On moving someplace better (part 5); Vlog #44

**THE NOTES**

*Here I am in Basking Ridge, New Jersey, vlogging from my very own official PUBLIC COMMENT VLOGGING STUDIO (A spacious walk-in closet; 🙂 )

*The symbolism of moving and of certain key life experiences

*The symbolism/meaning/significance of our move to Basking Ridge: an attempt at an objective reflection of the personal meaning– as opposed to subjective (i.e., only feelings based))

*Conscious contemplation of the notion of a move from one place to another– it’s personal meaning—how does this change us?—- self expressiom & desire fulfillment @ exceptionally high intensity (a lot of mental stimulation thus higher intensity of introspection)

*Being aware of the experience of moving itself (I mean, if I were writing a novel about it how would I narrate it?)

*Flood of memories of when Ashley & I moved to Oceanside, California– the first move I had ever made with a woman– (this move to Basking Ridge is our first move as a married couple…exceptionally romantic but during drive I felt regret about my poor character during our move and time in Oceanside—- I’m determined to be a gentleman this time around!

*Our first time owning residential property!

*My astronomical gratitude to live in Basking Ridge with my wife!

On moving some place better (part 4) (Vlog #43)

2 days until we move to Basking Ridge, NJ– almost all I can think about. This move is a striking contrast to my move to Fort Myers/Estero, FL back in 2005, which led to deepened mental illness, obsession with marijuana, dropping out of college and a kind of psychological downfall.

*It’s seizing my consciousness: only 2 days until we move to Basking Ridge, NJ!

*What does it mean to think about living somewhere?

*Personal/inner revolution…major changes– like the world of Heraclitus

*The dark, revolutionary period when I moved to Fort Myers/Estero, FL in contrast to our upcoming move

*I did not really think through my move to Fort Myers/Estero, FL

*I was, in general, an oblivious person

*paranoia, panic attacks, and other consequences of my marijuana obsession

*morality & time

*convinced I suffered from severe intellectual disability

*unable to even enjoy a romantic relationship, convinced of the worst in everyone, including myself and believing Fort Myers was cursed by evil spirits

*My fantasy vision of myself as a rich & famous Ex-pat poet living in Europe only to end up a nihilist in South Beach

*My troubled epistemology

*Questions I should have asked myself & tried to answer

A few brief thoughts on art (short philosophical essay)

[Note: I began this essay in the autumn of 2017 initially intending it to be a poem. It has been revised numerous times to reach its current form]

Music plays on my Apple laptop…the back reads: “Designed by Apple in California Assembled in China.”

According to the “executive summary” for the China Labor Watch Website â€śworkers making the iPhone” are exploited, paid just $1.85 per hour.

(Compare to my $11; compare to $7.25, America’s minimum wage).

The Guardian reports that the Foxcon Longhua factory in China, which manufactures iPhones, has body catching nets to curtail its suicide epidemic.

Should I trash what the workers produced in protest, and boycott?

I sigh…the music plays on…a man and woman sing: “I-I-I-O-I-I-I-O-I-O-AH- I-O-I-O-O-AYYYY! AYYYY! YEAHHH!…”

According to a Business Wire article published June 23, 1999, it was a husband and wife singing â€śa vocal chant” called “Jubilant Drinking Song,” recorded in the late 1970s and incorporated without their knowledge in this international top ten hit– the 1993 song “Return to Innocence,” by a music group that calls itself “Enigma.”

This resulted in a lawsuit and then eventually a settlement.

The music continues…I think of wind…wind…blowing through American beachgrass…

…the sound of ocean waves crashing while I’m walking on the Rehoboth Beach boardwalk, gazing at the snow falling from a dark gray, nighttime sky.

I show the winter wind my toughness as it persists, whipping my exposed skin.

