Sometimes tradition is who you are, sometimes it’s who you were… but it always brings you to that place somewhere in between. It’s like how when you visit family it’s easy to regress to childhood roles. Hanging out with Ian, reading This Side of Paradise aloud, it was so easy to dip in and out of college and the nostalgia of those days.

The dance scene that we belonged to, that I still frequent, has changed a great deal (no more late night diners, no more Hollywood vs Savoy). Jason’s an attorney in Atlanta, I’m doing too many things, and Ian’s, well, still hoping to meet that foreign language requirement at Maryland… But when it comes to the grave and the week of birthdays, it’s more about looking back than looking forward, or at least trying to reconcile the two.

I’m not the same ebulliently happy person I tried to be back then. But I still question things in much the same way that Ian, Jason, and I would do late at night at school. F Scott’s writing is just as poignant and applicable.

This time last year I was somewhat complacent. Now is a time when many things are starting, when there’s no settling, when I’m about to get busier than I want to. I’m not fully contented, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that you can’t choose the timing for when things are going to heat up. Well, here’s to the next year, and to getting a little rest before it starts.

The last light fades and drifts across the land — the low, long land, the sunny land of spires; the ghosts of evening tune again their lyres and wander singing in a plaintive band down the long corridors of trees; pale firs echo the night from tower top to tower: Oh, sleep that dreams, and dream that never tires, press from the petals of the lotus flower something of this to keep, the essence of an hour.

F Scott Fitzgerald, at 23 years old, in This Side of Paradise

I got an email from my father recently that further explained why he was captured by a particular ideological movement through much of his twenties. He explained that it provided answers to many nagging questions about how he ought to treat people, why certain atrocities had taken place, and much of who he hoped to be.

It never ceases to fascinate me the way that ideas and beliefs can bring peace and resolution (or the exact opposite) to so many situations. Lately I must confess that I’ve been fairly far from philosophy, but I do believe that literature, articles, poetry, speeches, or even simple quotes can prove just as influential. To spare you from too many drawn out ideas, I want to mention a few quotes with meanings that have left a mark.

My father always used to tell me, “you can’t burn the candle at both ends.” Then at some point early in college I read the related poem:

My candle burns at both ends:
It will not last the night;
But, ah, my foes, and, oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely light
(Edna Saint Vincent Millay)

Now I realize just how much I enjoy late nights and full mornings…and will continue to enjoy that light.

In college my sister was teased by her then-boyfriend about the way she held a spoon. Soon after she and I realized that we both held silverware differently, and that it traced back to my dad (my mom’s etiquette was A-OK). This became a common family discussion, and my sister and I separately purchased the same greeting card with this quote:

If you don’t like someone, the way he holds his spoon will make you furious;
If you do like him, he can turn his plate over into your lap and you won’t mind.
(Irving Becker)

At first the quote merely served as a leitmotif in our conversations…but eventually it took on a much more powerful meaning for me. In the times when I’ve been dating and not so sure about someone, I realized just how much more powerful my little reactions related to how much I cared. I recognized just how much more telling my actions were than anything I intellectualized…and this quote gave a lot of coherence to that idea.

Last year I read Alain de Botton’s Kiss & Tell as a follow-up to his painstakingly introspective On Love (as recommended by Andrew, and later discussed in Book Club); I couldn’t help but fall head over heels for this line:

“It is not ignorance which damages the clarity of our portraits, but the accumulation of knowledge.”

This succinctly put to words what I couldn’t explain in all of Bob & Jared’s Camp Girl Philosophy–about how getting to know people damaged how well we (think we) know people. Maybe it was all the dating going on when it all hit me, but there was something about this idea (in a book that examines the biography-worthy nature of the common person) that helped me to recognize immediately both the naivete of first impressions and the depth that all people have to offer as you get to know them. That also makes me think of the Ursula Le Guin quote:

If you see a whole thing – it seems that it’s always beautiful. Planets, lives… But up close a world’s all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life’s a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern.

I guess I’ll leave you with that thought, and see if some other quote can help to keep the pattern going…

Literally speaking, a “soap box” is exactly what it sounds like, a box in which soap, usually loose laundry soap, is shipped. Though today’s soapboxes are, like much of today’s fast food, constructed of cardboard, up until the middle of the 20th century they were almost universally made of sturdy wood. This sturdiness gave soap boxes a variety of post-shipping uses as storage containers and impromptu seating, and even as the basis of children’s homemade racing cars, as employed in the venerable “Soap-Box Derby.”

