What I hate about Trader Joe’s, sunsets, and the music of Yiruma

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Thank goodness , no sunset at 7 AM!

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I remember I was walking down Massachusetts Avenue with a professor of mine around a year ago, and we waited at the pedestrian crossing. He asked me what I was going to do, to which I said, “groceries”, making it somewhat obvious that I still didn’t know how to pronounce the word with confidence (sorry but the English is not my first language). He asked, “Trader Joes, Whole Foods?”, to which I replied, “ugh!! neither! I’m very loyal to Star Market”. Chances are you, dear reader, have heard of the first two, but Star Market is a supermarket chain exclusive to the Boston area. It is very plain and ‘unaesthetic’, gray and boring, and utterly functional.

Trader Joes was the first store I went to in Boston. I must have arrived in the evening and it was the supermarket closest to my nice apartment at Gloucester Street, and my landlady had recommended it to me. So I went, bought myself dinner- a vegan rainbow wrap, and some chips and salsa. I hated all of it because it was so bland and empty. Mr Trader Joes completely turned me off, but I still went every now and then to get this vegan ice cream awkwardly called Soy Creamy, which I presume is now discontinued because I can’t find it. When I discovered the Star Market on Huntington Avenue only an additional 5 minutes further from Trader Joes, I knew I had found my supermarket of choice. It feels like home now and even my friend once said he can sleep on the floor there if he wants to.

Anyways, as I bid farewell to my professor back on Massachusetts Avenue I tried to think about why I had recoiled at the thought of Trader Joes, because I knew it wasn’t just the unappetizing vegan rainbow wrap. There was something else about it..hmmm yes…. maybe the aesthetic of the place.. why were they trying to be so friendly and cool and hip and youthful or whatever? Why were my eyes always assaulted with these artsy paintings as I take the escalator? Why were the cashiers actually nice? And how the hell did all of this make me feel so tense?

As I entered Star Market that evening I think I had finally recognized it. I must have looked at the tasteless white lights, the lack of creative visual choices, very plain looking posters, and just a whole lot of things I could buy placed on shelves. What an unpresumptuous aesthetic! I was just there to buy a can of chickpeas, and I wasn’t there to be entertained. Star Market did the job well and didn’t distract me with any excess imagery. Star Market did not force me to appreciate it or corner me into feeling welcome. Star Market granted me a blank canvas of sorts- I could show up ecstatic, unhappy, stressed, or in my pyjamas, and I could always fit in at Star Market.

I decided that all of this just had to go deeper. I started thinking of the various social situations I've been in where it was customary to smile or be respectful, and remembered being asked dreadful questions such as "why aren't you smiling?" or "are you sad?". Were they asking me to smile? What an odd demand. Wait, that's it! They were trying to take my freedom away from me, in this case, my emotional freedom. They couldn't accept that I could be naturally prone to feeling unimpressed, unenthusiastic, or what have you- they were forcing me to be happy and excited as they were, or seemed to be, or presented themselves to be. Well, they failed because I feel very comfortable being boring, thanks very much but no thanks.

So that was it. Trader Joes, um, 'demanded' that I enter its premises feeling happy and enthusiastic about shopping there. "We're Trader Joes! We have nice paintings on the wall! Look at the art on our price tags!". And what if I said I didn't like any of it in particular?

Sunsets are similar because although I do like them from time to time, it feels like someone will judge me if I say I don't like them all that much. Somehow it all goes back to the feeling of being asked, "why aren't you smiling?", or in cases like these, "why don't you find it beautiful?". If I am agnostic about the beauty behind these things and others claim it's beautiful, then the burden of proof is on them. They have to explain the beauty, and I'm guessing most people won't be able to- "it must be beautiful because I feel it's beautiful and other people would probably agree with me"! My feeling is, "It can be beautiful, whatever that means, but it depends on the person, it is a complex topic" and so on and so forth.

Easily the biggest offender is schmaltzy music like "River Flows in You". Despite being a snobbish musician, I do believe that music like that is not at all easy to write, but what I find annoying is the extramusical factors. I imagine a hall full of people, the lights are dim, and the pianist is on stage looking all emotional or whatever and playing 'beautiful' music from the soul and what not and everyone looks all emotional and surrendered to who knows what feeling. And I just feel cringed out beyond belief. What if I said I was not moved by it because I'm usually not? I would feel ostracized. In those concert situations I secretly wish for a phone to start ringing or maybe someone falls from their chair or perhaps someone can liven the dull, sterile, 'beautiful' moment by sneezing or farting.

I let my thoughts rip further and noticed that similar feelings came up at concert halls, which have always seemed grand and slightly intimidating to me. Symphony halls can be a place which can evoke a sense of history, culture, tradition, etc. A term that is often used to describe classical music and also the usual classical music legends is "great". Somehow I feel like the slightly ostentatious "BEETHOVEN" sign at Boston Symphony Hall is trying to tell me, "listen, this place is synonymous with greatness and richness and greatness". And I feel like I'm not being asked to discuss that statement, I'm being told to believe it. Why else would the sign be in front of my face and everyone else's? What does Beethoven even have to do with Boston? Would Beethoven ask for a plaque of himself? What if I said, "well Beethoven is fine but since I am rather ignorant I'm not willing to say 'great'; besides, that term just sounds very confusing can you use another term like 'important' or 'influential'- btw you seem unwell, did you just assume I was going to say, 'Yes Beethoven is great!'"?

I like Baroque music very much, and certainly J.S. Bach's too, but I feel uncomfortable when I read blurbs about musicians and they say "they went to Bach for inspiration". "Everything goes to back to Bach". "The greatest musician in all human history is Bach". I wish that instead of having 'culture' tell me what to think of Bach, that I could rather take a time machine and hang out with Bach when he wasn't particularly famous, and appreciate him on my own terms, which I most certainly would.

Once I realized that I wanted most was to freedom to think for myself, and recognized feeling trapped not with natural phenomena, supermarket chains, or cheesy music, but rather with usually well meaning but ultimately very different people who often passively (and harmlessly) opine en masse about these things, I think my mind felt a little more aware of itself.

I can extrapolate a lot from this general sentiment but in particular I began asking myself what kinds of people make me feel emotionally trapped. I feel good when my close friends, not necessarily musicians (or good ones, lol jk i am an aspiring musician myself), listen to my music and tell me "yeah I wouldn't really listen to this". Because firstly they are being honest, but secondly, I should also feel a little good about myself in that I have granted them the emotional freedom to speak freely, which is what I would expect from them too, because we are friends. There is no doubt to that the opposite is true sometimes, where I can deny that freedom to others and come off as arrogant and I should work on that.

The title really should have been “Exploring my occasional reluctance towards- but not complete condemnation of- sunsets, Trader Joe’s, and the music of Yiruma”, but that’s hardly catchy. As always these thoughts will no doubt change as I introspect further but I will document them in their current state nonetheless.

I really like writing and as I enter yet another self discovery phase in my life I suspect blogging will accompany it. Whenever I think of whether my blog will be 'successful', whatever that means, I tell myself that maybe my blog isn't meant to be read by a gazillion people, but maybe it's meant to be written by me, and I find that comforting in its own way. As an non-popular but successful-in-my-own-way musician I expect this sentiment will echo in my mind for many years to come.