You're stuck in a chauvinistic, racist, homophobic state of mind and you don't even realize it. Or, rather, you do - you just don't care. To you it's all a joke. Rape, domestic violence, discrimination based on race, sexual orientation, and gender - it's all just a joke.
You go give God your time of day, wearing your Sunday best, but your very being is drenched with the stench of your hypocrisy; you disgust me. You physically revolt me. I get to thinking about the spiral that your mind is in, how indifferent you are to the culture you're a part of, the implications of your beliefs and your acceptances, and it churns my stomach and makes me sick.
And then you have the audacity to point your finger at me. You criticize and laugh at me for breaking away, you taunt and tease me for being offended and infuriated by your off hand remarks and "jokes." Fuck, are you kidding me? Thank whatever higher being there is that I am nothing like you. I don't know what caused my path to turn away from yours - they were parallel for so long. But fuck. I can't imagine being like you because then I'd hate myself just as much as I hate you.
Fuck you. You're 20, 21, 25 - where are your heads? Why can't you see how fucking fucked up you are? Goddamn. I don't need this in my life. I don't need you in my life. Any of you. You bring me nothing but anger, despair, and bitterness, infecting me, and only further causing me to be a cynical asshole.
Fuck you, I don't need you in my life. I don't need this.
I'm leaving.
I'm gone.
Kisses
"I love you. I love you. I love you." He repeated time and time again, kissing her fists, her scars, her fingers, her wrists, her hands, her knuckles, her palms. Thoughts, feelings, words, hopes and fears swirled in her mind, and her mouth opened - silent. Instead of release, instead of letting her go, they grasped at her throat, clawing, and choked her from the inside out. Her head swayed slightly, side to side, and she tensed fleetingly, unable to bring her exhausted, diffident eyes to the eager, desperate ones that were fixed on her, a mere face-lengths away. Again, she opened her mouth; again, she closed it - silent. "But I love you."
Words of a Stranger
"It's always difficult for me to speak and express my innermost thoughts in person. I prefer to write. When I sit down and write, words grow very docile, they come and feed out of my hand like little birds, and I can do almost what I want with them; whereas when I try to marshal them in the open air, they fly away from me."
- Philippe Claudel, Brodeck
The words of strangers fare so well in describing my very thoughts and sentiments, so much better than my own.
- Philippe Claudel, Brodeck
The words of strangers fare so well in describing my very thoughts and sentiments, so much better than my own.
Love Me
"Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does."
- Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated
- Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated
A Series of Non Sequiturial Thoughts
I feel as if I am stuck. Stuck in this strange place, this strange life where I simply go through the motions and time passes quickly by, day by day. I am not happy but neither am I sad; I am nothing. And the mundaneness of my routine only fuels this nothingness even more. This place evokes no response because it is no longer strange; it has become too familiar and we all know how well I do with familiarity.
I am so tired. Always, so tired. I have too much on my plate, but I can't give any of it up. And I would never want to. Being busy is something that I am always, even subconsciously, trying to be because I don't want to stop and see how drab my quotidienne life has become but this then becomes the routine and it is a perpetual cycle.
I miss witnessing the falling snow and being mesmerized by its beauty and calmed by its frost. I miss stepping in the foot tracks that were made by the one walking before me and how comforting it felt.
I wonder if non sequiturial is even a word. Isn't it strange, how we can convince ourselves that a word is a word by repeating it over and over to ourselves until the idea of it not being a word becomes absurd. Although, it is the same with all of the other delusions in our lives that we convince ourselves are reality, isn't it. Repetition is key. To perfection and likewise to destruction.
I have an insatiable desire for solitude, no matter how abundant the love is around me. Some nights I sit out on my roof and watch as the planes fly by and away and am filled with longing to be on one of them, going, going running flying leaving venturing to someplace new because I am never satisfied with where I am in the present. I am not satisfied nor content with where I am or what I am or what I have but neither do I know exactly what I want because I know nothing.
I seem to have developed an inability to speak when it matters most. My mind is filled with words that would appease and put at ease not only those around me but also my own scattered mind, but these words never make it out. They get caught in my throat and tie up my tongue and I am left with nothing to offer but a silence that only keeps us both guessing.
I don't allow myself to sleep, or rather, there is something that is keeping me from much needed, much desired, slumber. I find myself, night in and night out, staying awake long after I have gone to bed, and not for any particular reason. I find things to distract myself from my aching head and my heavy eyelids and my tired heart because I can't, I just can't let myself fall asleep. And I don't know why or at least I don't want to admit why so for now I'll keep my distractions at hand.
I am so tired. Always, so tired. I have too much on my plate, but I can't give any of it up. And I would never want to. Being busy is something that I am always, even subconsciously, trying to be because I don't want to stop and see how drab my quotidienne life has become but this then becomes the routine and it is a perpetual cycle.
I miss witnessing the falling snow and being mesmerized by its beauty and calmed by its frost. I miss stepping in the foot tracks that were made by the one walking before me and how comforting it felt.
I wonder if non sequiturial is even a word. Isn't it strange, how we can convince ourselves that a word is a word by repeating it over and over to ourselves until the idea of it not being a word becomes absurd. Although, it is the same with all of the other delusions in our lives that we convince ourselves are reality, isn't it. Repetition is key. To perfection and likewise to destruction.
I have an insatiable desire for solitude, no matter how abundant the love is around me. Some nights I sit out on my roof and watch as the planes fly by and away and am filled with longing to be on one of them, going, going running flying leaving venturing to someplace new because I am never satisfied with where I am in the present. I am not satisfied nor content with where I am or what I am or what I have but neither do I know exactly what I want because I know nothing.
I seem to have developed an inability to speak when it matters most. My mind is filled with words that would appease and put at ease not only those around me but also my own scattered mind, but these words never make it out. They get caught in my throat and tie up my tongue and I am left with nothing to offer but a silence that only keeps us both guessing.
I don't allow myself to sleep, or rather, there is something that is keeping me from much needed, much desired, slumber. I find myself, night in and night out, staying awake long after I have gone to bed, and not for any particular reason. I find things to distract myself from my aching head and my heavy eyelids and my tired heart because I can't, I just can't let myself fall asleep. And I don't know why or at least I don't want to admit why so for now I'll keep my distractions at hand.
Never Coming, Never Going
I am never coming back -- there is nothing calling me, nothing drawing me in, nothing. It was never a home but a house filled with strangers and I was nothing more than a transient waiting for the moment I could move on and away and anyway if home is where the heart is then I'm still searching, I'm still looking for my heart. Blood is not thicker than water and it is all now just water under the bridge and you can take your words and your thoughts and just toss them into that stream and forget about me as surely as I will forget about you -- I am never going back.
