Vampires seem to be everywhere the last few years and everyone seems to like to add their own twist to their lore. Although whether it is Dracula, An Interview with a Vampire or Twilight there is one common thread: they all live for a very long time. This got me thinking, if I lived for hundreds of years without aging what would I do? It would definitely solve all those debates about what to major in in University and what do I want to do with my life? I would not have to choose just one career. In most of these stories, the vampires move along every decade or so in order to avoid people noticing that they never get older. Every time they move on it is a chance for a whole new life. Always wanted to study philosophy but thought it would be a better choice to go into business? Do it! Want to write a book? Why not? You have hundreds of years of time to kill and there always seem to be unlimited funds once someone lives that long so why not do everything?
I am what people call “a jack of all trades, master of none”. There are so many things that interest me I can never just focus on one thing, I’m always moving on to the next. I would love to focus on one occupation, master it, then focus on another but I know there is not enough time in my life to do that. I would love to learn more instruments and actually get myself to an advanced level but as of now I am moderately competent at a few and master of none. At least I have tried them, I suppose that is more than most.
In school it was always so hard to pick one thing to study, I wanted to take courses in so many departments. This led to me taking electives when I could and again, barely scratching the surface of several topics but not nearly as much as I would have liked. If I lived for a couple hundred years I would study psychology, philosophy, english, history, all of it. Except maybe calculus, one course of that was enough for a million life times!
So moral of the story: so much to do, so little time!
I thought I would add a quote that always stuck with me from Sylvia Plath’s “The Bell Jar”:
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
Ps I just noticed apparently I haven’t posted anything since October…whoops! I have drafts written up but none of them got completed. Must do better in 2014!
Have you ever experienced that feel that there is a perfect word out there to describe everything you wish to say? A perfect word that encompasses more than any other word could. And the sheer joy you experience when you discover said word? Okay. So maybe you aren’t such a nerd but I’m sure you can relate at least a little. There is actually a psychological disorder that makes a person unable to properly articulate their thoughts or forget key words or names. It is called Lethologica; pretty sure I have this. It doesn’t affect me much when I write but almost always when I speak. But really that was a side note. Another side note: My mom hated when I took psycology becasuse I would always come home having self diagnosed myself with one disorder or another.
Back to the perfect word. I often turn to the thesaursus when writing essays or papers because so many words can have almost identical meanings yet can also mean something more. I love going and finding the original orgins of words. I used to do that when coming up with names for pieces I did in art school. I love to try and find words with multiple meanings. One piece I did I titled “Tainted“, which most people know to mean contaminated or affected negatively but the original Latin tingere meant ‘to dye, tinge’.
I got in to a debate with one of my instructors over a word in my grad paper. I had chosen, very carefully, the word suggestive to describe something. It is not a complex word but it said exactly what I wanted it to. His thought was that people often think suggestive to mean something scandalous or sexual. I wanted it to mean exactly what it says, to suggest something, doesn’t have to be sexual, could be anything. It seemed simple to me. Suggestive means to suggest. The piece was very minimalist and the idea was that I didn’t want to tell anyone want to think about it or how to feel about it. I simply wanted them to let the piece speak to them anyway that it did. Anyway, I won, it was my paper and that was the word I wanted. I doubted anyone would be reading it besides me or my instructor. Grad papers are not exactly riveting reads for most people.
Here is a picture of Tainted, in case you were curious.