Solitude and Sincerity, Sobriety and Superiority, Snow and Superbowl
A snowy weekend in London, and the only thing that seemed to have been more exciting than some people seeing the first snow in their entire lives were the excitement brought, at least for some, the Superbowl, or finals match of the American football match, occurring halfway across the world in Indianapolis. For some, it was a time to great homesickness, missing the beers, the couches, and the screaming with childhood friends who they grew up together watching the Superbowl every year. For some, perhaps, it was a time to put behind that rusty annual routine and get on with being a more locally integrated expatriate for once...
With more life experiences, one comes to see more and more aspects of it being a reflection of true dichotomy, as opposed to any sort of spectrum with many grey zones. For every football game, there is a victor and a loser; and for every country, there seems to be an increased split of those who love it and those who despise it. Gone are the days of "middle ground," of compromises, of cooperation while putting aside differences. To the half of the population ending on the "right side," history grants them the right to knowledge of the future, and for the defeated, well, there is only voices of "best luck next time...if there is a next time."
The most straightforwardly simple situations are often the most splendidly surreal depiction of such dichotomy in life. My past weekend was such an example. On Thursday night, I would feel just how routine-like and lonesome my life in London has become after weeks of superficial compulsory "going-out" routines. Then Friday night, I find myself caught in the middle of one of the largest clubbing events I have experienced since coming to London. Another night later, I find myself talking to a nice Brazilian kid about how going out in such nasty weather is just "crazy talk."
And then, another night later, I was attempting in vain to advise a fellow traveler on the possible options for going out to watch live Jazz shows in London's various bars and pubs. One may call it "mood swings," but the back-and-forth of the quiet moments and the, well, more boisterous ones, in good and bad ways, just like two even-handed football teams battling it out on the gridiron, with scores for one side going up in balance to a prior increase in score for the opposing side. Not one side shows clear advantage until the very end of the match.
The dichotomous up-and-down swings, of course, are not without its justifications, provided by so many, yet just as black-and-white pieces of outwardly expressed bits of one&s own psyche. "To be social or not social" is always a good one for determining just how much a person is "socialized" within a society, but not always a good one. After all, simply wanting not to be alone cannot justify lengthy episodes of drunkenness or random conversations. The content of one's minds has to correspond to the contents of the situations.
A classic alternative explanation is the dichotomy of self-pride vs inferiority-complex. Crudely put, the very idea of bragging to a willing audience is like getting high on drugs. People feel so good from talking up a storm retelling their awesome endeavors, pushed on by a wowed group of listeners. In contrast, those who are unable to come up with similar stories, whether in response to mesmerizing tales of others, or simply disappointing the high expectations of the willing listeners, are bound to feel slightly ashamed.
...and that is just like the football team with the high expectations going into a major game, only to be thrashed by the opponents, or in some cases, win in a very unconvincing manner, only to be doubted by the fans and media, lashing out against their mediocrity. The braggarts, as the football teams with the high hopes, are bound to be dejected and decreased in morale after a few disappointments. And even worse, those with nothing to brag, and the underdogs who forever continues to be underdogs, will live out their lives in sorrow through self-fulfilling abject failure...
That is, all in all, the dichotomy of life, something that one comes across in various fashions in various places, with various people in various circumstances, but never fully realizing its presence and influence until reflections and realizations much later in the progress of time. Just like football, there would be celebration and dejection, but just like the snow, the ugliest and the most beautiful sights are all bound to disappear at some point, only to return at a later date. A football season would not be erased from the history books, but with each year, a new chapter of unpredictability is written. Life should also just be like that...
With more life experiences, one comes to see more and more aspects of it being a reflection of true dichotomy, as opposed to any sort of spectrum with many grey zones. For every football game, there is a victor and a loser; and for every country, there seems to be an increased split of those who love it and those who despise it. Gone are the days of "middle ground," of compromises, of cooperation while putting aside differences. To the half of the population ending on the "right side," history grants them the right to knowledge of the future, and for the defeated, well, there is only voices of "best luck next time...if there is a next time."
The most straightforwardly simple situations are often the most splendidly surreal depiction of such dichotomy in life. My past weekend was such an example. On Thursday night, I would feel just how routine-like and lonesome my life in London has become after weeks of superficial compulsory "going-out" routines. Then Friday night, I find myself caught in the middle of one of the largest clubbing events I have experienced since coming to London. Another night later, I find myself talking to a nice Brazilian kid about how going out in such nasty weather is just "crazy talk."
And then, another night later, I was attempting in vain to advise a fellow traveler on the possible options for going out to watch live Jazz shows in London's various bars and pubs. One may call it "mood swings," but the back-and-forth of the quiet moments and the, well, more boisterous ones, in good and bad ways, just like two even-handed football teams battling it out on the gridiron, with scores for one side going up in balance to a prior increase in score for the opposing side. Not one side shows clear advantage until the very end of the match.
The dichotomous up-and-down swings, of course, are not without its justifications, provided by so many, yet just as black-and-white pieces of outwardly expressed bits of one&s own psyche. "To be social or not social" is always a good one for determining just how much a person is "socialized" within a society, but not always a good one. After all, simply wanting not to be alone cannot justify lengthy episodes of drunkenness or random conversations. The content of one's minds has to correspond to the contents of the situations.
A classic alternative explanation is the dichotomy of self-pride vs inferiority-complex. Crudely put, the very idea of bragging to a willing audience is like getting high on drugs. People feel so good from talking up a storm retelling their awesome endeavors, pushed on by a wowed group of listeners. In contrast, those who are unable to come up with similar stories, whether in response to mesmerizing tales of others, or simply disappointing the high expectations of the willing listeners, are bound to feel slightly ashamed.
...and that is just like the football team with the high expectations going into a major game, only to be thrashed by the opponents, or in some cases, win in a very unconvincing manner, only to be doubted by the fans and media, lashing out against their mediocrity. The braggarts, as the football teams with the high hopes, are bound to be dejected and decreased in morale after a few disappointments. And even worse, those with nothing to brag, and the underdogs who forever continues to be underdogs, will live out their lives in sorrow through self-fulfilling abject failure...
That is, all in all, the dichotomy of life, something that one comes across in various fashions in various places, with various people in various circumstances, but never fully realizing its presence and influence until reflections and realizations much later in the progress of time. Just like football, there would be celebration and dejection, but just like the snow, the ugliest and the most beautiful sights are all bound to disappear at some point, only to return at a later date. A football season would not be erased from the history books, but with each year, a new chapter of unpredictability is written. Life should also just be like that...
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