Summer Saturday and Sunday

Saturday morning runs are the absolute best. Once I turn off the side street, the neighborhood seems to come alive again. Children are playing at the nearby park or riding their bikes, and couples are walking their dogs with a coffee in hand. As I zip by the houses, a sudden, strong smell of pancakes and fried bacon lingers for a few moments. It always catches me off guard (in a good way), and I like that I don't know what house it comes from. That alone makes it worth it, especially since I never get these whiffs on any other day. 

Then Sunday comes around. And it really, really reminds me of this poem by Louis MacNeice.

Sunday Morning

Down the road someone is practising scales, 
The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails, 
Man's heart expands to tinker with his car 
For this is Sunday morning, Fate's great bazaar; 
Regard these means as ends, concentrate on this Now, 

And you may grow to music or drive beyond Hindhead anyhow, 
Take corners on two wheels until you go so fast 
That you can clutch a fringe or two of the windy past, 
That you can abstract this day and make it to the week of time 
A small eternity, a sonnet self-contained in rhyme. 

But listen, up the road, something gulps, the church spire 
Open its eight bells out, skulls' mouths which will not tire 
To tell how there is no music or movement which secures 
Escape from the weekday time. Which deadens and endures.

Seriously, these Saturday and Sunday mornings won't last forever. If the following Monday isn't already dreadful enough, then surely the passage of time to our deaths is! 

I love the line: "Regard these means as ends, concentrate on this Now,". Sure, we can do these great things to achieve something down the road, but what I think is more important is to enjoy the present and live in the moment. I could run intensely to train for a marathon, but I'm gonna continue to enjoy my morning runs.

Then comes the line: "A small eternity, a sonnet self-contained in rhyme." Just like a sonnet, the Sunday morning feels perfect and whole and like it could last forever, away from our life... Cue the song "Perfect Day" from Legally Blonde. Saturday and Sundays really do feel like this song sometimes. I've talked about the freshness of Saturday mornings with coffee in my In-N-Out mug writing in this blog. 

But then..

"how there is no music or movement which secures / Escape from the weekday time."

Oh god. No amount of morning runs, coffee, sleeping in, pancake breakfasts, reading in the sun, sitting in the grass at the park, or ANY other pleasant activity in which we live in the moment can save us from the 

"weekday time". That is, Monday and its depressing routine. Or wait. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and ALL of the shit we do during those days. Work, school, chores, meetings, and other mandatory things that are ultimately aging us and leading us until the day we die.

Then the final line: "Which deadens and endure". 

Time is slowly killing us, but will last forever and do the same to the next generation of lives way after we've died.

While this poem may sound grim, it's not entirely saying bad things. Basically, we can enjoy the Saturday and Sunday mornings. Living in the moment and enjoying life's pleasantries is good for our soul. The "Perfect Day" does exist, but it is not forever.... Cue the poem by Robert Frost: "Nothing Gold Can Stay". Just kidding. 

But really. We should actually live in the moment while we can. 

Grab a coffee, grab a book, and let's escape reality for a bit in the sun. Monday's a whole 24 hours away.

Unable to Sleep

I am writing this because, for whatever reason, I am unable to fall asleep. I blame it on the temperature in my room. It's the best worst time of year again, so that means drowsily sunny afternoons and stuffy nights. Isn't it so irritating when you have the ceiling fan on to the max and the windows wide open, but the room still remains hot because there isn't even the slightest draft outside to pull the cold air in? Believe me, it's cool outside, but sometimes the air just doesn't want to settle inside the room. More annoyingly, some nights it will, and it's one of the greatest feelings in the world as you're lying awake in bed. Then, the very next day, the temperature will be lower during the peak heat hours but hotter at night because there's no breeze. I was thinking idly about running a large tower fan pointed straight at my pillow all night, but it's way too noisy and wastes electricity.

Obviously, I have little to complain about right now. The temperature during the day has actually been quite mild for summer, which only leads me to believe that August will be hellish. I fuckin' hate August. Every year, without fail, it seems to have the absolute worst weather of the year, and for most people it's when the looming return of school begins to creep up. I know people complain about the winter months (especially January), but I love these months for the early darkness, and I never have sleepless nights in the winter. 

