input output

I’m waiting for my Delta flight to Atlanta in Terminal 2 at SFO, listening to my “Repeat Rewind” playlist on Spotify. I find that I listen to music differently from others. I don’t really listen to albums or have a well-rounded playlist. I just listen to the same songs on repeat every day until I get sick of it, and then I repeat the same routine to another set of songs. Eventually, I revisit the songs I’ve listened to on repeat in my past, and I am able to extract some memories from it from whatever I’ved saved into the song as I was listening to it.

I wonder if I’ll listen to the songs I am listening to now with the same sad nostalgic lens that I have put onto my past songs, even in moments that were objectively unglamorous. By all standards, I’m living a pretty good life right now, and I never know if this is going to last. Things can change for all sorts of reasons, and I always find myself being sad again. 

It’s slightly more than halfway through my time in SF. So little has changed, and so much has changed. I have lived in SF for 1.5 years, and I have 1.5 years left to go, although I’m not going to count the disjointed couple of months I spent in Iceland, Costa Rica, and Morocco.

I came because I wanted to start new, and I guess I was able to create a new identity for myself in absence of any inherited friendships I may have. I got what I want, but I’m not sure if it’s actually what I want. I feel very dependent on others. Even though I can survive without forming close connections with others, it’s not necessarily a life I want to live. I have made some friends here in SF, but it feels off. It reminds me of some of my friends in college, when you were friends because you wanted something from one another and not actually because you are interested in each other’s company. I feel the same now. I want something from others, and they want something from me. I get what I want by being what other people want.

I guess I’ve been slightly more artistic in the past year. More so than I was in New York. I’ve made a lot of videos in the past year, and I’ve been getting more into drawing and film photography, to the point where it could actually be considered impressive now. I’m not sure if it is bringing me any fulfillment though. It is something to do, and it makes me have a more well-rounded creative skillset, but it’s just another item I’ve tacked onto my long list of hobbies. 

Art exists in the absence of connection. Or rather, the act of creating art is furthering my connection with myself, whereas the act of socializing is furthering my connection with others. Connection feels like a weird word to describe this phenomenon because it implies two independent sources of being. How does one connect more with oneself?

I’ve also noticed I’ve begun using the third person more recently. Maybe that’s reflective of my increased depersonalization from myself and others. 

I’ve accomplished a lot and nothing at all. I’ve passed Level 2 of the CFA, and I’m studying for Level 3 now. It’s a bit tedious, but I think I’ll be able to get through it. I got scuba certified and did a couple of cool dives. I made a bunch of friends, I’m dating someone now (kind of), and I’ve gotten okay at squash and tennis. I’ve “accomplished” things, but I feel like I’m just moving along with my life, surfacing in and out of consciousness, like Billy Pilgrim in Slaughterhouse Five. It seemed inevitable that I would accomplish the things that I have. It’s very input-output. I put time into doing something, and then I become better at it. There is no room for serendipity, and I tend to put a lot of meaning on serendipity.

I want something to happen, to be able to once again experience something rare. Occasionally, I get to experience something rare, but rare experiences are hard to come by.

Sometimes, in relationships, I feel like I’m playing a part. I find myself pretty detached most of the time, and I have to pretend like I’m more engaged than I actually am most of the time. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, even to the point of fooling myself, so it’s pretty unnoticeable most of the time, but it’s just something I’ve noticed. I’m not really into people anymore. I haven’t been for quite some time. I find people predictable now. If you compliment them, and act interested in them, and buy them things, then they like you and give you what you want. Since I save most of my income, I essentially have an unlimited line of credit for dating. I’ve decided to start paying for dates recently, and I’ve allocated $2k per year in my head to spend on dates, which goes a long way if you aren’t spending on fine dining. 

Dating is fine, but I don’t really like anyone I am dating. I want to find someone I like, to embrace serendipity, and let myself be consumed by limerence again. It has been so long since I’ve felt like that, and I don’t know when I will feel it again, if ever.