i have to get this out.
I DO NOT LIKE IT WHEN GUYS USE EMOTICONS, ESPECIALLY ON MY FACEBOOK WALL. THEY ARE AWKWARD AND CREEPY. THEY MAKE ME EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO PUT OFF, BUT I DON'T LIKE THEM. IF YOU'RE DOING IT ON PURPOSE TO PISS ME OFF, THEN I WILL LAUGH AND ALL WILL BE FORGIVEN, BUT IF IT IS AN EVERYDAY HABIT OF YOURS, I'M GOING TO HAVE TO ASK YOU TO PLEASE DESIST.
i also speak for most girls when i mention my complete hatred for emoticons. we don't like them, so please keep their usage to a minimum.
i'm sorry. i digress. i'm going to go prepare for slumber and retreat from emoticons.
...also, i saw inception for the second time today and it is really a great movie. imdb rated it #3 best movie of all time. i'm not so sure i'd go that far, but it is phenomenal and our titanic boy, leo, really has quite a knack for picking complex movies that toy with your mind and sabotage your views on everyday life. i would love to hear about what you think about the last scene because i have some ideas and i would like to hash them out with someone.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
why georgia, why?
if you can't already tell, i have a tendency to tie my emotions/thoughts/feelings to a song. here's some lyrics:
i rent a room and
i fill the spaces with wood in places
to make it feel like home,
but all I feel's alone.
it might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul
either way, i wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life
am I living it right?
am I living it right?
am I living it right?
why, why georgia, why?
-johnny m.
so... i decided to compile a list of the tell-tale signs that indicate the onslaught of a quarter-life crisis:
1) your dentist makes you wear a mouth-guard to bed every night because you grind your teeth at 22.
2) you need white noise to drown out little or no noise in your own bed, in your own house (perhaps an oscillating fan or a sound machine that has waterfalls and various other jungle noises keeping your sub-conscious entertained while sleeping).
3) you start taking women's one-a-day pills with a metabolism booster.
4) you never go outside in the sun without putting sunblock on your face because you are seriously trying to prevent signs of aging... or you have a mother who looks ethereal at 52 and you'd like to look like her 30 years from now.
5) you moisturize after every shower.
6) you wash your hair every other day instead of everyday because you do not want to devastate your gorgeous locks. included in #6 as well might be that you let your hair air dry more frequently rather than using the blow dryer and flat iron simply because you want to preserve the "healthy" and "alive" look for the next 20-30 years or so until you have to kill it with hair color to hide the gray. also, in #6, you may think about how you wish you could wash your hair even less, but don't know how simply because you work out all the time and your hair looks disgusting afterwards, so you have to shower (there really needs to be a remedy for this problem... i wish vanity wasn't such an issue in the female population).
7) you try not to eat after 7 pm which leaves you starving at 2 am, causing you to wake up in the middle of the night, running downstairs to eat a couple of reese's pieces, and then blogging about quarter-life crises.
8) you start to pick apart your food (or maybe this is just me). you ask for no onions and no mayo on your food because your allergic to onions and you want to watch your cholesterol. and then waiters yell at you for asking for no onions. what the frick? do you seriously want us to get sick in your restaurant? i used to work at a steakhouse, so i know that if the customer has preferences, they're nice about them, than there's really no inconvenience to you.
9) you get pissy if you haven't worked out that day. and so you try to at least go and take a walk.
10) you develop new favorite pastimes such as cake baking (an everyday favorite of mine), painting, novel-writing, or blogging...
11) you realize that friends who are members of the opposite sex are few and far between because now they want to date you. you were just trying to be nice and are unopposed to making new friends, especially guys, but now you've put yourself in a pickle. you try to develop ways to dumb yourself down or be so absurd and ridiculous that they have to hate you, but they keep coming back for more. and then you have to be honest and say, i'm just not into you. and then you feel like a turd.
12) you begin to retreat or rock back and forth because people make you feel more and more awkward.
13) you become opinionated on what kinds of fries you like... whether be the more rough and crunchy type, or the soft and supple (that was perverse, my bad). and you decide that you rank reese's pieces in this order (best to worst): 1) brown, 2) yellow, 3) orange. and then you get mad because at least 2/4 of the bag is made of orange pieces.
14) you either become a smart ass or a dumb ass. usually ends up having something to do with your wit, street smarts, and educational upbringing, but whatever.
15) you value laughter and people that make you laugh.
16) you seriously begin to enjoy long road trips by yourself.
17) you take up napping again. maybe it's something you did frequently in high school, but then you got too college and you had too much crap going on that you could never settle your thoughts enough to take a freaking nap... even if you're friend Katie made you stay up til 630 am, go to sleep until 830 am, and then continue studying at starbucks with a transvestite sheman until your art history exam at noon.
