Perspective

Four years. How much can change in such a time. It's hard to imagine where we'll be that far into the future, and it's strange to look back on where we were that far in the past. Four years ago (well, almost), a show called The Bedford Diaries came on for the first time on channel 9. I saw the first episode then. At that point, I had found it interesting, but from a peripheral, inexperienced sense.

Today, almost four years later, some thought or other brought me back to it. And now, as I sit here watching episode after episode, I am more than merely interested...I am intrigued. Because now, I have had four years more of experience. At the time I saw it, I had been completely and blissfully ignorant of the sex and stigma surrounding our everyday lives. And now, now I understand it so much better, I see it so much more clearly, and that completely changes how I view the show.

It has become more than merely interesting individuals. It has become a reflection of me and those around me. Now, it is as though it has deigned to show the corners of our lives and cast light into the crevices that society seemed to blissfully brush over in a more inexperienced state. Never before have I had just such a dramatic change in perspective and been able to really observe it as much as I have now. With that in mind, I will resume watching and pondering the shadowed line of my life that leads to the present from the past.

Shut up.

I'm tired of motivational speeches. I'm sick of all the nonsense that people keep trying to force on me. I have a life, priorities, and commitments that go beyond the silly technicalities that you try to preach. I make my own decisions. I am rational about the effort that I put into my pursuits, and I make conscious choices concerning what I do. So leave me alone.

If every time I actually work something, you come to lecture me about how I could have or should have done more, or you tell me that it could have been better, or that something wasn't right, then you really shouldn't expect me to show up at all anymore. The sheer fact that you have the arrogance to tell me how to do things is appalling. I have more experience than you in this area, and I can assure you that I love it far more than you ever will. So shut up, and walk away.

You can't honestly expect to tell me that with half as much experience as me, you are any more of an expert on it. And as far as passion goes, if I didn't love what I did, I can assure you I wouldn't do it, because right about now I am very close to the line of absolutely despising the people who do it, so that sure as hell is not what I do it for.

The lesson here? Stop being arrogant. There is nothing wrong with certainty, no problem with confidence. But when you start overstepping your bounds as you have here, that is absolutely unacceptable and I will not tolerate it. You may think that I didn't confront you about it because you're right or because I have any semblance of respect for you, but that's wrong. I don't confront you because it doesn't per se suit me at present given my situation. And when you get up the foolish guts to individually confront me about this, you'd better not expect to get anywhere, because unlike you, I know precisely what I’m doing and exactly how to fight this battle. Go ahead and try me if you will.

Blanket

I remember one day four years ago having used the expression, "a blanket of sorrow." That comes back to me now, but in a slightly different form. I feel as though I am under a blanket. I am not numb, I am warm, and comfortable. But something about it isn't right. I can't reach the world around me.

I wonder if I pulled the blanket over myself to protect me from the world or if I woke up this morning to find myself incapable of shedding this cover. I'm at a point of fatigue or exhaustion or perhpas something else where I can sit here for hours, awake, thinking, and just not move. Perhaps the expression on my face wouldn't even change. I don't really know why or how. But there is no tension, nor excitement. Everything is monotone and existent.

When I walk outside, I feel the cold wind flushing my face and bringing tears running out of my eyes and down my cheeks. Yet it doesn't penetrate. It is only affecting my skin. I do not feel my body, I do not feel my emotions. I have even almost lost the ability to act as though everything is alright. I try to ignore questions and shrug off concerns, and I don't think it has worked very well. I'm trying to drown myself in music, but even that isn't hitting me as nicely as I would like it to. So I guess I can do nothing more than simply sit here waiting for a blow to knock me back to reality.

Not Working

Every time I do something, it ends up being a mistake. Nothing works anymore. And I'm tired of it. I try to deal with it, accept it, and work around it. But I think there has to be a limit to just how much more of this I can really take. I don't know where that limit is, and I know that I haven't reached it yet, but I feel like I'm getting steadily closer and closer.

Last year, one of my exes (not the most recent one) said,
What happens, happens. A lot, but not all, of the things that happen seem to happen for a reason; maybe they do, maybe they don't. When you sit back and you're watching your life unfold before you, things happen as a result of the choices you make and the things that you do, but more importantly, things happen as a result of the choices others make and the things that others do. You can't separate the two, and you can't change what happens. If this is true, it doesn't give you any more or less responsibility than if it weren't; it's still your life, and the things others do are merely influences on your life, not any more.

I can't help but remember that right now. I don't have control over what happens to me, but I do have control over how I react to it. That doesn't mean that I'm not tired of reacting to it appropriately, in a reasonable fashion. But it is true. All I can do is make the most of the way things are handed to me--whether that is whole and completely functioning or entirely cracked and disarrayed.

I'm not even sure where I stand. A lot of the things going on around me seem to be going too quickly and I'm afraid of losing track of my life. It appears as though things have stopped working and everything is about to fall apart, but I can't even find a crack to start fixing right now. It's this dread sensation that if I slip up even once, everything will crash down on top of me. And me being where I am, I really can't afford to miss a step at risk of crashing down and breaking every bone in my body.

Anticipation

This is one of those moments when I find myself sitting here and simply wondering what happens next. The day is gone, the night has come, and I find myself still in a moment, merely watching the world again. What do I have to look forward to the future? What have I gained from that which has now come to pass?