Writing this has not made me any more sleepy or ready to crash, so now I'm going to sit here uncomfortably in this chair until I prefer to lay in my bed, and then hopefully that satisfaction of not sitting straight up will put me to sleep. 

Welcome to Monkey Land

Last week I visited the brilliant San Diego Zoo, one of the many iconic landmarks of SD and California as a whole. As I walked through the pathways in the Lost Woods approaching Panda Ridge, I couldn't stop thinking about the poem on the AP Literature exam titled "London" by Manmohan Ghose. In all of its glory, I remembered some of the lines by heart from reading it religiously during the test.

Here it is:

London

Farewell, sweetest country; out of my heart, you roses,

Wayside roses, nodding, the slow traveller to keep.

Too long have I drowsed alone in the meadows deep,

Too long alone endured the silence Nature espouses.

Oh, the rush, the rapture of life! throngs, lights, houses,

This is London. I wake as a sentinel from sleep.

Stunned with the fresh thunder, the harsh delightful noises,

I move entranced on the thronging pavement. How sweet,

To eyes sated with green, the dusty brick-walled street!

And the lone spirit, of self so weary, how it rejoices

To be lost in others, bathed in the tones of human voices,

And feel hurried along the happy tread of feet.

And a sense of vast sympathy my heart almost crazes,

The warmth of kindred hearts in thousands beating with mine.

Each fresh face, each figure, my spirit drinks like wine,

Thousands endlessly passing. Violets, daisies,

What is your charm to the passionate charm of faces,

This ravishing reality, this earthliness divine?

O murmur of men more sweet than all the wood's caresses,

How sweet only to be an unknown leaf that sings

In the forest of life! Cease, Nature, thy whisperings.

Can I talk with leaves, or fall in love with breezes?

Beautiful boughs, your shade not a human pang appeases.

This is London. I lie, and twine in the roots of things.

Now I think I know why I couldn't stop thinking about it. 

I left the group I was with almost immediately after we arrived at the zoo, excited by my solitude and readiness to explore. Ghose mentions "Farewell, sweetest country;", similar to how I was escaping the quiet, lonely suburbs to be reinvigorated in the great city. Before you highlight any contradictions, I don't consider a zoo (no matter how great its replication is) to be synonymous with countryside or nature. 

In the first stanza of the poem, Ghose lyrically bashes the countryside with repetition, listing things he's done that he's disliked ("To long have I drowsed alone... / To long alone endured the silence"). Ironically, the stanza disapproves of the peacefulness of countryside—where many retreat to to escape the busy and stressful city-life. For the rural dweller, however, the grass appears greener in the city.

I especially like the line "Oh, the rush, the rapture of life! throngs, lights, houses..." because, like Ghose, I enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by crowds of people and "raptures of life" that I don't know at all. The feeling of being swallowed by individuals and families walking through the paths of the African Rocks is not something you can easily attain. Just like the occasional child atop a father’s shoulders for a better view...how cute: “Get on my shoulder so you can see.” Ghose personifies the pavement: "I move entranced on the thronging pavement" (referring to the pavement of London streets), as if it gains life, a surge of energy from the "happy tread of feet" of those walking upon it! Indeed, every aspect of the zoo seems to come alive at the flood of people moving through. 

Can this poem get any better? Of course it can. I kept walking alone, making my way up to the polar bears, until I remembered the line: "And the lone spirit, of self so weary, how it rejoices / To be lost in others, bathed in the tones of human voices". Right! I was doing exactly that, admiring the animals alone as I listened in and "bathed" in the family conversations and remarks. Oh, and even in silence, for there was nothing quite like leaning against the railing of the enclosure next to everyone as we stood quietly watching the elephants eat. Somehow, it felt good to be lost in the others voices as I wandered silently from animal to animal.