I Am Done With This Summer
I am done with this summer, I am done with this heat. I am done with stepping outside my door and choking on the humidity. It only makes me feel bitter and disgusted and indolent.
I am done with this summer, I am ready for the fall. I am ready for the boots and the scarves, the hot chocolates and the teas, the colorful leaves and the bristly winds. I am ready for the falling rain to come and wash away this disturbed, depressed, discomforted feeling I cannot shake, to come and make me new. I become alive with the cold and I am ready for it to stir me from this waking dream, which has become more and more of a nightmare.
I am done with this summer, I am anxiously awaiting the change. For the colors to fill the trees, for the clouds to fill the skies, for the cold season's joy to fill my heart.
I am done with this summer.
I am done with this summer, I am ready for the fall. I am ready for the boots and the scarves, the hot chocolates and the teas, the colorful leaves and the bristly winds. I am ready for the falling rain to come and wash away this disturbed, depressed, discomforted feeling I cannot shake, to come and make me new. I become alive with the cold and I am ready for it to stir me from this waking dream, which has become more and more of a nightmare.
I am done with this summer, I am anxiously awaiting the change. For the colors to fill the trees, for the clouds to fill the skies, for the cold season's joy to fill my heart.
I am done with this summer.
The Day Your Dog Dies
You repeat to yourself - she's just a symbol. She's just a dog. Don't repeat this too many times, before you realize tears will be running down your cheeks to form tiny pools in the cracks in your palms.
The Day Your Dog Dies | Thought Catalog
RIP Max, RIP Jack.
The Day Your Dog Dies | Thought Catalog
RIP Max, RIP Jack.
I Want to Inspire You
I want to inspire you. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I want to be your muse, I just want to stir something in you. I want you to feel passion, to feel energy roaming through you, pushing you towards something. I want to be the cause behind a poem, a story, an act, a dream. It doesn't have to be grand, it doesn't have to be all that memorable. It doesn't matter whether our lives are intertwined for years or if they simply intersect for a moment, and then bounce off one another. It doesn't matter whether you love me or feel nothing but indifference towards me. It doesn't matter, the details don't matter. I just want to inspire you.
Brief Interviews With Indecisive People
“Why can’t I just tell him, hey, I’m going through a thing. Sorry if I’m being a crazy butthead right now?”
“You can’t just tell a guy that,” she says.
“Why not? Why am I supposed to just play this game where I act normal when I don’t feel normal? Why can’t I just be honest with him? Why don’t people do that? I feel like we’d all understand each other better if we did that.”
“You can’t just tell a guy you’re crazy.”
“….Fine. I won’t.”
“Well.” He laughs. “You kind of just described life,” he says.
On the phone with you, I also cry. You don’t know I’m crying. I tell you about another time when I cried and you didn’t know, when we’d ended an email correspondence — an innocuous one —and I’d cried myself to sleep for no reason I can figure out.
Even when I’m happy with you, I want to cry.
Brief Interviews With Indecisive People | Thought Catalog
“You can’t just tell a guy that,” she says.
“Why not? Why am I supposed to just play this game where I act normal when I don’t feel normal? Why can’t I just be honest with him? Why don’t people do that? I feel like we’d all understand each other better if we did that.”
“You can’t just tell a guy you’re crazy.”
“….Fine. I won’t.”
------
“It’s so doomed,” I tell him about us (the new “us”) over dinner. “But it’s happening anyway.”“Well.” He laughs. “You kind of just described life,” he says.
------
I cry a little bit to myself while standing on the subway platform waiting for the L to take me from Brooklyn to Manhattan. My phone doesn’t have service so I type in a bunch of text messages to you that I’ll never hit “send” on.On the phone with you, I also cry. You don’t know I’m crying. I tell you about another time when I cried and you didn’t know, when we’d ended an email correspondence — an innocuous one —and I’d cried myself to sleep for no reason I can figure out.
Even when I’m happy with you, I want to cry.
Brief Interviews With Indecisive People | Thought Catalog
Humanity pt. III
People are killed for money, power, and just the hell of it. Children are battered and abused and betrayed by the very ones that are meant to protect them. Young girls are sold because there are men who are willing to pay for them. The color of one's skin still determines how they are treated and what opportunities they are given. Society always finds someone to discriminate against. Comedians find rape jokes amusing and the audience finds them entertaining. Girls are taught from the youngest age that they are not good enough. Animals are tortured for amusement. Money is the highest being to be worshiped. Women are told they are not accomplished until they become a wife and a mother. Politicians care more about winning elections than making a change. The Earth is being destroyed. One in three women are sexually abused because society teaches "don't get raped" instead of "don't rape." Arrogance, greed, lust for money and power, pride, self-love, vanity prevail.
There is no hope.
There is no hope.
Humanity pt. II
Humanity is disgusting. We think ourselves to be so civilized and advanced and intelligent but we are none of the above; we are barbaric and hateful and stupid, and apparently doomed to continually repeating the mistakes of our past. (If you are not on a similar level of despair, watch the movie Crash. By the time it's over, the only thing you will want to do is weep for the human race.)
I have a decent life. I'm fortunate enough to have a home to live in (a fairly nice one, at that), food to eat (such an abundance that I have the luxury of being picky and choosy), am able to get an education at an institution of my choosing (and study whatever "pointless" things I so choose) -- the list could go on. I have what I need, and much of what I want, but then I get to thinking too much, and I become filled with despair and frustration and indignation. Because when I look just past my immediate, rosy little bubble, I see the reality of the world: sex trafficking, rape, child abuse, racism, sexism, domestic violence, murder, homophobia, religious bigotry -- violent destruction with no end in sight.
The people of this world have been beaten and battered and abused, and the Earth along with them. Not only can we not take care of and protect each other, we can't even take care of this planet that sustains us. If we have made any progress as a species, it is minuscule.
Humanity is disgusting.
I have a decent life. I'm fortunate enough to have a home to live in (a fairly nice one, at that), food to eat (such an abundance that I have the luxury of being picky and choosy), am able to get an education at an institution of my choosing (and study whatever "pointless" things I so choose) -- the list could go on. I have what I need, and much of what I want, but then I get to thinking too much, and I become filled with despair and frustration and indignation. Because when I look just past my immediate, rosy little bubble, I see the reality of the world: sex trafficking, rape, child abuse, racism, sexism, domestic violence, murder, homophobia, religious bigotry -- violent destruction with no end in sight.
The people of this world have been beaten and battered and abused, and the Earth along with them. Not only can we not take care of and protect each other, we can't even take care of this planet that sustains us. If we have made any progress as a species, it is minuscule.
Humanity is disgusting.
