It's the end of another week, month, year. And to think, I sometimes still have no idea where I stand with you.
Shooting Stars Behind Closed Eyes; Hidden Wishes
As I finally laid my weary head down, trying to calm the whispers in my mind
I squeezed my eyes shut and saw
a shooting star
and instantly thought
Of you.
I squeezed my eyes shut and saw
a shooting star
and instantly thought
Of you.
Words pt. II
As the road to hell is paved with good intentions, so are the words stemming from your lips. You'd wish to shower your affections on the cracks in my mind and my heart in hopes of allowing flowers to spud and to bloom from within, to nourish my life and make it rosy but you can't -- you can't. I won't let you because your words are so sweet, I would breathe them in and swallow them whole but I can't -- I can't. Because your words are lathered with honey and are whispered with the best of intentions but that's where it ends. That's where it ends.
Words
Words are empty, so bite your tongue. If your plans do not include your actions succeeding your words, keep them to yourself. Bite your tongue, your words are useless to me.
Love
"I don't want your love unless you know I am repulsive, and love me even as you know it."
- Georges Bataille, My Mother
- Georges Bataille, My Mother
Friend
It's really hard when someone is sitting next to you, telling you that they're lonely and that they have no one. Every part of your being then screams out, "I'M here, I'm listening, I'm here for whatever you need," but your voice stays silent. You just nod and agree, that it's hard, silently feeling your heart break because you love them, you do, but they just don't quite see the extent of your love. And what can you do. You don't want to shove it down their throat. So you just stay by the sidelines, making small gestures of love and support, listening, and just waiting. Waiting for them to realize that you really are a friend.
Being Grateful
I used to be a lot more grateful and that, in turn, made me a lot happier. It made me more optimistic and light-hearted. I would write down on a note card things that I was grateful for every day, and it made all the difference. I'm not sure why I stopped, I guess I just started to forget, and that let cynicism get a foothold. I've been quite the cynic and much more of a pessimist for a long while now and I know that this needs to change. I'm tired of feeling this way. But if I make no attempt to change, nothing will. It will all be the same. Stuck in a perpetual cycle of loathing and bitterness. I need to let go of my cynicism but it has been with me for so long, a part of me fears I'll be dumbfounded and not know what I have left.
Ellie
I don't care what anyone says. Dog is man's (woman's) best friend. I honestly don't know what I would do without her. Who else is there, at 3:00 in the morning, when you're drunk off your ass, and running low on cigarettes? No person can bring that kind of comfort and love.
Wedding Nuances
[Preface: I am not against marriage. If you have found the person that you want to be with for the long haul, good for you. That is seriously amazing, and I wish you the best. Go forth and prosper, as equals. I just really, really, really, hate the little nuances that are intertwined with weddings. Specifically, the ones that are associated with the bride.]
For starters, it is tradition for the boyfriend to ask the father for his blessing/permission to marry his daughter. My question is why. What does it matter what the father says? If it's to ensure good family relations, why not ask the mother? And then the siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. Why not ask any of them? It is completely irrelevant what the father thinks, in regard to how the two feel about one another, and yet why is this "permission" needed? Because it is rooted in the idea that a woman is property and belongs in the possession of a man.
Similarly, the tradition of the father walking the bride down the aisle and "giving her away." Can we even just look at the language: giving her away. Again, the bride is seen as a possession. And this is nothing but a transfer of ownership, from one man to another.
The next thing I want to consider is the title of "Mrs." Male titles do not change when they get married because a man is not defined by his marital status, but a woman definitely is. Why can't we just universally accept that Mr. will be for all men, and Ms. for all women? Why does it have to change to Mrs., to notify any outside that a woman is married? Also, why, at weddings, do they always announce, (for example) "For the first time, I welcome Mr. and Mrs. John Smith!" Where has the woman gone? It seems as if she's been completely absorbed by her husband, not only taking his last name, but now only being referred to as being his counterpart, and only in relation to him.
These three things really grind my gears because they are just considered as traditions. The original meaning or sentiment behind them (hopefully) no longer exists, but the fact that they are rooted in such chauvinism -- it's not something that I can get over. These traditions will always bother me and I can only hope that culture will continue to change, and that we relinquish these ties and establish better traditions.
As mush as I loathe these practices, it is nothing in comparison to the worst offender: the fact that a woman's wedding day is her "big day."
Women spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on their weddings, waste hours upon hours planning out every single minute detail, and expect every little thing to be perfect for one single day - and it's completely normal. Never is a groom seen stressing as much over a wedding, and is told to allow the bride to do what she wants, because it's her big day. It's "what she has been dreaming of since she was a little girl." These are accepted ideas that continue to be prevalent and domineering in society and I. Can't. Stand. It.
