No Main Topic 002: On Birthdays & A Shift In Musical Preference.

It's a week out since my birthday. First and foremost, once more let me thank everyone who wished me well via Facebook, Twitter, text message, webcam, the phone and in person. Your words, hugs and smiles (and age jokes) through all of these means of communication are much appreciated. If it wasn't obvious from the content of several recent posts, I haven't really felt like myself for the past few weeks -- and it's not because I'm getting older. I guess I'm feeling the effects of some internal seismic activity -- tectonic plates moving around in my mind and causing some cracks on the surface. I've told myself that this is actually A Good Thing, that letting these feelings emerge is actually healthy. This is still unfamiliar territory; I'm used to bottling up and locking everything down until I become a pressure cooker.

Like previous birthdays, I feel no different. I suppose my metabolism has slowed a little, but I've been trying to improve my lifestyle with a pescatarian diet and a significant increase in exercise (details on this in a few days). I may not feel older, but I know things are going to start acting differently the older I get, so I need to make that health investment now. Consider it a preemptive strike against -- well, against whatever it is that afflicts people in their 30s. (It truly pains me to write that last sentence.)

One thing that's definitely changed throughout the years (and has been more pronounced in the past two or three) is the kind of music I listen to. I'm way past the MTV/VH1/BET demographic; I don't even know what channels they're on. Nowadays you could show me a Billboard 200 chart and while I'd most likely have a working knowledge of the majority of artists on it, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you how their songs go ... unless it had been remixed by a DJ specializing in dubstep, glitch, electro or nu-disco. It's strange, because while I do not consider myself an avid listener of "radio" music anymore, I visit a staggering number of music blogs and immerse myself in the bleeding edge of emerging electronic dance- and club-oriented sub-genres that push the pop envelope and, in essence, predict how music will sound a few months down the line.

[via]

I know, it's a strange juxtaposition. I suppose it's because I hate how similar everything sounds on the radio now, and I'm looking for something original. Or at least original before it gets fully co-opted by the music industry juggernaut. It's like Indiana Jones sprinting frantically down the tunnel, trying to outpace the giant boulder. Fortunately, more and more creative ways to make good music are available, as is the technology to spread it, and I am lucky enough to be able to hear and appreciate the results. They make my ears very happy, and do other important things for me -- I even wrote some haiku about it.

If anyone would like to listen to what's currently making my world go 'round, let me know. I'd love to make you a compilation, either on physical CD or mp3 playlist.

Thirty-Four.

So here are a few select quotes on age, and my thoughts on them.

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
- Anais Nin

The term arrested development seems to come up more frequently for me. I feel fulfilled and grown in certain areas, yet alarmingly stunted in others. Most of this, I think, stems from my inability to adequately express my feelings verbally to the most important people in my life. Which has lead to situations where I've indeed acted childish, instead of as someone who can reason things out in a rational manner. You know, like an adult. Don't get me wrong ... my self-perception is positive overall, but I have a lot to work on.

People like you and I, though mortal of course like everyone else, do not grow old no matter how long we live ... [We] never cease to stand like curious children before the great mystery into which we were born.
- Albert Einstein (in a letter to Otto Juliusburger)

There is a difference between childish and childlike. One of the things I pride myself on is that although I consider myself grown-up, I've kept my childlike sense of wonder mostly intact. I still surprise myself by marvelling at the little things in life, and being astounded by the sheer size of the world. I can only hope that this sense of wonder stays with me.

Those who love deeply never grow old; they may die of old age, but they die young.
- Sir Arthur Pinero

Age does not protect you from love, but love to some extent protects you from age.
- Jeanne Moreau

This I wholeheartedly believe in 300%. Love is easy and love is complicated, but love is essential to a fulfilling life. There's no way around it. The trick is learning how to love right.

Live your life and forget your age.
- Norman Vincent Peale

Such a simple quote, but it packs enough wisdom to last me forever.

[via]

Happy Birthday to me.

Revisitation.

As an adult, I have often known that peculiar legacy time brings to the traveler: the longing to seek out a place a second time, to find deliberately what we stumbled on once before, to recapture the feeling of discovery. Sometimes we search out again even a place that was not remarkable in itself -- we look for it simply because we remember it. If we do find it, of course, everything is different. The rough-hewn door is still there, but it’s much smaller; the day is cloudy instead of brilliant; it’s spring instead of autumn; we’re alone instead of with three friends. Or worse, with three friends instead of alone.