Walking from place to place, I get to see a new set of faces each step I take: "The warmth of kindred hearts in thousands beating with mine. / Each fresh face, each figure, my spirit drinks like wine, / Thousands endlessly passing."  just love the way Ghose describes the feeling of seeing a new face, because it really does reinvigorate your spirit to know that thousands of others are doing the same.

So I encourage you! Go to a new place with crowds and take it in, enjoy the sites, listen to the "murmur of men more sweet than all the wood's caresses", and light the fire in your life again. The place feels better when enjoyed by many.

After all.....

This is San Diego. I lie, and twine in the roots of things.

No Money Spent

    Today didn't go as planned. After parking in the nearly empty parking lot of the library (I guess I should've figured something wasn't right at this point, but it is a Saturday), I walked to the entrance of the library only to find that it was closed. I was more disappointed than I want to admit, but the library did say it was open online. I had no idea why it was closed. Alas, I headed back to the car without even getting a chance to look at the books with a sullen face. There wasn't anything I could do.

    But it was okay, since I had fun driving back home with the windows down. Instead of spending the day at the library, I took my notebook and paperback to the park to read in nature (which I also thoroughly enjoy as well). 

$$$ → ↓↓↓

    Well, anything happening in school is basically coming to a close as I get ready to graduate (thank god), so tomorrow for one of my last weekends in high school ever I wanted to head to the library the minute it opens. Why? There's a built-in discounted book store in the library where I can hopefully waste a couple bucks buying a few physical books. 

    Oh dear, I said a naughty word, quite a smutty word..."You may well shudder". In all seriousness, I recently bought a paperback copy of Lolita because I've been really invested into the book (yeah, yeah, snicker all you want and call me that.), and only now realized the genuine appeal of physical books. Does it still seem like a waste of money to me? Of course—you're literally paying for paper with ink, and from novels that are easily obtainable for free. Obviously that's not the point, though. The physical book is infinitely more efficient to comb through to look through for passages, and there's something charming about having geography to the text so to speak. Plus, it is satisfying to see your progress through a stack of slowly accumulating pages (for I am in fact a slow reader) rather than a mere percentage. For whatever reason, the book also smells absolutely amazing; I think I've developed an addiction to smelling the inside of the page every time I read. 

    But does this mean I'll stop reading on my computer or Kindle? Definitely not. I still like the fact that the Kindle is able to have any book I want instantly and give all the formatting options. For every other aspect of books, though, I think it's hard to disagree that physical books are just better.

    With that said, I say "hopefully waste" because I'm almost certain that the mini store won't have any of the books I'm looking for, but I guess I'll have to wait and see.

    

PaperQuest (pt. 2)

    Out of fear, I looked out the blurry glass of the front door for any signs of a person, but there wasn't anyone. I could not figure out what was causing my fear, but I knew it had to do with her. Later that afternoon I called Jason to meet up at the burger place in his area. He had a kin to seeing the best in people, and unfortunately it seemed like I always saw the worst in everyone. It didn't matter what scenario I was in. Walking through the halls of high school was fundamentally jostling between a room full of two-bit, two-faced things. Worse yet, the deplorable men around me tried to hide their "virility" behind masks and thus behaved outwardly horrendous (as do the women, of course). Or could it be that they may just be plain, bad people trying to reframe their debasement as a result of this "excess of desire"? Regardless, how could I care to be surrounded by people I didn't know, and even if I thought I did, still didn't? 

    Once somebody in my class tried to ask someone else what game they were playing, and in response the other says: "Do I know you?". At first I was offended, but then I questioned why the first kid would even bother. I was about to shrug it off, but something inside me was still annoyed at the second kid's impudence, so I said pretty loudly: "Does anyone even know you?". No, I did not intentionally try to sound like some white knight, nor was I defending the other kid. I simply didn't like his moronic, rude manner, and if I was anyone else I would've retaliated physically. Besides, what was this plump little idiot going to do if anyone punched him? If I was the other kid, I would've never bothered trying to find these people out, because in the end there's simply no point. Thus, my arm stands still.

