Through the aid of media, I am here. In my head. Right now I am cerebral- that's what they call it. I want to view my world and narrate and examine through the filters of knowledge and experience and emotion and reason- and suddenly I think.
Why did I ever stop?
Why did I ever yield to mental static?
Ease?
Apathy?
Depression?
And,
More importantly-
How do I stay here?
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Five years
Five years from now. I can see it and I can feel it so clearly. No, well, perhaps clear isn't the right word. Neither is see. I can feel it... vividly. I see only snippets. Flashes of sun in a living room, a wagging tail. A purple couch and a block of knives and a well stocked kitchen and the game systems all set up where me and he will play video games after a great dinner and a long rehearsal.
This is my future. The one in my head, anyway. I can feel it. So close, so attainable, but so far away. I have the feelings inside me- I know I want to be happy and adjusted and loved, but right now all I can do is finish school. I want to learn and graduate, but I want it to have happened already.
Unfortunately for me, school is seeming longer and longer. They say it's about the journey, I know, but right now... I'm tired of the journey. It wearies me. It bores me. It seems like I can't be the person I want to be and do the things I want to do and feel the way I want to feel simply because I'm not there yet. I'm working to get there, but in the process I am longing for the result.
Maybe I can call it motivation. Maybe my vision will drive me to get what I can't have yet. But oh, I want it so bad. I want a job at a school and an apartment and good food and a big dog and a man who loves me and my video games. Mostly in that order, but I'm more or less flexible.
I want my life to start. I'm ready. Bring it.
This is my future. The one in my head, anyway. I can feel it. So close, so attainable, but so far away. I have the feelings inside me- I know I want to be happy and adjusted and loved, but right now all I can do is finish school. I want to learn and graduate, but I want it to have happened already.
Unfortunately for me, school is seeming longer and longer. They say it's about the journey, I know, but right now... I'm tired of the journey. It wearies me. It bores me. It seems like I can't be the person I want to be and do the things I want to do and feel the way I want to feel simply because I'm not there yet. I'm working to get there, but in the process I am longing for the result.
Maybe I can call it motivation. Maybe my vision will drive me to get what I can't have yet. But oh, I want it so bad. I want a job at a school and an apartment and good food and a big dog and a man who loves me and my video games. Mostly in that order, but I'm more or less flexible.
I want my life to start. I'm ready. Bring it.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love :: A poem
I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love.
The world was cold and I was warm, not the other way around.
I dreamed my skin felt good on me.
I dreamed the dark sky was lit up with tiny flakes
that graced our glowing faces with kisses
We didn't interact, but I knew we were in love.
And I knew he was right there beside me.
I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love.
The world was cold and I was warm, not the other way around.
I dreamed my skin felt good on me.
I dreamed the dark sky was lit up with tiny flakes
that graced our glowing faces with kisses
We didn't interact, but I knew we were in love.
And I knew he was right there beside me.
I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Time for you
An English teacher told me this years ago and I have kept it and put it in my pocket to save for times like right now.
From zero to ten you belong to your parents
From ten to twenty you belong to your peers
At twenty you belong to yourself until you give the rest of your life to your family.
It always seemed strange to me that the for yourself was so short- but right now it's just right. :)
From zero to ten you belong to your parents
From ten to twenty you belong to your peers
At twenty you belong to yourself until you give the rest of your life to your family.
It always seemed strange to me that the for yourself was so short- but right now it's just right. :)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
NaNoWriMo
NaNoWriMo (aka National Novel Writing Month) is something I have wanted to do for a loooong time. Something about buckling down and writing a damn novel in a month seemed like a fascinating albeit daunting thing. For years I saw friends take part in the joy and agony and creative wordsmithery that was novel writing, but I could never do it myself. There was always some reason or another- I didn't have time, I didn't have an idea, I didn't feel like it... whatever.
This year, however, I have no excuses. I have time, I have a damn good idea that has been rattling around in my head for a while and I actually want to get it out. But how?
