03.20.07
Yesterday I joined a crowd protesting the Iraq war down Michigan Avenue in Chicago. It went from Michigan Ave to Wacker and down Clark to the Daley Plaza. I left the crowd when they hit Clark. I wanted to be part of it and wanted to be uplifted in some sort of spirit. I ran towards the crowd to join them, glad that I caught it in time, and hoped I didn’t miss too much that had already passed. It was cold outside and I was still somewhat toasty from my nine mile run outside by the lake. Before I joined them, I went back to my apartment and changed into dry clothes as quickly as I could and darted right back out towards the crowd still heading down Michigan. Helicopters were everywhere taking video shots and probably news broadcasting the whole event. I was monitoring them as I was running north by the lake for the whole hour and fifteen that I was running wondering when the protest would start or break and if I could make it in time, funny how I value my run over the protest and wouldn’t dare consider giving up my run and had to finish it first. The police force was everywhere too. Seems like there was one for every protestor, even though the turn out was about 4000 people marching. Most of them seem to cluster around the banks with shields over their faces, helmets, bulletproof vests, and long black sticks poised. Someone handed me a poster when I stepped into the mass. I took it and held it up. I chanted softly with the few chanters around me who were faint and barely audible like me. I didn’t know what I should be doing, screaming or acting civil. What were the rules? There were a lot of cops around. There must be rules. Life is full of rules and with cops with big, heavy clubs ready, I would have hoped that someone would have explained to me the rules. Have it posted on one of the millions of banners for Christ sakes or something. I could have done something wrong, terrible, and been put in jail! Anyway, Chicago is a city filled with meek people and I was too self absorbed with myself and analyzing the entire event. The people are dead. Rocks have more energy. Yet their buildings are bursting with energy, full of so much strength, beauty, and originality. It gives me chills and freaks me out when I take a good look around me sometimes. You feel like those building are giants possessing some mystical powers as they hover over you. But the people are dead as sticks. Some protestors around me were giving tours to other people around them about which building was what and what they called the street they were on as magnificent mile, etc... People were walking forward only because the person in front of them was walking forward. If the crowd in front came to a stop, they did so as well. It was like watching one of those bad movies where you’re totally out of the movie world and just complaining the whole time about the movie and the unrealistically of the whole thing. I was standing there, walking at crawl pace wondering what I was doing, how was this helping, and wondering if the temperature was really dropping, as it felt like it was with every few feet we moved. I didn’t realize until half way through the march that my sign was upside down too, making the whole dead people in Chicago more deadly real. I wasn’t helping the cause, just embarrassing myself and the entire event. The crowd was depressing to look at only because it was so type categorized and had no real motley feel to it. The majority were either old folks, destitute people, or young hippy groups. These were people you’ll find in one of those reenacted woodstock concerts. The crowd was so foreign to me after spending hours in a corporate office setting with anal ass people with clean cut faces with sharp hair cuts and clothes that looked freshly bought all the time. Even on Fridays, their jeans looked pristine and never scruffy. Almost everyone in the crowd look scruffy or worn down either from age or from poverty. I didn’t feel uplifted or inspirationally changed from the event. I felt pathetic and left the crowd to continue on without me after about 40 minutes in the cold. Maybe I was looking for a riot of energy coming from these people or a riot to join in and get myself put in jail so I’d have a legitimate excuse for missing work tomorrow, but all I got was just zombies walking forward with signs, mine was upside down by the way. There were many of them shouting, some microphoning and raising chants, drums were played, etc., but the overall effect wasn’t right because it was all too low profiled and muffled, like a noise cancelling, filtering screen was placed over the whole event. I know it was a nonviolent protest, but you’ll see the same bunch of people having more passion and displaying more vigor when the SOX won the world series in 2006. That night was filled with people celebrating past 3am honking their horns and screaming like they just contracted mad cow disease. So what’s the difference? No beer this time?
