She told him to pack away all his valuables into his cabinet, as though a cheap particalboard door that didn't even lock could stop someone from going through his posessions and taking whatever they pleased. He supposed that wasn't so much the point as to just get it out of plain sight, not that it mattered either way; he didn't keep valuables in his room. Ultimately, his parents were just being paranoid, a characteristic of them which he had grown accustomed go over the past 23 years of his life. He didn't see any need to worry even if he did have anything worth taking in his posession as the reason for this particular bought of parental paranoia (though these episodes were rarely ever really justified) was that a contractor was coming tomorrow to replace the old heating system.
He was more concerned for the heating system than anything else, to be honest. It was quite funny, actually. His parents worried about his valuables dissappearing and the only thing he really was concerned about at the moment was what they were paying thean to take away: the radiator.
The radiator was an old cast iron steam-heat radiator that hissed, clanked and transmitted sound solidly through it's hollow pipes around the house to any of the other 5 heaters connected to it throughout the house. They were heavy and combersome things and to him they were objects of beauty as they appeared to be a part of a dissappearing world. The old and outdated was to be replaced with new baseboards; a heating system that lacked the character and history of the soon to be realics of the past. He wished he could keep one of the radiators, but he already knew what his mom's response would be; "Don't be stupid, what are you going to do with it?"
Indeed, she was right, there was NO use he would ever have for it N it would just take up much needed space and create an inane amount of clutter. He was already enough of a pack-rat without trying to keep a giant piece of scrap metal. Ultimately the message was clear; Accept the impending change or be burried in a large mound of junk as you futilely attempt to recreate what has already passed.
Showing posts with label Change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Change. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Laziness or Loyalty?
He knew money wasn't everything, but right now it encompassed a good 70% of his field of vision. He had been out of school for a year now and was more or less in the same place he was 12 months ago; working for free, only now he had a low paying night job to give him some sort of pocket change.
This was a life style he was growing weary of, yet at the same time something was preventing him from really searching elsewhere for a change. He attributed it to his laziness and hoped that it was nothing more than that.
Laziness he could beat. It took a lot of effort, but he knew if he kicked his own ass enough he would get sick of the same old crap quickly enough to get up and do something about the predicament he was in. In short, Laziness could be likened to "Medusa" of the Gorgons; a rather difficult adversary to overcome, but one that could be defeated and killed, unlike her sisters. No, what he feared held him fast to his current lifestyle was of the worst kind; loyalty.
This loyalty was not in full, something felt out of gratefulness, friendship or anything of that sort, but rather felt more like Stockholm Syndrome, a strange phenomenon where a hostage begins to identify with and grow attached to his/her captors. Or perhaps this was a feeling of loyalty that sprouted out of the mere sense of familiarity. A habit is especially difficult to break, especially if its a bad one. Though, he rationalized, it wasn't all bad. There was some promise there. Once again, however, he feared he was putting all his eggs in one basket. Ultimately he wondered how his life would look 5 years down the line. He sincerely hoped that it would not be what it was now.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Leaving
She was probably asleep when the two arrived; unannounced and unexpected, mind you. Her bags were packed, save for a few items strewn about the dark apartment.
Perhaps it would have been more poignant if she were leaving an empty apartment; her own, empty apartment. Perhaps if that were the case it would have been just that more heart wrenching a scene, but the two bedroom one bathroom flat belonged not to her, but a kind family of four that lent her a roof and a bed while they visited elsewhere.
She was probably awoken by the sound of the buzzer; a sound she probably was not expecting for at least another hour.
Downstairs, a reverberating electric sound resonated through the small foyer of the several story apartment building as the two pushed open the front door and made their way up.
She opened the door to the apartment in a somewhat disheveled haze, welcoming her two unexpected visitors inside. Despite her disoriented state she seemed pleased to see them; friends who came to spend a final hour with her before she parted ways with the city in which she spent the past 5 years of her life.
The seconds gave way to minutes as time ticked away, steadily counting down until the time came for her to leave them. Despite that, most of their time together was spent in silence, the three of them just merely existing within a close proximity to each other. It was a tranquil silence; one that spoke all that needed to be said and did all that needed to be done. After all, the two visitors were not there to stir up conversation or reminisce about old times; they were there to merely be. She might be leaving the life she had lived for the past five years, but when the time came, she wouldn't be alone. It was a message, and maybe, it would be enough.
