John Mayer at Shoreline

After work yesterday, I went to watch John Mayer perform at the Shoreline Amphitheater. Owl City opened the concert with a bunch of their favorites like Hello Seattle and Fireflies.

I first heard Owl City on Pandora a couple of years ago when they were still not widely known. I remember finding their style a bit eclectic, but fun. Seeing Owl City live was interesting for two reasons:

1) Owl City is actually just one person (Adam Young) who started out playing in his Minnesota basement. I had heard that before, but seeing it for myself was a whole different story. It was really quite amazing to see what Adam was able to create on his own.

2) The songs had very distinct beats that made it easy to move to the music. Seated on the lawn, I got a chance to practice some of the isolation moves I'd been learning in my beginning hip-hop classes.

After Owl City finished, there was a forty-five minute lull before John Mayer took the stage. I passed the time people-watching, digitally and otherwise. On the large screen in front of the lawn, there was an announcement inviting viewers to text in messages to a Shoreline number. These messages then scrolled by on a ticker-tape on the bottom of the screen.

It was almost like a live Twitter stream of people's thoughts except with some amount of anonymity. There were the expected shout-outs, the "I love you"s, the "happy birthday"s, and the "me + John Mayer = lovers"s. There were also some anonymous come-ons and snide comments: "to the boy in the green sweatshirt, I think you're cute and you could do much better...". 

Besides being an entertaining way of passing the time, these snippets got me thinking. To the casual outside observer of these messages, the names are faceless and may as well be characters in a story. For any given message, there were probably only a handful of people who knew the context and stories of the people featured in the message. To the rest of us, it was just an anonymous blast, a stream of consciousness that probably would never get shared in person. How much of our days are spent internally voicing such thoughts that never get aired in public? And when they are aired in such anonymous mediums, are they still genuine or fictionalized?

Anyway, I stopped pondering such weighty questions as soon as John Mayer burst on to the stage with Vultures. My first impression of John was that he looked slightly crazy with his unkempt hair and old-school headband, but that he was also completely comfortable and at ease in his own skin. His musical improvisations and impromptu, unfiltered comments in between set pieces only made him appear more genuine and strengthened his connection with the audience.

I'll try to recount some of the ridiculous things he did, but probably won't be able to do them full justice. In the middle of one song, he broke off to do a series of faux rocker-poses "for the photographers" since every picture of him playing makes him look "like a damn fool". In the lead-in to Who Says, the first song he played from his new album, he asked us how many people in the audience thought he was high at the moment. "I'm not high... but that's what a person who's high would say..." And "I've done nothing but arouse suspicions... and myself...". And near the end of the concert, he unabashedly admitted that he'd had too much tea and had to go to the bathroom.  Seriously, I can't make this stuff up.

John also gave the audience a bit of advice that resonated with me. "Eighty-five percent of the weight on your shoulders", most of what you worry about every day, is nothing. Burdened with self-consciousness, we often spend so much of our time fretting about little, inconsequential decisions, about how "our worst enemy" would rip us apart for it. Just let it go.

--Arkajit

Why Do We Read?

Yet again I found myself awake in the wee hours of the morning, a bit earlier than I had planned. And once again I felt compelled to write. Perhaps this is an indication of when my mind is most unencumbered and free to create.

What was I pondering today? Why do we read? What are the motivating factors? And as I formulated an answer in my half-sleeping mind, I thought that I should write it down.

I read for two reasons. The first, and most obvious one, is to learn about something new. This is the reading as pure information transfer view. When I read, I am, at least ostensibly, interested in what the author has to say. There's usually some nugget of information that I would like to glean from them. I can even classify reading for enjoyment under this branch of reasoning. There the information I collect from my readings has an intrinsic fun value to it.

The second, less obvious reason, is to learn how to write. And this is really one that can help you salvage an otherwise poor reading experience. Because even when the informational content of what I'm reading proves to be a dud, I do still notice how the piece is written. Word choices, turns of phrases, idioms, these are all things that you can really only learn through repeated exposure to them in the written word. A neat little phrasing here, a tight sentence there, like a scavenger, I keep what I like and discard the rest. Indeed, even essays completely lacking in information content and rhetorical devices can still teach you something: how you don't want to write.

If you don't already read to write, I'd encourage you to try it. At the very least, it'll make boring passages slightly more bearable if you have an ulterior motive for reading them. And it may even make you a better writer!

--Arkajit

4 a.m.

I'm a really light sleeper. I woke up to the sound of a laptop's warning beep that it was running low on battery. The laptop was in the next room. Across a couple closed doors.

I couldn't fall back asleep and stayed awake in bed for an hour or so, just thinking. This blog post is already sounding very familiar, but I'll keep writing and see what it has in store.

Though sleep eluded me, I still felt very relaxed and calm. The days have been a bit trying lately, but I felt quite at peace while I lay awake. I felt less weighed down by my problems. It was a nice, introspective session. It was almost like I was sitting on one of those comfortable reclining couches you see in psychiatrists' offices. (At least the ones on TV shows seem comfortable; I can't speak for real psychiatrists' offices.) Except there was no shrink. Well, not unless you count myself. Yeah, it was a bit like speaking to yourself as if you were an outside listener. I must say that I was a pretty good listener. I bet I could charge fairly competitive rates if I went pro.

What was I pondering? People, mostly. And, you know, life. If you know me, you know that I get easily addicted to TV shows. I'm very careful about starting a new show, because I know that as soon as I do, I'll likely be hooked. I'm a sucker for a good story, whether it's a book, movie, or lately a TV show. I get pulled into the character's lives and I often frame my musings on life in terms of what I gleaned from identifying with a character on some show or book. I like to tell myself that the time I spend watching these shows is time well-spent understanding human character. Perhaps that's just a gross rationalization, but I'm going to stick with that for now.

My musings on life usually culminate with an outpouring of affection and love for people. All the day-to-day prejudices, angst, and feelings of anger just wash away. All the petty troubles that plague my mind during the day don't seem as important anymore. And I realize that the Beatles were right along. All you need is love.

--Arkajit