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it’s been days since i’ve written.
i don’t know how many people actually read this, but if you’re an avid follower (hah – right….), i apologize.
i just haven’t been motivated, i guess.
well, no. that’s a lie. i have a lot of things i want to say, but the words i need to express them just won’t come.
it’s odd, isn’t it? the sensation of a racing mind. but usually, when your thoughts race, there is an outlet, an exit; either with spoken word, writing, music, dance, etc. what do you do when your thoughts race, but you have no way of releasing them?
they just sort of marinate, roaming around in your head like a broken washing machine that is endlessly stuck on the spin cycle. granted, not being able to access an outlet makes it fairly easy to focus on what’s happening in your head, but trust me when i say that my head is sometimes a scary place to be.
i’m not quite sure i’d want to spend any amount of time stuck in there.
and yet, that’s where i’ve been for the last week or so. i’m sort of regretting sharing certain things with certain people – and it has nothing to do with said people, it’s more the finally admitting to something that i’m beginning to regret. it would be different if admitting to things (i know, i’m being vague) would immediately erase the bad memories and jarring emotions, but that’s not the case. digging up old emotions that have been buried for a long time is a difficult thing to do; they surface fairly easily, but coming to terms with them is incredibly hard and kind of makes me just want to bury them again and just pretend they aren’t there.
i’m generally all about taking risks and facing things head on, but this is so different. i know that digging the same old grave for these things would be the easy way out, but i need to deal with them eventually. and the last thing i want is for them to come back even worse than before.
thus, i am trying to deal with them now.
i’m just a little bit sick of hearing “you shouldn’t feel this” or “don’t think like that.” i know you all mean well, and i appreciate your concern.
but let’s play the honesty game for a moment.
i’m not a little sick of hearing it – i’m REALLY FUCKING SICK. do NOT tell me how i should or shouldn’t feel. and more importantly, don’t tell me you “understand.”
you don’t.
and i hope you never understand. please trust me when i say this. i hope you never, ever understand.
i’m ok.
thank you for asking.
it’s been a rough couple of days.
when you teach yourself to bury emotions, they don’t actually go away. rather, they lie dormant for a while until something causes them to bubble to the surface and kick you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you and forcing you to break down. again. only this time, it’s worse than before.
mine were dormant until a conversation with a friend sparked me to think about why it is that we build walls – or, more specifically, why i do. a conversation, which, in turn, caused the memories of one incident to rear its ugly head and split me apart again.
i’d never told anyone about what happened then. not after it happened, never. i was too scared, too nervous, too ….. ashamed.
and i’m not going to detail it here. it’s hard to talk about, but it’s something that i need to talk about, because i’m sick and tired of burying emotions.
this blog was so pointless. i’m sorry. if you wasted your time reading it, my apologies. i guess if you want to know, you can ask me.
maybe
you’re just jaded
from some nobody’s unforgotten words
maybe
you’re just faded
a little gray from every time that you’ve been hurt
so you’re looking for your skin
that you never did fit in
you can’t hide when your turned inside out
maybe
you’ve been burning
but you can’t blow out a flame that you can’t find
maybe
you’ve been thristy
but the rain ain’t enough when you’re this dry
so you’re running from the water
and the fire’s getting hotter
i think you better find some level ground
maybe
you’ve been wearing
the shoes that someone else is wearing now
maybe
you’re swearing
forever might have already run out
but if you can’t love yourself
at the expense of someone else
then you can’t hide a liar
from the truth
walls suck.
yep. my sleeping habits are officially fucked up.
i either can’t fall asleep until 6am, sleep for three hours, and then can’t fall back asleep again, or i pass out unexpectedly at midnight and don’t wake up until either 8am or like 2 in the afternoon.
what?
which is what happened last night. chatting online, stalking guitar tabs, etc, and i got up to grab a cup of coffee. which, at midnight, may not exactly be the best combat to insomnia. this i know. however. i sat back down on the couch, made myself comfortable, and closed my eyes for a brief second – slight headache, so i was thinking i’d just close ‘em for a moment until the aleve started to kick in. yeah, well, in this case, closing them for a second meant passing out until oh, about 8am. so, sorry to those of you i was having a conversation with.