Perhaps it would have been more poignant if she were leaving an empty apartment; her own, empty apartment. Perhaps if that were the case it would have been just that more heart wrenching a scene, but the two bedroom one bathroom flat belonged not to her, but a kind family of four that lent her a roof and a bed while they visited elsewhere.
She was probably awoken by the sound of the buzzer; a sound she probably was not expecting for at least another hour.
Downstairs, a reverberating electric sound resonated through the small foyer of the several story apartment building as the two pushed open the front door and made their way up.
She opened the door to the apartment in a somewhat disheveled haze, welcoming her two unexpected visitors inside. Despite her disoriented state she seemed pleased to see them; friends who came to spend a final hour with her before she parted ways with the city in which she spent the past 5 years of her life.
The seconds gave way to minutes as time ticked away, steadily counting down until the time came for her to leave them. Despite that, most of their time together was spent in silence, the three of them just merely existing within a close proximity to each other. It was a tranquil silence; one that spoke all that needed to be said and did all that needed to be done. After all, the two visitors were not there to stir up conversation or reminisce about old times; they were there to merely be. She might be leaving the life she had lived for the past five years, but when the time came, she wouldn't be alone. It was a message, and maybe, it would be enough.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
A tad late
He barely saw these people anymore. There was a point in time when each and every one of them had an almost daily presence in his life. However, through the course of nothing that can't be classified under the broad and all encompassing category of "life," he sprung out of his ordinary cycle and into a life full of mind-numbing distractions and seclusion.
Over a year later and he had begun to crawl back out of his cave. Maybe, the world after all, was not such a scary place. Maybe it was ok for him to revisit some of the life he had before.
He learned, however, that time does not wait. Yet another was going to join the distant ranks of the far away. The winds of change had once again blown, and this time he was caught off guard when it happened. The future would be an interesting place, and only time would be able to tell if this stretched string like bond would survive or if it would just be buried and forgotten by the sands of time.
Over a year later and he had begun to crawl back out of his cave. Maybe, the world after all, was not such a scary place. Maybe it was ok for him to revisit some of the life he had before.
He learned, however, that time does not wait. Yet another was going to join the distant ranks of the far away. The winds of change had once again blown, and this time he was caught off guard when it happened. The future would be an interesting place, and only time would be able to tell if this stretched string like bond would survive or if it would just be buried and forgotten by the sands of time.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
New Life
He didn't know what triggered it, but all of a sudden the wheels of the old rusted engine started to turn ever so minutely and the old train let out a loud blast of steam and slowly started rolling once again. Time would tell if this was a revival for the tattered old engine or merely it blowing steam.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Storm
Somewhere in the future a storm was brewing, and he could either let it take him somewhere new and potentially wonderful or he could just let it pass him by.
For the past few months he had been caught in a funk, one spurred on by disappointments and lack of development or progress in seemingly every aspect of his life. "Change is minimal, real change, lasting change, is minimal, we don't see instantaneous results, stuff like that only happens in movies and story books," is what he needed to remind himself of, but lately it had been difficult to do so. Every day he was subjected to the same mind numbing activities, or so he believed. The fact of the matter was that there were plenty of things going on around him, he was sure of it, but he was just dumbing himself down way too much to see it all. It was time for an attitude adjustment, however, change is minimal, change is slow, so if he wanted to be prepared for the coming storm, he needed to get his shit together and start changing now.
For the past few months he had been caught in a funk, one spurred on by disappointments and lack of development or progress in seemingly every aspect of his life. "Change is minimal, real change, lasting change, is minimal, we don't see instantaneous results, stuff like that only happens in movies and story books," is what he needed to remind himself of, but lately it had been difficult to do so. Every day he was subjected to the same mind numbing activities, or so he believed. The fact of the matter was that there were plenty of things going on around him, he was sure of it, but he was just dumbing himself down way too much to see it all. It was time for an attitude adjustment, however, change is minimal, change is slow, so if he wanted to be prepared for the coming storm, he needed to get his shit together and start changing now.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Impending Changes
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/22/nyregion/22chinese.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1
Oddly enough, this seems to have been the topic of conversation between myself and my friend Jessica as well as with my grandparents and parents. In case you're too lazy to read the article, it's about the rapid change in Manhattan's Chinatown in language of Cantonese speakers to Mandarin speakers.
