Pondering People

Pondering people. Where do we get the feeling that people ponder? Or is it that when they sit still and seem to have a focused look on their face we try to get into the grooves of their minds but we can’t because we’re no mind readers. But a shadow of doubt remains. I find it fascinating that we resolve this conflict between reason and instinct through doubt. In that keen fixated look, you see a stubborn constancy, a cadenced pace that’s swirling in a blind pattern. It’s as if you’re trying to “see” sunlight through a blindfold. All the other senses point towards it except for the most conclusive: direct sight. And at this point we fail. We fail to see that there is more than one way of “seeing” things and we ignore our other capabilities. And I’m not sure if this is a mere infirmity of the mind or of the culture we grew up. We fail to listen to the voice that comes from within, that speaks truths I do not daresay. But I resolve to go on my blindfold, search with all my senses for that elusive truth I cannot see with my bare eyes. Or maybe it’s my bare eyes that might get hurt.  

Abridged Diary of a Foreign Student - On Success and Other Abstractions

To be successful at something you need to spend at least 10.000 hours at it. I have to confess I had no idea that success hangs by a set number but so they say. Ok. Who are “they”? And should we believe “them”? “They” are Malcolm Gladwell, one my favorite writers. And Outliers is the proud bearer of this enlightening idea. And the story starts in class, in my psychology class, where I’m getting my latest source of wisdom. Ugh, it’s cold outside, even worse, cloudy and I need something positive to focus on to boost my good mood. Now I’m back to today’s topic and this is an absolute wow moment. Not necessarily because I’d think you can take the easy way to success, but because I never envisioned success under a number. 

Like most relative things in this world, success is combination of factors (or so I thought) not the number of hours you dedicate yourself to the activity that will bring it. Operant conditioning at its finest. You commit to an activity that’ll bring you a late benefit. A sort of abstract application of the Pavlovian basic reflex. However, we, humans, still hover in the realm of conditioning. I like to refer to the operant conditioning as ‘abstract’ as opposed to the ‘basic’ one that Pavlov’s dog displays. It’s basically still conditioning but at a human level. I’m not implying humans cannot be classically conditioned because they are, on a daily basis, but what it’s that very ‘abstract' one that prevails . 

I might use a term in psychology now and then but I’m no scientist, I simply try to connect the dots I see on the larger canvass, ignored most of the times because we’re so engrossed in our routine. Fair enough. I have no idea WHY I keep digressing from the main topic but yes success still is to my mind that perfect mix of incredible talent invested in unimaginable amounts of time. The day has just begun so better start working! 

Photo retrieved @ 

http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/cga/lowres/cgan1236l.jpg

Abridged Diary of a Foreign Student - St Patrick's Day

I feel that I need to go back in time the last weekend, St Patrick Day, also known in the States as St Paddy’s Day or St Patty’s Day. It’s Saturday morning, bright and early and I have to be up and running by 7 o’clock because by some wise twist of the faith I had signed up for a fast-track class. Not the most fortunate choice. Too late to change it when I realized. Let’s go back to the morning part. So I wake up with a numb head after an obviously sleep-deprived night for a glorious test was awaiting me after an intense session of cramming. On American history. You wish you weren't in my shoes. There’s absolutely nothing exciting about compressing historic events and matching them with their timing. I love history, but I’m not particularly fascinated about the memorizing process. This accounts for a fairly description of my fore-mentioned numbness. Fair enough.

I leave my house at a brisk pace – it’s always a brisk pace or else I’m looking up the word “gone” on Webster dictionary (the freedictionary is considered unreliable by authoritative figures though I like it best ) and then I take a deep breath before I’m be filled with frustration.

Well, here I am up on the platform waiting for the trolley-train or vice versa when something hits my eyes: the platform is packed with people. Green people. No, it’s not an alien invasion, it’s an Irish invasion, best case scenario. Everyone’s wearing green outfits, clover shaped accessories or clover-shaped green tattoos. Or golden ones. Depending on the taste. Today’s celebrations caught me completely off guard, otherwise I wouldn't have probably attempted to join the green madness. Or maybe not. It’s a fairly jolly crowd, with excitement teeming on their faces at the thought of the very near future alcohol boost awaiting them downtown. Now I just got into conditioning. I can’t help myself. My psychology professor is simply amazing and due to her greatness I got to identify the phenomenon. Seems like school might actually have some benefits. 

I eventually get on the trolley, spot a seat and head decidedly for it because it’s going to be a long ride and I’m still not fully prepared for my upcoming test. Yikes! I’m already stresses out, but it’s ok, stress happens. While engrossed in my reading material, an elderly gentleman sits next to me, his wife and his seemingly granddaughter in front of me. The spouses start talking.  And it’s not English but crystal clear Italian. I’m fascinated. I have a growing sympathy for all the foreigners I meet, especially if they are European. And I think the feeling is mutual. We strike up a conversation – half Italian half English – and yes!I love sharing some thoughts with welcoming strangers. It just reminds the there’s still hope for goodness in this tainted world.

