You know those bad surprises? The ones you discover and then feel like you got punched in the stomach, maybe multiple times?
Yeah. Just experienced one of those–in conjunction with about 3 solid doses of irony.
I’m not going to mince words–I feel like shit. Haven’t started crying yet, but maybe that’s an even worse sign.
(In other news, I just typoed and wrote “song” instead of “sign.” So let’s move on to that.)
Sometimes I forget I’m talking to people. Like, I finish talking to them and then realize that I wasn’t really talking to them like they’re real people; I’m talking to them like I’m in a video game and the sentence I have to say to them is my challenge. I feel like I cheat them out of my real thoughts, but I don’t know if they can tell.
I don’t remember which school of thought states that maybe there aren’t actually multiple people in the world–maybe there’s just me, and God (or some external force) puts other people and situations on earth just to test me and teach me. It’s an interesting-if a little narcissistic-idea.
It also helps me think of things more linearly … as in, it helps me be more diplomatic in my approach to people. I don’t worry so much about figuring out how to please each person individually, because they exist as a learning experience for me.
But then, one has to wonder, what if they think the same thing? What if I’m simply a learning experience for them? Clearly, then, life is not this existential illusion. But that, too, is a learning experience.
Have you ever seen someone looking around, arranged your face into a pleasant half-smile (just in case they look at you, you want to look friendly) and looked away, then looked back at them and they’re smiling because they saw your smile and it was contagious? It’s a really good feeling :) And it takes almost no energy at all–just a little presence of mind. Try it!
By the way, I have very little patience with myself when I hold off on blogging for the “right time” or until I have a good idea, or until I can elaborate on a thought. So I think I’m just going to treat it like it’s a Twitter account with a more lengthy character limit and write thoughts as they come up. Especially because most of the time I’m sitting in the most boring and annoying class in the world. Leave me comments!
If you’re at Evergreen:
and a teacher says “fair effort,” something is wrong.
and a teacher says, “you’ll want to know this, if for no other reason than that it will be on the test.”
and a teacher says, “you can’t do that project; that’s not what we’re studying in this class” or “that’s not what we’re interested in.”
and you don’t feel creative
or you feel restricted
or you’re not sure where you’re going
or you don’t feel like you can talk to your faculty…
I say, GET OUT NOW. Problem is, that would be hypocritical, because I’m stuck in that situation and CAN’T get out. At least, not without dropping 12 credits, which is extremely problematic.
1) Wrap up my old freelance writing job that has been hanging over my head. I can’t keep up with it, don’t want to, and it’s just making me feel guilty all the time.
2) Buy some food with which I can efficiently make meals and have leftovers for lunch the next day.
3) Start reading some stuff for fun.
4) Write reviews on here about what I’ve read.
5) Review music, like I’ve always said I would do.
6) GET OVER BEING HOMESICK ALL THE TIME.
7) Write write write. For fun. Submit an article to the newspaper (it shouldn’t be too hard. I mean, we ARE the newspaper.)
8) Make an appointment with my teacher to talk about her class, which I have recently come to despise.
9) Catch up on French. Pouvez-vous practiquer le francais avec moi?
10) Sleep.
11) Clean room.
12) Watch movies that enlighten and inform.
13) Light more candles.
14) Figure out what I want. What do I want? I know what I don’t want. Isn’t that helpful enough?
15) Call my poor grandmother who worries about me all the time.
16) Love love love.
This is a manipulated song about just wanting to mean the world to that friend who means the world to you. You have a lot of history, but somehow those times seem to get lost or forgotten, and before long you start to fear you can’t remember what that bond was in the beginning. You want everyone to know all that you’ve shared. Wanting a soulmate is not selfish.
Hello, tell me you know. Yeah, you’ve figured me out? Something gave it away…
It would be such a beautiful moment to see the look on your face, to know that I know that you know now.
I guess that’s a case of my wishful thinking: You know nothing. You and I, we can carry on for hours on end. We get along much better than you and that person you’re interested in.
