I know it's a little early for most people to be thinking about what happens a year from now, but now that I finally have time to relax after a few study-filled days, I find myself looking towards the elections in 2008. Republican or Democrat? Will we elect a woman president? Will we elect an African-American president? A Vietnam War veteran? A friendly neighborhood ex-mayor?
I've never claimed to know anything substantial in the realm of politics, and I've never wanted to. It's an endless fight of public relations, ratings, and just getting the most votes. Politicians categorize themselves for the ease of the voters - Republican means you'll stay at war and emphasize security, Democrat means you'll work for the people who get overlooked. Why does it have to be one or the other? If I were to ever run for president (not happening) I would run as an independent, just to escape the endless labels and judgments that people place upon a party.
How about the fact that I don't know how to choose one or the other? I don't know how to choose my own security over the aid of the poor, and vice versa. I don't know how to vote against what my parents will vote, since I can take a guess at how they feel and see how my own opinions no longer mirror theirs. Suddenly I'm voting against the two people who taught me so much? Or are they right and I'm wrong, since they're the seasoned voters and know how to see politicians better than I do? Am I wrong to look for the humanity in a presidential candidate, since politicians are pretty much assumed to have as much compassion as a cardboard box?
I find myself looking at the candidates names and backgrounds and imagining seeing them in textbooks years from now. Would Hillary Clinton be the mistake of a first woman president who was no better than any man before her? Would Rudy Giuliani be one of those guys who looked good on the bill but cracked under the pressure of being a world leader? Would Barack Obama turn against the honesty he preaches, succumbing to the Republicans and failing to execute his exit plan from Iraq? Of course we don't know the answer. I can make positive and negative sentences about the presidency of each candidate: "John McCain was ineffective on the world level because of his deep personal connection to international warfare, and thus was criticized to bring his emotions to the business table."
OK I know that it sounds like I'm being negative here, but politics aren't really ever a positive subject, are they? It's all about who looks the best in the newspaper and on TV - it's all about image. I don't think I'll ever really get it for that reason, and I probably will never try that hard to get it. Yet I'm still at the point where whatever I choose could be a huge mistake - at least my vote is one of millions, and we're all in it together...
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Calling It A Morning
Hm... It's beyond midnight and time becomes nondescript. Technically it's morning, but that definition couldn't be further from the truth. There's nothing fresh about this hour, no promise of more daylight to come - these are just the stale hours after night has fallen when time seems to slip away from the clock. 12:30, 1:30, 2:30 - they're just numbers until finally the sun shoots some light over the horizon, finally relieving the tension that precedes it - relieving the worry that it would never come.
Unless, of course, you're writing a paper, in which case you hope morning never comes and that each hour would stretch to be a little longer than the last. I actually am not in that situation at the moment, but I'm tired of staying awake simply because I can sleep in tomorrow (today?). The building on the other side of my window is mostly dark - most of its inhabitants have called it a night and are enjoying their sleep, whether or not they know it (they're asleep - they won't know they're enjoying it until they wake up and want it back). Usually I like the night because it's peaceful - everyone stops what they're doing to take a rest. That doesn't seem to happen to college students, however - we go and go and go so that the paper will be finished in the real morning, the one that comes after a couple hours of sleep that have to act as a substitute for a whole night's rest. Night is usually a great time to listen to music, because finally the ambient noise has died down - instead I still hear the occasional click of the lock on a door, of a voice calling down the hallway, of flip-flops pattering by.
It's just what I've noticed - night is no longer everyone's time to rest. In fact, some people have it all backwards - they sleep during the day and go all night. Why waste the daylight? To me, the daylight is for moving, talking, acting, and working. There's a transition - when night first falls, the activity is electrified as lights are switched on over pages of books, photographs and posters on walls, and sidewalks under the dark sky. Yet it slowly dies down, until you find yourself where you started out, back in bed, getting the sleep you wanted since you woke up the day before.
Now that I officially woke up yesterday, it's time for me to call it a morning and go to sleep today...
Unless, of course, you're writing a paper, in which case you hope morning never comes and that each hour would stretch to be a little longer than the last. I actually am not in that situation at the moment, but I'm tired of staying awake simply because I can sleep in tomorrow (today?). The building on the other side of my window is mostly dark - most of its inhabitants have called it a night and are enjoying their sleep, whether or not they know it (they're asleep - they won't know they're enjoying it until they wake up and want it back). Usually I like the night because it's peaceful - everyone stops what they're doing to take a rest. That doesn't seem to happen to college students, however - we go and go and go so that the paper will be finished in the real morning, the one that comes after a couple hours of sleep that have to act as a substitute for a whole night's rest. Night is usually a great time to listen to music, because finally the ambient noise has died down - instead I still hear the occasional click of the lock on a door, of a voice calling down the hallway, of flip-flops pattering by.
It's just what I've noticed - night is no longer everyone's time to rest. In fact, some people have it all backwards - they sleep during the day and go all night. Why waste the daylight? To me, the daylight is for moving, talking, acting, and working. There's a transition - when night first falls, the activity is electrified as lights are switched on over pages of books, photographs and posters on walls, and sidewalks under the dark sky. Yet it slowly dies down, until you find yourself where you started out, back in bed, getting the sleep you wanted since you woke up the day before.
Now that I officially woke up yesterday, it's time for me to call it a morning and go to sleep today...
Monday, November 26, 2007
Disclaimer
Yes, I realize that on this blog it appears that I'm obsessed with Ben Taylor and that song. Well, you know what? I am. Deal with it.
Nothing I Can Do
This song has been stuck in my head all day, but it's one of those songs that I don't really mind having around for a while...
First morning ever to have seen the sun
Must have run the other way
Until she found that it was only getting earlier that way
When she spun one-hundred eighty degrees
And beheld the sweet light rising through the trees
She fell to her knees and she began to smile, because
She had been in darkness for a long long while
And she said,
There is nothing that I can do
But belong to you
Heaven and Earth and I find myself
Singing this song for you
As luck would have it, it just so happens that there's
Nothing I'd rather do.
And the first lesson ever to have learned its way
Must've been suprised
All I can say is im just glad that I survived,
And the first river to have met the sea,
I believe he must've sighed, said
All this rambling I'm glad to finally find
that after all I haven't just been wasting my time
There is nothing that I can do
But belong to you
Heaven and Earth and I find myself
Singing this song for you
As luck would have it, it just so happens that there's
Nothing I'd rather do.
