Soundtrack to a Schizophrenic Mind
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the sky." ~Jack Kerouac On the Road
Track 1: Ryan Adams>> "Back beat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out..."
Next door and two flights up an unknown woman sings scales, melancholic and operatic, ghostlike, she vocalizes the sorrows that haunt me. Music has always been my salvation. A feeling rolls in, filling the empty vibration of my ...view middle of the document...
Drowning. Sometimes it is just so painful to be alive. Screams, trapped with the tears somewhere inside, build a dam of hopelessness and frustration to protect society from the unsightly emotions: anger, sadness, grief. Freud called it melancholy: loss unmourned. Modern society calls it depression, apparently a phenomenon common amongst students returning from extended travels in "developing" countries. "You'll readjust in a month or so", they consoled me. Translation: not to worry, soon I'll be comfortably numb like the rest of upper middle class, ivy-league, land rover driving academia, safe in the comfort zone of otherization.
Western ideology is an insensitivity I don't ever want to return to.
<<Track 2: Dave Matthews Band>> "It used to be that you and me played for all of the loneliness, but nobody notices now..."
As freshman in college, I floated on a happy cloud of innocence and naiveté. Happiness is beauty of energy and people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be. Sanity is merely a harmony of mind. Sometimes the neurons in my head fire like a meteor shower, disorganized and out of control, yet beautiful and creative. When did I stop appreciating this? Once upon a time, strangers gravitated toward happiness in me like moths to a light in the darkness. So very in love, with life, with school, with a person. It transferred into everything...this light of protective joy enshrouding my innocence. Bliss. But time doesn't let a person freeze life at age 18. My prefrontal cortex matured. Truth knocked and when I opened the door it smacked me square in the face. I grew up, but somewhere in this process I disconnected from the positive energy that was individual and beautiful.
Regret. That's the sediment of feeling disturbing my mental solution, visible only once the solute of pride and perfectionism boils away. Had I been able to accept my mistakes in school and in love, forgive myself and step foreword, with pure heart, with lovingkindness, with the sanskrit metta, free of ego...how it would all be different now. But I'm a runner and a fighter; everyone's greatest strength is also their greatest weakness. So much compassion for others, yet none for myself! I fought a battle with me by running to Thailand. Don't like attachment? Forcibly detach yourself and it's sink or swim. But I am the one person I can never outrun...I know that now.
The pink fuzzy haze of idealized nostalgia pervades the minutes rolling into hours which crash into days. Wakeupgotoclassstudystudystudysleepwakeup. It all just feels so monotonous and meaningless in the end. The families of the Burmese refugees I once lived with with are running from troops systematically enacting a 40 year long genocide campaign, and I'm wasting my energy doing what? HIV prevention? How can people worry about safe sex if they don't have the resources for food or clean water? When every effort feels mutually exclusive in this quest to save the world,...