Well, all I really want to do is love you,
The kind that the closest of friends use.
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through.
And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me.
Well, how long can I go on like this, wishing to be your everything, before I rightly explode?
And this double life I lead isn’t healthy for me; in fact, it makes me nervous. If you find out, I could be risking it all… There’s a lot that I’d miss in case…
All I really want to do is love you,
The kind that the closest of friends use,
But I still cant say it after all we’ve been through.
And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me
If I should be so bold, I’d ask you to hold my heart in your hand, and tell you from the start how I’ve longed to be your friend. But I never said a word– I guess I’m gonna miss my chance again.
Well, all I really want to do is love you
The kind that the closest of friends use
But I still can’t say it after all we’ve been through.
And all I really want from you is to feel me,
As the feeling inside keeps building.
And I will find a way to you if it kills me, if it kills me.
[Song thanks to Jason Mraz, of course. Speaking of soulmates...]
I have about ten saved drafts of other posts I’ve started over the past couple weeks… but on this day, I feel more like starting anew.
You know how they tell you in high school that once you get into “the real world, then blah blah blah”? I never knew whether the Real World started after college, or before, or during, or at the moment of graduation from high school, or right when you became financially independent, or what. Who knows whether any of us are in the Real World at all. (I know that statement is a little too Matrix-y, but whether it’s a metaphor or not, sometimes there IS a world (or many other worlds) out there to which we are blind or deaf).
Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the world in my head. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in a fantasy world created by the media. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the Real World.
This is what the real world is like: In college, they don’t hold a moment of silence for the lives lost during 9/11/01. I remember in middle and high school (gawd, I’m old) when we would stand with bowed heads, and I’m sure it happens still. But I’m not in an environment where that’s done, and I don’t know why. It’s not that I want that moment of silence…
I think I just want to comprehend the suffering of others. Or maybe I don’t, but I feel like I should. For instance, I have a friend who is in Ghana right now (her blog is at http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/. She updates often and her insight is really great–check it out). She’s sort of a participant observer in the third world/developing country scheme there, and she witnesses first hand the conditions in which the natives live.
It seems like things like that are really valued in our society, because we like to think we’re pretty privileged (when it’s put in perspective). On the other hand, being able to step back and have an honest, solid empathy for those who are suffering is “good.” When Hurricane Katrina happened, the rest of the United States felt sympathetic toward the victims and their loss.
When 9/11 happened, people all over the United States empathized and mourned (partly because it was a threat to everyone, not just those in NYC and the Pentagon).
But what if I can’t comprehend that?
I end up feeling completely heartless simply because I don’t understand suffering. I know what it is, of course, and I’ve experienced a tiny bit myself on a very small scale, but I just haven’t been able to look at suffering in terms of feelings. In other words, I can listen to specific stories of people’s losses around 9/11 and genuinely feel bad for them, but I can’t share their sorrow.
I look at Katrina as a mass loss of homes, pets, belongings, finances, loved ones… but not as a loss of hope or a loss of esteem.
I look at 9/11 as a mass loss of lives and loss of assets (buildings, money). I know it is symbolic, but I have some sort of emotional block from knowing what that really means for our country and for the people more directly affected by the attack.
And I won’t lie; I feel quite awful about all of this. It’s not like I’m apathetic toward everything. It’s just that I guess I have no way of translating that sorrow, so far removed from me, to something closer to home.
But how important is it, to share that burden of sorrow? I feel like it’s a duty for me as an American citizen to feel personally hurt and scared by the events of 9/11. I don’t. But is that something around which the United States really needs to rally?! Do we really need to take on some more pain, and remember it every year?
I may not be very adept [yet?] at feeling empathetic toward others’ pain, but I can sure as hell share their joy.
Heidi, my friend in Ghana, said that she witnessed a funeral procession in one Ghanian village where one of the elderly men in the town had just died. She says, “It was strange to see the way they celebrated the life of the 85-year-old man who had died instead of mourning the fact that he was gone. Even the signs posted around town announced the ‘Celebration of Life,’ not the ‘Funeral ‘or ‘Ceremony.’” (http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/2009/09/830-first-little-big-adventure.html).