Just so long as your flying around high
Whatever you find out in the sky
Just dont forget to fall down sometimes
I'm easy to find, look around you
It's a good thing that I finally found you
There is nothing that I can do but belong to you
Heaven and Earth and I find myself
Singing this song for you
As luck would have it, it just so happens that there's
Nothing I'd rather do.
-Ben Taylor
First morning ever to have seen the sun
Must have run the other way
Until she found that it was only getting earlier that way
When she spun one-hundred eighty degrees
And beheld the sweet light rising through the trees
She fell to her knees and she began to smile, because
She had been in darkness for a long long while
And she said,
There is nothing that I can do
But belong to you
Heaven and Earth and I find myself
Singing this song for you
As luck would have it, it just so happens that there's
Nothing I'd rather do.
And the first lesson ever to have learned its way
Must've been suprised
All I can say is im just glad that I survived,
And the first river to have met the sea,
I believe he must've sighed, said
All this rambling I'm glad to finally find
that after all I haven't just been wasting my time
There is nothing that I can do
But belong to you
Heaven and Earth and I find myself
Singing this song for you
As luck would have it, it just so happens that there's
Nothing I'd rather do.
Just so long as your flying around high
Whatever you find out in the sky
Just dont forget to fall down sometimes
I'm easy to find, look around you
It's a good thing that I finally found you
There is nothing that I can do but belong to you
Heaven and Earth and I find myself
Singing this song for you
As luck would have it, it just so happens that there's
Nothing I'd rather do.
-Ben Taylor
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Confessions of a Roommate
My roommate is quite possibly the most unpleasant person on the planet at this very instant. It's quite an experience, really. Coaching a TV will make the football players play better. Yes, indeed. You and your boyfriend are actually going to last. Yes, indeed.
Perhaps I'm here to learn how to deal with this. Actually, that's exactly why. God has a twisted sense of humor and feels that I need to go through this at this point in my life. I need to learn to tolerate people I can't stand. I need to learn from her mistakes, although I think I was never stupid enough to make her mistakes. I need to learn to tune the things out that don't matter to me and not get worked up about things getting in my way. OK, got it.
But seriously, you think she'd have some kind of humility to realize that she sounds like an idiot. Period. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get eye to eye with her without making all these judgements about how stupid she is. I'm not talking academically - she's pretty decent in terms of intelligence. It's that she's stupid in life experience. She's just been raised a completely different way than I have and doesn't see life as a constant learning process, as a world of possibility. So I get it - God's teaching me to value my open mind, and I've never learned anything faster than this.
OK wow now I'm really getting a little scared. It's entertaining, I mean, to watch this meltdown over a football game, but I think she really might break down if they lose. How could something so little matter so much? I understand being a sports fan, I have my own team, but I don't get this level of involvement. At some point don't you realize that it's just a game?
Or, to be philosophical, is life just a game? At what point to we throw in the towel and start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all? Does it really matter what I do now, at this moment, when ten years from now I'll just look back on it? Of course it matters, because what I do now dictates what happens ten years from now. But really? Maybe at some point I will look back on my roommate and understand her, understand how her mind works. It just seems so closed to me. How could her mind be so deprived of imagination? Imagination can be a curse, but it certainly is a much greater gift. In fact, the curses brought on by imagination - such as dissatisfaction and mental claustrophobia, among others - are also gifts in disguise. They move us forward, keep us searching, keep us stretching our imaginations...
I realize that my posts are beginning to have less and less focus as time goes on. That's fine by me, if you can handle it. This is my way to let my mind wander, because I know that I'm keeping it on too short a leash otherwise. This reminds me to breathe, to take a step back, to look for what I missed before.
And this is also my way to make fun of my roommate without anyone really knowing. I won't lie. But seriously, everyone needs to loosen up and laugh sometimes! Really!
Perhaps I'm here to learn how to deal with this. Actually, that's exactly why. God has a twisted sense of humor and feels that I need to go through this at this point in my life. I need to learn to tolerate people I can't stand. I need to learn from her mistakes, although I think I was never stupid enough to make her mistakes. I need to learn to tune the things out that don't matter to me and not get worked up about things getting in my way. OK, got it.
But seriously, you think she'd have some kind of humility to realize that she sounds like an idiot. Period. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get eye to eye with her without making all these judgements about how stupid she is. I'm not talking academically - she's pretty decent in terms of intelligence. It's that she's stupid in life experience. She's just been raised a completely different way than I have and doesn't see life as a constant learning process, as a world of possibility. So I get it - God's teaching me to value my open mind, and I've never learned anything faster than this.
OK wow now I'm really getting a little scared. It's entertaining, I mean, to watch this meltdown over a football game, but I think she really might break down if they lose. How could something so little matter so much? I understand being a sports fan, I have my own team, but I don't get this level of involvement. At some point don't you realize that it's just a game?
Or, to be philosophical, is life just a game? At what point to we throw in the towel and start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all? Does it really matter what I do now, at this moment, when ten years from now I'll just look back on it? Of course it matters, because what I do now dictates what happens ten years from now. But really? Maybe at some point I will look back on my roommate and understand her, understand how her mind works. It just seems so closed to me. How could her mind be so deprived of imagination? Imagination can be a curse, but it certainly is a much greater gift. In fact, the curses brought on by imagination - such as dissatisfaction and mental claustrophobia, among others - are also gifts in disguise. They move us forward, keep us searching, keep us stretching our imaginations...
I realize that my posts are beginning to have less and less focus as time goes on. That's fine by me, if you can handle it. This is my way to let my mind wander, because I know that I'm keeping it on too short a leash otherwise. This reminds me to breathe, to take a step back, to look for what I missed before.
And this is also my way to make fun of my roommate without anyone really knowing. I won't lie. But seriously, everyone needs to loosen up and laugh sometimes! Really!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Home
I'm sitting on the couch at home, next to a slow-flickering fire and the slightly muted words of Frank Sinatra, considering a hot cup of cider and wondering if I should go out tonight or just stay here and listen to my parents talk about nothing. Well, I know that I'll end up out of here, but I secretly would be just as happy to stay here. How many people can talk to their parents the way I can? They're the ones who taught me how to have a conversation. I don't just mean that they taught me to speak: they taught me to sit around a dinner table for two hours after the meal's over, to simply talk and listen. Both my parents are the perfect mixture of adult and kid - there are times when I can really see who they were at 27, when they first met. I suppose that's the best thing about their relationship, the fact that no matter how old they get, they'll still joke around and laugh and make fun of each other the way they did years before they had a family to take care of.
