What will you leave behind?
At only 21 years old, the impermanence of life doesn't often cross my mind. It takes a big moment, a life-changing one, to serve as a reminder that now does not mean the same thing as forever.
My grandfather passed away this weekend. With him living in Florida, I was far away from the situation. As a result, the reality of his declining health didn't quite hit me until I heard the news of his passing on Monday.
Now, thinking back on my Poppy, the only grandfather I've truly known due to the absence of my maternal grandfather for most of my life, I feel this great mixture of feelings. Sorrow for his loss, pride in his achievements, happiness at the beautiful life he led, plus something that is harder to put into words - the closest description being "cheated."
My grandfather lived a long and fruitful life. At 92, he saw the birth of six grandchildren and even two great-grandchildren (one of whom, my firecracker of a niece, was named after him). But in all the years I knew him, I still felt like there was so much more to know.
This morning I read a beautiful eulogy written by my dad for my Poppy's funeral. I offered to do what I could to enable its dissemination, copying it down into my computer so that it could be printed, saving it so that it would never become lost with the passing of time.
There are things about my Poppy that I know backwards and forwards. His sense of humor being the main one. His jokes became ingrained in my personal phrasebook. One of his oft-repeated quips, "my nose runs and my feet smell," has occurred to me multiple times in the past 24 hours.
But today, as I read through the eulogy and contemplated on the loss of such a compassionate, silly and wonderful man, what I kept thinking about was how much more I wish I'd known him.
There are so many questions that occur to you when it's too late to ask them. Questions about the past, about his past specifically. I wonder about his life, things that only he knew that he'll never be able to answer now that he's gone. I wish, at the very least, that I'd been able to tell him more how much I loved him. Living far away, it was hard not to feel detached from him for most of the year. But despite the distance, his impact was enormous. He's one of the few influential men in my life, and one of the main reasons that I believe (despite many experiences to the contrary) that there are good men in the world.
At this point, knowing that there's nothing more I can do but feel love for him and remember the beautiful things that my Poppy left for me, a broader question comes to me. What can I do to keep his memory alive? What can any of us do to keep our memory alive?
One day, we will all pass. Hopefully most of us in a peaceful state, unburdened by the knowledge that our loss will sadden those we love. But while we are all still here, we should charge ourselves with something more than just living.
We should do what we can to keep our memories alive. To share them with others and to let others share theirs with us. Never miss an opportunity to ask questions or give answers. Never hold back the stories that someone, somewhere would love to hear. Tell your loved ones exactly how you feel about them.
I don't plan to leave this world behind any time soon. But when I do, I hope someone will love me with enough of his or her heart to express feelings as affectionate as what my dad wrote for my Poppy.
All we really need in life is the love of others. More than fame, money, power, material goods. We thrive in life through the connections we make. My Poppy, even in the limited time I was able to spend with him, impacted me with his joy and his unflinching bravery. He lived a life that many can only dream to live - one of simple, unadulterated love. He loved his family, he loved his life. And for that, he was loved.
I can only hope that I will leave behind love as well.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
On VidCon: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
In 2011, I attended my first ever conference. A small YouTube fan/creator event held in the basement of a hotel in Century City - a little known gathering called VidCon. It was already a year old, and it was obvious that the event was already growing too big for its britches. Fans chased down creators like they were animal control pursuing rabid animals. I felt out of the loop because at the time I was only vaguely familiar with YouTube celebrity culture. But despite the craziness, there was still an aura of grassroots camaraderie, and that's what kept me coming back.
Now, in 2014, VidCon is more a convention than ever. With upwards of 17,000 attendees (a number I heard thrown around at VidCon and have seen in subsequent reports), what used to feel like a community event has ballooned into something much harder to define.
It seems that for those among us who have been at VidCon in one or more of the four years past, this fifth version of the Con we know and love has been a bit jarring, and I'd like to address that - along with a few ideas I have moving forward.
1. Keeping Fandom in Check
At my first VidCon, I'd only subscribed to a few channels. Since I knew so few creators at the event, I had an agenda: to meet whomever I could out of the six or so folks whom I watched regularly. In 2011, bumping into a popular YouTuber at VidCon was not unheard of. Nowadays, the same creator I met casually walking around the floor is showing up in Coca Cola commercials. YouTube stardom has grown farther than we could've imagined three or four years ago. That's thanks to us (the subscribers), but also a concern for us as we move forward.