I think joy is more universal than sorrow. Even with all the famine, disease, poverty, and other misfortunes ailing many parts of the world, those trials only make small things easier to appreciate, therefore creating more joy. Why don’t we rally around hope? Didn’t Barack Obama’s campaign prove that hope is a much more effective tool?
For a while, I remember plans being laid for an “uplifting” memorial to 9/11 at Ground Zero. While I do think it’s important to keep such an event in our history, I remember a line from one of my favorite movies saying something like, “the best way to forget something is by commemorating it.” Are we afraid of seeming heartless if we just move on? Are we not saving the victims still suffering from the effects of the attacks from enduring further strife?
In a way, it’s not so bad to not comprehend suffering. In fact, I think it’s pretty normal. I think confusion is a more natural and positive response than anger and hatred (but that’s not saying much).
How long did the people who started blaming others for the attacks stop to ruminate on what had actually happened? Life should not be a grand “whodunnit?” setup. Some things are mysteries, including the human brain, heart, and soul, as well as their feelings and functions.
I am not saying that we wouldn’t need to find out who was responsible for something like 9/11. I’m also not saying that anger is not part of the grieving process (i.e., anger IS part of the grieving process). But what do we need to do (personally and on a larger scale) to ensure that compassion is ALSO part of the process, enough to the point where we realize that anger and hatred are only bred from not understanding. We don’t understand death; it has always been mysterious. But we also know that to every time, there is a season. In the heat of the moment, it’s impossible to recognize something like that. I just wonder when blame has solved a problem, and whether it’s reliable enough to keep trying.
Though I may live in a bubble, and only venture into the Real World occasionally, my bubble does facilitate some self reflection. If I’m honest with myself in admitting that I don’t understand suffering and I don’t understand death, I can also realize that I share more common ground with people in joy than in sorrow. Rather than using ignorance in a way that is harmful to myself and others, I would like to exploit the similarity of joy, and breed compassion, hope, and love. Love can penetrate any personal bubble.
“Limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on, across the universe.” -The Beatles.
You know how people always say that the most frustrating thing is feeling like you want to cry, but for some reason you just can’t?
Well, I disagree.
The most frustrating thing is feeling like you want to cry, and being completely willing and able to do so, but too busy to actually let yourself cry.
Some would just “get it over with,” but that’s impossible when you know it could last for at least a good half hour (and that’s a LOT of time essentially wasted when you have a ton to do), plus it will give you a raging headache/migraine afterwards, which will be a complete handicap when it comes to getting things done. At the same time, all the thoughts that made you feel like crying in the first place buzz around your head while you’re trying to accomplish things, and that’s pretty much all you can think about.
Is this too depressing? I’m trying to keep it real. I mean, I think most people have had this experience. Am I right? Can I hear an amen?
This is from almost a week ago, yikes.
By day two, not only have I unpacked almost everything except my clothes (which, really, I should have unpacked first), but I have also had company over. And not just my dad! My friend Emily (from Oly, not Cd’A) came over with her sister, and then a former floormate, Ian, dropped by. He had other motives, however; he was convinced that a menage a trois was going to take place.
Anyway, I cooked rice in one of the AMAZING pots Haley got (I doubt she knows just how great they are, since she never cooks, but maybe this year she’ll start) and besides that, all I could offer was apple juice and milk… But it was so fun! I definitely want to do that more, as well as having potlucks and just general cooking parties. We could make sushi one day, except that Haley hates sushi…
By the way, I’m not sure I added this in my last post, but I have a few tips on moving (now that I’m just such a seasoned pro, ha ha).
1. This is passed down from at least my grandmother, and it may go back farther. When everything is in your new place, the absolute first thing you should do is locate your sheets and make your bed. It sounds odd, but it means that when the day ends and you’re positively exhausted, you won’t have to do one more thing before you crawl into bed. Nice, huh?