The best part for me is that I'm literally half of each of them. There was a point last night, after all the family had left, where I was lucky enough to sit in the kitchen and talk with them the way the three of us did last year. I was on the kitchen counter, one of my favorite places to sit, while my mom was sitting at the counter and my dad was standing. It became clear to me that there's something unique about the way they know me, as opposed to the way they know my brother and sister. It's likely that I will always be closest to them, because they taught me how to listen the best. It also helps that the three of us - my mom, dad and I - are all the youngest children. There's another bond there that the don't have with my siblings.
I'm not saying that they play favorites. They certainly don't. But at the same time, I think I'm the luckiest one to know them this well.
hahaha ok they're actually kicking me out of the house. literally. glad to know you guys missed me, too :-)
The best part for me is that I'm literally half of each of them. There was a point last night, after all the family had left, where I was lucky enough to sit in the kitchen and talk with them the way the three of us did last year. I was on the kitchen counter, one of my favorite places to sit, while my mom was sitting at the counter and my dad was standing. It became clear to me that there's something unique about the way they know me, as opposed to the way they know my brother and sister. It's likely that I will always be closest to them, because they taught me how to listen the best. It also helps that the three of us - my mom, dad and I - are all the youngest children. There's another bond there that the don't have with my siblings.
I'm not saying that they play favorites. They certainly don't. But at the same time, I think I'm the luckiest one to know them this well.
hahaha ok they're actually kicking me out of the house. literally. glad to know you guys missed me, too :-)
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Awareness
Did you ever get overcome with an awareness of your humanity? Like have you ever sat down and been hit with the realization that THIS is your life? This isn't a dress rehearsal - you will only get this once. You will look back on this one day as your past life, hopefully as something you don't regret. And what's even stranger to think is how you won't even remember all of it - this present moment, insignificant as it is, will probably not make the cut as a file to be saved in your mind. There's absolutely nothign we can do about it, other than embrace it. We have to love these little moments, because it's nearly impossible to go back and re-love something that you overlooked in the past.
Even stranger (and more morbid) - did you ever get hit with the realization that this all ends? Have you ever been faced with the awareness that one day the people we love most will no longer be here? One day we will have to say goodbye. We will feel our hearts ripped through our throats, we will hear the planet split in half, we will feel all the stars shattering down around us. And we will be strong enough to go on, of course, but we will have to experience this. I'm sure there are even awful truths sitting around me now, that I'm not aware of but will hit me over the head in time. It's life, to feel all of this - but it only takes one dose of that pain to change a lifetime.
I don't want to feel it anytime soon - of course not. But I will feel it. I can hope and pray that things will go my way until then, that I'll be lucky enough to find the happiness to make my imminent pain bearable. I'm truly afraid of never feeling that pain at all, because that would mean that I succeeded in detaching myself from the reality of love and life. I certainly don't want that, so I will have to let myself cry eventually - I will have to let go, let my tears fall faster than they ever have.
But I know what I do and do not want to let go of. I'm learning every day what to keep and what to get rid of - it's those things that I want to keep which keep me coming back to life to find more. They give me hope that there's more out there, that one day I will find a happiness that overcomes the pain most likely ensue. I believe in the good - I believe that true pain is only true love.
And why talk about love at a time like this? What I intended to write about was how much my father understands my mind, but I suppose this works too. That's love, there - perhaps his sight of my mind is how he overcomes the pain. But I need to remember that life isn't all about the pain - it's the other stuff which really counts. It's feeling safe when my dad really does know how my mind works, and loves me all the more for it. That's what I'm thankful for - that which makes the pain worth feeling.
Even stranger (and more morbid) - did you ever get hit with the realization that this all ends? Have you ever been faced with the awareness that one day the people we love most will no longer be here? One day we will have to say goodbye. We will feel our hearts ripped through our throats, we will hear the planet split in half, we will feel all the stars shattering down around us. And we will be strong enough to go on, of course, but we will have to experience this. I'm sure there are even awful truths sitting around me now, that I'm not aware of but will hit me over the head in time. It's life, to feel all of this - but it only takes one dose of that pain to change a lifetime.
I don't want to feel it anytime soon - of course not. But I will feel it. I can hope and pray that things will go my way until then, that I'll be lucky enough to find the happiness to make my imminent pain bearable. I'm truly afraid of never feeling that pain at all, because that would mean that I succeeded in detaching myself from the reality of love and life. I certainly don't want that, so I will have to let myself cry eventually - I will have to let go, let my tears fall faster than they ever have.
But I know what I do and do not want to let go of. I'm learning every day what to keep and what to get rid of - it's those things that I want to keep which keep me coming back to life to find more. They give me hope that there's more out there, that one day I will find a happiness that overcomes the pain most likely ensue. I believe in the good - I believe that true pain is only true love.
And why talk about love at a time like this? What I intended to write about was how much my father understands my mind, but I suppose this works too. That's love, there - perhaps his sight of my mind is how he overcomes the pain. But I need to remember that life isn't all about the pain - it's the other stuff which really counts. It's feeling safe when my dad really does know how my mind works, and loves me all the more for it. That's what I'm thankful for - that which makes the pain worth feeling.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Ramble
Ah it's been too long since I could just let my mind go. I've just been thinking of things to blog about for the past... 5? days. All of them were ridiculously insignificant and thus perfect blog topics, and now I can't remember them.
So what's on my mind right now? I'm feeling the James Taylor playing, because I'm in a Fire and Rain kind of mood. "My body's aching and my time is at hand/I won't make it any other way..."
I am in a pretty great need of a break from everything, but then aren't we all. Is there ever a point when we don't need a break? I'm sure there is, but it's at times like this when it seems like such a state of existence isn't possible. Mmm so gloomy! Time to cheer up. But I also already wrote about Thanksgiving about two weeks ago, so I can't go off on that one. Hmm what to be perky about? I have one of those calendars with the spanish saying of the day on it, and saved the one from the day before halloween: "Disfrazate do ogro!" or "Put on the ogre costume!" Now who would really yell that out loud?
