a fistful of fragments
I've been ill over the last week or so, but I'm getting better.
Class was cancelled last night due to a gas leak and subsequent fire, so I took a walk around, thought about a bunch of things. Apart from the morbid images of my own death (very possibly in some accident or more likely, some incident - check out Dawson College, Montreal for what I mean), I thought about people in general. And I am not referring to any person(s), but people.
I paced along the aisles in the supermarket, watching student-types scrutinize price tags for the sale of the week, a man pushing a cart filled with tomato sauce, pastas and basil, a woman desperately trying to pacify her child while attempting to grab a loaf of whole-grain bread. How often do we notice these things?
Do you?
More importantly, have you wondered about their stories? What their day was like. What they're planning to prepare for dinner. Who's having dinner with them. How they're going to get home. Why they're here - the here and now. Are they happy. Sad. Disappointed. Or secretly planning to spring a surprise. Hoping for a surprise. Not wanting a surprise. Is anyone waiting for them. Are they waiting for someone. Will they wait for that someone.
---
I once asked a friend about those questions, whether she (now that I think about it, it seems like I have more female friends) ever wondered about them. She said no, and asked if I did. When I said that I did, she asked me why.
I don't know why.
I just do.
I don't speak to that friend any more.
---
Recently, I've been asking myself if I love my family - dad, mom, sister. And honestly, I don't know if I do. I once thought that I did, but I was wrong. I don't feel anything for them. Maybe I once did, but I think it's faded away.
---
A good friend expressed recent surprise at learning that I've never had sex - which led me to think: Has sex (or rather, the losing of one's virginity) replaced the tribal practice of rites of adulthood? (Obvious answer: Yes.) Clearly I'm not the first to ponder this question, but hearing it from a good friend about myself did bring it a little closer to home.
I could break it down into a series of questions, and analyze each one from a sociological/anthropological point of view, but that would defeat the purpose.
I don't really know what sex means to me. I've never really spent much time consciously thinking about it. Sure, I'm just as curious about sex as I am about skydiving - the physical element, the chemical rush (of adrenaline and of hormones, I would assume), the afterglow of my brain basking in endorphins (and possibly oxytocin). I can't really remember if I thought about it when I was younger (read: 15-18 years old), but I can tell you that I've not thought about it since I entered university. (short tangent: there was a report on NewScientist.com where a bunch of researchers proved that humans think about sex for about 90% of any given week, most of it unconscious. Guess the insult "you horny bastard" and others aren't far off the mark.)
---
In many ways, I'm tired of simply thinking without a corresponding action. Not that I'm fixated about the impotency of action, but more about acting in the real world. I've thought about many things through university, most of it things that the usual person wouldn't even wonder about in a drug-induced haze. But how much of it have I put into action? Can I put it into action?
---
Alright, I'm outta here.
Class was cancelled last night due to a gas leak and subsequent fire, so I took a walk around, thought about a bunch of things. Apart from the morbid images of my own death (very possibly in some accident or more likely, some incident - check out Dawson College, Montreal for what I mean), I thought about people in general. And I am not referring to any person(s), but people.
I paced along the aisles in the supermarket, watching student-types scrutinize price tags for the sale of the week, a man pushing a cart filled with tomato sauce, pastas and basil, a woman desperately trying to pacify her child while attempting to grab a loaf of whole-grain bread. How often do we notice these things?
Do you?
More importantly, have you wondered about their stories? What their day was like. What they're planning to prepare for dinner. Who's having dinner with them. How they're going to get home. Why they're here - the here and now. Are they happy. Sad. Disappointed. Or secretly planning to spring a surprise. Hoping for a surprise. Not wanting a surprise. Is anyone waiting for them. Are they waiting for someone. Will they wait for that someone.
---
I once asked a friend about those questions, whether she (now that I think about it, it seems like I have more female friends) ever wondered about them. She said no, and asked if I did. When I said that I did, she asked me why.
I don't know why.
I just do.
I don't speak to that friend any more.
---
Recently, I've been asking myself if I love my family - dad, mom, sister. And honestly, I don't know if I do. I once thought that I did, but I was wrong. I don't feel anything for them. Maybe I once did, but I think it's faded away.
---
A good friend expressed recent surprise at learning that I've never had sex - which led me to think: Has sex (or rather, the losing of one's virginity) replaced the tribal practice of rites of adulthood? (Obvious answer: Yes.) Clearly I'm not the first to ponder this question, but hearing it from a good friend about myself did bring it a little closer to home.
I could break it down into a series of questions, and analyze each one from a sociological/anthropological point of view, but that would defeat the purpose.
I don't really know what sex means to me. I've never really spent much time consciously thinking about it. Sure, I'm just as curious about sex as I am about skydiving - the physical element, the chemical rush (of adrenaline and of hormones, I would assume), the afterglow of my brain basking in endorphins (and possibly oxytocin). I can't really remember if I thought about it when I was younger (read: 15-18 years old), but I can tell you that I've not thought about it since I entered university. (short tangent: there was a report on NewScientist.com where a bunch of researchers proved that humans think about sex for about 90% of any given week, most of it unconscious. Guess the insult "you horny bastard" and others aren't far off the mark.)
---
In many ways, I'm tired of simply thinking without a corresponding action. Not that I'm fixated about the impotency of action, but more about acting in the real world. I've thought about many things through university, most of it things that the usual person wouldn't even wonder about in a drug-induced haze. But how much of it have I put into action? Can I put it into action?
---
Alright, I'm outta here.
NIGEL
9:50 AM
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