2. I maintain that if you keep things clean from the beginning, it will be easier to do it later on, because you know what clean looks like. In the coming months days, we’ll see if this is true.
3. On your first or second day, scope out a walking path or trail around your house, or a route that you’ll be motivated to follow. Then, when you don’t want to leave the house, get outside, and walk somewhere, you won’t have the excuse, “well, I don’t know where to go!”
…That’s all I have so far. Anyone want to suggest some more?
Today I moved into my own apartment. It is an epic day and one which will live in infamy.
It’s not exactly mine; my roommate moves in in two weeks. But for now, it’s all mine…
And it is the most glorious feeling in the world.
The things from my storage space came in, the things from home came in, we went shopping (and among the first things I bought, of course, was butter. Just like Julia Child had suggested!), the groceries came in, the dogs came in (my dad was helping me move, and he brought the dogs from home, YAY!), and I came in.
I don’t know why it’s so good, or how to explain it, but it’s just the best thing ever. I’m pretty sure I felt very similar to this when I moved into my dorm, but not exactly. This is completely different. I have bills to pay, mouths to feed (well, not really… just mine), and it’s amazing.
Like every apartment, it has its drawbacks, but for the most part, it is perfect, right down to the chipped molding and weird drawer system. I have a walk-in closet, my own bathroom, and at least as much room as I had in my bedroom at home.
As I’m writing this, cars are speeding by on the road that lies RIGHT next to our building, but it’s all good. Actually, even that is quite amazing. I live next to a ROAD!!!!
I’ll continue to update “you” about how this is all working. So far, I moved everything into the kitchen first, just because I was so excited that I HAD one.
The things I need to buy:
Tupperware, a set of knives, a standing light (because there’s no overhead light in my room), some more groceries, a shower curtain, and probably some more hangers.
Does anyone know a cheap place to look for these things? Especially the knives and shower curtain. The other things can come from Goodwill or Safeway or Costco. I’m thinking Ikea for the lamp thing…
Going to bed now, to rest for a full day of journalism training tomorrow. Wild Life!!!
OK, so just to prove that I really *did* have something to say this whole time, I’m posting this, which I wrote between Colorado and New Mexico. Enjoy!
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It was as if vertical didn’t exist. The whole landscape consisted of horizontal levels of different elements: a straight, flat road, flat sagebrush land, and in the distance, a layer of blue or brown depending on the direction. These were mountains, but you couldn’t tell they were mountains because the clouds hung so low.
It was as if we were in an orb; the clouds seemed high enough above us, but on the horizon they sunk lower and lower, and land might not have even existed beyond them.
We had left the land of color, and it was becoming obvious that we might not see much color for a while, especially if the clouds didn’t lift
I’ve never seen the clouds so low. If I stood on top of the car, I might even be able to touch them. Full and dark and reducing to wisps the lower they got, but remaining ominous. Yellow daisies lined the road, and the sky seemed to be blue beyond the clouds, but it was quickly dimming as the sun went down.
A few children were crouching at the horizon, holding paper cutouts of clouds at different heights in the sky. As we moved, they became two dimensional and looked like individual pieces of gray instead of an indistinguishable colorless blue.
Every once in a while, things would become a little more green or blue or yellow, but most of the time they were steadily getting less colored. Mom would point and say, “treeee!” and I would point at a truck with straw flying off of it and say, “hay!” because that’s what she used to do with me. And whenever we saw a sign, mom would read it. Just in case I hadn’t seen it, even though writing would be hard to miss in this area.
The time of day would be best described as twilight, which is a little sad to admit. The moon was a little sliver to our left, against a background of, if you have your crayon set handy, a very light sky blue crossed with cerulean.
“Post office,” mom said as we passed that sign and rolled into a sad little town that was mostly boarded up and had one flashing yellow light, just like in Radiator Springs, from Cars.
I just finished making a batch of delectable wheat-free almond spice cookies. They’re positively amazing, not to brag or anything. They’re better than any of the wheat-free cookies I’ve ever had, and better than any of the cookies I’ve had made with rice flour, which is very heavy and leaves a questionable aftertaste. I found the recipe in one of my mom’s Yoga Journals and made them with millet flour, tapioca flour, and potato flour starch, along with many spices and sugar and yumminess.