One of the most notable uses of an empty soap box back in the 19th century was as a makeshift speaking platform. Since speakers finding themselves forced to resort to a soapbox were also likely to be incensed by not having a proper speaker’s platform (and all the social inequalities implied therein), “soap box” came to be a handy metaphor for a highly charged rhetorical style. By 1907, “soap box oratory” had became a derogatory term for protracted, impassioned, and possibly hyperbolic speechmaking. Still, many people would argue that more truth has been spoken from soap boxes than we’ll ever hear on TV.

All the sleep in the world is some kind of joke keeping us busy, reminding us–
We can only do so much before crashing down into some new scene from a dream
From this life we all want but couldn’t handle anyway.

In spare time we’ll take small steps in circles all day and fight over jobs…
Have to learn to be everywhere in the world at the same time and doing fine.

(from Ghosty, Rooms in the Dark)

I’m overwhelmed. Not just busy but a little worried at finishing the tasks at hand. Happy? Perhaps, but I think Ghosty captures it…and goals can be somewhat futile. There always comes a point where you need to pull back a little if you want to be comfortable. Or just keep on pushing.

Well I really shouldn’t be writing, considering the timecrunch, but this is a stage of life that deserves to be captured. A good life for me is just a series of challenges that turn into frustrations that when I’m lucky turn out successfully. We all know what we can take to be comfortable and what is going to really push us. Since my comfort of late has felt somewhat complacent I’m ready for some real hardwork.

This is a lame posting perhaps but maybe it’ll at least turn you onto a band with some fantastic lyrics and unusual musicality. In the mean time, back to the real world.

In all of those areas I feel like I’m starting to feel a little older, a little wiser, and a little less naive. Some of it is change for the better whereas other bits of reality I could do without. Owning a home can uncover a new array of possibilities…and responsibilities. Sharing a life can teach you about love…and the stubbornness of the heart at moving on. Losing friends of your own age may teach you about death…but it proffers lessons in life that are hard to accept.

The last of those examples has been on my mind a lot lately. I know I’ll never understand why two people roughly the same young age as myself died completely unexpectedly. They both were phenomenal, warm, sincere, and giving people. Ben lived next door for a year in college…and I can still hear the way he’d chide me for being an RA. Perry and I had met on several occasions through his girlfriend with whom I’ve known a long time. Even though we were never close I can’t help but to listen to my friends talk about him and read the stories online.

When we think of death, we don’t know whether to give up at the futility of life or to try that much harder to make the most of it. Losing someone is not like buying a house or earning a degree, both of which offer a foundation for future decisions. My gut reaction is to think of death as the removal of a foundation from those who were close to the deceased. But when I look deeper I think that both death and serious accomplishments are merely events/symbols that bridge together different parts of our lives. They are both merely agents of change.

Then again all of this is just thoughts running through my head, and like most advice it’s much easier in theory than practice. The concept of the defining relationship–Amory Blaine’s Rosalind or Howard Roark’s Dominique–is another topic of age. Nearly without exception all of my closest friends have loved and lost their first love, and moved on…just like the aforementioned protagonists. While their context may appear symbolic, having gone through the struggle myself is as tangible as it is potent. Tack that one on for experience.

But perhaps the trickiest of all is the ever-present battle for independence amidst dependence. In our twenties we all want to be unique and special, leaving a mark on the people and places around us. But much like the Wheelers in Revolutionary Road, we take on responsibilities–dependencies–that both enable us and hold us back. I’ve learned that buying a house, having a serious relationship, or running a business are all empowering but come at a price: time, freedom, money, pain.

I don’t think the cost necessarily outweighs the benefit. To the contrary, experience merely provides a lens for our view around us. It forces us to take in the world from a different perspective. I’d like to think that makes me a little wiser but that could be a stretch. I’m “just a little older, that’s all.”

It’s scary to look at yourself, to get to know someone well, to contrast lives. The principles deemed convictions, hypocrisies since retired, and idiosyncrasies overlooked re-emerge like the once-in-a-lifetime events that now seem to recur as regularly as Monday mornings. And there you are again: questioning your porcelain self once more.

But this time you’ve already come so far. To construct an engine that revs to 200mph is no small feat; what’s to say that much of the technology put into this earlier device can’t re-apply? Or is this new motor to be a John Galt machine–to start from a new paradigm? Do you need to reinvent yourself starting from your deepest recesses?

So here I am, again spouting off questions at the friction from old to new and new to old. I’m not going to provide the luxury of an answer, because this holiday season is more about questions. After all, no matter what engine you invent you still have to test it out on the road. Let’s just hope there aren’t too many walls around.

But along with the coincidence that brought Tomas and Tereza together there was the parallel romantic and terrible end of Anna and Vronsky in Anna Karenina. We choose to find beauty and create symmetry in life and love, but sometimes we need to look a little closer at that beauty. Sometimes we have to untangle the beauty and see it for the circumstance that it is.