The very essence of YouTube's greatness is as a community. Creators put up content that is engaging and personal, viewers absorb that content and connect with the creators - feeling like friends by proxy through this magical thing we call the Internet. But because the scale of YouTube has grown so exponentially, there's no feasible way to maintain the small, personal aspect of that community. Meet-ups are excellent for a quick fix, but only for those who are willing to go through the trials of standing in line for six hours. Most of us don't function well without access to the outside world for a quarter of the day, which causes a disconnect.
But to my mind, there is a solution: "Let it go." To take a now trite phrase from a beloved Disney animated film, it's time we all put things in perspective. The viewers without the patience for hours of queuing don't have to lament over the lost opportunity of meeting the more popular YouTubers, because that's not what VidCon is about anyway. More than a fan convention, this is a community event. A chance to meet creators (new, old, famous, not famous), to discover things about the craft of video production and to interact with like-minded individuals. If we find ourselves alienated by the fandoms, we needn't come face-to-face with them. VidCon is now a dichotomy - split between people who care about brushing elbows with stars and people who could care less about stardom - and we can choose which side we'd rather be on, and choose to be content with our decision.
2. Size Matters
My first VidCon had around 2,500 attendees. Compared to this year, that number is absolutely tiny. At the time it still felt huge, and even in retrospect it's an impressive number. However, it makes 17,000 seem absolutely unfathomable. That is, until you're standing outside a convention center waiting to enter a building, standing in a line of thousands of other people just as frustrated as you. Then the number feels all too real.
VidCon has grown every year and will, no doubt, continue to grow. What I hope will be addressed after this year is something that was discussed in hushed tones all around the event this year: the lack of enough options for attendees. With only two or three big panels or Q&As happening at a given time during the conference, attendees found themselves crammed into too-small rooms with too-many people (or, even worse, being shut out). This, in addition to incredibly long meet-up lines, led to a lot of disappointment for people who'd paid a great deal of money to be at this event. Rooms filled to capacity, sometimes with people who didn't even care to be in a particular panel, but who were squatting in a given room so that they could capture a good seat for the next panel on the docket. The system was unfair and unbalanced, forcing people to decide between going to all the events they'd like to or choosing to forego some in lieu of others.
If VidCon is to continue to grow in size, there will have to be more opportunities for engagement to sustain that growth. Without enough space to go around, the event seems overcrowded and stifling. And while every Con aspires to be something akin to Comic-Con in terms of buzz and popularity, is there anyone who actually enjoys the idea of being trapped in rooms with too many people, or weaving through crowds of unmoving human bodies just to get on an escalator? I think not.
3. Re-Introduce Community Building
One of my favorite panels at VidCon this year was about communities on YouTube. Some of the top creators on the platform talked about the groups of people who watch their videos, how they've channeled their influence into something they perceive as being greater than themselves.
In the first few years of VidCon, that's what the convention was all about: creators and fans convening, and essentially blurring the divide between fan and idol.
While it may be impossible at this point to integrate more famed YouTubers into the broader community, attendees of events like VidCon should make a conscious effort to step outside their roles as fans and into the space in between creator and audience. Community is the bringing together of perceived leaders and followers, into a safe space where they feel connected and engaged. Hierarchies don't need to exist in a community. YouTube has always been best when the hierarchies are removed in exchange for friendship.
I've made some of my closest friends at VidCon, and I truly believe that this is one of the most perfect places to meet like-minded people with whom community is a given. So why not pursue that? Is it more important to spend one minute talking to a "famous" YouTuber you may never see again? Or form a relationship with someone who could become your best friend for a lifetime?
4. The Golden Rule
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
This year, I stayed away from any and all drama that took place at VidCon, but being privy to the goings-on around the conference via social media, I was astonished at the catty and insensitive choices being made by people I wanted to respect.
As I see it, the YouTube community is made up of primarily awesome people. We are society's nerds and outcasts, the weirdos who don't necessarily fit into the mainstream, so we band together to find kinship with the likeminded. So, by this definition, shouldn't we unsubscribe ourselves to the petty expectations of an inherently selfish society?
Creators tweeted about being stalked to their hotel rooms, attendees were pushed out of signing lines by other attendees, security officers were being treated rudely every time they denied anyone anything.
If we all just had an ounce more respect for each other, then we wouldn't do anything to our fellow man that we wouldn't want done to us. Sure, there will always be the lowest common denominator of people who will make dumb choices like these, but as smart people (and you have to at least be somewhat technologically savvy to get involved in the YouTube community) we have an obligation to be more than that.
