Everyone Has A Price.

Vimeo served up this awesome short film to my inbox today. Take the sixteen minutes out of your day to watch; it's well worth it [NSFW].


Whoa. (c)Keanu

I was really impressed by the sharp editing and stark, fluorescent cinematography. The cast, a nice little Benetton coalition of actors displaying a wide range of emotions, was on point too. Additionally, the atmosphere of the film -- equal parts desperation, hope, and greed -- drew me in almost immediately. I liked the juxtaposition of various visions of pleasure/paradise broadcast by the television screens against the greasy, bloody recordings of the convenience store security camera. The resolution for the two characters bookending the film made me chuckle, too; at least something went right for somebody.

Your Lucky Day [larger version here] asks us what we would do in a similar situation. How would you weigh a share of $156 million against witnessing two murders you had nothing to do with? What would your price be, knowing that your death would likely be the consequence if you didn't agree to the terms?

Are your morals worth your life?

I think that at the moment, my self-preservation instinct would kick in. True, refusing to acquiesce to the robber's demands wouldn't bring the dead back to life. Not really having much of a choice, I would probably have acted in a similar way to the couple. However, I think the guilt would eat me alive. Admittedly, whether or not I'd eventually turn myself in is up in the air.

That I'd even hesitate to do "the right thing" is probably some kind of moral failure. I suspect, however, that I'm not alone.

So, dear reader ... what is your price?

Lyrics: "Pressure" (Verse 03).

The song this verse is from, "Pressure," was a rare one for me to write at the time. It was a welcome spark of inspiration and positivity during a period when I was going through some significant internal changes, many for the worse. Listening to the song soon after recording it, I realized that I was writing it as much for myself as for the important people in my life -- a strange and illuminating epiphany.

sky high [via]

I'm here for you fam, especially when you're strugglin' to make it
When you're feelin' lower than a puddle in the pavement
When you're cussin' at the world, suffering and wasted
Look, we all hustlin' so face it

There's gonna be times when each one of us is sinkin'
Times when you're goin' out ya mind and you wanna chug a drink and
Feelin' like you're traveling but lost your way
Pissed off at the cards that you're forced to play

Believe me, I've been in similar straits
Situations so heavy that I almost couldn't deal with the weight
If it wasn't for those who kept me movin' on in this race of life
I would be dead last, still at the gate

That don't mean that I'm stress-free
Far from it but let's see, I'm still puttin' forward the best me
And damn right I'ma help you out the same, fam
That's the game plan: Sky-high until the plane lands

The Only Thing That Stays The Same.

It seems as though I've been in a massive period of transition these past couple of years. I lost my job in Southern California, moved back to the Midwest to go back to school in a small rural town, attended my clinical internship for a year in the Kansas City metro area, and then going back to finish up my final semester. Last week I moved back to the KC area for three more months to complete my MRI preceptorship and prepare for the MR boards.

Initially I'd moved in with a close friend from high school, but he and his fiancée lived too far -- my commute was 50 miles and an hour away each way. I tested it out for a couple of days before deciding to take up an offer from friends of family who thankfully live much closer to the hospital. I moved again over the weekend; now my commute is only about five miles and a thousand times more convenient and practical even though I'm renting the room. I figure that this expense is well worth the time I'll be saving, not to mention the wear and tear on the car. I mean, I might be able to justify a hundred-mile, 2-hour round-trip commute in a place like Orange County or Seattle, but not here. So I finally "settled in" yesterday afternoon in my new living quarters and breathed a sigh of relief.

We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves.
- Lynn Hall, Where Have All the Tigers Gone?

Generally, I like change. It signifies something new and sometimes exciting, an opportunity to adapt to whatever life is throwing my way. It's been a chance to prove my resilience and tenacity and I think I've succeeded (for the most part) in being able to change myself accordingly. Granted there have been some aspects of myself that have been surprisingly resistant and this has been cause for some concern. I'd always thought myself as someone who could roll with the punches, and while I think that's very true for the majority of things that have changed in my life, over the past couple of years I've discovered some parts of me that are unpleasantly stubborn. These were illuminated after some kind of conflict, either with my own self or with people close to me. Unfortunately, by the time I'd discovered these flaws, damage had already been done and may be irreversible.

This year I had resolved to look at myself more from the outside, as someone else might see me, instead of staying in my box all the time and assuming that I was as open-minded as I believed I was (I wasn't. This realization was truly a shock to me and upset me greatly). But I can confidently say that I've made some progress and am in the process of proving it to myself, as well as to certain other people I hold in high regard. I can't say when I'll be able to look in the mirror and say You are now as accepting of change and as open-minded as you will ever be because I still think I have a way to go. But as I become "more clearly myself" -- and as my life changes once again when I return to the West Coast in three months -- I hope that it is in a positive direction and I will welcome change with an honest heart.

Watch The Closing Doors.