When I first signed on I was so jacked! Finally I'd have some work of fiction under my belt! Hadn't I always wanted to try my hand at creative writing in a serious way? Of course! I love fiction!
Then it hit me: I have NO IDEA where to start. All I had were characters and a vague sci-fi idea. I calmed my inner turmoil and thought, okay, so maybe I don't have a plot, but I have characters. That's a start... what next? Setting, okay I can do that... and I did. I wrote out an entire universe in a day. Politics, religions, past wars... it wasn't perfect, but it was a setting. I spent the next day thinking about my characters in my setting and it all began to make sense. A story developed. I wrote a short, 500 or so word scene, just to prove to myself I could. I read it back and hey, it wasn't half bad.
After that I walked away from the typing for a while. Let the ideas simmer (that is, I got sick and forgot to write anything). When I came back to it, I felt... ready. Scared still that I'd have nothing, but I wanted to try. Now I've got two scenes, an outline of the first four chapters, a guide to the universe and seven character bios. It's not much as far as novels go, but it's certainly something- and more than I would have if I'd never tried at all.
So wish me luck, I'm an author now!
This year, however, I have no excuses. I have time, I have a damn good idea that has been rattling around in my head for a while and I actually want to get it out. But how?
When I first signed on I was so jacked! Finally I'd have some work of fiction under my belt! Hadn't I always wanted to try my hand at creative writing in a serious way? Of course! I love fiction!
Then it hit me: I have NO IDEA where to start. All I had were characters and a vague sci-fi idea. I calmed my inner turmoil and thought, okay, so maybe I don't have a plot, but I have characters. That's a start... what next? Setting, okay I can do that... and I did. I wrote out an entire universe in a day. Politics, religions, past wars... it wasn't perfect, but it was a setting. I spent the next day thinking about my characters in my setting and it all began to make sense. A story developed. I wrote a short, 500 or so word scene, just to prove to myself I could. I read it back and hey, it wasn't half bad.
After that I walked away from the typing for a while. Let the ideas simmer (that is, I got sick and forgot to write anything). When I came back to it, I felt... ready. Scared still that I'd have nothing, but I wanted to try. Now I've got two scenes, an outline of the first four chapters, a guide to the universe and seven character bios. It's not much as far as novels go, but it's certainly something- and more than I would have if I'd never tried at all.
So wish me luck, I'm an author now!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Julia had something right
Some people like to run. Some people like to do drugs. Some people like to juggle geese. I do that occasionally, but mostly I like to bake.
Some of it is a family thing- every year when things start to get a little colder and a lot wetter, my mother would bake. She would bake cookies and pies and cakes and tortes and bread and other things I'm certain I don't know the names of right now. Let me say that my mother is a fantastic person and I would love to reach 40 and realize that I'm turning into her so I know that a part of my motivation for baking comes directly from her.
Beyond that is something else, something of the quality of the pioneer (quaint but self sufficient) which lives in me that loves beyond measure making food for people to eat. I feel like the value of good food shared with friends is grossly underestimated. I couldn't tell you exactly why such a thing matters, but it does. Eating and enjoying good food is something we can all do- perhaps not something we agree upon in tastes, but regardless of that, it is a shared human experience. Now, shared human experiences are hard to come by- sure there's love and pain and vice and any other intangible concept, but it's hard to find something tangible that all people must do and can do and will do together. Food is one of those things.
To put it simply:
Food is good. I find making food enjoyable. I like to make good food for my friends.
And in conclusion:
Happy Halloween is best said on an intensely chocolate cake :)
Some of it is a family thing- every year when things start to get a little colder and a lot wetter, my mother would bake. She would bake cookies and pies and cakes and tortes and bread and other things I'm certain I don't know the names of right now. Let me say that my mother is a fantastic person and I would love to reach 40 and realize that I'm turning into her so I know that a part of my motivation for baking comes directly from her.