VidCon is first and foremost an event for the people. YouTube creators, unlike the special guests of most other conferences in the world, are not celebrities first. They are ordinary people first. And as subscribers (and people), we owe it to ourselves to respect not only them, but us. We are more than just fans, we are part of something huge. We are the backbone of a community that is growing and becoming more and more powerful as the years go on and our numbers grow.
VidCon has begun to draw big names and big sponsorships because of our enthusiasm. With the right frame of mind, we could all channel that strength into something good.
For nerdfighters, a more recognizable message might be that our responsibility at VidCon is to "decrease world suck." We represent something bigger than an individual conference/convention/what have you. We are a community. And we owe it to the greater community to represent YouTube fans in the proper light: as a respectful, kind, thoughtful and engaged group of cooperative individuals.
For me, that is what VidCon is. And at future VidCons, I hope that message becomes more evident.
For those who are interested, my YouTube channel - which I haven't updated in quite a while, but have plans to continue creating for - is thesongsofspring. Thank you for reading.
Now, in 2014, VidCon is more a convention than ever. With upwards of 17,000 attendees (a number I heard thrown around at VidCon and have seen in subsequent reports), what used to feel like a community event has ballooned into something much harder to define.
It seems that for those among us who have been at VidCon in one or more of the four years past, this fifth version of the Con we know and love has been a bit jarring, and I'd like to address that - along with a few ideas I have moving forward.
1. Keeping Fandom in Check
At my first VidCon, I'd only subscribed to a few channels. Since I knew so few creators at the event, I had an agenda: to meet whomever I could out of the six or so folks whom I watched regularly. In 2011, bumping into a popular YouTuber at VidCon was not unheard of. Nowadays, the same creator I met casually walking around the floor is showing up in Coca Cola commercials. YouTube stardom has grown farther than we could've imagined three or four years ago. That's thanks to us (the subscribers), but also a concern for us as we move forward.
The very essence of YouTube's greatness is as a community. Creators put up content that is engaging and personal, viewers absorb that content and connect with the creators - feeling like friends by proxy through this magical thing we call the Internet. But because the scale of YouTube has grown so exponentially, there's no feasible way to maintain the small, personal aspect of that community. Meet-ups are excellent for a quick fix, but only for those who are willing to go through the trials of standing in line for six hours. Most of us don't function well without access to the outside world for a quarter of the day, which causes a disconnect.
But to my mind, there is a solution: "Let it go." To take a now trite phrase from a beloved Disney animated film, it's time we all put things in perspective. The viewers without the patience for hours of queuing don't have to lament over the lost opportunity of meeting the more popular YouTubers, because that's not what VidCon is about anyway. More than a fan convention, this is a community event. A chance to meet creators (new, old, famous, not famous), to discover things about the craft of video production and to interact with like-minded individuals. If we find ourselves alienated by the fandoms, we needn't come face-to-face with them. VidCon is now a dichotomy - split between people who care about brushing elbows with stars and people who could care less about stardom - and we can choose which side we'd rather be on, and choose to be content with our decision.
2. Size Matters
My first VidCon had around 2,500 attendees. Compared to this year, that number is absolutely tiny. At the time it still felt huge, and even in retrospect it's an impressive number. However, it makes 17,000 seem absolutely unfathomable. That is, until you're standing outside a convention center waiting to enter a building, standing in a line of thousands of other people just as frustrated as you. Then the number feels all too real.
VidCon has grown every year and will, no doubt, continue to grow. What I hope will be addressed after this year is something that was discussed in hushed tones all around the event this year: the lack of enough options for attendees. With only two or three big panels or Q&As happening at a given time during the conference, attendees found themselves crammed into too-small rooms with too-many people (or, even worse, being shut out). This, in addition to incredibly long meet-up lines, led to a lot of disappointment for people who'd paid a great deal of money to be at this event. Rooms filled to capacity, sometimes with people who didn't even care to be in a particular panel, but who were squatting in a given room so that they could capture a good seat for the next panel on the docket. The system was unfair and unbalanced, forcing people to decide between going to all the events they'd like to or choosing to forego some in lieu of others.
If VidCon is to continue to grow in size, there will have to be more opportunities for engagement to sustain that growth. Without enough space to go around, the event seems overcrowded and stifling. And while every Con aspires to be something akin to Comic-Con in terms of buzz and popularity, is there anyone who actually enjoys the idea of being trapped in rooms with too many people, or weaving through crowds of unmoving human bodies just to get on an escalator? I think not.
