i-feels-like

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"We buy balloons, we let them go." This is the "taking pleasure in a look or a feeling or a gesture" that has supposedly never occurred to him, and which is said to achieve nothing. As quickly as he experiences these isolated moments, however, Bateman talks himself out of his optimism and back into the solace of the meaningless, where his failure becomes the norm again. His position is thus one of knowing there is a way out but being too afraid to take it. If everything is meaningless, of course, then there is no shame in not letting the balloon go simply for the sake of it. The suspicion that there is something more is what Bateman attempts, over and over, to kill – to remove the doubt that nags at him and asks why Bethany left him, a circumstance that bothers him so much that, typically, he has to murder her to make it go away. It is when things go differently that his confidence and detachment evapourate, whether trying to strangle Luis Carruthers and finding himself immobilised by not having predicted the outcome or genuinely worried that he does not know how much Tim Price makes or where he went when he disappeared down the tunnel. It is easier for Bateman to believe that nothing is of any consequence and to prove it by acting with seeming impunity than it is to face up to his emptiness on the inside and admit that Jean makes him lose control, not knowing what will happen next. American Psycho, then, is a story about a man so afraid of the uncertainty in the world around him that he finds solace in an idea; namely, that there is no meaning and no one really cares. This at once renders him no different than anyone else and excuses his failure to take any kind of risk. Never having to worry about making his way in life, he seeks out and destroys meaning wherever he finds or suspects it to be hiding to soothe his worry that he has somehow fallen short. Faced with a friend who takes (non-violent) directions he dare not, a colleague whose sexual orientation he was unable to judge and a secretary who will love him unconditionally, he backs away, unable to cope. This fundamental inadequacy, the certainty – buried far beneath the violence – that he is scared of not knowing what will happen next, is why Bateman is trapped in the sure knowledge that there is no exit external to him to take and why he ends the book by sighing again, crushed under the realisation that he will have to find the answers within himself. The book is a tragedy, not a satire.

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[i-feels-like]

I’m a person who tends to keep people in one of three circles.  There are a few people, numbering less than a half dozen that I consider the ‘inner circle’.  These are the people for whom you not only do anything but do it without thinking about it and realize only later that you’ve done something important.  And when you do have that realization you don’t even think about it because it was second nature.  The second circle is people with whom you aren’t as intimate but that you might actively seek out for conversation; the ones that you’ve invited out countless times to do something after work but they never seem to have time.  To the third belong all the people that you crack jokes with in the hallway in passing or talk to only in meetings.  You know them well and you may like them but for whatever reason the interaction just hasn’t gone social.

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Ushuaia: Day Two – Many Dogs, A Bunch of Seals and Some Stinky Birds

(CAN-AL BEEG-LAY)

At the very end of South America, the sun rises doesn’t rise until after nine o clock which means early morning light, not early in the morning. For the early rising challenged like myself, it was wonderful to walk from our room in a cozy bed and breakfast up the hill and down into the city soaking in the morning. My sister and I would enjoy our breakfast of warm bread, coffee, marmalade and the most delightful jam I ever tasted made from Calafate berries and then make our way down for the day. For our first morning and full day, we planned to dogsled and take a boat tour through the Beagle Channel. Dogsledding which may be a bit of a tourist trap, was still very exciting for the short time it lasted and who can resist nearly a field of dogs looking for attention? Driving back through the mountains and down to the city center, the landscape is just incredible. Snow covered mountains, deep brown trees, rich gray rocks and the occasional pop of bright green from the native lengas trees. Winter is most surely my favorite season and color palette – which is partly why there are a handful more photographs than in my usual posts. Plus the boat tour was a spectacular sight. From the bow, the Beagle Channel was passing underneath, Argentina to the left and Chile to the right. I thought it was pretty incredible to be in same place as Charles Darwin and get to come close to two kinds of seals and sea lions along with seeing (and smelling) the native camarones bird. While nearly freezing along the last part of the tour through small islands covered with ancient moss and grass in the Channel, I was just delighted to be there and behold the beauty. If only we had known those clouds were bringing an unseasonal two feet of snow…

[i-feels-like]

For the adventure

On this most recent birthday I turned 28 years old.  2-8.  2 years from 30.

“We’ll go ahead and get this warmed up for you.”