Beyond that is something else, something of the quality of the pioneer (quaint but self sufficient) which lives in me that loves beyond measure making food for people to eat. I feel like the value of good food shared with friends is grossly underestimated. I couldn't tell you exactly why such a thing matters, but it does. Eating and enjoying good food is something we can all do- perhaps not something we agree upon in tastes, but regardless of that, it is a shared human experience. Now, shared human experiences are hard to come by- sure there's love and pain and vice and any other intangible concept, but it's hard to find something tangible that all people must do and can do and will do together. Food is one of those things.
To put it simply:
Food is good. I find making food enjoyable. I like to make good food for my friends.
And in conclusion:
Happy Halloween is best said on an intensely chocolate cake :)
Summer 2010
And since it has been so long since I have posted something, here's a bit of my journal from the Scotland study abroad I did to fill the gaps :)
-----
I am just constantly in awe of the buildings in the UK. In other European countries as well, but some of the others don't invest the same pride in their old structures or consider them still legitimately useful. Many old buildings elsewhere are there because they're historic, not because they're beautiful and a mark of heritage. Another thing I've noticed is the island nation mentality present here that I've also seen in Singapore. With an island nation there is an obvious limit to the space available and therefore construction has to be very carefully considered. In America, we can put up a shitty structure wherever because we have the space to do so. In Singapore, they build up- and then they build up some more until it becomes unreasonable, then they stop, tear down a shorter/older building and build up again in an effort to be consistently new, clean and modern. Here in Scotland it seems like they are constantly renovating, taking care of what's already here and keeping their past very alive and very present in everyday lives. It's a quality I really admire and that can be really valuable in maintaining a love for one's heritage. In America, we go on field trips to cultivate that sort of thing, but kids here are surrounded by it.
Looking over the wall of the castle to the Firth of Forth, the green and the city below, the wind blowing and a bagpiper playing somewhere I couldn't see. It was Scotland in essence, everything they try to show you in brochures and commercials but you can never really see just by one sense alone. This is essential in understanding Scottish culture as far as pride. It's majestic and tangible and it wants you here, it welcomes. That's when I started welling up and I didn't stop.
The Scottish Memorial got me pretty hard too:
"They have no other grave than the sea"
Looking on the memorial of the fallen, the light hit my glasses and I saw the reflection of my own eyes. I was overwhelmed.
St. Giles, like many other very old churches I've seen was beautiful, magnificent, etc. It gets to be hard after all these churches to see each one and have the same appreciation for the art and care of it- so it has instead started to become something very different. Now, it's becoming personal. It's not about seeing the art anymore, it's a new level of understanding the faith that so many must have felt here. I am not religious and that doesn't bother me, but in places like that it gets to me now. These magnificent buildings were here because some people devote so much time and energy to this belief. They want it to be beautiful, to represent what they feel and be an appropriate place of worship to contain those feelings. That much devotion and love has to be respected, even for something I don't agree with.
I swear the clouds are different here. And the grass. People think I'm crazy when I say that, but it has to be true. I know I'm excited to be in Scotland, but that isn't all it is! The clouds here are fluffy, but spaced out in such a way that the sun hits them creating a marked contrast from the dark parts of the clouds to the sunlit parts of the clouds. Further than that, the clouds are so low that the sun hits the ground in very noticeable, beautiful patterns of light and dark. I can't get over it. Sun happens like that in Oregon, but very rarely can you see it that clearly. IT'S DIFFERENT. And the trees and grass- those are different too. Similar, yes, but NOT the same trees. I have, however, found some recognizable smells.
I am such a sucker for ruins. The unpreserved, nature-dominated rock just seems magical somehow. Like there are echoes of the past in each empty space, in each structure that isn't there anymore. There are structures that are as old elsewhere but it's the attention and modern touch that takes away the mystery present in ruins like the ones at St. Andrews. You can clearly see that there are 2010 people walking around, but they don't leave marks here. This isn't made for them. It's like the place itself says "You can visit, but you don't belong." Everyone who belonged there has passed.
The burial sites had a different vibe. The same feeling of echoes, but quieter, less apparent. The simple unknown nature of the sites makes it seem like the stones want you to be there, to learn their purpose that has been lost for so many, many years. They had people who belonged there, who also passed, but who have been very forgotten. The land sighs for a meaning, a rekindling of its old ways- if only somebody could find them.