I'm calm yet anxious. My thoughts are calm but my emotions are in turmoil. And I'm not entirely certain why. So here I sit. I watch the world around me. I once again allow things to merely come to me. I have given up the reigns to my life, allowed time and chance to control my future. But this time there is no panic, there is no fear. I am in a moment when virtually nothing can unfold to significantly affect my life.

For the next hour or so, the world can pass as it may. I can finally rest from action. I can sit back and relax. So why is my jaw so tense? I feel my muscles clenching with nerves, despite the complete conscious realization that it doesn't matter. Perhaps it is merely that I am too tired to significantly act. Perhaps it is a matter of sheer confusion.

I don't really know what's going on around me right now. The world is a blur, and everything is fuzzy around me. As much as I want the day to end and allow me respite from these emotions, I am lacking in any amount of desire to let this inaction pass. I hear voices around me, see actions taking place. But I am not a part of it. It is at the same time calming and unnerving. It is, on the whole, an entirely fascinating situation to observe, and I will leave it to be no more than that.

Reciprocity

I've gotten used to unreturned phone calls and unrequited love. Somehow, everything not working has become the norm in my life. It doesn't really make very much sense, not am I exactly happy about it, but that's how it is. Every time I want something, I can't have it or I don't get it. It's been months since I've been really happy and even then it was a deluded satisfaction with the world.

I'm tired of giving the world everything and getting back what seems like nothing in return. I'm exhausted because I haven't gotten anything back to repay for the pain I've gone through with each occurrence. And I'm not about to ask for it. Even if I'm not okay, I will never admit it and say that I am. I'm the person who will never ask for help, no matter how much I may need or want it. Even if it is put before me, I am hesitant to accept it and benefit.

I have adjusted myself to a cruel world, but have not fully come to terms with it quite yet. Why can you not see? I could walk away and find something else to worry about, but the fact of the matter is that I haven't. I choose my battles wisely, even if they are losing ones. Is it ironic that I fight more often for my friends than for myself, that I choose to hurt myself so that those around me feel the stinging wound less?

I'm not trying to be the selfishly unsolicited humanitarian, but that appears to be the position that I have put myself into. And its all because I care. I don't want to be hurting myself, but even more than that, I don't want to see my friends hurt. So I guess that at one point, I stood at a crossroads of decision. I made my choice. I chose my friends, the people I care about. Now I'm fighting the battle that I selected for myself. And with that, I can't expect reciprocity, that is merely the fact of the matter. I get to deal with it.

Stress

Well, today has been hellish to say the least. Beyond the fact that my computer decided to die on me randomly in the middle of the day and I did worse than I should have on an important task, the stress piles onward. Oh, and that's on top of the wonderful hell that has been swirling around recently.

So right now, I'm rather exhausted, and not only my body but now also my mind, is telling me to go sleep. Even though the day has been exhausting and turbulent and some other synonym of the like, I still don't feel tired. What I really want is to understand everything. But that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon. So I guess I get to go back and try again now.

Well, maybe not knowing things is for the better. Or at least I hope that it is. Because I'm tired of confusion, tired of incessant pondering, and tired of subconsciously trying to shut it all out. When I step back and look at it, everything seems absolutely fine--each problem is minor and minute, and nothing is worth being bothered by. But each time I get back into the picture, somehow, everything just seems to fall over and gravity appears to lose its hold on the world.

We're all here trying to find something out about ourselves. We're trying to understand how we got here and what's happening around us. And sometimes, it doesn't look like it's going to work out. Sometimes, it seems like everything is happening without our control and we don't even understand it anymore. So that's when we step back and breathe. All we need to do is stick our head out from underwater and take a long, deep breath, before plunging back into life.

Pain

What do we think about in life, if not pain? Physical pain, mental pain, emotional pain...it all drives us forward through life and tumbles throughout our thoughts. We all feel it, we know it, we suffer it. But somehow, even as we try to avoid it, we wind up seeking it. I've gone back and forth in the past year with thinking myself an emotional masochist or not. And I'm still not sure on that point.

Pain, that carries a certain amount of fascination with it. It's one of those things we try to understand but never end up really completely coming to terms with. Is it better to feel pain or to feel nothing at all? That's a question we consistently strive to answer in our lives (and yes, that question was a reference to a song). Pain is tempting, it is enthralling, it perpetually keeps us wondering. And it's what drives us.

We drag ourselves into hell and out. Every single time, we hope to avoid pain, or to drown it out, but at the same time, do we secretly hope to find more? Why do we do it? Why do we carry ourselves through it? Why torture ourselves? What's in it? I don't know. And sometimes, I wish I did.

I fall too easily. I let myself collapse and get hurt. Do I let myself or can I not avoid it? Is it because I want to feel the pain? Is it only because I want to feel at all? I don't know. But it leaves me precisely where I am--right here, right now. And I can't change that. I don't even know if I would want to though. Somehow, pain has become so mixed up in the rest of life that I don't know if I ask for it or just deal with it anymore. It just seems to prevail, sometimes entirely covering over everything else.

Alive

"How are you?"

Probably the question that is most often asked in this world. My usual response? "Alive." It's either that or, "I'm good, how are you?" I mean, what else am I supposed to say. Most of the time when people ask, they aren't looking for a rant on life or a summary of your health concerns. They want to be polite or not awkward, and so make small-talk to avoid the possibility of awkwardness ensuing.

And I can't exactly say that I'm in much of a mood to lie in response to that question, either. Yes, I am alive. It is a simple fact and, if I am answering, invariably true. I could say "fine," but that is so cliche and overdone. It's almost asking for someone to pry further, even if they don't want to.