How about the fact that I've got work to do and have no motivation? What else is new. Instead I'm being a cheesy girly-girl with my friend Claire online, which feels pretty damn good. I love this girl - I met her two summers ago at work, saw her pretty much every day for two months, and now we talk all the time. She's only a sophomore in high school, so she's young, but she and I are so much alike. Sometimes it just works that way - you just click with someone and that's it. I've actually only seen her once since two years ago, but it doesn't make a difference. How does that happen? Sometimes as hard as I try I just can't get close to people, and other times it just works so easily. I'm sure it has all to do with people's personalities, and some people just naturally get along better than others. But other times its easy just because there's no pressure - make of it what you will, it could be temporary or everasting and it doesn't really matter. They're few and far between, those relationships - they're not necessarily the people who make the biggest difference in your life, just the people who laugh at the right times and somehow know how to cheer you up, even if they don't really know you at all. They're little gifts, just bouts of comfort wrapped into one person who you hardly know and hardly have to know. I don't miss Claire like crazy, but I love talking to her - how does that work?
insert conclusion here
So what's on my mind right now? I'm feeling the James Taylor playing, because I'm in a Fire and Rain kind of mood. "My body's aching and my time is at hand/I won't make it any other way..."
I am in a pretty great need of a break from everything, but then aren't we all. Is there ever a point when we don't need a break? I'm sure there is, but it's at times like this when it seems like such a state of existence isn't possible. Mmm so gloomy! Time to cheer up. But I also already wrote about Thanksgiving about two weeks ago, so I can't go off on that one. Hmm what to be perky about? I have one of those calendars with the spanish saying of the day on it, and saved the one from the day before halloween: "Disfrazate do ogro!" or "Put on the ogre costume!" Now who would really yell that out loud?
How about the fact that I've got work to do and have no motivation? What else is new. Instead I'm being a cheesy girly-girl with my friend Claire online, which feels pretty damn good. I love this girl - I met her two summers ago at work, saw her pretty much every day for two months, and now we talk all the time. She's only a sophomore in high school, so she's young, but she and I are so much alike. Sometimes it just works that way - you just click with someone and that's it. I've actually only seen her once since two years ago, but it doesn't make a difference. How does that happen? Sometimes as hard as I try I just can't get close to people, and other times it just works so easily. I'm sure it has all to do with people's personalities, and some people just naturally get along better than others. But other times its easy just because there's no pressure - make of it what you will, it could be temporary or everasting and it doesn't really matter. They're few and far between, those relationships - they're not necessarily the people who make the biggest difference in your life, just the people who laugh at the right times and somehow know how to cheer you up, even if they don't really know you at all. They're little gifts, just bouts of comfort wrapped into one person who you hardly know and hardly have to know. I don't miss Claire like crazy, but I love talking to her - how does that work?
insert conclusion here
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Feeling Dry
I was just walking outside when I was suddenly overcome by a strange longing to be in a boat. Don't ask me why - boats have always been my dad's thing, not mine. But there was something about the way the mist is tonight - humid, but cool, with a small breeze that doesn't really come from anywhere in particular - that reminded me of boating on the Cape. At one point tonight I just looked up at the sky and was reminded of being out there on the ocean, with no sound but the water making contact with itself and the boat's hull. I think I was longing the quiet that boats usually coincide with. True sailors don't go out there for cocktails or to fish: they go just to be out there.
Not that I would really know, because I've never been loyal enough to the water to be a sailor. But maybe everyone wishes they were a sailor at heart, because I think we all want to be closer to the water than we are. Why shouldnt we? I'm certainly not a fan of being landlocked like this - I guess I don't notice until I'm hit with an urge like this, an urge to be with an unimaginable mass of water. It's humbling, just to be one person in all those waves.
To all the people out there who have their oceans - love them for the rest of us who don't.
Not that I would really know, because I've never been loyal enough to the water to be a sailor. But maybe everyone wishes they were a sailor at heart, because I think we all want to be closer to the water than we are. Why shouldnt we? I'm certainly not a fan of being landlocked like this - I guess I don't notice until I'm hit with an urge like this, an urge to be with an unimaginable mass of water. It's humbling, just to be one person in all those waves.
To all the people out there who have their oceans - love them for the rest of us who don't.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Quick Note
a new music discovery of mine: Ben Taylor (son of personal favorite James Taylor)...
http://youtube.com/watch?v=HAzk6_nWE5E
http://youtube.com/watch?v=HAzk6_nWE5E
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Punch Line...
People can surprise you in the most unexpected ways. I was nicely reminded of this several days ago...
Who would you consider to be a typical Dashboard Confessional fan? If that fan was accurately represented by the majority of the crowd at the concert I just went to, that fan would be a female between the ages of 15 and 20, probably heartbroken in some way or another, and probably from a suburban town where music is spread more by word of mouth than by any other mechanism. At least, this was the face of 85% of the crowd at said concert. What fascinated me, however, was the crowd of guys I was sitting next to: forgive any stereotypes in the following description, but they looked more like they belonged at a 50 cent concert instead of a Dashboard one. Baggy sweatpants, sideways baseball hats that look like they would serve no practical purpose on a baseball diamond, alchohol smuggled in - you get the picture. But they were there, and caught my attention from the moment I sat down when the one nearest me made a point of asking me several times who the opening bands were, if I had heard of them, and damn don't they suck?
The situation only piqued my interest in the unneccessariy long 45 minutes of set-up before Dashboard made its entrance (or should I say before Chris Carrabba made his entrance, since he IS the band). I think that of all the people in the concert hall, these guys were the most upset by the delay (well, the alcohol consumption probably didn't help). Likewise, when Dashboard finally DID come on, no one was more excited than these four guys, who fully participated in the "I LOVE YOU CHRIS!!!" chants. They didn't hesitate to marvel out lout at his talent - my favorite quote of the night had to be "God, He's a SCIENTIST!"
But seriously. Isn't Dashboard supposed to be for teenagers who are searching for ways to express and understand their own desolate love lives? Apparently not - these guys made the concert that much better for me, since it wasn't just the usual crowd enjoying this music. Music, just like anything else, has its stereotypes: Rock is for the people who are too cool for Pop, Hip Hop is for the people who understand rhythym too well to be able to tolerate Pop, Alternative is for the people who are deathly afraid of the title "Pop," and Pop itself is just for people who aren't cool and who are too oblivious to realize it. But here we have the barriers being broken - the people I would least expect to give Dashboard Confessional any time of day have appeared to be some of his most dedicated fans :-).
Just another example of God's sense of humor, I suppose. He never fails to amuse us, if only we take the time to get the punch line...