And, all in all, it was a great birthday.  I spent it with a man I love.  I ate a giant fucking steak (which is now a prerequisite for all good days).  I got a hug from my mom.   I recollected on the past year and felt good about it.  I checked Facebook to see all the happy birthday messages (far less than last year and years previous – but all quality wishes).  I wondered about next year, next birthday, and then birthday after that.  I came up with a list of 5 things I’m looking forward to when it comes to getting older.

Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #5 – Looking good for my age.

I went to dinner on Thursday night (for the aforementioned giant fucking steak) and the waitress says

“So, do we have a special occasion?”

And my boyfriend says, “It’s her birthday today, actually.”

And the waitress asks a question that never gets asked.  ”How old are you today?”

I pause.  Did she really just ask my age?  Most southern women don’t ask that.  But I answer.  ”I am 28 years old today.”

“Really?! You don’t look 28!” (my waitress is asian now – fuck you)

You’re goddamn right I don’t look 28.  I’ve got genetics on my side, son!

And that’s what I want.  I want every woman that ever pulls the crazy stunt of asking my age to immediately regret the decision.  I want to explain that I have a Hispanic mom (ethnicity one-up), I wear sunscreen everyday, and I have a round face which always makes people look younger.  So I’m looking forward to shocking people when they ask my age the older I get, because chances are, I’ll always look younger than they expect.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t look 95. Gotcha, bitch!” (yep, I’m asian and toothless now – fuck you)

Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #4 – Talking about things that were around when I was “your age”.

I’m a sucker for history.  I still remember when you got charged for the internet by the minute.  I remember typing a report on a typewriter in elementary school.  Oregon Trail.  Popples.  Pee-wee’s Playhouse.  I love that shit.  And now, I can tell you how much I love that shit because I have time on my side, buddy, and you have young ears for listening.

“THIS IS SOME DOPE SHIIIIIITTTTT!”

I, personally, find it sometimes boring when older people tell me about things they liked or places they went because I don’t always understand the context.  But I also understand that age gives you the right to bore young people…and I’m cashing in those chips…with a vengeance.

Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #3 – Hating everything you like.

I don’t understand a lot of what people 5 years younger than me like.  10 years younger, I’m even more lost.  And kids?  I don’t know anything about what they like.  And if getting older has taught me anything it’s that if I don’t understand it, I hate it.  I will hate it because it’s new, I will hate it because you like it, I will hate it because you’re younger than me.

Seriously, kill yourself. No, don’t ask, just do it.

I’m too young to be crotchety but there’s a certain anger that springs up from seeing the world liking things without you. New things happening without your input or consent.  Things changing that you liked just fine before.

“Mom, you don’t understand, once I go to sleep everyone I like has a party without me. Grab my coat.”

But at least I’m old enough to hate that.  Hearing teenagers bitch about new things is like a sapling bitching about seeds – you were JUST THERE.  Give it some time.

Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #2 – Gray hairs.

I have a few of these.  My brother has more than a few of these.  My dad started going gray when he was in his early 20s.  Gray hairs are fun because they embody all of what is cool about being older – with time, who you are grows into something different.  I’ve purposely stopped coloring my hair to see the grays come in and have not been disappointed.  They’re especially fun because their characteristics are completely different from your other hairs – they’re thicker like some optic cable and stick out in weird ways.  They could give a fuck what they look like and don’t care what you do…much like old people.

Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #1 – Figuring it all out.

I’m not old.  I speak of all these things like I am, but I am thankful for the youth I still have.  But I’m getting acquainted with the idea that one day I’m going to wake up and I won’t be young anymore.  I’ll have wrinkles.  My body will be less spry, less springy, less agile, less cooperative.  That doesn’t scare me as much as it used to, though it still makes me uneasy at times.

“Greetings, it’s the old age fairy here to bestow tidings of achy joints, saggy skin, and crippling regret. Sleep well.”

But it happens.  And while I’m getting older, I’m becoming who I’m supposed to be – the person that was behind all the youthful shenanigans, blunders, and stupidity.  The person that needed those things in order to grow.  I’m more “me” now than I’ve ever been before.  I know who and what I love, I know what I like, I know what can happen, and I’m looking forward to taking the time getting to where I ultimately need to be.  Where will I be a year from now?  Five?  10?

Not knowing is part of the fun.  Happy 28 years, me.  You earned them.