- I have to remind you to breath
- I love this because the old as time saying “You take my breath away” is real for us. As cheesy as that is, I’m happy about it. But it gets a little weird when I’m laying on your chest and it stops moving for a little while and I look at you and say “Breath” and you let out the bits of air you were holding and start to inhale slowly. I always kiss you when this happens, and it starts all over again.
- You hate waking up.
- I do too, but lately when I wake up I can’t drift back to where I was and I’m so frustrated by it so I just want you to be a wake too so we can cuddle and talk.
- You make me food.
- one of the three items on the “Happy Zanthia” list, that must be completed daily or else I die, and you do this so well and happily…. I hate when people do things for me that inconvenience them or make them annoyed but because you love to cook and I love your cooking, everything is copasetic.
- We barely need alone time.
- Because both of us are so close and we don’t need to be having conversation together when we are together we barely need alone time. I mean occasionally both of us need to go and recuperate but I love being alone with you most.
- You are as curious as a 3 year old in a thrift shop.
- I watch you pick things up and touch them and feel how they work and it’s so entertaining watching you be fascinated so easily by random objects you find. Sometimes I’ll catch you playing with an assortment of weird metal bits and I’ll ask “Where do you find those?” and you’ll look up at me grinning and laughing like a kid and say “I don’t know!” and shrug your shoulders defensively. It makes me smile now just thinking about it.
- But at the same time, you make messes because you find things and never put them away or organize them. You go from one discovery to the next with no interludes or productivity, simply letting your brain lead you places physically without you consciously understanding that I can walk in your room without finding the most weird and disgusting assorted piles of items.
- You are a rolly polly baby.
- When you are stretching, frustrated, tired, concentrating, or simply laying down at all, you roll around in your bed on your stomach and become the cutest bundle I have ever laid eyes on.
- This also means your covers are always a mess, and your hair. But I love it.
- You are a furnace.
- I need this. Chronically cold feet and hands because of my health issues is a curse, but you are my savior with your very hot skin (in more than one way).
- You like to sing in the stairwell
- `Going along with your hilarious curiosity, you discovered that the echoey noises your voice makes in the stairwell is really pleasing and you go in there to sing just for fun… I don’t know a single person who would do this just purely on their whim.
- To be continued.
As I sit here crying because I’ve just rewatched my favorite film “Cloud Atlas”, I am reminded of change and dreams.
For a long while now, maybe a year, I’ve been in a slump. I’ve been thinking over and over about how my life is a “drop of water in an endless sea”. Pondering over how tiny I am, how mortality is so finite how could any of us bare the idea of immortality? How I will die inevitably and everything in our waking world is a distraction away from this death, it’s a monolithic movement toward a fake idea of eternal life. It doesn’t come from the Christians, although they now propagate this idea, and it was before the Greeks, before the Babylonians (pre-Judaism), and it was before writing. Humans lie. We lie to ourselves about our fate.We try to block it out, pretend death isn’t lurking under every rock, waiting to trip us up and break us, we shout “DANGER” so quietly.
I’m trying to be honest to myself. Telling myself of my death, that whatever I do, I will die. I’ve been giving up hope, I’ve let all my dreams go. In my depression and in my turmoil I have said “It’s impossible, I’m 1 and 8 billion+ and I am nothing.” I am nothing because I choose to be, but not because I am.
In Cloud Atlas Sonmi said “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”(David Mitchell, author). When she said this, she is staring at a room full of fighting. Everything knows death is inevitable but they are fighting for a better life. Dying for a better life for the other.
My eternal best friend Savannah said to me: “You aren’t great because you are great, but because I say you are great so you have to be, because I want you to be.” Now this sounds very backwards, but I knew exactly what she meant. She meant that even though I don’t think I’m great, or have purpose, or meaning, I am great because she knows so. Then she said “You may think you don’t have a purpose, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give yourself one. Make one up!!”
A few hours later a woman came out of an Irish bar on to the sidewalk where Savannah and I were standing, I gave her a light and she said to me “I want to be your mothah!” and then “Go do something amazing, change the world.”
More than all the religious and socio-political philosophical truths, I know that humans are only human with other humans. And we can only change when we step into the view of the other. The moment we see the point of view of someone unlike ourselves who is apart from us can we begin to understand we aren’t so different. The only way we can learn or affect the world is by changing ourselves.
I heard once that you don’t have to change the whole world to be marvelous, you only have to change one tiny world of someone else’s to make an impact. I hope to change a few, even if those worlds are just my immediate friends and family, I can be ok with that.
I won’t give up though, I’m revisiting my dreams of being a writer, a musician, an archaeology, a teacher, a lifelong learner. I am finding another path and I don’t walk alone, but I am connected with those I find, everyone’s whose path touches mine.
Those who are great most of the time never knew they were. They died, maybe for a cause to fight for the other and are remembered as great because they changed one tiny world, that created a wave to affect many. They weren’t great because they thought they were great, they are great we because we think they are. We think. Present active Indicative plural. We are plurality and individuality and we are being.
As per request from wonderful friends, I will write my stories and little notes I’ve taken from my experiences.