Let's Take a Train Ride to Anywhere
Let's take a train ride to anywhere and when we get there we won't know where we are and we won't care. We'll find a coffee café and drink some espressos and lounge in the chairs outside, and maybe have a cigarette. We'll converse for a while and then sit quietly because we don't need words to fill the spaces between us and we'll just breathe in the moment and then breathe it out. I'll smile at you and you'll wink back and then we'll have a laugh, realizing that several hours have passed and it's time to be on our way. We'll get back on that train and maybe doze a little bit to the rhythmic turnings of the wheels on the tracks and when we finally arrive, we'll collapse on the couch and dream of future train rides, together and apart.
If I Knew Where I Was Going
If I knew where I was going, I’d stop reading maps like they hold some special secret. I’d realize that they guide people toward a destination and not just away from themselves and I’d stop blaming physical boundaries and distance for all of my problems. I’d accept that the reason I always feel stuck is because I’m too afraid to cross the rivers and mountains that I’ve built up between myself and the people around me, between my actions and my ambitions, my muscles and my mind.
If I Knew Where I Was Going | Thought Catalog
If I Knew Where I Was Going | Thought Catalog
Unconditional Love
Unconditional love is a puppy (whether it is two months or twelve years old). When they let you blow in their face or take their paws to make them dance or mummy wrap them in blankets or pull on their ears, without so much as a snip or a bark; when you leave them for hours or days or months at a time and every time you come back, they're just as happy to see you; when you neglect them and forget to take them on a walk, but they don't have the capacity to hold a grudge; when they follow all your ridiculous commands and put up with your teasing just to get a treat and give you kisses just as soon as your face is in reach - that's love. Unconditional love is man's best friend.
Going Home, Away From Home
You’ve done this before, of course, many a time switching back and forth between lives, always leaving something behind as you embrace the new old. A balance would be ideal, but like a straight line or an arrow, your starting point rarely matches your target. So which life is the real one? Who are you? Where is home? Are you the person you left behind, or the person you’re going back to? And if both those Yous should ever meet, will the two different sides of that equation equal who you are now? Or has one side won out?
Going Home, Away From Home | Thought Catalog
Going Home, Away From Home | Thought Catalog
Panic
Lungs clenching, sight blurring, I walked and I walked, trying to steady my breathing, to regain some control. But Pandora's box had been opened, and all those nameless feelings and fears that had remained suppressed for so long were suddenly freed, let loose to form into conscious and coherent words and ideas. And once they're out, they can't be put back. They're swirling, swarming in my mind, choking me from the inside out; I'm finding it difficult to breathe. I need to catch my breath, to clear my head, but the weather is too warm, the night is too light, and I am no where near alone enough.
Deserving Love
"We accept the love we think we deserve." - Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
So what do we do if we do not believe we deserve it? Do we reject it? Run from it? Hide from it? Push it away? Or do we go along with it, hoping that one day we will wake up feeling worthy and in the mean time, pray to God that the one giving us their love doesn't give up.
Questions, questions, questions, and as always, so few answers.
So what do we do if we do not believe we deserve it? Do we reject it? Run from it? Hide from it? Push it away? Or do we go along with it, hoping that one day we will wake up feeling worthy and in the mean time, pray to God that the one giving us their love doesn't give up.
Questions, questions, questions, and as always, so few answers.
No Control
The past several weeks have been the most random and absurd weeks of my life, leading me to the conclusion that I have absolutely no control over my life. I can plan, and make lists, and run my little schemes, and think I have everything under my thumb, but in a split second, it can all completely change.
I have no control. And I'm okay with that. These past several weeks have taught me how to breathe easier and be more accepting to my circumstances, whatever they may be. I'm rolling with the punches, taking things as they come, and hoping, praying for the best. Because there's not much else I can do. And so be it.
I have no control. And I'm okay with that. These past several weeks have taught me how to breathe easier and be more accepting to my circumstances, whatever they may be. I'm rolling with the punches, taking things as they come, and hoping, praying for the best. Because there's not much else I can do. And so be it.
Feeling Sentimental
I don't often get very sentimental, but my heart is simply filled with love right now. I do love this place, and I do love these people. And I do love that place, and I do love those people. I've realized that no matter where I go, I will always be missing something and someone else. But I'm okay with that. I'm okay with leaving bits and pieces of my heart scattered about, because what good is a whole heart, not shared, kept to itself and alone?
Culture Cravings
I have never been especially in tune with my Ukrainian heritage - as a child detesting Saturday morning Ukrainian school, resenting learning the language, pleased that my features are more "American" than Slavic - but I've noticed that, at random times, I experience what I can only call culture cravings.
Growing up, at school or in the community, I never associated myself with "the Russians" (as all Slavics were lumped under one label) because they were an embarrassment. They dressed funny, talked funny, almost always had a poor reputation of being shady, judgmental, and haughty. They looked down at Americans, refusing to accept the fact that by immigration, or for many even by birth, they themselves were Americans. They disgusted me and I didn't want to be associated with them but in rejecting these specific people and their specific flaws, I rejected the entire culture.
But now that I'm so far removed from it, I miss it. I didn't fully realize it for a while, but I would find myself actually speaking Ukrainian to my parents when they called (as opposed to English, how I usually conversate with them) or listening intently to the documentaries in history class when they interviewed Russians or Poles, wanting to catch just snippets of a familiar dialect. When Angela came to visit in the fall, it was so refreshing to watch Everything is Illuminated and laugh at the jokes, to flow between languages in a conversation (because sometimes you just need a good "аж ну" or "ти шо, з дуба впав?"), and yes, I'll admit, to actually cook vareniki. It just felt nice. It felt nice to be near something that is so familiar, something that I never would have imagined that I would find myself missing.
I call these feelings "culture cravings" because I don't know what else to label them. I'm surrounded by a predominantly white American student body, in which the average person knows a single language, and sometimes, it just gets tiring. My tongue randomly gets tied up and I want to blurt out a Ukrainian phrase but no one would understand, or I find some Slavic joke or comparison amusing but no one would get the reference. I find myself craving culture - my culture, the culture that I spent so many years rebelling against and rejecting.
I guess this is what is called growing up.
Growing up, at school or in the community, I never associated myself with "the Russians" (as all Slavics were lumped under one label) because they were an embarrassment. They dressed funny, talked funny, almost always had a poor reputation of being shady, judgmental, and haughty. They looked down at Americans, refusing to accept the fact that by immigration, or for many even by birth, they themselves were Americans. They disgusted me and I didn't want to be associated with them but in rejecting these specific people and their specific flaws, I rejected the entire culture.
But now that I'm so far removed from it, I miss it. I didn't fully realize it for a while, but I would find myself actually speaking Ukrainian to my parents when they called (as opposed to English, how I usually conversate with them) or listening intently to the documentaries in history class when they interviewed Russians or Poles, wanting to catch just snippets of a familiar dialect. When Angela came to visit in the fall, it was so refreshing to watch Everything is Illuminated and laugh at the jokes, to flow between languages in a conversation (because sometimes you just need a good "аж ну" or "ти шо, з дуба впав?"), and yes, I'll admit, to actually cook vareniki. It just felt nice. It felt nice to be near something that is so familiar, something that I never would have imagined that I would find myself missing.