So I had my moment early morning now I have to look around, for you see, you can’t ignore an overwhelming crowd, crammed on an obviously too small of a trolley. Which made me late for class. And that’s ok. This is one of the things I love about Americans: they can say “that’s ok” and they really mean it. Well, it wasn't really ok in my case because I have just missed the beginning of test, but I was more than welcome to sit down and take the whole test.

To be continued. It’s a promise.

Photo retrieved @ http://www.doverlibrary.org/sites/default/files/St_%20Patrick's%20day.jpg

Abridged Diary of a Foreign Student - Day X

It's a diary, but chronological order doesn't work for me. So today is Tuesday, March 27. The same old morning routine. Ah, the city buzz in downtown. A huge crowd of people getting off the trolley and heading for work. There’s something fascinating about seeing a great amount of people heading in similar directions. It’s something close to seeing a stadium crowd, but no excitement. They may all be strangers to one another, but so are stadium people to one another.

The warm glow of the morning seems to be only shattered by the crisp coolness of this morning. The sun is up and running but ouch the air sure knows how to pinch my face. But there’s some sort of irresistible freshness about this morning or how sunlight pierces unstopped through the window pane of the bus and then does its spotty dance on the chairs, floor or anywhere it can get on. The bus swiftly crosses the highway this morning, it may be because there are less passengers or I  have an unusually keen perception of my surroundings. Oh, I think the sentiment has found me today. Does that make me sentimental? And if the case is different, should it be that I’m asentimental? I won’t delve too much on that, I just need to do some mental processing of my own states before I put myself out there.

“Alone on its back. In a crib” – the bus proudly announces a tip for putting babies to bed. Outside the bus, the world is in motion. Fleeting tall buildings, occasionally throwing a look full of contempt, or humble homes that beg for someone to take care of them, a museum promising an oasis for civilization. And the neatness of correctly installed traffic signs. Wow, how they stand there every day doing the same thing. It must be strangely tedious at a certain point, but there we go. I’m in the student district now, kind of getting a jittery feeling at the thought of the last bomb threats in one of the universities. I was there one of the days when a whole building could have beautifully been wiped out from the face of earth. What are the odds of that happening and I being in the place? Pretty high, if we think of the general unsafety that we witness today. 

Just a morning brush-up whilst on the bus. Have a sunny day!

Photo retrieved @http://mattrothphoto.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/090828BusRide207.jpg

Endurance

Today’s reflection pretty much wraps around what’s “real”, “truthful” or any other adjective gravitating around the same area. I think I’m starting to dimly see an answer shaping on the horizon of my tired mind. Endurance. Such a simple answer to a riveting question yet it encapsulates an elusive essence: the slippery slope of “reality”; my own experience has just proven what logos have been shouting out loud on ignorable banners: see it in the test of time. I see myself in a terrible race trying to stand the test of time in every instance of the fleeting day. I sometimes struggle to wake up, but I do, so I’m enduring. I struggle getting on the bus on a cold morning, but I do, so I’m enduring. I struggle going to school every day, but I do, so I’m enduring. I struggle to hold my breath every time the sun comes up, but I do, so I’m enduring. I struggle to harness my heart but I don’t cut loose unwanted feelings, so I’m enduring; up until the moment I’ll stop swimming against the tide that I fight so fiercely every day and my endurance will come to a halt. I’m human and I don’t endure in endurance. 

Hard to Spell it Out

I haven't been on here for a long time and I needed a fresh of breath air and so did my blog. I was waiting in line one day at the grocery when I suddenly realized: you're really free when you release yourself from the burden of expectation. Whether we like it or not, we do let ourselves be eaten up by unrealistic expectations, tight deadlines or other imagined or real boundaries. Oh, if we could only let go for an instant?Is it that hard to do it?Not if you think about it and put it right there in front of you - the monster seems less scary and you finally realize what you're confronting with. Now, I'm not going to plead for carelessness and irresponsibility but just that from once in a while everyone dare take a look at yourselves and point out that your holding on to waaaay too much pressure, which most of the times comes from within. So what if you fail?So what if you fall?So what if you get your heart broken?So what if your plans don't see the next day? I'd say let go of that expectation at least once in a while and accept the unacceptable. Yes, I hate myself for doing it and I do it quite a lot but this is where I am right now. Oh, and all the subsequent negative energy...well, all I'm doing is to put down in front of me firstly, and then in front of you. A shameful nakedness of the soul. But I no longer get embarrassed because for a fraction of the second I took an honest look at myself and released myself from the burden of not watching myself. Your order is ready: a tiny bit of myself served on a silver or less silvery platter. Oh, well!

It's the first time I'm posting a song over here and I feel ready to publicly declare my love for Ingrid. She needs no further introduction, it's just an amazing song, hope it blends in well with your day! Enjoy the sweet let-go feeling that music can occasionally exude when well performed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUxLK1misbw