"I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws will be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude, nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them."
-H.D. Thoreau, Walden
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
dry
so now i'm frustrated. I've got about 5 seconds before i have to leave before my next class, and i'm suddenly aware that it doesnt mean a whole lot to me. I'm surrounded by things that don't matter so much, because the things that do matter to me aren't here. I can distract myself all i want, with working and studying, but when i come up for air im still breathing in deoxygenated air or something. it's like i just want to roll my eyes when i accomplish something, like oh great, now what?
it's absolutely awful and i dont want to feel this way. but I can't help it - i can't help that nothing seems to matter right now. i could just go to sleep and wake up at some other time, but the problem is that i'd wake up and still be nowhere important to me. so i might as well stay awake longer and try to figure out what's missing, until i realize that what's missing is something i haven't found yet, or something that maybe i've lost and can't get back. or maybe its been right here all along, which is almost worse because i still don't see it after all this.
what i really want right now is to go jump in the ocean and stay underwater and feel the way the waves push me around. when i was a little kid i always used to get stuck under the waves, so that they'd keep crashing on me and throw me into the rocks at the water line. I used to hate it, but now i miss it. i feel like getting beaten up, just so that i can stop waiting or wishing or whatever i'm doing. I guess it's another form of that emptiness i tend to get lately - only this time im going through the motions without really feeling it. It's like im on the boat when i really just want to be in the water...
time to go to class.
it's absolutely awful and i dont want to feel this way. but I can't help it - i can't help that nothing seems to matter right now. i could just go to sleep and wake up at some other time, but the problem is that i'd wake up and still be nowhere important to me. so i might as well stay awake longer and try to figure out what's missing, until i realize that what's missing is something i haven't found yet, or something that maybe i've lost and can't get back. or maybe its been right here all along, which is almost worse because i still don't see it after all this.
what i really want right now is to go jump in the ocean and stay underwater and feel the way the waves push me around. when i was a little kid i always used to get stuck under the waves, so that they'd keep crashing on me and throw me into the rocks at the water line. I used to hate it, but now i miss it. i feel like getting beaten up, just so that i can stop waiting or wishing or whatever i'm doing. I guess it's another form of that emptiness i tend to get lately - only this time im going through the motions without really feeling it. It's like im on the boat when i really just want to be in the water...
time to go to class.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
So This Is Why They Taught Me To Read
aaand... time to get out of the box.
I realized today how much I love learning. I wholeheartedly embrace my nerdiness - I spent about 8 hours reading my sociology textbook today, and didn't mind it at all. Well, I was slightly crestfallen upon realizing my glacial reading pace, but overall surprised that I could pull off such a feat and enjoy it at the same time. The textbook is a collection of articles, organized into broad categories such as "Family" and "Religion." That probably contributed to my interest - the topic and narrator varied every 5 pages.
And what had I done before all that learning about different cultures, social tendencies and religious beliefs? I learned karate for an hour (we started new self-defense mechanisms - watch out...). It was a pretty great day for me overall, because I've come to see learning as a critical tool for getting out of the box. There are other ways I prefer to learn - namely, from other people - but I felt such a sense of accomplishment each time I finished an article and moved on to another. It reminded me of the way I used to read when I was younger - I used to dive into books for a few days and finish them before my parents realized I had started the first chapter.
I haven't done that in so long. Other things inevitably get in the way - the thrill of reading loses its appeal when there are other priorities and distractions. I could be grumbling about the overwhelming amount of reading my sociology professor assigned, since I'm now even further behind in my work, having expected to get more assignments than just one done today. Secretly, I'm thanking him, because I finally had an excuse to get lost in my reading for an outrageous amount of time. I half expected to look up at one point and find myself on the couch at home, listening to my mom make dinner in the kitchen.
So I still have a ton of work to do tomorrow and even less time. I don't regret it at all though - I think I'll wake up early and keep on learning.
I realized today how much I love learning. I wholeheartedly embrace my nerdiness - I spent about 8 hours reading my sociology textbook today, and didn't mind it at all. Well, I was slightly crestfallen upon realizing my glacial reading pace, but overall surprised that I could pull off such a feat and enjoy it at the same time. The textbook is a collection of articles, organized into broad categories such as "Family" and "Religion." That probably contributed to my interest - the topic and narrator varied every 5 pages.
And what had I done before all that learning about different cultures, social tendencies and religious beliefs? I learned karate for an hour (we started new self-defense mechanisms - watch out...). It was a pretty great day for me overall, because I've come to see learning as a critical tool for getting out of the box. There are other ways I prefer to learn - namely, from other people - but I felt such a sense of accomplishment each time I finished an article and moved on to another. It reminded me of the way I used to read when I was younger - I used to dive into books for a few days and finish them before my parents realized I had started the first chapter.
I haven't done that in so long. Other things inevitably get in the way - the thrill of reading loses its appeal when there are other priorities and distractions. I could be grumbling about the overwhelming amount of reading my sociology professor assigned, since I'm now even further behind in my work, having expected to get more assignments than just one done today. Secretly, I'm thanking him, because I finally had an excuse to get lost in my reading for an outrageous amount of time. I half expected to look up at one point and find myself on the couch at home, listening to my mom make dinner in the kitchen.
So I still have a ton of work to do tomorrow and even less time. I don't regret it at all though - I think I'll wake up early and keep on learning.
Friday, January 25, 2008
First Name, Middle Name, Last (Family) Name, Suffix, Prefix...
For someone who's tired of being in a box, I sure like filling them out. With checkboxes, there's something thereapeutic about the way everything has its place. Every letter is perfectly spaced, you can only check one box, and there's that nice long line at the end to throw in your best signature (maybe my favorite part).