In highschool, I –for some strange reason– became the Guru of anything pertaining to romance and sex for couples and friends. One of my closest friends, Minecrafter of Aphrodite (we will call him MoA for short) asked me to teach him to kiss since he had just started dating his first girlfriend. It was his sophomore year of highschool and my Junior year, so I took his request. I thought for a while about a way to verbally teach him and came to the conclusion that strawberries would be the best analogy.
See, giving someone step-by-step directions going through how to move their lips, tongue, and cheeks would be a disaster and I’d end up just making a bunch of weird faces at him. I didn’t find this an attractive way to teach or a useful way for him to learn how to handle another person.
I ended up telling him this:
“Imagine you are holding a succulent, juicy, strawberry. You don’t take the strawberry and rip into it with your mouth like an animal, nor do you lick it all over with your tongue and rub its juices all over your face. No, you gingerly press it to your lips and then take it slightly into your mouth between your lips and put pressure down on it. Don’t get complex or you won’t be savoring the taste. Start slow and then if you find out the strawberry isn’t reluctant, move forward. Silent communication.”
Now strawberries are not essentially sexual (like a banana) or romantic (like chocolate), but I think they are perfect for this situation since kissing can be either very emotional or apathic. Kissing is what you make it and what you put into it. It’s a way of communicating your intentions and feelings, or the lack thereof.
This is my problem. It leads to me never believing that others can love me, because I’m simply not worthy of it.
It isn’t women that I don’t believe though, I mostly trust girls. But I can’t trust guys, (sorry if this sounds sexist but… it has been my overarching experience through my life).
I’ve never been good enough for my dad, never strong enough to chop wood or athletic enough to draw the attention of my Dad’s dad, (my grandad). I was never good enough for a lot of guys I liked or dated in the past. There was always something about me that needed to change for them to be pleased. Mostly my body. I was never enough for a lot of other people because they wanted me to be there constantly, and well, I have a life I need to live too.
I’ve never felt good enough to love someone else because of this. As if I wasn’t worth enough to give someone else adoration. But then at the same time I’m too worthless not too, because everyone else must be more deserving than I to receive love. I’ve felt so unworthy in the past that I just summed it up to being incapable of loving others. Incapable of commitment and loyalty because I’m not good enough anyways.
“A Bed Full of Safety”
Even though I have no reason to really think I’m not enough right now. I know I’m talented, intelligent, strong, and mature, I can’t shake the feeling of never being good enough. I can’t help but remember that I couldn’t love, and I couldn’t truly be loved by others, I can’t stop feeling helpless in the fact that I’m just starting to live, just learning how to be.
But being isn’t easy.
I know I shouldn’t believe that I am not enough, but it’s hard to not believe it when I’ve disappointed so many people.
Saw this quote on the Human’s of New York facebook page and couldn’t help but want to share it.
Death is one of the most under spoken of natural event in everyone’s existence. It’s very difficult to confront.
“You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.”
1. Some how reacquaint myself with Alejandro
2. Get more people to accidentally flirt with
3. Cuddle with everyone
4. Fail an audition
5. Environmental Science class is still not accomplishing anything
6.English Composition II is still not accomplishing anything
7. Be annoyed by my ENG II teacher
8. Talk to Dr. Teacher
9. Send love notes
10. Get rejected
11. Cry pitifully to oneself during class
12. Throw papers manically.
13. Throw oneself onto couch in desparity
14. Devise evil plans
15. Watch stupid videos
16. Facebook too much
17. Listen to depressing music
18. Argue with That Pirate Kid
19. Get Married
20. Disappoint my father
21. Dont drive
22. Drink a lot of tea
23. Microwave a lot of tea and meals
24. Eat alone
25. SHIT TON OF MOISTURIZER
26. LIP BALM
27. Have cold hands
28. Play guitar till my fingers almost bleed and my hand falls asleep.
30. Try to forget
31. Get depressed by the holidays
32. Cancel New Year’s Eve Party because I hate everyone
33. Unfriend a lot of people on facebook like a pro
34. Go shopping.
35. Video game therapy.
36. Block people on Xbox
37. Make new friends
38. Scrap four blog posts.
39. Pretend to do work .
40. Write long lists.
41. Go to Church
42. Send this link to people
We shall look back to sophmore year (although I was 14..the age of an 8th grader), beginning in September. I was taking 3 courses, Biology at 9:40, Latin 1 at 11:20 and British Literature and Writing at 1:30 (after lunch). My schedule is extremely important to this story. My not-boyfriend-boyfriend now The X schedule was: 8:00 American Literature and Writing 2, 9:40 Physics (which he hated) and 11:20 Spanish 3. He would usually stay for lunch, and this 40 minute time span was my attack and attach supremacy. I really just wanted to be near him. I could give you the reasons, but you would want to barf, as I do now thinking back on my infatuation with The X.
We had frequently texted and chatted on Face book that entire summer, I not missing a single hour to get in touch with him. It was my sworn duty to. (Oh God, I was pathetic.)
He had told me this: “I like you, but I cant have you as a distraction for the school year, can we officially date when I graduate?” (did I mention he was a senior and one of the student body leaders?) This I thought at the time was smart, I told my self that he was wise and was thinking ahead for the better of our relationship. What a total ditts I was. He was really just trying to put me off… makes me wonder how he sees me now.