3. Re-Introduce Community Building
One of my favorite panels at VidCon this year was about communities on YouTube. Some of the top creators on the platform talked about the groups of people who watch their videos, how they've channeled their influence into something they perceive as being greater than themselves.
In the first few years of VidCon, that's what the convention was all about: creators and fans convening, and essentially blurring the divide between fan and idol.
While it may be impossible at this point to integrate more famed YouTubers into the broader community, attendees of events like VidCon should make a conscious effort to step outside their roles as fans and into the space in between creator and audience. Community is the bringing together of perceived leaders and followers, into a safe space where they feel connected and engaged. Hierarchies don't need to exist in a community. YouTube has always been best when the hierarchies are removed in exchange for friendship.
I've made some of my closest friends at VidCon, and I truly believe that this is one of the most perfect places to meet like-minded people with whom community is a given. So why not pursue that? Is it more important to spend one minute talking to a "famous" YouTuber you may never see again? Or form a relationship with someone who could become your best friend for a lifetime?
4. The Golden Rule
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
This year, I stayed away from any and all drama that took place at VidCon, but being privy to the goings-on around the conference via social media, I was astonished at the catty and insensitive choices being made by people I wanted to respect.
As I see it, the YouTube community is made up of primarily awesome people. We are society's nerds and outcasts, the weirdos who don't necessarily fit into the mainstream, so we band together to find kinship with the likeminded. So, by this definition, shouldn't we unsubscribe ourselves to the petty expectations of an inherently selfish society?
Creators tweeted about being stalked to their hotel rooms, attendees were pushed out of signing lines by other attendees, security officers were being treated rudely every time they denied anyone anything.
If we all just had an ounce more respect for each other, then we wouldn't do anything to our fellow man that we wouldn't want done to us. Sure, there will always be the lowest common denominator of people who will make dumb choices like these, but as smart people (and you have to at least be somewhat technologically savvy to get involved in the YouTube community) we have an obligation to be more than that.
VidCon is first and foremost an event for the people. YouTube creators, unlike the special guests of most other conferences in the world, are not celebrities first. They are ordinary people first. And as subscribers (and people), we owe it to ourselves to respect not only them, but us. We are more than just fans, we are part of something huge. We are the backbone of a community that is growing and becoming more and more powerful as the years go on and our numbers grow.
VidCon has begun to draw big names and big sponsorships because of our enthusiasm. With the right frame of mind, we could all channel that strength into something good.
For nerdfighters, a more recognizable message might be that our responsibility at VidCon is to "decrease world suck." We represent something bigger than an individual conference/convention/what have you. We are a community. And we owe it to the greater community to represent YouTube fans in the proper light: as a respectful, kind, thoughtful and engaged group of cooperative individuals.
For me, that is what VidCon is. And at future VidCons, I hope that message becomes more evident.
For those who are interested, my YouTube channel - which I haven't updated in quite a while, but have plans to continue creating for - is thesongsofspring. Thank you for reading.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Looking on
Wanted: Someone to kick my butt every time I make a promise that I don't follow through on.
In February, I made a promise that I would keep up my blog, The Songs of Spring, by writing at least weekly entries. And if I missed a week here or there, I'd make up for it the following week.
Well, my last entry was at the end of March, and it seems that since then I haven't been very productive in keeping up this space. I have excuses, but it would be silly to bore you with them, so I won't. In this case, an apology is a waste of time. What isn't a waste of time is picking up where I left off, which is just writing when I need to - when it makes sense. So, right now. At this very moment.
The last couple of days have been very difficult, and they've made me think a lot about what is important in life.
Everyone who is alive has loved. If you're lucky, love is something you're born into. If you're not, it's something you must struggle to find in the most trying of situations.
I was lucky to be one of the former.
Even in the most difficult times in my life, I've known that love was somewhere to be found. And it made the tough things just a little bit more manageable.
But love also has its own troubles - as often as stories will tell us that those we love live on in our hearts even when they aren't of this Earth anymore, no one will tell you that life after loss is easy. The love that we feel for one another makes letting go that much more difficult.
I don't have to let go of anything right now, and when that occurs to me, I'm incredibly thankful. It's a comfort to know that at this very moment there is stability, that what (or rather whom) I know and love will continue to live, breathe and feel.
One day, though, and who knows how many days from now that one day will be, you and I and everyone we know will have to face the same thing: that emptiness of letting go of something beloved.
