Subtext

–n. the underlying or implicit meaning, as of a literary work.

Now to some people, the best (and only) example would be innuendo. But, subtext is not quite so obvious. In our everyday lives, I’ve noticed, subtext is more of a subconscious thing that happens to play out one way or another consciously. Sticking with the innuendo example, why is it that we approach people and become friends with them? Why do we more readily talk to some, and not others?

It’s a brief attraction, and that attraction, consciously or not, grows the more the relationship continues and grows. It’s what drops that barrier when acquaintances become more familiar – friends; when friends cross that line and become comfortable and willing to embrace eachother, or something of similar intimacy. It’s an odd line that many, unknowingly, toe in their subconscious at every stage. Some stay on that line or even fall back.

And I do see it. How awkward was that last hug? Did the distance seem odd? Did the intimacy or lack thereof? How much do you really like this person, and in what way? Not that you should ask these questions everytime you give/get a hug. It’s just something to think about. Some best friends have a super heaping of untouched (and unnoticed) sexual subtext, while others have a much more sedate and familial intimacy. Some even have a mix – siblings themselves sometimes do.

Now I’m not trying to say, “OMG, WE’RE ALL FREAKS AND WANT TO SCREW EACHOTHER,” no. What I’m saying, is that it’s just a basic component of relationships. So, stop being awkward and share!

C’mon, I’m a people watcher! Subtleties tend to be a focal point nowadays.

Strumming My Day

I haven’t played a proper stings intstrument in years, and to that end, I haven’t really played a non-electric piano in at least a year. But for once, I dreamt, and of playing the strings. I know I simply played the same tune over and over, but that detail escapes me. I played 3 different instruments, that much I can remember, though which ones I’m not completely certain.

The first, seemed like a violin, but now I think it might’ve been a viola – it wasn’t quite small enough. Then a guitar, which I somehow lost the pick for. Then the last I am sure was a violin, but I lost the bow? It was odd, but I still managed to play with my finger tips. Hey, it was a dream, it doesn’t have to make logical sense.

Now though, all I want to do is pick up one and play. I don’t care that I haven’t played one in ages and don’t remember how. I’ll refresh myself and belt out a masterpiece. Probably an oddly haunting but serene melody, a tad faster than moderate, and somehow a little happy. Don’t ask.

Tiếng Tôi

It is mine by birth, and mine it shall stay. It was an odd realization, and came upon me in the oddest of ways. I was just reading over my mother’s shoulder while she was translating. The transcript is done in colums, one in the original language [English] and the other to be filled out in the new one [Vietnamese]. It was odd watching the letters and symbols fill up the second column as if though typing an entirely new transcript from scratch. I have to hand it to my mom; she does a good job.

Now I just, for some reason [naturally?], drifted over to reading what my mom was typing instead of the original English I’m more literate in. It was odd to say how well I understood it, even if I couldn’t repeat it. Some of those words I couldn’t even recall encountering before. Yet I read it as I would read any English passage.

I doubled back to check of course, but that’s when it hit me – the English felt foreign, despite my better literacy. Every passage, I’d read the Vietnamese as the words spread down the page. Every passage, I’d check back to see if I really had understood what I read. And every passage, the feeling that English was the foreign language – despite a total of 2 years’ time ever spent on Vietnamese soil – would increase.

Vietnamese is my langauge, it is my culture and heritage. No matter how estranged I may be or become, it always will be so. And I am proud of it.

This can’t be the End

http://www.veganoutreach.org/advocacy/quotes.html
Even if you don’t go veg, though I really do hope you at least by the end of this make an attempt, read through that list of quotes. And take it to heart as well, please.

Now to the actual matter at hand…

It’s sad – no, much worse. It’s tragic, and even that doesn’t seem to convey how very terrible this is. It’s disappointing, shameful, depressing, frustrating, and heartbreaking. I don’t even know which to feel. The world is on the verge of a total meltdown, with human civilization at stake, and we, as the reigning superior race of the planet, seem to not want to do anything.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” -Margaret Mead

I seem to encounter that quote all over the place. It makes me wonder, with all the places that I’ve come across it, why I don’t see more of this small group. I see it though – it is there, but it comprises of a group that was already partially isolated; who listens to outcasts? I want to know where the active citizens, the people who can make change – I want to know why I can’t seem to find any – or enough – of them in this “small group” that is trying to save civilization from self-destruction.

And that is what makes it the most heart wrenching, disappointing and shameful experience. For all the human populous seems to care for itself, and you all do – selfishness has not faded as being one of the primary instincts (which we for some reason give too much in way of control) – it doesn’t seem willing to save itself. I suppose most of everyone is just suicidal. A good greater percentage than just the majority.

Why do we just all sit there? I realize that we as humans have the extremely annoying habit of purposefully ignoring what is right in front of us, and that denial has almost always led to personal disaster. But this is not a personal issue, and not a personal thing that can just be ignored and will disappear or simply affect a small era of our lives. This is a global issue, where the whole of the species is at stake, the whole of the civilization and all its cultures.

None of us can afford to ignore this. None of us can afford to ride through denial until it punches us in the face. Only one final punch is coming out of this, and it won’t be ours. And I, for one, do not feel like suffering because everyone else was being stubborn idiots – defining trait of humanity or not. [If it is, it really should be changed]

Phoenix Fire

First to trust, and first to fall;
Easily compelled,
Ensnared and enthralled

Last to trust yet first to vie
For this seeming Honour
This honour to die.

This is our pact,
Our Fraternity;
No distance at all, only eternity.

These are our flames,
Our passions and rage;
This is our act, this world is our stage.

Burn bright, Burn well,
Beyond the toll of
The Great Death Knell

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
May Fire come to those
Who betray this Trust.