This is not the sound of a new man or a crispy realization It’s the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Justine Vernon, mother of Justin Vernon
My favorite song is “Re:Stacks,” the last one on the record. I think it is a very beautiful song and I love the emotion in it. I especially like the part, “there’s a black crow sitting across from me, his wiry legs are crossed, he’s dangling my keys, he even fakes a toss; whatever could it be that has brought me to this loss.” Even though there is sadness here, I think this song is more about hope, “it’s the sound of the unlocking and lift away, your love will be safe with me.” To me, it is not about getting over things and moving forward, it is about going through the sadness, taking some of it with you and being made whole because of it. I cry every time I listen to it.
The past couple of weeks I have been listening to these songs endlessly everyday. Each time I head out to do stuff, I find myself rushing to get back home just so I could play these three tracks on constant repeat, it’s crazy. No use attempting to deconstruct the lyrics—this is another one of those random things. I was probably more attracted to the musical qualities of the songs and not the meanings embedded between the lines.
**** (7/7/2010 6:09:03 PM): dude, I have so many movies to watch with you!
Me (7/7/2010 6:15:03 PM): airbender, inception, what else?
**** (7/7/2010 6:15:27 PM): oh, there’s predators, too, by robert rodriguez.
**** (7/7/2010 6:15:42 PM): still at the office?
Me (7/7/2010 6:17:37 PM): yep
**** (7/7/2010 6:18:08 PM): awwww….. you can do it! the countdown!
Me (7/7/2010 6:18:54 PM): 6.5 weeks
**** (7/7/2010 6:21:27 PM): okay, 6.5 weeks….. let’s be foodies these 6.5!
Me (7/7/2010 6:22:36 PM): =)
**** (7/7/2010 6:23:07 PM): kfc tomorrow, and something weally obscure next week!
Me (7/7/2010 6:23:45 PM): sounds like a plan
**** (7/7/2010 6:23:54 PM): it does!
Dear ****,
Thank you for cheering me up by way of these quick chats and promises of food, films and booze (my heart’s true weaknesses). Been feeling like walking crap for weeks now and I’m glad you came down to see me when I really needed some beers and laughs to get my mind off stuff. Meant a lot to me xx
M was right. At this rate, I should already be a major shareholder of Reyes Barbecue at the Technohub.
***
If you really knew me well enough, you’d know that it would take around 5 to 6 bottles of my favourite Red Horse to get me solidly drunk (due to my dwindling tolerance for alcohol). If you really loved me, you’d let me drink more than that. But if you really really loved me to pieces, you’d clean me up when I vomit my guts out and you’d hide my phone to prevent me from drunk texting/calling and generally making a massive ass of myself.
***
I don’t think I can ever get with anyone who thinks drinking by your lonesome is a loser-ish thing to do.
***
Tal vez en otras circunstancias podríamos ser grandes amigos.
What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Quit two months into a job (for various reasons).
Travelled like crazy.
Lived the life of a bum for seven months and managed to blow my life savings in the process.
Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
No. New Years’ resolutions have gotten old and boring.
Did anyone close to you give birth?
My good friend Chloe now has a beautiful boy.
Did anyone close to you die?
Two uncles and my friend Mike.
What countries did you visit?
HK+Macau, Indonesia, Thailand, Taiwan, the US.
What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
More money in my savings account. Solid career plans. A more exciting social life…?
Which dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory?
The 15th of July, 3-5 December.
What was your biggest achievement of the year?
The essay writing thingo maybe.
What was your biggest failure?
Being unable to derive satisfaction from the work that I do.
Did you suffer illness or injury?
Chronic fatigue and stress for a couple of months early in the year.
What was the best thing you bought?
Books, plane tickets to various places.
Whose behaviour merited celebration?
—
Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
A few cocky dudes from work, but it’s all good in the hood.
Where did most of your money go?
Travelling.
What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Travelling.
Indonesia + the ASEAN + Sec-Gen Surin.
What song/album will always remind you of 2009?
Anything Passion Pit, Friendly Fires, The XX, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Metric, among others. Passion Pit’s Sleepyhead, Grizzly Bear’s Two Weeks and Phoenix’s 1901 especially.
Compared to this time last year, are you:
happier or sadder? A little sadder, I have to admit.
thinner or fatter? Thinner, surprisingly.
richer or poorer? POORER. No question about it.
