"I'm gonna base this moment on who I'm stuck in a room with. It's what life is. It's a series of rooms. And who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are."
^ That's when I can move back into Stonehill for the year. Or at least it was when I started this post. I'm considerably far less packed than I was at this point last year...I don't even know where to start/how I even did it last year. I suppose what would be a good start is to rid my room of any clothing that I know I'll never wear, and then separate what's left into school/home clothing. And then bring my sweatpants, of course, my lone pair of jeans, and anything else I can think of. Next would be knickknacks (Editor's Note: No way should there be that many k's in "knickknacks."), which I could probably start this weekend, because I won't be using any of them in my room, since they're purely for swagification. The big stuff like bedding and....whatever else constitutes as big stuff, I'll prolong until probably next weekend. I've already got some sweet posters for the room, too. And by posters, I mean stuff I got at Game 6 of the Stanley Cup, and a sweet poster of Kevin Youkilis that Vicki and I stole...borrowed from the T one time. Which reminds me - I'll also be bringing my xBox, so me and James can play NHL11 four times a day. Which will be good, because I've used my xBox probably six times since I graduated high school.
But if realizing that there aren't a lot of days left until I'm at school for the year, then meeting up with Vicki at school last night definitely did it. I can also safely say that I can get to and from school sans GPS now (granted, it's all highway and all I have to do is remember where to get off two exits), and that I'm mega pumped to be living at Villa this year. Especially when I can walk 20 feet to the study room, look out the window, and see Corr and New Hall and how majestic those buildings are. (Disclaimer: majestic really isn't the first word I would use to describe those res halls. I just can't think of anything, so I revert to sarcasm.) And with people I know in Corr and New Hall, I'm sure I'll be getting to see the majesty of it from the inside, too. (Second Disclaimer: I'm starting to not like "majestic" as a description. Oh well.)
But for now, I must wait. 10 days, 1 hour, 27 minutes.
"And who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are."
Allow me to take this quote a little further. It's not only who is in our rooms, but what we're doing in them, and how it's being done, and all of the other components of being in a room. Take that for all it is. What do you want that to be? How do you want that to affect your life? If our life is the sum of who we get stuck in those rooms with, then how do you want your life to be? Think about it. Think about whether or not you want certain rooms to be a part of your life. Rooms you've been in in the past can't be left. Regrets, arguments, whatever it is, can't be erased. But you can stop yourself before you enter one of those rooms in the future. If you foresee trouble in a room, then don't go in. Try and find a better place to be.
Think about what you want your life to be. Don't try and arrange your rooms so that it aligns with your mental blueprint - instead, be consciously aware of your surroundings before you enter a room. We are all faced with difficult choices and challenges in life. But to make the most of it, you just have to be in the right room.
So I know this is three days overdue, but spending time with my girlfriend takes precedence over blogging. Although there was one time I blogged about spending time with my girlfriend while I was with her...so I guess that's okay. ANYWAY. Me and Vicki went to the John Butler Trio concert at the Bank of America Pavilion on Friday night, and OH MY GOD it was so awesome. It was the perfect combination of the roots/folk music they play and the jam band stuff where it's just ten minutes of pounding your foot along to the beat...I was literally biting my lower lip harder every second as each jam kept growing. The highlight of the night was obviously when John Butler played Ocean and was the only person on stage. I've listened to enough versions of Ocean on YouTube where I have a pretty good feel for what part he's gonna play next - listen to a few versions yourself and I bet you'll be able to figure it out. This version of Ocean was like a perfect compilation of every version I've seen on YouTube, so it was really easy for me to get completely lost in the song. Easy for Vicki, too. We may or may not have been, but definitely were, crying for about half the song. Her more than me though :) But it's okay, I asked her to make sure I could say that. What I especially love about Ocean is that you can tell when John Butler's gonna play it. He was talking about his troubles back home in Australia, and all of the Democrats and Republicans fighting. (At this point, I thought he was going to play Revolution.) And then he talked about how it's not about that, it's about how we're all people. (Well it has to be Ocean now.) And, I dunno, I just started getting teary-eyed halfway through haha. (Editor's Note: I feel like I'm describing this to someone over Facebook chat. When was the last time I laughed in a blog post?) But by the end of the song, I could tell that the scratchy outro strum was coming, and I just started laughing. In hindsight, I think I found it silly to be crying over such a thing, even if it was for a pleasant reason. These things should be embraced, should be let free to roam throughout your body, mind, and spirit, should be ringing in your ears at your beck and call.