So yes I'm not actually spending time writing letters in boxes - I'm filling out applications. Well, just THE application tonight, the one that matters even more than all the others. Maybe I like this box part because it's easy - once I hit form 3 it's time to fit my whole existence into three short essays. I know that form 3 is the both the easiest and hardest for that reason - I know my existence but I have no idea how to express it so succinctly.
Form 3 is for another day - I got some free therapy from forms 1 and 1A , kind of as a warm-up. Name, Date of Birth, Social Security Number, Father's name, profession, employer... it doesn't really get old. I could fill out those boxes a thousand times, using that neat little printing of all capital letters. It's the only form of writing that works for those checkboxes, and I've done it enough to have developed a handwriting out of it. You know what I mean? You can write a certain way but not really have a handwriting of it, but if you do it enough you can do it with your eyes closed. Kind of like the way I always used to change my a's in middle school when I got bored - if I wrote them differently for a week or so, suddenly I'd have new a's in my handwriting. Then maybe a month later I'd get bored of that and switch them back again. I did that with my 8's too, but I always came back to what I'd first been taught. And I could definitely overanalyze that last sentence, but I'm not really in the mood.
Point is, I like the way the checkboxes are so clean and definite. I am in no way saying that I wish my life was full of checkboxes (do you know me?), but it's just nice to have only one right answer sometimes. The only bad thing about them is that they're so quick to fill out and suddenly you're on to essays. They're for tomorrow, or another day when I feel the need for anything BUT checkboxes...
So yes I'm not actually spending time writing letters in boxes - I'm filling out applications. Well, just THE application tonight, the one that matters even more than all the others. Maybe I like this box part because it's easy - once I hit form 3 it's time to fit my whole existence into three short essays. I know that form 3 is the both the easiest and hardest for that reason - I know my existence but I have no idea how to express it so succinctly.
Form 3 is for another day - I got some free therapy from forms 1 and 1A , kind of as a warm-up. Name, Date of Birth, Social Security Number, Father's name, profession, employer... it doesn't really get old. I could fill out those boxes a thousand times, using that neat little printing of all capital letters. It's the only form of writing that works for those checkboxes, and I've done it enough to have developed a handwriting out of it. You know what I mean? You can write a certain way but not really have a handwriting of it, but if you do it enough you can do it with your eyes closed. Kind of like the way I always used to change my a's in middle school when I got bored - if I wrote them differently for a week or so, suddenly I'd have new a's in my handwriting. Then maybe a month later I'd get bored of that and switch them back again. I did that with my 8's too, but I always came back to what I'd first been taught. And I could definitely overanalyze that last sentence, but I'm not really in the mood.
Point is, I like the way the checkboxes are so clean and definite. I am in no way saying that I wish my life was full of checkboxes (do you know me?), but it's just nice to have only one right answer sometimes. The only bad thing about them is that they're so quick to fill out and suddenly you're on to essays. They're for tomorrow, or another day when I feel the need for anything BUT checkboxes...
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Where I Lived, and What I Lived For
For me, the worst part about reading a good book late at night is that I have to go to sleep once I close it. I'm working on Thoreau's Walden, which never really appealed to me before but now has my mind going all over again.
I'm interested in his way of life at Walden Pond, and how he found all he needed in such isolation from other human beings. He is fascinated with what life has to teach him in its own way, through simplicity and the continnuum of days through seasons. Why can't I believe that he found everything he needed by living on the edge of a pond? I do understand the clarity he found through living so primitively and purely, and how he came to terms with his existence in this world. I agree that we become distracted with unneccessary things in our lives - that surely is undeniable.
But Thoreau was missing more in the woods, I think - perhaps it's my adventurous side talking, but there's more to nature itself even than the shore of Walden Pond. His intent was to live as naturally as possible, as close to his environment as possible, but humans are naturally social creatures. What about the human need to be with one another? He writes about how people read unneccessary news in the paper and send unneccessary letters in the mail - it's not about what you have to say, but just that you need to say it. I think that most people don't seem to really care about the stories in the newspaper - all they want to know is that there's a world out there full of people who are living their own lives. That's often all I want to know when I look at the paper: "What's going on in the world for everyone else today?"
Why does that matter? I suppose Thoreau would argue that it doesn't matter, because our existence is about being present in your own life. But I think there's more to my life than finding the sanctuary of a balanced life, as unbelievable as it seems - I want to know who and what I can be instead of what I already am. Again, Thoreau would probably tell me to wake up and live in there moment, because what I am is all I am. I don't think I'm ready to believe that yet. Maybe at some point I will, but I think I need to find a version of myself that I'm happy to be in the present moment.
I think Thoreau is completely right, which is what's confusing. I see no flaw in his writings, which makes it harder to disagree with them. Thoreau may be right, but there may be more than one version of the life he's trying to lead. Perhaps what he did was easy - go live in the woods for two years and self-definition's there somewhere. The hard part would be learning to live that way in society, to live in the middle of all the things that don't matter and to still see the morning fog and hear the voices we would otherwise mistake for bird calls.
Now that I got the real thinking out, I can go write a short paragraph and one question to prove that I read the book. Ironic...
I'm interested in his way of life at Walden Pond, and how he found all he needed in such isolation from other human beings. He is fascinated with what life has to teach him in its own way, through simplicity and the continnuum of days through seasons. Why can't I believe that he found everything he needed by living on the edge of a pond? I do understand the clarity he found through living so primitively and purely, and how he came to terms with his existence in this world. I agree that we become distracted with unneccessary things in our lives - that surely is undeniable.
