you live and you... learn?

I saw him again today.  It's Sunday, by the way.  It was at 111th Street.  He had his head down, eyes glued to the concrete, and I reacted by doing the same instead of trying to draw attention to myself by leaping in front of him and probably scaring him into screaming. 

What are the chances?  A series of coincidental meetings while on campus, or in the political science department, is not out of the realm of possibility, but this was off-campus, in the midst of the shitty one-level convenience stores, sketchy travel agencies, and ethnic laundromats.  What are the chances that I would decide that I had an unquenchable need to buy new headphones at the same time that he decided he had to... do whatever he was doing?  What are the chances?

Speaking of the realm of possibility, I don't even know why I entertain this latest fancy of mine.  This is my second most unattainable obsession ever (the first being a fictional character).  There is no, no way that this could actually turn into anything.  Unless I keep in touch with him after I graduate.  But supposedly I'm going to go save the world via the State Department after I graduate, so that's not likely.  The other alternative is happening upon him in a bar when he's already drunk and effectively raping him.  I don't think that would be very nice, however. 

I mean, there's just no way for this to work. 

I suppose it's just nice to obsess over someone... something... anything, even if it's someone completely unattainable.  It sort of reduces the pain associated with life in general.  Isn't that the reason we become attached to fandom?  Because we want an escape, no matter how temporary or impossible?  It's like the dream you have when you're younger that Lucia talked about... the dream that someday we're going to be happy.  As you grow up you figure out you never will be happy as a permanent state, but that doesn't mean you stop looking for it.  Very Sisyphus of us, but think of the Coldplay song: "maybe you'll get what you wanted, maybe you'll stumble upon it, everything you ever wanted in a permanent state". 

We really are just foolish mortals, after all, "like flies to wanton boys".  What's the point of insisting on realism when the real world is so crushingly ugly?  Why not make life more bearable?  My rationale has always been, as long as I keep getting As, as long as I don't actually change my life to fit this obsession, then I'm ok.  Of course, the other possibility is that happiness is right in front of you in another form that you ignore because you're so caught up in this fake, unattainable happiness, and it just passes you by.  That's always a risk you have to take, I suppose.  Either that or you find some way to keep your eyes open in the real world at the same time that you seek refuge in your escape chute. 

Sigh, Coldplay really captures the hopeless romanticism of this situation:  are you lost or incomplete?  do you feel like a puzzle, you can't find your missing piece?  Tell me how you feel.  Well, I feel like they're talking in a language I can't speak, and they're talking it to me. 

I don't even know why I'm being so... obsessed this particular time.  Is it just that I get really into people intellectually, and I've never met somebody whose intelligence I looked up to so much?  Lucia says that she doesn't want boys to be smarter than her because it makes her feel dumb, but I don't feel that way - not as long as they respect me.  I couldn't marry anyone who didn't dazzle me with their intelligence.  That doesn't have to be in the form of an Ivy League diploma or something so materialistic as that, although it is an easy marker - and coming from the academic family I come from, I think my reverence for the intelligentsia is only natural.  It reminds me of the kind of stoic admiration I have for Jack McCoy, the Law & Order District Attorney, who while being an alcoholic and multiple-time-divorcee is also one of the smartest characters in television.  Yes, he's old, but the eloquence of his speeches more than makes up for it - the best is the time he dumps all the bullets that can be unleashed without reloading by this semi-automatic gun in the middle of the courtroom (he's brought charges against the gun manufacturer for making their gun so easy to convert from semi-automatic to automatic, and though the jury finds the company guilty, the judge dismisses the ruling).  I actually get upset when the previews taunt me with hints of him getting hurt. 

Jack has a good quote that reminds me of this "situation" I'm in.  One of his assistants is accusing him of being a cynic.  Jack doesn't deny it, but he does say, "I wake up every day hoping to find an honest man."  Keep the faith! 

Kim, who is not helping, gives me hints as to how to broach a conversation with him - start off with the research, then go into the family vacations in Greece.  But I don't think I'm capable of that.  If anything because it would be breaking the dream, by making it tangible, and maybe I don't want to do that.  Maybe I don't want the letdown, beautiful as it may be.  After all, if I keep it in my mind, it can be as perfect as I want it to be.  Let's talk, let's talk...