It's not the best video quality ever, but it's not about that. It's about the song and the chilling energy it drives inside you. 6:45 to 8:20.
Every 6th week of the summer at camp, we have Color Wars, which pits four (five in previous years) teams against each other in a week-long...I dunno...we just do games and stuff against each other all week. I can't really put a noun to what Color Wars is. It's just Color Wars. This is my fourth (if I am correct) year doing Color Wars, out of my 6 at camp, and I've yet to win the whole thing. There's a giant banner that we hang in the cafeteria during the week to see each year's team winner, and all of the staff and campers that won (they get to write their names on the banner too). Some of the events we do include field events (wheelbarrow races, sprints, potato sack races), trivia, musical chairs, counselor dress-up, pie-eating contests, obstacle courses, and tug of war. I lied when I said that Color Wars runs all week - the last day is always Thursday, because usually the camp sleepover is that night, and everyone would be exhausted on Friday. But Color Wars gets real Wednesday afternoon.
Wednesday afternoon is when musical chairs and scooter races happen. It's the turning point between "there's still time" and "we need to win NOW" in Color Wars. And it's always the counselor musical chairs game that sets the tone. Everyone gets extremely into it, everyone looks on with deep intensity, and it's always louder as the game progresses. The obstacle course is always a nail-biter, as well, but the main event is and always will be tug of war.
Thankfully in years past I haven't been relied on to do tug of war, because...you know...I suck at it. But I think that will have to change this year, but hey - I'll do what it takes to bring home a Color Wars title.
Oh another thing - all of the counselors get to wear their team color instead of the usual staff shirts. So of course I got my entire wardrobe settled for this week - I'm on blue, so of course I had to break out the Nolan Smith jersey today. And there are of course the beads, bandanas, hats, and anything else blue you can find. I think our team is faring pretty well so far, but tomorrow's obviously the biggest day of the week. This sounds like a really choppy blog post, but whatever - there isn't one good way to explain what Color Wars is - you just have to experience it for yourself.
I've wanted to talk about this fantastic music for a while now, so I'm going to post the song for each of the twelve songs on the Mumford and Sons album, Sigh No More. I'll talk about it for a couple sentences and divulge my favorite part. Everyone needs to hear this music, so make sure you do. And tell your friends. And then tell the people you don't like.
1. Sigh No More. What I first noticed about the album is that there was one harmony verse that I thought appeared in four songs, this one belonging to that group. It's an overall good song with an awesome yelling part near the end (a huge theme in this album). Favorite part: In the second half of the song, it's easy to see the guitar riff repeated, but my favorite time it happens is from 2:17 to 2:23.
2. The Cave. One of their most popular songs, "The Cave" is another epicly built-up song, with more yelling at the end. (Seriously, the loud endings are a huge theme in the album. It's awesome.) And it's also mega fun to play on the guitar. Favorite part: The second part of the second verse from 1:31 to 1:44. I just love the clashing of the cymbals and the pounding beat of the drums.
3. Winter Winds. This is another super-catchy tune, and it's definitely due to the mandolin throughout the song. What's interesting is that the music video (not posted here (it wasn't 100% accurate to the version I wanted)) has absolutely nothing to do with the meaning of the song. Either way...still a great tune. Favorite part: It has to be the pickup at 2:43, when everything goes silent except for the brass, until that crash and coming together of the rest of the instruments.
4. Roll Away Your Stone. I've been calling it for weeks that this song is going to be their next single (after Little Lion Man, The Cave, and Awake My Soul), and I still think I'll be right. This is even more catchier than Winter Winds, AND it has a Macbeth reference! What more could I ask for?! Favorite part: The part leading up to the bridge, where the song goes into a cross-beat from 2:53 to 3:04. That's just so much fun to play on the drums-slash-steering-wheel while driving.
5. White Blank Page. This is the second song where I thought about the harmony verse, but it isn't this song either. Although this song does have a great harmony verse, from 1:27 to 1:50. The rest of the verse goes on, but I like that part in particular. (And for those paying attention to the lyrics, it's not "sent you to the grave." It should be "brink.") Favorite part: Nothing beats loud harmony. Nothing. 3:01 to 3:35. And for the record, the hard-to-keep-count-with 6/8 time is also awesome. This whole song is just awesome. This whole band is just awesome.
