Remember when you were little and had those tests where you're given a sentence and there is a blank, so you have to put down the right word to make it make sense? It was another way of testing that you knew something without having you write a pargraph about it. Or maybe such things were designed to make it look like something different to do, some supposedly new and original way to test what you managed to memorize over the course of a week without making it look like too many things of the same sort at once.
When answering those you always wondered what exactly were they looking for. Was 'nucleic acid' enough, or was it 'DNA' specifically that they were looking for? Some teachers would be picky and would only accept one specific word, so even if you said it was plural and they wanted it to be singular, they wouldn't accept it. Others would let you get away with things more specific or more general than they were looking for. How easy or hard such questions were was almost always more dependent on the teacher than the subject at hand. As always, it was about your audience.
If you have ever taken a writing class, you will have been told that one of the first things you have to take into account when writing, beyond the purpose, is the audience. In short, who you have to prove something to, who you have to impress. When answering questions, stating your mind, the question always comes down to who you're answering to, who is watching you, whose approval you're trying to gain.
For some people, you are not satisfied with anything less than perfection. Each word must be perfect because you do not want them to misunderstand. If something is not quite right, it must be amended and fixed until you can be absolutely certain you are precisely right. For other people, it doesn't matter quite so much. If you say you're just fine and they interpret that as happy, so much the better for them if that's the answer they're looking for. The question is one of where the line lies. Sometimes you make a mistake and end up being right. Certain things in these blanks act as triggers that act far beyond the confines of the single interaction implied by the blank. Or the conversation.
You go through life filling in the blanks that come up. Sometimes you can explicitly control who sees what, other times you can't. There are days when you don't know what to say or what to do, when you really have no idea what to fill the blank with. And then you throw down something, anything, just in case you happen upon something acceptable, sometimes more vague than you know is right but hoping against hope that it will be acceptable, that it will be enough, that maybe, just maybe you'll get lucky and your answer will be adequate.
Sometimes things do work out. There are days when you manage to spin a tale you're not sure how to tell, or ask a question you weren't sure whether or not you wanted to ask, or find the perfect word to say even when you didn't know what it was. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes it does. On the days when it doesn't, sometimes all you can do is just hold on, just keep on filling out those blanks because every time you neglect to answer one just because you don't know, you lose one more chance at being right. One more chance at making things better. One more chance at making it all work.
After all, one chance is all it takes sometimes.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Worth
It's one of those days. One of those days when I can't focus or concentrate or really make sense of anything. The prospect of tomorrow does not appeal to me in the least (I wish it was only because it was a Monday). And I can't quite make enough sense of certain things to give people answers they deserve or figure out how to get other things done.
And it's days like this that make me wonder if the past two and a half years have been worth it. To be fair, I've also asked that of the past month or the past [what is it now?] eight or so. Somehow I generally come to the same conclusion. Yes, yes it has. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. It'd be easier if I knew it wasn't because there would be something tangible that I would know I should change.
But as is, it's one of those good-things-with-bad-days. And the bad days really suck. As expected. But the good days are worth it. It's just really hard to remember that sometimes, like when nothing makes sense and all you want is to curl up in bed and not wake up for a month. That's mostly sleep-deprivation talking right now. I'm going to go fix that shortly...apologies for having nothing of value to say.
And it's days like this that make me wonder if the past two and a half years have been worth it. To be fair, I've also asked that of the past month or the past [what is it now?] eight or so. Somehow I generally come to the same conclusion. Yes, yes it has. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. It'd be easier if I knew it wasn't because there would be something tangible that I would know I should change.
But as is, it's one of those good-things-with-bad-days. And the bad days really suck. As expected. But the good days are worth it. It's just really hard to remember that sometimes, like when nothing makes sense and all you want is to curl up in bed and not wake up for a month. That's mostly sleep-deprivation talking right now. I'm going to go fix that shortly...apologies for having nothing of value to say.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Confessions
I carry people's stories like a traveler with an assortment of parcels. Every person I talk to, I want to know about. The things I figure out are then sorted into the cabinets of my mind, each finding its niche and comparing to what I thought of the individual before. And like these oddly shaped parcels, I carry these stories and these secrets on my own journey. I try to understand each person as they are, accept each story the way it was told me.
I sometimes sort through these different pieces of people again and again until I feel like I know it forward and backward and could recognize the truth upside down amidst the other notions I get. Then every time I see a given person, I think of their stories. I remember the things that most people don't know. I try to understand them and their actions within the context of these things I found out about them.
I occasionally spend entire days thinking about one person in particular because of something I recently learned about them. I don't do it to be creepy or obsessive, but that's how I get to know someone. I don't want to simply have a conglomerate of facts in my mind that I'm supposed to rely on to understand how a person feels and what they do. I try to piece them together, see how they blend into the individual before me who makes these decisions and thinks these thoughts.
I don't like people's stories so much to distract from myself. The thing they do for me is give a different perspective on life. They let me see pieces of the world from a vantage point I may never have considered. I live vicariously through every story I have ever been told as I reflect on experiences I have never had and emotions I have never felt.
It's easy for me to throw truths down at a blank page. Where nobody will ever read them and they're only mine to know. In such a way that they serve only as reflections and not as threats. But saying them out loud, admitting them to people, that's where I have problems. Some of the parcels I carry are indeed my own. They tell stories that nobody has ever heard, the thoughts that I don't want anybody to know I have thought. Some are momentary, foolish reactions to silly things, others are recurring fears and anxieties that I won't say anything about.
Sometimes I give away a parcel or two of my own to someone who takes the time to listen. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's not. I let people who are practically strangers walk away with some of my most intimate thoughts and nothing more. It's sometimes easier to part with the truth before people who don't know you that well. Some truths I don't tell at all.
For those who have ever told me things the rest of the world doesn't know: I'll sit there and I'll wonder. And sometimes you might see me just looking at you and thinking. This is how I get to know people. Not by spending days doing silly things and exchanging chatter about siblings and relatives and minor details but by listening to the things they say that sometimes plague them in the night or the experiences that they can't always admit to but know to hurt. I want to know not only what everyone sees but also the things that shape it that they don't get to know. That's why I'm so willing to listen and why I'll occasionally get over my fear of people and actually ask. I will apologize now in case I push too far.
For those who want the parcels I'm afraid to give: don't expect me to answer right off the top. I at least need a little bit of time to process it and prepare myself when it feels like I'm being interrogated. I don't lie intentionally. I'm just afraid of what happens if I admit to the truth. Give me time and let me confess to it myself. I've gotten better about that. Some answers you may never get from me. Or maybe that will change in the future and you will. Either way, there are times when I won't say certain things and it's not because of you. I will hardly ever admit when I'm scared because of this because it's my own battle and sometimes I'll pretend to be okay and other times I'll pass it off as something else. That's just the way that situation works. I'm sorry if that hurts.
I'm sorry that I'm not that open. I'm sorry that some days I'm too afraid of the truth to tell it to myself not to mention someone else. I'm sorry that I doubt and fear and wonder because I can't help myself and I'm sorry that I don't tell you because some things I feel like I need to handle by myself. I'm sorry I'm so bad at this and I'm sorry that I make it hurt. But that's all I have to confess.
I sometimes sort through these different pieces of people again and again until I feel like I know it forward and backward and could recognize the truth upside down amidst the other notions I get. Then every time I see a given person, I think of their stories. I remember the things that most people don't know. I try to understand them and their actions within the context of these things I found out about them.
I occasionally spend entire days thinking about one person in particular because of something I recently learned about them. I don't do it to be creepy or obsessive, but that's how I get to know someone. I don't want to simply have a conglomerate of facts in my mind that I'm supposed to rely on to understand how a person feels and what they do. I try to piece them together, see how they blend into the individual before me who makes these decisions and thinks these thoughts.
I don't like people's stories so much to distract from myself. The thing they do for me is give a different perspective on life. They let me see pieces of the world from a vantage point I may never have considered. I live vicariously through every story I have ever been told as I reflect on experiences I have never had and emotions I have never felt.
It's easy for me to throw truths down at a blank page. Where nobody will ever read them and they're only mine to know. In such a way that they serve only as reflections and not as threats. But saying them out loud, admitting them to people, that's where I have problems. Some of the parcels I carry are indeed my own. They tell stories that nobody has ever heard, the thoughts that I don't want anybody to know I have thought. Some are momentary, foolish reactions to silly things, others are recurring fears and anxieties that I won't say anything about.
Sometimes I give away a parcel or two of my own to someone who takes the time to listen. Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it's not. I let people who are practically strangers walk away with some of my most intimate thoughts and nothing more. It's sometimes easier to part with the truth before people who don't know you that well. Some truths I don't tell at all.
For those who have ever told me things the rest of the world doesn't know: I'll sit there and I'll wonder. And sometimes you might see me just looking at you and thinking. This is how I get to know people. Not by spending days doing silly things and exchanging chatter about siblings and relatives and minor details but by listening to the things they say that sometimes plague them in the night or the experiences that they can't always admit to but know to hurt. I want to know not only what everyone sees but also the things that shape it that they don't get to know. That's why I'm so willing to listen and why I'll occasionally get over my fear of people and actually ask. I will apologize now in case I push too far.