This is a significant change because, not too many people know this, but Mandarin (the official dialect of China) and Cantonese (the dialect spoken most frequently in southern China and Hong Kong [as well as Macau]) are not mutually intelligible, meaning that most of the elderly population that does not speak Mandarin and only speaks Cantonese, are becoming increasingly isolated. Additionally, this comes as sort of a blow to me, albeit a much less severe blow to me, because I was raised in a Cantonese speaking household around Cantonese speaking relatives whom frequented a Cantonese speaking Chinatown.
Upon realizing and finally acknowledging the fact that Cantonese is a dying dialect, my first reaction is to fight the change. However, that's a losing battle and a pointless one at that. Those whom refuse to change with the times tend only to get swept up in them and lost. The greatest strength a human can possess is the ability to adapt and change to his or her environment. The tendency for many of us to resist change only harms us in the end. Provided, some changes are frivolous, harmful even, but that is why attention must be paid to what is being changed.
To categorize all change as either good or bad is a fool's move and one that will ultimately lead to failure, however, careful and knowledgeable discernment will allow for proper judgement when the need for change arises, or, inversely, the need to stay the same.
The point of this all being that upon reading the above article on which my friend posted on her facebook, I was reminded that some changes, even if for the better, are not changes we want to make. Personally, I hate the fact that the Cantonese speaking population in Chinatown New York, as well as elsewhere (even Hong Kong), is dwindling. If possible I would have Cantonese thrive as a dialect all over the world, because that's part of the culture in which I was raised as well as my heritage. However, that wish is not practical at all and resisting this particular change is neither going to benefit me nor is it something that will honor this piece of my cultural heritage. In actuality it does nothing to serve anyone. The best way, I believe I have realized, to keep this part of my culture alive is to pass it down, along with the changes that are occuring. Trying to keep something intangible in its original form, its original idea, is never something that can be done. The best we can do is pass it along and allow it to change how it will be changed and allow people to trace its lineage.
Oddly enough, this seems to have been the topic of conversation between myself and my friend Jessica as well as with my grandparents and parents. In case you're too lazy to read the article, it's about the rapid change in Manhattan's Chinatown in language of Cantonese speakers to Mandarin speakers.
This is a significant change because, not too many people know this, but Mandarin (the official dialect of China) and Cantonese (the dialect spoken most frequently in southern China and Hong Kong [as well as Macau]) are not mutually intelligible, meaning that most of the elderly population that does not speak Mandarin and only speaks Cantonese, are becoming increasingly isolated. Additionally, this comes as sort of a blow to me, albeit a much less severe blow to me, because I was raised in a Cantonese speaking household around Cantonese speaking relatives whom frequented a Cantonese speaking Chinatown.
Upon realizing and finally acknowledging the fact that Cantonese is a dying dialect, my first reaction is to fight the change. However, that's a losing battle and a pointless one at that. Those whom refuse to change with the times tend only to get swept up in them and lost. The greatest strength a human can possess is the ability to adapt and change to his or her environment. The tendency for many of us to resist change only harms us in the end. Provided, some changes are frivolous, harmful even, but that is why attention must be paid to what is being changed.
To categorize all change as either good or bad is a fool's move and one that will ultimately lead to failure, however, careful and knowledgeable discernment will allow for proper judgement when the need for change arises, or, inversely, the need to stay the same.
The point of this all being that upon reading the above article on which my friend posted on her facebook, I was reminded that some changes, even if for the better, are not changes we want to make. Personally, I hate the fact that the Cantonese speaking population in Chinatown New York, as well as elsewhere (even Hong Kong), is dwindling. If possible I would have Cantonese thrive as a dialect all over the world, because that's part of the culture in which I was raised as well as my heritage. However, that wish is not practical at all and resisting this particular change is neither going to benefit me nor is it something that will honor this piece of my cultural heritage. In actuality it does nothing to serve anyone. The best way, I believe I have realized, to keep this part of my culture alive is to pass it down, along with the changes that are occuring. Trying to keep something intangible in its original form, its original idea, is never something that can be done. The best we can do is pass it along and allow it to change how it will be changed and allow people to trace its lineage.
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