Thursday, August 30, 2007

Foreplay, or in anticipation yet again

Anticipation is a glorious thing. I mean, I think people generally have it all wrong when they think about how to make themselves happy. The way I see it, the best part about anything--whether it be the "Holidays" (capital H), an exciting party, moving day, the start of a new school year, a visit from friends, or even (oh no don't go there!) sex. I mean, it's not about the climax, it's not about the actual experience...the best part of anything is the anticipation of the end of that event before it has happened.

If I could, I think I would live my entire life "in anticipation." But, then, there is something to be said about knowing you have completed some things in your life, even if the completion leaves you feeling empty and rather useless. This week I've kicked into anticipation mode, if you will, largely as it were set off by the preparation of my room for its latest redecoration.

And, really, I don't think I want to leave this flurry of activity and all that it entails behind. I'll be driving up to campus in a couple of weeks (well, less) and by that time my life will be packed into a single car and driven all the way north. And, I guess I'm excited, you know? I'm excited for all the possibilities the new year offers. I'm excited for the talk of insane parties that are to take place, for the development of amazingly exciting events, for probably my best class schedule ever, for meeting the new (and re-encountering) some old residents, for old friends, for senior year, for all that senior year entails, and for the big C-word (Commencement, just to be clear). I'm excited, you know. I'm also hopeful that it will be an accomplished year, that it will outdo the amazingness that was last year (a very tough challenge), and that I will find some sort of job or something to occupy my time after I (ack!) graduate. I'm also, well, a little fearful about not accomplishing some of my goals, about sinking into a familiar lull and losing the excitement of the anticipation.

And for what it's worth that's why anticipation is really the best part. When you're anticipating, you're escaping, you're dreaming, you're envisioning. There is no one there to tell you that your dreams are unrealistic, no past to tell you that you haven't accomplished your goals or that you're going to have to put it off a little longer. There is no negotiating, no improvising, no changing of plans. Life is clear and you know how things are going to be. Until a week and a half from now, all that lies ahead of me is a sunny campus overrun with young and attractive people living out their transition from adolescence to adulthood in celebration of youth and all that it encompasses. Two weeks from today, though, there will be training and there will be millions of errands to run and shopping (yay!) to do for my new room. I will be busy. And then classes will start. And then the holiday will end and life will return to its normal pattern. (I really wonder if I'll be able to do any work again; I guess I'll learn--I'm going to have to).

So, let me end this pointless blabber. Anticipation is a really great thing, and I really wish I could live with it all the time. Life would be like one long visit to Disneyland (well, with the escapism effect in full force). But, unfortunately, at some point the park has to close and get ready for tomorrow's crowds. Unfortunately, at some point, the time to anticipate runs out and the actual holiday arrives. And then all you've got is a flurry of organizing family members and serving turkeys and running to pick up a last-minute package of heavy cream (which someone always seems to forget). Or, well, you get the picture. Life comes at you full force. And all you've got is a quickened heart rate, a shortness of breath and some wetness. But god was it worth it!

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Nostalgia unfulfilled

It's surprising really how the world changes as we do. We grow up, we get older, and eventually childhood becomes merely a thing of the past. I don't know exactly when (or whether) that happened for me, but now it seems that I have grown up, and it's about time that I say goodbye to childhood.

It happens to everyone around this age--I mean, why do you think Disney songs are so popular among college students? Maybe something is going on in our brains, preparing us to face the big-bad adult world. Maybe not. Maybe we're just collectively reacting to our independence away from home and the protected environment of our parents' residence and, as a result, clinging to those vague reminders of what it meant to be a child. It's tempting, after all, to just curl back up into that ball and believe someone else will take care of you again.

Unfortunately, that's not the way things were meant to be.

So let me get to the point: I went to Disneyland today. I've been conducting research (and I know, it sounds b.s., but believe me when I say it's been quite in depth) on Disneyland this summer, and today was the first time I went to the park this summer. Or, for two years, in all truth. I've been researching this park, trying to grasp what it is that makes it special, trying to put a name to what Disney does to Anaheim and to Orange County, and why so many tourists flock here. Trying to understand whether Anaheim is truly the city of Disneyland, or whether Disneyland is just some tourist trap in the middle of the budding metropolis known as Anaheim. Needless to say, it was difficult--I was dealing largely in vagueness and uncertainties because I was relying largely on a Disneyland I had known in my memory. Suffice it to say, that Disneyland is drastically different from the one I saw today.

I think most disappointing is that everything--and, yes, I mean everything--has been updated to reflect the newest Disney blockbusters and such. Pirates of the Caribbean has become, well, Pirates of the Caribbean--ironically, much as Eco would see it, a copy of a copy of something that never existed. I mean, does it not seem absurd to the Imagineers that they are, in essence, turning a ride that inspired a movie into a ride based on that very movie? And then of course the submarines have recently reopened to reflect Finding Nemo, which, while a great movie, does not exactly fit well to the concept of the Submarine Voyage without a little smoothing over of details. Similarly, High School Musical, the bane of all things kitsch, Disney, and pop culture has come to invade the park and turn a generation of 'tweens into, well, I'm not quite sure what they are. Singing zombies? Close, perhaps.