But Thoreau was missing more in the woods, I think - perhaps it's my adventurous side talking, but there's more to nature itself even than the shore of Walden Pond. His intent was to live as naturally as possible, as close to his environment as possible, but humans are naturally social creatures. What about the human need to be with one another? He writes about how people read unneccessary news in the paper and send unneccessary letters in the mail - it's not about what you have to say, but just that you need to say it. I think that most people don't seem to really care about the stories in the newspaper - all they want to know is that there's a world out there full of people who are living their own lives. That's often all I want to know when I look at the paper: "What's going on in the world for everyone else today?"
Why does that matter? I suppose Thoreau would argue that it doesn't matter, because our existence is about being present in your own life. But I think there's more to my life than finding the sanctuary of a balanced life, as unbelievable as it seems - I want to know who and what I can be instead of what I already am. Again, Thoreau would probably tell me to wake up and live in there moment, because what I am is all I am. I don't think I'm ready to believe that yet. Maybe at some point I will, but I think I need to find a version of myself that I'm happy to be in the present moment.
I think Thoreau is completely right, which is what's confusing. I see no flaw in his writings, which makes it harder to disagree with them. Thoreau may be right, but there may be more than one version of the life he's trying to lead. Perhaps what he did was easy - go live in the woods for two years and self-definition's there somewhere. The hard part would be learning to live that way in society, to live in the middle of all the things that don't matter and to still see the morning fog and hear the voices we would otherwise mistake for bird calls.
Now that I got the real thinking out, I can go write a short paragraph and one question to prove that I read the book. Ironic...
Monday, January 21, 2008
Not Again!
I don't know what to write about, but for some reason I think this mind will come up with something :-)
So I thought my roommate was learning, realizing that there's pretty much no point to her relationship with her boyfriend. Unfortunately, I overestimated her. She's still following him blindly, taking the blame for things she never did and worshipping him (even though he's a complete control freak). She's like THIS CLOSE to actually seeing this the way it is, but she's afraid of the truth and afraid to imagine that life would be better off without this unneccessary burden in her life. Oh well, now they're talking through they're problems. Wait, she's overanalyzing his text messages and then telling him he's perfect and she's not. Right. It's just frustrating for me because I get this glimpses of her once in a while, glimpses of someone who's life isn't ruled by fear or uncertainty or a complete lack of imagination. I wish she wasn't so afraid to let go and let life change and believe that everything will work out OK.
But I'm tired of being this bystander in her life, even though I have no choice because I live with her. But she doesn't see the power of pain, failure and mistakes - she doesn't see that happiness is more than talking to some boring kid about absolutely nothing for an hour every night. She doesn't see that her life is more than convincing him to marry her, and I wish she did. She won't take a stand for what she wants, because she just wants to experience as little pain as possible. Well, to her, pain is not talking to this kid for two days. I don't really want to be anywhere near her the day she figures out that it gets far worse than that.
I say that her life doesn't matter to me, but it does, because she's someone I really never want to be. It matters to me because it scares me, the way she lives so oblivious of what she's afraid to see. Is she one in a million, or is this the way most people live? Does she do it by choice or out of ignorance? Here I am, finally excited about the person I am, who I could be and everything I have left to learn about this life, and I'm sitting ten feet away from someone who wants nothing more than some positive attention from some boy who abuses her because he's jealous and has some serious trust issues. I'm afraid for her, I'm afraid of what her life will turn out to be.
OK and I'm sick of talking about her, but it's what's on my mind. My sincerest apologies for making you read about his yet again... I'll try and come up with something better tomorrow...
So I thought my roommate was learning, realizing that there's pretty much no point to her relationship with her boyfriend. Unfortunately, I overestimated her. She's still following him blindly, taking the blame for things she never did and worshipping him (even though he's a complete control freak). She's like THIS CLOSE to actually seeing this the way it is, but she's afraid of the truth and afraid to imagine that life would be better off without this unneccessary burden in her life. Oh well, now they're talking through they're problems. Wait, she's overanalyzing his text messages and then telling him he's perfect and she's not. Right. It's just frustrating for me because I get this glimpses of her once in a while, glimpses of someone who's life isn't ruled by fear or uncertainty or a complete lack of imagination. I wish she wasn't so afraid to let go and let life change and believe that everything will work out OK.
But I'm tired of being this bystander in her life, even though I have no choice because I live with her. But she doesn't see the power of pain, failure and mistakes - she doesn't see that happiness is more than talking to some boring kid about absolutely nothing for an hour every night. She doesn't see that her life is more than convincing him to marry her, and I wish she did. She won't take a stand for what she wants, because she just wants to experience as little pain as possible. Well, to her, pain is not talking to this kid for two days. I don't really want to be anywhere near her the day she figures out that it gets far worse than that.
I say that her life doesn't matter to me, but it does, because she's someone I really never want to be. It matters to me because it scares me, the way she lives so oblivious of what she's afraid to see. Is she one in a million, or is this the way most people live? Does she do it by choice or out of ignorance? Here I am, finally excited about the person I am, who I could be and everything I have left to learn about this life, and I'm sitting ten feet away from someone who wants nothing more than some positive attention from some boy who abuses her because he's jealous and has some serious trust issues. I'm afraid for her, I'm afraid of what her life will turn out to be.
OK and I'm sick of talking about her, but it's what's on my mind. My sincerest apologies for making you read about his yet again... I'll try and come up with something better tomorrow...
Saturday, January 19, 2008
SoooaP
I was thinking today about soap bubbles, and how much I like them. Needless to say, I was thinking in the shower. i just started to wonder in the middle of my shower why I like them so much. First off, I think we all know I'm a sucker for isolation, and what better way to be alone than in the shower? (No dirty jokes, please.) I like all the hot water, the steam, the way shampoo smells and how it gets all lathery in your hair, the way conditioner makes your hair so slick it's almost slimy... all of it.