Perhaps by answering as plainly and blatantly as I do, I put an end to conversation, or at least a damper on it. But that doesn't concern me. If someone is interested in my company, they will pursue conversation. If they are not, then I have no desire to throw nonsense around in the air until it inevitably falls to a silence they are not comfortable with. I answer as I do. Deal with it.

Island

I sit here, surrounded by people, watching them coming in and out, moving around me, talking and laughing. And I am alone. In the middle of the chaos, I am an island of calm. I can't be touched, can't be affected about what surrounds me. I've made a stronghold of silence and indifference for myself. I can play this game no worse than anybody else, so I do. Nothing can get through my silence to the thoughts brooding within.

It's rather ironic, though. Even as I realize that I should make more friends, have more conversations, discuss things with more people, I work to cut some individuals out of my life. I've lost any desire I may ever have had to deal with anyone or anything. I listen and I talk, just the same as I always have. I remember how to appropriately react to phrases and statements, but none of it matters. It all goes in one ear and out the other.

So even as information enters my mind, it leaves it as well. And I remain as I was before, entirely unaffected by everything that takes place around me. People, events, facts all pass by unseen. They don't matter to me. The only things that matter are the thoughts I'm lost in, and even those tend to revolve around consequences and mistakes. Everything from the past has come back to me, and I'm stuck here trying to pay for it.

Some may say that I live in the past, others may claim that it is a wishful or hopeless attempt at ignoring the world. Whatever it is doesn't make any particular difference to me. Call it what you may, tell me what you will. If it isn't clear yet, I don't care. I've had two people try to convince me of my worth, and the outcome of it has been less than impressive. Why? Because it's all nonsense. Every phrase said as to my helpfulness or pleasant composure in company is nothing more than an attempt to improve my mood. I may put up with it, but that doesn't mean I don't see right through it. Which is why it is easier for me to simply remain my own island, entirely separate from the rest of the world.

Rain

Yesterday, it rained for the first time this year. It wasn't snow or sleet or freezing rain. It was water falling from the sky. Drops, sticking to hair, clothing; soaking through everything and leaving puddles on the sidewalk.

Last year it didn't rain for the first time until sometime in February maybe, or more likely even March. Because I remember that day vividly. I love the rain, and when we started going out, it was promised to me that the first time it rained that year, I would be kissed in the rain. So I was. And it wasn't perfect, it wasn't ideal, and it wasn't as romantic as one would hope. But it was human. The uncertainty, the stumble, the confusion is what made it special.

In the end, it didn't turn out the way I had hoped, but it set the stage for what was to come. Because later that month, it was probably no more than 40 degrees outside, and it was pouring rain. Only this time, it was really pouring. And that time it was almost perfect. In nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans, two layers of jackets forgotten, soaked through, and tossed aside...there I was, in an ideal embrace, kissing in the pouring rain.

The relationship may not be special to me anymore, but that moment is. Even though I may not feel those emotions right now, I know that I felt them then, and that is what made it so special. Along with many things, that memory is now bittersweet. Bitter because of the mistakes I made, and sweet because of what it meant then.

But ultimately, that is why I love rain so much. It has the power to wash over the body, cleanse the mind, and freshen up the soul. It reminds of simplicity and the power of nature. It makes us embrace the world around us, and if we let it, it can take us to places we could have never imagined.

That Night

And I lay there that night, with my eyes to the ceiling. I lay there with darkness enveloping me, the world turning around me. As the world shifted, and the thoughts blurred in my head, the silence engulfed me and everything came to a rest.

Click.

I knew that sound. It was the sound of a blade clicking into place. It was the steadied tension and the poise of steel. And I opened my eyes and I lay there, with my eyes to the ceiling. In that darkness, the world sat silently, patiently, waiting for a change. A softer click followed and I closed my eyes as the knife was shut.

Silence followed.

I may have been there for hours or only minutes. There was not so much as a thought in my mind. Everything had blended together and left my body, an empty corpse devoid of soul to lie on the floor. In the darkness. With my eyes to the ceiling.

And even as I knew there was no change, no hero coming to save me, I lay there. Devoid of all hope. Wishing only for something to happen. Knowing full well that it never would. Everything was black and soft before me. Nothing could touch me as I lay there. Not so much as a blade could trouble me. I was too wrapped up in the empty thought and essence.

The world began to turn again. It was all going by again. And nothing mattered. Not me, not the knife, not the floor, nor the ceiling. So I lay there. Not moving. With my eyes to the ceiling. Sheltered by darkness, caressed by silence.

So passed the hours of that night. The river carried instants forward. And before I knew what happened, it was all over. And I was empty. And there was nothing left. And all was still.

Filling Space

What we do isn't to live. It's just for us to survive, to fill up a number of decades that make up our lives with events, occurrences, actions, decisions. What we're really doing is filling up space. We may not know what we're doing or just how, but in the end, we're just existing through the time that flows. We're letting the current sweep us up and carry us along.

After all, what else can we do? Sometimes it seems that life is merely about trying to just stay afloat. Everything we do is about keeping out heads above the water. While the current carries us forward to the future, we try to have some amount of control over it, over ourselves. Our entire lives are a matter of trying to manipulate time and space to serve our purpose. This is how we get by. This is what we do to make the thing called living seem worthwhile.

