In light of recent events, I've been contemplating my self-identity and how it relates to greater human society. Humans are understandably egotistic creatures; after all, you never get to live a life other than your own, and you can never truly understand what goes on in the mind of another person and how their life has shaped them. Taking this into consideration, it's hard to imagine billions of souls who function in this unique way, and it's even harder to have to think of them as a whole.
I found myself last night on the 71st floor of a skyscraper, on a rooftop restaurant that had an incredible view of Manila.
Part of being a city girl, I believe, is finding these views exhilarating. Some may prefer vast expanses of empty wilderness more pleasing to their mind's eye, and while I don't intend to critique their preferences, nothing to me is more mind boggling than an aerial view of a large metropolis.
I don't really know what pleasures other people feel in seeing such views, but these are the things that I think about. (Other than the feeling of being on top of the world that is relatable enough to not need explanation.)
I regard the maze of buildings and I think about how each of these structures was once conceived in the mind of a human being, and how these plans were executed thanks to the hands and machines built by other humans. The process is repeated over and over until it creates the mass that is a city. It's really quite impressive.
I ponder all the movement occurring within the sight my eyes gaze at. There is the obvious movement of cars, but then I think of what might be going on in each building. People being reunited with long-lost friends, people saying good-bye and parting indefinitely, people being born, people dying. All part of the flow that is life.
As the sun set and night fell, the city lit up magnificently. Lights are pretty, and more often than not only thought of as an abstraction, but the lights coming from the expanse of buildings and skyscrapers represent individuals much like myself going about their daily task of living. Individuals I may share a connection to in some obscure way though I will never meet them. Later last night, I sat in my room and lifted up the window blinds higher than normal. I stared out, now within the maze of buildings that I had been so high above earlier. The glow cast by my lamp probably reached the outside, and I wondered if somebody in the distance might have seen it and thought about where it might be coming from. There's no harm in being curious.
If their curiosity had led them to wonder what was going on in this precise source of light, they ought to catch a glimpse into my life right now. It leads us back to my contemplating my self-identity.
I will not be able to make it to India this summer because of my lack of a visa, and the improbability of me being granted one in time.
Fucking visa.
That's how I've been referring to it, and if you are offended by language I really can't accommodate your problems.
I can't think of myself as above international law, and as much as I'd love to make an exception of myself to this, I really can't. The law doesn't care about my friendship with Aarohi. It doesn't care how long I've been wanting to visit India, how long I've been longing to see her again. It doesn't care that I consider myself a citizen of the world, it doesn't care that three countries share an equally special place in my heart.
It cares that I have renounced my Filipino citizenship to become a naturalized American. It cares that now that I travel with an American passport I need to be pre-approved by the Indian Embassy just so I can visit. It cares what political soil on this planet I happen to find myself on.
Let me be a selfish human being and resent this. What else can I do? Write a blog entry I suppose, not that it would change anything.
The particularities and circumstances of individuals are impossible to all consider, which is why rules must be made that must apply to everyone. And since "everyone" when referring to the populace of human beings on Earth is an overwhelming amount, this daunting task becomes easier when land masses are geographically defined by political, human-determined boundaries. That way, certain particularities unique to each region can be considered.
I was at the American Women's Club of the Philippines' bazaar the other day, and as I was having lunch I overheard some men talking on the table next to me. One of them was Danish, and the other Filipino. Having friends who have lived in Denmark, it made me smile. The Filipino asked, "How many people are there in Denmark?" The Dane replied, "6 million." The Filipino exclaimed, "Wow! That's less than the population of Manila!"
It's diversity in societies like that that calls for laws that cater to certain nations. But at the same time, considering how well these two different individuals got along with one another, it brings me back to the idea that fundamentally we are all the same. Despite our own complicated circumstances that only we can fully understand, all humans have the ability to at least sympathize with one another. In this idea, an individual can be analogous to a country.
Unfortunately, we don't live in this idealized world. These are just my thoughts. If I had the choice between writing a philosophical blog entry and being in India with Aarohi, there isn't even a question as to what I would pick. But as long as I got something out of this experience, I won't be feeling hopeless any longer.
I think I'm going to make it a goal whenever I visit a new big city to find the highest point I can and gaze at the city below. And when I do, I'll remember the reflections I wrote about here. I've peered down at Paris from the Montparnasse Tower, at Strasbourg from the cathedral, at Venice from St. Mark's campanile, at Boston from the science building at Harvard. I'd have loved to see Mumbai from high above as well, but it'll just have to be put down lower in the list.