No idea what's causing it, but I've been in a noir-ish kind of mood lately. Not depressed/sad/emo in particular really, but dark in a quiet, contemplative way. It's because a major chapter is closing in a few weeks; graduation and the national board exams are approaching fast, so anticipation of finally being done with school is building up. But I know I have to stay focused on finishing classes strongly and then pass the boards.

Anyway I dipped into Photoshop last night and came up with this. It reflects part of my current mood pretty well.

[source image via]

"Watch the closing doors" personally means that I need to be as self-aware of my current path in life as I can. This is actually quite important to me on a deeper level -- I've written about feeling lost before and while it was an interesting learning experience, I don't really want to feel that way anymore. Now, with a new chapter about to write itself, I want to make sure my steps are steady and I actually know where the hell I'm going ...

Catharsis.

It's been raining. And it reminds me of Seattle.

I miss them both. I miss hanging out in my loft in Greenwood, listening to and watching the rain come down. I like the thought of the rain washing the city clean, giving it a fresh start. I know a ton of people hate the rain but I never ever minded. Ever. Rain was a catharsis for me, a chance to renew.

[via]

I feel like I need to give myself a fresh start. There are so many new things in my life, as well as older issues that have become ... baggage. I keep mentioning it, but I'm weighed down: Finishing my re-education and jump-starting my new career after graduation. My relationship problems. My financial situation (or lack thereof). Working hard not to disappoint my family -- and others close to me. I'm stressed.

It's a lot for me. I'm used to being a little more laissez faire with my life. I've always had the "twig in the river" mentality -- almost like fatalism -- where I go where life takes me, I'll just be along for the ride. It worked out like that for a few years, in Seattle. I truly had a blast, lived it up, partied, and generally didn't pay any mind to where I was really going, or what I was going to do next. (Not that I did anything crazy, but I considered myself pretty happy-go-lucky as far as lifestyle went.) Then came Veronica. The twig entered the rapids.

I have to credit a couple of people in my life who have blessed me with advice (you all know who you are). They've provided me with much-needed insight into myself, my feelings, my relationships -- family-related and otherwise -- and into life in general. I can't afford to live like I used to, they say. I have entered a stage where I have to man up and actually be responsible, not just for my own life but for the lives of the people involved in ours. No more half-trying. No more messing around. For this, I have to thank all of you. Your words will not go unheard.

It's funny how half of me found this advice hard to swallow. Half of me wanted to keep floating. But I know I can't.

I need it to keep raining.

Speaking of Seattle, I'm headed up there for about a week for Spring Break. However, regular updates of Perpetual Mixtape will continue. I'm cool like that. I think.

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.

What Is Your Secret?

In the excellent tradition of 50 People, 1 Question*, the people from PostSecret went out into NYC to ask random passers-by something simple: "What is your secret?" Here are the results.


Side note: I love the diversity of people in this video. Style + accents + ethnicity = awesome. It's one of the things I miss most about living in a huge city. Plus when there's a diverse population, great restaurants aren't far behind KNOWHATIMSAYIN?

It's amazing what thoughts, actions or beliefs people will confess to -- especially when asked in a pseudo-anonymous setting like this. The responses range from philosophical to quirky (eating cereal in the bedroom in one's underwear is definitely a movement I can get behind) ... and I'm attracted to the element of honesty in the answers. It's kinda refreshing after being immersed in a society that's constantly being bombarded by marketing, advertising and "spin."

After browsing the PostSecret blog for a little while (and being at turns amused, horrified, relieved and concerned), I was inspired to make my own personal confession. The following is rather heavy, but it's reflective of my current mindstate:

[source image via]

Come to think of it, this was actually calming and therapeutic in its own way. I'll do more in the future.

What is your secret?

*Seriously, if you have a few more minutes to spare, watch these videos. They're fascinating.

Boo.

Displacement, Used Furniture & Dreams.

I suppose it's the fact that I just moved out of my apartment in Olathe, back home for another six months: I still feel like I'm in some kind of funky transit. Almost all of my clothes came with me, but all of my furniture went east to Columbia into my brother's condo. It's a relatively large place to fill so we're talking about my completely awesome sofa and bench, super-comfy bed, rolled-steel bookcase, and dining room set. That stuff went away a week before I actually left the place so I made do with a thick sleeping bag surrounded by bags and boxes for a few days, which I didn't really mind at all. (My inner minimalist nods in approval.)

Most of the rest of my non-essential personal belongings remain in the otherwise-empty apartment, which I technically still occupy until the end of the month. I'll go get the rest of my crap over an upcoming weekend, but in the meantime I'm left with an almost-disquieting sense of displacement because so much of my stuff feels like it's everywhere. I realize that's pretty overblown and sounds alarmingly materialistic -- and I swear I'm not -- but there it is.