18) you realize that caffeine is the only thing that keeps you alive. caffeine types vary from person to person, of course.
19) your friends all start getting engaged, which makes you feel like a turd because...
20) you begin to need to make plans just to keep yourself motivated. you want to travel, you want to visit friends, you need to go to a movie, etc...
21) you try running at high noon, despite the fact that tennessee is hotter and more humid than the flames of hell sometimes.
22) you develop a systematic approach to breakfast. perhaps you pour a little flax seed or wheat germ over your cereal depending on whether you want to produce more or less estrogen that day.
23) you wake up and read bbc news on your droid, iPhone, or various other secondary smart phone. still wish i had an iPhone over the droid, but whatever. i'll wait until verizon gets them.
24) you become paranoid that you can't wear your jeans in the car because they become too baggy after you've been sitting for awhile.
25) you spend hours at nordstroms with 2 of your best friends/ex-roomies at the burrito house trying on sexy pumps, and then maybe buying a pair or two, along with a cardigan during the anniversary sale...
26) you salivate over the possibility of having a car with power windows and less than 150k miles, but at the same time your foreign-made car runs great, you're personally attached to her, and she's paid for, so what's the point of getting a new one, really? even if you're hyperventilating every time you see the 2008-2010 versions of the ford escape in a cream or black color.
27) you're dying to start your job just so you can get some money in your savings, but you also know that you can't take this "off/limbo" time for granted.
28) you spend about an hour a day looking for deals on apartments/townhouses on craigslist because you're going against your age group and wanting to save, save, save rather than spend, spend, spend.
29) you dream of the day you can pay for your parent's private getaway to ireland, a place they've never been, but dream of going.
30) you laugh when your alma mater's tuition fees increase nearly twofold for the 2010-2011 graduating class when you only just graduated. part of you feels bad for your younger friends because no one knew it was coming, while the other part of you is just so glad you don't have to pay for it (or, your parents).
you could really add to this list and i could keep it going for like 9 hours, but i'm calling it a day for now. i'm finishing up reading someone's blog and then hopefully i'll sleep, wake up at a decent hour, do some kick boxing, shower, bake, etc. etc. mmkay. love you. bye.
i rent a room and
i fill the spaces with wood in places
to make it feel like home,
but all I feel's alone.
it might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul
either way, i wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life
am I living it right?
am I living it right?
am I living it right?
why, why georgia, why?
-johnny m.
so... i decided to compile a list of the tell-tale signs that indicate the onslaught of a quarter-life crisis:
1) your dentist makes you wear a mouth-guard to bed every night because you grind your teeth at 22.
2) you need white noise to drown out little or no noise in your own bed, in your own house (perhaps an oscillating fan or a sound machine that has waterfalls and various other jungle noises keeping your sub-conscious entertained while sleeping).
3) you start taking women's one-a-day pills with a metabolism booster.
4) you never go outside in the sun without putting sunblock on your face because you are seriously trying to prevent signs of aging... or you have a mother who looks ethereal at 52 and you'd like to look like her 30 years from now.
5) you moisturize after every shower.
6) you wash your hair every other day instead of everyday because you do not want to devastate your gorgeous locks. included in #6 as well might be that you let your hair air dry more frequently rather than using the blow dryer and flat iron simply because you want to preserve the "healthy" and "alive" look for the next 20-30 years or so until you have to kill it with hair color to hide the gray. also, in #6, you may think about how you wish you could wash your hair even less, but don't know how simply because you work out all the time and your hair looks disgusting afterwards, so you have to shower (there really needs to be a remedy for this problem... i wish vanity wasn't such an issue in the female population).
7) you try not to eat after 7 pm which leaves you starving at 2 am, causing you to wake up in the middle of the night, running downstairs to eat a couple of reese's pieces, and then blogging about quarter-life crises.
8) you start to pick apart your food (or maybe this is just me). you ask for no onions and no mayo on your food because your allergic to onions and you want to watch your cholesterol. and then waiters yell at you for asking for no onions. what the frick? do you seriously want us to get sick in your restaurant? i used to work at a steakhouse, so i know that if the customer has preferences, they're nice about them, than there's really no inconvenience to you.
9) you get pissy if you haven't worked out that day. and so you try to at least go and take a walk.
10) you develop new favorite pastimes such as cake baking (an everyday favorite of mine), painting, novel-writing, or blogging...
11) you realize that friends who are members of the opposite sex are few and far between because now they want to date you. you were just trying to be nice and are unopposed to making new friends, especially guys, but now you've put yourself in a pickle. you try to develop ways to dumb yourself down or be so absurd and ridiculous that they have to hate you, but they keep coming back for more. and then you have to be honest and say, i'm just not into you. and then you feel like a turd.