It will start with a shudder, and a feeling of confusion. Then it will transition into emptiness, of deprivation and even deeper confusion. A complete envelopment in the tragedy of the world. Why do we live to be tortured like this? But in time, those questions give way to new ones - What's next? What's past? How can I reconcile the two and make something impossible and painful into something beautiful? If we're wise, we find the answer. And we move on.
I guess what I'm trying to do right now is find the answer to that final question before I go through all the prior traumas. It is my goal to come out the other side of life's troubles as a stronger person.
I can't make sense of where I am in life right now, but I want to. I've been busy, been shying away from breaching this huge subject. It frightened me. My writing has suffered, my clarity of mind has dwindled.
So next time I break my promise, someone, I beseech you, kick me to get involved with this blog again. This is one of the only ways I've been able to find clarity in my life, in myself and in my future. And right now, that's what I need.
In February, I made a promise that I would keep up my blog, The Songs of Spring, by writing at least weekly entries. And if I missed a week here or there, I'd make up for it the following week.
Well, my last entry was at the end of March, and it seems that since then I haven't been very productive in keeping up this space. I have excuses, but it would be silly to bore you with them, so I won't. In this case, an apology is a waste of time. What isn't a waste of time is picking up where I left off, which is just writing when I need to - when it makes sense. So, right now. At this very moment.
The last couple of days have been very difficult, and they've made me think a lot about what is important in life.
Everyone who is alive has loved. If you're lucky, love is something you're born into. If you're not, it's something you must struggle to find in the most trying of situations.
I was lucky to be one of the former.
Even in the most difficult times in my life, I've known that love was somewhere to be found. And it made the tough things just a little bit more manageable.
But love also has its own troubles - as often as stories will tell us that those we love live on in our hearts even when they aren't of this Earth anymore, no one will tell you that life after loss is easy. The love that we feel for one another makes letting go that much more difficult.
I don't have to let go of anything right now, and when that occurs to me, I'm incredibly thankful. It's a comfort to know that at this very moment there is stability, that what (or rather whom) I know and love will continue to live, breathe and feel.
One day, though, and who knows how many days from now that one day will be, you and I and everyone we know will have to face the same thing: that emptiness of letting go of something beloved.
It will start with a shudder, and a feeling of confusion. Then it will transition into emptiness, of deprivation and even deeper confusion. A complete envelopment in the tragedy of the world. Why do we live to be tortured like this? But in time, those questions give way to new ones - What's next? What's past? How can I reconcile the two and make something impossible and painful into something beautiful? If we're wise, we find the answer. And we move on.
I guess what I'm trying to do right now is find the answer to that final question before I go through all the prior traumas. It is my goal to come out the other side of life's troubles as a stronger person.
I can't make sense of where I am in life right now, but I want to. I've been busy, been shying away from breaching this huge subject. It frightened me. My writing has suffered, my clarity of mind has dwindled.
So next time I break my promise, someone, I beseech you, kick me to get involved with this blog again. This is one of the only ways I've been able to find clarity in my life, in myself and in my future. And right now, that's what I need.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Black and white memories
The lights were bright. They blinded me, but not enough to erase the knowledge that I was standing in front of a crowd of people, performing a tap routine I barely knew. Under the harsh lighting, I stood surrounded by several other girls. We all dressed in matching androgynous outfits. White shirts, ties, suspenders, black pants and tap shoes with our hair pulled back into pony tails. I'd stolen the two former items from my father and, as a result, I looked like a pre-teen boy just entering puberty.
I don't often enjoy remembering this event. Perhaps it was exhilarating at the time, but as an unlikely dancer and a feminine dresser, it's a blunder of my youth that I prefer not to recollect.
Today, out of the blue, my best friend (and fellow tapper) texted me about the tap dancing debacle. "Hey! Remember when I bribed you with pbj sandwiches to do that tap performance with me in high school? :)" It's a thought that rarely occurs to me on its own, but with a little push - all the memories burst through my mind like they occurred last week.
Occasionally I feel like I'm in my own self-inflicted version of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. What I choose to commit to memory is entirely unpredictable and gets slowly more corrupted as the years go on. Not because I've gone through any targeted memory erasure procedure, that stuff is solely for the movies and even if I could get lobotomized, I don't think I would go for it.
Like everyone, I have selective memory.
Many of my experiences in life are clouded by perspective. I can't seem to get away from my emotional experiences. They take over the past and therefore inhabit the present, coloring each and every memory with an association. Happiness, sadness, loneliness, pride, embarrassment.