Turns out, they’re not as good the next day. But I remain impressed with myself that I actually got off my ass and made something that I’m proud of. yay me!
I’ve been so extremely lazy lately. I’m housesitting and don’t have internet at the house, so all I can do is walk the dog and play with her, read, and watch tv, and I can write articles if I happen to get an assignment.
Ew. I’m sitting in a coffee shop and all these people are around me with whom I went to school for various years are talking and they’re loud and sigggghhhhhhh. I’m pretty sure they all go to U of I now. And this girl is dressed like she’s a freshman in high school, yet she just announced that she’s “technically a junior” in college. She dropped one of her majors and moved up, apparently. I am SO glad I don’t have to worry about all that crap. People give me funny looks when I tell them I don’t have majors or grades or anything, but it is a complete blessing.
You know that science class you took in high school, with that science teacher you didn’t particularly care for, in which you had to memorize all those chemicals and then get tested on them, where you have to pass in order to receive a very meaningless letter grade that is your ticket to the next dull, tedious class that you may or may not have any interest in? And then, to your horror, it continues in college! College, where you are supposed to be able to choose whichever classes you like, and you are guaranteed to like them since they fit your major! But noooo, you have to go through more and more meaninglessness with those stupid required classes that may or may not have anything to do with your desired path of study and subsequent career, but you are assured that “at some point” they will be relevant, just like many teachers in high school told you that “one day” that math would come in handy. ha.
I love my school.
Nearly all of my books on spirituality (especially Eastern philosophy and spirituality) have orange on their covers. Bear with me while I decode that…
Sorry for the obnoxiously short post; I’m barely at home before leaving to the cabin again :) Have an excellent day!
My mom is leaving tomorrow for southern Idaho, so for a while we had a plan to carpool a ways down there. She would drop me off at a monastery and I would spend a couple nights down there, volunteering and just hanging out, because I’ve never been in that kind of environment before. Then I found out that their facilities aren’t really open to that right now–only to retreats. Which means it would be two nights/three days in complete devotion to God, and I don’t think I’m ready for that. That’s pretty intense, and I feel like such an amateur.
Anyway, it turns out that they’re booked up for this weekend, so I’m not able to stay there even if I had the guts. It’s sad that I would even need guts to visit a monastery, for Heaven’s sake, but it’s true. Situations like that have always intimidated me. When I got to my middle/high school, everyone was familiar with the Bible and I barely knew where Genesis was. I’ve gotten a bit better, and a little more confident, but I still freeze up every time I enter a Catholic church. When do I kneel? When do I stand? With which hand do I cross myself?
It’s odd that I have some friends to whom this is all second nature… then, I have some friends who have only memorized the moves and rituals from movies, and some who have never stepped inside a Catholic church. I love them all, of course. But I do become wary of people who don’t really step out of their box.
That’s why Caleb and I are looking into “touring” some churches in the area, just to get some variety before I leave again. And when I do leave, I’d like to keep going to a church, because I love the experience. Last Sunday, after church, my dad asked me what it was like after the sermon. “Do people leave immediately, or mill around, or dissect the sermon, or what?”
After thinking for a moment, I likened it to the moments after a Sweet Adelines rehearsal. We sing a closing song, usually with hands held, and close with a big finish. We’re all smiling at each other and praising each other for a job well done, no matter how the evening went. Then, when we release hands, there’s a “beat” (as they say in the acting community) where everyone just sort of sighs.
It’s marvelous how similar things are in the churches I’ve been to. As the congregation closes with a song or a rousing chorus, everyone feels unified and vibrantly alert of each other and the reason they are all gathered there. Then, like the end of a rehearsal, there is a moment like a sigh–it isn’t silent, and it’s not particularly reverent, but it is somewhat thoughtful.