6. I Gave You All. This song is dreary and haunting, which makes it so powerful and awesome. (You'll see throughout this post that there is literally nothing I find wrong with any song on this album.) The guitar always plays an important role in each song, and in I Gave You All, it keeps time through the verses, and pretty much the whole song, actually. I love hearing the slide of fingers on the steel strings, too. Favorite part: It's actually not the loudest part this time - instead, it's from 3:11 to 3:46 where the bass drum pounds again. I love how Marcus (the lead singer) sings "now you've won" both times, and how it fades into that quiet chorus again.
7. Little Lion Man. It's good to actually see a music video, so you can see how into it these guys get. Little Lion Man is no exception, because these guys just bash away at their instruments. And let's get real...what's better than harmonizing the word "fucked?" Harmonizing entire bridges, that's what. Favorite part: Yep, the best part is the bridge from 2:49 to 3:32. The real favorite part is that one measure of pure a capella at 3:30, right before the headbanging chorus that leads to another chorus of a capella.
8. Timshel. This is the actual song that has the harmony verse, and it comes in the first few seconds of this song. If there's ever a song that I record all of the parts to, it will be this one. Unfortunately, that will probably never happen. Yet again, the car will have to suffice. Timshel is also one of the two songs on the album that doesn't have an epic loud part, but I kinda like it more than some others because of that. Favorite part: It's hard to find a favorite part when there's no loudness, but if there's any in this song, it comes at the guitar crescendo at 2:24.
9. Thistle and Weeds. This is secretly one of my favorite songs on the album - I say secretly because it has the best favorite part out of any song, I think. The lyrics in the chorus are also wonderfully spun into metaphorical advice, and the absolute most favorite thing I love to do in this song is yell "I will hold on" pretending like I'm in some Western movie where guys are chasing each other on horses and everything is in black and white. No, seriously. Favorite part: While the beginning of the awesomeness starts at 2:17, picks up at 2:29, and keeps going at 2:45, you can probably figure out that the best part is from 3:06 to 3:29.
10. Awake My Soul. This is simply a beautiful song with amazing lyrics and perfect harmonies and an overall great sound. I love the repetition of the guitar in the background. One part I want to highlight is the first chorus from 1:06 to 1:27. Those harmonies happen only once during the song, and it's awesome that it comes in the beginning, so every part of the song has a great part. One of the things I've noticed about the lyrics in this album is that they face death straight up - "In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die." There's no beating around the bush there - it's gonna happen, so you might as well make the most of it, and awake your soul. Favorite part: When Marcus's voice gets louder in the last chorus from 3:35 to the end of the song. What's strange about this is that it's clearly louder, but you don't hear that break of sound - it slurs perfectly from what he was singing before, which is something that I've almost never heard done, especially not flawlessly.
11. Dust Bowl Dance. This sounds a little like Thistle and Weeds; or at least has the same feeling about it, that Western feeling. Then again, that's where they had the giant Dust Bowl storm or something like that. The beat of the chorus is really awesome, and this is another pretty haunting song. Favorite part: It's easily the crash of the cymbals from 3:07 to 3:22, the one-two of the drums from 3:22 to 3:30, the pounding percussion from 3:30 to 3:38, and then of course the cymbals again from 3:38 to 4:10. It's a minute of pure amazing.
12. After the Storm. This is quietly one of the most beautiful songs on the album (no pun intended, because this is the other song with no loud parts). The lyrics are simply amazing, and the accordion/organ/i-think-it's-an-accordion fades perfectly into and around the song. It's a great last song of the night to listen to, I think. It leaves a contented feeling left over once the song's done. Favorite part: There's a crescendo during the transition between choruses at the end, right from 3:20 to 3:23.
So there you have it - all twelve songs on the album. Hopefully a few stuck out to you, and it was enough for you to download a handful, if not the entire album. If you have your own thoughts on any songs, feel free to leave a comment! Expectations are low, so if you feel like pleasantly surprising me, now is your opportunity.
So after three parts of my This I Believe series of posts, I am 125 pages in to the 259 pages worth of essays, so there should be about 3 or 4 more posts of excerpts from my reading. On an entirely semi-unrelated note, the word "excerpts" has joined "acknowledged" on the list of most challenging words to type. (Yes, this list is currently two words long.)