I would very much like to take some time to spend in the more nature-oriented Scotland, perhaps hiking or camping. The bit of walking around we did outside was absolutely breathtaking. I'm glad I went by myself for a while because it gave me time to think about what I wanted to think about and see what I needed to see in order to determine this:
If there's magic in the world, it lives here.
-----
Highlights of the shows I saw:
First Love- this is how Beckett should be done. I wish everybody could see that, just to learn about style. He was, as far as I could tell, perfect. He had everything about Beckett down. The detachedness, the humor, the tangents, the specifics like the reaching in his left pocket, the grin. All of it was how it should be done. Whether people like that style is another thing entirely, but I loved it.
Nick Pynn- I just want to bathe in his music. A perfect way to end the night.
Simon Callow- once again, something that was very well done but perhaps didn't suit me entirely. It was wonderful to watch him speak verse that way though. Once again again, how it should be done.
Decky Does a Bronco- OHHH MY GOODDDD. Nothing bad happened here. Nothing. Well, it was a little chilly but that's my fault and I had this show's glow to keep me warm : ) It was delicious and heartbreaking in every way.
Storm Large- I love her! It was a blast to watch her perform and I enjoyed myself immensely. Consider me a fan.
Lidless- not perfect, but damn good premise and executed well. Rhiannon was fantastic and the rest of the cast didn't fall behind. Bashir was only a little lacking some of the time, not enough to be detrimental though. The seats, however, were very much a problem. I want them to die.
Sticks, Stones, Broken Bones- I LOVE YOU. I was skeptical before it started, but as soon as he stood up all was well and continued to be a wonderland of fantastic awesome fun for the next hour. Also, I want EVERYONE to see this.
Following Wendy- there are plenty of shows that aren't great pinnacles of theatre but I adore them anyway and this was the shining example. This show was just my flavor and I am in love with it and I want to live in the basement in which it is performed if only to see it a few more times. It was fascinating as an idea, carried out in a good script and the character work was lovely on almost everybody. It wasn't perfect, there are things to smooth out and expand, but I didn't notice that till I thought about it later.
No Child...- OH MY GOD. This show was fantastic. It was just one actress playing like 20 parts but it may has well have been 20 different people. She had such a great talent- great vocal and movement work. She could practically change her face with a though. Combined with a fantastic story (perhaps a little cheesy, but I can forgive that easily) it was an obvious highlight to the week.
-----
And let me take this opportunity to say that traveling abroad is one of the best things a person can do. You think you know what it means to think globally and understand other countries' perspectives, but actually being there and living in it is another thing entirely. I encourage anyone to jump at the opportunity. It is possible.
-----
I am just constantly in awe of the buildings in the UK. In other European countries as well, but some of the others don't invest the same pride in their old structures or consider them still legitimately useful. Many old buildings elsewhere are there because they're historic, not because they're beautiful and a mark of heritage. Another thing I've noticed is the island nation mentality present here that I've also seen in Singapore. With an island nation there is an obvious limit to the space available and therefore construction has to be very carefully considered. In America, we can put up a shitty structure wherever because we have the space to do so. In Singapore, they build up- and then they build up some more until it becomes unreasonable, then they stop, tear down a shorter/older building and build up again in an effort to be consistently new, clean and modern. Here in Scotland it seems like they are constantly renovating, taking care of what's already here and keeping their past very alive and very present in everyday lives. It's a quality I really admire and that can be really valuable in maintaining a love for one's heritage. In America, we go on field trips to cultivate that sort of thing, but kids here are surrounded by it.
Looking over the wall of the castle to the Firth of Forth, the green and the city below, the wind blowing and a bagpiper playing somewhere I couldn't see. It was Scotland in essence, everything they try to show you in brochures and commercials but you can never really see just by one sense alone. This is essential in understanding Scottish culture as far as pride. It's majestic and tangible and it wants you here, it welcomes. That's when I started welling up and I didn't stop.
