New but Familiar (1)
For a long time, I was unable to write down my thoughts. This was because, after moving to a new place, I became overwhelmed by an influx of new ideas—so many that I eventually became fed up with them.
When new ideas emerge in my life, I tend to get overly excited and become fixated on a single thought until I feel satisfied. Normally, I conduct research online. I enjoy reading books, but I prefer internet sources as they reflect a continuous flow of live thought. Despite their shallowness, they possess a certain freshness, a sense of immediacy. After a few days of contemplation, I finally begin my internet research. This stage is crucial in determining whether the topic truly interests me—is this a subject I can pursue without losing interest? Is it something I can develop into a final piece of work? If it passes this test (as decided by me, of course—haha), the real research begins. Books and essays follow, along with an assessment of their credibility. This is the most time-consuming phase of any project.
Most ideas do not make it past the “internet research” stage. Some may seem interesting, but I struggle to envision a final outcome. Others lack sufficient sources to support further development. And sometimes, an idea turns out to be not as strong as I initially thought.
I have always worked in my own way and at my own pace (as described above). However, after starting a new life as a fresher at university, I feel confused and lost. My mind feels paralysed by an excess of information, as though it has split into two parts—New Me and Old Me.
Old Me rarely visited museums (only occasionally) but preferred going to the cinema. Old Me did not read philosophical books but enjoyed sci-fi and mystery novels instead. Old Me did not focus on design as a means of change but rather as a way of understanding existence and the world. Old Me did not believe that human nature was inherently good but instead saw it as fundamentally flawed—believing that this was precisely why we must make a desperate effort to be good. Old Me did not take things at face value but only accepted facts after subjecting them to sceptical doubt. Old Me constantly questioned everything—both to others and to myself. Old Me did not assume I was a good person, which is why I always felt the need to strive to become one.
Old Me did not see design as a tool for transforming the world into a utopia but rather as a journey towards finding answers. And yet, paradoxically, Old Me was always drawn to newness and fresh perspectives—almost as if it had an interest in discovering New Me and was attempting to shed its old skin, abandoning its former self.
But Old Me does not want to change. It fears losing the comfort of familiarity. It is terrified of disappearing. Old Me clings to memory as a symbol of familiarity. After all, without accumulated memories, there is no sense of familiarity at all.
続き
