Zeitgeist

Zeitgeist. The spirit of the time. The ghost of the time. The passed away. And I began to think about history.

A history of ontology. Of hauntology.

I don’t know much about philosophy, nor do I care for theories. I always get lost in the continuous name dropping and term coining. I recognize every word but fail to decipher the meaning. Those terms are spinning, always spinning. I feel dizzy.

They are floating, are haunting. I jump to catch them, but clasp only wind. 

Something celestial, something aerial.

Zeitgeist, the first German word I can recall. I found it somewhere in the introduction of a certain era in Norton Anthology. I was compelled to pronounce it, looked up the phonetic symbols, but stumbled over the combination of sibilants and fricatives. 

German sounds a harsh language. I used to practice German, reading all to myself, and Mother would think I was swearing.

"Is every thing alright dear? You sound furious."

The hauntology of the maternal lament. I was sick and stupid enough to have shown it. At the end of the day she was crying.

"I started to think if I made the wrong decision. You are there, all alone, having a fever, and I can't even take care of you."  

I am not the prodigal daughter. I am still on escape. I tried to justify myself but the words would not come my way. 

On escape for the pursuit of ontological value.

"Why are you even there? Come back, come back to us."

"I need to figure things out, Mother"

"Why do you need to figure things out?"

The pursuit of ontological value in a lost generation. Modernity came and was overthrown. Post-modernity, what now?

"I just need to figure things out, Mother."

I need to look for the spirit of the time. An apparition that would lead my way.

It does not have to be holy.

It just needs to appear.

Zeitgeist. I met the word roughly six years ago. 

I believed in something, so I never stopped looking.

I was performing a one man show on an estranged stage, waiting for its entrance.

It just needs to make its entrance.

Something celestial, something aerial. Something existential.

It just needs to make its entrance.

New

"So, what's new?"

I ran into Jack in this artsy cafe in the hip area of the city. We were college friends. He was the jock and I was the weird gothic guy taking Latin and philosophy. As different as we were we somehow got along quite well. He dropped out of college and started modeling, whereas I went all the way to PhD.

"Well, nothing much. I am now dating Kate. You know, that ballerina."

I was hardly surprised. Every time a new girlfriend.

"What about Jasmine? I thought she was your meant to be."

"Well, new is always better, right?" said Jack, I could hear the fake positive tone he was making out to clear his conscience.

Oh Jack Jack Jack, the irresistible Jack. The reluctant womanizer. Back in college I always saw him taking a liking in a girl, sleep with her, and break her heart by sleeping with someone else. He always claimed that all he had done was just listen to what his heart said to him.

Jack knows he's a good looking guy. Blue eyes, brunette hair, slightly curly, and a prominent Greek nose. Six feet tall, like a life size statue of David. Jack knows he's good looking and he makes the best of it. Every party a different girl and unconvincing as it sounds, he always claims he has genuine feelings for them.

"Girls are like, so pretty. Each one of them is like so charming in their own ways. How could you actually turn them down when they are like looking at you with their sparkling eyes?" said Jack romantically, though the melancholia he was trying to come across did not really go with his valley girl English.

I guess that's the major element of a Don Juan. He genuinely does not believe he is a womanizer because he really seems to like every one of them.

"Just coffee? Nothing more?" The waitress came to take his order. Her unusual high pitched voice and flirty smile caught my attention.

"Nope. I am happy here." Jack returned her a dazzling smile.

I swear that waitress almost blushed.

"And what's new with you?" asked Jack, he did not seem to notice the waitress' unusual behavior.

"Well, I am thinking about changing the topic of my dissertation again. And yeah, I guess, new is always better."

I am pretty sure Jack did not get my sarcasm. He merely smiled, and gave me a thumbs up.