Death is perfection. 

when will you conclude that drowning in words is saving your life

Here's a cute meme stolen from another user, asiannabananna.  I don't know this person.  I was just browsing LJs, looking for quizzes to entertain my absent-minded head.  Speaking of absent-minded, my father has a good story of absent-mindedness.  He was looking for his sunglasses - it's bright in Indonesia.  He looked through the living room and the kitchen while I was sitting at the kitchen table with my Ramen noodles that smell the same as the Ramen noodles I eat now.  I think it might have been our housekeeper who finally pointed out that they were on his head.  It was Election Day, and he was going off to vote.  He always claimed that he was in the "white" party, which is basically the unaffiliated party, because even though he worked for the government in that he worked for a public university, he couldn't bring himself to vote for Golkar, Soeharto's ultra-capitalist ruling party.  As I recall our housekeeper used to vote for the green party, which was the Muslim party.  PPP was strongest among the poor.  Election Day was the reason I was at home in the middle of the day - school had been dismissed, as it always was by mid-morning on Election Days.  Too dangerous.  Reports of riots would come flooding in and although they never touched our part of the city - the outskirts, far from the student protesters - the school administrators always erred on the side of making sure students would be able to get home without the help of blockades. 

Sorry for the tangent.  It just occurred to me.  It always does when I think of the word absent-minded.

10 questions: Pick a band/singer and answer only using that band / singer's song titles.  I suppose since I'm listening to Coldplay obsessively right now, I should do Coldplay. 

1. Are you male or female?
we never change

2. Describe yourself.
what if

3. How do some people feel about you?
warning sign

4. How do you feel about yourself?
trouble

5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest?
politik

6. Where would you rather be?
amsterdam

7. Describe what you want to be.
don't panic

8. Describe how you live.
twisted logic

9. Describe how you love.
shiver

10. Share a few words of wisdom.
everything's not lost

ten realizations

1.  I hate the MLA Handbook.  I don't know why.  It's just a bitch looking up proper citations, even though I'm very meticulous about it. 
2.  I'm obsessed with wearing scarves indoors.  Not long Isadora-Duncan-scarves, just short ones.  It keeps my neck warm.  I like it when my neck's warm.  It must be my mother rubbing off on me.
3.  If I decide to call Andromeda "Andy" for short, I could totally devote the song "Andy, You're a Star" to her (not Andromache - she's not a star).  It would be from her lady-in-waiting, Irene.  They have sort of a lesbian relationship.  Sort of.  It's weird.
       on the field I remember you were incredible
       on the mats with the boys you think you're alone
       with the pain that you drained from love
       in a car with a girl (boy), promise me (s)he's not your world
       cuz Andy, you're a star!
4.  I hate most heroines. 
5.  I am prone to disliking most tomboys. 
6.  I like women that are referred to as bitches, especially by men. 
7.  Itching is a very easy symptom for a hypochondriac to psychosomatically manifest. 
8.  Andromache is modeled after Laura Ingalls Wilder from Little House on the Prairie.  So she's kind of a tomboy.  But she's also a bitch.
9.  I don't have the right to critique anyone else's love lives because clearly mine is fucked up beyond words. 
10.  I'm going to be a Southeast Asian-ist.  I told my mother and she started laughing. 
       Me:  I know, it's funny.
       My mom:  No, it's not funny.  It's just that, you know... you come from a family of carpenters, so by god, you're going to be a carpenter too.
       For some reason this reminded me instantly of Jesus, probably because in "Jesus Christ Superstar", Judas says,
       Nazareth, your famous son
       should have stayed a great unknown,
       like his father carving wood,
       he'd have made good.
       Tables, chairs, and oaken chests
       would have suited Jesus best
       He'd have caused nobody harm
       No one alarm.
And no, I'm not comparing myself to Jesus.  And that just reminded me of The Simpsons episode where Homer goes on a hunger strike and sings,
       dancing away my hunger pains,
       moving so my stomach won't hurt,
       I'm kind of like Jesus
       but not in a sacrilegious way