We try to make things "work out" as we call it. We hope to reach a level that will put us one step above tolerable at pleasant in order to find some form of meaning in it all. But what we sometimes manage to forget is that if we didn't know what pain was, we wouldn't be able to feel joy. If it wasn't for depression, we would have no sense of ecstasy. We need both ends of the spectrum. And living that way is not easy.

But it's all we've got. We have the several decades that we are given to make the most of, and we have ourselves. That's all. So this is how we try to make it work. This is how we try to come to terms with it. This is how we deal. We take what we're given and try to spin it in circles and weave complex webs out of it to catch us if we fall. What if it's not the best way to do it though? What if all we really need to make it work is hold on to that string and trust that it will hold by itself. What if we don't really need to fill all of that empty space?

Every Day

One day you wake up in the same room as you have for years. You're surrounded by the same people you always saw, you follow the same routine you always did, but something is different. Months have shifted, seasons have turned, and nothing is really quite the same. You smile at your friend and say "hi" again, just like you have for the past year and a half. You ask how she slept, if she had any dreams. And life continues on as before.

But the wonderful contentment of the everyday simplicity of such interaction is lost. Because she doesn't know that you cried yourself to sleep the night before. She doesn't know that your first thought when you woke up was a tortured fear of what lies ahead. And she will never know. You tell yourself time and time again that you will keep trying, that you will change something, make it better, not let her down. Every time, you take a wrong step, fall flat on your face, and find yourself having to face her again, choking back the tears.

Then she looks at you and asks why you do this to yourself, why you can't just change something and move forward. You look up at her, and tear your gaze away, not because you don't like her or because you don't trust her, but because she is too right, too true, too honest. She makes life seem to make sense, and you know you can't face up to that. So you look away. And she asks again what's wrong, what happened, why you're so concerned.

Then you tell her, but of course you leave out what troubles you the most. Even as you tell the story, you wonder why you're so upset, why it all makes so little sense, why you had to complicate it to that extent. And by the time you've got it all out, by the time she's talked you through the bitter memories and the unhealed hurts, night has long fallen and you feel fatigued. You undress and curl up in bed, thinking about what she said, thinking about the world you just let her into, trying to figure out just what had happened in the space of the past day.

And you lie there and you cry, like you hadn't for what feels like years. You feel the tears running down your cheeks, the moisture soaking into your cold pillow, and you shiver from the cold crawling under your blanket. Even as sobs thrash through your body, you shut your eyes and hold on tighter and try to forget about them. And before you know it, you wake up again, to start another day, walking blindly and fighting not to cry.

In The Moment

The past couple of days, if not weeks, have been filled with worthless writing, distraction, and filling space. I think its about time to change that. Here I am, completely alone, with all of the work that needs to be done completed, good music keeping me from wanting to move too much, and hours of time at my disposal. I'm going to try to make this an actually good post--insightful, powerful, emotional, and true.

As many times as I may say it, it will never be enough: moments determine our lives. Right now, I am keenly aware of the moments that got me where I am today. The moment in which I decided to change priorities, the one where I stepped past the line of questioning my morals, the one where I tried to be a good friend at the risk of everything I've got. Moments of intense realization, moments of discovery, moments of intense risk and passionate accomplishment, and even those moments of stepping past my limits and collapsing back again.

Even as I look back with clear thought and rational capacity at what got me precisely where I am today, I can't help but ask even still, "How did I get here? What did I do? What happened?" But I know that nothing happened. It was me, my actions, my decisions, and now my consequences. Now I sit here, trying to figure it out, hoping for a change, but praying that it won't come. I'm still lost. I got off track and now I'm trying to get back on, and its not easy. That's why I'm trying to make the most of it.

"When it hurts so much you can't breathe--that's how you stay alive." I have that quote on a post-it on my desk because that's precisely where I am right now. I'm coming to terms with the mistakes I've made, and trying to understand the world around me and the people in it. I'm sitting here afraid of making more mistakes, afraid of even taking that risk, but knowing that I must. I'm sitting here afraid that a decision will backfire, and that I will be hurt perhaps not only emotionally but also physically because I don't know people or their limits.

Here I am, with my breath constricting in my lungs, my muscles tightened, and tears brimming in my eyes. I'm afraid to live. It seems as though every decision I make turns out to be a mistake, and every time I try to do something right, I end up messing something up. I wonder where I'll be years from now...will I be successful or pitiful? Worthless or miserable? I can't know. In truth, my only option now is to overcome the fear and start to live again. If I don't do that, I won't get anywhere. I just need to take a deep breath and plunge in, and in a way, I guess I have. I'm still working on making sense of it all, but I hope that I'm getting there. Perhaps the question I need to ask myself more often is, "what am I doing in this moment and where will it lead me in the future?" If I had asked that earlier, I would not be here right now. I guess the moment starts now, so here goes nothing.

Annoyance

Alright, I'll be honest. I'm not much in the mood to write. Today has been a strange day that has felt like three all rolled up and spit out. It's not precisely the best combination. And on top of it all, it was actually a pretty good day until an incident completely turned that around. So I think this is going to be a rant on annoyance rather than anything actually worthwhile, sorry.

It never fails to be fascinating however, just how much a single minor occurrence can serve to mar a perfectly decent day. Alas, it happens. Everything seems to be going fine, very few things are even the least bit off. And then your world turns upside down. Sometimes things fall at us out of nowhere, sometimes we're entirely unprepared for anything and everything that comes our way.

