"He Gave Me These Sounds"

:)

Happy? I wracked my brain for a subject to write about- something entirely happy... something purely innocent and devoid of the cruelties of the world... What did I come up with? Otters, pandas, and babies being calmed by pieces of musical genuis. If that's all you need to get through your day here are the links

Bob Marley bewitches with Buffalo Soldier and PSY pacifies with Gangnam Style

    

My job is done!

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Dissatisfied? Okay, okay, no need to get testy. Let's continue with this idea of the power of music, but let's add the complexity of age. Get ready to grind that nit and grit between your teeth, but look forward to the polished smile of being uplifted.

The great majority of us have had an elderly person in our lives that we cared about greatly and deeply. Many of us have experienced heart-wrenching loss when they passed, and just as many of us have faced that lingering flash of regret-- that helplessness when you pray to a higher being to let you take back all those times you were "too busy" to visit. Some of us have also gone through the devastating experience of watching our loved ones battle with dementia-- degenerative memory loss caused by a slew of terrible diseases. These things, these heartbreaking things are the inevitabilities of life. Though we may march to the beat of different drums, the parade of mortality always leads to an end.

Enough nit and grit? Good, now that we've tossed a handful of peanuts to the elephant in my blogger room let's commence to the uplifting. The following is a video of Henry who lives in an assisted living home. Like many residents he spends his day sitting silently-- a stranger to his past self-- "unresponsive and almost unalive." But there's magic in this cruel world...

"I figure right now the world needs to come into music"

Henry's liveliness both during and after the music is alive and tremendous. The change in demeanor, like a portal into the past, is evidence of music as the "quickening art." How does this happen? How can the intense pleasure we get from various types of intoxicating music become everlasting? When we enter a trance or out-of-body or even an excessively aware sensation does the trigger get smushed into our brain? Or is this footprint a unique, congenital feature of our brains waiting to be filled in by some musical puzzle piece?

Maybe magic can be found in other things-- smells, colors, taste, weather. Little everyday happinesses might turn out to be our Cab Calloway in our old age. (Cue uplifting) We all have these worries that we feel will never go away; we take the small things and escalate them to be "the end of me!" Yet the worries in the world are matched by the amount of wonderful, and even so, there are few things that tingle and impress our hearts. These few things are the tidbits that God or Life gives us. Maybe that means that as the years go by our worries will float to the back-burner brain cells-- the first to go kaput from neglect. Age will be good to us and leave only memories of the "beautiful lovely."

Let's cross our fingers that this is true, and that someday, when age has worn down and sagged the once taut and vibrant drumhead, we can still sing loud to its beat. Let's make room for the truly memorable: the smell of your grandparents' garden, the color of your lover's eyes, the taste of mom's fried eggplant, the chill of the indian summers you spent biking around the "world." Let's screw the small stuff because it's doomed to be outlasted by the good stuff anyway.

Go to an assisted living home. I challenge you to be the music in someone's life. Be the one to animate them, even for just a second-- even for just the length of a song.

Moving Back to the Coop

I quit Intel. That's right, an undergrad, whose curriculum in materials science & engineering holds silicon on a platinum pedestal, left the biggest semiconductor processing chip company in the world. Most of my interactions thus far have only cared about the why are you here? why leave? But, I've become increasingly aware of the How. How do I reaffirm my independence? How do I use this time rather than make it a second summer break? How do I continue to fuel my passion if the kindling of an unfulfilling job is smoldering? HOW DO I MOVE BACK IN WITH MY PARENTS?!

I won't leave you without context, without the Why: my moment of clarity came when I was locking the door to my apartment of two months. I've locked the door to many rooms before, but this moment has been the most... liberating-- the epitome of moving on. I lingered and stared through the half closed door. There was the kitchen that's seen more moldy dishes than food. There were the french doors whose blinds were always drawn and locked tight so that not a ray of sunshine wriggled through. There was the living room that begged for company, but only served as a place for my anguish and tears. Like saying adieu to your childhood doll house, I whispered a bittersweet good bye to my apartment and to the raggedy girl that haunted it.

It was strange. Opening a new chapter in life was always nervously exciting, but I never felt so conscious of the closing of a chapter. I wanted to rush back in and fall back into the fetal position on the ground. The chain of complacency clung to my heart, but couldn't get a grasp on my head. This is where I was at my lowest, where I couldn't feel a future, and where I threatened the relationships that feed me. It's time to leave that lifeless doll behind and become a real girl.

