Some time ago, I came across this quote:
Art and love are the same thing: It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that aren’t you.
It must have been months ago, but I remember reading that quote and thinking about how true it was. And for some reason I didn’t think to write it down or make a note of it anywhere, but it’s just stuck with me, and it resurfaces in my thoughts now and then.
It is finally cold here. In the last few days, the temperature has dropped, the chill has set in, and it is finally cold.
It’s the sort of cold that makes me shiver and makes my teeth chatter. It’s the sort of cold that makes my fingers freeze as I type, and makes me contemplate searching for my gloves (but I probably won’t). It’s the sort of cold that gives me hope that maybe – just maybe – we will have a “proper” winter this year.
It is gloriously cold.
Have you ever gotten that feeling when you eat something so frickin’ delicious that you sort of melt inside, and you feel like your life is complete and you can die happy? Is that too big a call?
Let me put this in some context: When it comes to eating out, I like to try different places, and actually won’t return to the same restaurant very frequently even if I loved the food and the service was great. I suppose it’s similar to my approach to books: I have so many books that I want to read, so it’s hard to go back and re-read my favourites, knowing that I’ve got a huge backlog of other books to read. But I fully intend on re-reading those books at some point (maybe in several years’ time).
It’s taken over 4.5 years, but I’ve finally upgraded my phone (switched over on Friday, actually). Yes, this is going to be that sort of a post. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I have this kind of vague, kind of vivid memory about a conversation I had with a friend back in high school. I think it was the last day of grade 8, or the last day of semester in grade 8 or 9; and I remember this because there weren’t really any classes or, at least, we weren’t doing any learning. Instead, in one class, we watched a movie – something sad and poignant like The Notebook but not that.
In this particular conversation, this friend and I (and perhaps a few other friends who were around) were talking about movies that make you cry. The Notebook was one of her suggestions. As for myself, I’d never been moved to tears by a movie. Some time after this, I got around to watching The Notebook, and I didn’t cry. Don’t think I even felt tears welling up in my eyes. I appreciate the beauty of the story and all, and I’m sure I would’ve felt the emotion of the characters, but… no tears.
A couple of weeks back, I was messaging a friend, and one thing that came up in the conversation was this feeling of aloneness. I know it’s not really anything new, this observation of how we are more “connected” than ever, and know more people than ever, but can also feel more alone than we ever did; but I just wanted to elaborate on my view of it because these thoughts have been drifting in and out of my consciousness ever since that conversation.