Garden State

There is a scene at the start of the film, Garden State, where Zach Braff’s character, Andrew, is sitting on an airplane. He is assembled between two older women, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, his eyes completely glazed over. Andrew, subdued and apathetic, was on his way to his mother’s funeral. All of a sudden, the scene takes a drastic plunge into chaos. The plane begins to tremble, people scream out in terror, debris dashes from side to side, and the flight attendants beg for some sort of control. While this is all happening, a simple, yet beautiful melody plays in the background, drowning out the chaotic mess, letting the audience merely watch the pandemonium, rather than listen to it. And during all this time, Andrew remains idle, unaffected, and immersed into the feeling of nothingness. On April 12th, 2010, I boarded a Southwest airplane in Oakland. Its destination was Scottsdale, Arizona. In less than 24 hours, I was to attend the funeral of Connor Grimes Redd. While sitting on the plane, I thought about the past two weeks of my life. It was Spring Break, life was lovely, I was home, surrounded by love, accompanied by friendship and laughter. Holy Thursday rolled around and it was time to attempt to complete some sort of school work instead of cramming it all in the night before. I fled to the library, promising myself I would get something done. Who knew my life was going to change drastically in a matter of minutes. It was April 1st, also known as April Fools. It was one o’clock in the afternoon,when I received a text message from my friend. It was a simple text, just a few words, just like any other. All it said was, “Horrible news: Connor Redd died”. What? Connor? Connor who was my resident upstairs in the fall, now studying abroad in Italy. Connor who I had classes with, who I was in the Honors Program with. Connor, who was my dear friend, who was everything a man should be and more. How could that Connor be gone? Connor was supposed to be my resident every year, we had a plan. We complained how hard the honors program was and how we didn’t know how we were going to survive another semester. When it snowed in Moraga in December, we celebrated together with friends, claiming that this was the best night we ever experienced in Ageno B. Connor promised me that night that he would be careful in Italy, that he would see me in the fall of next year and would patiently await our future adventures. This blatant, new fact was overwhelming to comprehend. It just didn’t seem real, nor possible. We are young, we are alive, we are invincible. And yet, we are merely human. Our lives can end in a matter of seconds. Connor was 20 years old. As I sat on that plane, I felt utterly empty. The funeral came and went. Those two days were a complete blur. My heart was aching. Negativity and apathy drenched my entire being and every momentary glimpse of happiness, I would just turn into hopelessness. Everything in my life at that moment felt so uncertain. And yet, even at my lowest, my darkest hours, for some strange reason, there is a twinkling light that urges me forward. When I just want to give up, call it quits, and proclaim to the world that it’s just not worth it, that humans are inherently evil, something stops me, and not just stops me, but screams fiercely into my ears, “Porsia, not yet! Do not lose hope now, not when you know life is worth fighting for, that people are worth fighting for, that love is worth fighting for.” And when I yell back, “You are wrong! Life merely disappoints. I have lost people I loved. People I know have died and will die. I’m not smart enough, I’m not pretty enough, I’m not good enough…” The voice doesn’t give up that easily. It ignores my ridiculous, childlike banter and simply states, “I love you, and that is enough.” Then I realize, at that moment, life is utterly beautiful, that life is completely worth it, and that the good is vastly triumphant. Loss will occur, but the time before that loss is inherently wonderful. And although this moment is fleeting and tomorrow I may need to be reminded once again by a friend, a quote, an experience; I believe in the power of the pursuit of the dream. The dream that one day there will be clear evidence that the world is actually healing, actually changing, actually becoming once again whole. When we are broken, when our lives undergo uncertainty, when our surroundings become uprooted, when we lose people we love, we start to shake in our boots. We cry out and plead for clarity and unity, for an easy remedy and perfection. But trudging through the bleeding desert sands and swimming through the violent waves of the unforgiving ocean, reminds us of our human capabilities. That we are able to overcome trial and tribulation, that through our deep convictions and undying spirits, we can be triumphant; we can witness small displays of love, of equality, of peace. If the pathway to wholeness and health was easy, we would never realize our potential, our ability to go beyond settling for mere contentment; rather, we reach for the stars, we reach for the dream. We continue the memories of those we have lost along the way. We trudge on. We love. We Make Connor proud.

patent pending.

