YOU'VE CHANGED

I love street art. I love street art that is both aesthetically pleasing and intellectually meaningful.

The other day when I was walking to campus I stumbled upon the street art pictured in this photo. I stopped and stared. When a piece of art arrests my attention to the point that I stop and stare, I consider it good art. If the work of art causes me to keep thinking about it after I've left it, I consider it great art. This was great art.

"YOU'VE CHANGED." When I saw these words spray-painted on the sidewalk, I had no choice but to enter self-reflection mode. The bold and anonymous assertion cut me to the core. YOU'VE CHANGED. The negative ways that I've changed flooded my mind. My filters of rationalization became temporarily disabled, and I saw my whole self. Not just a leg or an ear or an arm, but everything that I am. I've changed. I can't deny it.

But then my mind turned to the leaps and bounds I have made. I have consciously changed destructive aspects of who I am, and every day I work actively to maintain those improvements.

I have changed for the better.

I don't know what the ratios are for how much I've changed for the worse vs. better, but I can confidently say that I have changed for the better. And it felt good to acknowledge that.

It's OK to admit to yourself that you are making progress. Self-reflection need not just be a rebuking and punishing of self. It is essential to admit to yourself where you have changed for the better so you can maintain that progress.

I loved the physical placement of this message "YOU'VE CHANGED." It lies on the sidewalk that people tread every day, a path they travel mindlessly on their way somewhere else. I find it fascinating that the demand for introspection lay on a travelling path, rather than at a destination. 

I think we often choose to have our most significant self-reflecting moments when we reach a destination. Destinations can be expected or unexpected. When we graduate school. When someone close to us dies. When we are somewhere beautiful. When a relationship ends. When huge opportunities fall in our lap. It's times like these that we sit ourselves down and make assessments.

However, it is so important to look inwardly and make small necessary changes as we go. While we're on our way to our destinations. If we do not make assessments of how we've changed as we go, then we will often come to harsh realizations when we reach landmarks. We will see our leg and our ear and our arm for what they are, and we may not be pleased with what we see. So think about it now. YOU'VE CHANGED. How have you changed?

The lady at Walmart thinks I'm artsy

This story is true. I'm not sure if it's a social commentary on the culture of the people of Walmart, or if it's just a piece of prose I wrote to amuse myself. In any case, I feel obligated to memorialize it. If not for your sake, then mine.

The other day I felt the need to print some photos I took. So I ordered photo prints online through Walmart. Unfortunately, my photos usually end up over-saturated when I print them there. This dampens my spirits momentarily. But then I remember how inexpensive they are and I cope because I am a poor college student.

I also felt the need to purchase a book I've desperately wanted to read for quite some time now. I was surprised to find that Walmart sold it online, and through its Site to Store Pick-Up, I could buy it for a cheaper price than anywhere else. So I did.

On a Saturday afternoon, I traversed to this magical place to collect my treasures. I quickly bought some groceries so I could sooner start the fun part: retrieving my photos and new book. Bananas, strawberries, avocados, wheat pasta, almond milk, guilty pleasure chocolate protein shake. Check.

I hurried to retrieve my book from the Site to Store Pick-up section of Walmart, where a tall brunette man materialized from a back room. I revealed my intentions of picking up the book. His eyes reflected subtle surprise, and he informed me that people hardly ever order books at Walmart. He gladly gave me my book, I gladly received it, and I was on my way to the photo department.

The Lady sat. The Lady sat in her apathy. The Lady sat in her apathy until she mustered the will to ask, "Can I help you?"

I smiled and said, "Yes! I'm here to pick up some photos under the name of Kristina Smith."

The Lady found my photos amongst her files. She pulled two of my photos from their sleeve and asked "where I got them." I told her I photographed the images, because I did. She gave me a pointed look that undoubtedly carried the subtext: "AND I'M THE QUEEN OF SHEBA." The Lady returned the photos to their sleeve without a word, acting like she'd let me slide on this one.

I asked The Lady why she questioned the origin of my photos. She replied, "Well. they look kinda like...artsy. So if you got them online [here she paused and gave me accusing eyes], they're probably copyrighted or something, and you're not supposed to print them without permission."

I reiterated the fact that I took the photos. I even told her the shots' locations. A smirk sat, fastened indefinitely to her face.