That's probably the reason I found myself looking at furniture for sale on Craigslist. I've never really used that site for buying stuff (leave that to my sister) but I'm looking ahead to when I get my own place again after graduation this summer. Since I'm not planning on taking anything to Seattle other than what can fit in my car, I'm going to have to start over with regards to household items and furniture. This is pretty exciting -- the prospect of starting completely fresh, free to design and arrange my new place to fit my own standards and aesthetics. With the limitation of budget, of course ...

... which is why Craigslist is so appealing at the moment. During the hour or two of my fantasy used-item window-shopping experience, I found several relatively inexpensive pieces that would look great arranged together in an apartment. I had visions of repainting end tables, installing shelves, reupholstering bar stools and hanging original art on my new unblemished walls. I saw myself visiting consignment stores and finding the perfect office desk, ready for a second life. I wanted to take "before" and "after" photos of my glorious handiwork and submit them to the galleries on Apartment Therapy. Okay, so that last one's far-fetched, but the homes (even the tiny 500-square-foot spaces) featured on that site are seriously tasteful, carefully maintained and well-appointed -- and always leave me all jealous and whatnot. But they give me something to build toward.

I know I have a number of months to go before I can even begin to start outfitting my new crib from the ground up, and years before I can even think of being able to afford an actual home that I can, you know, do things to -- but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

Maybe I should stop browsing Craigslist and AT. Ah who am I kidding -- it doesn't hurt to dream a little :)

Make Your Choice.

[via]

Eight Years Later.

As if you needed any kind of reminder, today marks the eighth anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center.  Like billions of other people, I can clearly remember what I was doing and where I was when I found out about the tragedy. I've never really written about it before (although I've alluded to the experience in past journal entries) so personally this will be a fresh look at that day.

That particular Tuesday started out routinely, a typical workday morning in Seattle.  I've never made it a habit to turn on the TV while getting ready, so I possessed no knowledge of what had already happened -- Wikipedia marks the beginning of the attacks at 8:46am Eastern, while I was still asleep on the West Coast. My bus stop was only a block away from the apartment, and I took my place in line with fellow commuters waiting for the 941 to swing by. I must've been switching out CDs in my Discman when I heard two women saying something about "a plane hitting the World Trade Center in New York." I don't think they had much information on it, that maybe it was a terrible accident, but was most likely a terrorist attack. The 941 came, and the ride downtown on I-5 was abuzz with passengers talking about the event.

An ugly knot began growing in my stomach. By the time I got to work, I felt like throwing up: My brother Jose and Mike, a mutual friend, were visiting New York for the week, and from previous conversations with them I'd known that the Towers were on their list of Things To Visit In NYC. Yeah you can probably tell where this is going. I became increasingly distressed and focused on nothing but getting to a TV and trying to get more details, but unfortunately there were no televisions in the office. I had to resort to refreshing news websites constantly for the tiniest scrap of new information; I must have pressed the Redial button on my cell a hundred times to try to get through the jammed airwaves. No dice.

I remember leaning against a wall in the hallway outside of my office after another futile attempt at calling, fearing the worst. My boss tried to give me some words of comfort, but of course my imagination ran rampant and crippled my mind. The photos of explosions, smoldering wreckage and terrified faces on the news sites didn't help things at all.

No one in the company worked that day. My concentration was completely shot. I remember one co-worker in particular who was especially shook; she worked the early shift and had just finished talking to a client in New York. Needless to say, she (and half of the office staff) went back home not long after they arrived. Payroll was due on Tuesdays so my boss and I were obligated to get that job done, but it took us three times as long to finish and I got nothing else accomplished that day. I was numb.

I was finally able to get through to my mom that afternoon. To my immense, intense relief, she assured me that Jose and Mike were fine and safe at my uncle's house; that they hadn't even had breakfast yet when the first plane struck.

Was it fate? Divine intervention? Hell, the fact that my brother hates getting up early? I look back and have no idea. But the feeling that I got at that time can only be described as blessed. It was very strange, and left me empty and full at the same time.

And I could breathe again.

As you know, the whole world changed at that point. Even now, eight years later -- when Ground Zero is being rebuilt and repurposed into a place even greater than it once was, when we have long been accustomed to long airport security lines and putting our toothpaste into clear plastic bags, when our military presence in the Middle East has overstayed its welcome -- even now, the personal impact of that day still twists my stomach and clouds my brow. I was blessed. I could have lost someone, and I didn't.

But thousands of other families did. I can only imagine what they went through then, and what they are still going through now, so today my thoughts and prayers go out to them.

In Memoriam: 11 September 2001.

The Way It Should Be.

From a recent, enlightening phone conversation:

Starting over is highly overrated. You deal with what you're given and you do the best you can, and it all ends up the way it should be.
- a good friend of mine on life, 02 September 2009

Sometimes the simplest words paint the clearest pictures. Thanks for listening to me, and maybe I'll succeed in applying this little bit of wisdom to the ever-changing Rorschach inkblot that is my life right now.