If I haven’t seen you in a few months, here are some reflections circulating in my head like autumn leaves that I must capture before they crumble completely.

On top of being able to walk to work every day, I was fortunate to clock out to a display of festivities each afternoon this summer. Watching free spinning classes in motion (despite the sea of empty bikes), dancing subtly to live bossa nova, and simply sharing the sun with a mix of confused and harried tourists fueled up my happiness engine. I’m often struck by mixed feelings regarding my surroundings. Perhaps it’s pressure from my boyfriend to plan for our future that provokes my inner commitment-phobe of the geographic ilk.

The city pollutes quiet and masks the sun. Smokers dot the corner of every block. The city, which I once revered, does not sit well with me. But I know that a large part of me would miss awkward bumps with people going the opposite way on buses and elevators, if all this were taken away from me. Ultimately, I am just grateful for shelter; home is a haven I can go to any time, with enough silence to help me concentrate on things such as this, and enough space for my free spirit to wander and maybe whip up a loaf of pumpkin bread on a whim.

I’ve always subconsciously been pursuing, and now increasingly so, what I would call a “full life,” a home that one would be proud, not disappointed, to return to after a phenomenal vacation. Though, realistically, I can’t inoculate myself from that. Cue inner dialogue: “You’re not supposed to numb yourself; everyone knows that!” The notion of numbing has been floating around in my head lately since I realized I act out and am generally hopeless if stuck in the house all day. It could be a case of the fear of missing out, the origin of which is not so simple as just envying people’s Instagram stories; no, it runs deeper than that. On the other hand, a vacation or any general method of escape can offer a blessing rather than, or in addition to, a curse. For example, despite the dreary dystopian setting of the film, watching Bladerunner 2049 last weekend reduced my troubles to smithereens, if only for a short while. For a three-hour window the fate of civilization on Earth and the notion of humanity overshadowed any conflicts that I could think of on my own. Some would say this is just entertainment doing its job of anesthetizing the public, which, though not 100% healthy and pure, is necessary. Most people can’t just consume any kind of entertainment that crosses their path; we select what captures our attention most effectively: works that move us at our core and engage us personally. Per the words of Socrates, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Plenty of folks neither journal nor produce art. Instead, they examine their lives through consuming art and engaging in conversations sparked by it. Having opinions is having an examined life. All of this points to why being around people is often exhausting: they contain so many libraries of memories, emotions, opinions… When it seems like I’ve heard every dinner-party-worthy story from my boyfriend’s life, a buried memory could suddenly strike him at any moment. Other people are an escape in and of themselves, a reminder that we are just one individual. Even when merely doubled, the stories contained within an individual contain incredible volume and depth. I marvel at this idea constantly, effectively contributing to the difficulty I have in actually interacting with humans. I try to remember that beyond the haze of small talk that people forcibly spew lies a sweeping tale, rife with thematic elements from which we can glean inspiring main ideas. But such a reminder is often drowned by dark realities of how we live now: among increasingly divided company.  I generally avoid the news, partly to maintain my quiet bubble, but not with the intent to keep that bubble afloat in a constant state of dopey bliss. Rather, I avoid the news because I don’t need to keep up with current affairs in order to tap into the fascinating thoughts of the people. The simple truth is that if I actually cared enough I would sniff for the news at every opportunity.

Every now and then I reevaluate my level of apathy. On one hand, caring only about what I eat for dinner or how comfy my bed is sustains my sanity. “Simple pleasures” are often the rallying cry of self-help literature; how many of us haven’t had a friend recommend that we start a gratitude journal? Ideally, weltering in our own bubble shouldn’t hamper appreciation for the immensity of the world around us (and beyond). Of course, we have ups and downs. They say that if you’re too embroiled in your own troubles, you should consider how minuscule they really are, relative to the scope of the universe. Though flawed either way, this principle can also apply to the opposite situation: when you’re too entangled in your own contentment. And when I re-watch a really outstanding film, I am reminded of that complacency. As portrayed so very memorably by Kevin Spacey in the 1995 film Se7en, the serial killer “John Doe” defends his crimes with the assertion:

Only in a world this shitty could you even try to say these were innocent people and keep a straight face. But that’s the point. We see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it’s common, it’s trivial. We tolerate it morning, noon, and night. Well, not anymore. I’m setting the example. What I’ve done is going to be puzzled over and studied and followed… forever.

The screenplay of Se7en, though not especially original on the surface, does a great job of taking us into the mind of a killer in just the few minutes of audio and screen time reserved for him; it’s all he needed. You could say that figures like “John Doe” reject those simple pleasures more so than the average Joe (psychopathy might help with this), or they just don’t have those pleasures to begin with; that way, they see the larger “sins” of the world more glaringly than the sheep below. The only way to shatter complacent illusions would be to deliver a shock, a blow of wide-reaching impact that will cause people to question the stability of the society they live in. If you, a relatively content member of society, ever wanted to compare yourself with someone of a drastically different world view, just look to those aberrant folks for a minute (euphemism intended).

Besides the id, ego, and superego, we simply have a light side and a dark side, but not in terms of good and evil necessarily. We have the complacent, day-to-day side: Identifying behaviors include gossiping, taking the kids apple-picking, shooting some hoops with the boys, and complaining about the new iOS update. Behind that layer lies the pessimistic kind who frequents esoteric online forums, forgoes showers, smokes cigarettes, and occasionally succumbs to an angry outburst. Okay, only a handful of us do those things…on a basic level, that pessimistic mind has a hard time falling asleep and getting up in the morning. There’s no shortage of shocking events happening every day for us to grit our teeth at. For me, fictional accounts of such stories have been safe territory for the provocation of thought. I guess they cushion me from any harsh reality. The news, just by virtue of being (arguably) factual, has hardly a track record for inspiring me. But I’ll learn to pick my internal battles. After all, stories are stories; all that really changes is our attention.

Time to stop thinking about serial killers. This is draining, admittedly.

I dunno, I just like movies that make me wonder.