Especially soap bubbles. I read an article once on how soap actually works - something about lipids and how they break down granules of dirt or something. All I know is that they smell nice, are super soft and (obviously) clean, and they get absolutely everywhere but all you have to do is throw water on them and they're gone. And sometimes they keep on coming, like the neverending stream of soap bubbles. I'm not talking like a lame bar of soap, here, I'm talking body wash and a loofa - maximum soap bubblage. I always use too much soap and end up having so much extra bubblage I have to run the loofa under the running water just to try to get rid of some of them.
I love that word - soap. I like to say it in my head the way Shirley Temple would say it - something like, "SooaP," with a pop at the end where the "p" is a little staccatoed note instead of an actual letter. I love the way it smells, too. When I think of soap, I think of the way Irish Spring smells, or Dove. I don't actually use bar soap, because it's definitely not lathery enough, but it's definitely got one of the best smells. I just smell either of those brands when I hear the word, "soap" - I think they're what my mom buys. I would say that soap in general smells good, but that's not always true. Sometimes companies put all these awful scents together and call them therapeutic - I honestly don't know how soap could get more therapeutic than the classic, brand-name sudsy stuff everyone can buy for like a dollar at the supermarket.
I like soap.
Especially soap bubbles. I read an article once on how soap actually works - something about lipids and how they break down granules of dirt or something. All I know is that they smell nice, are super soft and (obviously) clean, and they get absolutely everywhere but all you have to do is throw water on them and they're gone. And sometimes they keep on coming, like the neverending stream of soap bubbles. I'm not talking like a lame bar of soap, here, I'm talking body wash and a loofa - maximum soap bubblage. I always use too much soap and end up having so much extra bubblage I have to run the loofa under the running water just to try to get rid of some of them.
I love that word - soap. I like to say it in my head the way Shirley Temple would say it - something like, "SooaP," with a pop at the end where the "p" is a little staccatoed note instead of an actual letter. I love the way it smells, too. When I think of soap, I think of the way Irish Spring smells, or Dove. I don't actually use bar soap, because it's definitely not lathery enough, but it's definitely got one of the best smells. I just smell either of those brands when I hear the word, "soap" - I think they're what my mom buys. I would say that soap in general smells good, but that's not always true. Sometimes companies put all these awful scents together and call them therapeutic - I honestly don't know how soap could get more therapeutic than the classic, brand-name sudsy stuff everyone can buy for like a dollar at the supermarket.
I like soap.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Thoughts
I think maybe I'm going to be homesick a little bit more this semester than last. It's not that I wish I was home, because there really isn't much there apart from, well, ultimate comfort and warmth, but it's more that I miss being at home somewhere. I'm not at home here, and even though I'm not uncomfortable, I guess I'm unsettled. I've been spending the past couple days realizing that I have little to none of the comforts that I've enjoyed for the past month. I don't mean having my own room, my own bathroom, a car, all of that - I mean being with people who really know me and who I really know. And I know that the only way to deal with that issue is to let people get to know me and try to get to know others, but let's face it - I've always kind of sucked at getting to know people. That's no reason to give up, but I'm caught between being myself and being someone else.
It's not like I don't like the person I am here, but it's just kind of unfulfilling. I'm just another freshman from Connecticut, another bio major, another FYPer (my least favorite label - what's wrong with liking school?), another Catholic... you get the point. And I know that I'm an individual, but my own differences are subtle here and don't really seem to be a part of me. I feel that in order to truly be myself, I need to acknowledge that I'm not so satisfied here. That's who I am right now, someone who's being selfish and asking for even more than the ridiculous amount they already have. I just don't want to feel like I've failed at my time here, but that's what I feel like sometimes. I don't know how to define myself other than by the dissatisfaction. I'm working on it, but I feel relieved in a way to understand this. Of course, with this knowledge, what do I do with it? Try to force myself to be satisfied, or accept the dissatisfaction and move on? I do believe that I could belong here, that I'm not such a bad match for this place, but I don't feel like matching at all.
It's not like I don't like the person I am here, but it's just kind of unfulfilling. I'm just another freshman from Connecticut, another bio major, another FYPer (my least favorite label - what's wrong with liking school?), another Catholic... you get the point. And I know that I'm an individual, but my own differences are subtle here and don't really seem to be a part of me. I feel that in order to truly be myself, I need to acknowledge that I'm not so satisfied here. That's who I am right now, someone who's being selfish and asking for even more than the ridiculous amount they already have. I just don't want to feel like I've failed at my time here, but that's what I feel like sometimes. I don't know how to define myself other than by the dissatisfaction. I'm working on it, but I feel relieved in a way to understand this. Of course, with this knowledge, what do I do with it? Try to force myself to be satisfied, or accept the dissatisfaction and move on? I do believe that I could belong here, that I'm not such a bad match for this place, but I don't feel like matching at all.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
An Odd Couple
Well it's pretty apparent by now that God put me in this place and time for my roommate. I don't really know what impact she realizes that I have on her life, but it's actually a big one. I don't freak out and add to her insanity, I don't get openly frustrated at her for being the maniac person she is (openly being the key word), and frankly, I'm just not that interested in her. Maybe that sounds harsh and not a good thing at all, but I think it's one of the best things I can do for her.
I think she needs to realize that she needs to be self-sufficient, more so than she's ever been. I can go on forever about her issues and how I define her, but when is she just going to relax? She could either have had a roommate with even less patience than me, who she'd absolutely be miserable with because she'd think they were just an asshole for not caring about her, or she could have someone as frantic and OCD as she is, which would only make both of their lives a hundred times worse.
So here I am. There are a hundred other places I'd rather be than in the same room with her, but it's why I'm here and it's what I have to do. It's Day 1 of the second semester and she's back to her usual freak-out self. I do wish that I had a roommate I could connect to and all, but this is what I'm here for this year. She gets a roommate who won't kill her, no matter how much she provokes me, and I get a lesson in self-control and understanding...