The music inspires, and facilitates contemplation and day dreams…

On a few perambulations in late Autumn of 2018 in East Windsor, NJ

Walking helps me meditate. My thoughts: streaming, roaming, like wind, or birds flying. No obligations… except to walk, and meditate. The sky, a sheet of blank white paper. I wish it would snow. Yes, let winter arrive early! Make it colder. Cold air, so blunt, stimulating, ordering me to feel its intensity, like masterpiece art work or extra dry gin, and refreshing, like pure cranberry juice (without any added sugar) from the refrigerator, or like waking up late after a much needed, long night of sleep, and exciting too, like the first French kiss in series, igniting my nerves. At least the air this afternoon chills enough to repel the gnats, and mosquitoes. Autumn’s rustic bouquets blooming…I wish I could walk through its maze all day. The air’s force, when it gusts, feels like God’s blessing, an extract of pure benevolence, a grandparent’s kiss.

Dream catcher (a short philosophical essay)

[Note: the writing of this essay began back in the fall of 2017, intended originally as a “poem” and was completed within a year’s time and now ultimately takes the form of a short essay)

Fear of dying in my sleep…of dying in poverty, no career I climbed up to reflect on… just a plethora of aspirations and thoughts racing like a flock of thousands of birds headed south…while America’s democracy and rule of law corrode…gin and prayers fail to relax me…

But I am like my grandmother.

She used to listen to talk radio late at night as she fell asleep, sometimes not until three a.m.…

I watch the news on my laptop…

…five splits in the screen so we can see the face of each expert on the news panel… strikes my eyes like the rays of a plasma ball, the dendrites of a neuron under a microscope, octopus arms, jellyfish tentacles inside an aquarium…

President Trump called NFL players “sons of bitches” for kneeling during the singing of the national anthem to protest racism and police brutality.

Nuclear North Korea threatens the inevitability of violence…

Even on Friday, at 11:30 p.m. when one could be doing anything… many, like MSNBC’s Brian Williams analyze our Earth’s environment and community- its well-being or lack thereof.

Caretakers indeed abound: bureaucrats, military, police, fire fighters, hospital workers, and nocturnal intellectuals, with integrity.

Thank you.

It helps me sleep…

On moving some place better (part 3)(Vlog #42)

The developing complexity of my psychology, my determinism, my nihilism, and my marijuana obsession, as I transfer from Kean University to Florida Gulf Coast University (From Elizabeth/Union, NJ to Fort Myers/Estero, FL) between 2004-2006

*My desire to drop out of college and emulate Jack Kerouac, hitchhiking America

*Moving to Fort Myers/Estero, FL to attend Florida Gulf Coast University (FGCU) felt like a miracle, an artist’s “dream come true.”

*The irony of feeling “liberated”– falling into the depths of determinism & nihilism

*WHY was I really even attending college? I didn’t know…I was just waiting for riches and fame because I was convinced that was simply my fate. Bob Dylan put it so well when he sang:

SOONER OR LATER ONE OF US MUST KNOW

THAT YOU JUST DID WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO DO

Bob Dylan; Sooner or Later

*Trying marijuana for the first time and falling in love with it

*The place you live and the philosophical ideas you develop when you live there and come to thereby associate with your time spent living there

*My addiction/obsession with marijuana

-I believed I “needed” marijuana to be a “good” poet or become “one with the universe”

*second time I tried marijuana I suffered extreme paranoia and panic attacks, yet I kept smoking it…

On moving some place better (part 2)(Vlog #41)

From my childhood obsession with the Caribbean Sea while living in Robbinsville, NJ to my frustration with urban Kean University in Union/Elizabeth NJ in 2004-2005.

*The role of memoir/autobiography/personal essay/introspection in philosophical contemplation

*Falling in love with the Caribbean Sea & “the beach” in general

-a love poem I wrote about the beach when I was 18 y/o back in 2004

**ah the naivete of youth!**

*18 y/o @ Kean University, not standing up for my love of the beach

-loved the people but too urban for me (Union/Elizabeth, NJ)

*I’m very sensitive to geography/ picky in my taste

*Kean University: disgusting dorms/ felt like a prison cell in contrast to Florida Gulf Coast University dorms in new, beautiful apartment with my own room

*Ignoring my dream & happiness: that had to change

SEE RELATED: Geographical preference: a philosophical flash fiction