Then our only option is to deal with it. So we do. And life goes on as usual. These are the days when we don't want to crawl out of bed, don't want to see people, and would rather not bother with the worrisome nuisances of everyday life. But we still do, because that's how life works. We continue on, bear the burdens, go to sleep and hope for a better tomorrow. So with a final apology about the rushed and rather miserably pathetic nature of this post, I will go and hope for a better tomorrow. Because that is pretty much all I can do at present.

Strength

There is a certain power that I inevitably find in working out. It is the power of beating myself down, yet at the same time building myself up. When I work out, nobody can touch me. It's just me. I hear the music blasting, my own ragged breathing, I see the sweat glistening on my body and the hair falling into my eyes, I feel my lungs and muscles pushing the limits of physical ability, and I love it. In that state, I am invincible. Even if my legs shake and I need to lean on something for support, I am on top of the world.

I love waking up the morning after a good workout, when it hurts to move. The tightness in my legs and core makes me smile. When my arms are so sore that it hurts to carry my laptop further than a couple of steps and my legs don't want to move properly, that's when I feel truly proud of myself. Working out is a battle for myself. It is a fight to prove that I can live, to show that I'm not afraid of the challenge. It is me pushing my body relentlessly to get the most out of it that I can.

I'm in my own world in this contest of strengths. My pounding heart sets the rhythm, my passions direct my body to keep going, and the pain drives me to prove my strength. It's a competition against myself. It's working out the weaknesses and imperfections. In this struggle, I don't worry about the things around me, the concerns of everyday life. People and events fade away and it's just me in my zone. I don't have to listen to anybody or do anything. I block all thoughts from my mind and let myself go.

A good workout makes everything better. It lets me accept reality and find a new source of strength. When I exercise, I work out all of my emotions, I can release them through the movement of my body. When I am at my weakest because of a workout is precisely when I am strongest because I made it. I toughed it out. I did it. That's the sort of strength that really gets me through life. This is how I live.

Give Anything

Right now, I would give anything to have the last year of my life back. To go back in time and just change one thing. It would be so different now, if I could do that. All the mistakes I made, all the pieces that fell apart, all the tears I shed. As much as I have learned in the past year, none of it should have happened.

When I was younger, I always prided myself on how mature I was, how responsible, intelligent I thought myself to be. And now I look back on all of the mistakes I made and realize that I was foolish. I still am, although a good bit less so, I suspect. I don't want to pin the blame on anybody else, I take full responsibility for my actions, and I don't feel guilty. I've accepted the consequences and everything that has come out of it, but I still can't move on.

I got hurt so badly in so many ways, that sometimes it feels like it wasn't worth it and like this is a risk I never want to take again. But I know that eventually I will take risks again and be able to move on from it all. Today, I let go of the final piece that I could that reminds me of that relationship, and I left it out with a note saying, "Take it if you want it. I hope it makes you as happy as it once did me."

I doubt anybody will think anything of that note, or consider the thought on my part that really went into it. But somehow, it matters to me that I left it with a note like that. Because even though I was naive and deceived and misguided, I was still happy then. Which is perhaps why its so hard to let go of it all. I learned so much, but I made so many mistakes. And I don't honestly think that what I got out of it as far as experience and realization was worth the pain that I'm dealing with now as a result.

I may not be solely responsible for the mess that resulted, but I take responsibility for it anyway, and I do it for two reasons. First, I know that if I didn't, nobody else would either. And second, because I've become stronger as a result of all of this. It may have been a hell that I fought through, and I'm still coming to terms with it, but I know that I am capable of dealing with it now. Over a year ago, several months before this all began, I said "I never realized before last night how scared I was of getting hurt." I guess I've gotten over that fear, but I never want to be hurt like that again. And I really would give anything to go back to a year ago and just change that one decision. Anything.

Ethical Dilemma

We're always told about those situations where you have to choose between what's right and what's tempting. And we face plenty of those every day. But every once in a while, we strike one that really is confusing. That's where I am now. What's better? I know what any lecturer would tell me on the matter, and I know what any friend would say.

So what do I do? Do I go with the moral obligation or do I go with the politeness? How do I even begin making the decision? It's not a simple line--it's all grey. What is ultimately the right decision? What will allow everything to turn out for the best? I don't know. That's the problem. If I knew, I would have done it already.

It's not even a matter of pros and cons or right and wrong. And being the person I am, I'm most likely to sit around and not do anything until its too late. Which is precisely what I have been working to avoid. So do I take action? Do I try to play the system? Or do I let things go and see how it all turns out. I have to make a decision before its too late, and I'm afraid of messing it all up...

Numbness

Physical pain. We all experience it in one form or another, for one reason or another. And we all eventually move on from it. What's fascinating about that though, is how the brain reacts to it. Now, I don't know the science of it or any of that, but the sheer psychology that is behind the sensation of pain is absolutely intriguing.

We've all had our moments of pain, be it a stubbed toe or a head-splitting headache, that we've though, "I hope that never ever happens again." Those are the moments of absolutely intolerable pain, seemingly, which make us resent taking risks that may lead to a repeat performance. Yet somehow, we take the risks again and again. Even if I know that running five miles after not working out for a while is not only going to make my stomach haywire for the next hour but also cause my legs to hurt miserably the next morning, I still do it occasionally.

Remembered pain never carries the same effects as the original did. We may feel a tension in a bone we broke, or a dull throbbing of a joint that periodically acts up, even if it is fine at present. The memory of a hurting body is never anywhere near as severe as the original pain that we experienced. The brain somehow seems to numb it, to black out the most miserable moments.