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
Chicago Winter
03.19.07
The winter in Chicago was rough. I basically counted my days down while in-flight from Los Angeles to Chicago as to when I would get back to Los Angeles. This coming from someone who hates Los Angeles too! There’s no sun in Chicago or at least 6 hours of it or something like that. During the day you get a hazy grey sky and it’s too damn cold to even think about going outside. You’re cooped up all the time and wondering when mother nature will let up. There were two or three times where I ventured out for a run, desperately needing to get outside. Even though I was extremely careful about the ice patches and walked through them, I still slipped and fell hitting the back of my head on the concrete and then as I came back around fell again in the same damn spot, but this time forwards on my hands. Then I tried nonchalantly to get myself up as if nothing happened and tried my best to retain the look of a professional runner while all the time cursing at the damn snow everywhere and feeling stupid at my attempt to defy a frictionless surface and my stupidity of having premature, good thoughts about outside conditions. There were so many L.A. weekends where I would spend hours outside sitting in the sun, like those sea lions I saw behind the fish market in Chile, just to try to catch up on my sunlight. Every weekend, I made sure to avoided all shady areas as I walked around outside. I’m actually still doing the “avoid shady areas” routine now. It’s counter intuitive for me since I normally avoid being in the direct sunlight, hence the hat and long sleeves all the time. During the summer, I complain endlessly about Los Angeles’ burning sun and force myself to go running at 6-7am to avoid the blazing sun, and no matter what, I can’t cake enough sun block on and somehow end up still getting darker each time. Now all I do is just bask in the sun like a desperate plant. Ironic isn’t it. Then at the low point, I start to question my existence and all that shit, sitting at my work desk asking myself what’s the point and all, and then wondering how much money I need to retire. But then I don’t think I’ll enjoy a retired life either. I picture myself as a retiree. Waking up late, staying up late, eating all my meals late, going to the gym late, playing tennis at night, running at night, reading into the night, only consuming, wouldn’t my brain rot? What I think I need is a change. I need to get onto a different project or something. The galore is all gone here at work. The first year of any project is exciting and challenging, full of unknowns and possibilities, a chance to make great impressions and big changes in a company’s procedures. In about a year, things become routine and you’re on autopilot, doing nothing meaningful but just attending meetings, discussions, and writing emails all day. You start thinking about the world around you and how you’ve totally dropped out of that world. The market has changed, you’ve changed, everything has moved forward and you have not. A year and a half, you’re questioning your value and itching for something new to happen, anything to happen, lightening to strike, anything! After two years, you’re about to slit your wrist from the boredom and mundanity of the entire corporate world and start hating everyone around you, even the innocent ones. (I’m at two years.) Then you look at all the slobs there, who have been with this company for 12 years or have been doing the same shit forever, or worked with this SAP product for two decades now and wonder what the fuck is wrong with them. Don’t they see that this entire thing is rather pathetic? Then it goes a full circle and it comes right back to me. There must be something wrong with me and not them, right? You know, writing this is rather therapeutic, not that I’m getting a light bulb suddenly appearing over my head or anything now, but at least I can attempt to try to figure things out. Anyway, I then start thinking about my family, at least just my dad’s side. It’s inside of me, to do what I do, to continue on and have no reason but just a desire to make money, but no real use for the money at the end, but just to have it and have more of it. Sometimes laziness arises from my mother’s side here and there, actually quite often more than I like, but I understand why my aunts and uncles and my father are the way they are, and hence me. There’s no logic behind it all but just a powerful desire, which I question every so often when I’m bored and have too much time to think. Best not to think right? Kids are in the best situation. They just go about playing with no worries and no responsibilities to fill. Their troubles are fleeting and soon forgotten. Does this all make any sense? I don’t know what I’m saying anymore because what ARE my troubles? I don't think I have any real ones, just mental drama. Think I’m experiencing midlife crisis too soon in my life. I should just focus on the next hour of what I should do and forget about the next year of what I should do. I think I need to go for a run is what I think! Sorry for all this writing. It was entertaining for me at least.