Having something you need to write about is the equivalent of crossing your legs and bouncing awkwardly when you really have to pee, or waiting for someone’s reaction when you’ve sent them a gift. it’s this annoying shield that blankets your mind and your thoughts with an opaque layer, suspending all other inquiries until the matter at bay is resolved.

As was expected, for the past few days as I attempted to align the wheels of my shitty, but beloved Ford explorer with the dashing yellow lines dividing the lanes on the 101, as I carefully avoided the uneven layers of pavement on my runs, and as I waited in line for a highly overrated blended coffee drink, I have mulled over in my head the idea of apathy.

It’s a curious thing. Because occasionally I allow myself to fall into the persona of the cliché tragic poet. Who feels for the purpose of feeling. Whether it be woes or joys. You know that dramatic writer who allows simple thoughts to extrapolate ecstasy from a mere simple pleasure or exacerbate a paper-cut into a full-blown wound? The one who loves to be in love. Or sees pain as the seed for a budding masterpiece. I have to be mindful of those days. But after that verbose paragraph, I guess what I’m getting at, is that I don’t see the point of a life without thought and consequential feeling. So, although many consider pain the greater evil, I would like to argue that apathy takes that cake.

For once, I paid attention to the “No return beyond this point” sign on my way to baggage claim. I hate things that pound a sense of finality into you. Obviously, no return to Ithaca for a while. Strike one. No return to the simplicity of freshmen year. Strike two. What called me out, was perhaps the thought of no return to who I was before. Not that I necessarily wanted to return to that person, but change always leaves you with some sense of loss. Then there’s the whole “beyond” ordeal.

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."-Nelson Mandela

That was what was beyond. And as I stepped onto LA territory, I realized I was treading unfamiliar territory.

I’m not one to be apathetic. While some pride themselves on their bodies (athletes), intelligence, beauty, talent, I have always been happy with my ability to empathize, to listen, to love. So this silence was unnerving. And like one of those sputtering, shitty cars running out of gas (oh wait, that would be mine), my words and ideas are slowly approaching a hault.

I guess I’ll get back to you when I’ve checked out what’s under the hood.

Olin

As i sit, what feels like, atop the world, staring over the (Finger) Lakes (maybe?), taking in the perfect contrast of the aged stone and lush green foliage, marveling at how Cornell can be so breathtaking in what most would call terrible May weather, i find myself amused at how the beginning and the end so often coincide.

While I have been studying, procrastinating, but mostly procrastinating in several variations of library, many have been folding clothes neurotically, throwing out junk acquired through random school-sponsored events, burning statistic books, taping boxes shut, and sealing their first year of college with suppressed tears and reluctant goodbyes.

A sense of finality is established as the door is shut and the key (that you probably lost or left at some random frat a number of times throughout the year) is slipped between the centimeter separating the door and dirty college dorm carpet. The last snapshot in your mind of the place you called home for the last 9 months perhaps brings with it a flood of fond, not-so-long ago memories.

The first time you sucked it up and spoke to the freak who found herself magnetically attracted to the floor. or the girl lying under a tye-dye blanket, only introducing her(intoxicated)self after popping her head out from beneath in a turtle-like fashion. or the boy whose first words to you were "is it ok if i take of my shirt really quickly" and somehow ended up being your best friend and support system.

the nights of sloppily stumbling back home from frat parties (that you waited in line for absurd amounts of time to get into) only to ask your friends what they remembered the next morning over brunch, in order to piece together the crazy antics of your hallmates, are over.

the first snow has melted, the initial innocence dissipated, and the you you knew has been upgraded (or maybe downgraded, considering the obscene amounts of unhealthy beverages consumed).