After all, if we could remember each ache or shooting pain, would we ever be willing to move, at risk of experiencing that again? Probably not. Yet we go on with out lives, most often seemingly unaware of the pain we may be risking. How else could this be possible if the memory of it was not thus dulled? The more time passes, the less power that thought holds over us, as well. The day after you have stitches taken out, you may be more hesitant to do whatever it is you were doing that resulted in stitches. A month later, you may be willing to try it again. After a year, it's almost as though there was no accident.

Just as memories of events fade, the memory of pain seems to likewise dissipate over time. It seems to be less and less of a big deal, until one day we can't remember at all how it felt. Sometimes we even look back on it and think that we could have toughed it out, even though it certainly didn't feel that way in the moment. Makes one wonder about the abilities of the human brain...

Caring

People often ask me why I care...about their problems, about their lives, about their statements, or their emotions. And oftentimes I am completely at a loss of what to say. But when I really sit down and think about it, it's quite simple. I am fascinated by people. They intrigue me more than anything else in the world. While on the one hand that is extremely logical, on the other, it seems perhaps overstated.

I love people's lives, I love their stories. I love everything about them. I enjoy knowing that people place their trust in me and that I can help them to work things out. But perhaps the thing I love most about it all is that when I think about other people's problems, I don't have to think about my own. The past year was full of mistakes for me. So suddenly, I'd much rather take a step back and look at the lives of those around me.

In a way, it's harder to constantly be talking to people and ignoring myself. But at the same time, I would much rather do it that way. It's less painful to myself and more rewarding as well. Worrying about other people is better than worrying about myself. And I've been told (although I don't necessarily believe it) that I am valued for this trait. It seems ironic perhaps, that I am valued for not valuing myself. Alas, it is what it is. I prefer other people's lives and stories to my own. I prefer to be a board for them to bounce ideas off of rather than throwing thoughts at them. It's merely the way I am. And I guess I've come to like it that way.

Routine

So after 23 days, everything finally returns to so-called normalcy. It's odd how much things can change in such a short span of time. When we return, everything is different, strange, foreign almost. But at the same time, it's as though we were never gone. The people we return to are no less exciting than they were before and the conversations we have retain their amusement.

For now, the readjustment to this previously familiar environment is providing a mild amount of entertainment. At the same time, I wonder if this next step in the journey isn't going to be only that much more grueling, exhausting, debilitating than the last one was. But who knows? Thus far, it remains in the future, and thus we can get no glimpse nor certain verification of it.

Alas, I am tired, the changes of the day have worn on me, and it leads to a perpetuation of fatigue. So now I will proceed to go to sleep. Or perhaps I will engage in a long-winded conversation for a while before resting. It remains to be seen. In any case, good night, and let the future hold what it may.

Children

Suddenly, I understand why people have children. It is a psychological need for change. You grow up, you get married, and everything in your life stops changing. Before you had school, and you would look forward to the day you got out of school and into a job in the real world. Before, you had short-lived relationships or were single, on and off. But all of a sudden, everything stops changing. Life becomes routine.

So then you look for change. You start seeking something to look forward to, something exciting, interesting, something different. Then you take the only logical next step as dictated by society, you have children. At that point, you not only have someone to love you and to love, unconditionally, but you also have another life in yours, someone who you will watch changing over the next 18 years at least, and even after that although to a lesser extent. It brings diversity into a life that has begun to be routine.

It all makes sense. Our lives become seemingly pointless. Children give us something, or rather someone, to live for. So in time, no matter how successful I may or may not be, I will probably end up succumbing to the standard. I will find myself in a content, but not exciting marriage, and decide to have children, merely because it is the logical step and there is nowhere further for me to go in my life. Perhaps I envy those who can spend their entire lives and be content, always finding excitement for themselves, in the good company of friends. Alas, I am not one of them. I long for love and intimacy, and at the same time find myself sorrowful and simply bored when life stops changing. A life of normalcy, although not ideal, may be perhaps the best possible option for me, sad as that may be.

Humor

At some point, we finally come to realize that life is not a joke. We wake up and suddenly the air is no longer full of the rosy dust of romance, that the sky is no longer the twilight of perfection. Everything becomes real. And that is the day that we are most likely to lose all hope. All of a sudden, it's not funny anymore. I sometimes wonder if some people ever come to that point. Perhaps it's better to live a life of naivety, but unfortunately, it's not exactly the case in our lives most of the time.

A year ago, I lost all sight of what really matters in life. I become distracted by petty nonsense and illusory happiness. And even now, I'm only just beginning to find my way again. I don't know how much more I can take of this, yet I'm still here, still trying to see more clearly. Life isn't that simple. Not every poem rhymes. Not every story has a beginning, middle, and end. Sometimes, things just don't make sense. Here I am, recovering from this jarring realization.

My life would make for a hilarious plot-line if it was a movie. But it's not--it's my life. It involves not flat characters with lines that follow a story, but real people, with real emotions, desires, faults, and personalities. Suddenly, it's no longer funny. Here I am again, at the line of whether any of it even makes the least amount of sense anymore. And it doesn't, and I know it. But I'm still trying to understand it, to come to terms with it.

Why do I still try? In all honesty, I don't even know. Partially out of habit, partially out of curiosity. Any more than that? Perhaps. If I knew, I'd answer. It's not worth it, none of it is. But we still try, we find reason after reason to keep trying. I don't know where I was going with this. Maybe I wasn't going anywhere...that's actually more likely. Oh well, I guess that's how it works sometimes, if not all of the time.

