Alex saying Hi
Alex Villa

Hello World

May 24, 2020

My heavy urban bike after a ride to Treptower Park

Saturday, 5:30am: It's being particularly challenging to convince myself to sit down and write this down. But if not tonight, when?

Tonight, like if there was something that resembled the night in the sun that's shining down the street in Kreuzberg at 5am as I write this. I'm still getting used to living more far up north than I've ever lived. And before this pandemic, I was way too used to only seeing this sunlight without sleeping when coming out of a techno club. But life changes.

Everything is changing. Everyone is changing.

It is impossible to believe that something that forces/gives the unprecedented chance to many of us, of stopping for a moment to spend time with ourselves. With our thoughts, fears, regrets and hopes. During times of uncertainty, we all try to hold on to our identities, which are essentially constructed by both, a sense of belonging and a sense of meaning.

This is only an hypothesis, of course. We all filter reality through the senses of our personal narratives, and while I'm convinced that I'm sensing a lot of change, existential longings for the meaning of it all and people coming together in communal identities more than ever, I also know that my journey in the past 3 months have resembled this path: a deep dive into fear and unbearable emotions that become physical pain, overcome by the resolution to look for meaning and call the shots I have on my hands, nurtured by constant human connection. And to a very personal level, saved and care for by the love of my life. But I digress.

I intend to look deeper into the hypothesis of search for meaning and belonging being an emotional second order effect in society. Part of this experiment is completely personal, for I mainly have myself to experiment with.

This is also a consequence of writing being a path towards oneness for me: getting zoned in while creating something is one of the most perfect, peaceful moments a human can experience, I find that writing these lines.

What this is:

  • An experimental exercise.
  • The only Gatsby project I could come up with.
  • A big rant, hopefully, with a little bit of narrative sprinkled in.
  • A very hard attempt to keep someone's attention long enough to tell a story, because a certain level of obsession with narratives is a healthy thing to have.
  • What this is not:

  • A political statement of any sort.
  • Anything that takes itself too seriously.
  • A public journal (went through my Movable Type powered, personal-blog era in 2004, been there, done that).
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