I try to let go of the more negative emotions - pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind and never willingly bringing them back to the front. Instead, all the happiest memories stick in my thoughts, and sometimes that makes the sad things even sadder.
When I've quarreled with a friend, a loved one or even a complete stranger, it's not the actual spark of unhappiness that keeps me dwelling. It's the loss of life's homeostasis. If anything, I'm one to forget the petty issues. After a while of being angry, I forget why I was angry and I go back to feeling the way I always do.
My problem is that my selective memory has the ability to make me sad, but often because it remembers so much of the good and then associates those things with the bad.
I lost my mom when I was a teen and I still haven't fully accepted that fact. Letting go of someone so important is like having someone scrape out a part of your heart with a scalpel and never being able to salvage it again. You don't feel whole anymore.
But the loneliness wouldn't be there if there hadn't been so much positive. My mom played games with me, made dinner for me, comforted me. She loved me. I push the negative memories away and latch onto the positive ones, but that makes the loss even worse.
All relationships are two-fold, though. Of course, I'll never see my relationship with my mom in a bad light - even though there were moments I could've done without. But in the case of non-familial relationships, sometimes it feels like targeted memory erasure is a worthy path.
Instead of erasing all the negative thoughts, as we do naturally (thus creating a resulting longing effect), would it instead be helpful to push away the positives?
Have you ever had a best friend who wronged you terribly? Or maybe someone whom you just grew apart from?
Years down the road you become nostalgic and start wondering what that person is up to. You add them as a friend on Facebook, maybe you even try to rekindle the friendship by meeting up again. But there's nothing there, and inside your heart you knew there wouldn't be.
That friend left for a reason. They exited your life story because they weren't meant to be there. One of my favorite quotes comes from the author John Steinbeck in correspondence with his son on the subject of love: "Nothing good gets away."
Though the good memories may have you hopeful for a repetition of the past, that doesn't mean repetition is possible. People change and grow and become totally unique - you could know someone for years and after a brief separation find out their character is completely different.
It's also quite likely that you've changed and that might make the experiences you had in the past completely inimitable.
Of course this isn't universally true, and it isn't to say that we should let go of everything that isn't immediately surrounding us. In this technological age, that's virtually impossible; we're bound to become increasingly nostalgic, keeping up to date with the goings-on of people we haven't seen even for a decade's time.
What's important, though, is not to let those memories - good or bad - dictate how we feel now. The longer we live in the past, the less time we have in the present and future.
The reason I forgot about the tap dancing incident was because it was an awkward memory that brought up uncomfortable feelings for me. Looking back, I am embarrassed by how I looked that day, unconfident in my dancing. I lost my enthusiasm for performing for a variety of reasons, part of which I attribute to tap dancing in public and feeling worse for it. The memory of spending time with my best friend practicing the routine, however, was good. It was only the emotional association that soured it.
Looking back, I realize that all experiences have dual sides. When I perceive my past as being full of mindless bliss, I'm fooling myself. No experience is completely free of turmoil. But just the same, when I remember only the bad of a situation - I'm missing out on the happy moments during that time.
Knowing that I must ground my happiness in awareness of reality is part of moving forward and no longer thinking about the past in such black and white terms. In the same way, this knowledge makes it possible to ground sadness in reality and move past that as well. Romanticizing in either direction isn't healthy.
Black and white is what keeps us chained to what doesn't matter anymore. But by bringing some color into the picture, perhaps that unintentional target memory erasure won't be so necessary anymore. It is possible to understand the depths of our experiences, but only by looking at them with a discerning eye.
We all have eyes, we just have to learn to use them properly.
I don't often enjoy remembering this event. Perhaps it was exhilarating at the time, but as an unlikely dancer and a feminine dresser, it's a blunder of my youth that I prefer not to recollect.
Today, out of the blue, my best friend (and fellow tapper) texted me about the tap dancing debacle. "Hey! Remember when I bribed you with pbj sandwiches to do that tap performance with me in high school? :)" It's a thought that rarely occurs to me on its own, but with a little push - all the memories burst through my mind like they occurred last week.
Occasionally I feel like I'm in my own self-inflicted version of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. What I choose to commit to memory is entirely unpredictable and gets slowly more corrupted as the years go on. Not because I've gone through any targeted memory erasure procedure, that stuff is solely for the movies and even if I could get lobotomized, I don't think I would go for it.
Like everyone, I have selective memory.
Many of my experiences in life are clouded by perspective. I can't seem to get away from my emotional experiences. They take over the past and therefore inhabit the present, coloring each and every memory with an association. Happiness, sadness, loneliness, pride, embarrassment.