So it continued like that, texting, chatting, never talking on the phone (he thought it was awkward, I think he just was avoiding me. hahahaha) and I would latch on during lunch to his arm that was in a crook with his hand stuck in the pockets of his navy fleece that he always wore, and I hated that thing. I over looked my hate for his hand-me-down jeans and t-shirts from his older brother. I was being nice to never kidnap him and make him go shopping with me for true man clothes. (shoulda when I coulda)
Finally, the fatal weeks came. It was the second week after Christmas, and it was vacation, He hadn’t replied to my texts for 3 days and I was getting worried that he was sick or something bad had happened. Ali was sleeping over that night and she and I stayed very late, and at 2 am I had enough of his silence. I texted him: “We haven’t talked for a while, you doing okay?” He replied: “Do you know what time it is?” I and Ali laughed.. of course we did, wouldn’t have texted if we didn’t. It was the perfect time to strike, he was vulnerable in his sleep-deprivation. I replied: “Yes, but it shouldn’t stop me should it?” Then he said the fatal words. “I need to talk to you at school during lunch. Wayne’s. Be there Tuesday.” I could have cried. I knew what was coming and I was angry.
Burning pits of hell couldn’t stop me from unleashing my anger upon anyone in sight.
The day came and we talked..or he talked and I smiled and nodded. (My brother and I are experts at suppressing our feelings and dealing with them later.. when its appropriate to, that’s why it’s so easy to trick people into thinking it’s all okay.)
He said: “This is really hard for me to say.” He continued after pausing to look into my eyes. “I really really really like you, but everyone (meaning his family, his youth group, his mentor his friends, blah blah.) is telling me to break it off with you. Is this okay?” I said, “Of course it is, I totally understand.” And I was a doll, an empty shell, no thoughts, no feelings, just an empty understanding.
I got in the car when my mom picked me up after school and immediately started bawling. I had an audition for Snow White that night and couldn’t sing anything.. except for Memory from Cats by Andrew Lloyd Webber. He totally ruined my audition. I forgive him though.
A few weeks later:
“You know you are my worst enemy?” I said to Jerkface #1 in Waynes.
“Your what?” Jerkface #1 said, popping one eye brow up like he always did.
“My worst enemy, your Jerkface #1 on the list buddy. But don’t worry, I love you.”
I said looking straight into his deep doggy brown eyes, then staring into The X’s as well. I started to turn and walk away.
“I bet I am jerkface #2,” said The X.
I turned back to him, “No, you’re not a jerk… your just..” I walked away, knowing he was something very different than Jerkface #1.
Comment and tell me if you want to hear more stories like this. I got a life time supply of them. (See Guy list for references of male stories.)
..You are a teenager that is terribly confused about what to do about stalker boys. I got a few of them now. It may be do to my activeness on Xbox live, but it’s not like my avatar is wearing a t-shirt that says “Friend me~ I’m a gamer girl who has *insert all gamer girl myths* and will always flirt with you.” No. Does it seem as though the majority of nerdy gamer boys of these days are assuming way to much of women? I think they need to start reading more self-help books…. But you know, its not that bad having a set of friends online, I have a gang, they are even placing bets on whether I am going to “break up” with Brett in the next year. Cash (some random boy) is betting November or before, he probably just wants me to cave and get his $50. (I’m still not sure where he is getting it from…hopefully not me or Brett…) Aside from the groupies drama, I can actually kick some ass on MW3 and Halo Reach, but ME3 and BF3…eh not so much. Maybe I am just an annoying brat..? Sad thoughts.
Now I’m listening to a song about dying and going to my own funeral…why does my family put up with me?
The stuff of the next paragraph I wrote 8 days ago… it has nothing to do with the above.
It’s really too obvious, but I have a strange want for very obscure and rare objects. I have a pink Spartan 3 action figure leaning against a pink and silver Hello-Kitty old fashion clock next to the authentic green and gold jewelry box from the Disney Anastasia animated movie I used to watch over and over when I was ten. And did I mention the mini plush ewok sitting next to the Spartan? That is clashing of science fiction stories….maybe I should separate them?
On another shelf of mine, I have a 1×1 blue frame with all these little bobbles around it, and it goes for another two rows down the shelf with the other frames a purple one, and a brownish green one from my best friend. In front of them, are rubber 3 inch stand ups of the Rockefeller and the Empire State buildings, a Harajuku doll, a red background skull and cross-bones plastic melting bead plaque, two porcelain antique donkeys about half an inch each, 2 plastic leemers, a smurf with a yellow horn, a pair of aviators sun glasses, a pair of green foldable nerd sun glasses, a pair of black sparkly curling fake glasses, a small box of random shiny rocks, a small box of fallen or extra buttons from jackets and sweaters, a Hello kitty cookie jar with nothing in it….
Well I guess I should write about something important….Nah. Important stuff is stupid….
Biology is teaching me about algae and seaweed now….YEAH! *stabs heart and gives it to teacher in replacement of unfinished homework*