Your last nine months have been characterized by shots, of espresso and classy Svedka. but those shots have been consumed alongside your new family. the family YOU get to choose, you friends.

so now you go back into the real world for 3 months, a different person, alone. without your crew.

some of us go back to the familiar, to discover for themselves the way they have changed. perhaps a small bubble in Connecticut to find that pining for acceptance is unnecessary, that being worried that people won't love you for who you are is pointless, because the right people, the one's who smile when hearing your repetitive drunk phrase for the night, may not be wearing Lily Pullitzer, may be hippies or Jews, may not reside in Stepford, CT, but exist nonetheless.

some of us don't have a far trek home at all, maybe the townies have the trickiest task. because their reality and paradise are separated by a very fine line. perhaps their struggle is the worst, how do you notice a change in yourself, without having a standard of comparison?

and then, there are some who find themselves stepping in unfamiliar territory, voluntarily. leaving the past in the past. and moving forward.

haha, so serious a talk, what a sharp contrast, im getting my ideas straightened out in my head, and behind me there is a cute asian lying on the floor, her boyfriend laughing, and loads of social psychology waiting for me to memorize it.

anywho.

babes was right.

running away is not moving forward, but sometimes moving forward means running away.

running? fuck, i feel like I'm sprinting.

sprinting when everyone else has started their cool down.

you know what else, there is no time to look back right now, i'll lose speed.

if you're in the cool-down, if you're walking, drifting, hell if you're sitting, breathe and enjoy it. , you'll have your time to sprint, ill have my time to drift.

move forward.

Give life a kidney shot, and chase after your dreams!

Sam,

I guess I should ask what it exactly means: “living for others”? This year I have realized that it is absolutely impossible living for oneself. What I mean by that statement is this: Despite what many may tell you, everything you chose to do, say, ect, effects not only yourself but all those around you. For the good, for the bad. We are all affected by one another. John Donne once said, “No man is an island…”

With this being said, that doesn’t mean you cannot achieve personal happiness or search for that one thing that makes you come alive, because in doing so, in the end, you will make others come alive.

Here’s my philosophy, there must be a balance. If you do everything for yourself then you forget about the common good for all. And if you do everything for everyone else, then you forget about following your own passions and desires that can then benefit others.  For example, in the pursuit of finding love, you are doing it for your own happiness, but the end result is a beautiful love that many will be able to witness and share in. So perhaps at first it is for yourself, but in the end it is for all.

There is a time where you must venture out on your own and find your own adventure and self-discovery. Sometimes others will be upset or may not understand, but time will give them clarity and all will be all right. It’s almost like a cost-benefit analysis. At what cost are you willing to do something else? And yet at the same time, one must do what makes them come alive or there is no purpose to life. We must live together, we must support each other, we must save each other. But we must save ourselves first before we can help anyone else… 

amorvincitomnia.

eat, drink, be merry?

Dear Red,

I know ive spent my entire life living for others. with all that's been going on in your life lately, i've watched you live your life for other people. but just the other day, my brother asked me, encouraged me, to live for myself. he said this is all we have, and if you base your choices on the judgment of others, youll miss out on the golden years.

heres my dilemma, do i live for others, or do i finally start living for myself?

must they be separate entities?

because it seems to be that way.

if i continue to base all my actions on the good of others, i will live a relatively guilt-free life. I will feel good in an arguably self-righteous manner. I will be proud of my actions. but i wont be necessarily doing what brings happiness or pleasure. and i know what youre thinking Red, because im thinking it too... really Sam? you think pleasure is the basis of happiness?

maybe?

not always. thus far ive told myself happiness is found in love of others, but what happens when what needs to be done out of love for others is self-destructive?

i'm finding myself tiptoeing this fine line as of late.

ok, so lets assume i choose to live for myself, then i will be consumed by guilt. its just who i am.

so im screwed???

whats your take on this smorshe?

amorvincitomnia? i am trying to convince myself so.

Love,

Sam

Mike.

Dear Red,

The past week has been an emotional blur.

I have taken my first selfish step.

does that make me a stronger, independent adult, or have I begun reverting to childish egocentric behavior?

Exiting a relationship is a sticky situation. Wreckless in the sense that you know damage will be done on the counterpart and yourself, but you have to pick who you value more. And Red, you know I've been taught/have tried to live my entire life for other people.

I feel bad for him. I wish I could capture all his pain in its entirety and take it upon myself or at least get rid of it.

but.

I've also realized I have become a risk taker.

Something I've never thought i would see next to my name.

Sam, Risk-taker.

you know you hear those stories of people opting out of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, to chase something very improbable, but something that they are irrevocably passionate about.

I have become that person, and what I am chasing is that passionate, all-consuming, honest, eternal, perhaps idealistic, but ecstasy-inducing happiness that is love.