In the meantime, I'm eager to find out which city I'll get to experience in this way next.
I found myself last night on the 71st floor of a skyscraper, on a rooftop restaurant that had an incredible view of Manila.
Part of being a city girl, I believe, is finding these views exhilarating. Some may prefer vast expanses of empty wilderness more pleasing to their mind's eye, and while I don't intend to critique their preferences, nothing to me is more mind boggling than an aerial view of a large metropolis.
I don't really know what pleasures other people feel in seeing such views, but these are the things that I think about. (Other than the feeling of being on top of the world that is relatable enough to not need explanation.)
I regard the maze of buildings and I think about how each of these structures was once conceived in the mind of a human being, and how these plans were executed thanks to the hands and machines built by other humans. The process is repeated over and over until it creates the mass that is a city. It's really quite impressive.
I ponder all the movement occurring within the sight my eyes gaze at. There is the obvious movement of cars, but then I think of what might be going on in each building. People being reunited with long-lost friends, people saying good-bye and parting indefinitely, people being born, people dying. All part of the flow that is life.
As the sun set and night fell, the city lit up magnificently. Lights are pretty, and more often than not only thought of as an abstraction, but the lights coming from the expanse of buildings and skyscrapers represent individuals much like myself going about their daily task of living. Individuals I may share a connection to in some obscure way though I will never meet them. Later last night, I sat in my room and lifted up the window blinds higher than normal. I stared out, now within the maze of buildings that I had been so high above earlier. The glow cast by my lamp probably reached the outside, and I wondered if somebody in the distance might have seen it and thought about where it might be coming from. There's no harm in being curious.
If their curiosity had led them to wonder what was going on in this precise source of light, they ought to catch a glimpse into my life right now. It leads us back to my contemplating my self-identity.
I will not be able to make it to India this summer because of my lack of a visa, and the improbability of me being granted one in time.
Fucking visa.
That's how I've been referring to it, and if you are offended by language I really can't accommodate your problems.
I can't think of myself as above international law, and as much as I'd love to make an exception of myself to this, I really can't. The law doesn't care about my friendship with Aarohi. It doesn't care how long I've been wanting to visit India, how long I've been longing to see her again. It doesn't care that I consider myself a citizen of the world, it doesn't care that three countries share an equally special place in my heart.
It cares that I have renounced my Filipino citizenship to become a naturalized American. It cares that now that I travel with an American passport I need to be pre-approved by the Indian Embassy just so I can visit. It cares what political soil on this planet I happen to find myself on.
Let me be a selfish human being and resent this. What else can I do? Write a blog entry I suppose, not that it would change anything.
The particularities and circumstances of individuals are impossible to all consider, which is why rules must be made that must apply to everyone. And since "everyone" when referring to the populace of human beings on Earth is an overwhelming amount, this daunting task becomes easier when land masses are geographically defined by political, human-determined boundaries. That way, certain particularities unique to each region can be considered.
I was at the American Women's Club of the Philippines' bazaar the other day, and as I was having lunch I overheard some men talking on the table next to me. One of them was Danish, and the other Filipino. Having friends who have lived in Denmark, it made me smile. The Filipino asked, "How many people are there in Denmark?" The Dane replied, "6 million." The Filipino exclaimed, "Wow! That's less than the population of Manila!"
It's diversity in societies like that that calls for laws that cater to certain nations. But at the same time, considering how well these two different individuals got along with one another, it brings me back to the idea that fundamentally we are all the same. Despite our own complicated circumstances that only we can fully understand, all humans have the ability to at least sympathize with one another. In this idea, an individual can be analogous to a country.
Unfortunately, we don't live in this idealized world. These are just my thoughts. If I had the choice between writing a philosophical blog entry and being in India with Aarohi, there isn't even a question as to what I would pick. But as long as I got something out of this experience, I won't be feeling hopeless any longer.
I think I'm going to make it a goal whenever I visit a new big city to find the highest point I can and gaze at the city below. And when I do, I'll remember the reflections I wrote about here. I've peered down at Paris from the Montparnasse Tower, at Strasbourg from the cathedral, at Venice from St. Mark's campanile, at Boston from the science building at Harvard. I'd have loved to see Mumbai from high above as well, but it'll just have to be put down lower in the list.
In the meantime, I'm eager to find out which city I'll get to experience in this way next.
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