Happiness

Today, I was reading MLIA (My Life Is Average) for the first time in many, many months. Needless to say, I feel happy. It's always those small, random, crazy moments that make us laugh. So I came to a couple of conclusions. Maybe, instead of trying to make myself happy, I should start making other people happy, and hopefully my own happiness will come along with that.

It made sense, so I decided that I'm going to do more crazy things from now on. I've already been planning an invasion of a pharmacy for several weeks, so I just have to add to the list. There's a couple of ideas that I've got in mind, but those are going to remain surprises, at least for now. I've also decided to do something really awesome with the bedroom...and I'll see exactly how that turns out.

I'm not really sure yet just where I'm going to take this yet, but I know that it'll be fun. Lately, I've become too used to oppressive and mundane topics, so I think that a change is in order. This will be the start of it all. Who knows? Maybe it'll help me feel better when I most need it. And at the very least, it should be a good distraction from the momentous issues that seem to be forever pressing down on our shoulders. Either way, get ready for a bit of fun!

Quality

Recently, I have been reading Lila by Robert Pirsig. It's been an interesting read, although comparatively slow because of the philosophical implications of the content. One of the primary ideas that the first 150 pages discuss is that of Quality (yes, with a capital Q). An example that really struck me was how a man can be so sad for seemingly no reason in a good environment, but so happy in a bad environment.

The explanation lay in the classification of Quality into two categories: Dynamic quality and static quality. Dynamic quality is the satisfaction we get from novelty. When we are in any sort of changed location or situation, our mood may improve because of the interest of unfamiliar surroundings. Static quality is something that we have established over time. It is a set of values that lack the luster of Dynamic quality but are still held in high regard by us. The everyday assortment of tasty food and pleasant weather in the spring is a part of static quality--it is not new, and thus does not excite us. In a way, we take it for granted, but it is nonetheless enjoyable.

I guess it's pretty clear how this translates into real life. It determines how we value things, whether we are happy in a certain situation or not. I'd never thought of it this way before, but looking around me at my life right now, I can see it so clearly. If nothing more, this emphasizes the importance of variety to allow for an increase in Dynamic quality in our lives.

My mind is rather removed from what I write right now, although I did find that point to be of significant interest. Alas, I grow tired of that which is around me and look forward to the impending change in surroundings. I know that I will grow tired of that rather quickly as well, but at least it will be a relief for a short period.

Repression

In talking to one of my closest friends today, I realized something fundamental. I am a master of repression. Today, I fulfilled my New Year's resolution--the only one I made. I told the truth about a specific occurrence in my life. I came clean, and filled in the essential gap for someone in their understanding of me. And I also came to the conclusion that what I experienced when I finally realized the effect this event had had on my life was a release of all of the emotions I had been repressing since that day.

It was hard though. I spent half an hour at least planning to say it. And then another ten minutes at least, sitting in silence, her waiting for me to say it, just trying to get up the courage to utter the words I knew were coming. I knew I was going to say them, I knew the exact words that were going to come out, but I couldn't open my lips. I was absolutely incapable of saying them. My heart was racing. My palms were sweaty. I was looking away from her. I was afraid.

Why is it so hard to say something? Why is it so hard to speak the words? Saying it makes it more real. Yes, that's part of it. I wasn't afraid of being judged by her, so that wasn't a factor. But the "impending reality" of it doesn't explain why my heart was beating the way it was. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had kept this locked up for many months now. I don't know. Just like I'm still trying to figure out my reaction to what it was, I'm trying to figure out why it was so hard to say anything about it.

But one thing I have learned from all of this is that life goes on. It's always when we're in the middle of hell that we forget about this, and of course that's when we need it most. Things happen, and they rarely ever go as planned. We have no choice then but to deal with them and move on. Life happens. Here's a much-needed toast to making it through the hell that our life sometimes becomes, and may all who need it gather strength from knowing that it will be alright.

Definitely Incoherent

Ugh. So I just got back from the dentist. And I left home at 4 pm. Today was not exactly the most pleasant day. I'm tired. I had at least 7 shots stuck into my jaws, and still can't feel a thing. I also can't feel half of my nose. Which is really unpleasant. So please, don't expect anything that I write today to make even the least amount of sense.

Right now, life is a bit of a mess. And it's not just today. This stupid last week of nothingness. Everything would be simpler if it wasn't for this last week. People are stuck between wanting it to extend further and wanting it to end. Lives have been roller-coasters and communication has been trivial at best. It's wearing on me. Or rather, it's wearing on everyone, and I'm feeling the effects of it on myself and on others.

Also, I somehow managed to convince myself today that I am an emotional masochist. I'm still not quite sure how I pulled that one off. Oh well, I don't even care right now. I just want this damn week to be over already and move on with life. It's all too confusing this way, and lines get blurry and the world becomes a mess. Then again, when is it not? I'm sorry. I think all of that just made absolutely no sense. So I'll stop trying. Good night.

Plethora

I have random, unrelated thoughts moving through my mind right now, so I have a feeling this post will be rather disjointed and possibly incoherent. That's alright. Hopefully it will make at least enough sense that I do not appear insane.

"Unless it is mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it's a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life-love should not be one of them" (Unknown). I definitely believe it, but I sure as hell don't live by it. That's the problem with many things in my life. The battle between idealism and reality. Things never go the way we plan or want, so sometimes we just give up on the idea of planning.