I call these feelings "culture cravings" because I don't know what else to label them. I'm surrounded by a predominantly white American student body, in which the average person knows a single language, and sometimes, it just gets tiring. My tongue randomly gets tied up and I want to blurt out a Ukrainian phrase but no one would understand, or I find some Slavic joke or comparison amusing but no one would get the reference. I find myself craving culture - my culture, the culture that I spent so many years rebelling against and rejecting.
I guess this is what is called growing up.
Feelings
"Feelings are stupid," I muttered.
"Not if they're with the right person," he replied.
I still have my doubts.
"Not if they're with the right person," he replied.
I still have my doubts.
Keeping Time
Breathe in - breathe out, count
one
two
three
and I don't care anymore.
Breathe in - breathe out, count
one
two
three
and I don't know you anymore.
one
two
three
and I don't care anymore.
Breathe in - breathe out, count
one
two
three
and I don't know you anymore.
Wants
I just want to be done with this semester, but I don't want my time here to end. I just want to know what you're thinking, but I don't want to tell you my thoughts. I just want you to forget about me, but I equally want to be remembered. I just want to be stubbornly strong, but I'm a lot weaker than I care to admit. I just want to go somewhere and think, but here there's nowhere to be alone. I just want to laugh it off, but it's much more annoying than humorous. I just want to cry a little, but tears never did any good. I just want to ignore you so that you can get a taste of your own medicine, but I always cave. I just want to be able to sleep, but something is keeping me up.
Conversations
"How did you remember that, when I even didn't till just now?"
"Because I love you."
"He'll get over it."
"I just had a really uncomfortable conversation with my parents about Coachella..."
"What did you even see in him?"
"Aw you have a conscience, that's cute."
"Be happier!"
"The real slim shady?"
"You can be really cold sometimes."
"Summer time is like boot camp for my liver."
"You alive?"
"I just wanted to remind you that I love you a whole lot."
"Isn't it your job to make me feel better?"
"HOLY SHIT my mind is fucking blown right now - I'm a cat!"
"In between flashing each other and talking shit, we have some pretty deep moments."
"Boys...even when they're not a problem, they're a problem."
"Our talks keep me sane."
"I just feel so surrounded and suffocated but so alone at the same time."
"If I bake you cookies, will you love me forever?"
"You upset me."
"I upset myself."
"You're quite beautiful. It's silly to think you won't measure up."
"We're sneaky little bitches."
"Because it means being vulnerable. And I can't stand that. I've taught myself to be strong and not let anything get to me, so wiping that defense away is terrifying."
"Because I love you."
"He'll get over it."
"I just had a really uncomfortable conversation with my parents about Coachella..."
"What did you even see in him?"
"Aw you have a conscience, that's cute."
"Be happier!"
"The real slim shady?"
"You can be really cold sometimes."
"Summer time is like boot camp for my liver."
"You alive?"
"I just wanted to remind you that I love you a whole lot."
"Isn't it your job to make me feel better?"
"HOLY SHIT my mind is fucking blown right now - I'm a cat!"
"In between flashing each other and talking shit, we have some pretty deep moments."
"Boys...even when they're not a problem, they're a problem."
"Our talks keep me sane."
"I just feel so surrounded and suffocated but so alone at the same time."
"If I bake you cookies, will you love me forever?"
"You upset me."
"I upset myself."
"You're quite beautiful. It's silly to think you won't measure up."
"We're sneaky little bitches."
"Because it means being vulnerable. And I can't stand that. I've taught myself to be strong and not let anything get to me, so wiping that defense away is terrifying."
Distance
They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but no - no, this isn't true. Distance simply gives a delusion of fondness. The further away you are, the more appealing it (whether it be a person or place) appears. The faults and shortcomings shrink, producing a false portrayal of perfection. Your memories trick you into viewing it through a more pleasant, more loving, more joyful filter, making whatever your current state is seem so incredibly dull and ordinary.
The mind loves to play its tricks, always teasing with skewed nostalgia, always making you want something that is no longer (or not yet) within your reach. Distance does not make the heart grow fonder; it tricks the heart into fondness.
The mind loves to play its tricks, always teasing with skewed nostalgia, always making you want something that is no longer (or not yet) within your reach. Distance does not make the heart grow fonder; it tricks the heart into fondness.
Thankful
It's amazing how your whole day can be changed by something so simple as talking to an old friend. I hadn't talked with Tim for several weeks and this short hour that we just got to Skype was exactly what I needed. I don't even have the right words to say - it was just as if a wave of fresh air, relief washed over me.
God bless whoever invented Skype and God bless my best friends. I'd be drowning without them.
God bless whoever invented Skype and God bless my best friends. I'd be drowning without them.
Believe
"As long as you have life and breath, believe. Believe for those who cannot. Believe even if you have stopped believing. Believe for the sake of the dead, for love, to keep your heart beating, believe. Never give up, never despair, let no mystery confound you into the conclusion that mystery cannot be yours."
- Mark Helprin, A Soldier of the Great War
- Mark Helprin, A Soldier of the Great War
Lacrimae Rerum
Lacrimae rerum: (Latin) the tears of things; the inherent tragedy of existence.
Kind of beautiful, isn't it.
Kind of beautiful, isn't it.
Best Friends
I'm so inexplicably blessed by the best friends that I have, by the fact that I'm lucky enough to have more than one and by the fact that they are such glorious, wonderful, kind, beautiful people. (They're also selfish and sarcastic and stubborn and snippy, but in spite of it all - astounding.) Sometimes I take them for granted, but then other times I get caught up in thinking about them and I don't understand how I came to be so fortunate. To have these people with whom I can share my life and my mind - it's an incredible godsend.
My best friends, I miss you.
Always, with much love, I miss you.
My best friends, I miss you.
Always, with much love, I miss you.
Stuck in a Dream
I feel so stuck in this life. I want nothing more than to be sitting outside some quaint, little cafe, enjoying the warm sunshine and the cool breeze, listening to jazz. I want to be alone or with one of my few friends with whom I can talk about the real things, things that actually matter and stimulate introspection, not just the colloquial, inconsequential things that tend to domineer conversations these days.
I'm currently reading Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald and it's - good God, it's beautiful. It's as if his pen was bleeding beauty and emotion itself. It is just so bewitching and elegant and smooth - it makes me feel like I belong in a different era.
It makes me feel like an old soul, yearning to be back in the times of the roaring twenties, the jazz age, but instead I'm here. I'm here in the midst of hip hop and pop culture and societies that have lost the understanding of beauty, in regard to all things.