For those who want the parcels I'm afraid to give: don't expect me to answer right off the top. I at least need a little bit of time to process it and prepare myself when it feels like I'm being interrogated. I don't lie intentionally. I'm just afraid of what happens if I admit to the truth. Give me time and let me confess to it myself. I've gotten better about that. Some answers you may never get from me. Or maybe that will change in the future and you will. Either way, there are times when I won't say certain things and it's not because of you. I will hardly ever admit when I'm scared because of this because it's my own battle and sometimes I'll pretend to be okay and other times I'll pass it off as something else. That's just the way that situation works. I'm sorry if that hurts.
I'm sorry that I'm not that open. I'm sorry that some days I'm too afraid of the truth to tell it to myself not to mention someone else. I'm sorry that I doubt and fear and wonder because I can't help myself and I'm sorry that I don't tell you because some things I feel like I need to handle by myself. I'm sorry I'm so bad at this and I'm sorry that I make it hurt. But that's all I have to confess.
Friday, February 25, 2011
5940
That's how many words it took. Six and a half hours later, I'd rewritten something that had started over a year ago as a page-long piece. I haven't reread it since I wrote it nor do I have any desire to. Somehow, it was that much easier to write at odd hours of the morning when I was too numb to feel what I was saying, which is quite possibly the only reason I wrote any of what I did. Going back and reading it would be the hard part. I don't want to relive everything that was spewed out into that piece.
I don't know what purpose it even serves. I tried to write down everything so that I would have some semblance of an answer, some greater acceptance or understanding, but I'm lacking in that. Maybe I have to read it to get anything out of it. I know, it makes more sense that way. That doesn't mean I have any desire to do that right now, though. That's why I want someone to read it and say something about any piece of it, make me go back and reread a given paragraph so that I had somewhere to start. But it's not exactly something that I can shove at most people and expect them to patiently read through (because 5940 words isn't so few).
I went to bed at seven this morning. Woke up at ten. I don't do very well with this concept of sleeping in. I've really never been very good at it. Days like today are the ones where this bites me in the ass. I realized last night, too, that this would happen, but some greater part of me overruled that and determined that I couldn't sleep until I was done. So I didn't. I think it was probably the right way to write it, anyway. I needed to be in that numb, confused state to put the words down. Otherwise it wouldn't have actually made its way into text.
Maybe I'll get something out of this. Maybe I won't. If anybody wants to read this document (or not quite document, as the case may be), just ask. Permission may or may not be granted, but I really would like feedback, so I should leave it open at least to some extent. Sorry if this doesn't make perfect sense...I'm still thorougly tired.
I don't know what purpose it even serves. I tried to write down everything so that I would have some semblance of an answer, some greater acceptance or understanding, but I'm lacking in that. Maybe I have to read it to get anything out of it. I know, it makes more sense that way. That doesn't mean I have any desire to do that right now, though. That's why I want someone to read it and say something about any piece of it, make me go back and reread a given paragraph so that I had somewhere to start. But it's not exactly something that I can shove at most people and expect them to patiently read through (because 5940 words isn't so few).
I went to bed at seven this morning. Woke up at ten. I don't do very well with this concept of sleeping in. I've really never been very good at it. Days like today are the ones where this bites me in the ass. I realized last night, too, that this would happen, but some greater part of me overruled that and determined that I couldn't sleep until I was done. So I didn't. I think it was probably the right way to write it, anyway. I needed to be in that numb, confused state to put the words down. Otherwise it wouldn't have actually made its way into text.
Maybe I'll get something out of this. Maybe I won't. If anybody wants to read this document (or not quite document, as the case may be), just ask. Permission may or may not be granted, but I really would like feedback, so I should leave it open at least to some extent. Sorry if this doesn't make perfect sense...I'm still thorougly tired.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Truth
It's been a while since I've written a good post and an even longer while since I've written the truth. Maybe. No, actually I think it's the other way around. Regardless, I think it's time for me to write something good and worthwhile. To a point, the reason is that I have things to say, even though I'm afraid to say them and am not sure how to write such things down. But I guess I have to try and hope they won't hurt too much.
I can't say yes. I mean, I can. But I'm not going to. And it hurts that I can't because I want to and you want to and this is all just stupid and ridiculous. I guess that's why they say such things complicate relationships. And then sometimes, sometimes I worry that things like this are the reason that it's not going to work. Because this is probably the first time I'm standing really firmly on something and every time I say no it hurts you and I'm a little bit less resolute and more angry at myself for letting it affect me.
Except that I can't expect it to not affect me because that's just the way we are and that's the way we hurt. Which sounds melodramatic. But true. It seems so reasonable that after all of this, things will stop hurting because it won't be problematic anymore and I won't feel persecuted for making these decisions. But in the meantime I still do. More than that, I'm afraid that if not this, there will always be other things. If not this, maybe that; if not one thing, it will be another.
I'm hoping that we do end up working this out. That this actually ends up hurting less and we can be okay just compromising completely about some things. But I'm afraid that we'll end up just living through it, just barely hanging on until it's over and then not worrying about this particular problem at that point. Because then we're going to find other problems and other things that don't seem to work and I don't want to fall apart over something like that.
We get hurt easily, both of us. We get hurt when one doesn't want to do this or that but the other does. I'm fairly sure it's not a conscious decision, it's just this subconscious disappointment that neither of us can help and hurts us both. Neither of us is going to change our preference in this case, and I don't want either of us to stop being vocal about it just because we disagree. I don't know how to deal with it or work through it, but I'm going to keep trying. I really hope this works out in the end.
I can't say yes. I mean, I can. But I'm not going to. And it hurts that I can't because I want to and you want to and this is all just stupid and ridiculous. I guess that's why they say such things complicate relationships. And then sometimes, sometimes I worry that things like this are the reason that it's not going to work. Because this is probably the first time I'm standing really firmly on something and every time I say no it hurts you and I'm a little bit less resolute and more angry at myself for letting it affect me.
Except that I can't expect it to not affect me because that's just the way we are and that's the way we hurt. Which sounds melodramatic. But true. It seems so reasonable that after all of this, things will stop hurting because it won't be problematic anymore and I won't feel persecuted for making these decisions. But in the meantime I still do. More than that, I'm afraid that if not this, there will always be other things. If not this, maybe that; if not one thing, it will be another.
I'm hoping that we do end up working this out. That this actually ends up hurting less and we can be okay just compromising completely about some things. But I'm afraid that we'll end up just living through it, just barely hanging on until it's over and then not worrying about this particular problem at that point. Because then we're going to find other problems and other things that don't seem to work and I don't want to fall apart over something like that.
We get hurt easily, both of us. We get hurt when one doesn't want to do this or that but the other does. I'm fairly sure it's not a conscious decision, it's just this subconscious disappointment that neither of us can help and hurts us both. Neither of us is going to change our preference in this case, and I don't want either of us to stop being vocal about it just because we disagree. I don't know how to deal with it or work through it, but I'm going to keep trying. I really hope this works out in the end.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Learn
When will I ever learn my goddamn lesson? Clearly not right now, given that it is 11:35 pm that I am starting this post and have not yet written anything today. This is frustrating. The idea of blogging completely slipped my mind. I am still not caught up on the work I have to do for tomorrow, and life in general is bothering me as a whole.
So yeah. I'm in a lovely place right now. That was sarcastic, by the way, in case you couldn't tell. I'm sorry, I'm just tired right now and need to get this done so that I can move on to other work that actually matters that needs to be done before I go to sleep. Not that I'm going to go to sleep at a reasonable hour anyway, that's just not the way things have been lately.
This is still a mess. Yes, all of this. I don't even know what more to say about it than that. I'm sick, and I'm tired of feeling persecuted wherever I go by just about anyone I see. I'm just sick of it. Whatever. But there's 102 days left and then it's all over (thank goodness). I'm just throwing thoughts at the page now. Hopefully I'll have something worthwhile tomorrow. Sorry that hasn't been a trend lately.
So yeah. I'm in a lovely place right now. That was sarcastic, by the way, in case you couldn't tell. I'm sorry, I'm just tired right now and need to get this done so that I can move on to other work that actually matters that needs to be done before I go to sleep. Not that I'm going to go to sleep at a reasonable hour anyway, that's just not the way things have been lately.
This is still a mess. Yes, all of this. I don't even know what more to say about it than that. I'm sick, and I'm tired of feeling persecuted wherever I go by just about anyone I see. I'm just sick of it. Whatever. But there's 102 days left and then it's all over (thank goodness). I'm just throwing thoughts at the page now. Hopefully I'll have something worthwhile tomorrow. Sorry that hasn't been a trend lately.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Bleh
It's just another one of those days. I just really don't want to write. I've ranted and raved and cried and good god I'm so fucking sick of this shit. Sorry, I'm going to stop swearing now. I only really put that sentence there because I needed to fill the space. So here I am, filling up the space because, once again, I really don't want to write.
I don't really know what else to say. I'm not sure why I maintain this silly limit for myself, but it's something about consistency or some such. I've written about it before, I think. I don't know if I've ever mentioned directly what the minimum is or why I picked it. Hell, I don't actually know why I picked it at all. I just follow it though, because most of the time it seems to work.
