places, part 3 (reflections on my state)

signage at one entrance to the new downtown park

the pictures accompanying this post were all taken on sunday, july 28th, 2012, in los angeles.  i stopped by the opening of a brand new park in downtown, called Grand Park, and on my way home i snapped some pics of a roving carnival that had set up in a small park area just a couple blocks from my apartment.

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i have always loved to read, ever since i was a wee lad growing up in the dark ages of the 20th century (the 70's).  i love to read so much, in fact, that it is very hard for me to understand those people who do not like to read at all!  how is that possible?  i can understand not knowing how to read, but not liking it!  preposterous!  but then, maybe a draw toward reading is sort of a talent, like dancing.  with dancing, you can either dance, or you can't dance.  (i used to be a dancer--loaded with gifts here!)  perhaps reading is the same way, in that people either get reading, or they don't.  just thinking out loud.

a crowd gathers before the stage to watch a dance presentation in the park

but the thing about reading is that if you like to read, as i do, you look for good writers.  what makes a good writer?  well, lots of things, but the one thing i want to emphasize for the purposes of this post is that a good writer doesn't just say something.  a good writer, specifically, says something to the reader.  this distinction highlights one of the major differences between tweets and literature (there are many!).  one writing teacher i had in graduate school suggested that the first thing a writer needs to do before writing a single word is decide 1)who their audience is; then 2)what they have to say.  most people skip #1 altogether and just start "saying" stuff.  pshhhhh.

as you might imagine, i have no interest in twitter.

look crowded?  well, it was!  a good opening day turnout!

during the recent "shift" in my way of experiencing myself, of which i have been writing about a lot, i have been aided by several fantastic writers whose books do indeed say something to me.  i have shared one or two of these books in previous posts, and there are more of them in my shelfari.  the book that is speaking to me currently is one that i just started a few days ago.  it is called lonely, and it is written by emily white.  she calls it a memoir, but so far i find it to be much more.  in it, she writes of the difference between loneliness and depression, as opposed to loneliness being merely a symptom of depression.  she also writes of the greater stigma attached to the descriptor of lonely, as opposed to being described as depressed.  already, her distinctions are resonating with something in my own experience.

there was a "splash pool", which was a hit with the kids, natch

what really strikes me so far in the book is her saying that when she was out in the world, she was "looking for...a sort of emotional mirror, something I could hold up and see myself in."  i read over that line many times to see where it landed with me, and what i have concluded is that i only see emotional mirrors when i am alone in my apartment.   when i am out in the world i see little that reflects me.  for instance, my day in the park?  TONS of people, but none were there with me (no self-pity, just a fact--nobody was able to join me).  i saw families, friends, lovers, but no one else just hanging out by themselves.  i felt, in a way, as if i had crashed somebody else's party without an invite, but they were too busy relating to each other to even notice that i had come in.

i stayed for about 40 minutes, taking pictures and exploring the length of the park, and then i got on my bike and left to go home.  i just didn't know what else to do there.  

all of these kids had someone to play with, and if they didn't, they just played with whoever was around.  it is easier for kids that way.

in my fantasy perfect day, i would go to the park opening, and just like the kids in the splash pool, begin relating to whoever was around me.  you know, small talk, comments, pleasantries and the like.  i think i would probably even walk around in the splash pool.  but i notice very few people exchanging pleasantries in los angeles--what i observe is most people limiting their interactions to their own particular circle of people:  husband or wife, kids, friend, or even phone or computer.  generally, if a stranger tries to start a conversation with another person, it appears to me to be an awkward situation, as it was on the subway going home.  i observed an older man attempting to chat with some tourists who had not been on the l.a. subway before, and he was being quite nice--informing them of the best stations and some details of the trains, but it was all one-way--the tourists (they spoke english) only nodded or said "uh-huh".  i do understand the greater dangers of talking with strangers in a huge city compared with a smaller city, and the old man was somewhat grungy, but...small talk just seems easier in smaller towns (as it was for me in greencastle, missouri).

the paradox of all this is that while i was watching the tourist couple, it seemed to me that they were not entirely engaged with each other, even.  they were perhaps late 30's, early 40's, with tattoos, both a bit overweight and dressed in completely unremarkable summer clothing.  this made me think that they must have been more exciting when they were younger, and perhaps more excited about each other.  i did not envy them, and at that moment, i appreciated my single and solitary life; i appreciated my freedom from being stuck with someone i was once, but no longer, excited about.  maybe that is why i do not find emotional mirrors out in the world--i am not in a couple.  one does not have to be a psychology student to recognize that most couples act as mirrors for each other--even if the mirror is cracked.

i have always loved plants for their willingness to just be what they are, without fuss

and they often do it so well...

when i finally did get back home to my apartment, i was in a curious state.  the "mirror" that i saw myself in there presented me with a disturbing reflection, and it put me in a dark and strange mood for the rest of the day.  the reflection i saw showed me in a state of "loneliness", a state that i did not immediately recognize.  or did i.

the roving fair was set up that night in the park near my apartment.   the thing i love about ferris wheels is that you are in your own compartment but moving together with many people.

i stayed in my apartment the rest of the day, even though i could have gone anywhere, done anything.  i simply could not go back out in the world and be reminded of how alone i was feeling, how alone i was feeling in this city.

the paradox is that so often the people who are spending time with each other don't seem to be enjoying each other.  i suspect that many of the people who came to this fair came in order to have a distraction from the people they live with.  if i went to the fair with someone, that would not be my purpose.

i had dinner with a great friend the other night, and he suggested that i might be overlooking my own role in my loneliness, my own role in how i perceive los angeles.  i don't disagree with him--it is always easier to point the finger at something else rather than ourselves.  but i am just so tired of feeling like i am the problem.  i am a part of the problem, but just a part.  as i told him, i understand consciousness as being a relationship between the brain, the body, and the environment.  there are times when one has to just throw in the towel and change the environment.  think about a time when you finally quit that horrible job, a time when you left a bad relationship, a time when you yourself moved to a better city. it is a damaging falsehood put forth by the new age thinkers that all you have to do to change something is "think differently".  thinking differently is just one part of the equation.

ever feel fenced in by your environment?

new york times magazine writer siddhartha mukheriee wrote recently of the new science of depression.  in her article "post-prozac nation", she examines the findings that in depressed people, there may be a link between their mood state and the death of nerve cells in certain areas of their brains (as opposed to a lack of serotonin).  before i cause your eyeballs to roll back in your head, the point i want to highlight is that she wonders what role "a stimulus--genetics, environment, or stress" play in the death of cells (italics mine).

i wonder that too.  and i am willing to leave this city and go to another in order to test the theory.

in the meantime, i am grateful for the resources that are assisting me in figuring out this process, and i am grateful for great friends for simply stating what they see when they are with me.  that often tells me more than any of the books i read.  (but i ain't giving up the books!)  it makes me realize that though i need to leave this city and try a different environment, there was nothing stopping me from taking off my shoes and running around in the splash pool with everyone else.  nothing, that is, except me.

everybody's doin' it!

after all, the park is for everyone.  it says so right on the sign.