Does a woman's greatest accomplishment rest in that ring on her finger? Is the epitome and pinnacle of her life her wedding day? For many, yes, it is. And that is a damn shame. Is she worth nothing more? Is a woman's entire value wrapped up in whether or not she acquires a husband? Is there really nothing better, nothing greater, that she can accomplish in her life or do for herself?
I'll be damned if someone tells me that my "big day" is when I get married. Why can my "big day" not be the day that I graduate college? It's a bit taken for granted in our society, but compared to the rest of the world, I'm damn fortunate and accomplished if I have a degree. Why can it not be the day that I get my law degree? Or the day that I become a partner in a firm? Or whatever other career I choose to pursue - why can the start of that career not be considered my "big day?" And what if I choose to never get married? I'd be looked down upon, and pitied, because oh poor me oh my, how sad that no man wants to spend his life with me.
I have so much more to offer to the world than my damn hand in marriage. I just wish other women would see themselves the same way.
For starters, it is tradition for the boyfriend to ask the father for his blessing/permission to marry his daughter. My question is why. What does it matter what the father says? If it's to ensure good family relations, why not ask the mother? And then the siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. Why not ask any of them? It is completely irrelevant what the father thinks, in regard to how the two feel about one another, and yet why is this "permission" needed? Because it is rooted in the idea that a woman is property and belongs in the possession of a man.
Similarly, the tradition of the father walking the bride down the aisle and "giving her away." Can we even just look at the language: giving her away. Again, the bride is seen as a possession. And this is nothing but a transfer of ownership, from one man to another.
The next thing I want to consider is the title of "Mrs." Male titles do not change when they get married because a man is not defined by his marital status, but a woman definitely is. Why can't we just universally accept that Mr. will be for all men, and Ms. for all women? Why does it have to change to Mrs., to notify any outside that a woman is married? Also, why, at weddings, do they always announce, (for example) "For the first time, I welcome Mr. and Mrs. John Smith!" Where has the woman gone? It seems as if she's been completely absorbed by her husband, not only taking his last name, but now only being referred to as being his counterpart, and only in relation to him.
These three things really grind my gears because they are just considered as traditions. The original meaning or sentiment behind them (hopefully) no longer exists, but the fact that they are rooted in such chauvinism -- it's not something that I can get over. These traditions will always bother me and I can only hope that culture will continue to change, and that we relinquish these ties and establish better traditions.
As mush as I loathe these practices, it is nothing in comparison to the worst offender: the fact that a woman's wedding day is her "big day."
Women spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on their weddings, waste hours upon hours planning out every single minute detail, and expect every little thing to be perfect for one single day - and it's completely normal. Never is a groom seen stressing as much over a wedding, and is told to allow the bride to do what she wants, because it's her big day. It's "what she has been dreaming of since she was a little girl." These are accepted ideas that continue to be prevalent and domineering in society and I. Can't. Stand. It.
Does a woman's greatest accomplishment rest in that ring on her finger? Is the epitome and pinnacle of her life her wedding day? For many, yes, it is. And that is a damn shame. Is she worth nothing more? Is a woman's entire value wrapped up in whether or not she acquires a husband? Is there really nothing better, nothing greater, that she can accomplish in her life or do for herself?
I'll be damned if someone tells me that my "big day" is when I get married. Why can my "big day" not be the day that I graduate college? It's a bit taken for granted in our society, but compared to the rest of the world, I'm damn fortunate and accomplished if I have a degree. Why can it not be the day that I get my law degree? Or the day that I become a partner in a firm? Or whatever other career I choose to pursue - why can the start of that career not be considered my "big day?" And what if I choose to never get married? I'd be looked down upon, and pitied, because oh poor me oh my, how sad that no man wants to spend his life with me.
I have so much more to offer to the world than my damn hand in marriage. I just wish other women would see themselves the same way.
Backdrop
"You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say 'Wow, isn't he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?' You think I'll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I'll swallow you whole."
- Warsan Shire
- Warsan Shire
Christ vs. Christians
Gandhi said, "I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."
This, in essence, summarizes the issues that I have with Christians and the Church. They impose their doctrines and dogmas and move away from, and lose sight of, the heart of the matter. Their very name is taken from 'Christ' and yet they are nothing like him. They choose greed over charity, indifference over compassion, judgment over acceptance, and condemnation over forgiveness. Doesn't seem very Christ-like to me.
