Cliche Indie Movie Scene
I'm sitting on a train at one in the morning, cruising through a landscape of humming orange glow and traffic lights playing to empty streets. I can only see out the window if the train is in motion; otherwise, the fluorescent lights completely outshine the world. My car is empty except for myself, a dozing conductor, and a couple other passengers. A loudspeaker crackles out incoherent station names every ten minutes or so. There's considerable time before he'll vaguely pronounce a word that sounds like the name of my stop.
A businessman with loosened tie and tired eyes sits across the aisle, slowly scrolling through a blackberry. He occasionally types a few sentences. Once he answers a call and quietly talks. The only part of the conversation that is discernible is the end: a brief "I love you, too. I'll be home soon." After that he puts away the blackberry. His eyes seem less tired.
Two other men at the back of the car are wearing orange, blue, and black from head to toe. From their talk it's impossible to tell if their team won, but from them you can hear the comfortable platitudes of fervent baseball fans. The team needs a new coach. Their bullpen is killing their game. A couple more hitters coming alive could save the series. Damn the Phillies.
The remaining car passenger is a black woman with headphones on. She's been asleep since the train was set in motion back at the city. I've been wondering what she's listening to for about as long.
My coffee cup is about drained, as are the batteries on my own music player. My eyes have been sifting in and out of focus for a while, now. One moment they're seeing the outside, watching the cities and suburbs and fields pass in darkness; the next, as the train stops, they only see the reflection of the businessman and myself. My eyes look like his, if a little more lively due to the coffee.
The music I'm playing is a mix tape from a friend. In cliche fashion, all the songs seem to fit the scene. Any one of them could play as a camera started with a shot of me from outside the train, then panned away slowly. Eventually the camera would come to rest high above the train with the tracks in the center of its view; the train would continue traveling off into the darkness. The orange hum and oblivious red and green traffic lights would line the tracks on either side. The sad vocals on top of a guitar or piano would nicely accent the isolation of this shot.
The point of the scene would be just as cliche ... I see it as ending the movie. Travel usually symbolizes searching, or the journey of a character. A train is perfect for this, because it takes many travelers all at once, each with their own search, and it has the ability to move them far over the horizon. Even better, a train will usually run through the night. The traveler is thus forced to wait for the destination to arrive, whether it be their last stop or simply the next step. A traveler who cannot sleep is going forward but is still trapped to ironically watch the world go by, even as they move.
The only question left for the scene is: where am I going? Home? Finding family? Hiking distant travels to lands unknown? Meeting friends? Chasing love? Following an instinct?
Coming to find you?
May 30, 2008
May 25, 2008
"Here at Last ...
... on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our fellowship. And I will not say: do not weep, for not all tears are evil."
Last night, I was walking through my old high school with one of my best friends from home. She and I marveled at the changes that had already taken place since we had left 4 and 5 years ago ... walls repainted, lockers rearranged, remodeling that had been done, even different smells. Pictures hung on the walls of athletes, musicians, and scholars whom we didn't even know. Some of the teachers who had influenced us so strongly were still around, but many had also retired or moved on to other work.
Most telling was the change that was evident in our old hangout, the band room. Neither of our band directors were still there. The only records of our time in that room, our glorious and wonderful and infinitely beloved time, were the dusty trophies that lined the walls with the years 2002 and 2003 on them. No one had cleaned them for ages, that we could see ... but we remembered the sweat, energy, and passion that had gone into earning them. Those trophies might just be gray, forgotten relics of plastic, but to us (or at least, to me) they represented the most expensive and worthwhile commodity in the world: friendship.
Walking through my high school a week after my college graduation caused a fairly significant emotional reaction in me. It hasn't really sunk in yet that those four years are over, I think because I'll be returning to Lehigh again in the fall. In the back of my mind, there's that comfort in knowing that the location and people will be almost entirely the same as they've been. Some very important and dear people will be leaving ... going to work, going to other schools, leaving the country ... but many others will also be staying. There will still be parties and nights at the bar, walks in the moonlight and talks until dawn, long evenings of sadness and joy and poor decisions.
I guess that, when I really think about it, the thing I'm clinging to most desperately at this point is not the people, or the place, or anything like that ... but to the past. Just like in high school, Lehigh is a place I've come to own and feel and live within. It has given me almost everything I've had in the last four years, and has affected every single thing I've done in that time. It's become safe, understood, reassuring. It's a place that has given me pride, accomplishment, and a sense of who I am. And yet, I know that returning this year will not be the same, and that in May 2009, it will all be over for good. Only one year from now. The only thing I can guarantee is that I'll be armed with 3 degrees, my personality, my confidence, and the friends I've made since I arrived. With those in my pocket I'll be turned loose on the world, just like everyone else, to make of it what I will.
I know very little for sure at this point. This month has become, as my brother put it, "a very weird sort of stasis." It's like my undergraduate education ended and left me at a train station with no ticket, money, or destination. Sure, things are lined up for the next 12 months of my life- an internship, graduate work, research, teaching, and music. The problem is that I don't think I want the life that I chose for myself four years ago. Having seen the working world, I could never give 40 hours a week to a cubicle, solving engineering design problems on a computer all day. I could never commute half an hour each way, take lunch with the same people, slowly build a suburban house into a truly American suburban castle. There's got to be more to life than that ... there's got to be more to living that that.