12) you begin to retreat or rock back and forth because people make you feel more and more awkward.
13) you become opinionated on what kinds of fries you like... whether be the more rough and crunchy type, or the soft and supple (that was perverse, my bad). and you decide that you rank reese's pieces in this order (best to worst): 1) brown, 2) yellow, 3) orange. and then you get mad because at least 2/4 of the bag is made of orange pieces.
14) you either become a smart ass or a dumb ass. usually ends up having something to do with your wit, street smarts, and educational upbringing, but whatever.
15) you value laughter and people that make you laugh.
16) you seriously begin to enjoy long road trips by yourself.
17) you take up napping again. maybe it's something you did frequently in high school, but then you got too college and you had too much crap going on that you could never settle your thoughts enough to take a freaking nap... even if you're friend Katie made you stay up til 630 am, go to sleep until 830 am, and then continue studying at starbucks with a transvestite sheman until your art history exam at noon.
18) you realize that caffeine is the only thing that keeps you alive. caffeine types vary from person to person, of course.
19) your friends all start getting engaged, which makes you feel like a turd because...
20) you begin to need to make plans just to keep yourself motivated. you want to travel, you want to visit friends, you need to go to a movie, etc...
21) you try running at high noon, despite the fact that tennessee is hotter and more humid than the flames of hell sometimes.
22) you develop a systematic approach to breakfast. perhaps you pour a little flax seed or wheat germ over your cereal depending on whether you want to produce more or less estrogen that day.
23) you wake up and read bbc news on your droid, iPhone, or various other secondary smart phone. still wish i had an iPhone over the droid, but whatever. i'll wait until verizon gets them.
24) you become paranoid that you can't wear your jeans in the car because they become too baggy after you've been sitting for awhile.
25) you spend hours at nordstroms with 2 of your best friends/ex-roomies at the burrito house trying on sexy pumps, and then maybe buying a pair or two, along with a cardigan during the anniversary sale...
26) you salivate over the possibility of having a car with power windows and less than 150k miles, but at the same time your foreign-made car runs great, you're personally attached to her, and she's paid for, so what's the point of getting a new one, really? even if you're hyperventilating every time you see the 2008-2010 versions of the ford escape in a cream or black color.
27) you're dying to start your job just so you can get some money in your savings, but you also know that you can't take this "off/limbo" time for granted.
28) you spend about an hour a day looking for deals on apartments/townhouses on craigslist because you're going against your age group and wanting to save, save, save rather than spend, spend, spend.
29) you dream of the day you can pay for your parent's private getaway to ireland, a place they've never been, but dream of going.
30) you laugh when your alma mater's tuition fees increase nearly twofold for the 2010-2011 graduating class when you only just graduated. part of you feels bad for your younger friends because no one knew it was coming, while the other part of you is just so glad you don't have to pay for it (or, your parents).
you could really add to this list and i could keep it going for like 9 hours, but i'm calling it a day for now. i'm finishing up reading someone's blog and then hopefully i'll sleep, wake up at a decent hour, do some kick boxing, shower, bake, etc. etc. mmkay. love you. bye.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
what a mess
you come in, you look at the mess that's around you and you get to work. hesitation is not in your vocabulary. some windex here, some pine-sol here, an empty trash bag there. no, i'm not the messiest person around, in fact i'm quite organized comparatively speaking, but still you manage to find ways to pick up after me. you find the things that have gone overlooked or went missing every other week. you find the dust ball that lingers behind the love-seat. you exterminate the cobwebs that have gathered on the tips of the under-used living room fan. you wave your wand over every petulance that could have ever existed on the crown moldings and on the crest of the staircase. somehow things get on the top of the kitchen cabinets, but still, they cannot escape your careful eye. the vacuum lines in the carpet tell your story. they scream that you will not give up on me. you will fight for orderliness until i am immaculate and unblemished. i thought i was clean, but somehow, i still managed to track in dirt... you tackled it. you moved into the den and with a swiffer you first absorbed the dust and grime, and then your gentle touch guided the mop, back and forth, back and forth, so that the foundation of my world would be polished. your gaze swept over the bookshelf, but you were undeterred. compartmentalizing each section--fiction, non-fiction, historical, romance, historical romance, mystery, even timeless literature-- your quiet patience dusted over each tightly bound book and the torn, yet still together paperbacks. i thought that was all that could possibly be done, but to you that was only the first floor. you fought your way up the stairs, scraping every nook and cranny with your sanitizer. the bathrooms are simple for you, nothing but a routine. shower, sink, faucet, mirror, toilet. all clean. but your kindness is especially apparent in the bedrooms, which you treat as individual sanctuaries. ever so gracefully, you vacuum the floors, wiping clean both the love and hurt that is experienced there in private. you make a deal with the carpet and it is refreshed. you move to the bed, laying the sheets and carefully manicuring the comforters and pillows, so that going to sleep means getting rest, and that is such an unexpected treat. the mahogany dresser and desk gleam with a new-found glaze. and just when i thought that you had done everything, that you had set me free of my neglected chaos, you set to work on my clothes. with the tenderness with which you fold some of my scattered garments and neatly replace them in the proper drawer and your attention to the detail that is my form of o.c.d. as you adorn my closet with my most adored wardrobe, organized by color and type, your appreciation for their purpose is transparent. to you, they are my protection, my warmth, my shelter. like a prayer a transgressor, you alone bring restoration to my place of refuge. i thought i was clean, but still you pick up after me. you have memorized the locations to which my things belong, however insignificant, and you never miss a beat. you know it all. despite how tiresome and unrewarding it may seem to some, you take your role seriously. your attitude is servitude. you are often under-appreciated, but still you give. i will never deserve it, but this is your perpetual gift to me. the gift that keeps on giving. your love is manifested in the candle that is lit to delightfully intoxicate my sense of smell. you welcome me home to a clean house and you promise to return.