I'm avoiding work I'm supposed to be doing right now. I don't really care. It's not like it even matters at this point. What I'm really tired of right now is not having options. Because this place has made me feel like I had options to a point...and now that I've had time to actually think about it, I realize that there's absolutely nothing I can do that is simply my own. I'm tired of following this path. Maybe I'll be able to find a new one. Maybe not. It's worth a try, regardless.
I don't really know what else to say. I'm not sure why I maintain this silly limit for myself, but it's something about consistency or some such. I've written about it before, I think. I don't know if I've ever mentioned directly what the minimum is or why I picked it. Hell, I don't actually know why I picked it at all. I just follow it though, because most of the time it seems to work.
I'm avoiding work I'm supposed to be doing right now. I don't really care. It's not like it even matters at this point. What I'm really tired of right now is not having options. Because this place has made me feel like I had options to a point...and now that I've had time to actually think about it, I realize that there's absolutely nothing I can do that is simply my own. I'm tired of following this path. Maybe I'll be able to find a new one. Maybe not. It's worth a try, regardless.
Monday, February 21, 2011
On Returns
Well, I'm back. Whether I want to be or not is a different question, one to which I honestly don't have an answer right now. There are things here I'm glad to have back, or more so people than things, but you get the idea. On the other hand, there is any number of things I don't want to deal with. And none of those are helping the pre-existing neurotic tendencies that I am prone to already.
So what more do I have to say now? I'm not entirely certain. I feel like I'm out of things to say and still have another paragraph and a half to write here. I've got other things on my mind and other things to be doing right now that don't involve crafting a blog post based on absolutely nothing worth writing about. And yet I'm still trying to pull something out of thin air here.
One hundred and four days. That's how much longer I have to put up with this nonsense. My conservative estimate for how long it's going to take me to calm down even a little bit is possibly around a month. So that leaves a possible seventy-four days to attempt to enjoy. And I'm fairly certain they won't be back to normal or alright yet. But at least that's all that's left. At least once that's over it'll really be over. I can't wait.
So what more do I have to say now? I'm not entirely certain. I feel like I'm out of things to say and still have another paragraph and a half to write here. I've got other things on my mind and other things to be doing right now that don't involve crafting a blog post based on absolutely nothing worth writing about. And yet I'm still trying to pull something out of thin air here.
One hundred and four days. That's how much longer I have to put up with this nonsense. My conservative estimate for how long it's going to take me to calm down even a little bit is possibly around a month. So that leaves a possible seventy-four days to attempt to enjoy. And I'm fairly certain they won't be back to normal or alright yet. But at least that's all that's left. At least once that's over it'll really be over. I can't wait.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Relating Funny Affairs
It's been a long day. It's also been fairly unproductive, but that's not at all unusual for this weekend, and I don't object terribly. It's been unusual in any number of ways, because this combination of people and places is something I'm still trying to wrap my head around. I'll get there eventually, it's just a bit amusing at present. While on the subject of amusing things, a particular incident comes to mind that the strangest part of me wants to memorialize, so it will be related here.
Just to set the scene: it was raining and pretty cold out. So we (either you know who or you don't, but I'm not going to say any more than that) were sitting on a bench, under a canopy, along a fairly deserted path. A couple had walked by with a dog a few minutes before, but it was still raining and otherwise completely silent. And then in the middle of a kiss, we hear heavy footsteps falling.
Oops. "Good idea, keeping out of the rain." So we're sitting here, looking into the distance ahead of us, feeling more than a little bit awkward, as this guy walks by and says this. That was...odd. And thoroughly entertaining in that mildly mortifying, what-the-hell-just-happened sort of way. Regardless, it was amusing. Not to mention that the activities following that incident were just fun. So I'm really not upset about it.
On the whole, it was a pleasant day. Certainly an enjoyable, if slightly cold and wet, afternoon followed by an evening quiet enough to be appreciable. Tomorrow is going to involve a lot of catching up on the work I've been avoiding, but hopefully won't be too terrible. I guess we'll see how that goes and such, but hopefully everything will calm down and begin to resume some form of normalcy in the next couple of days (even though it's more likely to take a few weeks).
Just to set the scene: it was raining and pretty cold out. So we (either you know who or you don't, but I'm not going to say any more than that) were sitting on a bench, under a canopy, along a fairly deserted path. A couple had walked by with a dog a few minutes before, but it was still raining and otherwise completely silent. And then in the middle of a kiss, we hear heavy footsteps falling.
Oops. "Good idea, keeping out of the rain." So we're sitting here, looking into the distance ahead of us, feeling more than a little bit awkward, as this guy walks by and says this. That was...odd. And thoroughly entertaining in that mildly mortifying, what-the-hell-just-happened sort of way. Regardless, it was amusing. Not to mention that the activities following that incident were just fun. So I'm really not upset about it.
On the whole, it was a pleasant day. Certainly an enjoyable, if slightly cold and wet, afternoon followed by an evening quiet enough to be appreciable. Tomorrow is going to involve a lot of catching up on the work I've been avoiding, but hopefully won't be too terrible. I guess we'll see how that goes and such, but hopefully everything will calm down and begin to resume some form of normalcy in the next couple of days (even though it's more likely to take a few weeks).
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Tentative
I have plans for a part of this weekend. Yes, me, believe it or not, I actually have plans. Not just plans to make plans, but actual plans, ones that involve going places and seeing people and doing things. I'm amazed. Then again, I'm not the one who put them together, which probably explains why something actually got planned...But that's okay, so long as it did.
Maybe I'm just a little too uptight right now, or maybe something else is a mess in my mind, but it feels like these plans are hanging by a thread, as if when I say a single word, the spell will break and everything will fall apart. And, in case you couldn't tell, I really don't want it to. I want these plans to work because they at least reassure me that the world still exists, that I am still capable of communication, that we haven't been conquered by an alien species yet. I'm not sure how exactly the last one fits, but I assure you it does.
I want this to work. And by this I mean more than just tomorrow. I mean the rest of that and the few weeks it will undoubtedly take for things to return to normalcy and the day after tomorrow because my mind is reeling in a state of oh-my-god-what-if scenarios that end in tragedy for no reason at all. All of this jumping around and changing and alternating and not knowing what happens next nonsense has not been good for my sanity. That's the simplest way to look at it.
At this point I'm just sitting here running through the details (not that many of them exist) in my head, hoping nobody gets too angry with me and wondering how long it's going to take for one thing or another to fail or fall apart. I'm anxious, nervous, frustrated. I just want things to get back to normal. And I know it's going to take some time. So the best I can do right now is sit tight, enjoy myself as much as possible, and wait it out.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Books
Okay, I'm going to make this post as short as I allow myself to because I don't want to write right now. Big surprise, right? Note the obvious sarcasm in that. So I'm just going to go ahead and whip out a quick blog post about nothing at all that rambles and has run-ons like this one (because I have terrible grammar when I just want to stretch things out).
Admittedly, this is worse than I usually write, whether I'm distracted by something I don't want to think about or blog about or if I'm running really late and it's almost midnight and I still haven't written a word to post. Because I've been pretty good about this whole writing religiously every single day thing, and I don't really want to mess it up because of one good book.
On the whole, it's been an odd day. Days that I spend reading a lot tend to do that though. Everything else gets lost and when I look up from the book I'm in a bit of a haze because I don't really know what's going on in the real world anymore. That haze is where I am right now, so excuse me for making this so brief and worthless, but I'm going to go back to my book now, thank you very much.
Admittedly, this is worse than I usually write, whether I'm distracted by something I don't want to think about or blog about or if I'm running really late and it's almost midnight and I still haven't written a word to post. Because I've been pretty good about this whole writing religiously every single day thing, and I don't really want to mess it up because of one good book.
On the whole, it's been an odd day. Days that I spend reading a lot tend to do that though. Everything else gets lost and when I look up from the book I'm in a bit of a haze because I don't really know what's going on in the real world anymore. That haze is where I am right now, so excuse me for making this so brief and worthless, but I'm going to go back to my book now, thank you very much.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Write Me
Writing for me has always come with a unique set of challenges. I have occasional moments of brilliance (in which I stoke my ego by allowing myself to use phrases such as this) that translate to a few unfinished sentences or paragraphs on a page with nowhere to go and absolutely no purpose. So then I'm stuck here. In front of my computer. With a blank page trying to come up with something new or that unfilled page trying to reach some sort of point or purpose. And it never really gets anywhere in my experience, which is sad.
I've tried to write down my life story before. As you can imagine, it failed quite miserably. I don't know which parts to tell or how to explain them because experiences are always harder to translate into words, for me anyway. I don't know how to write myself as a character or about my life as a sequence of events. They don't all stick together in my mind, and sometimes one thing that seemed frivolous begins to feel like the most life-altering thing in the history of the world.
In short, I just don't know what to say. I don't know how to describe myself. I feel as though I know who I am, or at least am coming to a better comprehension of this as time goes on, but have no idea how to put that into words and accurately depict it. To a point, I have the same experience when trying to write about the people in my life, because it really is difficult to capture a human persona with mere words. But in writing about the people I know, I can usually just select one aspect and focus on it, bring it out and emphasize it in the circumstances in which it presents itself at the time.
