Doing Things We've Never Done Before

Several weeks ago, my sister and I attended a public showing of Breakfast At Tiffany's.  The film was shown in an old theatre located in downtown Hillsboro that, oddly enough, insisted on separating minors by placing them on the balcony, leaving the drunken viewers downstairs.  My sister was a little perturbed at this, hoping to enjoy a slinky cocktail while seated beside her nineteen year old sister.  But alas, the evening presented her with a choice, and she chose me.  So together we trudged up the stairs to the anti-alcohol section, me careful not to trip in my Audrey Hepburn-inspired heels, she still a bit bitter by the segregation.  I wondered why the drinkers weren't herded up to the balcony like they were at the Roseland and the Crystal Ballroom, but the answer was clear enough: 1. They were closer to the bar in this set-up, and more importantly 2. The main level didn't pose the risk of cascading from the balcony in an unbalanced, drunken stupor.  Shelby and I were the only people on the balcony, so I was evidently the only minor present.

But I digress.

The point of informing the reader of my recent Breakfast at Tiffany's experience has nothing to do with the balcony, and all to do with a certain scene in the film.  In this scene, Holly and Paul embark on a day of doing things they'd never done before, including drinking champagne before breakfast, going to the library, stealing animal masks from a store, and purchasing an item at Tiffany's.  The ingenuity of this scene overwhelmed me with inspiration--this idea of experiencing new things, I realized, could be the key to avoiding the drudgery of day-to-day existence.  Living for new experiences and sensations could be more than a childish whim or a fun idea: it could be a philosophy.

This philosophy, practiced within limits, could be the key to preserving imagination, interest in the world, and child-like wonder--traits I value highly, and hope to never lose.  Thus, I have decided to practice this philosophy, and pursue at least one new experience every day.  The experience needn't be earth-shattering, innovative or even that exciting: it could consist of ordering a new dish at a restaurant, walking a new way to class, etc.  My hope in this is to experience the world as much as possible, and preserve the zest and appeal of life that disappears with stagnancy and complacency.  

This blog is a documentation of my new experiences.  It will not always appear in chronological order, for time is not linear, but scattered: "All time is all time.  It does not change.  It does not lend itself to warnings or explanations.  It simply is." (Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five 86)

This blog is dedicated to the lovely ladies who helped me decide what to blog about: Elizabeth Bayer, Sara Guerre, Laura Kingzett and Kirsten Myers.