...you are our cleaning lady and you come early tomorrow morning, so now i have to go to sleep.
...you are our cleaning lady and you come early tomorrow morning, so now i have to go to sleep.
love hurts and crushes suck
thank you for your gift. here's mine.
love hurts and crushes suck, don't they?
this past semester, i learned why a crush is a crush... you walk away in pain. you wish you could be next to that person at all times of the day. you yearn to hear from them. you die a little inside when they walk away. you wait until next time. you hurt when next time doesn't come. you obsess over what you said and what they said. you wish you could take something back--make it sound less corny and more intellectual or witty. do anything in your power to make them feel the same. you feel crushed.
i've had enough crushes. i'm so over them. i went for a power walk/vent time/walking quality time with lindsay probably in the late april time frame and vented forever it seemed. and i finally decided that i never want to have another crush. maybe they're fun for you, but they suck too much out of me. it's like i can't function. if i'm not with them, i want to lay in my bed and think about them. and it's so horrible when you have no idea how they feel about you. it's just painful. so you just lay awake at night thinking up impossible scenarios of them going out on a limb just to love you. i told lindsay that i don't want to have another crush. i just want a friendship and then a smooth transition to a relationship. crushing sucks. i can't do it again. who knows if that will ever actually happen, but i hope i never have to go through it again because it's only fun when they're crushing too. sometimes i literally bow my head and have conversations with my heart. how ridiculous is that? i whisper to my heart and say, "you deserve to be protected and taken care of. you deserve to be appreciated. you deserve to be nurtured. you will not be stomped on. i won't allow it." it's how God sees my heart, and once my heart knows love, it's like it's on a fast track to give every piece of me to somebody else while the rest of me is in a tug-o-war because it never wants to let go of me.
love and lust
love is difficult to interpret. i've never said i love you except to friends and family. i've heard it several times, but i've never said it. i think it's overused. have i felt it? yes. once. i remember it like it was yesterday: we were in his car goofing around, cracking each other up, and listening to justin timberlake and suddenly i just knew. my mind flashed forward to our future and i saw that i could do this everyday for the rest of my life and be the happiest person alive. the weird thing is that i didn't even know that i liked him until that moment and boom it was love. we never dated. i got over it. and then, there's lust. whewwwww. an all-encompassing, completely powerful, physical obsession. just having them whisper your name in your ear can give send shivers down your spine. it's completely mind-blowing. in the months leading into my sophomore year of college and then months afterward, i lusted away. i used to walk around campus with sunglasses on because i could not stop crying. i can only imagine how fun that was for kelsey, katherine, and christa. bahaha. the feeling is akin to breaking apart your skin because you've never felt so unified, or like you fit so perfectly with anyone else. but it is soooo unhealthy. obsessive even. and i think it takes more time to get over that kind of a relationship than a healthy one.
it's so good, but it's also all a crap shoot. we all go through it and we all ache. i wish there was advil for it. one thing i do know, i'll take my heart over somebody who is so detached any day of the week. maybe their bounce-back time is faster, but at least i know the depth of my love and just how good it can feel.
