A small, but annoying problem

I write down quotations. Constantly. When I'm walking past someone who makes a ridiculous comment (like the teenager who said "I don't know what it is, but your shirt reminds me of some Asianness" to her friend in the obviously Chinese-inspired top). When I see a t-shirt I like ("Prague: Czech it out"). Or when I read the newspaper (yeah, I still do that). I have a couple notebooks and Word Docs started with my favorite quips. I find myself adding to them constantly.

Consequently, I think of them frequently. I could take just about any topic and remember something Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Maya Angelou, or Nelson Mandela said in reference. Sometimes I fear my reliance on them to evaluate life is dangerous. Well, as dangerous as mental rabbit trails can be.

Still, I find myself drawn to them. Usually, I copy them with great (OCD-like) accuracy and include the proper attribution. Sometimes, however, I forget, or my writing is unclear, or I don't know who to give the credit to. A quick Google search will generally tell me who said it and why, so lately, I haven't cared much if I forgot to write down who said the particular piece of wisdom or wit I decided to transcribe.

I've included all that information because I found a post-it yesterday with an excellent quote:

(In case you are having trouble reading my writing it says "The problem with most people isn't that they set the bar too high and fail, but that they set the bar too low and succeed.")

I'm not sure when I wrote it (like I said, I do this frequently), although I can understand why it would have seemed important to do so. The words resonate with me. I get so caught up in meeting small, somewhat insignificant goals that I ignore the big ones. I'm good at the here and now. The long run seems insurmountable. I know I can substitute teach for a day, but I'm not sure I can get a job I really want/need. I find myself content with low standards. I like my petty triumphs too much.

But that's not what bothers me. Right now, at least, all I seem to care about is "Who said that?" I really need to know. Well, I don't need to know, but I really want to. An extensive search (via Google) has lead me nowhere. I tried to convince myself that something is true no matter who said it, but I have this unshakable desire for context.

Has anyone heard it before? I tend to think it was from a book, or a movie, or perhaps just a youtube video. Alas, I will have to be more cautious when writing these things in the future.

Day 23: Something you wish you had done in your life

I feel like this topic implies my life is essentially over. Is this, my 24th year, the year in which I should stop talking about what I want to do and start nostalgically looking back on what I did/didn't do? No, I'm not ready to take on that perspective. I'm still too busy living - or at least trying to sort out this thing we've named life.

Henry Miller, as flawed as he was, certainly had an admirable way of seeing our existence. He jumped in with both feet and recorded his keen observations for anyone who didn't censor literature. Some of my favorite quotations are attributed to him. The above one is pretty good, but a much more better one is his command to "Develop an interest in life as you see it, the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself."

I suppose if I were to limit myself to one thing I wish I had done. I wish I had found this statement earlier. Life is so much more amazing if you're just willing to take an interest in it. There are too many things to see, read, feel, hear, and discover to be bored. How much have I missed because I was distracted by my own petty desires?

Day 14: Officially Skipped

I admire people, it's true, but I've had no "heroes" to speak of. People are fallible; I learned that at a young age. So I can't tell you about a hero letting me down. Instead, I will share a book I read recently (because it was delightful).

I didn't read any great literary works this week. I ignored Shakespeare, Dickens, Hawthorne, Austen, Dostoevsky, and the like. Sure, I currently have library books entitled Death in Venice, The Fountainhead, Age of Innocence, and All the Pretty Horses, but no, I have not read them.

This week I opted for humor.

It all started when I asked a friend for a book fitting 3 qualifications:

1) it was written by a female
2) it was NOT chick lit
3) it was not Age of Innocence (because that's already on my list)

She thought about it for a day or two and then sent me here.

After reading the first essay online, I was hooked and decided I didn't care that it was old news (printed over two years ago!), so I traveled to the library and checked it out. I carried it around with me for several days, reading its pages and a laughing at it contents - often eliciting inquiries from those nearby.

I could tell you she's witty, keenly observant, audacious, etc., but I'd rather just include a few of my favorite jokes from the book.

It is my belief that people who speak of high school with a sugary fondness are bluffing away early-onset Alzheimer's.

. . . ten-year-olds of the world, you shouldn't believe what your teachers tell you about the beauty and specialness and uniqueness of you. Or, believe it, little snowflake, but know it won't make a bit of difference until after puberty. It's Newton's lost law: anything that makes you unique later will get your chocolate milk stolen and your eye blackened as a kid. Won't it, Sebastian? Oh, yes, it will, my little Mandarin Chinese-learning, Poe-reciting, high-top-wearing friend. God bless you, wherever you are.

What annoyed me was that I so often attempted to weasel out of things on purpose, it killed me to do it by accident. It seemed like a waste of whatever detailed lie I was going to have to come up with. 