What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exactly the same answer as last year’s: Reading. Walking outdoors. Attending conferences. Hanging out with mates. Listening to more new music. Watching more films. Saving more money. Travelling in SEA!!! Also, to add: Writing. Working harder.
What do you wish you’d done less of?
I wish I hadn’t slacked off so much.
How will you be spending Christmas?
In Seattle with family.
Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?
No one. For 2010 I’d like to have someone who will talk my ear off over the phone for a change.
Did you fall in love in 2009?
No. 2009 was the year of the great romance drought.
How many one night stands in this last year?
See previous answer.
What was your favourite TV programme?
I have long lost interest in TV.
Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
No. Hate does not have a place in my life.
What was the best book(s) you read?
The Fountainhead. The Moon and Sixpence.
What was your greatest musical discovery?
Passion Pit. Friendly Fires. God I love those bands.
What did you want and get?
Trips to all the countries I went to.
What did you want and not get?
A good and fulfilling job.
What were your favourite films of this year?
Off the top of my head (these films did not necessarily come out in ’09): Basquiat, Sideways, Paris Je T’aime, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, The Royal Tenenbaums.
What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 27. Spent three days in Taiwan by myself and I had the most awesome time. I hope to be able to disappear into a new country (alone) on my succeeding birthdays.
What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
A job that made me happy.
How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Most days I just didn’t give a damn anymore about how I looked. As long as I wasn’t too shabby and unkempt, that was fine.
What kept you sane?
Books. Movies. Music. The Internet. Travel. Family. Friends. Faith in God.
Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Hmm. Abhisit Vejjajiva. Wes Anderson. Ryan Reynolds is also quite cute.
What political issue stirred you the most?
The big issues in Southeast Asia – Burma, ASEAN human rights, the charter, etc.
Who did you miss?
All my friends from all over, especially those in Australia.
Who was the best new person you met?
To be honest, I haven’t made that many interesting friends the past year. Fail of the worst kind. My social life is in shambles.
Quote a song lyric that sums up your year?(Scribbled this down in my Moleskine, from Goodbye Chunky Rice)This town is washed up for you. You’re like a little flower that’s outgrown its pot and needs to be transplanted in order to keep growing.
- The Gunshots Incident: One sleepy weekday in Sydney two years ago, R, N, Mike and I were hanging out in our flat. R, N and I were exchanging ghost stories whilst Mike lay soundly asleep on our comfy beach chair out in the balcony (he missed siesta that day and thus he was out cold). Out of nowhere, we heard noises that vaguely sounded like gunshots. R asked, “Weren’t those gunshots?!”. I said I had no idea. We heard the sound again, and R confirmed that it was indeed a gun being fired. The three of us were freaked shitless and went down on all fours. R then instinctively hid behind my hard-shell suitcase (which was in the living room), N used the couch as a shield and I sought cover behind a fricken bean bag (yes, I was the brainiest of them all). I asked them if I should call 000 (Australia’s 911) and they said yes, and I nervously crawled my way to the phone. At some stage we realised that no one had remembered to wake up Mike who was sleeping outside and whose life was exposed to certain danger. N grudgingly crawled to the glass door to rouse him from slumber. Mike was grumpy as anything, asking why the hell we woke him up. We told him about the gunshots and he looked at us as if we had collectively gone mental. He thought it was the maddest, wildest story ever. “Gunshots?! What the…I KNOW the sound of gunshots. That was the sound of banging metal coming from the construction site next door.” We laughed like retards for the next hour or so. Every now and then I recall that day with fondness and still continue laugh my ass off.
- Mike’s animated stories about Emily, the ghost who inhabits T’s apartment. He claims prior to her ‘apparition’ he had never believed in those things. We eventually gave Emily a legitimate identity, creating stories and theories about who she really is. Mike and N spent quite some time hanging at our flat after the Emily encounter, to avoid crossing paths with her again.
- A lot of my memories of Mike involve food and booze. There was the drinking contest with the horse gameboard (where every single person at the party ended up roaring drunk, what with the nasty, nasty drinks and the epic hardcoreness of that game). There was the time he came to El Barrio with P and N to have a few San Miguels with us, even after he said he couldn’t promise to make it that night. There was the time (post-gunshots incident) that we drank every single drop of liquor in our flat and cooked literally all of the food in our fridge. Mike creatively whipped up a mean chili con carne-ish dish using all our leftovers, and we wolfed that down with an inordinate amount of rice at around 3 in the morning. He also cooked some fantastic lechon kawali at our Christmas party whilst I brought some binagoongang baboy – that was all the food we had, and our poor Muslim friend had to settle for a slice of cake for dinner. Mike grew up extremely privileged, but whenever he would hang at our place, he insisted on doing the dishes. He was exceedingly proud of the efficient manual dishwashing system he had developed, and would even go as far as cleaning the sink, counter and stove each time.