When I try to describe myself though, either as a narrator through personality or as a mere character in my writing, I find that I want to compensate for every flaw I have, justify every less-than-elegant decision I have ever made, and that makes the writing seem not only unrealistic but also boring, tiring, bland. So I never really have managed to write anything that I feel depicts me accurately, even though most things I write attempt to do so at least to a certain extent.
Here's a challenge then, for anyone who will. Or rather, two challenges. First off, write me. Write something about who I am, the way you see me, my flaws and my obsessions, anything that you think fits me. Second, write yourself. I challenge you to write a piece that portrays you as accurately as you can with words, no fancy embellishments, just you. The way you see yourself. Good luck.
I've tried to write down my life story before. As you can imagine, it failed quite miserably. I don't know which parts to tell or how to explain them because experiences are always harder to translate into words, for me anyway. I don't know how to write myself as a character or about my life as a sequence of events. They don't all stick together in my mind, and sometimes one thing that seemed frivolous begins to feel like the most life-altering thing in the history of the world.
In short, I just don't know what to say. I don't know how to describe myself. I feel as though I know who I am, or at least am coming to a better comprehension of this as time goes on, but have no idea how to put that into words and accurately depict it. To a point, I have the same experience when trying to write about the people in my life, because it really is difficult to capture a human persona with mere words. But in writing about the people I know, I can usually just select one aspect and focus on it, bring it out and emphasize it in the circumstances in which it presents itself at the time.
When I try to describe myself though, either as a narrator through personality or as a mere character in my writing, I find that I want to compensate for every flaw I have, justify every less-than-elegant decision I have ever made, and that makes the writing seem not only unrealistic but also boring, tiring, bland. So I never really have managed to write anything that I feel depicts me accurately, even though most things I write attempt to do so at least to a certain extent.
Here's a challenge then, for anyone who will. Or rather, two challenges. First off, write me. Write something about who I am, the way you see me, my flaws and my obsessions, anything that you think fits me. Second, write yourself. I challenge you to write a piece that portrays you as accurately as you can with words, no fancy embellishments, just you. The way you see yourself. Good luck.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
So Happy
We all just look so effing happy
And I know to a point that's just people smiling for the picture
But it looks like we actually mean it
That's probably because we were happy. Maybe it was a small moment in the midst of larger crises or monumental events in all of our lives, but for those few seconds, we were really so happy. And it is possible that we're just putting on these masks for the camera because it seems like a funny idea and that's what your supposed to do for a camera--smile.
But I have a feeling that it's more than just that. The thing about that picture that's so radically different from any other picture I've ever been in is that I'm surrounded by people I really care about. It's not just the sort of thing where they're your friends and you like spending time with them or they're your family and you care because you've spent your life with them and are supposed to care. These are the sorts of friends I've not only laughed with but also cried with. These are people I would trust with my life.
So maybe that's why we can really be happy in this photo. Because we all have things going on in our lives. We are stressed. Things happen. Especially at this point in our lives where everything is still changing, and we have to figure out how to deal with them. But where we are at this point in our lives...we've found people around us we really love and who have helped us get through the worst of it.
That's something to be very happy about. And so we were. We were all honestly smiling. And I don't think it was just a show for the camera.
And I know to a point that's just people smiling for the picture
But it looks like we actually mean it
That's probably because we were happy. Maybe it was a small moment in the midst of larger crises or monumental events in all of our lives, but for those few seconds, we were really so happy. And it is possible that we're just putting on these masks for the camera because it seems like a funny idea and that's what your supposed to do for a camera--smile.
But I have a feeling that it's more than just that. The thing about that picture that's so radically different from any other picture I've ever been in is that I'm surrounded by people I really care about. It's not just the sort of thing where they're your friends and you like spending time with them or they're your family and you care because you've spent your life with them and are supposed to care. These are the sorts of friends I've not only laughed with but also cried with. These are people I would trust with my life.
So maybe that's why we can really be happy in this photo. Because we all have things going on in our lives. We are stressed. Things happen. Especially at this point in our lives where everything is still changing, and we have to figure out how to deal with them. But where we are at this point in our lives...we've found people around us we really love and who have helped us get through the worst of it.
That's something to be very happy about. And so we were. We were all honestly smiling. And I don't think it was just a show for the camera.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Hugs
So you just told me to write about hugs. I don't really know what to say about them, though. I love hugs. They make me happy. Especially when they're with you. Because you make me so happy and feeling you against me makes me feel secure. When you're in my arms, I know you're okay. I know I don't have to worry because in that moment, I won't let anything hurt you.
That's part of why I like hugs so much. There is a certainty about them. It is a moment in which I do have control. Or even if I don't, it is a moment when I don't need to. It's one of those moments I'm not going to be worrying about you because I know that I can do literally everything in my power to make things okay, to make them right, or at least to help you when I can't fix anything.
I like being next to you, and being with you, and knowing that it's okay. And sometimes I guess I forget how to function in a certain setting without you. Because walking a hundred meters away, I realize that you're not here, and I can't work, and I don't know what to do with myself because I've forgotten what it is to get things done when you're not next to me.
That's the weird thing is that this didn't really hit me until I saw you again and held you in my arms again...and then I remembered how much I missed you. So here I am, waiting impatiently to see you again. Wondering when I can next hold you in my arms. Hoping that it's not going to be too long before your head fits perfectly against my shoulder again.
That's part of why I like hugs so much. There is a certainty about them. It is a moment in which I do have control. Or even if I don't, it is a moment when I don't need to. It's one of those moments I'm not going to be worrying about you because I know that I can do literally everything in my power to make things okay, to make them right, or at least to help you when I can't fix anything.
I like being next to you, and being with you, and knowing that it's okay. And sometimes I guess I forget how to function in a certain setting without you. Because walking a hundred meters away, I realize that you're not here, and I can't work, and I don't know what to do with myself because I've forgotten what it is to get things done when you're not next to me.
That's the weird thing is that this didn't really hit me until I saw you again and held you in my arms again...and then I remembered how much I missed you. So here I am, waiting impatiently to see you again. Wondering when I can next hold you in my arms. Hoping that it's not going to be too long before your head fits perfectly against my shoulder again.
Monday, February 14, 2011
I Miss Those
It's been a while since I had a night like that. The funny part is, as with all late-night (or should I say early-morning) occurrences of such a sort, it wasn't planned. I mean, to a point, it was. But not nearly as planned as something ultimately robs me of quite a few hours of sleep should have been. Not that I'm objecting. Really. I have nothing to object to.
There's something about curling up in bed to go to sleep when everyone else is getting up to start their day. It makes you feel slightly mischievous and, because you're generally exhausted by the time this happens, it gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling before falling asleep. So maybe I only got four hours of sleep last night. That's okay. I've done worse and for worse reasons.
To a point, I think I needed the night to go like that. There's something magical about those wee hours of the morning when nobody else is awake that gives you a wonderful sense of perspective. Everything around you is silent and calm and suddenly all of the petty problems seem to stop mattering and you finally start believing something you forgot--that everything is going to be alright.
I don't really remember the last time I was up that late. Nor did I realize that I was in fact capable of carrying on a conversation over the phone for four or five hours (thank goodness for unlimited night and weekend minutes). Something about the dead of night helps me get over the stupid inhibitions and the irrelevant details and the foolishness and mundanity of it all and lets me just be, just talk, just make sense of things.
That was a wonderful way to start a Valentine's Day, so thank you. As much as I hate the holiday, I can't help but appreciate what it symbolizes, which is something I felt very strongly before I fell asleep this morning. I love you. Thank you so much for nights like that.
There's something about curling up in bed to go to sleep when everyone else is getting up to start their day. It makes you feel slightly mischievous and, because you're generally exhausted by the time this happens, it gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling before falling asleep. So maybe I only got four hours of sleep last night. That's okay. I've done worse and for worse reasons.
To a point, I think I needed the night to go like that. There's something magical about those wee hours of the morning when nobody else is awake that gives you a wonderful sense of perspective. Everything around you is silent and calm and suddenly all of the petty problems seem to stop mattering and you finally start believing something you forgot--that everything is going to be alright.
I don't really remember the last time I was up that late. Nor did I realize that I was in fact capable of carrying on a conversation over the phone for four or five hours (thank goodness for unlimited night and weekend minutes). Something about the dead of night helps me get over the stupid inhibitions and the irrelevant details and the foolishness and mundanity of it all and lets me just be, just talk, just make sense of things.
That was a wonderful way to start a Valentine's Day, so thank you. As much as I hate the holiday, I can't help but appreciate what it symbolizes, which is something I felt very strongly before I fell asleep this morning. I love you. Thank you so much for nights like that.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Writing Time Again
Not in the mood to write. Just entirely lacking in any desire to sit here and spew words at a page because I have nothing to blog. And no desire to blog. But I make myself do it anyway so here I am. I'm at the point where I don't think any ideas will come along over the course of the evening, so I'm just going to throw some things down and leave well enough alone.
Tomorrow's going to suck. This whole next week is going to suck. Okay, actually, can it just be March already? Or better yet, how about May? May I could do. It'd be nice and warm and this nonsense would be long gone by then (hopefully). But you know, fine. I could even settle for March. Alight, fine. I'm exaggerating. The worst part about tomorrow is today's anticipation. The worst part of next week is my current worry over it. I know that.