I feel so fed up with the world around me at times, with the attitudes and standards and beliefs that dominate our communities, all I want to do is run away. It is not like my desire to escape, but a different sort of running. The kind where I eventually find a place where true beauty, creativity, intellect, conversation, hope, and happiness reside.
Hopefully I will find this place one day, and hopefully you'll be right there with me, by my side. But I guess in the mean time, I'll be stuck in a dream.
I'm currently reading Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald and it's - good God, it's beautiful. It's as if his pen was bleeding beauty and emotion itself. It is just so bewitching and elegant and smooth - it makes me feel like I belong in a different era.
It makes me feel like an old soul, yearning to be back in the times of the roaring twenties, the jazz age, but instead I'm here. I'm here in the midst of hip hop and pop culture and societies that have lost the understanding of beauty, in regard to all things.
I feel so fed up with the world around me at times, with the attitudes and standards and beliefs that dominate our communities, all I want to do is run away. It is not like my desire to escape, but a different sort of running. The kind where I eventually find a place where true beauty, creativity, intellect, conversation, hope, and happiness reside.
Hopefully I will find this place one day, and hopefully you'll be right there with me, by my side. But I guess in the mean time, I'll be stuck in a dream.
I Miss You
I don't want to go out and socialize and joke and laugh. But I don't want to be alone, either. I just want to sit and be with you. I don't want to talk to you, but I want you to talk to me. You don't need to try to make me feel better, because nothing is really wrong, I just want your voice to fill the silence. You can talk about everything or nothing significant at all, you can spin ridiculous tales or tell me about your day - anything, anything you'd like.
But I am here and you are there, and I guess I just miss you.
But I am here and you are there, and I guess I just miss you.
Snippet
I am so damn sick of all these judgmental, hypocritical, haughty pricks that call themselves Christians. There's so much hate and condemnation, when the only thing they should be spreading is love. They act as if they have some sort of pedestal that they've earned, as if they're somehow better than their fellow man, when at the end of the day, we're all exactly the same.
A much longer, more eloquent post will be coming shortly, whenever I have time to sit down and write it all out (and when it's not one in the morning). But I just wanted to say, goddamn does that grind my gears.
A much longer, more eloquent post will be coming shortly, whenever I have time to sit down and write it all out (and when it's not one in the morning). But I just wanted to say, goddamn does that grind my gears.
Find Your Own Faith
When it comes to Christians, few are more aggravating than those who live as blind sheep, following some distant shepherd, trusting his or her every word, every creed, and never trying to learn things for themselves, never trying to find their own convictions. Humans were given minds with the mental capacities to consider, deduce, and decide things for themselves, and if only, if only they would actually use them. Your beliefs, your values, your praises and condemnations - all worthless if they are nothing but echos of another voice. I am not saying that you should disregard everything you have been taught, everything you have perhaps been brought up in, but please, for the love of God, at some point in your life, detach yourself from it all - and just think.
In the words of John Stuart Mill...
"He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that. His reasons may be good, and no one may have been able to refute them. But if he is equally unable to refute the reasons on the opposite side; if he does not so much as know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either opinion. The rational position for him would be suspension of judgment, and unless he contents himself with that, he is either led by authority, or adopts, like the generality of the world, the side to which he feels most inclination. Nor is it enough that he should hear the arguments of adversaries from his own teachers, presented as they state them, and accompanied by what they offer as refutations. That is not the way to do justice to the arguments or bring them into real contact with his own mind. He must be able to hear them from persons who actually believe them; who defend them in earnest, and do their very utmost for them. He must know them in their most plausible and persuasive form; he must feel the whole force of the difficulty which the true view of the subject has to encounter and dispose of; else he will never really possess himself of the portion of truth which meets and removes that difficulty. Ninety-nine in a hundred of what are called educated men are in this condition; even of those who can argue fluently for their opinions. Their conclusion may be true, but it might be false for anything they know: they have never thrown themselves into the mental position of those who think differently from them, and considered what such persons may have to say; and consequently they do not, in any proper sense of the word, know the doctrine which they themselves profess."
(From his On Liberty - whoever said that nineteenth century political philosophy was irrelevant to everyday life? ;) )
If it is faith that you need, or want, find it for yourself.
In the words of John Stuart Mill...
"He who knows only his own side of the case, knows little of that. His reasons may be good, and no one may have been able to refute them. But if he is equally unable to refute the reasons on the opposite side; if he does not so much as know what they are, he has no ground for preferring either opinion. The rational position for him would be suspension of judgment, and unless he contents himself with that, he is either led by authority, or adopts, like the generality of the world, the side to which he feels most inclination. Nor is it enough that he should hear the arguments of adversaries from his own teachers, presented as they state them, and accompanied by what they offer as refutations. That is not the way to do justice to the arguments or bring them into real contact with his own mind. He must be able to hear them from persons who actually believe them; who defend them in earnest, and do their very utmost for them. He must know them in their most plausible and persuasive form; he must feel the whole force of the difficulty which the true view of the subject has to encounter and dispose of; else he will never really possess himself of the portion of truth which meets and removes that difficulty. Ninety-nine in a hundred of what are called educated men are in this condition; even of those who can argue fluently for their opinions. Their conclusion may be true, but it might be false for anything they know: they have never thrown themselves into the mental position of those who think differently from them, and considered what such persons may have to say; and consequently they do not, in any proper sense of the word, know the doctrine which they themselves profess."
(From his On Liberty - whoever said that nineteenth century political philosophy was irrelevant to everyday life? ;) )
If it is faith that you need, or want, find it for yourself.
I Am Not Sad
"He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded as as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others - the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad."
- Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated
- Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything is Illuminated
Feelings
A sudden, overwhelming sense of suffocation.
I think I'll just go to bed and read until I regain control, or until I fall asleep.
Feelings are fickle things.
I think I'll just go to bed and read until I regain control, or until I fall asleep.
Feelings are fickle things.
Hope
What a perfect weekend.
I woke up before nine on Saturday morning, went on a bike ride, and lounged outside of Starbucks for several hours reading Everything Is Illuminated. The sun was bright, but the breeze was cool, and the coffee was chilled. I caught up with the news, had a few epiphanies, and wrote a little bit. Then I relocated to the picnic table in my court and read some more. I read so much, and just kept on reading. (I don't quite know why I'm so enthralled by this book, but I just think it's wonderful. No doubt I'll be posting some excerpts soon.) Then the night didn't end until five in the morning, after several drinks, smokes, and talks.
Today, Sunday, is how I want to spend every day - eating new foods, drinking coffee, relishing nature, reading, being at peace. I had lunch in a French cafe with JC and then we spent several hours at the park in downtown Monrovia. Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe the atmosphere - big, green trees; the bluest sky; everyone lounging on the grass, on the benches, reading and cherishing each other's companies; the only sound being distant chatter, an occasional car, a child running by. In one word: peace.