So what's the first step in becoming a real girl living in your parents' home? Cleaning out your old room. OH, GOOD LORD (#firstworldproblems). To give you some scale of the monster of nostalgia that's lived in my room, here's a list of some things I've found thus far:

• 2 garbage bags of clothing
• 1 garbage bag of purses
• 6 new photo albums
• 3 overly priced concert books (Backstreet Boys, N*SYNC, James Blunt)
• 4 medium trash cans of high school papers
• 10 notebooks at least half empty
• and a stack of books about 5 feet high found under my bed.

Not to mention about a dictionary's worth of writing from my middle-high school self that reeks of both forced and genuine teen angst. Finding and absorbing myself into these "treasures" was altogether upsetting, hilarious, and difficult. Not knowing the etiquette of handling precious material memories I've been tossing any and all school/artwork into the rubbish bin. Stories, poems, and even cartoons were haphazardly tossed by the hand that spent hours carefully crafting them. Worksheets and notes that were kept for future reference have met their obsolete end.

These stuffed toys and homecoming dresses are powerful reminders; our five senses spark the synapses of a degrading memory. But what are these reminders if they're shoved into the nooks of our homes, suffocated by other precious reminders? I have little remorse. If I could, I'd dump my room into the ocean. Ariel can fill ten troves with my junk. But for now I have to endure the dust and cobwebs, recount slivers of my past and decide if the material object is just as valuable. My room is less of a fire hazard and less of the angsty cavern it once was, but in no way is it less Me. I am Me and my memories have molded Me into that person.

Moving is an amazing act. Not the act of physical relocation that incites one to buy new furniture from Ikea, but the closure of what once was and the bright-eyed movement toward what you'd like to be. Moving is like packing a little piece of yourself into a box and hiding that away in your soul's garage where it's safe.

Marathon to The Forefront of My Mind

I started this blog because I am in the middle of a quarter-life crisis. I'm "living" the life: interning at a top engineering company, working with fantastic people, getting credit for school, residing in the PNW, and banking a hefty paycheck. But several weeks ago I became seriously unhappy-- I never really loved my internship, but all of a sudden I realized that I couldn't see a sliver of engineering in my future. I don't want to be in a lab or sit in a cubicle. I don't want to crunch numbers or pore over lab reports! *Cue pounding of fists and buckets o' tears*

So I did what any person born in the 90's would do when they're stuck. I Google'd for answers. I tried different searches looking for relatable stories:

"engineer turned into graphic designer"
"engineer into activist"
"engineer who believes rolling in dough isn't living"

The gist is, I shook up that search button like it was a Magic 8 Ball. Then I found it. A genuine article. A woman who was going through what I was going through. I've been reading this every morning before work...

http://workawesome.com/career/the-importance-of-doing-what-you-love/

Stephanie Lewis is a chemist by degree and an artist by nature and, like many of us, she strolled down the path of practicality. "Wouldn't I make more money if I went into the sciences instead of being a starving artist?" In education there are the subjects we naturally gravitate towards and then there are ones we like because we're "good at it." With the magic of the human mind, being "good" at something is cooked into a career. You're good at math? You're an engineer. You're good at chemistry? You're a pharmacist. You're good at arguing? You're a lawyer. Set it and forget it!

The further you stroll down this path, the further your passions trail behind. You're ideas, thoughts, and priorities are all running the marathon of life. Everyday concerns (family, friends, health, etc.) tend to stick around the middle of the pack-- once in a while they'll push up to the front of your brain for attention or trip-- inciting a hiccup of stress. But for some of us Career or Education like to keep a steady pace up front. We dedicate a good chunk of our Body and Mind nurturing Career and Education, exhausting our energy before we get to the stragglers-- those Little Loves and Hidden Passions. Tired and forgotten, they chill and mosey at the back of your mind until Body and Mind realize they've been out of sight (out of mind?). Thus, Passion is rejuvenated and heads to the front. Hopefully, Passion ends up running with Career and Education-- preferably holding hands and skipping, but at the moment they're vying for The Forefront of my mind. My thoughts have been racing. I don't know how to put them back on track and it's exhausting my Mind and Body.

This blog isn't just for me. It's for others out there who Google answers for their future. It's for those who believe in doing what you love, but have fallen into the complacency of a steady career. I don't want to leave them with just one post preaching the importance of doing what you love-- I want to grab hold of that idea(l) and live by it. I hope that this documentation of my thinkings will help those I know get to know me on a more... thought-out level. Most of all, I hope this documentation will serve as the foundation for discussion amongst Me's and the rejuvenation of all our Passions and Careers.