I was taught never to settle.
I have learned to take what I can get.
That thought struck me at some point yesterday, but I didn't write about it then. I guess that goes back to the whole struggle between what we want and what actually happens. But after all of the sermons about never accepting less than the best and whatnot, it never works out that way in life. So we take whatever the hell comes at us, even if its infinitely less than ideal, and go with it as well as we can. That's life for you.

"Intelligent people are the hardest to love." Someone I know rather well said that, and unfortunately it's true. Not only are they the hardest to love, but also the hardest to talk to, the hardest to live with, and the hardest to understand. The fact that I've observed this all around me in real life really doesn't make me any more inclined to talk to people at all. That just reduces the faith I have in the human race, which is already quite minimal at present.

I dislike people, but I know that I need them. I've quite clearly seen the effects of being removed from social company for extended periods of time, and it never ends well. Yet even in the middle of such periods, when I realize that I need human contact, I am loath to talk to anyone, to accept company, or discuss anything whatsoever. It's those periods of solitude that I love and hate most of all.

I've learned to use my eyes. They'll say the things that my lips never will. I rarely have anything to say, particularly when listening to an individual tell their story. My eyes will convey everything necessary--be it fascination, pity, sympathy, or whatever else. The most you could get out of my mouth at a similar point may be "wow," or "interesting." Never listen to what I say, look at my eyes and see what they have to tell. That's how I've learned to communicate. That's also why I'm never afraid to look someone in the eyes. Where it makes others uncomfortable, such an interaction is my domain, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

Alright, I'll stop before I go too deep and start spouting various thoughts that were not meant to be seen. That was pretty scattered, although some thoughts connect and others don't, I don't much care, not right now. If nothing more, that was at least a partial glimpse into my mind, the thoughts that flit around inside my head. Interpret at will.

But You Don't Know

But you don't know that even as I say those words, my soul crushes a little bit further.

But you don't know that as you speak of pain, my own body is wilting.

But you don't know that even as I guide you, I flounder deeper into the mire.

And you will never know. You will never see the thoughts that hide behind my eyes. You will never read the stories that gather behind my lips. You will never feel the emotion that stops just short of my fingertips.

I'm sorry. For everything.

Dreams

Have you ever woken up with tears in your eyes?

I have. This morning. I woke up curled up, sobbing, and as soon as I opened my eyes, I realized that I was crying, too. It carries over the dream I was having, which ended with me on the floor, tears streaming down my face at a ridiculous rate. It was one of those convoluted nightmares, where you aren't even aware of the fact that it isn't real until you wake up. My mother and my childhood best friend had turned against me, thrown me on the floor, beaten me down to submission, until I had to plead to be spared.

I can definitely see where it reflects my life, although some of the aspects still puzzle me. The sheer experience of waking up from a dream like that though, is quite terrifying. Needless to say, I did not get enough sleep. Nor was it, for that matter, the least bit restful. Looking back on it is strangely calming, relaxing, almost soothing. It's confusing. I'm still trying to piece together not only what it represents in my life, but this reaction to it--from the initial shaking horror to this quietude that has now set in.

The first day and a half of this new year have already been eventful and interesting enough. I can only imagine what is yet to come. I'm scared of what lies ahead. I'm afraid that I will make the same mistakes I did before, or that I will let a million more chances pass me by like I did last year. That's also partially because I've already spent several hours this morning reflecting on May of 2009. This is directed to one specific individual, who may or may not ever read this: that month was the most intense, fascinating month of my life. It is also the one I am struggling to deal with, full of decisions and consequences that I am still having difficulty accepting even now, over six months later. Don't make the mistakes I did, don't let this become to you what May 2009 is to me.

I have a year of choices ahead of me, and I won't let my uncertainty keep me from accomplishing the things I aspire to. I'm still rather caught up in the "new year, fresh start" attitude at present, so forgive me for my last three posts being unceasingly focused on that. But already, I can see how I have changed--I'm done just going along with things, and I'm willing to stand up for what I believe finally, even when it may conflict with the opinions of my friends. I've changed. In part for the worse and in part for the better, and I will continue to change. This year is for me to get better, not sink down like I did in the last. And I'm still mulling over the specifics of my dream, trying to understand it, just like I'm dealing with last year. It's getting better. Everything will be alright, I've learned that life goes on. Sometimes, that's the only thing keeping us all going, and the simplicity and certainty is what helps us get through it all.

Here's To...Everything

They say that the way you meet the new year is the way you'll spend it. Well, this means that I will spend the year full of anticipation, excitement and with a smile on my face. That I will be glad of all the people around me and thankful for all of the lessons I've learned. That I will move forward from the past and embrace change in the future. And perhaps most importantly, that I will never lose hope, never give up, never let the world drag me down. Here's to the new year: 2010. Let's make it the beginning of something wonderful!

Certainly that is an exaggerated vision for how the year will turn out. Of course I won't be perfectly happy or eternally grateful and optimistic. But this is how I start out the year, and that is how I plan to continue it...at least to the best of my ability. I don't doubt that this year will be no less full of ups and downs than the last one. Only this time, I'm going to do things differently.

I'll make this brief, since it's early in the morning and everyone around me has gone to bed. But right now, as of this day, I'm starting fresh. It's a clean slate. All of the mistakes I've made before haven't disappeared, nor has their effect on my life, but I am moving past them. From today on, things change. Perhaps the coming of a new year doesn't really mean anything but is merely the arbitrary definition of time passing before us, but that doesn't mean that I can't take it and use it in my life. Here's to a new beginning. Happy New Year!