Published Monday November 27th, 2006

I haven’t written anything in a while. I should be writing at least one of three essays I have due this week, but writing a weblog entry is more enjoyable. It also has more value to me. I’m not sure what mood I’m in right now. I’d tell you if I knew. Something along the lines of very scatter-brained. Not well composed. From the looks of it, this entry seems like it’ll be one with more media than textual content. I’m not feeling particularly thoughtful or insightful and I am slightly reluctant to force the mood. Wait.. never mind: Apples.

Memory is interesting to observe, at least I find it fascinating to view what my memory throws at me. Recently, I’ve been talking to a new friend that has completely restored my memories of German class back in high school during Junior year. Before talking to this person I had just about completely forgotten some of the things that happened in that class, including many of the other students. A simple connection brought memories flooding back from events I’d long forgotten. They might as well have been completely gone, and now they’re restored and more vivid than I could ask for. In a few years when I have forgotten all about the past few months, will some event trigger the awakening of some of the memories I still have fresh in my mind today? Of school? Of friends? Of life? What of this semester will I recall? Will I remember apples?

This semester I’ve been taking apple slices with me on mornings I have classes at Moorpark. I usually eat them on the drive to class, or in my first class. In this context, each bite sends me back to a memory from the past. Back when I was going to kindergarten and 1st grade in Lausanne, Switzerland. We used to get a free apple each morning for our “nutrition” break. We would walk down into the basement of the school, down in the bomb shelter where the apples were kept. After a very brief wait in a short line we would stick out our hands and an adult would plop down a nice golden-green apple into our palms. With some feeling of joy I would head back up the stairs to the first floor of the school complex and head through glass doors that would always be propped open. I’d make my way to one of many brick walls, which in a cube shape, surrounded a generic dark-green bush and took a seat if weather permitted.

I would sit or stand there slowly eating my apple while watching the rest of the students play and run around. I’d stare at the ground and study the dark gray tiles that composed the playground area. Each day I would manage to time my eating of the apple such that I would finish the apple just as the break came to an end. As the bell rang a mellow blum-blum-blum I would make my way back towards my classroom on the first floor for kindergarten or the second floor for 1st grade. My hands would always be sticky from the apple and I would lick my fingers as I walked back through the still propped-open glass doors quickly being surrounded by a herd of other students making their own ways back to their classes. I remember seeing my hands as I licked them, and the ground as I walked.

Back then, whenever I was away from home, it was always me in a physical sense, and myself in a mental sense. My thoughts and my conscience where my friends. I didn’t feel lonely in my head. Things have changed. Technology, too.

I’ve been using instant messaging since day one. I’d much rather talk to someone via IM than on the phone. There is a whole virtual sphere of social behaviour in my life that I could have never imagined back in Lausanne while I ate my apple during break. Should I find it odd that I feel less “alone” when I see a friend online, and not away than when they’re offline? When talking with someone in person, I usually get a sense of another conscience, another presence. I don’t feel alone. At the same time, I think I fall into one of the first generations to feel this sense of virtual-presence on a just-as-satisfactory level chatting online. Or maybe not? Of course there is no contest between online chat and real life communication, but I find it odd that I can feel a sense of companionship just chatting with people online. That I feel good when I see a friend sign on, that I feel less alone when I see someone come back from being away. I suppose it’s a good example of my socially oriented being reacting and adapting to evolving technology.

Whether online or offline, whether in a virtual context or one in reality I think communicating with people, especially meeting and befriending new people is like walking on an exciting social-tightrope. Always on my mind is how to balance and what the balance is between talking about oneself and inquiring about the other parties. I worry that if I’m constantly talking about myself people might think I’m arrogant and self-absorbed. I worry that if I never say anything about myself I might appear inaccessible. That quiet, mysterious guy with long hair. Hah!

I’ve walked myself into a wall. I’m not sure where to go with this entry and the time continues to pass and pass as I sit here and ponder, loosing myself in a fantastic world of thought and no-thought in my mind.. Memories are special possessions.. I wonder how they'll evolve as time moves on, I wonder why they come flooding back. I've been reliving many memories from Lausanne lately. I don't think I've ever really thought about them in the way I am now. Perhaps more will come of them. I wonder..



A few days ago I stumbled across the music of Regina Spektor on some website I have now forgotten and I rather like what I’ve heard. I’ll end this entry with some of her lyrics.

Regina Spektor - Field Below

I wish I'd see a field below
i wish I'd hear a rooster crow
But there are none who live downtown
And so the day starts out so slow
Again the sun was never called
And darkness spreads over the snow
Like ancient bruises
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
I wish I'd see a field below

I wish I'd see your face below
I wish I'd hear you whispering low
But you don't live downtown no more
And everything must come and go

Again the sun was never called
And darkness spreads over the snow
Like ancient bruises
I'm awake and feel the ache
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
But I wish I'd see a field below
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
I'm awake and feel the ache
But I wish I'd see a field below
I wish I'd see a field below
I wish I'd see a field below

Some relevant links to image galleries related to this entry:
Images 2006:/From throughout the year
Parent Directory
2006-11-25 (28 images in 0 directories)
2006-11-26 (51 images in 0 directories)