The Lady clung to her opinion like a tiny starfish on an artificial boulder. However, as she married her opinion, she also entertained her apathy. Drenched in her indifference, she ultimately permitted me to print photos which she presumed I stole from the Internet.

As I walked away from this strange scenario, I was mildly ruffled because of my inability to penetrate The Lady's mind with truth. However, feelings of amusement and even gratification prevailed.

I don't how much fulfillment a human being is supposed to feel when a Walmart employee deems their photography to be professional in quality. And I don't know what it says about a person when they feel flattered in such a scenario. But for a good five minutes, I felt pretty good about myself.

The lady at Walmart doesn't know it, but she thinks I'm artsy.

FIND YOUR HAPPY PLACE

In a book called "The Summer Before" by Patricia Windsor, the main character described an attention-hungry friend of hers as follows:

"I can't imagine her reading a book quietly or making herself a sandwich or listening to music all alone. 

It's as if she can only exist when she's with somebody else."

We shouldn't live life for an audience. It's important to actively relate to other people, and to exist in relation to other people. However, I think sometimes we get too caught up in relating. We need to be able to exist on our own.

Every once in a while, I take a step back in my life and think of this quote. Lately, I've been thinking about it in relation to the college years. During the college years, you're constantly meeting new people. When you meet someone new, your immediate impulse is usually to find common ground. It's comfortable.

Even when you're past those surfacey stages and you're really getting to know someone better, there's still often a struggle to relate perfectly. It's like the end goal of every human interaction is a flawless connection. And too many people depend on those connections as their only source of fulfillment.

Disclaimer: I am not advocating that people be antisocial or saying that people shouldn't strive for connection. You should. I love connecting with other human beings just as much as the next kid.

However, it's healthy to nourish our individual existence and autonomy.

I included the picture on the right because for me it represents the role that autonomy plays in personal fulfillment.

During high school, I once found a page in the newspaper that said "FIND YOUR HAPPY PLACE." At that point in my life, I was just starting to discover what my internal happy place was, and what external activities helped me get there.

That newspaper page hung on my wall throughout high school as I made my room my own little haven: the place where I covered one wall entirely with quotes, where I crafted collages, where I penned crappy poetry, where I painted abstractions on my nails, where I sang, where I swallowed novels whole, where music played endlessly, where I wrote and wrote and wrote, where I sipped hot chocolate, where I practiced photography, where I studied scriptures, where I succumbed to sweet, sweet sleep.

I still have that newspaper page today. It's a yellowed and tattered reminder that I established my own internal happy place a long time ago, and that I need to revisit it as often as possible. I value time spent connecting with other people, and doing so keeps me sane. However, I need to remember to cherish alone time and to embrace autonomy.

Today I celebrated my internal happy place by turning out the lights in my room, lighting a candle, lending Miles Davis an ear, sitting still for a while and thinking about where I've come from. I feel at peace and recharged. I'd recommend it to other human beings.

What is the Upper Hand?

Okay so I am obsessed with this book right now. I highly recommend it.

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. Gibran writes as if he is a prophet about to leave a people he lived with for 12 years. They ask him for some last words on important subjects (like love, reason and knowledge, pain, self-knowledge, time, good and evil, pleasure, religion, death and so much more). He responds with a poem for each topic. It is great stuff.


The following are excerpts from his poem on Love. Afterwards, I'll give you my two cents on the matter. You are so welcome.

Kahlil Gibran on Love  

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
...
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. 
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. 

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
...
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
So What is the Upper Hand?

As I read this poem, it made me think about the struggle for "the upper hand" in relationships. Any type of relationship. There's too often a fight for that ambiguous "upper hand." What the heck is the upper hand?? It seems like it changes all the time, especially in 'romantic' relationships.

Is "having the upper hand" equivalent to maintaining emotional distance? Is it saving face? Is it being less invested than the other person, but still getting what you want out of it?

Gibran's poem reminds me of this "upper hand" phenomenon when he suggests that love "threshes you to make you naked." Nakedness is vulnerability. Love or anything approaching it will make you feel vulnerable anyway. On an internal level, it will thresh you naked whether you like it or not. 

I think we can take the upper hand by voluntarily offering up our vulnerability.
  
When we offer up our vulnerability, we are completely honest with ourselves and others. We live life openly, without cloaked intentions weighing us down. 