(Allison, Jay, and Dan Gediman. This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women. New York: This I Believe, 2006. Print.)
- "Einstein once wrote, "The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious."...What did Einstein mean by "the mysterious"?...I think that he meant a sense of awe, a sense that there are things larger than us, that we don't have all the answers at this moment. A sense that we can stand right at the boundary between known and unknown and gaze into that cavern and be exhilarated rather than frightened."
Besides the wonderful crafting of the words of these sentences, this paragraph struck me. Hard. I've always had a small (and by small, I mean enormous) fear of the unknown. That we will never know those things larger than us, and that we will never find all the answers.But recently (since college), I think that I've started to grow away from that fright, and gravitate ever so gradually towards exhilaration. Maybe that's not the best word for it, but it's what I'm going with right now. I've become more fascinated with questions of science, or the world around us, and questions that have no answer. Religion fits into that category, too. Leave it to the math major to try and figure out the answer to whatever he can, but I kind of like knowing that there isn't an answer. It means we can use any explanation we want and there will be some validity. It means we can gaze into that cavern instead of know it as invisible. And it means that "there is no answer" becomes the answer to those questions. See? There's always an answer. Sometimes it's just that there isn't one.
- "It's not that we find truth with a big 'T.' We investigate and sometimes we find things out and sometimes we don't. There's no way to know in advance. It's just that we have to proceed as though there are answers to questions. We must proceed as though, in principle, we can find things out - even if we can't. The alternative is unacceptable."
Well, if that's not a direct contrast to the above passage, then I don't know what is. Although I think that these two concepts are a little different from each other - we can still pursue an answer to a question, and ultimately conclude that there is no answer. "We can't know for sure" should be the end of an argument, not the beginning of one. If it's the beginning of an argument, then what's the point in backing that up? That sentence is all you need, and really have, which makes for a pretty boring discourse. However, if you were to search for this answer tirelessly with the belief that one exists, and then see futility in your efforts to discover the truth, well, that's okay with me.
Despite there being only two excerpts in this post, I did manage to read more than the approximately 30 pages I usually do for these posts. And I find it incredibly interesting and worthy of a point for hindsight symbolism (yes, I'm done capitalizing that) that the only two passages I posted were about not finding the answer, and absolutely finding the answer. Cool, non?
So this idea has been fresh in my head for a couple of weeks now, and it's finally time that I internally dialogue. Think about where you are in your life. The people you know, the friendships and relationships that you've made, the choices you've made...literally everything. I believe that for you to be in the exact place you're at in your life right now, everything that has happened to you in your years of life had to happen that exact way. It's similar to the butterfly effect. Sure, if one thing was off a handful of years ago, you might still be in >99% the same place you're at right now. But you wouldn't be 100% in the same place. Everything in your past is necessary for you to be where you are now. It's pretty simple when you think about it, but also very cosmical. I mean think about it - there are literally an infinite number of possibilities for the culmination of your life, but one out of those possibilities actually happened - this one.
Now there are two things I want to address with this idea - first off (this isn't even one of the things I want to talk about - think of this like "thing zero"), this is what I mean when I refer to Hindsight Symbolism. (For anyone who knows my Facebook religious views by heart, I believe in events as symbols that help guide me in the future. It's my own constructed belief/name and I'm sticking with it.) This isn't the same thing as predetermination at all, however. I do not believe that the rest of our lives are set in stone for us, and I do believe in free will. The claim I'm making here is that everything that's happened in our past was the only way to make us who we are in the exact present right now.
The other thing I want to talk about is the phrase "everything happens for a reason." That doesn't have to come into play with Hindsight Symbolism, because things that are seemingly unfavorable are just necessary parts to put you in the place you're in right now. (Editor's Note: The more I see "Hindsight Symbolism" capitalized, the less I want to capitalize it.) There's no need to rationalize it and see the good in the bad - just accept the bad for what it is and move on from there. One of the greatest pieces of advice I've read was in The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch - "We cannot change the cards we're dealt; just how we play the hand." If you wake up in the morning and realize you're all out of the usual breakfast food, don't fret or complain about that - instead, have some cereal or something (unless cereal is your usual breakfast food. Then breakfast is futile).
