talking in circles

I had a lovely lunch with lovely Sue today. Cheap sushi and good conversation. We were talking about some big things, and the good thing about Sue is that she understands the complexities of the questions I relate to her. We are both lapsed engineers*, which seems to imply that we enjoy things that are not logical, but also get frustrated by those same things because they are not logical.

For example:

Question: What is good art?
Answer: Good art is redemptive and honest.

Question: How does one make good art?
Answer: Be honest.
But I can be as honest as I want - that still may not result in a good song, for instance.
And even I work hard and put my heart into it, it may not yield anything.

It seems to me that all the questions worth asking are hard to answer, which makes sense I guess - questions go away with answers. I just find myself talking in circles, missing the point a lot, especially here, in this blog. I mean, I know it's entertaining to watch that hamster in the wheel, but for how long?

But what if you relate to that hamster? Then, it's more than entertainment, it's searching. Maybe I'll write a song about it.

This entry didn't really have a point, but I will leave it that way, because it seems appropriate.



*Sue's term.

fitting in

When I was younger (I won't say how much younger because it might be embarrassing.) I wrote a punk song about how I didn't want to fit in. But as I get older, the more and more I realize that isn't true. I do want to fit in. I think the punk song was more about what I wanted to want, rather than what I actually wanted. Because when you want to fit in, you so often get disappointed, so it's much better just to not want it.

This question has been bouncing around in my brain since the end of the year. I have been to a few different places - U of T, Sheridan, La Pocatiere, high school, Skule Nite, various churches, various classes - and I'm wondering where I actually fit. In high school, I was the smart one, so I went to U of T. At U of T, I was the theatre one, so I went to Sheridan. And now, at Sheridan, I don't know what I am, so I don't know where to go next.

So here's the question: do you fit in where you blend in the most or where you stand out the most? Denise Norman told me that I was unique, which I have heard before, but honestly, hasn't everyone?* But if I am truly unique, maybe I won't blend in anywhere. Maybe the place where I belong is where who I am will be brought to light, and that might be shown by contrast rather than in a context of similar people.

I don't know. Maybe there is no such place.


*Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?