penmypath

[penmypath]

So it is, the India and Eurasia plates, that was the last significant collision. Two powers greatly smashed together to create the last great vibration. This story, it is that of those two things that clashed. We are the story, the after image, the final thoughts, rippling through, every dips and turns and whips and lashes.

And as we lay waste, we find some harshly impress their will onto life. Those who demand for something better. Those who don't feel it good enough, to understand strife. This allows them to see what's new, and what's ahead. So we do this thing to find our place, to seize our paths, and our fates. Then soon someone new will find its problems, its woes. So they try to conquer us, just the same.

[penmypath]

A city built by trains.

No, rather, with trains in mind.

A thought of retrospect, but not to its own independent experience, but to others that did it first.

As I rode the MTR from Po Lam to Tsing Yi this morning, I ponder this reality. How the city of Hong Kong had the delayed development that allowed for an infrastructure to be planned and built with efficiency in mind.

Certainly, any infrastructure was build with efficiency in mind, yet, what the secondary layer of efficiency, one that considers "what if this system was build with the larger scope of the city in mind?" simply because Hong Kong had a general developed city in existence prior to the development of the train system.

Take CTA for example, the train system in Chicago. It was named "The Loop" for it was only designed with the small framework of looping within the small-scope of downtown back in the early 20th century. Large parts of what we now consider part of the city, where retail and commercial may thrive where events may be, did not exist at the time when The Loop was established. The later transit system was build concurrently to the expansion of the city system throughout the 20th century. And arguably, the efficiency of the CTA compared to the MTR is simply lacking.

Beyond the geographic and physical design of the transit system, Hong Kong also made operating changes as well, making the transit system a huge commercial opportunity, but arguably to a fault.

Where I am fond of the CTA is that it is a public commute which is supposed to allow for Chicagoans the opportunity to get home. The blue and red line runs 24 hours. The cost is relatively affordable, nor does it fluctuate by distance, where as the MTR is a commerical system beast. The MTR company serves as the public transit for the masses, yet, it benefits hugely by having developed many entertainment, residential complexes, conveniently at their stations. This making it a highly insulated operation. You take their trains to their malls to spend at their stores. It is quite remarkable from a business standpoint. But it certainly begs the question of monopoly.

This has been the great question I've been dancing with since my return home. This observation of seeing my family accepting their simple role of being a cog in the machine, asking me to do the same. Appreciating the benefits of simply allowing a small few conglomerates to take all our earnings, but receiving their prizes of efficiency and ease. Thoughtless, but comfortable. Versus the fighting hands of the American landscape, one that demands for me to fight for what's mind, yet, when I do, it truly is, sincerely and genuinely mine. I still battle in my soul which idea befits me, befits this world, befits all of us?

Even more importantly is which do I trust more? The one that promises it'll take care of me, or one that blatantly says I'm on my own?

[penmypath]

How the city lives

I was looking out the window at the cafe. My father and I each ordered a cappuccino. We were in Po Lam, the neighborhood I grew up in. They call it a satellite city, only a mountain-way, or a tunnel path out into more "downtown" of Hong Kong. I was looking out the window at the cafe, and we were surrounded by these residential skyscrapers that peaked a distinct memory. These blocks, so uniformed, so geometrically organized, shaped like plus signs from atop, oddly aligned.

My father was telling me about the Henderson building, about how it defined an era of audacious architecture. The sun would reflect upon its grandiose windows along the skyscraper. It would serve the people within the building well, deflecting the heat away from the Henderson, yet, it would unknowingly become the source of solar to everything surrounding the giant beast.

I begged the question of what life these buildings hold, whether each monument is itself a projection of the owner, the designer, the culture, the time. It was a strange thought, that these buildings expressed such strong personalities.

What is life but an expression to evoke a feeling out of other life? What of a person that does not make you feel? What of a building that does?

Those residential buildings in Po Lam, I played with people that grew up in those buildings. I learned of their path when they grew up, how that building shaped their subsequent life. Those buildings told me stories that's evolved the way I feel about it.

It's an interesting thought.

[penmypath]

Writing my way in the world

My name is Preston and I am writer, journalist, and an explorer. I'd spent my early 20s in Chicago, journeying though the wild mid-west playing music, purveying art and artists alike, and learning the cold, bitter life of the Chicago streets.

As I approach my big 30, I have found a moment of stillness in my life that's beacon me to reflect, to think clearly so I can truly pen my path of what will come next.

I'd just moved back to my hometown of Hong Kong and found myself burrowed back into the wombs of my native land. There is both a comfort and a discomfort in this familiarity. I'm reminded of what it must be like to be a child, but in a greater clarity than when I was a kid. We'd often forget the reality of our youths, reminiscing in nostalgia, marinating in a warm bath of memories. Yet, I am now reminded of this co-dependence that was also true within my youth. While there are many things I suddenly do not have to busy myself with, there are a lot of things I find myself being tugged around to do. These feelings they're not difficult, yet, they are different. After 12 years in Chicago, living independently and alone, it's jarring to suddenly live with family and in constant connection.

Though, in my two months since I've arrived home, my path felt as if I suddenly teleported back to thoughts in a different time. In my familial home I discovered old National Geographic magazines that once held dear my attention. There was a time when I'd frequent those pages to learn of places that fascinated my being. Some were of grandeur beauty, some of great stories, and some of grave knowledge of societal concerns. National Geographic, arguably, was the beginning of my journalism path. This publication shared with me the world. It was this feeling that I learned I wanted to give to others. I wanted to share this world with every body else too.

In my stillness, in my reflection, I have decided to write my way to this path again. A little older, a little wiser, significantly more focused, I want to write my future to be one that I dreamed of when I was a kid. One where I am a National Geographic Explorer, seeing the world, breathing in the air in every corner of Earth I can get to. I want to show you the world.

So this is what this is, a place where I start to practice my journalism again, my writing, my observing. A vital manner in which I want to live my life, I want to live it again, and through this, I will do so, and I will write and write, tell so many stories that, hopefully, can bring wonders to you, so much so that the world will have me see it more and more, so I can share its beauty more and more. I promise you this, that I will show you beauty, that way I see it.