...i realized just now that i would never make a good journalist, only a kick-ass op-ed columnist.
love hurts and crushes suck, don't they?
this past semester, i learned why a crush is a crush... you walk away in pain. you wish you could be next to that person at all times of the day. you yearn to hear from them. you die a little inside when they walk away. you wait until next time. you hurt when next time doesn't come. you obsess over what you said and what they said. you wish you could take something back--make it sound less corny and more intellectual or witty. do anything in your power to make them feel the same. you feel crushed.
i've had enough crushes. i'm so over them. i went for a power walk/vent time/walking quality time with lindsay probably in the late april time frame and vented forever it seemed. and i finally decided that i never want to have another crush. maybe they're fun for you, but they suck too much out of me. it's like i can't function. if i'm not with them, i want to lay in my bed and think about them. and it's so horrible when you have no idea how they feel about you. it's just painful. so you just lay awake at night thinking up impossible scenarios of them going out on a limb just to love you. i told lindsay that i don't want to have another crush. i just want a friendship and then a smooth transition to a relationship. crushing sucks. i can't do it again. who knows if that will ever actually happen, but i hope i never have to go through it again because it's only fun when they're crushing too. sometimes i literally bow my head and have conversations with my heart. how ridiculous is that? i whisper to my heart and say, "you deserve to be protected and taken care of. you deserve to be appreciated. you deserve to be nurtured. you will not be stomped on. i won't allow it." it's how God sees my heart, and once my heart knows love, it's like it's on a fast track to give every piece of me to somebody else while the rest of me is in a tug-o-war because it never wants to let go of me.
love and lust
love is difficult to interpret. i've never said i love you except to friends and family. i've heard it several times, but i've never said it. i think it's overused. have i felt it? yes. once. i remember it like it was yesterday: we were in his car goofing around, cracking each other up, and listening to justin timberlake and suddenly i just knew. my mind flashed forward to our future and i saw that i could do this everyday for the rest of my life and be the happiest person alive. the weird thing is that i didn't even know that i liked him until that moment and boom it was love. we never dated. i got over it. and then, there's lust. whewwwww. an all-encompassing, completely powerful, physical obsession. just having them whisper your name in your ear can give send shivers down your spine. it's completely mind-blowing. in the months leading into my sophomore year of college and then months afterward, i lusted away. i used to walk around campus with sunglasses on because i could not stop crying. i can only imagine how fun that was for kelsey, katherine, and christa. bahaha. the feeling is akin to breaking apart your skin because you've never felt so unified, or like you fit so perfectly with anyone else. but it is soooo unhealthy. obsessive even. and i think it takes more time to get over that kind of a relationship than a healthy one.
it's so good, but it's also all a crap shoot. we all go through it and we all ache. i wish there was advil for it. one thing i do know, i'll take my heart over somebody who is so detached any day of the week. maybe their bounce-back time is faster, but at least i know the depth of my love and just how good it can feel.
...i realized just now that i would never make a good journalist, only a kick-ass op-ed columnist.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
i know why the caged bird sings
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
-Maya Angelou
...I knew this would happen. This is both what I longed for and was afraid of, and why I put off writing for so long. Tonight, Pandora's Box has been opened. I have too much to say. My mind is racing. The caged bird sings. I feel like I can't say enough orally, or am afraid to say what I'm really thinking, but I have too much to write.
I'm afraid of that. You learn to lock yourself up in a box and it becomes easy to never return to who you are. Do you know what I'm saying? You become this person that prioritizes what you know and what you don't know, what you're willing to try and what you will never try, who you will love and who you can't or refuse to love. Eventually you become good at leaving yourself in a cage simply because it's easier than breaking free and flying sometimes. In other words, you get comfortable. I was comfortable. I didn't need or want things to change and then tonight, I broke out. Dichotomous in that it's a nightmare and a dream come true. I can't believe it's been 7 months since I have written anything, let alone blogged. I mean I have journaled, but sparingly. I freaking graduated college. I had one of the most interesting and growth-filled semesters of my life and I didn't write? Why?
It's easier to keep it bottled up than to sit down and let yourself overflow. I'm thinking about getting a different blog website. It's time to move on from this study abroad blog and have more of a "Becoming Lindsay" type blog, I don't know. What I do know is that I feel inspired. Like I can do anything right now. Like I could sit here and type 17 more entries and still not feel weary. I want to run right now. I want to listen to my music. I want to get it all out, but I also want it to last.
I'm saving it for the morning.
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
-Maya Angelou
...I knew this would happen. This is both what I longed for and was afraid of, and why I put off writing for so long. Tonight, Pandora's Box has been opened. I have too much to say. My mind is racing. The caged bird sings. I feel like I can't say enough orally, or am afraid to say what I'm really thinking, but I have too much to write.