I try to let go of the more negative emotions - pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind and never willingly bringing them back to the front. Instead, all the happiest memories stick in my thoughts, and sometimes that makes the sad things even sadder.
When I've quarreled with a friend, a loved one or even a complete stranger, it's not the actual spark of unhappiness that keeps me dwelling. It's the loss of life's homeostasis. If anything, I'm one to forget the petty issues. After a while of being angry, I forget why I was angry and I go back to feeling the way I always do.
My problem is that my selective memory has the ability to make me sad, but often because it remembers so much of the good and then associates those things with the bad.
I lost my mom when I was a teen and I still haven't fully accepted that fact. Letting go of someone so important is like having someone scrape out a part of your heart with a scalpel and never being able to salvage it again. You don't feel whole anymore.
But the loneliness wouldn't be there if there hadn't been so much positive. My mom played games with me, made dinner for me, comforted me. She loved me. I push the negative memories away and latch onto the positive ones, but that makes the loss even worse.
All relationships are two-fold, though. Of course, I'll never see my relationship with my mom in a bad light - even though there were moments I could've done without. But in the case of non-familial relationships, sometimes it feels like targeted memory erasure is a worthy path.
Instead of erasing all the negative thoughts, as we do naturally (thus creating a resulting longing effect), would it instead be helpful to push away the positives?
Have you ever had a best friend who wronged you terribly? Or maybe someone whom you just grew apart from?
Years down the road you become nostalgic and start wondering what that person is up to. You add them as a friend on Facebook, maybe you even try to rekindle the friendship by meeting up again. But there's nothing there, and inside your heart you knew there wouldn't be.
That friend left for a reason. They exited your life story because they weren't meant to be there. One of my favorite quotes comes from the author John Steinbeck in correspondence with his son on the subject of love: "Nothing good gets away."
Though the good memories may have you hopeful for a repetition of the past, that doesn't mean repetition is possible. People change and grow and become totally unique - you could know someone for years and after a brief separation find out their character is completely different.
It's also quite likely that you've changed and that might make the experiences you had in the past completely inimitable.
Of course this isn't universally true, and it isn't to say that we should let go of everything that isn't immediately surrounding us. In this technological age, that's virtually impossible; we're bound to become increasingly nostalgic, keeping up to date with the goings-on of people we haven't seen even for a decade's time.
What's important, though, is not to let those memories - good or bad - dictate how we feel now. The longer we live in the past, the less time we have in the present and future.
The reason I forgot about the tap dancing incident was because it was an awkward memory that brought up uncomfortable feelings for me. Looking back, I am embarrassed by how I looked that day, unconfident in my dancing. I lost my enthusiasm for performing for a variety of reasons, part of which I attribute to tap dancing in public and feeling worse for it. The memory of spending time with my best friend practicing the routine, however, was good. It was only the emotional association that soured it.
Looking back, I realize that all experiences have dual sides. When I perceive my past as being full of mindless bliss, I'm fooling myself. No experience is completely free of turmoil. But just the same, when I remember only the bad of a situation - I'm missing out on the happy moments during that time.
Knowing that I must ground my happiness in awareness of reality is part of moving forward and no longer thinking about the past in such black and white terms. In the same way, this knowledge makes it possible to ground sadness in reality and move past that as well. Romanticizing in either direction isn't healthy.
Black and white is what keeps us chained to what doesn't matter anymore. But by bringing some color into the picture, perhaps that unintentional target memory erasure won't be so necessary anymore. It is possible to understand the depths of our experiences, but only by looking at them with a discerning eye.
We all have eyes, we just have to learn to use them properly.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
A new adventure begins...
I used to write a blog entry every single day. To some this might be old news. A lot of people I know watched me compose daily essays for The Songs of Spring and perhaps got so used to it that it lost its luster of ingenuity.
For me, it feels like 2012 to early 2013, the years that I spent blogging every day of my life, were just a dream. A figment of my imagination, perhaps. I was such a different person in those days. Not only because I was younger and my life was quite different, but because I was committed to the daily task of practicing my art. I felt really confident in writing. Even composing these sentences now is scaring me - I don't necessarily feel I have the same skill that I did a year and a half ago.
Today, it occurred to me that it's been a month since I last wrote on this blog. Breaking out of the daily habit has made me a slightly lazier writer. After thinking and working hard every single day for a year, I felt I deserved a break. But that break turned into commitment-phobia. I stopped wanting to write because I was worried I'd get back into those old habits. Who wants to beat a dead horse? This blog, after over 365 entries, felt like a dead horse.