    It wasn't just one person, either. No, it was in fact several people, so many that I'd go as far as to say that an unassuming person would probably make a rightfully educated guess that I hated everyone. Speaking for myself, I don't believe I have enough evidence to come to that conclusion yet, but at the same time that assumption is entirely inane... Nobody was safe from my silent judgement as I listened in on their ridiculous conversations. On one of my lasts days in hell, I overheard a few girls speaking loudly and with the most irritating intonation about the tritest, most non-funny thing (I can't even remember what it was), hoping in vain that something seriously bad—so bad that I can't even bring myself to write it—would happen to them to shut them up. What is it with girls and their inherent inability to be quiet? Now, reader, I know you may be quick to roll your eyes and think: "What a sociopathic, arrogant narcissist", but let me assure you that I am not the only one who feels this way. The difference is, however, that I don't dislike school for many of the same reasons. I was never made fun of, never bullied, and never had any extraneous issues in my life. Even with my relatively smooth living, I could never enjoy it.

    I believe part of my cynicism was in part due to where I went to school, too. Once I attended a theatre performances early in the eighth semester (about to be freed!) at another high school not far from my own, and instantly I knew their school to be better. The grass was greener, damn it. I was about to enter the enormous performing arts center. My hands held the metal of the door, but my eyes looked straight ahead to the indigo sky without stars. The light pollution wreathed the sky, making it impossible for the stars to shine their way through. Nevertheless, it was a beautiful campus. The paths were illuminated by the intermittent glow of the street light, surrounded by flourishing grass kissed with the sweet, brisk air of early Spring. I imagined myself sitting on the outskirts of campus indulging in a read before class. Better yet, I thought of a lonely walk around the baseball fields with a hand in my pocket, hearing the crunching of the granular dirt in the infield as my mind wandered aimlessly. The students from the school wearing their sunshine faces didn't help make me feel better either. A twinge of jealousy and longing spread throughout my mind that day. How I wished I could've had even a sliver of this environment. Something inside me knew it would have made me less cynical of the entire experience, but I brushed it off when I remembered how little time I had left.

    Indeed, it would be wrong to say that my judgment of people was probably clouded by my, admittedly awful, contentions—not everyone was purely bad, but then again you never knew... When I walked into the restaurant and saw Jason already sitting in the corner, I knew I had to tell him. Holes began to appear in the plush of the "comfort "of senior year, ones that I'd begged for to disrupt the concurrent gloominess of the fast approaching real world. This didn't enter my mind at the moment I met her, as groaning with anticipation and fear of what Jason would say I tottered through the tables towards his booth. Then, reaching him, I boldly sat down without letting on about anything that was bothering me with a heroic decision to tell him about my uncovering, despite my problem sitting in front of me—he seemed especially made of steel right now. 

    "While I was standing there, I got goosebumps just looking at her. All I know is I don't like her." I said.

    Jason looked at me incredulously. "What, you don't even know her. She could be normal for all you know." 

    I took a sip of my water and slammed it down on the table. "Maybe you're right," I said. "But I'm not going to let it go until I know for sure."

    He sat back in his seat and avoided my eyes, taking a bite of his burger. "What the hell do you mean?"

    "Honestly, I don't know yet. Don't worry about it." I gulped down the rest of my water. 

    

   

(This is a work of fiction)

A Funny Moment

Today was one of the few days that I've felt happy. It was a long day; I had a Chemistry test and a Track meet standing in front of a four-day weekend. During the last Track event of the evening, one of my teammates hilariously started the race with an unbelievably quick stride. It was so fast that I heard nearly every runner in the race (about 25 people) burst out into laughter at the absurdity. Mind you, we were running a 3200 meter race, so getting out at that pace is not ideal. Racing is supposed to be serious, and typically people don't talk or laugh in the first 10 seconds of the race, but since it was the end of the meet and since nobody really wanted to run it, our minds were definitely in a place to laugh. That was probably the only time I've witnessed this. I think it made it better that the race had so many runners. 

And yes, I was also laughing until the 200 meter mark, finding it difficult to get myself together and lock in. What a funny way to end the day.