The Scottish Memorial got me pretty hard too:
"They have no other grave than the sea"
Looking on the memorial of the fallen, the light hit my glasses and I saw the reflection of my own eyes. I was overwhelmed.
St. Giles, like many other very old churches I've seen was beautiful, magnificent, etc. It gets to be hard after all these churches to see each one and have the same appreciation for the art and care of it- so it has instead started to become something very different. Now, it's becoming personal. It's not about seeing the art anymore, it's a new level of understanding the faith that so many must have felt here. I am not religious and that doesn't bother me, but in places like that it gets to me now. These magnificent buildings were here because some people devote so much time and energy to this belief. They want it to be beautiful, to represent what they feel and be an appropriate place of worship to contain those feelings. That much devotion and love has to be respected, even for something I don't agree with.
I swear the clouds are different here. And the grass. People think I'm crazy when I say that, but it has to be true. I know I'm excited to be in Scotland, but that isn't all it is! The clouds here are fluffy, but spaced out in such a way that the sun hits them creating a marked contrast from the dark parts of the clouds to the sunlit parts of the clouds. Further than that, the clouds are so low that the sun hits the ground in very noticeable, beautiful patterns of light and dark. I can't get over it. Sun happens like that in Oregon, but very rarely can you see it that clearly. IT'S DIFFERENT. And the trees and grass- those are different too. Similar, yes, but NOT the same trees. I have, however, found some recognizable smells.
I am such a sucker for ruins. The unpreserved, nature-dominated rock just seems magical somehow. Like there are echoes of the past in each empty space, in each structure that isn't there anymore. There are structures that are as old elsewhere but it's the attention and modern touch that takes away the mystery present in ruins like the ones at St. Andrews. You can clearly see that there are 2010 people walking around, but they don't leave marks here. This isn't made for them. It's like the place itself says "You can visit, but you don't belong." Everyone who belonged there has passed.
The burial sites had a different vibe. The same feeling of echoes, but quieter, less apparent. The simple unknown nature of the sites makes it seem like the stones want you to be there, to learn their purpose that has been lost for so many, many years. They had people who belonged there, who also passed, but who have been very forgotten. The land sighs for a meaning, a rekindling of its old ways- if only somebody could find them.
I would very much like to take some time to spend in the more nature-oriented Scotland, perhaps hiking or camping. The bit of walking around we did outside was absolutely breathtaking. I'm glad I went by myself for a while because it gave me time to think about what I wanted to think about and see what I needed to see in order to determine this:
If there's magic in the world, it lives here.
-----
Highlights of the shows I saw:
First Love- this is how Beckett should be done. I wish everybody could see that, just to learn about style. He was, as far as I could tell, perfect. He had everything about Beckett down. The detachedness, the humor, the tangents, the specifics like the reaching in his left pocket, the grin. All of it was how it should be done. Whether people like that style is another thing entirely, but I loved it.
Nick Pynn- I just want to bathe in his music. A perfect way to end the night.
Simon Callow- once again, something that was very well done but perhaps didn't suit me entirely. It was wonderful to watch him speak verse that way though. Once again again, how it should be done.
Decky Does a Bronco- OHHH MY GOODDDD. Nothing bad happened here. Nothing. Well, it was a little chilly but that's my fault and I had this show's glow to keep me warm : ) It was delicious and heartbreaking in every way.
Storm Large- I love her! It was a blast to watch her perform and I enjoyed myself immensely. Consider me a fan.
Lidless- not perfect, but damn good premise and executed well. Rhiannon was fantastic and the rest of the cast didn't fall behind. Bashir was only a little lacking some of the time, not enough to be detrimental though. The seats, however, were very much a problem. I want them to die.
Sticks, Stones, Broken Bones- I LOVE YOU. I was skeptical before it started, but as soon as he stood up all was well and continued to be a wonderland of fantastic awesome fun for the next hour. Also, I want EVERYONE to see this.
