Commitments and the People Who Commit to Them
*This post is not about commitment specifically. Originally it was intended to be, but the author got hungry for something more tangential during the process. You know how it is, right?*
I am sometimes left awash in the turbulent waters known as my mind, and the debris occasionally clogs in the sink. Times like these you want to run and hide, or stand and fight, but with spring there comes a reckoning. The winter worn mental roads fall away washed out by the spring of new possibilities. Change, renewal, and progress is brought forth with the freshest of the seasons. My mind wanders to thoughts of commitments, the mortar blocks of life which keep mortals aware of how flimsy and yet constricting our commitments can be. I was reading the blog of a friend who is taking a new job. Starting a new life with her fiance and moving forward. She has committed to herself, and committed to another person. I was engaged once, but it didn't hold. I am no Adam Smith, but I like my freedom George Michael style. Yes, cavorting with a bunch of half naked supermodels is how I spend my days. Hey, a guy has to have his options open.
"If you want to die in bed forget about your karma. When your life hangs by a thread, don't cry about the fates. Grab a stash of cash and plan a rest'rant in the States" - The Engineer in Miss Saigon
Options imply choice. Choice implies power. The implication is a veneer. We are a puppeteer's society, our marionnette figures dance to the tune played on from above. The author thinks of Moses Znaimer, or Marshall Mcluhan, dynamic thinkers who constructed forms of communication. These models of mass dissemination assist the education of society and bring innovation to marketing ideas. It makes me ruminate on the idea of social engineering. That bringing supply to need has existed since man could establish a fair trade. That is, trade without the threat of Og clobbering you with his mallet should your peaches be less than spring fresh. I was reading a Globe and Mail supplement on the nature of bureaucracy in Japan. Starting a business or engaging in capitalistic enterprise is fraught with enough "Red Tape" to make one think they were in Beijing. The Japanese economy is social capitalistic in nature. The advanced state of their technology blinds us to their socialistic underpinnings. We look at a nation's output more carefully than the structures that produce their Gross Domestic Product. Again, I blame television for that ;P
Options, everyone has them. Stockbrokers hawking pieces of paper on the trading floor. Pretty girls looking over a list of potential Saturday night dinner invitations. You can get any one of six different options with your extra value meal at Wendy's. You can't buy a car without any options. They would just look at you kinda funny like that. Options are about ceding control. Control is power. Where a power vacuum exists, a political entity forms. The politics of change and power, control and choice. I love how those words are Inextricably linked. Change, power, control and choice; These are the forces humanity must struggle with as we organize the world market.
"We'll Pack Up All Our Junk And Fly So Far Away Devote Ourselves To Projects That Sell. We'll Open Up A Restaurant In Santa Fe. Forget This Cold Bohemian Hell"-Collins,Mark, and Angel from RENT
Seriously, what is it about musicals and glorifying the food service industry? It's not an easy way to make a living. Transient, LOUD, and horny staff; more wasted food than dinner at Courtney Cox Arquette's house; add long hours and shrinking profits and you see my point. A Restauranteur is a noble profession. Whether slinging hash browns or proffering profiteroles, the food industry has a fast moving beat you can dance or screw to if you like. You don't necessarily commit to a restaurant, but you commit to the brotherhood of the industry. I've met a few professional wait and bar staff, and you can see the difference making a commitment to the industry has made to them. You can see it in their eyes. It's a sense of duty, of professionalism, a call to hors d'oeuvres as it seems. They make it look so effortless and rational. The abundance of choice in the menu, the multiplicity of experiences, the tapas of it all. Menu, I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you.
Much like the coming of spring, this is the time when I wipe my mind of these inconsequential notions. I once wrote "She will never feel for you like you feel for her." on a piece of paper and stuffed it in my chest pocket. A mental tourniquet of sorts, a staple in a heart that was breaking daily. Of course this was in winter time, where the long dark nights with cold breezes freeze tears to your cheek. I had committed to a lifetime of heartbreak, little did I know that spring would wash these notions away. Into the arms of another lover, into a garden of whistling dixies and a bandshell blasting away at the night. We commit to feelings because its the only thing keeping them real. When we waver in our commitment to hurt, to laugh, to cry or what have you, the dreams fade and the day breaks a new.
I can't take my mind off you. I can't take my mind...
My mind...my mind...'Til I find somebody new - Damien Rice
I am sometimes left awash in the turbulent waters known as my mind, and the debris occasionally clogs in the sink. Times like these you want to run and hide, or stand and fight, but with spring there comes a reckoning. The winter worn mental roads fall away washed out by the spring of new possibilities. Change, renewal, and progress is brought forth with the freshest of the seasons. My mind wanders to thoughts of commitments, the mortar blocks of life which keep mortals aware of how flimsy and yet constricting our commitments can be. I was reading the blog of a friend who is taking a new job. Starting a new life with her fiance and moving forward. She has committed to herself, and committed to another person. I was engaged once, but it didn't hold. I am no Adam Smith, but I like my freedom George Michael style. Yes, cavorting with a bunch of half naked supermodels is how I spend my days. Hey, a guy has to have his options open.