Who would you consider to be a typical Dashboard Confessional fan? If that fan was accurately represented by the majority of the crowd at the concert I just went to, that fan would be a female between the ages of 15 and 20, probably heartbroken in some way or another, and probably from a suburban town where music is spread more by word of mouth than by any other mechanism. At least, this was the face of 85% of the crowd at said concert. What fascinated me, however, was the crowd of guys I was sitting next to: forgive any stereotypes in the following description, but they looked more like they belonged at a 50 cent concert instead of a Dashboard one. Baggy sweatpants, sideways baseball hats that look like they would serve no practical purpose on a baseball diamond, alchohol smuggled in - you get the picture. But they were there, and caught my attention from the moment I sat down when the one nearest me made a point of asking me several times who the opening bands were, if I had heard of them, and damn don't they suck?
The situation only piqued my interest in the unneccessariy long 45 minutes of set-up before Dashboard made its entrance (or should I say before Chris Carrabba made his entrance, since he IS the band). I think that of all the people in the concert hall, these guys were the most upset by the delay (well, the alcohol consumption probably didn't help). Likewise, when Dashboard finally DID come on, no one was more excited than these four guys, who fully participated in the "I LOVE YOU CHRIS!!!" chants. They didn't hesitate to marvel out lout at his talent - my favorite quote of the night had to be "God, He's a SCIENTIST!"
But seriously. Isn't Dashboard supposed to be for teenagers who are searching for ways to express and understand their own desolate love lives? Apparently not - these guys made the concert that much better for me, since it wasn't just the usual crowd enjoying this music. Music, just like anything else, has its stereotypes: Rock is for the people who are too cool for Pop, Hip Hop is for the people who understand rhythym too well to be able to tolerate Pop, Alternative is for the people who are deathly afraid of the title "Pop," and Pop itself is just for people who aren't cool and who are too oblivious to realize it. But here we have the barriers being broken - the people I would least expect to give Dashboard Confessional any time of day have appeared to be some of his most dedicated fans :-).
Just another example of God's sense of humor, I suppose. He never fails to amuse us, if only we take the time to get the punch line...
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Unsinkable Feeling
I realize that I've been pushed off an edge. I also realize that I'm off that edge, but other than that, haven't really gone anywhere. It's like I'm suspended in the air, not going up or down or left or right, just floating like this. I don't know how far it is down - it could be a two feet or a thousand feet - and I don't seem to care. I should care. I should care a lot, let myself fall to discover how far it really is. But I don't care, and I don't know what to do about it.
Caring makes all the difference, but can you make yourself care? It's just that when I got pushed off that edge, I forgot that I was supposed to obey the laws of gravity like everyone else. And now what do I do, hanging up here without any gravity of my own to make me care?
I think I just don't want it to be that simple - I don't want to go, "Oops!" and Boom be down there with everyone else. I'm sure some ridiculous inner part of me is just completely against any idea of discovery of this unknown, but what's on my mind now is just that I'm floating. What happens if I find gravity and let myself fall down? I'll probably get up and start running and be fine. What happens if I stay floating? The possibility of more. But more than what? More than what I think is below me - perhaps if I float long enough I'll find some ground that looks better to me than this one does. It's all about perception - I'm sure if I changed my perception I'd see the ground differently and be excited to meet it. But what causes one to change perception like that? Belief, unfailing belief that your current perception needs to be changed. Well, this one does. But I don't want to change this perception. This is the way I see it. This is the way I want to see it.
Why do I want to see it like this, if it's giving me this much of a problem? Because I'm too much of a dumbass to get off my high horse and put my feet on solid ground. Right now I don't want solid ground - I want to stay in the saddle and move as fast as I can over the ground (literally and figuratively, I suppose).
I want to see something else, but not a different perception of the same thing. I want to see something else entirely. Is that wrong? I'm telling myself it's wrong. But I don't want it to be wrong, because it's what feels right. Right now, I want to see something else entirely and don't want to feel guilty about that want. But I do...
So I'm floating, aimless and endless, stubborn and guilty, because this is what I want.
Caring makes all the difference, but can you make yourself care? It's just that when I got pushed off that edge, I forgot that I was supposed to obey the laws of gravity like everyone else. And now what do I do, hanging up here without any gravity of my own to make me care?
I think I just don't want it to be that simple - I don't want to go, "Oops!" and Boom be down there with everyone else. I'm sure some ridiculous inner part of me is just completely against any idea of discovery of this unknown, but what's on my mind now is just that I'm floating. What happens if I find gravity and let myself fall down? I'll probably get up and start running and be fine. What happens if I stay floating? The possibility of more. But more than what? More than what I think is below me - perhaps if I float long enough I'll find some ground that looks better to me than this one does. It's all about perception - I'm sure if I changed my perception I'd see the ground differently and be excited to meet it. But what causes one to change perception like that? Belief, unfailing belief that your current perception needs to be changed. Well, this one does. But I don't want to change this perception. This is the way I see it. This is the way I want to see it.
Why do I want to see it like this, if it's giving me this much of a problem? Because I'm too much of a dumbass to get off my high horse and put my feet on solid ground. Right now I don't want solid ground - I want to stay in the saddle and move as fast as I can over the ground (literally and figuratively, I suppose).
I want to see something else, but not a different perception of the same thing. I want to see something else entirely. Is that wrong? I'm telling myself it's wrong. But I don't want it to be wrong, because it's what feels right. Right now, I want to see something else entirely and don't want to feel guilty about that want. But I do...
So I'm floating, aimless and endless, stubborn and guilty, because this is what I want.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Afternoon
Hmm. Friday afternoon. Definitely one of the top moments of the week - the workweek is over, followed by two free days to do the work you didn't do during the rest of the week. But right now, there's a time lapse before the work for Monday needs to begin - everyone is entitled to the right of a lazy Friday afternoon. We're still on a weekday, and thus no weekend work must occur.
So what am I doing on this Friday afternoon? Well, usually I'm watching all the TV I missed during the week, eating some sort of junk food (most likely candy) or wandering around the halls until dinner arrives. This Friday afternoon, I'm waiting for my lab partners to arrive for our Biology date, but since they haven't arrived yet, I'm sitting in the basement listening to someone I don't know play the piano. It's just me and him here, and he's pretty good, so I'm secretly hoping my lab partners won't show for another few minutes.
It's finally getting cold, and I'm reminded of why I love New England. There's something about the way you can see the crispness in the air here, the way sunlight seems to exude no warmth at all but is still beautiful to look at. A lot of people don't see it, though - whenever I hear someone say, "GOD it's COLD!" I just sort of smile and say, "I know, don't you love it??" Usually I get something along the lines of, "NO," "Are you crazy?" or "It's not this cold in Maryland!" - the latter of which comes from one of my favorite people in particular (please note the sarcasm).