That’s a pretty cool moment, though it’s usually unremarkable. I mean, it’s also just the moment when everyone picks up their Bible and purse, begins talking to their neighbor, and makes their way out of the pew. Life goes on. It’s ordinary. But it’s the most comfortable moment, because there’s so much to think about, and yet it’s a very tense moment, because there’s so much responsibility. I always feel pretty pressured to keep up the kind of faithfulness I’ve felt for the past hour. And even that is a pretty awesome (yes, awe-some) feeling… but it’s also near impossible.
As many a pastor has said, “life gets in the way.” Sometimes I wish I were someone like Rumi or Aristotle or the Dalai Lama, for whom life probably does not get in the way. Feeling faithful IS their life. Hopefully they know how lucky they are.
[This article was originally a continuation of the post below, TwitterBurger.]
I can’t help it; I love looking at every single one of people’s Tweets. You never know what you might miss, I suppose… and some are really quite profound or inspirational. Take this, for example: I follow Deepak Chopra (if you don’t know who he is…look it up), and he has some really amazing quotes. Today he Tweeted: “We have fallen into the place where everything is music. -Rumi“
I would imagine that this has something to do with Rumi’s general teachings (I had to look this up too): He believed that he had been disconnected from his creator and had begun to think himself above it/him/her, but that he had the ultimate goal to reconnect with his primal roots and restore that relationship.
So at first, the quote that Deepak Chopra Tweeted seemed a little… derogatory, shall we say? towards music. If we have “fallen” to that place where everything is music, it doesn’t seem very positive. It makes me think of falling from grace, or “falling” as a sort of failure. So despite my unconditional love for music, my conclusion was that perhaps Rumi saw music as monotony? To say that “We have fallen into the place where everything is monotonous” would make much more sense, since monotony isn’t really something we strive for, and it could definitely be said that our world has become monotonous (despite all the Twittering).
However, even my extremely rudimentary Rumi research through Wikipedia told me that Rumi was anything but skeptical or pessimistic towards music. Apparently, he wholeheartedly believed that music was one of the best ways to get back in touch with his creator or God.
(At this point I must stress that if you know anything about Rumi, please tell me, because I’m completely at a loss and I’m a little distrustful of Wikipedia sometimes.)
Anyway, Wiki says that Rumi thought poetry, music, and dancing were the ways in which people were most spiritual and soulful. The idea of “whirling dervishes” (which I always thought were a kind of garden ornament) originated around Rumi’s time. They were so invested in the sounds that they would move in whatever way the spirit moved them, which often resulted in spinning. Pretty soon, this sort of dancing became a ritual, during which Rumi believed that the soul was damaged and repaired, and when it was repaired, there was a renewed devotion to God.
From Wiki: “In this journey, the seeker symbolically turns towards the truth, grows through love, abandons the ego, finds the truth, and arrives at the Perfect. The seeker then returns from this spiritual journey, with greater maturity, to love and to be of service to the whole of creation without discrimination with regard to beliefs, races, classes, and nations.”
Honestly, this sounds amazing. I was never one for believing that the soul could have just one point of revelation; rather, it is always evolving and maturing. But for the alternative, it’s an amazing idea. And of course, whether you believe the soul goes through one very powerful transformation or many, I do concur with the idea that music plays a huge part of it.
“Falling into music” is a little bittersweet, and actually I think I was partially right in my analysis of it. We’ve fallen into a place where everything is monotonous, but we can choose to see it as music, because that is all we have. And because music is so powerful, we can choose to make something of it and use it to our advantage, not just in the world but for ourselves, spiritually. And once we change ourselves, we are well on our way to changing the world anyway.
At this exact moment, I wish blog entries were released via snail-mail first. I don’t know why. It’s not like I ever send snail mail (or receive it). But I guess it’s just so easy to file. With emails, you may have to read the first few lines to know whether to delete it or read it. But with most junk snail mail, all you have to do is look at the envelope. Sometimes the junk envelopes are different colors or they have “act now!” stamps on them.