I'll be fine. I'm just in a less-than-ideal spot in my life that's wrapping itself up. I just want it to hurry up and end already, but there's nothing I can do right now to accelerate the process, so I guess I'll do my best and just wait it out. Not that I have any other choice. Also trying to work out alternate housing arrangements, so to speak, for next weekend. Anyone that knows me and is willing to work with me here, let me know.
I just need things to get regular again. I need them to settle down into some form of recognizable pattern, even if its not the same one that was in place only a few weeks ago. But it'll be another week or two. And that's fine. I'm doing pretty well right now, and once the transition thing kicks in I'll be able to stabilize, which should be nice. Anyhow, I'm off to go wait anxiously for tomorrow to come already, because I've got nothing better to do with myself tonight.
Tomorrow's going to suck. This whole next week is going to suck. Okay, actually, can it just be March already? Or better yet, how about May? May I could do. It'd be nice and warm and this nonsense would be long gone by then (hopefully). But you know, fine. I could even settle for March. Alight, fine. I'm exaggerating. The worst part about tomorrow is today's anticipation. The worst part of next week is my current worry over it. I know that.
I'll be fine. I'm just in a less-than-ideal spot in my life that's wrapping itself up. I just want it to hurry up and end already, but there's nothing I can do right now to accelerate the process, so I guess I'll do my best and just wait it out. Not that I have any other choice. Also trying to work out alternate housing arrangements, so to speak, for next weekend. Anyone that knows me and is willing to work with me here, let me know.
I just need things to get regular again. I need them to settle down into some form of recognizable pattern, even if its not the same one that was in place only a few weeks ago. But it'll be another week or two. And that's fine. I'm doing pretty well right now, and once the transition thing kicks in I'll be able to stabilize, which should be nice. Anyhow, I'm off to go wait anxiously for tomorrow to come already, because I've got nothing better to do with myself tonight.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Breath
I want to spend a long summer night outside, ignoring the bugs, not caring about the sweat making everything stick together, forgetting what time it was or that anything at all needed to be. I want it to be one of those nights that you look back on and remember because it's not like everything else but it's magical and mystical and doesn't fit in with the rest of your life. One of those nights that needed to happen to remind you of where you've been and where you are and where you're going. A chance to remember how to forget.
I just want to be there with a flashlight in hand because it's finally too dark and just read that novel to you and know that you're there and that you're listening and that all that matters in that moment is the moment itself, more than just me or you or us or the words or the sounds or the air around us. I don't know why but I want to, because that book cuts so close to home and makes me laugh and makes me cry. And I want to share the laughing and the crying and the reading with you because I want it to be a secret between us. Just the moment and madness and the sky.
Maybe it will happen one day and maybe it won't. But more than anything, I want to share that with you, I want to share myself with you and the moments that define my life. I want to know you're there next to me, even if the only indication is your breath, because I don't want to ever forget a moment of this. I want to spend as many nights as possible with you so that I always have something to look back on, some night to remember that couldn't have been better if I'd imagined it. And I want as many of those nights with you as I can get.
So maybe it is all just ridiculous and insane. Maybe my mind has just lost some of its precision from being away from human contact for so long and my inner romantic is getting the better of my mind. It doesn't make the slightest difference to me where the thought came from or what it may or may not lead to. What does matter is that I love you. And nothing makes me happier than being with you and knowing that you're happy, healthy, and safe. Any night of that is worth more to me than all the perfect nights the world can devise.
I just want to be there with a flashlight in hand because it's finally too dark and just read that novel to you and know that you're there and that you're listening and that all that matters in that moment is the moment itself, more than just me or you or us or the words or the sounds or the air around us. I don't know why but I want to, because that book cuts so close to home and makes me laugh and makes me cry. And I want to share the laughing and the crying and the reading with you because I want it to be a secret between us. Just the moment and madness and the sky.
Maybe it will happen one day and maybe it won't. But more than anything, I want to share that with you, I want to share myself with you and the moments that define my life. I want to know you're there next to me, even if the only indication is your breath, because I don't want to ever forget a moment of this. I want to spend as many nights as possible with you so that I always have something to look back on, some night to remember that couldn't have been better if I'd imagined it. And I want as many of those nights with you as I can get.
So maybe it is all just ridiculous and insane. Maybe my mind has just lost some of its precision from being away from human contact for so long and my inner romantic is getting the better of my mind. It doesn't make the slightest difference to me where the thought came from or what it may or may not lead to. What does matter is that I love you. And nothing makes me happier than being with you and knowing that you're happy, healthy, and safe. Any night of that is worth more to me than all the perfect nights the world can devise.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Touch
A single touch can make you melt or it can make you cry. It is the most intimate connection between two human beings, the contact of skin and skin. Touch conveys any amount of emotion, intentionally or otherwise, that expresses your feelings toward someone and attitude as a whole.
The gentlest caresses convey care and tenderness. They can establish not only physical but also emotional contact, a connection which is essential for humans. This encourages communication, trust, and affection. It brings people closer together and helps them cope with difficult times or turbulent emotions. Such a touch can also be intrusive, when an individual wants a certain level of privacy. Because such contact encourages openness and trust, you cringe away from it when you are tense or frustrated or simply want to be left alone.
A firm grasp conveys strength and support. It furthers a sensation of trust and often represents the bond of friendship and established experience. This touch finds itself involved in more formal affairs through handshakes, but also makes itself known during times of trouble or distress. Firm hugs make you feel accepted and supported. They give a certain confidence in the other person on which you can lean for support.
I'm sorry. I can't write this right now. It's written terribly so far anyhow and it's a topic I have much more eloquent things to say on. So perhaps I will take this post up again at a later date. Or perhaps it will be incorporated in more fitting bits and pieces into other posts. Regardless, I am in the wrong state of mind do this at present. My apologies. I'm off to ramble in the back alleys of my private files. Have a good evening. Hope for a better post tomorrow.
The gentlest caresses convey care and tenderness. They can establish not only physical but also emotional contact, a connection which is essential for humans. This encourages communication, trust, and affection. It brings people closer together and helps them cope with difficult times or turbulent emotions. Such a touch can also be intrusive, when an individual wants a certain level of privacy. Because such contact encourages openness and trust, you cringe away from it when you are tense or frustrated or simply want to be left alone.
A firm grasp conveys strength and support. It furthers a sensation of trust and often represents the bond of friendship and established experience. This touch finds itself involved in more formal affairs through handshakes, but also makes itself known during times of trouble or distress. Firm hugs make you feel accepted and supported. They give a certain confidence in the other person on which you can lean for support.
I'm sorry. I can't write this right now. It's written terribly so far anyhow and it's a topic I have much more eloquent things to say on. So perhaps I will take this post up again at a later date. Or perhaps it will be incorporated in more fitting bits and pieces into other posts. Regardless, I am in the wrong state of mind do this at present. My apologies. I'm off to ramble in the back alleys of my private files. Have a good evening. Hope for a better post tomorrow.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Memories
Thank you. Thank you for the past year and a half. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone else or if I even understand it myself, but I know it's true. Remember what it was like then? At the beginning. The misery. The angst. The confusion. The need to be next to someone who understood. Everything was free and open and simple then. There was only one thing we couldn't talk about then. And it hardly ever came up anyway, so it was as though it wasn't there.
Maybe I'm being presumptuous or arrogant in writing it this way. But it's how I interpreted what happened, and it's still the way I understand that portion of my life. So that's exactly how I'm going to write it. I was in a rough place then. I guess we both were. I needed someone to listen to and someone who would take my unstable mind and tolerate it, make an effort to understand it. Now that I think about it, maybe you didn't. Maybe you didn't hear a word I said then except the questions I asked about your life. But I felt listened to, and that was what I needed.
You always talked more than I did. And I felt useful then. Because being there, listening to you, and letting you know another human being cared seemed to help. As I got to know you better, I fell in love with you. You understood me. You made sense to me. When you hurt, I hurt. Being the troubled, angsty individual I was (and still am), I fell in love with anyone I could understand that well. Which was you.
I needed someone to listen to. And you needed someone to listen. However it was we ended up talking about her that first night on the bench behind the water, I'm glad we did. That led us to where we are today and through all the trials and tribulations we had to face to get here.
There were times I was afraid this wouldn't work. Times when I felt we were too close. Because even though we started this with no true secrets, it seems that we grew to the point where it was too easy to hurt one another. There have been days and weeks when I've been too terrified to speak because I couldn't control the hurt it might cause, even if it wasn't intended to. But days like today reassure me that it's okay. That we can still talk about anything.
I can't begin to express how much that means to me.
Maybe I'm being presumptuous or arrogant in writing it this way. But it's how I interpreted what happened, and it's still the way I understand that portion of my life. So that's exactly how I'm going to write it. I was in a rough place then. I guess we both were. I needed someone to listen to and someone who would take my unstable mind and tolerate it, make an effort to understand it. Now that I think about it, maybe you didn't. Maybe you didn't hear a word I said then except the questions I asked about your life. But I felt listened to, and that was what I needed.
You always talked more than I did. And I felt useful then. Because being there, listening to you, and letting you know another human being cared seemed to help. As I got to know you better, I fell in love with you. You understood me. You made sense to me. When you hurt, I hurt. Being the troubled, angsty individual I was (and still am), I fell in love with anyone I could understand that well. Which was you.