Ah, they've arrived...
So what am I doing on this Friday afternoon? Well, usually I'm watching all the TV I missed during the week, eating some sort of junk food (most likely candy) or wandering around the halls until dinner arrives. This Friday afternoon, I'm waiting for my lab partners to arrive for our Biology date, but since they haven't arrived yet, I'm sitting in the basement listening to someone I don't know play the piano. It's just me and him here, and he's pretty good, so I'm secretly hoping my lab partners won't show for another few minutes.
It's finally getting cold, and I'm reminded of why I love New England. There's something about the way you can see the crispness in the air here, the way sunlight seems to exude no warmth at all but is still beautiful to look at. A lot of people don't see it, though - whenever I hear someone say, "GOD it's COLD!" I just sort of smile and say, "I know, don't you love it??" Usually I get something along the lines of, "NO," "Are you crazy?" or "It's not this cold in Maryland!" - the latter of which comes from one of my favorite people in particular (please note the sarcasm).
Ah, they've arrived...
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Two Weeks and a Day...
Eeek a little sore of late, but it always feels just as good as it does bad. Thanksgiving is in two weeks and I couldn't be more excited - sleeping in my own bed, being at home in general, eating the best food in the world and a TON of it... I'm salivating just sitting here typing about it.
On a diferent track - yesterday I thought about how irritating an open mind can be. It means you can't give up on anything - you can accept it, but you can't give up on it. Of course, this means you have to learn to walk away yourself and take responsibility for choosing your own battles. Does that make sense? With an open mind, anything can be explored virtually forever, because there's always a new way of seeing it. The curse here is that even if you are capable of doing so, we sometimes just plain don't have the time for it. I suppose the best way to go through life is to understand as much as you can, regardless of time, but there's always an agenda.
And today I was thinking about childhood. You know John Mayer's song '83? It's about how he wishes his life was more like it was when he was six years old, with superman capes and lunchboxes. Do I wish my life was more like when I was six? I was surprise to easily answer no. If I was only six now, even though I'd be having the time of my life, I wouldn't know it. I wouldn't know as much as I do now, and there would be all those years ahead of me of learning that I don't really feel like reliving. Middle school? No, thanks.
That's kind of a big deal then, the fact that I would rather live at this age than in my childhood oblivion, isn't it? Even if I know I'm not really as happy now as I was then, I'm so much more aware of it. I see so much more going on every day than I ever did at six years old, and it would make it impossible to go back. Even though life was great then - carefree, irresponsible - I never knew how or why. Now that I'm faced with the challenge of giving all that up, I know how to appreciate it.
So admittedly, I'm going home for Thanksgiving to secretly pretend I'm six years old. I'm probably going to wake up around 9 to smell the turkey already in the oven. I'll wear what I slept in until about 3 in the afternoon, watching the ridiculous parade on TV and stealing bits and pieces of all the food that's "FOR LATER!" when my mom's not looking. And I'll be able to sit back after dinner, eat the rest of the bread that everyone left for me, and never ever want to get up again.
But at the same time, it will be better than all the last. My parents won't hold back in the stories they tell us. My siblings and I won't hold back in the stories we tell them. And best of all, we'll all be more thankful than ever just to be there :-)
On a diferent track - yesterday I thought about how irritating an open mind can be. It means you can't give up on anything - you can accept it, but you can't give up on it. Of course, this means you have to learn to walk away yourself and take responsibility for choosing your own battles. Does that make sense? With an open mind, anything can be explored virtually forever, because there's always a new way of seeing it. The curse here is that even if you are capable of doing so, we sometimes just plain don't have the time for it. I suppose the best way to go through life is to understand as much as you can, regardless of time, but there's always an agenda.
And today I was thinking about childhood. You know John Mayer's song '83? It's about how he wishes his life was more like it was when he was six years old, with superman capes and lunchboxes. Do I wish my life was more like when I was six? I was surprise to easily answer no. If I was only six now, even though I'd be having the time of my life, I wouldn't know it. I wouldn't know as much as I do now, and there would be all those years ahead of me of learning that I don't really feel like reliving. Middle school? No, thanks.
That's kind of a big deal then, the fact that I would rather live at this age than in my childhood oblivion, isn't it? Even if I know I'm not really as happy now as I was then, I'm so much more aware of it. I see so much more going on every day than I ever did at six years old, and it would make it impossible to go back. Even though life was great then - carefree, irresponsible - I never knew how or why. Now that I'm faced with the challenge of giving all that up, I know how to appreciate it.
So admittedly, I'm going home for Thanksgiving to secretly pretend I'm six years old. I'm probably going to wake up around 9 to smell the turkey already in the oven. I'll wear what I slept in until about 3 in the afternoon, watching the ridiculous parade on TV and stealing bits and pieces of all the food that's "FOR LATER!" when my mom's not looking. And I'll be able to sit back after dinner, eat the rest of the bread that everyone left for me, and never ever want to get up again.
But at the same time, it will be better than all the last. My parents won't hold back in the stories they tell us. My siblings and I won't hold back in the stories we tell them. And best of all, we'll all be more thankful than ever just to be there :-)
Monday, November 5, 2007
25 Things To Do
To Do:
