The unspoken rule of college is claiming seats for the semester. Once somebody consistently sits somewhere, that’s their seat. And the earlier you show up on the first day, the more likely you are to get your preference. I prefer to have a visual sight over most of the classroom because I’m always prepped for threat. I have a easy escape if I can see a threat coming before it can hurt me, and I’m always closest to the exit. Sitting in the second row of my Communications 101 class room, I can’t see everyone as I would usually prefer, but now it’s because of a threat .
I know he is just sitting there directly behind me. Not doing anything at all, just existing, taking notes, talking to our mutual classmates on either side of him, but each time I have to look at his face an icy river flows through my veins and I clench my fists. I feel like I make a pained face and wince away turning my body into itself. It’s just his face. I don’t even know his name.
My therapist gave me this analogy: “You’re seeing something that looks like a grizzly bear, it’s big, furry, and had claws, but it’s not a grizzly bear its a raccoon. Maybe it’ s a grizzly bear but its behind a fence, and it’s not the same one.”
I know this. I know it’s not a real threat. But my body is trying to alert me to something that looks like the threat that hurt me before that I didn’t take notice of. Slowly, I’m unraveling the past that has made others around me notice the same things. They notice I am very capricious and dual-natured, both loving and apathetic, cold and happy. It seems strange, but through deep analysis, I figured out why and how this dual-nature came about.
I did this little survey called the Jo-hari window, it has the user pick 6 characteristics that they think I possess. I picked 6 as well, these fall into one of 4 boxes, the “Known to self and hidden from others” box. If they pick one of the words that I also picked, it goes into the known to others and to self. If they picked words that I didn’t pick, it goes into another box, “Not known to self, but known to others.” If consensus grows on certain words they become highlighted against the others.
Sitting back, I know that the reason I can be both loving and apathetic/cold is because I keep my emotional distance, but I care deeply when I feel allowed or safe to do so. Sometimes I don’t notice I’m totally emotionally detached until I say something so unempathetic in a situation that requires at least a hint of empathy. I lash out without thinking because I have no emotional forethought.
To conclude this daily life post, I also want to address the antithetical ideas that surround my duality. I also am so emotional. It comes in many waves, spurred from things I can’t predict sometimes, and if recognized as a trigger of emotion, swell up and spill over even more; as if they were all the sudden given approval and allowed to overwhelm me. Maybe this recognition just seems at first like a swelling and then crashing wave, and maybe I’ll soon adapt to be the sand, able to withstand the constant crashing, and able to change with the rising tide.
I wont wince away anymore, cringe internally and externally. I won’t avoid it, but face it all.
- I love Take.
- He loves me too.
- We have nice animals friends who are fluffy and adorable and happy .
- They make us laugh.
- Cozy closets.
- Weird items that are oddly comforting.
- Ice Bat – ugly doll
- Middle finger kitty
- T: Finding your clothes mixed in with mine .
- T: Waking up and taking showers
- Coconut oil
- not feeling sick.
- When technology works
- Cozy blankets
- Good Weather
- Happy Memories
- Learning an instrument
- Soft skin
- Sweet touches
- Cute outfits
- Hair cuts.
- Stoner Pits
- New places to hang out
- Familiar paths through the tiny woods.
- Old creaky buildings.
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.
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.”
So maybe I’m not motivated at all to do things like:
1. finished the last 11 chapters of my Algebra 2 book.
2. Study for the ACT.
3. Be polite to certain individuals.
4. Learn how to control my emotions.
And all these things, I really need to do.
I need to finish my Algebra in order to graduate high school. I need study for the ACT in order to get good grades so I can apply to schools that are worth my time.
And another thing.
I’m feeling really useless. I’m feeling like nothing matters. I’m feeling like no matter how much I study, how much I learn, how much money my parents spend on my education, I will never be good enough. Doesn’t matter exactly what I’m “not good enough” for, but that I’ll never get there anyways.
Or maybe, I’m just hitting the cusp of my teen angst and there is no looking back now. Maybe these are my defining moments and I need to make the best of my algebra 2 and ACT while I still have time, or maybe this is just the end for you my friend. (New Found Glory). Sometimes I have a better hold of what I’m trying to say while I’m typing then when it actually is read… Context is all there is in my brain.
Then I heard this song, Selfless by New Found Glory, and they say “I’ll catch up on my sleep when I’m dead.” I really appreciate this. I dont get very much sleep anyways, since I think very well between 9pm and 2 am, but also that I like to get up at 9 and still enjoy a morning cup of tea and feel the morning breeze, and listen to the birds. I dont want to miss any second of the day, which means I dont want to be sleeping through the wee hours of the morning/night.
