why cannot I live in the moment?
In a few weeks, ckd and I are due to travel to Washington, DC to meet his parents (who will be visiting there from overseas). I like going to DC; the museums are awesome (although some of them are just über busy and overwhelming). Favourite stops: the museum shop at SI/NASM, National Building Museum.
On a trip a couple of years ago we stayed at a hotel in Georgetown (thanks to a deal from Site 59 (which specializes in last minute travel deals and bundles flights with hotels and/or cars). There was a really neat (and tiny) store that sold used CDs. ckd is a used CD fiend; he loves to shop for them and trawl through miles of bins in the hope of happening upon a "find". I'm not as big into CD shopping as he is, but I do occasionally like a quick browse.
While he trawled through each of the bins, one of us came across a CD Single from Alanis Morissette: Joining You. What struck me wasn't (just) the title, but the fact that the CD single had a "melancholy mix" of the title song. I've been a fan of Alanis' music since Jagged Little Pill in 1995. Between that, and that I can tend towards "melancholy" myself, I figured I'd throw it on the purchase pile.
over the past few days my iPod has played These (a)R(e) The Thoughts for me twice in quick succession (one from the aforementioned Joining You CD single, another from MTV Unplugged).
I wish I had within myself the courage to think like Alanis, to wonder and consider my actions, my life, those around me. can blindly continued fear-induced regurgitated life-denying tradition be overcome?.
And then it's the more personal lines why do I say I'm fine when it's obvious when I am not? and why do I fear that the quieter I am the less you will listen?. But in the end it comes down to two lines in the last part of the song to say it all for me: why is it such work to stay conscious and so easy to get stuck, and not the other way around? and why cannot I live in the moment?
Even if we don't get to Georgetown and search through the music bins again, can I let myself think as Alanis does, honestly? why is it so hard to be objective about myself? In so many ways I don't feel like I am mumble slur years old. Will I ever feel "appropriately" old? Perhaps the better word is "mature": appropriately mature. It's not (as much) to do with chronological age as it is with feeling like I haven't made sufficient "progress" towards life goals that I should have reached by now.
On a trip a couple of years ago we stayed at a hotel in Georgetown (thanks to a deal from Site 59 (which specializes in last minute travel deals and bundles flights with hotels and/or cars). There was a really neat (and tiny) store that sold used CDs. ckd is a used CD fiend; he loves to shop for them and trawl through miles of bins in the hope of happening upon a "find". I'm not as big into CD shopping as he is, but I do occasionally like a quick browse.
While he trawled through each of the bins, one of us came across a CD Single from Alanis Morissette: Joining You. What struck me wasn't (just) the title, but the fact that the CD single had a "melancholy mix" of the title song. I've been a fan of Alanis' music since Jagged Little Pill in 1995. Between that, and that I can tend towards "melancholy" myself, I figured I'd throw it on the purchase pile.
over the past few days my iPod has played These (a)R(e) The Thoughts for me twice in quick succession (one from the aforementioned Joining You CD single, another from MTV Unplugged).
I wish I had within myself the courage to think like Alanis, to wonder and consider my actions, my life, those around me. can blindly continued fear-induced regurgitated life-denying tradition be overcome?.
And then it's the more personal lines why do I say I'm fine when it's obvious when I am not? and why do I fear that the quieter I am the less you will listen?. But in the end it comes down to two lines in the last part of the song to say it all for me: why is it such work to stay conscious and so easy to get stuck, and not the other way around? and why cannot I live in the moment?
Even if we don't get to Georgetown and search through the music bins again, can I let myself think as Alanis does, honestly? why is it so hard to be objective about myself? In so many ways I don't feel like I am mumble slur years old. Will I ever feel "appropriately" old? Perhaps the better word is "mature": appropriately mature. It's not (as much) to do with chronological age as it is with feeling like I haven't made sufficient "progress" towards life goals that I should have reached by now.