I'm afraid of that. You learn to lock yourself up in a box and it becomes easy to never return to who you are. Do you know what I'm saying? You become this person that prioritizes what you know and what you don't know, what you're willing to try and what you will never try, who you will love and who you can't or refuse to love. Eventually you become good at leaving yourself in a cage simply because it's easier than breaking free and flying sometimes. In other words, you get comfortable. I was comfortable. I didn't need or want things to change and then tonight, I broke out. Dichotomous in that it's a nightmare and a dream come true. I can't believe it's been 7 months since I have written anything, let alone blogged. I mean I have journaled, but sparingly. I freaking graduated college. I had one of the most interesting and growth-filled semesters of my life and I didn't write? Why?
It's easier to keep it bottled up than to sit down and let yourself overflow. I'm thinking about getting a different blog website. It's time to move on from this study abroad blog and have more of a "Becoming Lindsay" type blog, I don't know. What I do know is that I feel inspired. Like I can do anything right now. Like I could sit here and type 17 more entries and still not feel weary. I want to run right now. I want to listen to my music. I want to get it all out, but I also want it to last.
I'm saving it for the morning.
Brangelina Goes Hunting
I didn't really know how to pick a title because it's been so long, but you have to understand that blogging is writing and writing is your thoughts and your thoughts are your feelings and your feelings are who you are at that time...
Basically why I haven't had the courage to write in so long. It takes courage, it takes emotion, it takes blocking everything else out and letting your soul take over. I'm probably over-dramatizing this whole blog of mine, but words have such a different meaning to me, that it's not dramatic, it just is. I can't describe it any more than that. And honestly, I don't know what I'm saying right now, but I wouldn't be here, on my computer, typing all of this nonsense out at this moment, if it weren't for 2 random people who came into my life at random times, albeit all too briefly, and for some reason just won't let me stop writing. I don't know why they like to read this blog, but it makes me feel like I may actually have something to say. So, to Catie King and Kohan McNab, this one goes out to you...
I've re-typed this first sentence like 409 times already because I'm having a hard time formulating my thoughts and allowing myself to let go enough to write, so this is going to be my sentence. Whew. Here goes. The thing is that words, quotes, lines, and songs mean so much to me because they make me feel understood. It's like my soul has a voice when I hear something that describes who I am at that moment: what I'm thinking about, who is important to me and at the forefront of my mind, what I'm worrying about, etc. Do you ever turn on the radio and hear a song that just lifts your soul out of your body and carries you up into some unknown, yet completely whole world? That's the feeling I'm attempting to describe here. That's what words are to me. Honestly, I have no freaking clue why in the hell I'm writing this scattered paragraph right now and it's not at all what I initially intended to say, but now I'm purging about something that doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. It's been awhile. I guess what I'm trying to say is in a reallyyyy roundabout way is that it's hard for me to reconcile who I am when I write and who I am in my daily life. My words, on paper, or on a blog (work with me here), are me exposed and naked; they permit my mind to go places that I can't normally go, unless I'm on a road trip by myself, simply because it's taboo to be needy and thoughtful. I hate that. What I hate more than anything else is when someone calls me dramatic and emotional. Personally, I don't feel like I am all that dramatic. Emotional? Yes. Dramatic? Not so much. Maybe I am more dramatic than I think, but I like to think I'm not flailing myself onto the ground because daddy won't buy me the pink horse that I wanted for my birthday. Perhaps that's more theatrical? I don't know. I think that I hate being described as dramatic and emotional, though, simply because they hold such negative connotations, especially with my family. I am a feeler. To my best friend Laura Beth, that's nothing new. I feel things so hard. Certain moments and specific people just bring out these emotions in me that makes me feel as though I was just crushed against the wall by a nuclear blast or something. But, words are so meaningful to me, whether they be in the form of a song or a poem or a powerful quote, because they make me feel understood. Like someone gets me. It's like a breath of fresh air. See, that right there was dramatic, but it's true. I'm done trying to be this fake person who everyone thinks I should be. I feel things, okay? Sometimes I want to know that I'm needed and sometimes I need. I worry... a lot. About people, about circumstances, about moving, about adapting, about what my life would be like after graduation. I think all the time, and if I had my way I would think about this or that person all day long while attempting to formulate my thoughts towards them in a meaningful way. At the same time, I simply long for them to know how much I care about them because I'm not the greatest speaker. I'm not so good at talking face-to-face unless you have earned my trust and appreciate my heart, meaning that you are not the kind of person who will criticize me for caring. Because, let's face it, people that feel and care are always criticized. I'm not a depressed person; in fact, I'm anything but that. Been there, done that. I'm happy in my life, but that doesn't keep me from feeling things at a deeper level. That's why my soul can both soar like there's no tomorrow and be crushed into a million fatalities simply because of words.