I think she needs to realize that she needs to be self-sufficient, more so than she's ever been. I can go on forever about her issues and how I define her, but when is she just going to relax? She could either have had a roommate with even less patience than me, who she'd absolutely be miserable with because she'd think they were just an asshole for not caring about her, or she could have someone as frantic and OCD as she is, which would only make both of their lives a hundred times worse.
So here I am. There are a hundred other places I'd rather be than in the same room with her, but it's why I'm here and it's what I have to do. It's Day 1 of the second semester and she's back to her usual freak-out self. I do wish that I had a roommate I could connect to and all, but this is what I'm here for this year. She gets a roommate who won't kill her, no matter how much she provokes me, and I get a lesson in self-control and understanding...
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Thanks And Apologies To The Fish
Now I don't really feel like blogging anymore, but it's kept me sane in the past so I'll stick with it. I'm trying to figure out how to approach this semester. Should I relax and just do my own thing, since that's all I ever do, or keep trying and hanging out with people when I know I'm not myself with them? It's complicated. Obviously the best alternative is to be myself with my friends, but for some reason I'm not comfortable enough to. Why is that? I acknowledge my poor friend-being skills and don't know whether to change them or to accept them as part of myself.
Oh so funny story, I killed my friend's fish this afternoon. OK I know that doesn't sound funny, and it really wasn't and I really shouldn't be laughing, but just how it happened was too much. My roommate and I were in her room talking to her, and for some reason she leaned back in her chair too far and grabbed onto the desk, which then fell over and spilled everything on top of it onto the floor - including her two fish, in separate bowls. I didn't realize that the bowls were even in the picture until she stands up and yells, "The fish! Where are the fish?!" - leading me to realize that all water and all the little blue and green rocks on the floor were from fishbowls. We jump up and find one fish, but where's the other one? I told her when I found it, but didn't have the heart to tell her that I found it under my shoe :-(. And people came running down the hall with cups of water for the fish, all trying to save them, when I knew that the one I had picked up off the floor was dead because I killed it. And it wasn't even a funny story until we walked out of the room 20 minutes later, after cleaning it up, and I turned to my roommate and said, "Erin, I killed her fish." And then I couldn't help myself and had to laugh, and we were both hysterical about it.
So I guess that was one thing that made me laugh today, and even if I don't know how I want the next few months to go, I think I'm just going to try to be myself. I'm tired of doing what I think I should be doing, and I need to keep laughing about things like dead fish. I know that I get caught up in the smallness of everything here, so the least I can do is keep on being myself, even if that means not pretending and not being who everyone expects me to be. That sounds about right.
Oh so funny story, I killed my friend's fish this afternoon. OK I know that doesn't sound funny, and it really wasn't and I really shouldn't be laughing, but just how it happened was too much. My roommate and I were in her room talking to her, and for some reason she leaned back in her chair too far and grabbed onto the desk, which then fell over and spilled everything on top of it onto the floor - including her two fish, in separate bowls. I didn't realize that the bowls were even in the picture until she stands up and yells, "The fish! Where are the fish?!" - leading me to realize that all water and all the little blue and green rocks on the floor were from fishbowls. We jump up and find one fish, but where's the other one? I told her when I found it, but didn't have the heart to tell her that I found it under my shoe :-(. And people came running down the hall with cups of water for the fish, all trying to save them, when I knew that the one I had picked up off the floor was dead because I killed it. And it wasn't even a funny story until we walked out of the room 20 minutes later, after cleaning it up, and I turned to my roommate and said, "Erin, I killed her fish." And then I couldn't help myself and had to laugh, and we were both hysterical about it.
So I guess that was one thing that made me laugh today, and even if I don't know how I want the next few months to go, I think I'm just going to try to be myself. I'm tired of doing what I think I should be doing, and I need to keep laughing about things like dead fish. I know that I get caught up in the smallness of everything here, so the least I can do is keep on being myself, even if that means not pretending and not being who everyone expects me to be. That sounds about right.
Public Service Announcement: No Halo
So I just played Halo 3 for an hour and a half and kind of got addicted. That's when I know it's time to get back to work :-) But even though it was fun and easy to learn, I couldn't do it for much longer than that. Well, I guess if I were better at it, I'd think differently, but I don't see how kids can spend hour after hour in front of a TV playing Halo. Because even if you're amazing, if you beat every one of your competitors, it doesn't mean anything. It's all just a computer game.
It's a good distraction from actual human interaction. That's what critics of video games say, that it allows players to escape into a virtual reality where your only responsibilities are to stay alive and to kill the person next to you. What kind of twisted thinking is that? Even if I could get used to that, then putting down the controller would just get worse, because eventually you have to admit to yourself that video games aren't real life. Why spend so much time somewhere that doesn't exist?
Even if life is harder, there are so many better things about it. First of all, human interaction extends beyond murder. That's a plus. Second, there are more people than four, and there are other places outside the deserted ruins in the jungle. Rarely are there boundaries - you don't get shot down for leaving the action - and you can do more with your mind and body than point and shoot. Thank God.
So there's not much point to this entry. Oh well :-). Oh and don't play Halo, you'll get addicted and never have a real relationship again. Watch out :-P
It's a good distraction from actual human interaction. That's what critics of video games say, that it allows players to escape into a virtual reality where your only responsibilities are to stay alive and to kill the person next to you. What kind of twisted thinking is that? Even if I could get used to that, then putting down the controller would just get worse, because eventually you have to admit to yourself that video games aren't real life. Why spend so much time somewhere that doesn't exist?
Even if life is harder, there are so many better things about it. First of all, human interaction extends beyond murder. That's a plus. Second, there are more people than four, and there are other places outside the deserted ruins in the jungle. Rarely are there boundaries - you don't get shot down for leaving the action - and you can do more with your mind and body than point and shoot. Thank God.