- The last time I saw Mike post-Sydney he repeatedly joked that I looked pudgy (in his words, “You gained weight!”). It makes me smile just remembering how irrepressible he was. What a character.
1. My favourite author discussing his kinder, gentler philosophy of success at TED
2. This note my friend posted on Facebook (to which I commented: “Incredibly spot on and very relevant to my circumstances at the moment”).
On Work
by Kent Nerburn
I often hear people say, “I have to find myself.” What they really mean is, “I have to make myself.” Life is an endlessly creative experience, and we are making ourselves every moment by every decision we make.
That is why the work you choose for yourself is so crucial to your sense of value and well-being. No matter how much you might believe that your work is nothing more than what you do to make money, your work makes you who you are, because it is where you put your time.
I remember several years ago when I was intent upon building my reputation as a sculptor. I took a job driving a cab, because, as I told people, “I want some job that I will never confuse with a profession.” Yet within six months, I was talking like a cab driver, thinking like a cab driver, looking at the world through the eyes of a cab driver. My anecdotes came from my job, as did my observations about life. I became embroiled in the personalities and politics of the company for which I worked and developed the habits and rhythms of life that went along with my all-night driving shift. On the days when I did not drive and instead worked on my sculpture, I still carried the consciousness of a cab driver with me.
Whether I liked it or not, I was a cab driver.
This happens to anyone who takes a job. Even if you hate a job and keep a distance from it, you are defining yourself in opposition to the job by resisting it. By giving the job your time, you are giving it your consciousness. And it will, in turn, fill your life with the reality that it presents.
Many people ignore this fact. They choose a profession because it seems exciting, or because they can make a lot of money, or because it has some prestige in their minds. They commit themselves to their work, but slowly find themselves feeling restless and empty. The time they have to spend on their work begins to hang heavy on their hands, and soon they feel constricted and trapped.
They join the legions of humanity who Thoreau said lead lives of quiet desperation – unfulfilled, unhappy and uncertain of what to do.
Yet the lure of financial security and the fear of the unknown keep them from acting to change their lives, and their best energies are spent creating justifications for staying where they are or inventing activities outside of work that they hope will provide them with a sense of meaning.
But these efforts can never be totally successful. We are what we do, and the more we do it, the more we become it. The only way out is to change our lives or to change our expectations for our lives. And if we lower our expectations we are killing our dreams, and a man without dreams is already half dead.
So you need to choose your work carefully. You need to look beyond the external measurements of prestige and money and glamour to see what you will be doing on a day-to-day, hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute basis to see if that is how you want to spend your time. Time may not be the way you measure the value of your work, but it is the way you experience it.
What you need to do is think of work as “vocation.” This word may seem stilted in its tone, but it has a wisdom within it. It comes from the Latin word for calling, which comes from the word for voice. In those meanings it touches on what work really should be. It should be something that calls to you as something you want to do, and it should be something that gives voice to who you are and what you want to say to the world.
So a true vocation calls to you to perform it and it allows your life to speak. This is very different from work, which is just an exchange of labor for money. It is even very different from a profession, which is an area of expertise you have been sanctioned to represent.
A vocation is something you feel compelled to do, or at least something that fills you with a sense of meaning. It is something you choose because of what it allows you to say with your life, not because of the money it pays you or the way it will make you appear to others. It is, above all else, something that lets you love.
When you find a vocation, embrace it with your whole heart. Few people are so lucky. They begin their search for work with an eye to the wrong prize, so when they win, they win something of little value. They gain money or prestige, but they lose their hearts. Eventually their days become nothing more than a commodity that they exchange for money, and they begin to shrivel and die.
I often think of a man I met on the streets of Cleveland. He was an assembly-line worker in an automobile plant. He said his work was so hateful that he could barely stand to get up in the morning. I asked him why he didn’t quit. “I’ve only got thirteen more years to go to retirement,” he answered. And he meant it. His life had so gotten away from him that he was willing to accept a thirteen-year death sentence for his spirit rather than give up the security it earned.
