When yr brain won't S.T.F.U., resort to B.L.O.G.

What’s been harassing my brain lately? The fact that ultimately, we all want to matter. In the big picture, we all want to stand out in the world. To make our existence "significant". I want to be the next Annie Leibovitz. Christian wants to be the next Jimi Hendrix. Ben wants to be the next Steve Jobs. This brings me to the second part of my incessant thoughts: is life about coping with the fact that we will NEVER be that good? Is it our duty to swallow sadness and accept that we’ll never reach that level of “greatness” however you define it? My third thought: what does being a great photographer or guitarist or businessman even mean in the big picture. You didn’t save any lives. You didn’t help anybody. If you did, it’s disconnected and impersonal: a lonely teen found hope in your lyrics. To contradict that thought, what does it matter if you save a life? Are you hoping they will be eternally grateful? Is it possible to exist entirely for others? Are you saving lives to satisfy your own needs as a human or because you genuinely see a deep meaning in rescuing others? My other conundrum: I want to believe we’re all equal, that every one of us has the right to exist and the right to love what we love and know what we know. But this frustrates me, because people want so badly to convert you to their beliefs. I love Radiohead. Some people don’t. First thought: I can’t connect with this person over Radiohead, therefore I eagerly burn them every important album (all of them) and expect them to understand where I’m coming from. This furthers my exasperation: does music made by complete strangers actually define anything about me? On the surface, the answer is a resounding “YES.” I’m paranoid and cynical and weird. Sounds like Radiohead to me. But on the other hand, it means nothing. It’s music, a pastime in which some people don’t even indulge in. Holy shit. To think! Or the way we judge someone who says their favorite “musician” is Britney Spears. The implications and the subtext here are deep and almost unanimous: this girl is tasteless and retarded. It would be hard to not believe this girl has nothing to offer me as a person. But hold up. How fucking ridiculous is that? ONE facet of this poor soul’s personality, her taste in music, standing as the basis for the rest of her personality? That’s completely unfair, and wrong. She could be a surgeon, someone who doesn’t have time to find obscure live versions of underground bands that only you know about. My friend in med school’s favorite band is Coldplay. I scoff at this, thinking of how many bands are far more significant, bands who have transcended popularity and embraced originality, bands that “matter”. But that’s bullshit. Its not my place, or any of us for that matter. And of all people, I’m not in any position to judge him: I’m in art school. We write papers once a semester. I haven’t had to memorize anything, ever. The only thing I’ve gleaned from my schooling is a deep set superiority complex, a plague that afflicts every one of us. It actually makes me panic: the idea that my peers know more art or better, more obscure bands than me. I’m actually afraid to talk about music or art with my classmates, because I can hear them scoff under their breath as I tell them what I’m listening to. You can tell they don’t care, or they are basing much of my personality on what I’m telling them. We want to put everyone in a box. It makes them easier to digest. Sloan loves Brand New. I hate Brand New. Sloan and I will never get along. See! Now I don’t have to worry about furthering our relationship and complicating my life with another friend. It’s our cheat. To think that we could sincerely be friends with everyone we meet is a scary prospect. But if we weren’t all judgmental hipsters, it would be absolutely plausible. We could fucking talk to anyone. Instead, we look at what that person is wearing (NORTH FACE?) and what is playing on their iPod (My Chemical Romance…) and we make assumptions about who they are, and what they’re about. As a side note, Sloan and I are friends, despite her love of Brand New and my dislike. In the same vein, I met a friend of my friends, Alex, who was drunk on moonshine. He was raving about Ratatat and how amazing they were thanks to LSD. His rants about Ratatat not only upset me – I decided quickly that someone this drunk and reliant on hallucinogenics could not appreciate Ratatat with the same depth as me – but also frustrated me that he even knew of them. That old cliché of wanting a band to be your own little secret was still standing strong. A few months later, I saw the same kid. He apologized for being an ass the first time we met, and said that he hears I’m a “fucking cool dude” from all my friends. I’m flattered, and instantly feeling guilty for ever hating this kid. Eventually, I find out this backwards baseball-cap, oversized t-shirt wearing kid is a violinist, and has been for most of his life. This leads into an entire conversation about whether the guitar will remain the most prominent musical instrument or will it eventually lead into other realms in the future. I’m surprised by the breadth of his musical knowledge, and Alex proves that all of our perceptions are fucking wrong, and we need to let our egos fall to the wayside.