So there's not much point to this entry. Oh well :-). Oh and don't play Halo, you'll get addicted and never have a real relationship again. Watch out :-P
Sunday, January 13, 2008
These Streets
Stop mumbling when you don't know the words, just look up the lyrics. OK fine I'll look them up for you. :-P
These Streets
Paolo Nutini
Cross the border,
Into the big bad world
Where it takes you 'bout an hour
Just to cross the road
Just to stumble across another poor old soul from
The dreary old lanes to the high-street madness
I fight with my brain to believe my eyes
And it's harder than you think
To believe this sadness
That creeps up my spine
And haunts me through the night
And life is good and the girls are gorgeous
Suddenly the air smells much greener now
And I'm wondering 'round
With a half pack of cigarettes
Searching for the change that I've lost somehow
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
Where'd the days go? When all we did was play
And the stress that we were under wasn't stress at all
Just a run and a jump into a harmless fall from
Walking by a high-rise to a landmark square
You see millions of people with millions of cares
And I struggle to the train to make my way home
I look at the people as they sit there alone
Life is good, and the sun is shining
Everybody flirts to their ideal place
And the children all smile as a boat shuffled by them
Trying to pretend that they've got some space
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
Life is good, and the girls are gorgeous
Suddenly the air smells much greener now
And I'm wondering 'round
With a half pack of cigarettes
Searching for the change that I've lost somehow
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in our Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
These Streets
Paolo Nutini
Cross the border,
Into the big bad world
Where it takes you 'bout an hour
Just to cross the road
Just to stumble across another poor old soul from
The dreary old lanes to the high-street madness
I fight with my brain to believe my eyes
And it's harder than you think
To believe this sadness
That creeps up my spine
And haunts me through the night
And life is good and the girls are gorgeous
Suddenly the air smells much greener now
And I'm wondering 'round
With a half pack of cigarettes
Searching for the change that I've lost somehow
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
Where'd the days go? When all we did was play
And the stress that we were under wasn't stress at all
Just a run and a jump into a harmless fall from
Walking by a high-rise to a landmark square
You see millions of people with millions of cares
And I struggle to the train to make my way home
I look at the people as they sit there alone
Life is good, and the sun is shining
Everybody flirts to their ideal place
And the children all smile as a boat shuffled by them
Trying to pretend that they've got some space
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
Life is good, and the girls are gorgeous
Suddenly the air smells much greener now
And I'm wondering 'round
With a half pack of cigarettes
Searching for the change that I've lost somehow
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
These streets have too many names for me
I'm used to Glenfield road and spending my time down in our Arkie
I'll get used to this eventually
I know, I know
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Um...
I am now on a mission to not take myself seriously. It might be a brutal journey, involving unforeseen obstacles, such as rope bridges and swordfights and maybe even a flaming dragon. I'm not sure, I forget what happened the last time I made the trip. Or have I ever? Not sure of that either. Point is, I may or may not make it back alive. If I don't, well then it was nice knowing you; if I do, I probably won't report back because that would defeat the purpose of not taking myself seriously. duh.
Bon Voyage, Mis Amis...
Bon Voyage, Mis Amis...
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
I Wish It Was Just Hormones
Maybe this is what it's like being hormonal, having your emotions shoot from one end of the spectrum to the other without any warning. Like that completely inaccurate thing I said about emotions being on a meter - it's like someone stuck a magnet under the meter and now I'm being pulled and repelled from God knows where. I never really know what emotional state I'll find myself in, so I'm always kind of afraid to check. And then I check and see what I'm feeling and kick myself for opening this can of worms.
Like right now, what part of the emotion spectrum am I at right now? Well, you tell me. What is it when you're just trying to get some sleep and all you can think is, "God, I want to cry again"? And I don't really know why, even though I do. It's like all at once I get hit with all this doubt and frustration and confusion and wish such emotions didn't exist. I don't really feel like writing about it - I feel like going to sleep and waking up tomorrow in a different mood. And then I think, well, what if this is the truth? What if this is how I really feel about everything, just... defeated? Would a better mood then be a lie?
I make things to be more complicated than they are, I know that. I know I don't acknowledge my fears, hoping that they'll disappear if I ignore them. And I'm tired of making such a big damn deal about it all. I know that life will probably never be the way I want it - how long will it be before I accept that? Then again, do I have to accept that? Whatever happened to, "If you want something enough, you will find a way to achieve it"? It's just that sometimes life moves so slowly I want to stick a needle in my eye to make it more interesting, and then other times it's already passed me by before I manage to make a grab at it.
The only good thing about feeling all of this is that I'm feeling it, period. Otherwise I'm just lying to myself, telling myself I'm OK and not really knowing if it's true or not. What does that even mean, being OK? OK with what? By what standards? I don't even know. And then I get angry about having to write about all of this when I really want to write about something better, something more cheerful, something hopeful. But this is all that's on my mind. Great, really great. I feel like everything's my fault sometimes, that I've failed in so many ways. I'm on edge too much, sometimes near tears simply because I hear a good song. I can't stand to keep on thinking, "Why do I put myself through this?" because then I remember it's still all on me.
Some good news would be nice. Something to hold me up and push me forward would be nice. What's worse, maybe all that good stuff is around me and I don't even see it. Maybe I'll just go brush my teeth and enjoy how that feels, then take out my contacts and enjoy how that feels, and then lie down and rest my legs, sore from running, and enjoy how that feels. At least it's a start...