You know, I never took Kim to the 94th Aerosquadron. That was where Helen and I had met and spent many an occasion. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve been to the nicest restaurant in College Park in the last 4 years. I’m guilty as charged for holding onto beauty.

There was a tiny, hidden park I used to love in High School. Merrill and I found it one day and spent three hours there swinging and hanging out in this little hut talking about everything that high school kids do when they pour out their hearts and become best friends who live in different states and wish they lived closer. But the terrible beautiful thing about that park is that I took a lot of people there. At first it became their park and not Merrill’s park. But then something changed: it became my park, my memory.

The same unfortunate truth has happened with so many other places. But that’s life: when we move on we can’t expect to leave memories unscathed. We want to preserve the beauty, the innocence, the moment. But life goes on and we shouldn’t be expected not to want to enjoy and appreciate the things that we always loved.

The classic mistake is the dancing couple who breaks up and gives up their cherished activity due to the memories. It’s going to happen that you share things with someone, but just because you’re sharing doesn’t mean you’re not learning something yourself. Just because you’re growing together doesn’t mean you’re not growing yourself.

It would be ridiculous for me to toss aside all the wonderful things I learned about myself, to forget the things I’m now knowledgeable about, or to avoid the subjects and places that have taken on meaning. I created that shared meaning and it’s okay for me to enjoy that meaning just for myself, or with whomever I so choose.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s ironic and bizarre both the professional and personal things I’ve found people to share in common lately. But I can’t fault myself for seeing the beauty, for connecting the dots, for seeing the obvious. But people, places, and events are unique and reminders will fade away like the warm weather. Still, the sun will return and new memories and beauties will be built: some conscious, and some unaware.

The trick is to accept the beauty while being careful, and push aside the pain while being respectful. Bridges are not to be burned, but new bridges must haveroom to be built.

There’s no such thing as finality in moving on, but we’ve just got to lookout for ourselves. So it goes, and so do I…

Now, again, I’m on the precipice of something perhaps greater than myself. I see possibilities in my career that I’d never pictured before. I see a chance to make a greater difference, and to meet phenomenal people along the way. There is a path that’s just beginning to come clear to me. And I want to travel it.

This time I don’t seek balance. I’ve been immensely lucky to have so many wonderful things going on, to have had personal and professional opportunities that came so simply. But now I want to recreate an identity. I want to look to the future and see it in my reach. I want to put other goals aside and move onward. Focus, albeit a bit monomaniacal perhaps, is what I seek.

Along with that, fortunately or unfortunately, means that there will be some changes to this website. It’s from a time when I wanted to share so much with everyone, and let them get a deeper view into the way my mind worked. This site has grown to be a resource to a small community, and it has helped me to get to know people I never would have come across. It’s also made some people’s lives a little easier.

I still want to write and reflect on life’s lessons. Some other things on this site may come down, however. I don’t really know… But I want to warn and excite you that I’m onto something new, something better. Thank you for understanding, and for sharing the inception of this journey.

I wipe the night from my eyes
Block out the sunny day and I hide
Everything’s falling down around us
I’m just missing the rain
And I’m happier now today
Don’t let me down
Don’t let me go
A change of seasons inside her mind
In time I’ll decide
In time I’ll decide to move on

We change directions, we watch the tides
And we borrow too much
We form restrictions…we form lines
And we separate you from me
But sometimes, sometimes we carry more weight than we own
Oh but sometimes…sometimes goes on

Night takes the light by the hand
Tunes out the boring day and cries out loud
Everyone’s hanging on, hanging on my words
It kills the thrill in being divine
She’s happier now today
Don’t let her down
Don’t let her go
There are no reasons there are no lies
We just bleed together
That’s how we realize

We change directions, we watch the tides
And we borrow too much
We form restrictions…we form lines
And we separate you from me
But sometimes, sometimes we carry more weight than we own
Oh but sometimes…sometimes goes on and on and on…

Oh but sometimes…

Somehow we’ll find a way and we’ll paste it back together
These ripped out pages of old coloring books where your
Gold is silver, my blue is gray
It’s all held together by cellophane tape

We change directions, we watch the tides
And we borrow too much
We form restrictions…we form lines
And we separate you from me
But sometimes, sometimes we carry more weight than we own
Oh but sometimes…sometimes goes on and on and on…
In my head I’ve got everything I want in…
In my head I’ve got everything I want in…
In my head I’ve got everything I want in…
In my head I’ve got everything I want in you.

Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, go find a lover
Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover
You belong in that home by and by

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere close to me
Far away from your trouble and worry
You belong somewhere you feel free
You belong somewhere you feel free.
~Tom Petty