I needed someone to listen to. And you needed someone to listen. However it was we ended up talking about her that first night on the bench behind the water, I'm glad we did. That led us to where we are today and through all the trials and tribulations we had to face to get here.
There were times I was afraid this wouldn't work. Times when I felt we were too close. Because even though we started this with no true secrets, it seems that we grew to the point where it was too easy to hurt one another. There have been days and weeks when I've been too terrified to speak because I couldn't control the hurt it might cause, even if it wasn't intended to. But days like today reassure me that it's okay. That we can still talk about anything.
I can't begin to express how much that means to me.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Nudity
The naked human form has been seen as artistic and beautiful for centuries. It was the focus of much art in ancient civilizations and today remains, arguably, one of the most treasured of sights. As a society, we have constructed clothing of all forms and fashions to cover up skin in every way imaginable, from the skimpiest of bathing suits to the most modest of full-body attires. Clothing (and lots of it) is a very reasonable thing to have in cold climates, particularly during bitter winters. At that point, it makes sense to cover the skin.
However, the need to perpetually obscure the human form, the undying urge for modesty in all situations, baffles me to a point. People are raised with the belief that the naked body is shameful somehow, that it is to be hidden and covered up, restricted by layers of clothing. Thus children grow up with a fear of public showers and locker rooms, a need to be furtive about their bodies, one that grows into adulthood with them. In college dormitories, it is sometimes seen as bashful and immodest to be seen naked by one's own roommate. And yet...where is the problem with such behavior?
It makes perfect sense to be covered and modest in a professional or particularly public setting. It must be admitted that the human body often becomes a sexual distraction, particularly when the mind is faced with an unpleasant task and would rather wander. However, there is no reason that nudity should be chastised in private. It should not be seen as odd or societally inappropriate for an individual to be naked around their friends or in the privacy of their own home.
There is no reason to be ashamed of the human body. It is something that all of us possess, in various forms, shapes, and sizes. There should be no shame of imperfection nor immodesty. In private, our bodies are our own to do with as we please. We share our deepest secrets and most intimate desires with our close friends. So why is it so taboo to share something as simple as a view of our bodies? They are natural and they are comfortable without the tightness and restraint of clothing.
I'm not one of those people who loves their body to a ridiculous extent. I encourage acceptance of one's body, but I'm poignantly aware of my own imperfections. That doesn't stop me from not being ashamed of my naked form. Over the past few years, I have become increasingly comfortable in my body, if not entirely satisfied with it. I have found that there is no reason to be ashamed of my naked body in the company of those I trust.
So yes, I am perfectly comfortable being naked in front of my close friends. For that matter, I am not terribly concerned about being seen naked by most people I know. I can't say I want a picture of me naked making its way around the internet, nor do I want to show up naked at an inappropriate location or among a large crowd of strangers. But for the most part, I'm perfectly comfortable being naked. It's as simple as that.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Broken
Sometimes I just want to get really fucked up and write until it is raw and beautiful and ugly.
This is more fitting of my thought process right now than anything else could be. I'm going to sit down and write the real, honest truth right now. No waffling around it like I have been, no subtle implications that only a few would catch, just the truth. The way I intended it to be written. I want this to be a long post because I've got a lot on my mind, and even though I don't know what I want to say or how I want to say it, I know that it needs to be thrown down somewhere, might as well be here. Words of caution for the wise: don't read this. Just don't. It's not written for you. Even if you read this blog religiously (I'm not sure if I even have such a following anymore), ignore this one post. You have been warned.
What ever happened to all of that progress? The 'getting better' as it was so aptly put. What happened to not being so fucked up and broken and hurt? Well, I know what happened. At this point, it's fairly obvious, really. And I don't have much more to say on why I'm here right now. I'm so sorry if this hurts, but it needs to be said: this is going to fuck me up. For the next three (four?) months, I'm not going to be the same person. I'm going to be terrified of just about everything and anything. More than that bothers me, it terrifies me. Because part of the basis of the way I lived my life was not being afraid of certain things. And now I'm going to be back to that point, where I don't remember how I used to function because I'm too scared of going one millimeter too far. I'm scared that this is going to change everything and make it fall apart and I hate that.
I give up on pretending that this doesn't bother me because it does. It bothers me that I had to go and fuck everything up. I don't want to undermine any of what you said, but I feel like right now I'm in that same place of guilt. I keep waking up in this misery of not knowing anything and knowing that all I have ahead of me is another day of not knowing and being ignored and just trying to get through the day. I want all of this to be over, but even then I'm afraid that it's not going to be enough. I'm terrified that this has thrown everything back to worse than it was before. All of that hard work, everything since summer, all of the time and effort spent getting better...what's it all worth now? Maybe it's the only reason we're still here (read it as you will), but there are days when I would rather not be. I'm sorry.
I'm a mess right now. I feel like I've gone and fucked everything up and that there is absolutely nothing I can do. I don't know how to fix this. I have a feeling I can't make this go away and I don't know what to do about it when it doesn't. More than anything, I want this to be fixed, I want it to get better, I want us to be okay, to be better, to not be left broken and fucked up like we are right now. And I hate that I don't know how. I hate that I don't even know if either of us is going to be okay after this. I want to believe it, but I really don't know. I hate that. And I hate myself for not being stronger or better or for making it harder or making it hurt more or for caring or any of the countless things that lead to misery right now.
I don't even know what to say anymore. I can't talk about anything because the one thing I can think about is the one thing that I don't want to talk about or think about or bring up because it's not helping anybody and I can't do anything about it anymore. I'm shaking and crying and I can't do anything else right now because I'm terrified. I'm terrified of what may have happened and of what still might and I'm terrified that this will never be better and that I will never be okay again. I think that more than falling apart myself, it hurts to watch you fall apart, especially to know that I don't know what to do, that I'm not good enough to keep you together. I'm watching everything around me crumble to bits and I'm scared that when this finally ends (because I know that it will, eventually, end) there will be nothing left. Nothing left of me or of you or of anything that was once acceptable or alright or something I could deal with.
I've always been proud of how independent I was, how well I took care of myself, how much control I had. And now all I can think of is that I can't do this by myself and I can't take care of myself and I have absolutely no control over anything anymore. I can get through this, but I know that I won't be able to deal with it if I'm alone at the end. I want this to get better. I want it to work out. I don't care how long it takes, I will be there and do anything I can for as long as it takes. I told you before all of this started that I didn't want to live looking forward to it ending. I still don't. So please, if that's how it has to end, just say it, because I don't want this to hurt anymore. I'm so fucking sorry.
This is more fitting of my thought process right now than anything else could be. I'm going to sit down and write the real, honest truth right now. No waffling around it like I have been, no subtle implications that only a few would catch, just the truth. The way I intended it to be written. I want this to be a long post because I've got a lot on my mind, and even though I don't know what I want to say or how I want to say it, I know that it needs to be thrown down somewhere, might as well be here. Words of caution for the wise: don't read this. Just don't. It's not written for you. Even if you read this blog religiously (I'm not sure if I even have such a following anymore), ignore this one post. You have been warned.
What ever happened to all of that progress? The 'getting better' as it was so aptly put. What happened to not being so fucked up and broken and hurt? Well, I know what happened. At this point, it's fairly obvious, really. And I don't have much more to say on why I'm here right now. I'm so sorry if this hurts, but it needs to be said: this is going to fuck me up. For the next three (four?) months, I'm not going to be the same person. I'm going to be terrified of just about everything and anything. More than that bothers me, it terrifies me. Because part of the basis of the way I lived my life was not being afraid of certain things. And now I'm going to be back to that point, where I don't remember how I used to function because I'm too scared of going one millimeter too far. I'm scared that this is going to change everything and make it fall apart and I hate that.
I give up on pretending that this doesn't bother me because it does. It bothers me that I had to go and fuck everything up. I don't want to undermine any of what you said, but I feel like right now I'm in that same place of guilt. I keep waking up in this misery of not knowing anything and knowing that all I have ahead of me is another day of not knowing and being ignored and just trying to get through the day. I want all of this to be over, but even then I'm afraid that it's not going to be enough. I'm terrified that this has thrown everything back to worse than it was before. All of that hard work, everything since summer, all of the time and effort spent getting better...what's it all worth now? Maybe it's the only reason we're still here (read it as you will), but there are days when I would rather not be. I'm sorry.
I'm a mess right now. I feel like I've gone and fucked everything up and that there is absolutely nothing I can do. I don't know how to fix this. I have a feeling I can't make this go away and I don't know what to do about it when it doesn't. More than anything, I want this to be fixed, I want it to get better, I want us to be okay, to be better, to not be left broken and fucked up like we are right now. And I hate that I don't know how. I hate that I don't even know if either of us is going to be okay after this. I want to believe it, but I really don't know. I hate that. And I hate myself for not being stronger or better or for making it harder or making it hurt more or for caring or any of the countless things that lead to misery right now.