He was amazing. A dying breed really, the chances of me coming across another so respectful and selfless and loving are few, but I cannot reciprocate as I wish to. And I really did want to.

sorry if i sound like a bitch.

But i took the risk and walked away.

I am chasing the real thing Red.

I am chasing true love.

As for him, if you are reading this, or ever happen to stumble across it, I hope you find true love too. Find someone who looks forward to you every minute of everyday. Who embraces every awkward gesture or trademark phrase. Who remembers that you don't like inefficiency but love challenges. Who will love everything about you, not being blind to your flaws, but loving you regardless of whether you have them. I hope you find someone who you are everything too and I hope she finds you too. I am sorry, but Im looking for this too. So good luck in your endeavor for the real thing. Every ounce of me hopes that you find it.

I will think of you every time I think of true love, in the hopes that you will find it.

One more thing to keep in mind...

"No, this is how it works: You peer inside yourself, You take the things you like, And try to love the things you took, And then you take that love you made, And stick it into some, Someone else's heart, Pumping someone else's blood, And walking arm in arm, You hope it don't get harmed, But even if it does, You'll just do it all again..."

Red, you and I have usually been on the same side of the fence, we walk arm in arm with someone, hope we dont get harmed, but do.

We always ALWAYS do it all again though.

we always will.

but this time, i have a new bit of knowledge. I have been the one to walk away and do the harming, and I apologized, and I will as many times is asked of me. but sometimes the harmer isn't a villain, but an ambitious explorer, looking for too precious a treasure to settle for safety and return to shore, wealthy to some men, but empty to himself. Maybe this voyager knows he cannot rest til he has found what he has set out for, and waves will be trampled underneath, friends will be lost in what they call his insanity, but he knows the risks are necessary.

Maybe at the end of the day, it isn't about arriving at shore with something tangible, but knowing that you are willing to journey to the ends of the earth, and even if you haven't found what you're looking for, even if you don't ever find true love, you have experienced the ecstasy of getting closer every time, and the satisfaction of knowing that you have done all that you can. That you love the quest for love. and that you love to love.

how much closer do you need to get? if you can love, then you've got your compass, and your journey will already be fulfilling.

The Scientist

"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I've set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh, let's go back to the start"

my intention was not to exclude you.

I do not think you are a person who hates. But i think you do have trouble accepting, or supporting my decision to join a sorority. and i understand and respect that. I also understand that one should not make assumptions about people one has not had the opportunity to meet. If you would like to take up my behavior with me, go for it, in fact i think you are more than justified to do so given my recent behavior.

3 weeks ago, maybe i was that person who valued social status more than it should be, and obsessed over appearance, and drank away her woes.

but things change.

its funny, ive never really thought i had a childhood, i assumed that i had done all the growing up I could already, but life proved me wrong.

"nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be so hard, I'm going back to the start"

I know that people care about me, not to sound egocentric, I know i have you, and steph, and matt, and mike, and julian, and babes, and all my friends here and at home,

but Porsia,

I have never felt so alone.

The pressure of excelling here to break a cycle, the realization that this is my only way out, the quickly declining health of my mother, the worry that she is alone, the worry that i am the only one she has to take care of her and I am 3000 miles away, the responsibilities of the spouse i have taken on since infancy, the lack of someone or something to fall back on, the feeling of loneliness and of being misunderstood, the abandonment by my father, and the disappointment of my family, the injustice at work that the person i love most must face on a daily basis, and the scars of abuse in the past have surpassed metaphysical standards,

they are physically weighing me down.

and i can't breathe.

Atlas is doing his best to carry the weight on his shoulders.

He's panting and pulling through, but that doesn't mean there aren't tears rolling down his cheeks.

and then i wonder about my mom. the only thing i have. and life could've whisked her away in a heartbeat. literally.

Have I ever made her happy?

As for you, I am sorry, I know i have you, thats why I called you and left you a message, it was my instinct to call you.

but i feel like im straddling the line between trusting you and burdening you. It's a very fine line.

Know that I love you,

"I'm going back to the start"

to my core,

I can only deal with this all if I am myself, and I feel like I lost that person somewhere in all the alcohol and struggles and temptations,

so maybe its time to empty the cup and start over.

i really do hope amorvincitomnia.

Sincerely,

the Scientist.