Results? We are liberated. We become less concerned with controlling relationships and it's more likely that we'll learn and grow from them. We will get to laugh all our laughter and weep all our tears. We receive a fuller life. Sounds like the upper hand to me.

What if you died tomorrow?

What if you died tomorrow?
What if your most recent exchange with that person was your last interaction with them ever?
Did you act according to what you stand for?
It's not too late to fix things today.
Tomorrow's the deadline.

The Social Chameleon/Bubblewrap Phenomenon

Social chameleons scare the crap out of me.
Who are they really? Is there any substance in their cells?

By nature, they're reactive. Having conversations with them is validating because their responsiveness makes you feel heard. But what do they think? What's going on in their mind? Something meaningful, or just a series of reactions leading to adjustments in behavior?

Social chameleons are like bubblewrap. Everybody loves bubblewrap. Bubblewrap is a thrill; it responds to your touch, and interactions with it often leave you feeling satisfied for the moment. I think we can all agree that bubblewrap is a dang good time.

But when it comes down to it, bubblewrap is only filled with air.
And you reach a point where you realize that interactions with bubblewrap aren't an exchange.
You can give, but all that will come of it is a few stocatto pops and then, the tiniest little poof of useless air discharges into the wide expanse of the world.

Happy Birthday Kurt Cobain

Happy Birthday Kurt Cobain.

So I wanted to write something about Kurt Cobain in honor of what would have been his 46th birthday.  But I can't really wrap words around what he was.

So I'm just going to tell you why I like his music, share some words that came out of his mouth, and show you a video. Rest in peace, Kurt Cobain. You're a legend.

I love Kurt Cobain's song-writing. Melody was his top priority. He always reminded his band mates that it was melody first, lyrics second. He liked creating simple melodies that had a childlike accessibility. Yes, a lot of his works have a catchy pop-rock element, but they're ultimately so gritty and raw. I love how one moment Kurt will whisper an enticing throaty melody with Dave Grohl keeping a trusty straight beat, and the next moment, the world pauses for Kurt to scream a beautiful haunting refrain as Grohl comes back in with a thunderous drum fill, propelling the music forward from there on, full throttle. Oh, and feedback. Their glorious feedback.

I love music of Cobain's that explores controversial social themes. He doesn't necessarily offer answers, but he explores. One example is his song "Polly," which is reminiscent of a newspaper article Cobain read about a 14-year-old girl who used her wits to escape the man who abducted, tortured and raped her. Cobain wrote this song from the point of view of the torturer. It's disconcerting and fascinating. 

I love that Cobain's music embodies who he was and what he stood for. I'm not saying that I worship him or that I agree with everything he stood for. I just love that his music is reflective of himself, society and what he thought about it all. 

It can be argued that the way that Cobain wrote his music was more reflective of his worldview than his actual lyrics were.

Cobain wrote the lyrics to many of his songs only minutes before recording them. As a result, a good amount of his lyrics were nonsensical with fragmented messages nestled within. He was unapologetic about songs written in this way.  However, some songs, such as those found on In Utero were "more focused" and "almost based on themes," as Cobain explained it. 

Cobain commented on his lyric-writing in general: "I'm such a nihilistic jerk half the time and other times I'm so vulnerable and sincere. [The songs are] like a mixture of both of them. That's how most people my age are."

Dissonance is a constant in real life. I just love that Cobain noticed dissonance in his own life and in the world, bottled some of it up, and poured it into his music.


"Punk is musical freedom. It's saying, doing and playing what you want. In Webster's terms, 'nirvana' means freedom from pain, suffering and the external world, and that's pretty close to my definition of punk rock."

“There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fu**ing sad.” 

“Thank you for the tragedy. I need it for my art.” 

------------------------------------------------------
If you want a glimpse into Kurt Cobain's soul, see the look in his eyes at 4:15. But watch the whole thing.

Valentine's Day: it's gonna happen.

Yes, it's stupid to arbitrarily pick a day to celebrate love every year. But it's not the people who are hopelessly infatuated with this holiday who I pity the most.

What's more pitiful is when people are actively anti-Valentine's Day. Just let the lovebirds relish in all things cheesy and cliche for a day. It's gonna happen. You don't have to take part in it. You also don't have to condemn their practices with your loudest kindergarten voice. People might think you have a bitter taste in your mouth.