I don't even know what to say anymore. I can't talk about anything because the one thing I can think about is the one thing that I don't want to talk about or think about or bring up because it's not helping anybody and I can't do anything about it anymore. I'm shaking and crying and I can't do anything else right now because I'm terrified. I'm terrified of what may have happened and of what still might and I'm terrified that this will never be better and that I will never be okay again. I think that more than falling apart myself, it hurts to watch you fall apart, especially to know that I don't know what to do, that I'm not good enough to keep you together. I'm watching everything around me crumble to bits and I'm scared that when this finally ends (because I know that it will, eventually, end) there will be nothing left. Nothing left of me or of you or of anything that was once acceptable or alright or something I could deal with.
I've always been proud of how independent I was, how well I took care of myself, how much control I had. And now all I can think of is that I can't do this by myself and I can't take care of myself and I have absolutely no control over anything anymore. I can get through this, but I know that I won't be able to deal with it if I'm alone at the end. I want this to get better. I want it to work out. I don't care how long it takes, I will be there and do anything I can for as long as it takes. I told you before all of this started that I didn't want to live looking forward to it ending. I still don't. So please, if that's how it has to end, just say it, because I don't want this to hurt anymore. I'm so fucking sorry.
Monday, February 7, 2011
In Search of Lost Time
I'm writing right now in case I don't get the chance to later today. This past week has been so hellish and insane that I still don't know what's going to happen or where my mind is or if I'm going to find the time, or patience, to write. I could find the time, I know that. If I have anything worthwhile to say, I probably will. To a point, it all depends on what happens in the near future, because things are still hanging in the balance and such.
I'm not scared anymore. At some point it hit me that some things really just don't matter. Okay, so they can get worse, or they can get better, or they can remain at approximately this same level of "being alright," but in the end, it doesn't matter. I've come to terms with all of the hell that has been swirling around me for the past week and I'm calm. I'm ready for them to be concluded, to come to an end.
The nice part is knowing that I'm almost there. That in one week everything will necessarily be over. There's no way that it can really continue beyond that. And I know that I am currently alright because I've accepted it and I will be alright because "this too shall pass," as I have heard said many times before. This isn't apathy. I've been through the apathetic phase of this struggle already and I'm past it. In a way, I guess this is like the stages of grief (however many there are)--denial, anger, acceptance...I don't remember what order they're in or what exactly they are, because I'm not grieving. I'm dealing with something else. I've been through denial and anger and apathy. Now I've accepted it.
Everything will be alright. In fact, it already is. It's not yet back to usual, back to normal, yet. It's nice having that "yet" there. Even though that word is usually found in less than happy circumstances, this is not such an occasion. I'm glad that there is a "yet" there because it means that it will get back to normal, that this will have only made me stronger and not destroyed me. I'm not a huge fan of Nietzsche, and I usually don't even agree with the quote "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" (for any number of reasons I won't get into now...that's a rant for a different post), in this case, it is absolutely and completely fitting. This hasn't torn me apart, it has made me stronger.
This past week has, to a point, been completely wasted. Everything that has happened has terrified me and confused me and left me shaken and slightly broken at points. I have done nothing beyond the bare minimum because I did not know how to bring myself to. I maintained. I didn't grow, but simply stayed the same because it was a struggle to keep from falling behind. Now that it's coming to an end, I can start making up for all of that. I can begin to move forward again. I can stop hiding the panic and the fear and the terror and the pain because it's not there anymore. There's none of it left to hide.
I'm okay. Everything is fine. We got through this. Thank you.
I'm not scared anymore. At some point it hit me that some things really just don't matter. Okay, so they can get worse, or they can get better, or they can remain at approximately this same level of "being alright," but in the end, it doesn't matter. I've come to terms with all of the hell that has been swirling around me for the past week and I'm calm. I'm ready for them to be concluded, to come to an end.
The nice part is knowing that I'm almost there. That in one week everything will necessarily be over. There's no way that it can really continue beyond that. And I know that I am currently alright because I've accepted it and I will be alright because "this too shall pass," as I have heard said many times before. This isn't apathy. I've been through the apathetic phase of this struggle already and I'm past it. In a way, I guess this is like the stages of grief (however many there are)--denial, anger, acceptance...I don't remember what order they're in or what exactly they are, because I'm not grieving. I'm dealing with something else. I've been through denial and anger and apathy. Now I've accepted it.
Everything will be alright. In fact, it already is. It's not yet back to usual, back to normal, yet. It's nice having that "yet" there. Even though that word is usually found in less than happy circumstances, this is not such an occasion. I'm glad that there is a "yet" there because it means that it will get back to normal, that this will have only made me stronger and not destroyed me. I'm not a huge fan of Nietzsche, and I usually don't even agree with the quote "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" (for any number of reasons I won't get into now...that's a rant for a different post), in this case, it is absolutely and completely fitting. This hasn't torn me apart, it has made me stronger.
This past week has, to a point, been completely wasted. Everything that has happened has terrified me and confused me and left me shaken and slightly broken at points. I have done nothing beyond the bare minimum because I did not know how to bring myself to. I maintained. I didn't grow, but simply stayed the same because it was a struggle to keep from falling behind. Now that it's coming to an end, I can start making up for all of that. I can begin to move forward again. I can stop hiding the panic and the fear and the terror and the pain because it's not there anymore. There's none of it left to hide.
I'm okay. Everything is fine. We got through this. Thank you.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Lazy Weekends
This has been one of those weekends when just about nothing happens. Not in the strictest literal sense of the word, anyway. I've spent the entirety of these past two days talking to people and watching movies and ignoring reality. Nothing wrong with that, right? Okay, well, actually...there's plenty wrong with that. But at this point, that's beside the point. It's one of those weekends when I just let myself.
Because right now, most things don't matter. Between watching Fight Club and having this great personal epiphany about not caring and nothing mattering and all such things, I'm having a pretty nice time. Sure, everything's not perfect, and dear god, many things aren't even anywhere near great, but that's okay. The thing I've figured out is that things happen. And then they pass. Everything comes and goes. You can deal with just about anything if you want.
I have many things to finish tonight that I've really been neglecting, but that's okay. I'll get there. It'll probably be a fairly late night for me at this rate, but that's alright. It's my fault in that respect, so I'll finish it off and get the rest I can. Anyhow, I'm going to go do some of that stuff right now, if only because I'd rather not be up too ridiculously late. Good night. Sleep well and all that.
Because right now, most things don't matter. Between watching Fight Club and having this great personal epiphany about not caring and nothing mattering and all such things, I'm having a pretty nice time. Sure, everything's not perfect, and dear god, many things aren't even anywhere near great, but that's okay. The thing I've figured out is that things happen. And then they pass. Everything comes and goes. You can deal with just about anything if you want.
I have many things to finish tonight that I've really been neglecting, but that's okay. I'll get there. It'll probably be a fairly late night for me at this rate, but that's alright. It's my fault in that respect, so I'll finish it off and get the rest I can. Anyhow, I'm going to go do some of that stuff right now, if only because I'd rather not be up too ridiculously late. Good night. Sleep well and all that.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Flashback
Oh how much things have changed. Where I am and where I've been. But that's how life goes. Things change. I've heard it said that the only constant is change. It is, in and of itself, an oxymoron. It doesn't exactly make much sense when thinking about it literally. Figuratively, though...figuratively it makes perfect sense. Everything changes. Always. We know that going into things, we know that they will change. We sometimes ignore this knowledge, sometimes it seems like it doesn't matter, but we always know.
It's odd to look at that and realize that a year ago, that was me. I stood there, I said those words, thought those thoughts, gazed longingly at everything I wanted to have but couldn't. That was me (except perhaps that I was more depressed and frantic and more of an emotional wreck, but that's just the way I am). Then my life changed. For the better. There's no doubt in my mind about that. It's been wonderful. Even right now, life is good. I've been through messes, and one thing I've learned from those is that I'll get through it.
My mind is in an odd place right now. It's drifting further and further away from reality, and going deeper and deeper into the hypothetical corner. And no, I do not mean the metaphorical corner, I very much mean the hypothetical one. It's where my mind goes when I get the opportunity to think too much. That's where I try to figure out what will happen. After years of trying such things over and over again, it's gotten to the point where when I'm in that corner, reality and fantasy start to merge together and I can't tell one from the other.
In effect, that's where I am right now. I can't, or perhaps would rather not, differentiate between what is possible and what isn't. Sometimes these thoughts are by far the most beautiful, whether they are realistic or not. They're not things I can really put into writing or even vocalize. They are, simply put, something that reminds me of where I am, how far I have come, what has changed, everything that has gotten me where I am today. It makes me smile, somehow. I'm not sure why, but that's how it is, and I really don't mind.
It's odd to look at that and realize that a year ago, that was me. I stood there, I said those words, thought those thoughts, gazed longingly at everything I wanted to have but couldn't. That was me (except perhaps that I was more depressed and frantic and more of an emotional wreck, but that's just the way I am). Then my life changed. For the better. There's no doubt in my mind about that. It's been wonderful. Even right now, life is good. I've been through messes, and one thing I've learned from those is that I'll get through it.
My mind is in an odd place right now. It's drifting further and further away from reality, and going deeper and deeper into the hypothetical corner. And no, I do not mean the metaphorical corner, I very much mean the hypothetical one. It's where my mind goes when I get the opportunity to think too much. That's where I try to figure out what will happen. After years of trying such things over and over again, it's gotten to the point where when I'm in that corner, reality and fantasy start to merge together and I can't tell one from the other.
