NOTES / articles / formal: "carpe diem cliches"

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NOTES ON NOTES

[BACKGROUND] written a midnight before the deadline for a class, if i remember correctly. i actually think it's rather poorly written, but at least i can store it on the internet in case i'm ever stupid enough to reformat the computer without backing everything up. i mean, it's already happened three times, and you'd think i'd learn by now, but... no.

[PURPOSE] seize the day, even if you only realized on a train to elsewhere in washington.

CARPE DIEM CLICHES

Life's clichés can be found in more places than just television sitcoms or corny love stories. Sometimes, these clichés can be uncovered in the strangest of places and at unusual times, and this holds true to me in particular. Growing up in New Jersey, I have lived a relatively average life, but life always finds a way to ambush one with its surprises. Having traveled a great deal of the world and being born when humanity is at that few and far between stage, I have seen my share of hurt in the world and only emerged stronger in the end. I accept the adversities this world has to offer without struggle. Being fifteen years old and feeling so pragmatic while virtually devoid of any idealism is a different way to live, but I did not become this way one sporadic Tuesday morning. Events have changed me, and sometimes, events can change someone permanently.

Coming from a traditional Chinese family, I found myself pounding at seven contemptible keys every day for two hours at age five, seven days a week, three-hundred-sixty-five days a year. That is correct: I took the piano. Additionally, at any early age, I was accustomed to feeling second rate because it is practically a law that the first and second siblings are to be prodigies, and the latter will be a failure. So, there I was, next in line to compete in the piano recital I had been putting off practicing for weeks. After all, running around in circles and napping is more productive (this screams prodigy). That Saturday, I stumbled awkwardly to the stage - whose walk can resemble that of a sober person's when one is that nervous anyway? - avoided the eyes of the audience and judges, and proceeded to bang out the sweet sound of Mozart's "Minuet in G." When it came time for that charming second piece, I played less than ten measures, and simply forgot it all. That feeling of stupidity, sitting there in disbelief, closing my eyes in disgust all amounted into such a pleasant moment. There have been countless instances in my fifteen years when I have wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear forever, spend my life with the rabbits, perhaps, and that feeling was more poignant and heartrending than ever that day. When I finally reopened my eyes, I caught the stares of my fellow competitors. Those "can you believe it" and "I feel sorry for her" eyes only worsened the situation. Air that once hovered over the palms of my hands instantly converted to warmth, which radiated throughout my body, while the cold, bitter keys of the piano did nothing to evaporate my sweats. Reflecting over this discomforting, to say the least, moment, I now realize that life goes on. It always does. I can forget the notes to every song fifty, eight, nine hundred fifty-eight times, and unless Armageddon occurs one fateful day, I will unquestionably go on and live. That which does not kill us only makes us stronger, right?

Fear is something we all feel at least once in our lifetimes; that is what makes us human. On February 27, 2006, I was scrunching my hand as hard as I could within my coat pocket in hopes of trapping some heat. My scarf was wrapped as tight as a noose, but risk of asphyxiation is a small price to pay in exchange for a warm neck. As seen, Washington D.C. can be a cold place in the peak of the winter season. Attending Winter Congress 2006 for JSA that weekend, I was waiting "patiently" in the dry, freezing, arctic, polar-bears-can-live-happily-here weather for the Metro. So, when that deafening subway came whistling through, I was relieved, but for more reasons than having just been saved from hypothermia. The short trip on that vehicle must have been my only time to breathe throughout the weekend. Evidently, it was the only time to breathe for other passengers as well; standing passengers were developing some method to snooze without tumbling over. Exhausted from a day of debating whether Bush is an idiot or not (he is), I was ready to collapse myself and consequently rested my head on the shoulder of a friend and disappeared into a private realm. The air was still and quiet - tranquility at its finest - and as I drifted further away from the land of reality and into my own mental territory, thoughts invaded my mind. I was suddenly overcome by a pang of fear and longed to be home. Particularly since the tragedy of September 11 combined with painfully learning what exactly the "real world" entails, I had been plagued with fears of violence. When the media is inundated with talks of yet another successful plot of terrorism, and headlines read the outrageous number of the bodies being lowered into the ground, it is difficult to turn the other cheek. Aware of the crazy inside me, I tightly shut my eyes, as if that would clear my mind of these silly thoughts. Needless to say, efforts were futile; thoughts were merely elaborated. Although people might argue seeing all ten seasons of Friends in one sitting is all there is to life, I was not ready to sign that permanent slip and resign. I had more in life to see; to feel, to be, and to think for even a second that that opportunity was gone, is absolute devastation. While gripping the armrest while yearning so badly for the tracks of this train to somehow be en route for home, we arrived at our destination of Capitol South, and city life resumed while pains vanished. To this day, I still carry what I learned that February 27 with me - live life, carpe diem, do it all. Never again do I want to relive that seemingly simple subway ride; to feel that terrified and that incomplete. They tell you forget regret or life is yours to miss. Well, sometimes, they are right.

Events in one's life teach a great deal. In these scenarios, one must live life and remember tragedies occur. In my case, the great tragedy of 1996 still leaves this person here, the one writing this paper. Life went on for me, and it will continue to, through all the mix-ups and the mistakes, the bad thoughts and the frightening subway moments. In reality, living a life without regrets might result in a failed attempt, but that should not prevent one from trying. People believe they undergo "life-changing" moments all the time, and while mine appears minute and ridiculous, they change my life nonetheless. Past events and ones to come shape who I will eventually grow to be.

Cliches are more than just overdone expressions we should avoid repeating. They define one's short existence on Earth. Someone said "C'est la vie" and "carpe diem" for a reason other than showing off their vast knowledge of foreign languages; there is a slight chance they might have had hopes of improving life. The ability to change is ultimately in our very hands, and whether it is learning that one thing cannot be our entire life, and we should eventually move on from it, or that life is really as short as people say, changing lifestyles is all us.

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