Yesterday’s check list:
1. Not know how to feel about who you had lunch with.
2. On one hand, they were acting fine, being fine, treating others kindly.
3. But on the other, they are also all those people you can’t seem to form a proper opinion of.
4. Question the definition of “proper”.
5. Environmental Issues was canceled so I made friends with my classmates in our empty time.
6. Reveal more about oneself’s life and hear about others more than you thought you should.
7. Here about That Pirate Kid’s strange summer sex.
8. Try not to look at The Fucking fuck face.
9. Be instructed by Dr. Teacher to contact Teemo.
10. Regret ever telling Dr. Teacher I still had his number.
11. Have bloodshot eyes, all day, errrday.
12. Be concerned about my own two faced actions,
13. I hate bisexual girls.
14. Why can’t they make up their minds.
15. I need better friends.
16. Crush on someone
17. Become irrevocably disappointed in myself.
18. Forget to reschedule counselling.
19. Don’t tell therapist about You’re In Fucking California X’s return……
20. Try to forget about it.
21. Cry because he doesn’t want to talk about it
22. Wonder why we have to “talk” about these things.
23. Forget exactly why I keep feeling this way.
24. Psychoanalyze self.
25. Remember that I like philosophy better.
26. Philosophize about why I’m like this.
27. Metaphysics sucks.
28. Is it Cause to Effect? Or Effect = Cause? ugh.
29. Listen to really bad indie music.
30. Have band practice.
31. Remember why I love music and laugh hysterically with my mates 🙂
1. I heard this too at a Christian Conference from a couple who did seminars together, and they said “don’t cuddle, because one thing leads to another.” Yeah, one thing does lead to another, but as Lilly says, “clothes dont magically remove themselves” you make a conscious decision whether to move forward or to stop. And that red light program is set by you. I find that if I know my boundaries, I can control myself just fine, and if I want to slip, I slip, not because some “devil” tricked me into that hand holding or anything, but because I chose too.
2. Waiting until marriage to have sex for me is more of an emotional and physical precaution, I figure, God has these rules and covenants for a reason, maybe saving sex for marriage is a precaution to keep his people from being sick (physically with STDS and emotionally from sleeping around). He also says that the human body is a temple, which he dwells in and we should do everything with the intent of worshiping God (meaning even having sex should be a worshipping ceremony). That sounds weird, but in a way, it makes sense. During sex, you are adoring your partner, sacrificing yourself to them – exposing every personal part of you and your insecurities and they are doing that in return to you. To me this sounds like prayer, an exposure, a conversation, a physical endurance, an emotional act. It’s a lot of complicated things happening all at once.
3. Oh goodness did this one upset me. “Girls dont care about sex” dear lord do we care about sex. ALL A 10 YEAR OLD GIRL TALKS ABOUT IS MARRIAGE. Girls obsess about who their future husband will be like, having babies, naming babies, what their wedding dress will look like. What are these things related to? Sex. OH NO WAY. Girls think about sex, and are just as easily distracted visually as boys are. We are just taught to not show it or talk about it. I agree with Lilly how demeaning to boys it is to say they “stumble” easier. What is stumbling??? Yeah, that’s my question. If a boy gets an awkward boner because someone bumped them in the groin or they see a bra strap and just happen to know what that is holding up, it’s a sin? A sin to have a sexual drive? A sin to want to procreate the way God commanded us to in Genesis? I’m confused. Contradictions are just… blown out of proportion!
4.Love sex. Sex is an expression of love, but love is hard, and it takes time, and you can’t just all the sudden be in love and everything is butterflies, rainbows, unicorns, and candy. No. Love takes work just like sex takes work. Kissing takes practice, hugging takes practice, holding hands takes practice! People don’t all the sudden just know what their doing, instincts can only help you so much. Being intimate takes practice because it has choreography, and sometimes it takes some repetition to get to the improvisation solos where things get interesting. Love sex because sex love.
I don’t think humans were designed to write happy music. I only write sad music, and every time I go to write a happy song, it doesn’t make any sense. Maybe because happiness doesn’t make any sense to me. I am happy now though, and I don’t want to listen to happy music. I am happy now for logical reasons. I conquered a fear. A fear I’ve had for years.
I smiled at him. The one guy who I thought I would never be able to even say hi to ever again. I talked with him, and laughed, and he laughed, and we smiled, and then I walked away. Happy. And the bad scary memories faded to a better less ominous tint into a warmer cloudy sepia.
I don’t want to write a happy song about this. Because it will actually be a sad song, confused under a peppy beat and major chords.
I only use major chords to prove points, sad points. Because sad points can only be stressed by happy notes. Happy notes send inviting tones.
I think we write happy music because we need something to dance too. Dancing is a happy generator for me. I dance when I need to be happy, or I dance when I am. I’ve danced for a while now, and I welcome the sweat and the noise from my tap shoes. I doubt my family does but it’s ok. They can deal, because I am happy.
I like dancing in silence, because I follow my own beat. At Least when it comes to tap dancing.
When I am ballet dancing, I usually need music, because the movements are interpretive and need an emotion behind them. Tap dancing in silence is different. The noise you create is the noise you need. You are creating the vibe. The tone. The beat.
I think my hair is falling out. Or maybe I am pulling it out. I can’t tell. But it does come out either way and it’s probably from the stress. I remember this happening to my cousin, Av, her hair was falling out last year. Especially at her dad’s death anniversary. I think my hair fell out a little too.
It’s coming up soon. May 14th. Not a happy day. But I think we will go away from home to cry this time. I’d like that.
Happiness and sadness are both temporary though, because nothing lasts forever. Not even the feelings we have. Love isn’t eternal unless you make it eternal.
Flowers die, chocolates go bad, and relationships become stale. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Happiness for me is simple. Don’t let me be forgotten in the moments when I didn’t forget you.
I never make promises, but I promise that I won’t forget you.