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rlee21
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Name: Ryan
Country: United States
State: Tennessee
Gender: Male
Interests: Gastronomy, studying out the wazoo, acrylic painting and other random arts, poetry, cello occasionally, world music, my lovely volvo with the wipers on the front headlights, BIOLOGY!, Science and all things relating to that.
Expertise: Why does the heading say "expertise"? Does it honestly expect me, an asian guy living in the hills of Tennessee/Missouri to be an expert of anything? Truth of the matter is that we really never will be experts at anything. Sure, you can think you have "expertise," but in the scheme of things, what you know is probably just a fraction of what there is to be known.... Ok, I'm done being facetious.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Nonprofit
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  rslee21
Member Since:
10/18/2003
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| It is raining a rather middling rain. Neither a thunderstorm catharsis or a misty envelopment. As I look outside, the world seems frozen in monochrome, save the lonely clumps of autumn's survivors clinging stubbornly to their oaken roosts. Spindly fingers reaching upward, grasping at nothing, find nothing. The tempo picks up as the dimming of the day signals the show is about to start.
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| I wonder how many people still read xangas. My lack of posts notwithstanding, it seems that the blogging crazy kind of blew over. Not to say that there are not many bloggers out there who are still dedicated to their craft, but there seems to be far fewer recreational bloggers. Perhaps I can make such a judgment because my perspective is derived from a rather small demographic that is my close circle of friends: predominantly Asian private school college kids. It certainly was a fad back five years ago or so within the same cohort.
The need for self-expression has surely not diminished, so I think a good plausible explanation for the drop in blogging interest is the (mis-)allocation of time. As college students, we constantly feel busy and overwhelmed by this that and the other. Whether its homework or extracurriculars, studying for exams or planning for events, we are bombarded by deadlines. However, I think that if we truly break-down the amount of time we spend actually doing the work for each task, we'd be left with a good bit of time left. And where does the rest of time go? YouTube, for example, where people can inexplicably watch bad clips one after another for hours on end. Or Facebook. Or forums and message boards. This whole host of online activities that more often than not are highly distracting. I certainly won't pretend to be on the high horse either, as I am quite complicit in procrastinating.
What irks me though, is that people say they have no time for anything. For the majority of people I know, that is simply untrue; they do have time, but they choose to spend it differently. People lament that they don't have time for parties or don't have time to go out for dinner. And yet, for many people, they spend more than half their time wasting time. I use "wasting" because most don't really feel fulfilled by the time that they've spent.
I digressed from blogging, but my ultimate point is this: we have become so caught up in the idea of being 'busy' that we lose sight of things that should matter more. We often pretend to be more busy than we are, or worse, we believe that we are more busy than we are. Procrastination is certainly my nemesis. In wasting bits of time here and there, we lose the opportunity to spend more time with friends or the chance to pursue those hobbies that are really of interest. I am not suggesting that writing a blog is any more worthwhile, though I think its certainly better than spending hours on YouTube.
Enough with the (self-)criticism, I think I'll go cook myself some lunch.
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| La donna è mobile
Qual piuma al vento,
Muta d'accento — e di pensiero.
Sempre un amabile,
Leggiadro viso,
In pianto o in riso, — è menzognero.
La donna è mobile qual piuma al vento
Muta d'accento e di pensier!
e di pensier!
e di pensier!
È sempre misero
Chi a lei s'affida,
Chi le confida — mal cauto il cuore!
Pur mai non sentesi
Felice appieno
Chi su quel seno — non liba amore!
La donna è mobile
qual piuma al vento,
Muta d'accento e di pensier!
e di pensier!
e di pensier!
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| Is it a sin, is it a crime
Si tu n'étais pas là
Loving you dear like I do
Comment pourrais-je vivre
If it’s a crime, then, I’m guilty
Je ne connaîtrais pas
Guilty of loving you
Ce bonheur qui m'enivre
Maybe I’m wrong dreaming of you
Quand je suis dans tes bras
Dreaming the lonely night thru
Mon coeur joyeux se livre
If it’s a crime, then, I’m guilty
Comment pourrais-je vivre
Guilty of dreaming of you
Si tu n'étais pas là
What can I do?
What can I say?
After I’ve taken the blame
J'ai parfois malgré moi
You say, "you’re through
Des craintes folles
You’ll go your way"
Même un soir sans te voir
But I’ll always feel just the same
Je me désole
Maybe, I’m right, maybe I’m wrong
Tu reviens et soudain
Loving you dear like I do
Plus de tristesse
If it’s a crime, then, I’m guilty
Car tu sais l'effacer
Guilty of loving you
D'une caresse
Guilty | | |
| I write in the sand,
like Majnun in the desert.
There's no solace here.
I, dying to love
that which is beyond my reach,
am dying from love.
Without her, I wilt.
I am not so different, eh?
Nizami? Clapton?
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