2003-11-20 - 1:27 p.m.
I've been writing so much in ever other facet of my life that it feels like duty instead of release.
In brief: Things are lovely. I have a job, I have a future, and I have a man.
And I think here I will begin to post the column I write, if only because I don't like empty space. So here's the most recent:
A Sense of Entropy: I’m Not Through with You Yet
"Nothing of me is original. I am the combined efforts of everyone I have ever known." -Chuck Palahniuk
When I read this book for the first time, Invisible Monsters, I went through and underlined quotations that echoed my beliefs; that made me stop and contemplate. I took my ballpoint and traced a crooked inky line under these 10 to 15 words. I pushed down so hard, my hand faintly trembling, that years later I can rub my finger along the indentation that was left on the following seven pages.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, this idea that we are just amalgam of all the people we have ever known. It’s true, you know. We are nothing but the middle ground between the people in our past and the people in our future. I’m not sure if I should feel guilty for completely leeching sections of my personality from others, or if they should feel honored.
A friend and I were walking, post-concert, in the cinematic air of the city a while back, discussing all of the philosophical things that spilling out of a packed venue seems to promote. There is something so subversively inspiring about being crushed against strangers at a concert, all of you breathing the same heady air, entranced by the same amazing music.
Anyhow.
She was commenting about how her boyfriend despised people who parasitically absorbed personalities.
We all know the type, the one who has no opinions, no personal ideals, no tastes of their own. They simply adopt the characteristics of the closest person they can find. This particular conversation was in the context of his ex-girlfriend, how at first he was completely pleased by this girl whose tastes mirrored his exactly. Over time, though, the lack of any substance became annoying.
I was intrigued by the idea that we are all just really attracted to ourselves, this being the most dramatic sense.
But aren’t we all these type of people? It is few and far between that you will find someone who is completely unique. So I was thinking how I am a product of my relationships. How, once it’s broken down into the simplest elements, the guy who likes me now actually likes my ex-boyfriend. Though I do like to think I’ve tweaked it a bit. It’s like leaving a corporation to start your own business.
I collect people whose attributes I want. We all do.
Some say they need a physical marking to recall a time period in their life, like tattoos. Folks claim that by staring at the ink drawn figure on their body, it’s like looking at a photo album.
Me, I just need recognize my influences as they arise; the book I’m reading, the album I’m listening to, the phrases that pepper my conversations. They are the efforts of everyone I’ve ever known.
~j
+The Shins/ Chutes Too Narrow+
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