You see, Christ said, "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31). There was no asterisk attached to that comment, there were no "ifs" or "buts," either. And yet, so many Christians nowadays would rather accept it as "Love your neighbor as yourself if they think the same as you, look the same as you, believe the same things as you, etc." Which really confuses me, because I don't know how that commandment could have been any clearer. Love your neighbor as yourself. Period.
Christ also said to give food to the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and in prison, for "whatever you [do] for the least of these, you [do] for [him]" (Matthew 25:40). In summary: be generous; be compassionate; be sympathetic. He also said to be merciful, to not judge, to keep prayers private, and to do good deeds out of earnest desire to do them - not to be seen and praised by others. And yet.
And yet so many Christians I know are simultaneously the biggest assholes I know. They're the worst because they parade their faith as a spectacle and hide behind it as an excuse for their actions. They seem to forget that Christ spent the majority of his time amongst the lowest of society, loving them, while rebuking the 'saints' of the day.
I have no issue with Christ. I have an issue with so many of his Christians.
This, in essence, summarizes the issues that I have with Christians and the Church. They impose their doctrines and dogmas and move away from, and lose sight of, the heart of the matter. Their very name is taken from 'Christ' and yet they are nothing like him. They choose greed over charity, indifference over compassion, judgment over acceptance, and condemnation over forgiveness. Doesn't seem very Christ-like to me.
You see, Christ said, "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31). There was no asterisk attached to that comment, there were no "ifs" or "buts," either. And yet, so many Christians nowadays would rather accept it as "Love your neighbor as yourself if they think the same as you, look the same as you, believe the same things as you, etc." Which really confuses me, because I don't know how that commandment could have been any clearer. Love your neighbor as yourself. Period.
Christ also said to give food to the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the stranger, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and in prison, for "whatever you [do] for the least of these, you [do] for [him]" (Matthew 25:40). In summary: be generous; be compassionate; be sympathetic. He also said to be merciful, to not judge, to keep prayers private, and to do good deeds out of earnest desire to do them - not to be seen and praised by others. And yet.
And yet so many Christians I know are simultaneously the biggest assholes I know. They're the worst because they parade their faith as a spectacle and hide behind it as an excuse for their actions. They seem to forget that Christ spent the majority of his time amongst the lowest of society, loving them, while rebuking the 'saints' of the day.
I have no issue with Christ. I have an issue with so many of his Christians.
Realizations
I would feel your eyes on me, during a movie or a drive or some other menial thing, and I would jokingly say, "Don't be a creep, stop staring." I guess I was just scared that if you looked for too long, you would realize you didn't like what you were seeing.
Kisses to the Wind
Standing, with the cool night air
all around,
I'll look at the street
the trees
the stars and
you will pass my mind.
And I'll blow kisses to the wind
send them sailing with the breeze
with some strange hope of reaching
you.
all around,
I'll look at the street
the trees
the stars and
you will pass my mind.
And I'll blow kisses to the wind
send them sailing with the breeze
with some strange hope of reaching
you.
A Late Walk
"When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you."
- Robert Frost, "A Late Walk"
That last stanza -- beautiful. It makes me sad, in a melancholic way.
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.
And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words.
A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.
I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you."
- Robert Frost, "A Late Walk"
That last stanza -- beautiful. It makes me sad, in a melancholic way.
Summer of Introspection
It seems that the general theme of this generation is feeling lost. Nobody knows what they are doing, or where they are going, or who they are. And there is nothing wrong with that. We're in our 20s and life just isn't as much of a straight shot as it was for our parents and we have endless possibilities, so many paths at our feet, but I guess this is where it becomes difficult. It's such a blessing, to have so many options, but it easily becomes a rut that we fall in to.We don't know what to choose or what to do so we do nothing and just go about our daily lives. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. But personally, I'm getting sick of this rut.
I'm getting tired and fed up with myself for being at a standstill and not moving forward. I don't mean this in a sense that I should be more out in the world and doing some spectacular things, as I'm not even done with school yet, but that doesn't mean that I can't be making progress in other aspects of my life. I have been going through the motions for so long that I'm not quite sure what more there is to me.
My goal this summer is to spend intentional time looking into my mind and seeing what I find. I want to reassess my values, goals, and beliefs. It's been quite some time since I've thought about any of those things and I think it's time to start molding myself. I'm not expecting any tremendous epiphanies, I just hope I can catch a glimpse of who I am and I what I hope for out of life.
And I know that I just always need to remind myself that feeling lost does not necessarily mean being lost.
I'm getting tired and fed up with myself for being at a standstill and not moving forward. I don't mean this in a sense that I should be more out in the world and doing some spectacular things, as I'm not even done with school yet, but that doesn't mean that I can't be making progress in other aspects of my life. I have been going through the motions for so long that I'm not quite sure what more there is to me.