so the fact that i’m graduating hit me like a ton of bricks yesterday. and i’ll blog more on it later, because i’m running out of time – have to leave for rehearsal in a few minutes. but everything that i have to do in order to finish up my career at columbia is starting to stress me out, coupled by the fact that once may comes, i don’t have that safety net anymore. school, as much as i loathe busy work, has always been a constant point of stability. it comes every fall and spring, i go to class, do my homework like a good little girl, and then enjoy the brief periods of rest in the winter and summer.
may = being more of an adult than i already am.
help.
if you could take a pill that would make you completely happy, would you?
no. i wouldn’t. and i have no idea how i can even begin to rationalize that.
i mean, doesn’t everyone want to be happy? most of us, if not ALL of us, spend the better part of our lives trying to figure out how to be happy. so why wouldn’t we leap at the opportunity to swallow a tiny little pill that could guarantee our complete and utter bliss?
i asked a friend that question, and the reply was: “no. because happiness isn’t life. it isn’t what life is about. happiness is what you get when you’re trying to figure out what life is about. happiness is an experience, not a destination.”
which i agree with.
but there’s more. i feel that having to fight through unhappiness to find happiness makes you a stronger person. plus, having to deal with the bad makes you appreciate the good that much more.
what am i saying? fuck. it’m making it sound like i like being unhappy. and i don’t.
well, actually, on second thought, maybe i do sometimes.
that’s a weird thing to admit – enjoying being unhappy. not all of the time, mind you. but i don’t know. when i’m stressed out or depressed, i feel more artistically inclined sometimes. i’m more likely to write, or play music, or jot down lyrics, etc, when i’m unhappy.
wow. so when i’m happy, i’m doing theatre with a little bit of writing and singing, and when i’m unhappy, my focus is more on writing and music than theatre. that’s odd.
and i’m starting to wonder if some of the things i do are because, subconciously, i don’t want to be happy – i don’t think i deserve it. and that sounds crazy, i know. maybe even self-destructive, perhaps. but looking back at situations i’ve been in, i can’t help but find some truth in it. things will be going great, wonderful even, and then i’ll have a point where i realize how happy i actually am. and that realization makes me think long and hard about why i’m so happy, and the self-doubt creeps in, and i start mentally checking off reasons why things are not as good as i think they are, even if those reasons are ridiculous. and then once i’ve convinced myself that i can’t be happy, i become numb to the situation and that’s that.
but how do i stop DOING that? i wish i fucking knew. i wish someone had an answer for me. but then again, i’m horrible at asking for help – i’d rather do it myself and struggle than ask someone for help.
perhaps liking the feeling of that struggle is why i continue to do this to myself.
it’s the dead of summer; the time of day where the sun starts retreating and the moon begins to glow above the tree tops.
the hot july air sits like a warm wet blanket over the green; wafts through the trees, wandering lazy trails around tree trunks and spilling into tiny valleys. where it hits the lake, down at the end of two dirt roads and a path long since claimed by weeds, it dances, eerily silent, reveling in it’s own reflection on the glassy surface. save for a bullfrog and an occasional mallard, the mirrored lake makes it hard to discern where exactly the water ends and the sky begins.
a pair of bare feet tickling the water, sending ripples out into the perfect mirror.
a girl, fresh-faced and pensive, sits at the end of the dock; her weathered blue jeans rolled up unevenly around her knees. a faded guitar rests gently in her arms; poised, breathless, and ready. there is a sigh behind her; the battered pick-up truck settling happily into its momentary resting place next to her favorite oak tree. as she draws shapes into the water with her toes, the electricity in the air is thick and imminent.
maybe it’s only the storm rolling in, as evidenced by the soft flickers against the grumbling, uneasy clouds.
or maybe it’s something else.
maybe it’s the electricity that happens when something feels so right, so perfect.
and as her right hand rises and falls, the strings of her guitar hum and writhe beneath skilled fingers.
there is no place she would rather be – and there is no place else she should be.
and then i wake up, and realize i was only dreaming.
because i live here, in chicago. and i’m pursuing theatre. and i love it, i do. i am incredibly happy with my life as it stands today. but a little part of me wonders what it would have been like had i gone to school down south like i wanted to, so long ago.
