que sera, sera.

there is a being, wonderful, perfect; it existed before heaven and earth. how quiet it is! how spiritual it is! it stands alone and does not change. it moves around and around, but does not on this account suffer. all life comes from it. it wraps everything with its love as in a garment, and yet it claims no honor, for it does not demand to be Lord. i do not know its name, and so i call it Tao, the Way, and i rejoice in its power.

i lose myself in conversation as i sat on a window sill in the nighttime chill, puffing away on another dunhill. high outside a kerckhoff window, kim and i banter about the present, past, and future, every so often pausing to frame royce with our cigarette smoke and/or look down to comment or ponder about the various people walking up and down bruinwalk, traversing the campus at such a late hour. i shiver from the biting cold, regretful that i decided not to wear socks today. floodlights from below light our breaths and faces with an eeire orange... the same orange emanating from royce's two towers and powell's rotunda just beyond the darkened trees in the near distance. tonight's topic, life, how we live it, and humanity's problem with just letting things be... letting life run its course. it was clear to me after the conversation that i had sifted out most of my taoist philosophies for the exchange, and found it refreshing that someone could actually understand what i meant, could actually wrap their brain around my views, and could actually offer an insightful return. both of us, in the post-college, pre-grad-school limbo of our lives, shared our experiences of "feeling old" and questioning our identity, having just grown out of our "college student" identity, and not yet aquiring any "young urban professional" identity. what a time we live in.

just the other day, i joined kim and some other friends at brew-co in westwood, a bar i used to frequent. there was something about the feel of the place, the location of the place, which pestered me. although it is hard for me to pinpoint the source of my feeling out-of-place, it was definatley a culmination of having grown out of the college-bar-scene, no longer there just for the alcohol, or searching for cheap weekly specials. i didn't want to be informed about the comedy show upstairs, nor did i want to continue sipping my poorly made rob roy, sticky with way too much sweet vermouth, no cherry, and in a tumbler. i grew out of this scene long ago, i thought to myself as i sipped the vermouth. i grew out of college life way to early, it seems, feeling incredibly old as i walked through campus in the last quarter of my fifth year, usually waving a quick hello on the path between classes to those who had known me by then or busily puffing a cigarette as not to be bothered or handed a ubiquitous flyer. i feigned an oath then on, never to set foot in a westwood bar again, and my return visit simply reinforced the reasons. i've always been called "old" by those around me, drinking scotch or a martini when other kids around me were happy with their beers. at a time when just-turned-21-year-olds were frequenting maloney's, the sorori-fratty bar down the street, i was at brew-co, probably sipping a martini and smoking a cigar in their center patio. when the kids grew out of maloney's and moved over to the co, i was probably at liquid kitty, soaking in its dark ambiance and well-mixed martinis. finally, when the brew-co kids grew older and wanted a different bar to go to, something which rarely happened, i was probably sitting at the arsenal, the music just quiet enough to hear across the table, drinking my scotch and having cigarettes over insightful conversations with friends in the cushiony smoking patio, not giving a damn if the maloney-brew-co kiddies ever made it out of the college town i was eager to get away from. i am old. am i old? maybe i just feel old. or maybe i feel behind.

as i talk with kids younger than i, who boggle my mind with accounts of how cool the new world of warcraft game is, what new weapons their characters have, or how far they got in halo 2, i feel old and behind the times. video games? sorry, all i had was atari. i didn't even go to the arcade to play street fighter... or street fighter II for that matter. children tell me about the new computers they're getting.. the new i-pods, other mp3 players, or hand held computer-gizmos, leaving me to actually, literally, right now, use the word gizmo because i really have no idea what the hell they were referring to. my first computer had an orange colored screen, the same eeire orange which shines into my eyes as i shiver and take a drag. the little blinking box left strings of dos code as i typed, allowing me to keep useless lists and records in useless folders and subfolders, which i couldn't print, serving only as a 50lb desktop organizer... of useless lists and records in useless folders and subfolders. i was young then, i didn't care.

as of now, i have come to realize that i could never master knowlede of electronics or new cool gizmos that children blast me with today. by the time i learn it, it will have gotten old, and something faster, quieter, and of course, smaller, will have already taken hold. for that reason i choose to involve myself in the things that already are old, or will not get old. i enjoy theatre, art, wine, and literature, and while i am pegged as being "old" now, i have faith that these interests will benefit me even more when i really am old.

i have no idea what the future has in store for me, and this point in my life, truly does feel like purgatory. i'm done with college, i've applied to grad schools, and for the second time in my life, i can honestly say, i have no idea where i will be nine months from now. though i've learned (well, not so much as learned, but experienced and acknowledged) that planning for something never leads to a desired outcome, i have to turn towards my taoist philosophies and tell myself that what will be, will be. kim reminded me tonight that while most people have a plan-a, only to create a fall-back plan-b, they forget that life doesn't play out on a plan-a/plan-b system. as i look back on my college anxieties, complaining about the friendships that didn't work out, the two lengthy reports due at the end of the week, or the huge exam the next day, it has become clear that even to this professional and habitual procrasinator, all has worked out. on due date, my reports were done, my exams were taken, my grades have remained fairly upstanding, and most improtantly, i have completed another stage in my life. i am content with where i am, what i have accomplished, and glad to have met and known the people who now, remain true and are able to hold the most important type of conversations. the anxieties i had were all trivial concerns. what was meant to happen, did happen, and what was meant to falter, did so, but i am in no worse place because of it.

if i said that i didn't miss the things i lost throughout the past four years, it would be dishonest, but each experience has led me to look at things differently, not to dwell any longer, for if something was truly meant to be, it'll happen in the future. i am not a fatalist. while i do hold faith that life will forge its own path, i cannot believe that i am a slave to its direction. while i choose my goals, i'll let life take me towards them. there are no bad choices in life, as i have told many friends, simply choices which have provided a greater learning experience. there are no "what ifs" in life, nor should there be any hurry. wisely and slowly, they stumble that run fast, says friar lawrence in romeo and juliet.

you're so blasé, a friend said to me one day after a day of surfing, how can you be so calm? another surfer had crashed into me on a wave and his fin had sliced a gash through the rail of my board. how can i be angry? how can i be worried? i replied back. neither will fix the damage. two years of surfing and this was the worst damage i received, not counting the time i broke a fin which was easily replaced. i am lucky, i said, that his fin didn't cut into my leg or across my head. sure my board suffered some damage, but it'll be fixed, and i'll be back in the water soon afterwards. 50 bucks for a repair is cheap for coming out without any scratches, and a board which will once again, be rideable. the surf will always be here. what has happened, has happened, it is no longer an issue. now it is time to take the board to the shop. que sera, sera.

experience is one thing you can't get for nothing.
: wilde.