites being encouraged to shoot "negros" in l.a.)...
i told my mother i couldn't imagine myself five years in the future without it freaking me out. earlier today, i told my mom's cousin exactly what i wanted to do when i got out of college. your clothes, your attitude, and your speech decode yourself to others. but we all know what we wish to hide, the right disguises to throw up. its about learning to accept the inevitable (a woman of 70-plus years still smoking two packs a day, in front of her protesting grandchildren, knowing she's her family's last link to her generation), knowing that history is doomed to repeat itself (her daughter encourages her kids to over-eat knowing they'll all grow up overweight, the same problem she's struggled with in the past), and not allowing the little things to bring you down over time. its funny how you wait for summer to free your mind, then as soon as the idleness puts a damper on your spirit, you wait for fall to occupy it for you once again.
maybe i should study abroad in england (or elsewhere) while i still have the chance.
before i start to settle down and become even more complacent.
it seems gaining perspective now will be invaluable in the long run.
spending my days reading orwell's "down and out in paris and london" left me with a sobered attitude toward the poor and homeless. the way the author writes in such a straightforward style regarding such horrors got me to thinking. i thought, does the quiet desperation of our lives really have to be so sentimentally charged? why can't our discomforts and challenges be part of the homeliness of our lives? why curse our problems over and over, knowing that we'll always have our share? why not just take fascination in this great circus... the ignorance clouding all our minds(a man with a mullet sold me a bike for $10 then proceeded to tell me a fabricated story about whites being encouraged to shoot "negros" in l.a.)...
i told my mother i couldn't imagine myself five years in the future without it freaking me out. earlier today, i told my mom's cousin exactly what i wanted to do when i got out of college. your clothes, your attitude, and your speech decode yourself to others. but we all know what we wish to hide, the right disguises to throw up. its about learning to accept the inevitable (a woman of 70-plus years still smoking two packs a day, in front of her protesting grandchildren, knowing she's her family's last link to her generation), knowing that history is doomed to repeat itself (her daughter encourages her kids to over-eat knowing they'll all grow up overweight, the same problem she's struggled with in the past), and not allowing the little things to bring you down over time. its funny how you wait for summer to free your mind, then as soon as the idleness puts a damper on your spirit, you wait for fall to occupy it for you once again.
maybe i should study abroad in england (or elsewhere) while i still have the chance.
before i start to settle down and become even more complacent.
it seems gaining perspective now will be invaluable in the long run.