would i still be driving a pick up truck? would i be running bare foot down dirt roads, wandering through the woods on horseback, melting marshmallows over bonfires and watching southern summer storms roll in over the lake? would i have ever started playing the guitar? would i have ever found the encouragement that chicago and the people in it have given me to start writing and playing my own music? would i be satisfied, sitting on a dock at dusk, playing a guitar with a bottle of jack and a pack of camels with only the sky and the trees to serve as a rapt audience?
more importantly, would i be happy?
so, now i’m 2 down, 4 to go in the star wars watching.
most of my film friends (read: all of them and then some) think that i’m a huge sinner for having never seen star wars – y’all are going to be proud of me, i promise. not only have i watched the first two, but i’ve also enjoyed them.
what? it’s true. i have a pretty nerdy side, in case you haven’t noticed.
so today, i received an email from a very good friend of mine that started me thinking – what’s the deal with love?
i suppose when you’re a kid, your parents and the people you see in movies are responsible for shaping your idea of love. granted, cooties are fairly popular until you hit the 5th grade, but the idea of love is ever-present, starting even before you come into this world. as we grow older, we learn that love isn’t exactly how it’s portrayed in the movies – as a matter of fact, i think it’s safe to accuse the silver screen of giving us unrealistic expectations of love (a fair amount of blame could go to disney, but that’s a whole other story). it’s not sappy, silly, or giddy, it’s – ok, well, maybe it is sometimes, but it’s also hard work. and commitment. and dedication. and it’s a hell of a lot easier to fall into or out of than it is to stay in it.
then there’s the idea of having many different kinds of love: friendship. romantic. familial. adoration. lust. idolization. and etc etc and blah blah blah. but what if we’re wrong?
what if there’s only one kind of love, but we as a people have guidelined and ruled it into so many subcatergories that the original, primal, raw “love” is not only unrecognizable, but it’s bordering on extinction?
bear with me.
anger is also an emotional feeling. it can be projected in many ways, and in many forms, but regardless of how it is presented, it’s still anger. right? so why isn’t love the same? the love i share with my family may seem different than the love i share with say, a significant other, or a best friend, but in it’s barest form, it’s the same emotion. so when someone “falls out of love” in a relationship sense and begins to feel love in a “friendship” sense instead, there really isn’t a loss of love, as the person on the recieving end often feels that there is. it’s a shift, rather, of the same emotion. and it’s unfortunate that these shifts happen, but mourning the loss of “love” is only ok for so long – because really, that love isn’t gone. it’s just been manifested in a different way.
are you still following me?
maybe i’m just a big old hippie, what with my wanting everyone to just give in and love one another. but i’m serious. maybe if we acknowledge the fact that love is alive and well and still kicking, regardless of its manifestation, we’d all be a little happier.
and maybe i should have just written him a reply instead of posting it in some silly blog rant. ok, well, this next chunk is directed at my friend in particular, then.
it sucks, man. it sucks, hard. to know that someone loves you but is not necessarily “in love with” you when you previously thought they were, hurts. but, case in point, love is still there. albeit in a different form, but it exists. and you have every right to mourn what was and what never again may be, but take comfort in the fact that it IS still there. i know that’s not what you want to hear – hell, no one wants to hear that when they’ve just become the recipient of a broken heart. but it will heal, and love will still be there. chances are good that you’re going to have to either accept what love is still there, or turn tail and run. knowing you, i believe that you’ll hold onto what’s being offered.
ok. re-reading that makes me seriously reconsider bloggng after 2am. EVER. but it’s one of those things that makes sense in my head, but then not so much once it’s on paper, or on a screen. eh, c’est la vie. if it made sense to you, awesome. if not, please ignore.
my fingers are even more calloused now than they were before.
i mean, riding horses, working in a stable, and then holding down a barista gig forever definitely wrecks havoc on your hands. but then you throw playing the fiddle and the guitar into the mix? damn.
all i’m going to say is i’ll never be a hand model, that’s for sure.
so, i was thinking today about the state of the world. someone said to me, “don’t you miss when you were a little kid and your world began with breakfast in your wonder woman pj’s and ended with a bedtime story and a kiss on the head?”