Like right now, what part of the emotion spectrum am I at right now? Well, you tell me. What is it when you're just trying to get some sleep and all you can think is, "God, I want to cry again"? And I don't really know why, even though I do. It's like all at once I get hit with all this doubt and frustration and confusion and wish such emotions didn't exist. I don't really feel like writing about it - I feel like going to sleep and waking up tomorrow in a different mood. And then I think, well, what if this is the truth? What if this is how I really feel about everything, just... defeated? Would a better mood then be a lie?
I make things to be more complicated than they are, I know that. I know I don't acknowledge my fears, hoping that they'll disappear if I ignore them. And I'm tired of making such a big damn deal about it all. I know that life will probably never be the way I want it - how long will it be before I accept that? Then again, do I have to accept that? Whatever happened to, "If you want something enough, you will find a way to achieve it"? It's just that sometimes life moves so slowly I want to stick a needle in my eye to make it more interesting, and then other times it's already passed me by before I manage to make a grab at it.
The only good thing about feeling all of this is that I'm feeling it, period. Otherwise I'm just lying to myself, telling myself I'm OK and not really knowing if it's true or not. What does that even mean, being OK? OK with what? By what standards? I don't even know. And then I get angry about having to write about all of this when I really want to write about something better, something more cheerful, something hopeful. But this is all that's on my mind. Great, really great. I feel like everything's my fault sometimes, that I've failed in so many ways. I'm on edge too much, sometimes near tears simply because I hear a good song. I can't stand to keep on thinking, "Why do I put myself through this?" because then I remember it's still all on me.
Some good news would be nice. Something to hold me up and push me forward would be nice. What's worse, maybe all that good stuff is around me and I don't even see it. Maybe I'll just go brush my teeth and enjoy how that feels, then take out my contacts and enjoy how that feels, and then lie down and rest my legs, sore from running, and enjoy how that feels. At least it's a start...
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Silence, Please
I almost had a heart attack five seconds ago when I was having trouble signing in. What does it mean that I've become dependent on writing these blogs? Well, whatever it means, I don't really care. If it's an addictive habit, so be it.
I realize that I haven't really felt at ease being home all this time. I've been concerned about what comes next, what I should be doing, how to take advantage of this time, etc. And looking back over this past month, it hasn't been what I planned it to be. I haven't been all that relaxed, I've followed habits I no longer depend on and no longer need and I haven't managed to spend enough time with the people I came home to be with. Yet simultaneously I've used this time well, relocating myself and remembering what I am blessed to have in myself and in others. I guess we always end up wasting time before we realize we're doing it, which is a pattern I hope to break free from more often. Here I am, in my last week, and I feel like I finally found a break. I'm scared about a lot of what's coming up, but I feel so reassured to see what I still have and will be able to carry with me. This is, after all, the beginning, where it all started. The past few months before this break haven't been awful, but they don't really hold a candle to what I'm capable of. There are aspects of this home life that I know I'm too stubborn to let go of, and since they mean the most to me right now, I won't be letting go of them any time soon. I see that here I no longer have to try to be myself, even though I spent a good amount of time worrying about what comes next. I tell myself that the best way to live is without worry, but when the worry itself is the most I have to worry about, that's a good sign.
So here I have, one week left, feeling that I've wasted this break. Why does it seem to happen that way? I guess I had all of these hopes and expectations for what it would be like that didn't get fulfilled. Of course, it happened for a reason - I see now that I'm going back to school stronger and more prepared. I've decided what I'm going to do with myself, something I never could have reached anywhere other than at home. It's just so easy to forget what I love and live for when it's not in front of my face every day, and yet when it is in front of my face I forget that it's there. Like tonight - I spent three hours on the couch watching TV and sharing a blanket with my mom, and while watching TV is something I try to do as little of as possible, these were certainly three well-spent hours. It's what my mom does most nights before she heads upstairs to sleep - she flips on the TV and sits in the same spot under the same blanket until she can no longer keeps her eyes open. If my dad's there, he'll tell her when she needs to go to bed. He wasn't here tonight, and while I primarily sat down with the intention of getting up momentarily, I found myself curled up hours later watching a TV show neither I nor my mom really cared about. It was all I really needed to do to be at home.
I suppose I thought that this would be a break from the things that I was unhappy with, as if I could just leave them behind my for a month. I should have known myself better, because I brought my troubles home with me. Maybe since I did that, I'll go back and find that they're a little less apparent. The point is that I came home to take care of what I couldn't before, and while it wasn't all that enjoyable at times, it was what I needed to do. I still have a long way to go, but I feel OK now. And I didn't get to do everything I wanted to over this break, but it was an example of doing what I needed before doing what I wanted. So it wasn't wasted at all, and even though it wasn't what I wanted, it was time well-spent.
So maybe, now that I've realized that, I can make this last week a good one? I think peace and quiet is finally what I need.
I realize that I haven't really felt at ease being home all this time. I've been concerned about what comes next, what I should be doing, how to take advantage of this time, etc. And looking back over this past month, it hasn't been what I planned it to be. I haven't been all that relaxed, I've followed habits I no longer depend on and no longer need and I haven't managed to spend enough time with the people I came home to be with. Yet simultaneously I've used this time well, relocating myself and remembering what I am blessed to have in myself and in others. I guess we always end up wasting time before we realize we're doing it, which is a pattern I hope to break free from more often. Here I am, in my last week, and I feel like I finally found a break. I'm scared about a lot of what's coming up, but I feel so reassured to see what I still have and will be able to carry with me. This is, after all, the beginning, where it all started. The past few months before this break haven't been awful, but they don't really hold a candle to what I'm capable of. There are aspects of this home life that I know I'm too stubborn to let go of, and since they mean the most to me right now, I won't be letting go of them any time soon. I see that here I no longer have to try to be myself, even though I spent a good amount of time worrying about what comes next. I tell myself that the best way to live is without worry, but when the worry itself is the most I have to worry about, that's a good sign.