The winter in Chicago was rough. I basically counted my days down while in-flight from Los Angeles to Chicago as to when I would get back to Los Angeles. This coming from someone who hates Los Angeles too! There’s no sun in Chicago or at least 6 hours of it or something like that. During the day you get a hazy grey sky and it’s too damn cold to even think about going outside. You’re cooped up all the time and wondering when mother nature will let up. There were two or three times where I ventured out for a run, desperately needing to get outside. Even though I was extremely careful about the ice patches and walked through them, I still slipped and fell hitting the back of my head on the concrete and then as I came back around fell again in the same damn spot, but this time forwards on my hands. Then I tried nonchalantly to get myself up as if nothing happened and tried my best to retain the look of a professional runner while all the time cursing at the damn snow everywhere and feeling stupid at my attempt to defy a frictionless surface and my stupidity of having premature, good thoughts about outside conditions. There were so many L.A. weekends where I would spend hours outside sitting in the sun, like those sea lions I saw behind the fish market in Chile, just to try to catch up on my sunlight. Every weekend, I made sure to avoided all shady areas as I walked around outside. I’m actually still doing the “avoid shady areas” routine now. It’s counter intuitive for me since I normally avoid being in the direct sunlight, hence the hat and long sleeves all the time. During the summer, I complain endlessly about Los Angeles’ burning sun and force myself to go running at 6-7am to avoid the blazing sun, and no matter what, I can’t cake enough sun block on and somehow end up still getting darker each time. Now all I do is just bask in the sun like a desperate plant. Ironic isn’t it. Then at the low point, I start to question my existence and all that shit, sitting at my work desk asking myself what’s the point and all, and then wondering how much money I need to retire. But then I don’t think I’ll enjoy a retired life either. I picture myself as a retiree. Waking up late, staying up late, eating all my meals late, going to the gym late, playing tennis at night, running at night, reading into the night, only consuming, wouldn’t my brain rot? What I think I need is a change. I need to get onto a different project or something. The galore is all gone here at work. The first year of any project is exciting and challenging, full of unknowns and possibilities, a chance to make great impressions and big changes in a company’s procedures. In about a year, things become routine and you’re on autopilot, doing nothing meaningful but just attending meetings, discussions, and writing emails all day. You start thinking about the world around you and how you’ve totally dropped out of that world. The market has changed, you’ve changed, everything has moved forward and you have not. A year and a half, you’re questioning your value and itching for something new to happen, anything to happen, lightening to strike, anything! After two years, you’re about to slit your wrist from the boredom and mundanity of the entire corporate world and start hating everyone around you, even the innocent ones. (I’m at two years.) Then you look at all the slobs there, who have been with this company for 12 years or have been doing the same shit forever, or worked with this SAP product for two decades now and wonder what the fuck is wrong with them. Don’t they see that this entire thing is rather pathetic? Then it goes a full circle and it comes right back to me. There must be something wrong with me and not them, right? You know, writing this is rather therapeutic, not that I’m getting a light bulb suddenly appearing over my head or anything now, but at least I can attempt to try to figure things out. Anyway, I then start thinking about my family, at least just my dad’s side. It’s inside of me, to do what I do, to continue on and have no reason but just a desire to make money, but no real use for the money at the end, but just to have it and have more of it. Sometimes laziness arises from my mother’s side here and there, actually quite often more than I like, but I understand why my aunts and uncles and my father are the way they are, and hence me. There’s no logic behind it all but just a powerful desire, which I question every so often when I’m bored and have too much time to think. Best not to think right? Kids are in the best situation. They just go about playing with no worries and no responsibilities to fill. Their troubles are fleeting and soon forgotten. Does this all make any sense? I don’t know what I’m saying anymore because what ARE my troubles? I don't think I have any real ones, just mental drama. Think I’m experiencing midlife crisis too soon in my life. I should just focus on the next hour of what I should do and forget about the next year of what I should do. I think I need to go for a run is what I think! Sorry for all this writing. It was entertaining for me at least.
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