I haven't touched my homework, but I don't care. I was able to read so much, drink so much coffee, and have so many good conversations, the kind of conversations that induce introspection, challenge what you believe, forcing you to give a defense for what you've accepted, the kind that bring you closer to yourself and to others.
But the weekend has come to a close, and I'm brought back to reality. It's time to hit those books, but my goal for the week is to not get submerged. To keep a clear mind and not get over stressed, to sleep and to study, to follow my own advice.
It was a beautiful weekend and it's times like these that give me hope for the future.
I woke up before nine on Saturday morning, went on a bike ride, and lounged outside of Starbucks for several hours reading Everything Is Illuminated. The sun was bright, but the breeze was cool, and the coffee was chilled. I caught up with the news, had a few epiphanies, and wrote a little bit. Then I relocated to the picnic table in my court and read some more. I read so much, and just kept on reading. (I don't quite know why I'm so enthralled by this book, but I just think it's wonderful. No doubt I'll be posting some excerpts soon.) Then the night didn't end until five in the morning, after several drinks, smokes, and talks.
Today, Sunday, is how I want to spend every day - eating new foods, drinking coffee, relishing nature, reading, being at peace. I had lunch in a French cafe with JC and then we spent several hours at the park in downtown Monrovia. Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe the atmosphere - big, green trees; the bluest sky; everyone lounging on the grass, on the benches, reading and cherishing each other's companies; the only sound being distant chatter, an occasional car, a child running by. In one word: peace.
I haven't touched my homework, but I don't care. I was able to read so much, drink so much coffee, and have so many good conversations, the kind of conversations that induce introspection, challenge what you believe, forcing you to give a defense for what you've accepted, the kind that bring you closer to yourself and to others.
But the weekend has come to a close, and I'm brought back to reality. It's time to hit those books, but my goal for the week is to not get submerged. To keep a clear mind and not get over stressed, to sleep and to study, to follow my own advice.
It was a beautiful weekend and it's times like these that give me hope for the future.
Time Heals
Whether it be a broken heart or a broken arm, time will heal. Or if it doesn't fully mend, then it brings a sort of natural novocaine. But either way, the pain eventually subsides.
Time heals. If it still hurts, be patient. This too shall pass, and will one day be nothing more than just a lost memory.
Time heals. If it still hurts, be patient. This too shall pass, and will one day be nothing more than just a lost memory.
Happiness
Everybody is searching for something to believe in, something to live for, and there seems to be a general consensus of what we're all trying to reach: happiness. Money, relationships, education - all worthless if when you're in bed at night, on the brink of sleep, and you're miserable.
Happiness. An abstract idea, but more so a destination; a destination that can be reached through many routes. My happiness will be different than yours, but if they happen to at some point intertwine - that's wonderful. That's wonderful and magical and beautiful. And if not, so be it. But that's not to say that we still can't walk side by side and share our lives.
Happiness. To succeed in making it a constant state of being would truly be a great accomplishment. But in the meantime, search for the little things. The little, everyday things that make your heart smile.
Get a puppy. Drink more coffee, drink more tea. Read a marvelous book. Watch your favorite movie. Write a little. Sing a lot. Give a pretty girl a flower. Give a cute boy a kiss. Go on a hike. Swing dance. Savor the sun on your skin, the wind in your hair, and welcome the rain when it falls. Ride a bike. Eat something new. Find your faith. Love yourself - your mind, your body, your soul. Stop finding fault where there is none, and change your perspective. Run. Find your passion and envelop yourself in it. Connect with a friend on a deeper level. Go someplace new. Love and let yourself be loved. Just live. Live and keep living; you're bound to find something that brings you joy.
But in your search, do not become selfish. Do not become self-absorbed and self-centered. Remember that sometimes you have to sacrifice a part of your happiness, a part of your sanity, a part of yourself for the ones that you love, to help them find a piece of their happiness. And in time, they'll do the same for you. Love and let yourself be loved.
Happiness. A daily and life-long goal for each of us.
Best of luck to you.
Happiness. An abstract idea, but more so a destination; a destination that can be reached through many routes. My happiness will be different than yours, but if they happen to at some point intertwine - that's wonderful. That's wonderful and magical and beautiful. And if not, so be it. But that's not to say that we still can't walk side by side and share our lives.
Happiness. To succeed in making it a constant state of being would truly be a great accomplishment. But in the meantime, search for the little things. The little, everyday things that make your heart smile.
Get a puppy. Drink more coffee, drink more tea. Read a marvelous book. Watch your favorite movie. Write a little. Sing a lot. Give a pretty girl a flower. Give a cute boy a kiss. Go on a hike. Swing dance. Savor the sun on your skin, the wind in your hair, and welcome the rain when it falls. Ride a bike. Eat something new. Find your faith. Love yourself - your mind, your body, your soul. Stop finding fault where there is none, and change your perspective. Run. Find your passion and envelop yourself in it. Connect with a friend on a deeper level. Go someplace new. Love and let yourself be loved. Just live. Live and keep living; you're bound to find something that brings you joy.
But in your search, do not become selfish. Do not become self-absorbed and self-centered. Remember that sometimes you have to sacrifice a part of your happiness, a part of your sanity, a part of yourself for the ones that you love, to help them find a piece of their happiness. And in time, they'll do the same for you. Love and let yourself be loved.
Happiness. A daily and life-long goal for each of us.
Best of luck to you.
Twenty
God, I'm old. Actually, not really. Actually, not at all.
I'm young and I intend to relish in my youth.
I'm content with what I have accomplished in these twenty years, so let's continue the streak.
So here's to twenty: being young and free and busy and studying and working and traveling and running and laughing and crying and living life. Cheers.
Monday
Spent the night tossing and turning, I don't think I fully fell asleep even for thirty minutes. And then I had to wake up early to do my case brief. My lungs hurt. I have a midterm on my birthday. But it rained this morning, my hair is cooperating, I laughed a lot in French, there were puppies at seven palms, and I have coffee. Life is good.
Work work working for the weekend.
Work work working for the weekend.
Working for the Weekend
That's all I was thinking while at work yesterday, and then the weekend finally came.
Pi Sigma Alpha initiation; downtown/old town Monrovia with Caitlyn, Gabby, and JC; Korean drinking games; new friends; late-night adventures/shenanigans; actions and apologies; getting called out by my friend on her blog the morning after. Oh, life.
And the weekend's just begun.
Pi Sigma Alpha initiation; downtown/old town Monrovia with Caitlyn, Gabby, and JC; Korean drinking games; new friends; late-night adventures/shenanigans; actions and apologies; getting called out by my friend on her blog the morning after. Oh, life.