"If you want to die in bed forget about your karma. When your life hangs by a thread, don't cry about the fates. Grab a stash of cash and plan a rest'rant in the States" - The Engineer in Miss Saigon
Options imply choice. Choice implies power. The implication is a veneer. We are a puppeteer's society, our marionnette figures dance to the tune played on from above. The author thinks of Moses Znaimer, or Marshall Mcluhan, dynamic thinkers who constructed forms of communication. These models of mass dissemination assist the education of society and bring innovation to marketing ideas. It makes me ruminate on the idea of social engineering. That bringing supply to need has existed since man could establish a fair trade. That is, trade without the threat of Og clobbering you with his mallet should your peaches be less than spring fresh. I was reading a Globe and Mail supplement on the nature of bureaucracy in Japan. Starting a business or engaging in capitalistic enterprise is fraught with enough "Red Tape" to make one think they were in Beijing. The Japanese economy is social capitalistic in nature. The advanced state of their technology blinds us to their socialistic underpinnings. We look at a nation's output more carefully than the structures that produce their Gross Domestic Product. Again, I blame television for that ;P
Options, everyone has them. Stockbrokers hawking pieces of paper on the trading floor. Pretty girls looking over a list of potential Saturday night dinner invitations. You can get any one of six different options with your extra value meal at Wendy's. You can't buy a car without any options. They would just look at you kinda funny like that. Options are about ceding control. Control is power. Where a power vacuum exists, a political entity forms. The politics of change and power, control and choice. I love how those words are Inextricably linked. Change, power, control and choice; These are the forces humanity must struggle with as we organize the world market.
"We'll Pack Up All Our Junk And Fly So Far Away Devote Ourselves To Projects That Sell. We'll Open Up A Restaurant In Santa Fe. Forget This Cold Bohemian Hell"-Collins,Mark, and Angel from RENT
Seriously, what is it about musicals and glorifying the food service industry? It's not an easy way to make a living. Transient, LOUD, and horny staff; more wasted food than dinner at Courtney Cox Arquette's house; add long hours and shrinking profits and you see my point. A Restauranteur is a noble profession. Whether slinging hash browns or proffering profiteroles, the food industry has a fast moving beat you can dance or screw to if you like. You don't necessarily commit to a restaurant, but you commit to the brotherhood of the industry. I've met a few professional wait and bar staff, and you can see the difference making a commitment to the industry has made to them. You can see it in their eyes. It's a sense of duty, of professionalism, a call to hors d'oeuvres as it seems. They make it look so effortless and rational. The abundance of choice in the menu, the multiplicity of experiences, the tapas of it all. Menu, I can't take my eyes off of you... I can't take my eyes off of you.
Much like the coming of spring, this is the time when I wipe my mind of these inconsequential notions. I once wrote "She will never feel for you like you feel for her." on a piece of paper and stuffed it in my chest pocket. A mental tourniquet of sorts, a staple in a heart that was breaking daily. Of course this was in winter time, where the long dark nights with cold breezes freeze tears to your cheek. I had committed to a lifetime of heartbreak, little did I know that spring would wash these notions away. Into the arms of another lover, into a garden of whistling dixies and a bandshell blasting away at the night. We commit to feelings because its the only thing keeping them real. When we waver in our commitment to hurt, to laugh, to cry or what have you, the dreams fade and the day breaks a new.
I can't take my mind off you. I can't take my mind...
My mind...my mind...'Til I find somebody new - Damien Rice
3 Comments:
In my case you got 2 out of 3 correct: transient (not by choice necessarily) and LOUD. The horny bit? I think you're projecting. Hee. I liked your take on the professionalism in the eyes. It's in every industry and in all art. It's the finding, honing and mastering of the thing we were all individually placed on this Earth to do. And it's nothing short of magic when you see it in action.
You're so right about the commitment. It is the love. It is our responsibility.
Good on you, pet.
Well done.
By
Comrade Chicken, At
9:07 AM
Hmm. Well. You certainly know how to make a point.
I used to write like you do. Somewhere along the line I felt it necessary to censor myself, and I hope it never gets to that point with you, ever. I think it's one of the biggest mistakes my mind has ever made.
Be certain that I'll be lingering here for a while. (smiles)
By
Liz, At
11:37 PM
I think I do censor myself to a certain extent. I'm cognizant of the reality that people I know outside of the comfortable space of the Internet will be reading this. I've been told by a few people that I should consider writing a book. I think that notion is just slightly preposterous. My cloak is wrapped too tightly to ever be a professional writer. I can only give glimpses into my life and my struggles. The rest of it is my observations and attempts at wit and solipsism.
By
Rye, At
8:37 AM
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home