trip

Tonight I'm sleeping in the living room of my house. I'm sleeping there because tomorrow morning I'm driving to San Francisco for a few days. I just washed my sheets, and I feel like my return home will be much more satisfying if I come home to clean sheets, so tonight I'm sleeping in the living room to not get my sheets dirty.

coincidence

Recently I received an assignment for one of my classes to write about what makes a story satisfying. My answer is that what feels like real life is satisfying, and for me that means a high degree of coincidence: random meetings, chance encounters, chaotic events that often are not purposeful or guided but lead to a meaningful end. That's how real life feels to me. Sometimes I think of this as God, leading life to a meaningful end, but I don't always want to or feel the need to take it that far. Sometimes coincidence is providence, sometimes it's just coincidence. When I look back on my life, that's what I see, a string of coincidences without which I would not be where I am today.

music

I'm insecure about my music. Not music that I've written (which doesn't exist, for the most part), but music that I like and listen to. I'm always very nervous about putting it on, no matter where I am. Mostly, my music isn't appropriate for any sort of social situation, except maybe travel. I listen to car music. For instance: Weezer. I couldn't put Weezer on during dinner time when I'm sitting down with housemates. Most of my friends listen to easy listening music that's appropriate in many situations. In other words, most people don't like the music that I like, and I feel nervous about putting it on. So, I usually just listen to music when I'm alone.

In other news, I've been wondering lately how much salvation is a universal process. As in, I am not fully saved until everyone else is also fully saved. Why? Because I don't think it's possible for any human to be fully "saved" while anyone else isn't. In fact, it seems that being fully redeemed, fully saved, fully human, would mean that it was impossible to feel that way. This is especially true if you believe in hell (which I don't). How can anyone be happy in paradise knowing that someone else is suffering eternally in hell? That seems to be the exact opposite of how humans are supposed to love and feel for each other. I also don't think it's a very satisfying solution to say that God will simply hide the knowledge from us...

domestics pt 2

Thinking back to how I grew up, I realize that I never lived in a messy house. There were certain rooms that were messy (my bedroom, offices), but the public areas were always kept very clean and tidy. Implication: do what you want with what's your own, but keep clean what belongs to everyone. Of course, there were times when I was forced to clean my room, but this was not robustly enforced by the time I had graduated. Not to mention I did a better job of it at that point. Similarly, my dad used to fine me and my roommate Toby if we hadn't taken a shower by 7pm. That also fell away. In any case, that's what I grew up with and what I prefer. Now, I don't like clutter and dirtiness in public areas, and don't like leaving my things in the public area of my house. And, I deal a lot better with clutter than I do with dirtiness. Clutter in my room doesn't usually stress me out, but when the sheets are dirty and the floor is covered in hair and my shelves are dusty (or my fan blades, in Thailand), then I like to clean.

Also, I think the ants in Thailand were a big part of growing up. Consider: if any food was left out, there would be ants on it within an hour or two, sometimes less. If food was left out, it would become stale immediately. Summarily, it's always very confusing to me when I see a bowl of food sitting somewhere in the house for days. That's a lot grosser to me than build up of hair in the drain, or the mold in the shower (until I think about it) or dirty toilets.

In general I don't like leaving my own things around the house. Usually when I go to bed, my things are either in my room or in the study room. This is more from paranoia than consideration for my housemates, though: if I leave books around, I worry that someone will spill on them or kick them and bend the pages. If I leave my computer downstairs, I worry about robbers coming in and finding it right away, or else that someone will step on it or drop something heavy. I assume that what's left in a public area is liable to be destroyed.

Living with seven other guys has also made me think about how much I hate doing things when people are around. I prefer cleaning and cooking when the house is empty. I don't like getting in peoples ways, and I hate feeling like I'm being observed. Also, when I lived by myself two summers ago, I was much more organized than I am living with seven other people. For example, I made my bed almost every day. In part, that's because it was a couch, not a bed, and I didn't want to have blankets on there when I came back and read in the evening. But, I think I just do well when I don't have to worry about getting in the way. Or, perhaps it's more that I hate being interrupted, and so I do things better when I'm alone because I don't have to worry about interruption.

In any case, I like living at my house.