Following Wendy- there are plenty of shows that aren't great pinnacles of theatre but I adore them anyway and this was the shining example. This show was just my flavor and I am in love with it and I want to live in the basement in which it is performed if only to see it a few more times. It was fascinating as an idea, carried out in a good script and the character work was lovely on almost everybody. It wasn't perfect, there are things to smooth out and expand, but I didn't notice that till I thought about it later.
No Child...- OH MY GOD. This show was fantastic. It was just one actress playing like 20 parts but it may has well have been 20 different people. She had such a great talent- great vocal and movement work. She could practically change her face with a though. Combined with a fantastic story (perhaps a little cheesy, but I can forgive that easily) it was an obvious highlight to the week.
-----
And let me take this opportunity to say that traveling abroad is one of the best things a person can do. You think you know what it means to think globally and understand other countries' perspectives, but actually being there and living in it is another thing entirely. I encourage anyone to jump at the opportunity. It is possible.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
And my mind tmp tmp :: A poem
And my mind is an empty vessel, things going in out in out in out and I am left unoccupied I hear my world going by and it happens. It goes in out and I am left. And in the still of the night, when smallest sounds are hoofbeats I hear my heart beating on off and on off, tmp tmp. tmp tmp. tmp tmp. in and out. tmp tmp. and the snifting sound echoes through the room, the breathing. It rattles through the throat, escaping and plunging into the chest with equal joy. I breathe, tmp tmp, and out, tmp tmp, in and out, tmp tmp, I breathe, tmp tmp. And my self circles its drain, going out with the rest. I am a shell. A shell to be filled, if only for the right life to live in it. Only the right life to take this repetition repetition tmp tmp repetition breathe in tmp tmp, in and out, tmp tmp, rattle out, tmp tmp. The right life to take this and make it a rhythm. The repetition is a rhythm, the rhythm tmp tmp of some life tmp tmp. Let the body be the rhythm breathe in and the soul or the love or the heart tmp tmp be the melody the rattle breathe in melody of strings and metal. Let the body be the rhythm rattle in and the soul be the melody tmp tmp and the mind oh the mind, oh th mind tmp tmp, let the mind be the lyric, the in and out in and out. Let the lyric be pages of pages of gems of a life well lived and a life well spent and a reason for the rhythm and the beauty and the soul. Let the soul be the melody to the body is the rhythm let the mind be the lyric oh be my tmp tmp.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Making invisible lines
I have friends, family, boyfriend, other friends, old friends, ex-boyfriends, distant family, new friends and a dog but every so often I feel lonely. Inexplicably lonely in such a deep, permeating way.
Do you know how your ears ring after a loud concert and every sound seems like it's coming through from miles away? It's like that, but it's not just my ears ringing- it's my whole body, all of me ringing and everyone else is miles away, even if they're right there. A real connection is impossible.
This, sometimes, is countered by a strong, overwhelming feeling of connection. Connection through something that has been said to separate people and undermine meaningful communication- the internet. Some things, like this and this reach through the nothing, through the screen and I feel like I'm with a friend. The kind of friend who is so close, they may as well be another part of yourself. It's through pain, but also through joy that I find these people I don't even know to be just like me. I want to comfort them and laugh with them and take them out to Indian food just to talk. I find a mysterious love for someone even though I don't know their name or anything about them. And we're together for just a short time.
I have a longing to meet them for real. And to share something in return, so we can be friends connected by nothing.
Do you know how your ears ring after a loud concert and every sound seems like it's coming through from miles away? It's like that, but it's not just my ears ringing- it's my whole body, all of me ringing and everyone else is miles away, even if they're right there. A real connection is impossible.
This, sometimes, is countered by a strong, overwhelming feeling of connection. Connection through something that has been said to separate people and undermine meaningful communication- the internet. Some things, like this and this reach through the nothing, through the screen and I feel like I'm with a friend. The kind of friend who is so close, they may as well be another part of yourself. It's through pain, but also through joy that I find these people I don't even know to be just like me. I want to comfort them and laugh with them and take them out to Indian food just to talk. I find a mysterious love for someone even though I don't know their name or anything about them. And we're together for just a short time.