In effect, that's where I am right now. I can't, or perhaps would rather not, differentiate between what is possible and what isn't. Sometimes these thoughts are by far the most beautiful, whether they are realistic or not. They're not things I can really put into writing or even vocalize. They are, simply put, something that reminds me of where I am, how far I have come, what has changed, everything that has gotten me where I am today. It makes me smile, somehow. I'm not sure why, but that's how it is, and I really don't mind.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Reasonable
Maybe I'm finally starting to believe it again. Maybe I'm finally coming around to seeing that everything is going to be okay. Because goodness knows that wasn't the case yesterday. I fell apart. I figure my blog post didn't give any of that away, or at least that's what I'm hoping, because if it did, then I really fail at self-control. At this point though, I'm alright. It took a couple of hours for me to get to this point, but I am firm now. I am alright. I will be okay.
The question remains of what is going to happen. Of what I can do about this. Because right now, everything is resting on my shoulders. A lot is up to me. And all of it will play out fairly shortly. In the meantime, though, I still have to wait. I have to focus my mind on other things and prepare as best as I can. So I'm back to deep breaths. In a week, all of this will be over, ideally. Or perhaps it won't. At the very least, I know I'm going to make it to the end of this.
I'll figure this out. I'll be alright. I'm okay. I'm starting to believe this again. It could be worse. It could be a lot worse. Knowing that, and having thought that it was yesterday, makes me feel better about this right now. Things happen. Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're bad. This may have been one of the latter, but I can fix it. I can make this better. So I'm going to. I'm getting better. I think. I hope.
Anyhow, I'll possibly have something more eloquent to say on the subject when it's all over. Once I get past it, I know I'll be better for it. What I have to worry about right now is just getting through it. So that's what I'm doing right now. But I'm okay. It took a bit, but I am. I'll figure it out. I'll get past it. For now, it's back to deep breaths. It will all be alright. It will.
The question remains of what is going to happen. Of what I can do about this. Because right now, everything is resting on my shoulders. A lot is up to me. And all of it will play out fairly shortly. In the meantime, though, I still have to wait. I have to focus my mind on other things and prepare as best as I can. So I'm back to deep breaths. In a week, all of this will be over, ideally. Or perhaps it won't. At the very least, I know I'm going to make it to the end of this.
I'll figure this out. I'll be alright. I'm okay. I'm starting to believe this again. It could be worse. It could be a lot worse. Knowing that, and having thought that it was yesterday, makes me feel better about this right now. Things happen. Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're bad. This may have been one of the latter, but I can fix it. I can make this better. So I'm going to. I'm getting better. I think. I hope.
Anyhow, I'll possibly have something more eloquent to say on the subject when it's all over. Once I get past it, I know I'll be better for it. What I have to worry about right now is just getting through it. So that's what I'm doing right now. But I'm okay. It took a bit, but I am. I'll figure it out. I'll get past it. For now, it's back to deep breaths. It will all be alright. It will.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Get Away
I'm four and a half hours away from anywhere that could possibly be called home. Even though nowhere feels like home to me right now. I'm trying to figure out what to say. I really don't have anything to write here. There's nothing for me to say. Tomorrow will be busy. I probably will write at this point, but I don't know when or what.
Right now, I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to sit here and curl up and pretend the world doesn't exist. Being away is rather nice for a change. It means that right now, nothing can touch me. Or rather, to a point, it can. But not nearly the same way it could when I was four and a half hours closer to "home." So I'm sitting in a bed in a hotel, without needing to think about any of that...not yet, anyway.
I'm finally catching up on various TV shows, which I haven't seen in quite a while. It's a break. It's a much-needed break. I like that. So maybe I am procrastinating a bit, and maybe I'm going to spend the next couple of days ignoring reality. But so what of that? It's been a long week, and goodness knows I could most definitely use the break. I'm going to enjoy it while I can get it.
Right now, I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to sit here and curl up and pretend the world doesn't exist. Being away is rather nice for a change. It means that right now, nothing can touch me. Or rather, to a point, it can. But not nearly the same way it could when I was four and a half hours closer to "home." So I'm sitting in a bed in a hotel, without needing to think about any of that...not yet, anyway.
I'm finally catching up on various TV shows, which I haven't seen in quite a while. It's a break. It's a much-needed break. I like that. So maybe I am procrastinating a bit, and maybe I'm going to spend the next couple of days ignoring reality. But so what of that? It's been a long week, and goodness knows I could most definitely use the break. I'm going to enjoy it while I can get it.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Breathe
Just breathe. Take deep breaths. And just do something else. Anything else. Whatever it takes to get your mind off of all of this. This past week has been full of hell. Every single day, tensions have been riding high for one reason or another and it has been absolute hell. But in the end, it's alright. Everything will work out. It will turn out alright. Everything will start to make sense. We just have to give it time.
So because I don't have much more to say, I'll explain what happened yesterday. We had a blizzard. Lovely thing that is, complete with power outage and no heat and no internet until later this afternoon. Any other night, I might love a power outage. It would be interesting and exciting and full of fun. To an extent, this one was too. I spent time with people I don't see that often and parts of the evening helped me to forget about everything.
Yes. There is a lot on my mind. Thoughts are flickering back and forth and I'm still fairly tense. The interesting thing about being this wrapped up in my own issues is that I haven't noticed the hell that this blizzard has brought to the attention of most everyone else. Yes, I am mildly bothered by the restrictions it has imposed, yes, I would rather everything wasn't this limited. But somehow, having other things occupying my mind has stopped me from being as distracted and tense as most other people are regarding this.
To a point, that is nice. The past few days have been painful, but they have been a blur. The brain is extraordinarily good at numbing the pain, and that is what mine is doing at present. I am tense, anxious, waiting. But everything will be alright. I know that. I can still breathe. I can still function. I am still looking forward to certain things, even as I am dreading others. It will be alright. We will all get through this. Just breathe. I promise, it will all be alright.
So because I don't have much more to say, I'll explain what happened yesterday. We had a blizzard. Lovely thing that is, complete with power outage and no heat and no internet until later this afternoon. Any other night, I might love a power outage. It would be interesting and exciting and full of fun. To an extent, this one was too. I spent time with people I don't see that often and parts of the evening helped me to forget about everything.
Yes. There is a lot on my mind. Thoughts are flickering back and forth and I'm still fairly tense. The interesting thing about being this wrapped up in my own issues is that I haven't noticed the hell that this blizzard has brought to the attention of most everyone else. Yes, I am mildly bothered by the restrictions it has imposed, yes, I would rather everything wasn't this limited. But somehow, having other things occupying my mind has stopped me from being as distracted and tense as most other people are regarding this.
To a point, that is nice. The past few days have been painful, but they have been a blur. The brain is extraordinarily good at numbing the pain, and that is what mine is doing at present. I am tense, anxious, waiting. But everything will be alright. I know that. I can still breathe. I can still function. I am still looking forward to certain things, even as I am dreading others. It will be alright. We will all get through this. Just breathe. I promise, it will all be alright.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Just Hang On
It will be over. It will pass. Life will resume like usual. God knows it will feel like hell until then. But I've always been a big fan of saying that the downs help us appreciate the ups. This is one of those downs that has to be ridden out until something better comes around. And as with many such downs, we find that a significant portion of the problem is waiting, not being able to do anything, not knowing what is going to happen and feeling like you don't have control.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It feels like everything is eroding and the world is falling around your ears. But it will pass. Everything will work out. Maybe it'll even be funny in a few years. If nothing more, it will be something that you have survived. Sometimes doing well doesn't matter. Sometimes being right doesn't matter. Sometimes, the only thing that matters at all is just getting through it. This is one of those situations.
So what now? What the hell can anyone do at this point? Just sit and wait. Sit and wait. I hate sitting and waiting. It's quite possibly the worst feeling in the world. Dear god, I hate this. I'm letting more spill into my writing than I normally would, but I don't care. This is generally a frustrating situation and it would be only too easy to make it that much worse.
So this, this is me trying not to think. Or maybe trying to think too much in order to compensate for not really being able to do anything at all. I need it to be the end of February, because by then, everything will be over, it will have ended, it will be alright for a fact. Sure, there will be other issues, but the things this past week has hit us all with have been frightening and horrendous and absolutely terrifying at least to a point. Now, I just want them to end.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It feels like everything is eroding and the world is falling around your ears. But it will pass. Everything will work out. Maybe it'll even be funny in a few years. If nothing more, it will be something that you have survived. Sometimes doing well doesn't matter. Sometimes being right doesn't matter. Sometimes, the only thing that matters at all is just getting through it. This is one of those situations.
So what now? What the hell can anyone do at this point? Just sit and wait. Sit and wait. I hate sitting and waiting. It's quite possibly the worst feeling in the world. Dear god, I hate this. I'm letting more spill into my writing than I normally would, but I don't care. This is generally a frustrating situation and it would be only too easy to make it that much worse.
So this, this is me trying not to think. Or maybe trying to think too much in order to compensate for not really being able to do anything at all. I need it to be the end of February, because by then, everything will be over, it will have ended, it will be alright for a fact. Sure, there will be other issues, but the things this past week has hit us all with have been frightening and horrendous and absolutely terrifying at least to a point. Now, I just want them to end.
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