And the weekend's just begun.
Lent
Clearing the mind and body, while cleansing the spirit. Every day is another chance for something more.
Keep the faith.
Keep the faith.
If I Could
I love you. But if I could, I would leave you. If it meant I would never see you again, never speak to you again, if it meant I would lose your companionship, lose your affection and support, lose you - I would be devastated. It would be hard. But time has a funny way of numbing the pain. And the mind has a funny way of blocking out the memories. If it meant that I would have a chance to be someone, somewhere new, I would do it. Would it be worth it? Probably not. But it's a chance that I would find myself selfishly taking. I love you. But if I could, I would let you go.
(I'm sorry.)
(I'm sorry.)
Desensitized
Disinterested. Phlegmatic. Listless. Apathetic. Feeling with the mind, but not with the heart. Even jumping out of a plane didn't bring a great rush of adrenaline or excitement or fear. And I don't quite know what to make of that.
"And I want to feel passion, I want to feel pain, I want to weep at the sound of your name. Come make me laugh, come make me cry, just make me feel alive."
"And I want to feel passion, I want to feel pain, I want to weep at the sound of your name. Come make me laugh, come make me cry, just make me feel alive."
Home
It always seem so much better from further away. Every time I return, I remember why it was I so desperately wanted to leave. And every time I return, I dream of packing Ellie and my things and just running. Running away from all the burdens and reminders of all the problems and shortcomings of the past and the present, and running to peace and denial, to something new.
Maybe one day I'll run, but probably not. Maybe one day I'll find some place called home where I will actually want to stay. Maybe one day.
But probably not.
Maybe one day I'll run, but probably not. Maybe one day I'll find some place called home where I will actually want to stay. Maybe one day.
But probably not.
Temper Tantrum
It's ridiculous, the things I worry about, consider, and notice. I'm too attentive, but it's only understandably and reasonably so. I feel like banging my fists, stomping my feet, and throwing a temper tantrum - it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair.
"How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception." - Alfred de Musset
"How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception." - Alfred de Musset
trouve-moi
Je te verrai dans ma sommeil, chéri,
Je te verrai dans mes rêves
où nous courrons et danserons et chanterons et resterons
tranquilles
Je te verrai dans ma sommeil, chéri,
Je te verrai dans mes rêves
le seul endroit où je sais que tu me trouves
toujours
toujours
find me
I'll see you in my sleep, darling,
I'll see you in my dreams
where we will run and dance and sing and simply
be
I'll see you in my sleep, darling,
I'll see you in my dreams
the only place I know you will always find
me
I'll see you in my dreams
where we will run and dance and sing and simply
be
I'll see you in my sleep, darling,
I'll see you in my dreams
the only place I know you will always find
me
Godsends
I don't appreciate it as often or as dearly as I should, but I am quite blessed with the friends that I have. With the quality, and the quantity, of them. I have my Ukrainian friends and my high school friends, my class friends and my hall friends, and those random ones that have come out of nowhere. I am thankful for each and everyone of them, but there are a select few that I am most grateful for.
There is a handful of people that have drastically impacted my life in one way or another, and I can quite sincerely say that I can't imagine how my life would be without them. Whether it be because they have been by my side for countless years or because they were simply in the right place, at the right time, right where and when I needed them, they have altered my course in significant ways.
Some I have known for near a decade, others for much, much less. But the amount of time I have spent with each one is irrelevant. Time - history - in a relationship, I've learned, means little to nothing. Yes, it gives one the benefit of knowing the other's likes and dislikes, moods and attitudes, opinions and beliefs, but in the grand scheme of it all, these things are almost irrelevant. (I guess I should clarify - these things are irrelevant to the meaningfulness of the friendship.) We could be acquainted for two, six, ten years, we could know countless, trivial things about one another - but these years and facts alone do not prove that we truly know each other or that we have some significant bond. No, history is irrelevant. Time alone does not lead to closeness.
I have several close friends, but my best friends - I can count them on one hand. They are the ones have left lasting marks on my existence, and I know that many things would be awry if I had never met them. They are, in all meaning of the word, godsends. They are the ones with whom I trust much more than just my life - I trust them with my mind. And I know that I can rely on them to always be what is needed. Whether I need to hear the harsh truth or just need an ear to vent to, they can be counted on. And trusted, above all things, trusted. And for this I am eternally grateful.
I don't show my appreciation and gratitude as often as I should, but one day I will. One day (if they don't already know), I'll tell them of all the ways that they have changed, shaped, and influenced me; of how much their understanding and presence means to me; of how different I'm convinced my life would be without them.
Perhaps I'll write them letters.
There is a handful of people that have drastically impacted my life in one way or another, and I can quite sincerely say that I can't imagine how my life would be without them. Whether it be because they have been by my side for countless years or because they were simply in the right place, at the right time, right where and when I needed them, they have altered my course in significant ways.
Some I have known for near a decade, others for much, much less. But the amount of time I have spent with each one is irrelevant. Time - history - in a relationship, I've learned, means little to nothing. Yes, it gives one the benefit of knowing the other's likes and dislikes, moods and attitudes, opinions and beliefs, but in the grand scheme of it all, these things are almost irrelevant. (I guess I should clarify - these things are irrelevant to the meaningfulness of the friendship.) We could be acquainted for two, six, ten years, we could know countless, trivial things about one another - but these years and facts alone do not prove that we truly know each other or that we have some significant bond. No, history is irrelevant. Time alone does not lead to closeness.
I have several close friends, but my best friends - I can count them on one hand. They are the ones have left lasting marks on my existence, and I know that many things would be awry if I had never met them. They are, in all meaning of the word, godsends. They are the ones with whom I trust much more than just my life - I trust them with my mind. And I know that I can rely on them to always be what is needed. Whether I need to hear the harsh truth or just need an ear to vent to, they can be counted on. And trusted, above all things, trusted. And for this I am eternally grateful.
I don't show my appreciation and gratitude as often as I should, but one day I will. One day (if they don't already know), I'll tell them of all the ways that they have changed, shaped, and influenced me; of how much their understanding and presence means to me; of how different I'm convinced my life would be without them.
Perhaps I'll write them letters.
Update
What a great weekend. Saturday morning JC and Gabby came over for breakfast and coffee; the afternoon was spent bouldering with them, and making far-fetched plans for backpacking in Europe; the evening consisted of smoking hookah on Caitlyn's porch with her and Thomas, then watching Robin Hood Men in Tights with a few beers. Caitlyn slept on my couch and on Sunday morning we made delicious blueberry pancakes and enjoyed them with Gabby, then headed out to Hangar 18 again with JC. This time we got belay lessons and were able to belay each other while scaling the rock climbing walls. Sore as hell, we headed home and after some down time had a delicious taco dinner with Kayla to end out the weekend. In short, it was amazing. Simple activities, but with good company, you don't need to do much.
