October 25, 2010 § Leave a comment
During this whole college process everyone has decided to hibernate. They are sucked into their own worlds stuck obsessing over themselves and how they will be perceived by a college admissions officer. I have never seen the senior class more self-absorbed.
Although I feel I barely know my friends anymore and dread them opening their mouths because I know it will produce self-loathing, this process has helped me understand an important thing about myself. Since no one wants to leave their house unless its for school or meeting with a college counselor, I’ve had to learn to enjoy time by myself.
At first it was hard. I felt like a loser sitting home alone on Saturday nights and was angry at my friends for neglecting their social lives. I missed being around people besides my family and prayed for excuses to leave my house on weekends. I was lonely and not used to being my myself.
After a week of this I started to see the perks of time off from the rest of the world. I no longer looked forward to hanging-out with friends because they were so crabby. Instead I sought a new friend: myself. At that moment, the only agreeable person in my life was me. Previously when I was alone I only worried a bout what others were doing and how I wasn’t being included. Now, the only time I was stressed was when I was with other people. It brought me to realize the distinct difference between loneliness and solitude is stress vs. peace.
September 30, 2010 § Leave a comment
Jack London grew up the same way every California kid should: in a house of absolute weirdness.
Born an illegitimate child with a mother who claimed to be in touch with certain Native American spirits, Jack was largely raised by his nanny, ex-slave Virginia Prentiss (of course this was HUGELY controversial, just like anything a Californian does). His step father was loving Civil War veteran, but he could be very odd at times. Of course his family life was unusual, just like most Bay Area families.
Jack truly fit the Bay Area stereotype when he dropped out of Berkley for being “not alive enough” and a “passionless pursuit of passionless intelligence.” Not even Berkley was weird enough for him. Instead he sailed to the Klondike gold rush in order to find himself, and eventually find his stories.
The rest of his life is a tangled web to two marriages, radical political views, and international success as an author. But part of me loves the fact that he was just another weird kid from Oakland once upon a time. I’m sure he just wanted to be as unique as possible and stand apart from the crowd in true California fashion. I think this is what makes him such a unique writer and gives him the voice that he has.
September 14, 2010 § 1 Comment
How many little girls do you know who dream of attending a ball in a pumpkin and leaving behind a glass slipper like in Cinderella? How many young women do you know who fantasize of being awakened by their own Prince Charming like in Sleeping Beauty? How many wives do you think would give anything to have the happily ever after of Beauty and the Beast?
Disney has created a fail-proof formula for romance and a fulfilling relationship: Princess is in trouble and faces adversity of some sort (usually evil witch or wizard), Prince comes in and saves her, and they fall in love and live together forever in blissful happiness.
Ironically, it doesn’t seem that Disney’s love life resembled a fairy tale at all. There is very little information about his wife other than that she was named Lillian and she was an ink artist at Disney Studios. There love appeared to be nothing like the ones Disney recalled in his famous Princess stories. Instead it seems very distant and lacked any real passion.
It seemed to me Disney was a workaholic and loved the characters he created more than people in his own life. Disney once confessed, “I love Mickey Mouse more than any woman I’ve ever known.” Can you imagine his wife reading that? That’s like a man telling his wife he loves his golf clubs more than his children or his car more than her. I understand Mickey Mouse was very real to him because he was his own creation, but I once again would hope he could love his wife just as much. Their private and concealed feelings make me wonder if there were any really feelings at all.
No one knows what goes behind closed doors, but I hope no one ever had to tell dear ol’ Mickey, three’s a crowd.
September 9, 2010 § Leave a comment
Yesterday I came home to an intruder in my room. He was flitting about my windows and bumping into them as if he were trying to break through the glass. This intruder was a flea, not bigger than a nickel.
I tried to ignore him. His buzzing started out soft. I turned on music. He flew by my ear singing a buzz just for me. I kept typing. He darted across my keyboard. His buzzing grew louder. I tried to look away, but it was just too much. Finally in a moment of passion, I smacked him down on my desk with my bare hands.
Maybe it was the bug innards smeared across my palm or maybe it was the relief from the buzzing, but I suddenly felt remorse for the sad little flea. I had just ended a life of a creature. I had snuffed it out as easily as blowing out a candle. The flea had probably meant no harm to me or even realized I was there. However, I had decided my peace and quiet was worth more than this creature’s life. I feel this is what really differs humans from all other beasts that walk the earth. Animals kill for a reason, whether it is for food or a mate, it always serves a purpose. We kill for convenience. It is as if we act as a God over the animal kingdom. So we are faced with the question, is it our right to judge which life is worth more than another?