But lately I've had some lovely people remind me why it was I started blogging in the first place:
It made me feel good.
That's why we do anything, isn't it? To create happiness in our lives. Indirectly, sometimes. Other times we take on new experiences just because they bring us joy.
Unfortunately, I would say that blogging daily was, on most days, not a happy experience. It was a stress-inducing commitment that put me under undue mental duress. I didn't want to feel compelled to be thoughtful every evening, but I was forced to. Sometimes I got in a post at the very last minute of the day. Other times I'd post it in the wee hours of the morning and still consider it the previous day's entry. It wasn't so much about getting something out of The Songs of Spring, it was about finishing a goal.
I was lucky in that I did learn something from it - I learned how to share my feelings and let go of the inhibitions that I'd had previously. I learned how to write well and not lose my enthusiasm for constructing worthy narratives. Though I was creating essays each day, writing a truly great entry never became any less exciting. So it made me indirectly happy.
Now what is this all leading up to, you might ask.
I would say nothing, but that's a lie.
Because this is a special blog entry.
It didn't have a meaning initially. I definitely came in thinking I just wanted to write something, anything. It didn't matter what that something was. But after sitting here and tapping out a few paragraphs, I've made a decision.
I'm returning to The Songs of Spring. Not in the same way I did in January of 2012, but in a new way. Instead of writing far too much content, or providing it so sporadically that it loses its way, I'm going to be a regular contributor to my own blog.
From now on, there will be at least weekly entries in The Songs of Spring. And if I forget, then there will be at least two entries the following week. And so on and so forth. From February 27, 2014 to February 27, 2015, I will write at least 52 blogs.
This space exists and it deserves to be used. And once I've gotten back into the groove, perhaps there will be things to say again, and I will feel comfortable at the helm of this ship of words once more.
I hope you'll come along for the ride.
For me, it feels like 2012 to early 2013, the years that I spent blogging every day of my life, were just a dream. A figment of my imagination, perhaps. I was such a different person in those days. Not only because I was younger and my life was quite different, but because I was committed to the daily task of practicing my art. I felt really confident in writing. Even composing these sentences now is scaring me - I don't necessarily feel I have the same skill that I did a year and a half ago.
Today, it occurred to me that it's been a month since I last wrote on this blog. Breaking out of the daily habit has made me a slightly lazier writer. After thinking and working hard every single day for a year, I felt I deserved a break. But that break turned into commitment-phobia. I stopped wanting to write because I was worried I'd get back into those old habits. Who wants to beat a dead horse? This blog, after over 365 entries, felt like a dead horse.
But lately I've had some lovely people remind me why it was I started blogging in the first place:
It made me feel good.
That's why we do anything, isn't it? To create happiness in our lives. Indirectly, sometimes. Other times we take on new experiences just because they bring us joy.
Unfortunately, I would say that blogging daily was, on most days, not a happy experience. It was a stress-inducing commitment that put me under undue mental duress. I didn't want to feel compelled to be thoughtful every evening, but I was forced to. Sometimes I got in a post at the very last minute of the day. Other times I'd post it in the wee hours of the morning and still consider it the previous day's entry. It wasn't so much about getting something out of The Songs of Spring, it was about finishing a goal.
I was lucky in that I did learn something from it - I learned how to share my feelings and let go of the inhibitions that I'd had previously. I learned how to write well and not lose my enthusiasm for constructing worthy narratives. Though I was creating essays each day, writing a truly great entry never became any less exciting. So it made me indirectly happy.
Now what is this all leading up to, you might ask.
I would say nothing, but that's a lie.
Because this is a special blog entry.
It didn't have a meaning initially. I definitely came in thinking I just wanted to write something, anything. It didn't matter what that something was. But after sitting here and tapping out a few paragraphs, I've made a decision.
I'm returning to The Songs of Spring. Not in the same way I did in January of 2012, but in a new way. Instead of writing far too much content, or providing it so sporadically that it loses its way, I'm going to be a regular contributor to my own blog.
From now on, there will be at least weekly entries in The Songs of Spring. And if I forget, then there will be at least two entries the following week. And so on and so forth. From February 27, 2014 to February 27, 2015, I will write at least 52 blogs.
This space exists and it deserves to be used. And once I've gotten back into the groove, perhaps there will be things to say again, and I will feel comfortable at the helm of this ship of words once more.
I hope you'll come along for the ride.
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