As I said, I don't know much of anything at this point. My father's illness reminded me that I need my family. The end of my last relationship reminded me that I need love. Saying goodbye to Lehigh reminds me now that I need friends, laughter, support, and a sense of belonging. So the question that everyone faces is ... where do we find those things? Where are they in our future? Where can we achieve them ... and also achieve work that fulfills us?
Before we left the high school last night, we found a display case full of the biggest trophies our high school band had ever earned. The tallest trophy in the case still belonged to the CHS band from my senior year, when we had won the state championships for the first time. Just seeing the trophy brought back memories from the whole season, and the night we won. Even four and a half years later, having come through so much, that memory still moved me so deeply ...
What I know for certain is that, in my life, I want to find a woman I know how to love. I want a family. I want to be able to provide for them. I want to see the world. I want to go on adventures without knowing how they're going to end. I want to devote some portion of my life to music. And, towards the end, I want to be the old man that people come to for advice, for laughter, and for stories.
It's a lot to ask, especially with no plan ... but I guess if I've learned one thing, in my four years as a Lehigh engineer, it's that you can usually get by with having absolutely no plan at all.
Happy Graduation, everyone. Good luck.
... on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our fellowship. And I will not say: do not weep, for not all tears are evil."
Last night, I was walking through my old high school with one of my best friends from home. She and I marveled at the changes that had already taken place since we had left 4 and 5 years ago ... walls repainted, lockers rearranged, remodeling that had been done, even different smells. Pictures hung on the walls of athletes, musicians, and scholars whom we didn't even know. Some of the teachers who had influenced us so strongly were still around, but many had also retired or moved on to other work.
Most telling was the change that was evident in our old hangout, the band room. Neither of our band directors were still there. The only records of our time in that room, our glorious and wonderful and infinitely beloved time, were the dusty trophies that lined the walls with the years 2002 and 2003 on them. No one had cleaned them for ages, that we could see ... but we remembered the sweat, energy, and passion that had gone into earning them. Those trophies might just be gray, forgotten relics of plastic, but to us (or at least, to me) they represented the most expensive and worthwhile commodity in the world: friendship.
Walking through my high school a week after my college graduation caused a fairly significant emotional reaction in me. It hasn't really sunk in yet that those four years are over, I think because I'll be returning to Lehigh again in the fall. In the back of my mind, there's that comfort in knowing that the location and people will be almost entirely the same as they've been. Some very important and dear people will be leaving ... going to work, going to other schools, leaving the country ... but many others will also be staying. There will still be parties and nights at the bar, walks in the moonlight and talks until dawn, long evenings of sadness and joy and poor decisions.
I guess that, when I really think about it, the thing I'm clinging to most desperately at this point is not the people, or the place, or anything like that ... but to the past. Just like in high school, Lehigh is a place I've come to own and feel and live within. It has given me almost everything I've had in the last four years, and has affected every single thing I've done in that time. It's become safe, understood, reassuring. It's a place that has given me pride, accomplishment, and a sense of who I am. And yet, I know that returning this year will not be the same, and that in May 2009, it will all be over for good. Only one year from now. The only thing I can guarantee is that I'll be armed with 3 degrees, my personality, my confidence, and the friends I've made since I arrived. With those in my pocket I'll be turned loose on the world, just like everyone else, to make of it what I will.
I know very little for sure at this point. This month has become, as my brother put it, "a very weird sort of stasis." It's like my undergraduate education ended and left me at a train station with no ticket, money, or destination. Sure, things are lined up for the next 12 months of my life- an internship, graduate work, research, teaching, and music. The problem is that I don't think I want the life that I chose for myself four years ago. Having seen the working world, I could never give 40 hours a week to a cubicle, solving engineering design problems on a computer all day. I could never commute half an hour each way, take lunch with the same people, slowly build a suburban house into a truly American suburban castle. There's got to be more to life than that ... there's got to be more to living that that.
As I said, I don't know much of anything at this point. My father's illness reminded me that I need my family. The end of my last relationship reminded me that I need love. Saying goodbye to Lehigh reminds me now that I need friends, laughter, support, and a sense of belonging. So the question that everyone faces is ... where do we find those things? Where are they in our future? Where can we achieve them ... and also achieve work that fulfills us?
Before we left the high school last night, we found a display case full of the biggest trophies our high school band had ever earned. The tallest trophy in the case still belonged to the CHS band from my senior year, when we had won the state championships for the first time. Just seeing the trophy brought back memories from the whole season, and the night we won. Even four and a half years later, having come through so much, that memory still moved me so deeply ...
What I know for certain is that, in my life, I want to find a woman I know how to love. I want a family. I want to be able to provide for them. I want to see the world. I want to go on adventures without knowing how they're going to end. I want to devote some portion of my life to music. And, towards the end, I want to be the old man that people come to for advice, for laughter, and for stories.
It's a lot to ask, especially with no plan ... but I guess if I've learned one thing, in my four years as a Lehigh engineer, it's that you can usually get by with having absolutely no plan at all.
Happy Graduation, everyone. Good luck.
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