Side note: I am currently head over heels with U2. Please buy me some CDs, and you will have my love.
That is the current update on my life, and now for the update on this blog.
There are so many things that I've been wanting to write about for quite some time now, but just haven't found the time to do it. Okay, that's a lie. I have the time, but I get the writing urges at the worst times - in class, at work - but then when I get home, I'm just not in the mood. So here are some things that I'm planning on writing on soon:
- "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." - Mahatma Gandhi
- The need for a well-informed voter population.
- Trust and secrets.
- Friendship.
Stay tuned.
Side note: I am currently head over heels with U2. Please buy me some CDs, and you will have my love.
That is the current update on my life, and now for the update on this blog.
There are so many things that I've been wanting to write about for quite some time now, but just haven't found the time to do it. Okay, that's a lie. I have the time, but I get the writing urges at the worst times - in class, at work - but then when I get home, I'm just not in the mood. So here are some things that I'm planning on writing on soon:
- "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." - Mahatma Gandhi
- The need for a well-informed voter population.
- Trust and secrets.
- Friendship.
Stay tuned.
Looks and Glances*
It's amazing how easily your mood and/or day can be changed or crushed by a simple look - whether that be from a friend, a stranger, or a glance in the mirror.
*Written on April 30, 2011, but still just as relevant and accurate.
*Written on April 30, 2011, but still just as relevant and accurate.
Melodies of Peace
You say strength is found in weakness
Peace in incompleteness
So why do I hold on?
You look for a heart that's open
For beauty in the broken
So why am I withdrawn?
My soul's screaming out
To be found in you
Spirit draw me to my knees
Captivate all of me, all of me
Here before you honestly
Captivate all of me, all of me
I'm so messy and distracted
Undisciplined and tactless
Here on the inside
I thought age would tell the secrets
But the secrets are still secret
And the years are passing by
Teach me to wait in the moments of my need
Teach me to hear the melodies of peace
- Starfield, "Captivate"
Peace in incompleteness
So why do I hold on?
You look for a heart that's open
For beauty in the broken
So why am I withdrawn?
My soul's screaming out
To be found in you
Spirit draw me to my knees
Captivate all of me, all of me
Here before you honestly
Captivate all of me, all of me
I'm so messy and distracted
Undisciplined and tactless
Here on the inside
I thought age would tell the secrets
But the secrets are still secret
And the years are passing by
Teach me to wait in the moments of my need
Teach me to hear the melodies of peace
- Starfield, "Captivate"
Coincidence
I think of a person I haven't seen or thought of for years, and ten minutes later I see her crossing the street. I turn on the radio to hear a voice reading the biblical story of Jael, which is the story that I have spent the morning writing about. A car passes me on the road, and its license place consists of my wife's and my initials side by side. When you tell people stories like that, their usual reaction is to laugh. One wonders why.
I believe that people laugh at coincidence as a way of relegating it to the realm of the absurd and of therefore not having to take seriously the possibility that there is a lot more going in our lives than we either know or care to know. Who can say what it is that's going on, but I suspect that part of it, anyway, is that every once and so often we hear a whisper from the wings that goes something like this: "You've turned up in the right place at the right time. You're doing fine. Don't ever think that you've been forgotten."
- Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC
January 27 - Blurbs
Late to bed, early to rise. Caffeine dependence. Silly classmates, colleagues, bonjour. Ring - hello, ring - hello, never ending summons. Honors achievements, disillusion. Resented sunshine. Dirty Dancing on the screen. Disrupted peace. Sappy love medleys and melodies in the air. Nostalgia. Curled on the couch. Nestled in the bed. Faithful Sam, cushioned companion. Melancholy. Fatigue.
Life & Death
"When I'm lying in my bed I think about life and I think about death and neither one particularly appeals to me." -Steven Morrissey
Sun, Sun Go Away
It's snowing in Seattle. Why the hell am I in southern California? I don't even like sunny weather. What in God's name was I thinking, choosing to come to school here. blahrg. I wish I was in Washington or Oregon or Colorado. But mainly Seattle.
Unmarked Letters
I've started a journal of unmarked letters, letters written to unnamed persons that will never get sent. There's just something therapeutic about getting things off your chest and onto some paper, even if the words are never seen or heard by the other. I'm predicting that this journal will fill up quickly; there are so many things that I'd like you to know, but I could never bring myself to actually say them. So I guess this is where they'll go.
Moving On - 2012
A reflection on 2011, a projection on 2012. (Several days late, and not too articulate, but bear with me here.)
I changed a lot in the past twelve months. I figured out what I want to study. I found that I was focusing a lot of thought, time, and energy on people from my past and I that I had spent a lot of time taking many, many wonderful friends for granted because I was so focused on those wrong ones, and I learned to let go. I learned how to move on and take things as they come. I became more responsible, in regards to academics and work. I had the some of the absolute best professors, classmates, and coworkers. I began cursing a lot more. I became more cynical, but also more trusting. I opened up to a stranger and then regretted it and then got over it. I formed friendships that I know will last, and strengthened existing ones. I had the best vacations (summer and winter) of my life. I got a tattoo. I learned how to drive stick shift. I realized that I really am an adult, even though I don't seem like it. I started learning from my mistakes a lot more often. I recognized how irrational and heated I can get over little things, and learned how to think twice before acting/speaking on whims. I changed a lot, much more than I can state in a few sentences.
I still don't really know who I am, or what I'm doing, or what I'm looking for, but I guess one day I'll figure it out. So here's to 2012 - may it be an even better year, or may it kick my ass. Either way, let's have it.
I changed a lot in the past twelve months. I figured out what I want to study. I found that I was focusing a lot of thought, time, and energy on people from my past and I that I had spent a lot of time taking many, many wonderful friends for granted because I was so focused on those wrong ones, and I learned to let go. I learned how to move on and take things as they come. I became more responsible, in regards to academics and work. I had the some of the absolute best professors, classmates, and coworkers. I began cursing a lot more. I became more cynical, but also more trusting. I opened up to a stranger and then regretted it and then got over it. I formed friendships that I know will last, and strengthened existing ones. I had the best vacations (summer and winter) of my life. I got a tattoo. I learned how to drive stick shift. I realized that I really am an adult, even though I don't seem like it. I started learning from my mistakes a lot more often. I recognized how irrational and heated I can get over little things, and learned how to think twice before acting/speaking on whims. I changed a lot, much more than I can state in a few sentences.
I still don't really know who I am, or what I'm doing, or what I'm looking for, but I guess one day I'll figure it out. So here's to 2012 - may it be an even better year, or may it kick my ass. Either way, let's have it.
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