not title

I have a horrible tendency to binge-devour content. Pop-culture content. Informational content. Any and all types of content. I am eternally prowling for my next fix--looking for a certain emotional, intellectual or some other kind of response. The trouble, though, is that I feel like I do nothing with this content. Once I see something new, I discard it as "already seen," so that I'm not applying it to anything.

And the thing is: I can't go back and re-experience that stuff. It loses its appeal the second I see it or experience it for the first time. So, in effect, it feels like I'm constantly overwhelming myself with new information but none of it sticks. I am and will always be, it seems, who I was or who I am essentially--before exposure to the content. I think in the same way, I choose words from the same mental wordbank. I'm seeing all this new stuff, reading new books, articles, watching new movies, listening to new music but it's impact is almost always temporary.

I'd like to be one of those people who is able to take every little bit of whatever kind of information, commit it to memory and still feel inspired by it later.

I don't know why I'm stuck in this pattern where I'm constantly chasing the "new." The things I like--whether its art or books or movies--are almost always regurgitations of information I'm already aware of. This ties in to all those cliches you hear about art or poetry--that the really good stuff is just the old stuff reconfigured. I don't lack the ability to look at things I'm already aware of in new and interesting ways. My problem is that I'm constantly searching for new and interesting things--things I've never seen before or experienced.

There are so many experiences to have, I know it's naive of me to think I've "seen everything." Because I haven't. But I'm old enough now, I feel, to have experienced most things and to know that any new sensations are just combinations and variations on things I've experienced before.

the dread subsides

There are two women talking over each other. One, the older one, dominates. Her voice cuts through stronger. The older one is talking about a commercial everyone has seen like no one has seen it. "Remember that commercial?" The younger woman pretends, for whatever reason, that she is only somewhat familiar with the commercial. "Oh, yeah!" The younger woman is being interviewed by the older woman for a job interview. She is sitting with her arms folded on the table. Back straight. Sitting up with good posture. The older woman is talking about anything and everything, treating the younger woman like an old friend. The younger woman plays along because she doesn't know if the casual nature of this conversation means she has the job or if the older woman is just the type of person who talks because she can't help herself.

I've never seen the younger woman outside of this one occasion, but I can tell she doesn't dress this nice all the time--that is: I can tell she dressed up extra special for this interview. The older woman is dressed nice, too--but it looks natural on her, like a second skin.

There is a book somewhere--several books--I'm certain--documenting not only appropriate interview behavior but the natural tendency in humans to defer when they want someone--an employer--to give them what they want--a job. The younger woman is a living, breathing real-life manifestation of the pages of this book. She agrees automatically with everything the older woman says:

"I know!"
"Yes!"
"Exactly!"
"Oh, I'm the same way!"

It must feel good to always agree with someone--to do it automatically, without thinking--without the peskiness of trying to defend your threadbare ego all the time--when agreeing means a betrayal of something essential--a core belief or conviction--that you cling to because, in some way, it dictates who you are.