Being a university student, stuck like a pig in cement mistaken for mud, in the make-believe world of ‘enlightened’ academia and those oh-so-familiar discussions of globalization, the topic of America: “international police” inevitably pops up. Most of us don’t seem to have any strong feelings either way, but there’s always those stereotypical guys and gals preaching about how much we should revile them for their foreign policies, greedy corporations, arrogance, fat-asses, and anything in between. Of course there are plenty of great things Americans do, positive things internationally, cool inventions and innovations we all use today.
But I could never go to America. Whether on an flight switchover or driving through, life isn’t long enough for those two hour checkins even without the anal cavity searches. I can’t be bored. I have no ability to deal with it.
It’s why I can’t bring myself to care about religious services and all those other associated social events. Sitting cross-legged on a mat someplace listening to someone less interesting than a stamp prattle on for hours about how everyone should live for everyone else, I’d feel pieces of my sanity start to shed one by one until the trickle turns into a monsoon and I’m debating how quickly faking death will get me on the first stretcher out of there. Don’t get me started on the mindless chanting. Besides that though, I’m pretty content with being labelled Hindu; we have some pretty cool stories (with monkeys!), great art, architecture, and festivals where people walk on hot coals and dance around with sharp metal needles and stuff rammed through their skins.
Give me 15 minutes of walking as an alternative to waiting in a long line and i’ll sprint. Give me a car that’s not really practical, not really safe, with an engine that sings and fizzles and crackles and made by someone who isn’t an accountant. Give me sex that’s wild, dirty, nasty like it’s the last time you may ever have it. Give me color, noise, sound and fury, even when it’s not ‘efficient’ or just plain scary. Flawed is interesting, imaginative is interesting, so is difference and passion.
When people used to tackle me about my habit of falling asleep during class or maybe while they were talking (in one embarrassing case), There was a time when I would apologetically explain that I probably suffered from some kind of Attention Deficit Disorder that I just couldn’t help. But you live and you learn when shit happens. And maybe the most important thing is that even if you live to be 195, life will always be too short. So fuck that ADD shit, I don’t need to apologize being bored by the boring by saying it’s my fault.
It’s like in Jeet Kune Do, the martial art that is much more than just fighting: take only from life the important things, and remember the rest like you remember the last time you used the
toilet.
*flush*
Thinking out loud // 