I thought we had reached an understanding, the institution of marriage and I. Weddings are like the triathlon of female friendship: the Shower, the Bachelorette Party, and the Main Event. It's the Iron Woman and most people never make it through. They fall off their bikes and choke on ocean water.

Day 11: Something people seem to compliment you the most on

How many times do people have to say you're nice before it's definitely true? Whatever the number, I'm certain I will qualify. 

I think most people intend a compliment when they label a person "nice," but I'm not sure it is one. I hate to take a negative spin on compliments, but whenever I hear the statement, I can't help but believe they really mean "bland" in the place of "nice." I describe people as "nice" when I can think of no other characteristic to comment on. 

I would, however, prefer to considered a boring nice rather than an off-putting mean or rude or inconsiderate.  

I'm keeping this post short because well, I'm a tad bit sickly and colds tend to inhibit my ability to think clearly for long periods of time (or is that the medication?). I'll end with a quote from one of Austen's most enjoyable novels.

 

 "I am sure," cried Catherine, "I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should not I call it so?"

"Very true," said Henry, "and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk, and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh! It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything. Originally perhaps it was applied only to express neatness, propriety, delicacy, or refinement -- people were nice in their dress, in their sentiments, or their choice. But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word." 

Life - tragedy or comedy?

Horatio "Horace" Walpole once said, "Life is a tragedy for those who feel, but a comedy to those who think." Little did he know how often people would state and restate his epigram.

You've probably never heard of dear Horace even though he wrote several historical works, coined the word "serendipity," and is generally credited with inventing the Gothic novel. (He was also known for over-supporting corrupt monarchs, but I'm interested only in his literary achievements.)

Anyway, I did some research on him because I wanted to know why someone would say such a thing. At first, I assumed he was a feeler having a bit of a pity-party for himself, or a thinker laughing at a well-composed satire. But as it seems, Horace was decently balanced. And even though I appreciate the wit - I have to believe this particular quotation is misguided.

I would have expected Mr. (Sir?) Walpole to have recognized this either/or fallacy. Maybe he did, but ignored it. Life is neither a comedy nor a tragedy - it is a mixture of the sorrow that makes us stronger (or bitter), and the joy that lifts our spirits (or makes us complacent). If you think the world is tragic (as you might after hearing/seeing this moving piece of music), take a step back and look at a bigger picture - one where there are people working to make it better (like the songwriter and the artists spreading awareness).

One moment life looks tragic, another makes you laugh at it's comedy. Therefore, I confront the fickle-feeler in me with the knowledge that this life is not a logical fallacy and remind the detached analytical in me to be willing to feel sadness as well as happiness.

A change in thinking

"The smallest good deed is greater than the grandest intention"

I recently heard this statement used and (for perhaps the first time) I believed its message.

Previously, I had been stuck on the implications of good intent - i.e. a good heart/soul or a person who recognizes right and wrong and wishes good's prevail. Who cares about a small, but good deed when anyone can do a few decent things from time to time without being truly "good".

But that isn't the point of the remark.

When we have good intentions, we can believe ourselves to be great, wonderful people, but those around us have no evidence. The casual onlooker would have no reason to think well of you. Thoughts don't catch on - actions do. Even the tiniest act of kindness can be a tangible example for the world to follow - rather than remain puffed up by all the wishes it thought about fulfilling.

Intentions are important when you want to be genuine, but if you want to make an impact - look around and do something great - even if it's just calling your mom to tell her you love her.

Not sure this one counts as a quote, but since it happened again . . .

"Close your eyes, and picture . . ." are the words I heard until I tuned out of a very cliche and consequently boring illustration. Sadly, I have (once again) been asked to close my eyes and picture myself in a ridiculous situation or somehow retrieve an image of the most important thing in my life. Every time someone has made such a request, I have been lost to my own ponderings. First, I dislike such practices because they leave me more vulnerable than I prefer. Second, I wouldn't be able to visualize any better (when I close my eyes, I can never "see" anything). And third, when I close my eyes I do not care what I see - I care what I hear, smell, feel, and already know (most of all, what I know). Without my sight, I am left with understanding, and sight is no longer important.


So why ask? I suppose many people must close their eyes because this world is so distracting. Picturing a specific image is difficult when we are bombarded with the hundreds present in every room. When we close our eyes, our reality fades into the background and we become more aware of ourselves. But I still don't appreciate having to close my eyes to the hundreds of objects around me in order to remember or imagine one specific thing. When you ask me to close my eyes, you cater to my inability to focus. Concentration is a skill to be learned in every situation - not just the ones we so carefully contrive.




Why do you ask me to see with my eyes closed, when you should ask me to understand - even though my eyes are open?






Bonus quotation (or rather, one I do not believe I could post about, but love anyway): "Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise above the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have - life itself." - Walter Anderson