A Small Gesture

I'm sitting here in the university's dining hall. They're hosting a study hall through the night, offering free drinks (coffee and the like) to help students study for finals.

I've had four finals already, and my last one's in about five and half hours. It's getting hard for me to concentrate, as I've had little to no sleep in the past few days, and constantly taxing my brain with calculus, oceanography terms, geography concepts, and the bane of all medical students: ochem. I'm sitting here, at 2:35 in the morning, trying as hard as I can to concentrate on studying for physics. But my mind keeps wandering, and I keep thinking about getting on that plane home. Less than 17 hours before I get home. So you see, my brain's beginning to wander.

I tried to kick myself back onto the studying path. I got up, refueled my cup of joe, and went back to scrolling through MIT's opencourseware physics notes. And a small, insignificant, seemingly meaningless memory surfaced...

A couple years ago, around this time, while I was still in high school, studying for some block of exams (may have been midterms, finals, or AP testing, I don't quite remember), my mom knocked on my door, late into the night when she'd usually be sleeping already, and came in with a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee. Told me to try and finish studying sooner so I could get some sleep, wished me luck, and went back to bed. I don't think I ever thanked her for that.

So this is just to say, when was the last time you took the time to thank someone close, be it family or friends? For all the little things they do. And when was the last time you performed a small, random act of kindness? The world could always use a little more kindness to go around. Especially this time of year. :)

There Comes a Time

I just finished watching last week's episode of Bones. And it spoke volumes. At least, to me.

To those who know me well, you know my situation, my relationship with a certain individual in my family. And to those who don't know me, you will easily be able to figure out what this relationship is like if you've seen the aforementioned episode.

A Father's Day card from Booth his father kept

A key part of last week's episode was how one of the main characters, FBI Agent Seeley Booth, dealt with the death of his estranged father. Throughout the episode, Booth pushes away everyone who tries to comfort him on his loss, announcing he doesn't want to talk about it, his father wasn't exactly there for much of his life, etc. Among the people he pushes away is his grandfather, whom he calls "Pops" and is the person who raised Booth. Pops was relenting at first, but eventually said to Booth something along the lines of, "How do you think I feel about this? He's my son! You don't think I don't feel guilty about the way he turned out?" Then towards the end of the episode, Pops reads a letter addressed to him from Booth's father. It was the usual lines that you see and hear in these kind of story lines about how he was sorry, and that his sons deserved better, but then Pops gave Booth a small wooden box, which Booth at first dismissed. At the very end, Brennan (Booth's girlfriend and main character of the show) convinces Booth to open the box. For the good memories. And inside contained some of Booth's fondest childhood memories, among them, memories from the one "perfect day" he had with his father.

One of the photos in the box.

 I couldn't help but relate. I am extremely angry at my own father about what he's done. I resent him, and I have a hatred for him inside me that nobody should have for a parent. Anytime things relating to the subject are brought up, my mom tries to convince me that he is still, after all, my father; much like how Pops and Brennan try to talk Booth out of despising his father so much. That I should try not to feel that way, that I should remember from before shit happened. But it's hard. It's so incredibly difficult. But those last two scenes I described above, the ones these images depict... I have pictures like those. I have experiences and memories like those shown that are so easily forgettable in light of what's been done. And it made me think once again, how will I react when the day comes? I keep telling myself that I won't care, that he's hurt us, my mother, brothers and me, too much. But things like this throw in a pang of guilt, a twinge of doubt. Well I guess I'll know for certain sooner or later. A bit morbid for a kid to be thinking huh?

Booth's "perfect day" with his late father.

I realize that people may say that I'm overanalyzing or that it's just a TV show, but I don't think I am. You see, that's the great thing about TV shows, or just art in general (yes, it is an art). The thing about art, be it a photo, video, music, novel, etc, is just how many people it can touch. It's a blank canvas where real people can tell a real story. A photo might be edited to make you focus on something. A song might be auto-tuned or have some other kind of filter overlaid on the track. A novel might be fiction. And a video may be dramatized. But at the end of the day, all these works tell a story, and they're the result of the very real relationships of very real human beings. They're about common experiences we all share. And that's what makes them so great. That's what makes art a universal aspect of the human race. That's why I love film, television, video-making, etc. so much.

A photo with meaning much likes ones I know we have, hidden away somewhere.

They are truly a testament to the human experience. No matter where you are in the world, no matter what you may be feeling right now, you know that you are not alone.