I went to many concerts lately. Many are live music shows located in bars with intimate settings. I love going there alone, without any need or desire to speak with anyone, though it was also nice when occasionally someone would strike a conversation with me about music, or anything else, or when I happened to sit next to a band member at the bar chatting away. Life appeared unreal and at its most ideal and purest form at those moments, and time became eternal.
We as unfortunate creatures in modern society constantly find ourselves in a state of anxiety – worrying about our job, our personal lives, our choices, what we get and don’t get, what other people’s got and we don’t get, our social media presence … We look further and ahead to gauge whether we’ve optimized our options at the moment; we try to resolve problems that we may just have to live with for a long time; we can’t stop looking and won’t stop looking … Life is so taxing.
At concerts, the minute when the drummer hollers “one – two – one – two – three” to the band and when you hear that first chugging guitar riff, everything around you freezes, your brain freezes, and you do not and cannot think about anything else other than the exploding and contagious energy pouring from the stage and the momentary state of elation. You suddenly feel alive. And you are no longer alone. Who you are and what you are outside the four corners of the venue does not matter; you can be no one or anyone; your life problems no longer exist. It is so simple, so easy, so good. You feel maybe you can finally start over.
As the performance continues, and as you have been concentrating on one thing and one thing only, your mind reaches a level of clarity. You see what you want all along, and you want it so bad. Funny how our senses are connected – when we are able to concentrate on what makes us happy, however momentary it may be, life becomes less of a chore.
When I was a teenager and a college kid, I did not need much stuff or money, and I travelled on budget, living in all sort of despicable and suspicious abodes just to see the world. I could bear it because I did not understand the significance of money and have not yet tasted materialism and comfort. After years of law school when I got my first pay check, contrary to what I had imagined, such as squandering it on a nice pair of Dr Martens, I immediately put it aside so as to satisfy some of my student debts. That feeling sucked. It sucks when you do not have any financial security and constantly had to worry about money. Then I changed job and got into BigLaw and had fatter pay checks, I started to own more and more things, more shoes, suits, furniture … on the bright side, though, I finally can afford a nice turntable and lots of vinyls. Oh, and a projector (I do not want or like TVs). Owning more stuff notwithstanding, I never pegged myself as a materialistic person. I always see them as burden that prevents me from packing up and taking off whenever I need to, burden that limits my options and mobility.
Admittedly, however, my spending can be out of control sometimes (just sometimes?), and I have a lifestyle to maintain (drinking and going out for the most part). Luckily, I’ve never put myself in a situation where I will have to pay mortgages; otherwise I would have to stay in BigLaw for its pay scale and prestige wearing “golden handcuffs” forever.
Life is still simple for me – compared to many others’. I just want to be free to the extent I could.
In a memoir of Dave Grohl (who by the way is my music hero), he mentioned many times that “more than anything, [he] was free, and there was adventure around every corner,” and “every day was a blank page, waiting to write itself,” though he had to crash with three other bandmates and was sandwiched between musical equipment in a dirty van when he was touring with Scream, and though he had to drive through apocalyptic Scandinavian snowstorms at night, to have his passport stolen while asleep, or, when he just joined Nirvana, to ration three-for-99-cent hotdogs from a gas station.
I always feel the exact same way. If I know anything about myself, I am curious and adventurous, and I get bored easily. I have travelled to many places at a young age, and it all started with a 9-year-old me staring at the “end of the world” (i.e. Long Point of Cape Cod, which has a an extreme tip on its peninsula) on a crumpled world map and listening to Neil Sedaka singing “bye bye love my baby’s leaving me …” (One Way Ticket, 1959). My life journey started right then and there. The sense of adventure and curiosity is invincible and takes you anywhere.
Disappointed as the it turns out to be (story for another day), believe it or not, I went into law for the same reason – I was curious about how the legal system functions and I wanted to be part of it. Yet, I never felt belonged to that world or the crowd for that matter (even when I was in arguably the most privileged law school). I could not bear listening to people prattling on about archaic doctrines albeit lack of modern relevance whatsoever, recycling argument and templates in the name of efficiency (or “not reinventing the wheels”), complaining about pool and subcontractor problems in Hamptons houses, or (not really) complaining about the long hours and difficult clients. I must admit when I first graduated law school, I did not give these much thoughts and perceived them as norms in an effort to blend in, especially as an immigrant who parachuted herself into a foreign land and did not want to lend more ammo to insiders who treat you “differently.” But I know something was wrong the moment I started to feel law restricts rather than frees my mind. I was longing to get back that feeling of freedom and adventure. I wanted to be excited about things and the world again. I wanted to feel sparks of imagination again. I wanted to be myself again. Only over time have I accepted the fact that whatever seemingly highflying job I have in law and finance, I was never and will never truly be the kind of person those jobs require. I am an outcast, a spirit stumbling through life, a restless overthinker, a kid backpacking Europe awed by its beauty – and I will always stay that way.
Life goes on and on and on. I start off every day languishing its pointlessness and trying to make it slightly better. Most of the times there is nothing I could do to alter its course. Alas, at least when I want to ward off the noise, I know what to do.
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