Anyway, back to my point. Think of your life like a timeline. Most timelines we're familiar with are horizontal and straight. This one is too, but what's hidden is the realm of possibilities that never happened in your life - not going to school that one time, buying that really expensive thing you wanted....everything that isn't part of that timeline is speculation now. What exists in our lives is only that timeline, and we need to stay on that line knowing that what lies behind us might not necessarily have been for the best, but for the present. We couldn't have gotten here without the past, and we won't get to where we are in the future without what happens to us in the present.
Because what's better than reading at the beach? (Many things. Alas, this book is actually good and I enjoy reading it.)
(Allison, Jay, and Dan Gediman. This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women. New York: This I Believe, 2006. Print.)
- "...it was okay to be perplexed, to be torn by issues, to look at the world and not feel inadequate because it would not sort itself out cleanly. In the company of the confident, I had always envied their certainty...But in time, I came to accept, even embrace, what I called 'my confusion,' and to recognize it as a friend and ally, no apologies needed."
As I was reading this, I couldn't help but think that it exactly pertained to me. Namely with matters of religion. I've always had uncertain beliefs, and I've been certain of my uncertainty, but I've never actually embraced it. I've had talks all the way up and down the spectrum about God and religion and what have you, but have maintained my "we can't really ever know" belief. I usually regress to Candide's philosophy of cultivating our garden and not worrying about philosophizing, but I find these talks to be a sort of way of shaping my beliefs, and fine-tuning what they are. Whatever they may be.
- "Presence is a noun, not a verb; it is a state of being, not doing. States of being are not highly valued in a culture that places a high priority on doing. Yet, true presence of 'being with' another person carries with it a silent power - to bear witness to a passage, to help carry an emotional burden, or to begin a healing process. In it, there is an intimate connection with another that is perhaps too seldom felt in a society that strives for ever-faster 'connectivity.'"
I don't think I could put this any better. "Silent power" perfectly describes the feeling I have when I see someone hours or days after a powerful conversation. Nothing is said, but you both know about the conversation you had recently, and the power that is carried with it. And the phrase "presence is a noun" sounds like something that would sound good as the title of a poem.
- "I don't believe anyone can enjoy living in this world unless he can accept its imperfection. He must know and admit that he is imperfect, that all other mortals are imperfect, that it is childish to allow these imperfections to destroy all his hope and all his desire to live."
Every time I hear the word imperfection, I always think about that scene at the end of Inception, and then realize that perfection and imperfection have nothing to do with each other in that scene.But the man who wrote this essay is absolutely right - life isn't perfect. If it were, then there wouldn't be any good music. But just because something not be 100% the way you hope it is, doesn't mean that it's not good. In fact, I think that perfection comes from imperfection, as paradoxical as that might sound (although by now you should know that I love paradoxes). So accept the things that aren't perfect in your life. They just might be a different kind of perfect.
...then that includes our planet, too. In my self-philosophy post, I talked about how it mathematically makes sense that there exists life on other planets, due to the infinite nature of the universe. Well, if you believe that Earth is the only place in the universe where life exists, then that's one out of an infinite number of planets, and one divided by infinity is zero in the math world. So, if you believe that life doesn't exist on other planets, make sure you include Earth on that list. Although it might be easier to reassess your beliefs.
Go ahead. Try not to do it. It will probably last you a minute in some situations, if that. Communicating drives our world more than we think. And it comes in so many different forms and ways that it's simply astounding. I'm communicating something right now on my blog, but I could just as easily have this conversation in person with someone. Or over the phone, or texting. Or in Spanish, French, or with sign language (if I knew Spanish and sign language). Or even the I'm-going-to-grunt-and-point-at-the-fridge-but-my-mom-will-still-know-I-want-food language that parents know so well. When I was thinking about the idea of communication earlier, I figured that I'd have a lot more to write about than this. But thinking about it now, I don't really need to say a lot. I've communicated my point. (Although by that theory, I should have ended my post four sentences in.) It's just up to you now to communicate with yourself and see what you think on the matter.
And by posters, I mean stuff I got at Game 6 of the Stanley Cup, and a sweet poster of Kevin Youkilis that Vicki and I stole...borrowed from the T one time. Which reminds me - I'll also be bringing my xBox, so me and James can play NHL11 four times a day. Which will be good, because I've used my xBox probably six times since I graduated high school.