When I spoke with him I was about twenty. I was young and free; I didn’t understand what he was saying at all. It seemed incomprehensible to me that a man could have become so defeated by life that he was willing to let his life die as he held it in his hands.
Now I understand too well. Lured by what had seemed like big money at the time, he had chosen a job that didn’t offer him any inner satisfaction. He lived a good life, rolling from paycheck to paycheck and getting the car or the boat that he had always dreamed of having. Year by year he advanced, because businesses reward perseverance. His salary went up, his options for other types of employment went down, and he settled into a routine that financed his life. He married, bought a house, had children, and grew into middle age. The job that had seemed like freedom when he was young became a deadening routine. Year by year he began to hate it. It choked him, but he had no means of escape. He needed its money to live; no job he might change to would pay him as much as he was currently making. His fear for the health and security of his family kept him from breaking free into a world where all things were possible but no things were paid for, and so he gave in.
“I’ve only got thirteen more years to retirement” was a prisoner’s way of counting the days until the job would release him and pay him for his freedom.
Most people’s lives are a variation on that theme. So few take the time when they are young to explore the real meaning of the jobs they are taking or to consider the real implications of the occupations to which they are committing their lives.
Some have no choice. Without money, without training, with the pressures of life building around them, they choose the best alternative that offers itself. But many others just fail to see clearly. They chase false dreams, and fall into traps they could have avoided if they had listened more closely to their hearts when choosing their life’s work.
But even if you listen closely to your heart, making the right choice is difficult. You can’t really know what it is you want to do by thinking about it. You have to do it and see how it fits. You have to let the work take you over until it becomes you and you become it; then you have to decide whether to embrace it or abandon it. And few have the courage to abandon something that defines their security and prosperity.
Yet there is no reason why a person cannot have two, three or more careers in the course of a life. There is no reason why a person can’t abandon a job that does not fit anymore and strike out into the unknown for something that lies closer to the heart. There is risk, there is loss, and there likely will be privation. If you have allowed your job to define your sense of self-worth, there may even be a crisis of identity. But no amount of security is worth the suffering of a life lived chained to a routine that has killed all your dreams.
You must never forget that to those who hire you, your labor is a commodity. You are paid because you provide a service that is useful. If the service you provide is no longer needed, it doesn’t matter how honorable, how diligent, how committed you have been in your work. If what you can contribute is no longer needed, you are no longer needed and you will be let go. Even if you’ve committed your life to the job, you are, at heart, a part of the commercial exchange, and you are valuable only so long as you are a significant contributor to that commercial exchange. It is nothing personal; it’s just the nature of economic transaction.
So it does not pay to tie yourself to a job that kills your love of life. The job will abandon you if it has to. You can abandon the job if you have to.
The man I met in Cleveland may have been laid off the year before he was due to retire. He may have lost his pension because of a legal detail he never knew existed. He may have died on the assembly line while waiting to put a bolt in a fender.
I once had a professor who dreamed of being a concert pianist. Fearing the possibility of failure, he went into academics where the work was secure and the money was predictable. One day, when I was talking to him about my unhappiness in my graduate studies, he walked over and sat down at his piano. He played a beautiful glisando and then, abruptly, stopped. “Do what is in your heart,” he said. “I really only wanted to be a concert pianist. Now I spend every day wondering how good I might have been.”
Don’t let this be your epitaph at the end of your working life. Find out what it is that burns in your heart and do it. Choose a vocation, not a job, and you will be at peace. Take a job instead of finding a vocation, and eventually you will find yourself saying, “I’ve only got thirteen more years to retirement,” or “I spend every day wondering how good I might have been.”
Howard Roark/Ayn Rand; Michelangelo Buonarroti/Irving Stone; Charles Strickland/Paul Gauguin/Somerset Maugham…for teaching me not to compromise for anything or for anyone. For making me stick to my deeply held principles. For showing me that it’s not cool to settle for any job just for the sake of having a job. For inspiring me to make it my life mission to chase after what I am truly passionate about. For making me excited to work 20-hour days without complaint, because doing what you really like doing makes you forget time and renders you immune to exhaustion. For making me realise that money and fame are only secondary to integrity and a vocation that will define you. For teaching me to not give a damn what people say, it’s my life to live anyway.