I have a longing to meet them for real. And to share something in return, so we can be friends connected by nothing.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
People are Strange
I have one of those lives people wish they could live. Now, I don't mean to sound vain or egotistical or whatever but it's just kind of true. I have had a constant stream of boyfriends since I was 14, I've traveled the world, went to private school, am an only child, have financially stable and loving parents who are paying for my schooling, I'm reasonably attractive, naturally smart, naturally athletic, and have experienced most of what anyone my age has of life.
It sounds good. Looks good on paper, even. Not that I've had any life-shaking tragedies or even minor tragedies come to think of it. Everything has pretty much worked out. Heck, I've even got a job practically lined up for me out of college and for a theater major that means a hell of a lot. So what's the problem you ask?
Nothing. Nothing is the "problem." If I have learned anything in nearly 20 years it's that there is rarely a problem. Most of the time it's just a stream of things ranging from kinda cool to mildly unpleasant and what's cool or unpleasant is determined by the owner of the life.
The truth is, yes there are people starving or illiterate or diseased or unemployed or all of the above but I can't know their experiences, can't know what bad days are like in their world. So when I have an exceptionally bad day, the most inconsiderate thing someone can do is compare it to anyone else's bad day. It doesn't make me feel better or appreciate what I have, it makes me feel like my sadness or anger is misplaced and how dare I have an unhappy feeling when I am doing so well?
Lives are relative, so even the person you envy for their beauty will look in the mirror and find ugliness. Even the man with the most power will at times feel unimportant. The man with no food will appreciate a sandwich that much more and the mother with no job will savor her first paycheck.
Maybe this is a rambling, weaving lesson but I learn it over and over again. Don't take anyone's feelings for granted. What I want to say here is "try to understand" but that doesn't work either. What's important to one person can make them feel something nobody else can because that experience is uniquely theirs, so how can you possibly "understand?"
So, let me rephrase: try to accept. Accept that whatever is going on in their life is worth the stress. Accept that their struggles might be less than yours, so a small struggle will mean more. Accept that their accomplishments might be less than yours, so minor achievements are significant. Accept that though you can't understand what they're going through: it's valid. Because how else would they live their lives?
Sure, if you were me you would do different things... because you wouldn't be me. We don't hold the same things dear, don't have the same reservations. So I can't fully understand you and you can't fully understand me.
All we can do is have faith that we're all doing what seems like the best idea at the time. Not that we're being the best people or making the best decisions, but everyone has reasons you can't know. Respect their reasons.
It sounds good. Looks good on paper, even. Not that I've had any life-shaking tragedies or even minor tragedies come to think of it. Everything has pretty much worked out. Heck, I've even got a job practically lined up for me out of college and for a theater major that means a hell of a lot. So what's the problem you ask?
Nothing. Nothing is the "problem." If I have learned anything in nearly 20 years it's that there is rarely a problem. Most of the time it's just a stream of things ranging from kinda cool to mildly unpleasant and what's cool or unpleasant is determined by the owner of the life.
The truth is, yes there are people starving or illiterate or diseased or unemployed or all of the above but I can't know their experiences, can't know what bad days are like in their world. So when I have an exceptionally bad day, the most inconsiderate thing someone can do is compare it to anyone else's bad day. It doesn't make me feel better or appreciate what I have, it makes me feel like my sadness or anger is misplaced and how dare I have an unhappy feeling when I am doing so well?
Lives are relative, so even the person you envy for their beauty will look in the mirror and find ugliness. Even the man with the most power will at times feel unimportant. The man with no food will appreciate a sandwich that much more and the mother with no job will savor her first paycheck.
Maybe this is a rambling, weaving lesson but I learn it over and over again. Don't take anyone's feelings for granted. What I want to say here is "try to understand" but that doesn't work either. What's important to one person can make them feel something nobody else can because that experience is uniquely theirs, so how can you possibly "understand?"
So, let me rephrase: try to accept. Accept that whatever is going on in their life is worth the stress. Accept that their struggles might be less than yours, so a small struggle will mean more. Accept that their accomplishments might be less than yours, so minor achievements are significant. Accept that though you can't understand what they're going through: it's valid. Because how else would they live their lives?