1. Sing more
2. Smile for no good reason more
3. Tune out my roommate more
4. Dance more
5. Listen to Pandora more
6. Check my mail less
7. Spend more time with music in general
8. Go to Chile
9. Calm down and stop getting overwhelmed by nothing
10. Figure out why it's overwhelming me in the first place and deal with it (eventually)
11. Read the headlines more
12. Stop being so goddamn negative
13. Spend more time on YouTube (tons of music - why did I never realize it before???)
14. Daydream about Thanksgiving and the month of December (check!)
15. Finish my work for the next two weeks so that I don't have to work for two weeks (maybe)
16. Drink more water
17. Regain an appetite, it's a good thing
18. Spend more time in the shower. Time under hot water is always time well spent.
19. Research enzyme activity, the chicken pox, and incest (don't ask)
20. Drive the new car!
21. Stop thinking about the number 21 and think of another To Do
22. Get back to work
23. Listen to Mr. Alligator on my dashboard: "Your wrinkled synopsis wouldn't have been very thorny."
24. Remember how good these three weekends are going to be and relax
25. Breathe more. I'm developing a habit of forgetting to
1. Sing more
2. Smile for no good reason more
3. Tune out my roommate more
4. Dance more
5. Listen to Pandora more
6. Check my mail less
7. Spend more time with music in general
8. Go to Chile
9. Calm down and stop getting overwhelmed by nothing
10. Figure out why it's overwhelming me in the first place and deal with it (eventually)
11. Read the headlines more
12. Stop being so goddamn negative
13. Spend more time on YouTube (tons of music - why did I never realize it before???)
14. Daydream about Thanksgiving and the month of December (check!)
15. Finish my work for the next two weeks so that I don't have to work for two weeks (maybe)
16. Drink more water
17. Regain an appetite, it's a good thing
18. Spend more time in the shower. Time under hot water is always time well spent.
19. Research enzyme activity, the chicken pox, and incest (don't ask)
20. Drive the new car!
21. Stop thinking about the number 21 and think of another To Do
22. Get back to work
23. Listen to Mr. Alligator on my dashboard: "Your wrinkled synopsis wouldn't have been very thorny."
24. Remember how good these three weekends are going to be and relax
25. Breathe more. I'm developing a habit of forgetting to
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Moving
I spent this morning traveling, which was exactly what I needed. In fact, I wish I was still on a train, following the rails to the next station, or the one after that, or the one after that...
It's just that sometimes I need to move, especially when I'm overcome with a feeling of immobility. I was so relieved to see roads and houses and highways this morning - relieved to see that the world has kept on going the same way it used to. I wish I was a part of all that still - the real world, I mean. I miss everything about mobility - the left lane, double yellow lines, no lines at all, stop signs (...and not stopping), bad drivers, road rage, speeding, the way the traffic lights all change to flashing yellow at 10 PM in my hometown - everything.
It felt so good to be anonymously traveling across the state, paying $7.75 for an hour and half of pure inner peace. I'm truly myself when I travel - no relationships, no obligations, no appointments - just me, moving. I don't understand how some people don't like it. It gives me a momentary belief that I'm seeing a little more of the world that I hadn't seen before, which is ridiculously liberating in the most basic way. It's also why I love cities - every moment is different than the last, with new people and new situations and endless blocks of new experiences waiting...
Can you feel that I've been feeling a little confined lately? It's probably a good thing I don't have a car, because I would have used way to much gas simply driving around to nowhere and back just to feel the movement. You probably could spend an entire day wandering the subway system of New York City alone, just getting off here and getting on there and seeing where you end up. On the other hand, it probably would take only an hour or so to travel the whole streetcar system of San Francisco, but probably would recieve the same effect.
When does this need for movement subside? I know it's something more common in younger people than older, because younger people are less prepared to settle down in one place, but what will ever make me stop moving? Do I need to meet someone who will keep me in place, who won't let me go and pull me back but who will hold me tight? God, I almost hope that never happens. Since when did I become one to be wary of commitment? I suppose I've been this way since I lost something to commit to...
It's just that sometimes I need to move, especially when I'm overcome with a feeling of immobility. I was so relieved to see roads and houses and highways this morning - relieved to see that the world has kept on going the same way it used to. I wish I was a part of all that still - the real world, I mean. I miss everything about mobility - the left lane, double yellow lines, no lines at all, stop signs (...and not stopping), bad drivers, road rage, speeding, the way the traffic lights all change to flashing yellow at 10 PM in my hometown - everything.
It felt so good to be anonymously traveling across the state, paying $7.75 for an hour and half of pure inner peace. I'm truly myself when I travel - no relationships, no obligations, no appointments - just me, moving. I don't understand how some people don't like it. It gives me a momentary belief that I'm seeing a little more of the world that I hadn't seen before, which is ridiculously liberating in the most basic way. It's also why I love cities - every moment is different than the last, with new people and new situations and endless blocks of new experiences waiting...
Can you feel that I've been feeling a little confined lately? It's probably a good thing I don't have a car, because I would have used way to much gas simply driving around to nowhere and back just to feel the movement. You probably could spend an entire day wandering the subway system of New York City alone, just getting off here and getting on there and seeing where you end up. On the other hand, it probably would take only an hour or so to travel the whole streetcar system of San Francisco, but probably would recieve the same effect.
When does this need for movement subside? I know it's something more common in younger people than older, because younger people are less prepared to settle down in one place, but what will ever make me stop moving? Do I need to meet someone who will keep me in place, who won't let me go and pull me back but who will hold me tight? God, I almost hope that never happens. Since when did I become one to be wary of commitment? I suppose I've been this way since I lost something to commit to...
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Good Morning, How May I Help You?
I think perhaps breakfast is my new favorite meal. Maybe this is just a temporary affinity to the first meal of the day, since I had a particularly good one this morning. I never used to like it, because it meant ten minutes of cereal and water before starting yet another day of work. But today's Saturday, and while I'm still up to my elbows in work (procrastinating right now, in fact), I was overcome with an unusual and atypical excitement to get started with my day. Granted, I had breakfast at noon just after releasing an extreme amount of endorphins at the gym, but a side of cheerfulness with my waffle was especially nice.
It's just that everything begins again at breakfast. You get your first helping of fuel for the day, hopefully prepared by enough sleep to take full advantage of that fuel. Have you ever noticed how subtly social breakfast is? It more often is eaten in a car, on a train or in a plastic booth at Dunkin' Donuts than at a proper table, and is often accompanied by a newspaper rather than a friend or business associate, but everyone does it. There's something invigorating to me about being part of the world's morning hunger craving - standing in line to order a bagel kind of puts you in your place, in a way. Yes, you're tired, yes, you're hungry, yes, you can't think of anything you'd rather do than get back into bed, but yes, everyone else feels the same way. Good Morning, how may I help you?
And then there's the best breakfast of all, which I always take for granted - a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter. What's so special about eating carbohydrates hopped up on sugar and preservatives, racing through the bowl to insure that the last few mouthfuls won't be soggy from sitting in the milk for too long? Absolutely nothing, except for the fact that everyone else does it too. We're lucky to hate breakfast for being so early; it means that we have so much to do that day that an extra hour of sleep just didn't fit into the schedule.
Or maybe you just skip breakfast entirely, like I do on my Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. I gotta stop doing that.