My goal this summer is to spend intentional time looking into my mind and seeing what I find. I want to reassess my values, goals, and beliefs. It's been quite some time since I've thought about any of those things and I think it's time to start molding myself. I'm not expecting any tremendous epiphanies, I just hope I can catch a glimpse of who I am and I what I hope for out of life.
And I know that I just always need to remind myself that feeling lost does not necessarily mean being lost.
Forgetting & Loving
Forget the ones that forgot you but never forget the love that you're capable of.
Andrew
I saw a stray photo of my little Andrew a few days ago and, well, he's not so little anymore. I was dumbfounded. Lexi was the one who posted it and although she's growing fast, it's just normal, and then especially Natalya, she's always been practically grown, but Andrew, my Andrew - I just, I'm at a loss for words. I don't know when this happened. I don't know how it came to being practically a year since I've seen him. I don't know how I could let my bitterness toward the community make me desert them, of all people. I don't know how I can bear him growing up without me.
A Midnight Conversation
"Do you ever think about just moving, getting away from that tied down feeling?"
"Yeah, that's actually something that has been on my mind for years, and is always crouching in the corners. Just leaving, starting somewhere new. It's very enticing."
(Jokingly) "We should move away together."
"No, you don't understand. For me, leaving means leaving everything -- and everyone. And just being alone."
There's a pause.
"Sounds lonely."
"Sounds free."
"Yeah, that's actually something that has been on my mind for years, and is always crouching in the corners. Just leaving, starting somewhere new. It's very enticing."
(Jokingly) "We should move away together."
"No, you don't understand. For me, leaving means leaving everything -- and everyone. And just being alone."
There's a pause.
"Sounds lonely."
"Sounds free."
22 February - Blurbs
I don't know where I am.
I'm taking risks, saying things I'd never say with a sober mind.
I haven't spoken to you in weeks, but know that I love you -- always.
I equally want you to remember me as much as I want you to forget me, as much as I want to forget and to remember you.
I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am.
Find me. Forget me. Lose me.
I'm taking risks, saying things I'd never say with a sober mind.
I haven't spoken to you in weeks, but know that I love you -- always.
I equally want you to remember me as much as I want you to forget me, as much as I want to forget and to remember you.
I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am.
Find me. Forget me. Lose me.
Will You Still Love Me On Sunday?
It’s so easy to be head-over-heels under the loud music and the overfull glasses of Saturday night. Everyone loves each other, everyone wants to be best friends. Everyone sees only the best in everyone else. And there is a certain magic in Saturday night, as though you’re so far inside the weekend — so buffered on each side from the unforgiving reality of the weekdays — that everything is possible and real if you want it to be. You say things you might not mean on Monday morning, because for the moment in between the sixth and seventh drink on Saturday, it’s all you can think about.
Will You Still Love Me On Sunday? | Thought Catalog
------
But when you wake up on Sunday morning, when your head hurts so badly you feel as though it will never return to normal, when everything that was beautiful and mysterious the night before has been rendered harsh and unflattering in the relentless daylight — will you still want to turn over to me? Will you still be interested in all of the things I have to say, all of the coincidences we took as divine intervention last night when we were only so happy to tell each other how we feel? If the facilitators of alcohol and dim lights and a group of laughing around us are no longer part of the equation, do you still want to hold my hand?
------
I will love you on Sunday. If I told you all of these beautiful things when we were standing under the red light of the bar, peeling the label off a beer bottle, it’s because I want you to remember them the next day. I want to pounce on my momentary lack of inhibitions to say all of the things I’ll later want to sweep under the rug, but which I truly mean. I am telling you these things on Saturday because I won’t be able to on Sunday, but I’ll want you to know that I mean them. And I hope you know me well enough to know that I never say anything I don’t mean — even if they’re a bit embarrassing to remember in the morning.
Will You Still Love Me On Sunday? | Thought Catalog
Deserving
You ask me how I'm doing and I say everything is fine and it is - nothing, nothing is wrong - and yet I keep finding it difficult to breathe. So filled with a gnawing desire for solitude, self-loathing, and gloom, reasons for which cannot be found but the feelings existing nonetheless. Existing and stifling and ever present. You look at me with eyes filled with love but when I see them all I want is to turn away and push you further because I could never feel deserving. I see in myself no redemption for I am neither considerate nor sympathetic nor benevolent, and yet you stay patient and supportive and kind. You, you who have been with me for near a decade and you, you who have been by my side for not even a year; you, the collective you who have been intertwined with me for whatever reason, for whatever duration, you, I don't deserve you.
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