I can be so easily wounded. I hate that about myself. I wouldn't normally write that, but I feel like the amount of traffic this blog sees is few and far between, so I no longer care. This is me right now... But, what I was saying is that I'm easily wounded. I'm also sooooo easily touched. For those two reasons among a few other major events in my life that played a huge part in defining who I am, I am heavily guarded. Mind you, there are a select few individuals who have weaseled their way into my life, put their hands on their hips, and demanded to know me. I can't tell you how much I love those people and how protective I am of them. It's not like I'm unloved, that's not what I'm saying. And if you think that's what I'm saying, please stop reading this blog right now because you just totally took the word misunderstanding to a whole other level. I am severely and deeply loved. I can't get enough love. I love and am loved. Get that through your thick skull. It's being known that is the hard thing. It's having a thought and having someone there to interpret your thoughts, despite not uttering a word, just because you are one thing: known.
I just got back from a great week at the beach with my whole extended family (the Holden clan). I love them sooo much. It's like the earth shifts with the amount of love our extended family has for one another. You can breathe it in the air. You can taste it on your tongue. It's there. It's that overly-protective, severely invasive, you can never run away from it kind of love. It's great. I feel like I have finally accepted and grown comfortable with who I am, though. I have finally accepted that I bring a whole new meaning to the personas of being a feeler and a lover. It's part of who I am. It's not the way to survive in this world. And I think that's why I've been fighting against myself for so long. I used to want to be this powerful business woman who never had a glass ceiling, but who climbed and climbed. Now, I just want to be me. I love myself... finally. I love my thoughts, I love who my friends are, I love my family, I love my body, I think I'm hilarious, and I want those things to be known. For so long, people kept telling me that I'm too sensitive and that I need thicker skin, so what did I do? I threw up walls. I have so many walls that even I am blinded by them. They are a defense mechanism that came up out of a sub-conscious need to arrest the side of me that wasn't what the world wanted simply so I could survive. They protected me from not only discovering and learning to love myself, but also from what people had to think about me. I don't know why I used the past tense there either... because they are still up. I'm guarded. It takes time to get to know me. I'm one of "those" people. At the same time, I hate it, because most of the time, I want to be known by the people that blow "those" guarded individuals off... simply because they take too much time. Anyway, as much as I feel loved by some of my family and friends, I don't always feel known. What bothers me is that I don't know how to reconcile that at all. It's like I know that I am loved, but I feel misunderstood at the same time. I'm having a conversation with someone whom I know loves me, but my soul is screaming for them to hear me, to feel me, to understand what I'm trying to say.
This is such a confusing post and I don't know why I'm even writing it because it isn't at all what I intended to write, but alas, here I am. And the thing is that I don't think I'm the only one who feels that way. I think a lot of people, especially the underdogs, feel that way and that is why they struggle to believe in themselves, to deem themselves capable, to love themselves... I think we need to do a better job of loving people.
That's all I'm trying to say today.
Basically why I haven't had the courage to write in so long. It takes courage, it takes emotion, it takes blocking everything else out and letting your soul take over. I'm probably over-dramatizing this whole blog of mine, but words have such a different meaning to me, that it's not dramatic, it just is. I can't describe it any more than that. And honestly, I don't know what I'm saying right now, but I wouldn't be here, on my computer, typing all of this nonsense out at this moment, if it weren't for 2 random people who came into my life at random times, albeit all too briefly, and for some reason just won't let me stop writing. I don't know why they like to read this blog, but it makes me feel like I may actually have something to say. So, to Catie King and Kohan McNab, this one goes out to you...