Ok, I'm being a little harsh. But the point is not that the park has been redone. That happened quite frequently while I was young as well--one year it was the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse, the next it was Tarzan. Or, perhaps more aptly, one year it was empty space, the next it was the Indiana Jones Adventure (also known as the greatest amusement park attraction of its era). But, you know, I didn't seem to mind those changes. Perhaps because the marketing and the product pushing weren't so widespread back then. Aladdin could just hang out in Adventureland and you didn't have to be bombarded with 10,000 plastic-bottle genies or Aladdin-red vests. But now you wait in line for Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage and all you see are Nemo hats and Dorie t-shirts. I mean, give it up already, just let kids have fun without turning them into mindless consumers, gosh.

But, you know, I don't really care that they want to do all of that. I mean, Disney is a business, they have to make money. And they're doing it quite well right now and, well, go figure they've found a cash cow in High School Musical. Good for them. What is most upsetting to me, personally, is seeing this park that I remembered one way overrun with a completely different generation of children. The Disneyland of my childhood is officially gone. In its place is a castle that seems a fraction of its former height, a Space Mountain that--despite its smoother, faster, darker upgrade--seems slower than I remember it, and a trip down Splash Mountain's final plunge that seems, well, anything but the long and scary drop it once was. It seems that, somehow, I have outgrown Disney. Or Disney has outgrown me. In either case, walking around the park today was fun, yes, it was entertaining and all of that, but it was an experience in analysis and in letting go. Rather than take things at their surface value, I couldn't help but question every sign and decoration and trick in the park's details. Rather than experience a return to my childhood, I had to face the fact that I am no longer a child.

That is the most upsetting realization there is. I don't know why it is so hard to transition out of childhood, why it is such a challenge to face the fact that you are an adult. After all, when we're children adulthood can't come fast enough. But sooner or later childhood is gone, and all it can be is a memory, a glimmer in your eye when you hear the first chords of "A Whole New World," or a belief, just for a minute, that through your imagination all your dreams really will come true. Eventually, though, you have to leave the park gates and return to a world that doesn't give a shit about your imagination...

Sunday, August 12, 2007

I'm On My Fifteen (weeks)

You know, a few weeks ago, I thought I was going to have the most boring summer ever. All I'd be doing is sitting at home, with the occasional jaunt to Anaheim or somewhere else to work on my research and the sporadic social event. I mean, let's be honest, in Orange County you pretty much have to drive to go anywhere, and when you go somewhere you're there. There's no taking the metro to the Rodin museum, then walking over to les Invalides because it's right there, and then walking back through the winding roads of St-Germain with expensive and fine boutiques worth ogling at endlessly. No, once you go to South Coast Plaza or Newport Center you're there, and there's no where to go down the street.

But, you know, despite my initial thoughts, despite all my desires to find some day job to get me out of the house regularly and earn a couple extra bucks, and despite all my thoughts of how boring it would be to sit around the house, I actually am sort of enjoying it. Is it wrong that I actually desire laziness in some part of myself, that my body wasn't wired to work 9 hours straight day-in-day-out with overtime on Wednesday and Friday nights and the occasional Saturday afternoon in the office? I'm sorry, but that's just not me, and if that's what the modern workplace will require of me, well, maybe I'm just not cut out for that. I mean, if the work was mostly doing things I enjoy, like imagining future communities or designing walkable cityscapes, well, I might be OK with it. But data entry, phone answering, and the regular office mini-drama just don't inspire me. I know, I've been there.

Needless to say, I don't think I'm going to be pursuing a position on Wall Street any time soon. Or Madison Avenue. Or Fifth Avenue, even. But no matter what street or avenue (or boulevard or highway or, God forbid, US Route) I find myself on in the oh-so near future, I am content to have had this summer. Call it a summer of soul-searching. Call it a voyage of self-discovery. Call it a return to my roots. Heck, call it my lazy-bum summer. In the end, this summer has been much more appropriate, much more of what I need than any other summer I've ever had. I mean, if summer, time of bright and sunny, excruciatingly hot days is meant for productivity and resume-boosting, well, let's just say something is very backward with our culture. I mean, why do you think Paris is occupied by more tourists than it is by actual locals during the summer? Because the locals don't want to be home working their butts off in hot and humid weather, they'd rather get away while they still can. And, well, the government gives them 6 weeks vacation in order to do that.

So, excuse me for being into relaxation, for treasuring the moments of bliss that occur when you get a steaming hot cup of coffee with a friend and just take a break for conversation. Or the times when you get to sleep until your awakened by the sun breaking through the marine layer at about 11. I mean, I know it's only temporary, I know I'll have to return to stress and work and classes and grades and deadlines and all that come September. But for now, it's nice to have the time to recharge.

And, well, go figure, despite it being summer and a time of relation, I've somehow come to be in the best physical shape in my life. So, I don't know, maybe torturing yourself with endless work for the dollar is not all that important in the end. One way or another I know I'll be comfortable later in life, and that's all I really need. Besides, I can't say that I really need that new CLK 500 more than the homeless vet at the 22 offramp, if his sign is correct, needs a burger or a beer or whatever. Relaxation, contentedness, and satisfaction that I am living a life fulfilled--well, as a MasterCard ad would tell me (somewhere up in those buildings on Madison)..."priceless."