yes, i do. but at the same time, i don’t. when you’re a kid, the cliche “ignorance is bliss” doesn’t make sense – you can’t even pronounce the words, let alone understand them. it only becomes clear when you grow up enough to know what “ignorance” means, and even then, many of us remain ignorant. but i feel like being ignorant as an adult is slightly by choice. there’s nothing stopping you from learning – books, newspapers, and hell, even the internet – it’s all at your fingertips, literally. granted, there are some things we’ll never understand, but the only person you can blame for your being ill-informed is yourself.
therefore, don’t be offended when i mention darfur or gaza and sigh when you say,”what’s that?”
i definitely had a conversation today that went like this:
me: “hey, have you been following gaza at all?”
friend: “oh, is that some new indie band? no – i haven’t heard their stuff yet.”
me: (after a heavy sigh and possibly a rolling of the eyes) “uh, no. there’s a religious war happening in gaza – it’s not a band.”
friend: “…..oh. sounds depressing.”
me: (after a deep breath) “well, that’s putting it lightly.”
friend: “i don’t want to talk about war. oh, hey, did you see kate winslett’s dress last night at the golden globes? she looked a -MA-zing!”
yikes. really? are people that ill-informed? well, i suppose that’s a rhetorical question. it’s becoming more and more apparent that people are indeed that ill-informed, and it scares me. i feel like a lot of people out there simply put up a little bubble around themselves and only pay attention to the things that affect them personally – that, and they pay attention to the things that interest them. now, that’s me judging, and i shouldn’t do that. i mean, if you’re interested in what kate winslett wore to the golden globes, awesome. but as living, breathing humans who all occupy the same planet, isn’t in our best interest to take the time to understand what’s happening in places other than our own little bubbles?
maybe it’s just me. maybe asking everyone to care about people they’ve never met is asking too much. that, or maybe i just care too much about things that are entirely out of my control.
my little brother is going into the navy.
and it terrifies me.
maybe my fears are ridiculous. i mean, it’s the navy. it’s not like he’s going to iraq, or that he’s signing himself up for some sort of war. but he’s getting involved in a military organization, and it scares me that should something happen, he could be fighting.
it’s his choice though.
and i’m proud of him, i am. i never figured him for a school kind of guy, and he proved in his first two years at northwood that he definitely was NOT a school kind of guy. so he’s taking initiative – he’s being incredibly mature about his situation, and is getting himself involved in something that he’s interested in and could see a future with.
but then i hear about how his girlfriend cries when he mentions the navy, and i know how she feels. because it’s not the navy, persay, but the realization of an unknown future. which, i suppose, is something we all have to deal with.
but this is different.
this is my little brother. the kid who used to dump teddygrams all over his highchair because he couldn’t wait for my mother to get him a bowl. the kid who used to play “hot lava” with me in the living room and called me out when i cheated. the kid who would have a sleepover on his bedroom floor with me on christmas eve, right next to the door, so that if we heard santa, we could get to the living room as quickly as possible. the kid who lived and breathed soccer, and never batted an eyelash when he took a tumble. the kid who’d match me punch for punch when we’d fight over something stupid. the kid who i’d tease about his “grandma voice” whenever certain people called on the phone. the kid who always had to play it cool and nonchalant, even when i came home from college and told him i missed him. the kid who always had the wacky sense of humor and a lot more maturity than i ever gave him credit for.
my little brother.
and i’m being selfish. i want him to be happy – i do. and i’ve had conversations with him about his being happy – and i’m glad he’s leaving northwood, i am. because business school was not his niche, and even though it took him 2 years to recognize it, he did recognize it. and that makes me so proud of him. i’m so proud of him. so so so proud. but i’m also scared. so so so scared. i just hope beyond all hope that the navy does good things for him, and that he visits me often, and that nothing bad happens to him.
granted, he’s almost 20. so technically, he’s NOT my baby brother.
but it feels like it. and i love him so much. and i’m so proud of him. i just feel like i haven’t told him that enough, and so maybe my fear is guilt-based.
jamey, i love you. and i’m proud of you. and i hope that this makes you happy. but please be careful. you know i’m always here if you need me.