I've re-typed this first sentence like 409 times already because I'm having a hard time formulating my thoughts and allowing myself to let go enough to write, so this is going to be my sentence. Whew. Here goes. The thing is that words, quotes, lines, and songs mean so much to me because they make me feel understood. It's like my soul has a voice when I hear something that describes who I am at that moment: what I'm thinking about, who is important to me and at the forefront of my mind, what I'm worrying about, etc. Do you ever turn on the radio and hear a song that just lifts your soul out of your body and carries you up into some unknown, yet completely whole world? That's the feeling I'm attempting to describe here. That's what words are to me. Honestly, I have no freaking clue why in the hell I'm writing this scattered paragraph right now and it's not at all what I initially intended to say, but now I'm purging about something that doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. It's been awhile. I guess what I'm trying to say is in a reallyyyy roundabout way is that it's hard for me to reconcile who I am when I write and who I am in my daily life. My words, on paper, or on a blog (work with me here), are me exposed and naked; they permit my mind to go places that I can't normally go, unless I'm on a road trip by myself, simply because it's taboo to be needy and thoughtful. I hate that. What I hate more than anything else is when someone calls me dramatic and emotional. Personally, I don't feel like I am all that dramatic. Emotional? Yes. Dramatic? Not so much. Maybe I am more dramatic than I think, but I like to think I'm not flailing myself onto the ground because daddy won't buy me the pink horse that I wanted for my birthday. Perhaps that's more theatrical? I don't know. I think that I hate being described as dramatic and emotional, though, simply because they hold such negative connotations, especially with my family. I am a feeler. To my best friend Laura Beth, that's nothing new. I feel things so hard. Certain moments and specific people just bring out these emotions in me that makes me feel as though I was just crushed against the wall by a nuclear blast or something. But, words are so meaningful to me, whether they be in the form of a song or a poem or a powerful quote, because they make me feel understood. Like someone gets me. It's like a breath of fresh air. See, that right there was dramatic, but it's true. I'm done trying to be this fake person who everyone thinks I should be. I feel things, okay? Sometimes I want to know that I'm needed and sometimes I need. I worry... a lot. About people, about circumstances, about moving, about adapting, about what my life would be like after graduation. I think all the time, and if I had my way I would think about this or that person all day long while attempting to formulate my thoughts towards them in a meaningful way. At the same time, I simply long for them to know how much I care about them because I'm not the greatest speaker. I'm not so good at talking face-to-face unless you have earned my trust and appreciate my heart, meaning that you are not the kind of person who will criticize me for caring. Because, let's face it, people that feel and care are always criticized. I'm not a depressed person; in fact, I'm anything but that. Been there, done that. I'm happy in my life, but that doesn't keep me from feeling things at a deeper level. That's why my soul can both soar like there's no tomorrow and be crushed into a million fatalities simply because of words.
I can be so easily wounded. I hate that about myself. I wouldn't normally write that, but I feel like the amount of traffic this blog sees is few and far between, so I no longer care. This is me right now... But, what I was saying is that I'm easily wounded. I'm also sooooo easily touched. For those two reasons among a few other major events in my life that played a huge part in defining who I am, I am heavily guarded. Mind you, there are a select few individuals who have weaseled their way into my life, put their hands on their hips, and demanded to know me. I can't tell you how much I love those people and how protective I am of them. It's not like I'm unloved, that's not what I'm saying. And if you think that's what I'm saying, please stop reading this blog right now because you just totally took the word misunderstanding to a whole other level. I am severely and deeply loved. I can't get enough love. I love and am loved. Get that through your thick skull. It's being known that is the hard thing. It's having a thought and having someone there to interpret your thoughts, despite not uttering a word, just because you are one thing: known.
I just got back from a great week at the beach with my whole extended family (the Holden clan). I love them sooo much. It's like the earth shifts with the amount of love our extended family has for one another. You can breathe it in the air. You can taste it on your tongue. It's there. It's that overly-protective, severely invasive, you can never run away from it kind of love. It's great. I feel like I have finally accepted and grown comfortable with who I am, though. I have finally accepted that I bring a whole new meaning to the personas of being a feeler and a lover. It's part of who I am. It's not the way to survive in this world. And I think that's why I've been fighting against myself for so long. I used to want to be this powerful business woman who never had a glass ceiling, but who climbed and climbed. Now, I just want to be me. I love myself... finally. I love my thoughts, I love who my friends are, I love my family, I love my body, I think I'm hilarious, and I want those things to be known. For so long, people kept telling me that I'm too sensitive and that I need thicker skin, so what did I do? I threw up walls. I have so many walls that even I am blinded by them. They are a defense mechanism that came up out of a sub-conscious need to arrest the side of me that wasn't what the world wanted simply so I could survive. They protected me from not only discovering and learning to love myself, but also from what people had to think about me. I don't know why I used the past tense there either... because they are still up. I'm guarded. It takes time to get to know me. I'm one of "those" people. At the same time, I hate it, because most of the time, I want to be known by the people that blow "those" guarded individuals off... simply because they take too much time. Anyway, as much as I feel loved by some of my family and friends, I don't always feel known. What bothers me is that I don't know how to reconcile that at all. It's like I know that I am loved, but I feel misunderstood at the same time. I'm having a conversation with someone whom I know loves me, but my soul is screaming for them to hear me, to feel me, to understand what I'm trying to say.
This is such a confusing post and I don't know why I'm even writing it because it isn't at all what I intended to write, but alas, here I am. And the thing is that I don't think I'm the only one who feels that way. I think a lot of people, especially the underdogs, feel that way and that is why they struggle to believe in themselves, to deem themselves capable, to love themselves... I think we need to do a better job of loving people.
That's all I'm trying to say today.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