- Elizabeth Kostova, The Historian

It's amazing how some writers can perfectly express a feeling. This passage (taken from a novel I'm currently reading about Dracula, no less) does this to a tee, at least for me. Kostova refers to the sense of rediscovering a long-ago-visited place. As a fellow traveler frequently afflicted by wanderlust, I can completely relate to what she's written. I'm sure everyone has experienced this feeling as well, whether it's going back to your old grade school or visiting the bookstore where you and a significant other first met. You want to try to match the emotions and experiences you've kept locked in your memory, to refresh them, and to give them new meaning. Because perhaps you've been feeling melancholy, or you want something old and safe to hold on to as you tread uncharted territory in your life.

But upon arriving, you find that things aren't quite the same. The school looks dated; the strong, comforting steel of the playground equipment in your memory has been replaced by bright plastic monstrosities. The swingset used to be over here. The bookstore strangely doesn't hold the same allure in real life as it did in your mind. The wrong music is playing overhead, and it wasn't this bright before. So it pushes you the tiniest bit off-balance, and your memories become slightly discolored.

And at the same time, you have changed. You've grown older, hopefully wiser, definitely more cynical. You realize that everything changes with the passage of enough time, and absolutely nothing stays the same forever. The best thing you can do is take those new memories and filter them through the sentiment of the old.

Maybe it's the shorter days and cooler, cloudier weather, but lately I've been feeling more introspective than usual. I've been attempting, with mixed results, to instill an sense of stillness and calm in my life in reaction to the whirlwind that has been 2009 so far. The traveling I have been doing the past few weeks wasn't to distant physical spaces, but to memories and experiences in my mind of when life was simpler. I know things have changed; I have changed. And I'm not trying to "go back to how it once was" because that, in the grand scheme of things, is impossible. But there's the next best thing. And that's to go forward in the best way possible, with a sense of purpose, awareness and gratitude that past memories have served well to guide me thus far.

Composition II.

This fall I've enrolled in a 200-level English composition class, one of two final general education courses I need to round out my degree summary so I can graduate next summer.  ENGL122 is an online course that, according to the syllabus, "emphasizes organizing and polishing steps important in composing expository, evaluative, and persuasive prose", among several other things listed in a detailed outline.

Good thing I like to read and write. I am a little worried that my skills are rusty; the last class that actually graded me specifically on writing was way back in 1994. (Time flies when you're wandering around the country chasing a career.)

Anyway, as part of the introductory online session, we were asked to introduce ourselves on the class discussion board. I was amazed by the diversity of people in my class, ranging from the typical early-20s undergrad to a couple of grandparents, a scattering of single/married young parents, a few people who were taking the class "just for fun", and even a couple of foreign exchange students from China and the Ukraine. It's kind of too bad that the class is held online; I would've liked to see the variation in person.

For our first assignment, where we were instructed to describe a room using our five senses, it wasn't hard to see the more gifted writers (and the non-native English speakers).  We were also asked to start critiquing each other's work, and so far the comments have been positive.  I'm sure that'll change once we settle in.  Here's what I wrote.

Like many other places in hospitals, the temperature of the Nuclear Medicine exam room is kept intentionally cool in an effort to keep everyone alert and help prevent the spread of germs. The occasional sigh of the air-conditioning ducts almost seems to match the labored, raspy breathing patterns of the patient on the table. The spot lights remain dimmed, casting small warm pools onto the polished floor and creating a sense of calm, clashing with the colder, more piercing lights of the monitors and instrument panels scattered around the room.

The entire place is odorless save for the sour medical whiff of the antibacterial hand foam everyone is encouraged to use. Objects in the room are bright, smooth and clean by design, in sharp contrast to the random rumpled sheets and looped oxygen lines attached to our patients. There is a quiet sense of serenity in this room, sure encouragement to those who must undergo examinations here. These are my observations as a student, shadowing the Nuclear Medicine Department.

I cooked that up in just a couple of minutes, but not too terrible I think? We'll see as the semester goes by. I'm excited to write, receive critiques, and polish my craft.