So here I have, one week left, feeling that I've wasted this break. Why does it seem to happen that way? I guess I had all of these hopes and expectations for what it would be like that didn't get fulfilled. Of course, it happened for a reason - I see now that I'm going back to school stronger and more prepared. I've decided what I'm going to do with myself, something I never could have reached anywhere other than at home. It's just so easy to forget what I love and live for when it's not in front of my face every day, and yet when it is in front of my face I forget that it's there. Like tonight - I spent three hours on the couch watching TV and sharing a blanket with my mom, and while watching TV is something I try to do as little of as possible, these were certainly three well-spent hours. It's what my mom does most nights before she heads upstairs to sleep - she flips on the TV and sits in the same spot under the same blanket until she can no longer keeps her eyes open. If my dad's there, he'll tell her when she needs to go to bed. He wasn't here tonight, and while I primarily sat down with the intention of getting up momentarily, I found myself curled up hours later watching a TV show neither I nor my mom really cared about. It was all I really needed to do to be at home.
I suppose I thought that this would be a break from the things that I was unhappy with, as if I could just leave them behind my for a month. I should have known myself better, because I brought my troubles home with me. Maybe since I did that, I'll go back and find that they're a little less apparent. The point is that I came home to take care of what I couldn't before, and while it wasn't all that enjoyable at times, it was what I needed to do. I still have a long way to go, but I feel OK now. And I didn't get to do everything I wanted to over this break, but it was an example of doing what I needed before doing what I wanted. So it wasn't wasted at all, and even though it wasn't what I wanted, it was time well-spent.
So maybe, now that I've realized that, I can make this last week a good one? I think peace and quiet is finally what I need.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Repetition
Hi Blog, how are you? It's been a while since we chatted. Well, it's been a while since I last spilled my guts while you just listened. I've been doing all this solitary thinking without you, and maybe that's why it's gotten so tangled in my head. It seems that the things I think and the things I do lately don't seem to match up. I'm not really sure why that is, or why I think that is. It's just like whatever I do doesn't seem to have any respect for whatever I think. Not that I'm going against my morals or something, but they just don't logically agree. It's like I'm a completely different person on the inside and outside, yet either way I feel like myself. I also don't though - it's the side of myself that's kind of no fun to be. I feel the need to break away from it and do something spontaneous, something I can't overthink because I didn't know it was coming.
Maybe I should learn something new - I was playing around with my mom's new digital camera today and couldn't seem to put it down. I just kept getting random thoughts, usually something to end this sentence: "What happens if...?" I definitely should appreciate my camera more, even though I've never been big on taking pictures. I always kind of thought that taking pictures is a way of being a bystander and prevents you from actually living in the moment. Plus everyone starts worrying about what they look like and who's going to see the pictures and blah blah blah...
I need to have some fun sometime very soon, because I'm kind of drying up from all the seriousness. There's something about this time of year that calls for an extra dose of excitement - something about the weather. I realized today that I love New England for it's unreliability in weather, even though usually you can expect the worst and quickly have your expectations satisfied. It makes you work extra hard to be happy, because the sun isn't always there. In fact, it seems like it's rarely out for most of the winter. Somehow I have no desire for good weather - my roommate is currently salivating over the fact that it's about 70 degrees and sunny where she is, but personally I think winter weather is supposed to suck. What's the point of it being winter if the weather's going to be good all the time? It makes spring and summer that much better, honestly.
Oh look, another ramble. This was kind of a ramble of an afternoon - I feel like I had a plan at some point, but forgot that I actually had to execute the plan. Now how about that word - how does execute mean "to carry out" and "to chop one's head off"? Well I'm sure Webster's Dictionary puts it more eloquently than that, but really, who came up with that double meaning?
I should go do something productive. Work out, shower, blah blah - it's all a routine. I'm tired of the routine, but what else is there but the routine? Like writing blogs, that's kind of a routine. Eating three times a day, sleeping every night, routine routine routine. Well some of them are necessary bodily rhythms - circadian or whatever type they are - so routine is part of our natural life cycle.
But does it always have to be so repetitive?
Maybe I should learn something new - I was playing around with my mom's new digital camera today and couldn't seem to put it down. I just kept getting random thoughts, usually something to end this sentence: "What happens if...?" I definitely should appreciate my camera more, even though I've never been big on taking pictures. I always kind of thought that taking pictures is a way of being a bystander and prevents you from actually living in the moment. Plus everyone starts worrying about what they look like and who's going to see the pictures and blah blah blah...
I need to have some fun sometime very soon, because I'm kind of drying up from all the seriousness. There's something about this time of year that calls for an extra dose of excitement - something about the weather. I realized today that I love New England for it's unreliability in weather, even though usually you can expect the worst and quickly have your expectations satisfied. It makes you work extra hard to be happy, because the sun isn't always there. In fact, it seems like it's rarely out for most of the winter. Somehow I have no desire for good weather - my roommate is currently salivating over the fact that it's about 70 degrees and sunny where she is, but personally I think winter weather is supposed to suck. What's the point of it being winter if the weather's going to be good all the time? It makes spring and summer that much better, honestly.
Oh look, another ramble. This was kind of a ramble of an afternoon - I feel like I had a plan at some point, but forgot that I actually had to execute the plan. Now how about that word - how does execute mean "to carry out" and "to chop one's head off"? Well I'm sure Webster's Dictionary puts it more eloquently than that, but really, who came up with that double meaning?
I should go do something productive. Work out, shower, blah blah - it's all a routine. I'm tired of the routine, but what else is there but the routine? Like writing blogs, that's kind of a routine. Eating three times a day, sleeping every night, routine routine routine. Well some of them are necessary bodily rhythms - circadian or whatever type they are - so routine is part of our natural life cycle.
But does it always have to be so repetitive?
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