Snippets

Ah, I'm back in China, land of my forefathers, burgeoning opportunity, unrivalled vibrance, spitting on the streets, complete lack of decent service anywhere and heavily censored internet.

Ok, I'm tired of complaining about this country, so I won't do it right now. Had a remarkably surreal experience over the weekend here. I was in a music store, just flicking through the CDs and wondering how anyone made any profits from selling original discs at 12 RMB a piece when I heard a song being played over the speakers in the store. Now, I quite liked that song, and in fact have it on one of my more frequently listened to playlists. The only reason I actually noticed it though, was that it was a pretty old song, and as such, rarely gets any airtime either on radio or record stores. I silently commended the good taste of whoever it was who chose that song and moved on down the racks of music. The next song that came up was terribly familiar too. In fact, it was on the same playlist as the previous one in my computer.

Hmmm, coincidence then. I can live with that.

As the time wore on, each song that was played was on that same playlist on my computer. This was getting a bit odd. Soon, I was guessing which song would play next, and I realised that I was getting it right! Now, that's odd. Especially considering my playlists are usually on shuffle, so I was just randomly pulling up a song title from that playlist in my mind and guessing. I ended up sitting at the cafe next to the store and listening to the music being played from the record speakers for a couple of hours, guessing which songs would come up next. And I was getting them all right. Very freaky, actually.

Conclusion, I must be psychic. Next time, I'm going to spend some time hanging about places that sell lottery tickets. Or a roulette table.

On a separate note, I think I'm starting to look forward to starting school again. I might not so much if I were bumming all summer, but I'm not. The really upsetting thing is that I'm not even home this summer. Honestly, sometimes I don't care whether my time is spent productively. All I really want is to relax and enjoy my breaks. Running out of them. Next summer will be my last real holiday for a while. Several decades, actually. I will have to figure out how I'm going to spend that one. After all, if college is supposed to be the best time of my life, it's time to make that true.

Some people so desperately want to be successful, but I don't see them having the ability to be so. I think I have the ability. I am fantastically prepared to be a success in life. I have to give my family, teachers and all that their due. If I want, I can be very good at whatever I choose to do. Within reason, of course. Question is, are the things I have been preparing for all my life what I want? Tough question. The answer still eludes me. Shall I simply press ahead and be what I should be? Or shall I not? I can have what so many people want, but cannot have. I can have it, but do not really want it. Am I then ungrateful?

People think I'm arrogant, that I have an inflated opinion of myself. Perhaps I do. After all, I wouldn't know, would I? The thing is, I think I really am many things I say I am. The difference is my willingness to state it. And in a manner that does not indicate any enthusiasm to prove anything at all. I am what I am, and I am not ashamed of it. Nor am I ashamed of what I am not. I lie about many things, but I am open enough about my capabilities. And my flaws. The flaws are many, and I do not attempt to hide them or obscure them with talk or displays.

I avoid being overtly social for simple reasons. I am either interested, or I am not. If I am interested in the people on display, then I observe them. After all, I can hear myself talk anytime, but my opportunities to hear others speak are limited. I try to make as few assumptions about people as I can. I listen and form a series of conjectures from that. I know that is still pure conjecture, and unlikely to be even vaguely accurate. If I am not interested, then there is no reason to expend any energy to engage. I often say one of the most interesting persons I know is myself. The problem is that I find myself quite boring.

Sometimes, when I cross roads, it occurs to me that I might already be dead. That I am merely a ghost reliving his last moments. Why not, after all? The point of ghosts reliving their lifes is that they do not know that they are merely ghosts. So perhaps I am one too. Who knows? Certainly not I. Maybe I died of a heart attack minutes after I blogged this, and I only think I am doing this for the first time. I am occasionally tempted to find out. I guess this is what those personality test people mean when they say I am suicidal. I'm not, by the way. I just get curious on occasion. One of those things that flit through the mind when idle. After all, if there is an afterlife, why not get on with it? If there isn't, then what's the point? Catch 22. Inaccurate use of it, if you've read the book, but who cares?

Ugh, don't know where those random snippets came from. Maybe it is as a friend said, I become dangerously honest when I'm drunk. I am far from drunk, but I have been anything but dangerous. As for the honest part, I sometimes wonder.