Sure, if you were me you would do different things... because you wouldn't be me. We don't hold the same things dear, don't have the same reservations. So I can't fully understand you and you can't fully understand me.
All we can do is have faith that we're all doing what seems like the best idea at the time. Not that we're being the best people or making the best decisions, but everyone has reasons you can't know. Respect their reasons.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Fool on the Hill
Did you ever have that thing, that one something that made you feel immortal? Something that stimulated your imagination and no matter what let you feel like everything was going to be ok- no, that everything was going to be PERFECT from now on. The memory fades if left alone too long but then you can always come back and it always welcomes you with open arms and a smile and holds you and strokes your hair as it says "Listen, just listen to me and you'll see how beautiful things are again." And for the rest of the day, you're on a cloud. Floating, reveling in the joy and bliss of life in the simplest way because it has always been this simple, you just forgot.
Mine is Fool on the Hill by Matt Ruff. I read this book about a year ago. Read it in about one day, soaked it all in like a plant with soil dry as sand and I have loved it ever since.
Last term there was some crappy stuff going on and my book was lent to my ex-boyfriend in what seemed to be a last-ditch effort to connect with me. He kept it the entire term and I just got it back. Now, I'm not a big re-reader of books- not that I'm opposed to the idea, in fact I think I'd enjoy it, I just never have- except for this one. This one I read again. Just open up to a part and go and, no matter what, the words and those people and that unshakeable sense of magic tingling, tangible in the air will bring me right back to the very top of the world.
I just wish I'd had this book last term. I needed some magic then, but better late than never. Welcome back, my friend. I missed you.
Mine is Fool on the Hill by Matt Ruff. I read this book about a year ago. Read it in about one day, soaked it all in like a plant with soil dry as sand and I have loved it ever since.
Last term there was some crappy stuff going on and my book was lent to my ex-boyfriend in what seemed to be a last-ditch effort to connect with me. He kept it the entire term and I just got it back. Now, I'm not a big re-reader of books- not that I'm opposed to the idea, in fact I think I'd enjoy it, I just never have- except for this one. This one I read again. Just open up to a part and go and, no matter what, the words and those people and that unshakeable sense of magic tingling, tangible in the air will bring me right back to the very top of the world.
I just wish I'd had this book last term. I needed some magic then, but better late than never. Welcome back, my friend. I missed you.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Up till 2
So this evening my boyfriend fell asleep while watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer and I figure that since he has to wake up at 5 am to fart at the sun as it rises each morning I can let him sleep. Usually, I am all too happy to fall asleep and dream about being a waitress who is unable to stop spinning as I serve creme puffs with my bare hands (TRUE STORY), but not tonight. Tonight, Evan is snoring like a hive of bees singing Carmina Burana from inside an elephant's trunk as the elephant chokes on pond water. It's got that nice gurgle of mucus bubbles flapping and everything.
At some points his breath wanes to "I think he's dead" only to rise back up again as the bees are buzzing "OOO FORTUNAAAA" loud enough to drown out the fans at the World Cup. He's blaming it on the fact that the Willamette valley currently has the highest pollen count IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD and I'm blaming it on the fact that he played Dungeons and Dragons today and breathing like a fat kid is just a side-effect of eating five bags of chips and six Mountain Dews in four hours.
Follow this with the occasional snorted word (the last one was "sewer poles" I think) and I know I'm not sleeping tonight.
At some points his breath wanes to "I think he's dead" only to rise back up again as the bees are buzzing "OOO FORTUNAAAA" loud enough to drown out the fans at the World Cup. He's blaming it on the fact that the Willamette valley currently has the highest pollen count IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD and I'm blaming it on the fact that he played Dungeons and Dragons today and breathing like a fat kid is just a side-effect of eating five bags of chips and six Mountain Dews in four hours.
Follow this with the occasional snorted word (the last one was "sewer poles" I think) and I know I'm not sleeping tonight.
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