My solid concession: 2

Day one in China and Shanghai complete.

Before I go any further, let me say that I've had a song stuck in my head all day. The driving bass line of this mix has been thumping in my head to the point where I was catching myself drumming my fingers as if I were playing the keyboard portion. Press play as you read this entry, and let it be a soundtrack of sorts.



Moving on. The day began with an amazing, traditional breakfast, which I failed to snap a picture of because it would have been awkward. Katie and I are staying with one of my cousins; she's the daughter of my dad's older sister. Her mom (my aunt) is also here, as is my other cousin (dad's younger brother's daughter). First cousin's name is Feifei, other cousin's name is Miaomiao (assumed English name is Jennifer). Together with another cousin of mine (dad's younger sister's daughter), Fenfen, we were apparently some sort of Fantastic Foursome as kids. What a hoot. Anyway, Feifei is working as a suit in a Norwegian satellite company in the financial district, and her apartment is posh as hell. It's on the thirteenth floor of an inexplicably nice building in a somewhat slummy neighborhood; there's literally a guarded gate around the building. It was a little disturbing when I first arrived. I knew my cousin was pretty well off, and as Jenn drove us into Feifei's neighborhood, I found myself thinking "this can't be right, she makes more than $100k a year". When I caught myself having this thought, I mentally slapped myself because of what a haughty American I must sound like.

But I digress. The apartment, albeit small by American standards, is large and Western and (as I said) posh as hell. No doubt it is similarly large by West Village standards, or even Manhattan in general. More on this later.



We're staying in Puxi, which is the west district of Shanghai. We drove into Pudong, the east district. Separated by a river, the west is considered more European and the east is considered more American. But you can read this all on wikipedia, so let's move on.










You might have noticed that I stopped writing text. Well, that's because the wireless I was stealing became rampantly unreliable and I wasn't able to upload any pictures until today (Monday). So I'm currently a few days behind. Ack! Moving on!

My tempestuous ardor

Go see this movie. Recently, rarely does cinema appear that focuses as much on the music as it does on the story telling. August Rush is an amazing, touching, and miraculous film. Take note of Robin Williams' performance; to me, his character had the human touch that many actors nowadays are unable to impart.


This next picture speaks for itself.



Excuse my bare midriff.
Rock on!
Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it... happy holidays to the rest of us.

Their fanciful gaze

Sometimes, when you least expect it, you get ambushed by rush of emotion, nostalgia, and wonderment that defies all reason. It opens the door for you. It takes the seat next to you on the subway. It offers you the cream for your coffee. And then it has you.

It ranks high amongst the oddest sensations one could ever experience. That sense of deja vu is expected when in the presence of similar artifacts or surroundings. It's similar to the reason why some people experience motion sickness while in a car but not while driving. When you're in control and can anticipate the movements up ahead, they don't affect you as much.

The aftermath is just as baffling. It hits you and you end up swimming around in a haze of memory, and then you emerge and it dissipates without a word. They're like those dreams that you know you've had but can't quite remember. All you have to show for it is your emotions. And I am no exception. I wish I had more to expound on, but sadly I am left only with those emotions.

Stepping out of the library and suddenly feeling guilty.
Riding in the passenger seat of someone else's car and suddenly feeling a strange contentment.
Reaching for the salt shaker and suddenly feeling indescribably miserable.
Opening my book bag and suddenly being unable to suppress a goofy smile.

Call it a coincidence. But I find that I'm the most susceptible to these attacks immediately following a yawn. Maybe it's the fact that I'm tired. Who knows? As a related side note, however, I find that any facial expression following a yawn tends to be the most believable to me, and the most sincere.

Recently, every time I listen to music, I catch myself secretly thinking of ways to apply that music to video or pictures. I analyze everything: mood, relevance of lyrics (if applicable), genre, matters of rhythm, length, and timing. Sometimes my reveries progress so rapidly that I soon find myself hallucinating the visuals that I'm trying to evoke. I tell myself that it's the residual effects from making the banquet video, and that after time, this will subside and become nothing more than a fleeting thought. But deep down, I fear that I may have awakened a deep seated desire to create, to inspire.

And this scares me. I'm reminded of something I read a few weeks ago from Atwood. Art, and this includes all manifestations of it, exists as the energy extracted from your soul that you have carefully molded and fostered within yourself. Once you've created it in tangible form, it becomes it's own being, and in it you have lost the two aspects that made it yours. First, control over its genesis and evolution. And second, the very energy that went into its creation. And you yourself become what is left over.


My semester is pretty much over.

My formal AIESEC role is pretty much over.

What do I have to look forward to? Montreal over the New Year, and then classes. But what about after that? How else am I going to keep my life dynamic? And until then, I'm left with this stagnant period where I feel like I can't do anything but reflect on my life and my existence. And I don't know about the rest of you, but generally I find that to be an upsetting and disturbing endeavor.

Some subtle memory

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuJP9sC9bxQ

Every time I hear this I think of Morocco and all of its crazy shenanigans...

This one's dedicated to the MENA region, Rabat, and especially Rachid and his car.

Grasses are greener

I'm less than 12 hours from being at the airport to head to Morocco... but all I can think about is not being able to in Miami for the Trance festival that Adi is going to.

Ah well. You can't have everything, right?