Hopefully I'll see you at breakfast more often :-)
It's just that everything begins again at breakfast. You get your first helping of fuel for the day, hopefully prepared by enough sleep to take full advantage of that fuel. Have you ever noticed how subtly social breakfast is? It more often is eaten in a car, on a train or in a plastic booth at Dunkin' Donuts than at a proper table, and is often accompanied by a newspaper rather than a friend or business associate, but everyone does it. There's something invigorating to me about being part of the world's morning hunger craving - standing in line to order a bagel kind of puts you in your place, in a way. Yes, you're tired, yes, you're hungry, yes, you can't think of anything you'd rather do than get back into bed, but yes, everyone else feels the same way. Good Morning, how may I help you?
And then there's the best breakfast of all, which I always take for granted - a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter. What's so special about eating carbohydrates hopped up on sugar and preservatives, racing through the bowl to insure that the last few mouthfuls won't be soggy from sitting in the milk for too long? Absolutely nothing, except for the fact that everyone else does it too. We're lucky to hate breakfast for being so early; it means that we have so much to do that day that an extra hour of sleep just didn't fit into the schedule.
Or maybe you just skip breakfast entirely, like I do on my Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. I gotta stop doing that.
Hopefully I'll see you at breakfast more often :-)
Later That Night
Up until lately, I've considered myself a strong person.
What is a strong person, you ask? Or perhaps you wouldn't ask that, you would kind of assume to know what those two words mean when placed next to one another like so. A strong person is one who endures through trials and tribulations. A stong person is one who continues to make their way towards the light at the end of the tunnel, despite whatever darkness they have to walk through to get there. A strong person has an infallible faith that everything will indeed be alright.
I suppose I fit the above descriptions, but I have a new problem with them. Who's to say that I haven't just been faking this strength, that my continual drive towards the light is really just a continual escape route from the darkness? I think the truly strong thing would be to let myself get beaten down, to let myself get changed by the things that hit me. A strong person should be an emotional mess - hit over and over and not afraid to take the beating. A strong person calls for the beating, because they know that the truest strength is having the strength to learn from their mistakes.
And I don't know if I've learned from my mistakes. I don't know if I really meant to endure after all, but managed to do it because I knew nothing else. I didn't know enough to get angry when I was wronged. I didn't know enough to let go after the first two times I got pushed away. Why do I regret this now? Because I'm being told that I'm strong enough to get through anything, when I really have no idea if that's true or not. Anyone can get through anything, as long as they keep breathing and keep eating. But the strongest people will see the punch coming and not flinch - they'll let themselves get hit instead of pretending it's not happening.
What scares me is that I can't see the punch. A week, a month, a year from now, I'll look back and realize that I'm bruised, but was either too stupid or too strong to dodge the fist. I fear that I don't flinch because of my ignorance, not because of my strength. I fear I don't flinch because I can't see the punch until I've already covered up the resulting bruises - maybe I cover them up to pretend they never happened. But a truly strong person would face the punch eye to eye and take it, all of it, all of the hurt and the pain and the wonder of learned knowledge.
I suppose one day I'll be able to stand in the ring and see the fight that's coming at me. Hopefully by then I'll have figured out whether or not to fight back.
What is a strong person, you ask? Or perhaps you wouldn't ask that, you would kind of assume to know what those two words mean when placed next to one another like so. A strong person is one who endures through trials and tribulations. A stong person is one who continues to make their way towards the light at the end of the tunnel, despite whatever darkness they have to walk through to get there. A strong person has an infallible faith that everything will indeed be alright.
I suppose I fit the above descriptions, but I have a new problem with them. Who's to say that I haven't just been faking this strength, that my continual drive towards the light is really just a continual escape route from the darkness? I think the truly strong thing would be to let myself get beaten down, to let myself get changed by the things that hit me. A strong person should be an emotional mess - hit over and over and not afraid to take the beating. A strong person calls for the beating, because they know that the truest strength is having the strength to learn from their mistakes.
And I don't know if I've learned from my mistakes. I don't know if I really meant to endure after all, but managed to do it because I knew nothing else. I didn't know enough to get angry when I was wronged. I didn't know enough to let go after the first two times I got pushed away. Why do I regret this now? Because I'm being told that I'm strong enough to get through anything, when I really have no idea if that's true or not. Anyone can get through anything, as long as they keep breathing and keep eating. But the strongest people will see the punch coming and not flinch - they'll let themselves get hit instead of pretending it's not happening.
What scares me is that I can't see the punch. A week, a month, a year from now, I'll look back and realize that I'm bruised, but was either too stupid or too strong to dodge the fist. I fear that I don't flinch because of my ignorance, not because of my strength. I fear I don't flinch because I can't see the punch until I've already covered up the resulting bruises - maybe I cover them up to pretend they never happened. But a truly strong person would face the punch eye to eye and take it, all of it, all of the hurt and the pain and the wonder of learned knowledge.
I suppose one day I'll be able to stand in the ring and see the fight that's coming at me. Hopefully by then I'll have figured out whether or not to fight back.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Beginning
OK, so I've never bought into this blogging thing, but I think I need to try it before I make any final judgements. If nothing else, I currently have a strong need to believe that my mind can be changed. There's something about life that makes me hesitate before making anything final, since change is both inevitable and unpredictable.
Essentially, I simply need a place to express the thoughts that I can't stop fighting. No, probably not too much about my personal life, although ultimately everything that comes out of anyone's mouth is based in their personal life. I've learned thus far in my life that my mind is too complicated to shut off, to sit still for one moment, to BREATHE. It's always moving, often in every direction but the one I want it to. My lack of a one-track mind is hindering me at the present moment in my present state, and I simply need a place to let go of it.
So here it is, a blog. Are blogs just places for people to vent to perfect strangers about their personal lives, too afraid or embarrased to say it out loud? Possibly. But I've finally come to realize there's not too much wrong with that, because sometimes you just need to be the voice and not the ears. I get it. Or, at least, I think I do. I suppose the beauty is that I'll find out.
Essentially, I simply need a place to express the thoughts that I can't stop fighting. No, probably not too much about my personal life, although ultimately everything that comes out of anyone's mouth is based in their personal life. I've learned thus far in my life that my mind is too complicated to shut off, to sit still for one moment, to BREATHE. It's always moving, often in every direction but the one I want it to. My lack of a one-track mind is hindering me at the present moment in my present state, and I simply need a place to let go of it.
So here it is, a blog. Are blogs just places for people to vent to perfect strangers about their personal lives, too afraid or embarrased to say it out loud? Possibly. But I've finally come to realize there's not too much wrong with that, because sometimes you just need to be the voice and not the ears. I get it. Or, at least, I think I do. I suppose the beauty is that I'll find out.
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