THIRTY SOMETHING by Ishi Dinim
AT THE TIME of writing, I’ve spent the last five days nursing a mean flu. Probably lost about 10 pounds and who knows how many hours of sleep? It’s funny how humbling life can be. I was scared to touch my family for fear of infecting them.
Lately, I’ve been having these wonderful staring contests with my daughter. I’m not sure exactly what she’s communicating, but there is definitely great wisdom behind those eyes and I’m convinced that I’m starting to learn how to speak baby.
I’ve been lying awake at night drenched in sweat, shivering, my mind racing. I wonder why things are the way they are. My world here in Vancouver seems perfect, even with all the contradictions of this place. I get stuck thinking about the world’s problems and don’t see many solutions. I like to believe that I’m a good problem solver. I try to escape my small-amount ideas and think of something new. When I ask myself, “Why do people hurt other people?” I’m baffled and can only shake my head. So I distract myself, filling my time with inconsequential activity.
If this seems a bit all over the place, it is. I can barely focus on anything except for the pain in my body and the high fever; it’s like trying to form an idea in a pot of boiling water. I called around and asked people to help inspire me.
My friend Dave told me I should write about how we’re all living so close together yet we’re mostly isolated. There is a naïve first world independence that says we don’t need anybody else, just more money, and we’ll be okay. How do we show that we care for others? Starting with our family and then rippling out. Are we consciously doing our best to let people know we’re there for them? People get drunk and hug each other about hockey wins, but don’t have the time for a homeless person.
I’ve heard that our generation is not involved in volunteerism anymore and that there isn’t time or motivation for activism. I know this isn’t entirely true, but it’s frightening to ponder if it is. On a brighter note, I called my sister Maili and she said I should write about all the blossoms and flowers and chances to bare our arms. She said I should write about the birds and the bees. Then I laughed. Maybe that means I’m getting better
Quit worrying about your health. It’ll go away. – Robert Orben
The average, healthy, well-adjusted adult gets up at seven-thirty in the morning feeling just plain terrible. – Jean Kerr
Be silent as to services you have rendered, but speak of favours you have received. – Seneca
Ishi graduated from Emily Carr Institute of Art and Design in 2001, with a BFA major in photography. He makes films, collects cacti and ponders many things. Currently, he is doing what he can for himself and the firstname.lastname@example.org
Waiting to hear echoes back…