No wonder it’s junk; who would want to be burdened with more things that demand immediate action? I just got TweetDeck and Seesmic, which are apps for Twitter and Facebook so that all your updates are accessible on your desktop, without having to access the actual web pages. You can also change your status for either Twitter or Facebook from your desktop. They’re updated by the minute, which is actually rather nerve-wracking, not time-saving. If you have either of these apps, you may know what I’m talking about:
One of your favorite musicians posts a question and it shows up on your Twitter feed: “I’m at In-n-Out, what kind of burger should I have?” You can imagine that they’re probably getting a thousand responses already, but for some reason you think you should chime in. After all, they are asking, and maybe they’ll go with your answer! You go to the box where you can change your status, but you have to make sure that it only goes to Twitter, not to Facebook. Then you have to do the little “@” reference, then make sure you spell their screen name right. At this point, you’re wondering if this celebrity is even still wondering which burger to order, but you’ve come this far, so you might as well post an answer. The thing is, you didn’t actually have any type of burger in mind in the first place. You really couldn’t care less which type of burger she gets; you just wanted to be part of the decision making process. Which, now that you come to think of it, is really quite lame. Maybe she wasn’t even looking for fans to answer; she really just wanted her close friends to answer. But again, you’ve come this far… so you tell her to get a veggie burger with cheese, even though she’s vegan, because it’s what you would get. And then you post… and it’s all over. A few minutes later, she Tweets about getting a veggie burger, but you wonder if your Tweet even got to her in time to influence her decision, or whether she even read it, or whether she cared at all. You firmly resolve to never respond directly to celebrities. And then, an even more favorite musician Tweets, asking all his fans what they thought the meaning of life is. Ahhh, damn.
True story.
But I can’t help it; I love looking at every single one of people’s Tweets. You never know what you might miss, I suppose… and some are really quite profound or inspirational. Take this, for example: I follow Deepak Chopra (if you don’t know who he is…look it up), and he has some really amazing quotes. Today he Tweeted: “We have fallen into the place where everything is music. -Rumi“
Needless to say, I will be reading some Rumi.
[This post is continued as an article above, Illuminating Ruminating.]
Wavelengths are powerful; sharing wavelengths with someone is even more so. It’s one thing to be in agreement with someone verbally; it’s another thing to share the same thoughts; it’s another thing to share feelings.
I don’t think all of that comes automatically with someone. People may talk about love at first sight, but even though the lusty feeling may be there, the synchronicity takes some work. And it’s not any different with a friendship. In fact, it’s even more difficult to develop mutuality, because you don’t have the initial lust from which to develop common ground. But when you do reach that ultimate mutuality, in any relationship, it’s the best feeling in the world–but it still demands attention and effort.
One of my criteria for having a romantic relationship is that we both have to have a mutual respect. We should share other things mutually as well, but respect is first and foremost for me.
So I often wonder if this isn’t my main problem with Christianity. If I want a relationship with God and/or with Christ, I seem to have this innate desire for it to be mutual, and that’s just not possible. The idea that we owe so much to Christ, who bled and died for our sins, is sort of a deterrent–meaning that we can never “break even” because of our sin nature and all that. But wouldn’t it be great if the phrase “what a friend we have in Jesus” was actually true, and it actually was a friendship?
“What a friend we have in Jesus,/ all our sins and griefs to bear/…/ Can we find a friend so faithful/ who will all our sorrows share?/ Jesus knows our every weakness/…/ Are we weak and heavy-laden,/ Cumbered with a load of care?/ Precious Savior, still our refuge/…/ Thou wilt find a solace there.”
Maybe it is mutual. Maybe Jesus does bear our burdens and we bear his, like friends do. Maybe he does want the best for us, and in a way, we want the best for him– for the ideals he embodied. The biggest difference is that a friendship with Jesus doesn’t involve immediate gratification. While it’s possible to have tons of fun with a best friend, it’s not really possible to have a party with Jesus… unless you dole out peyote as a party favor. But instead, the time when we get to join Jesus is at the “end” of the friendship.
“Soon in glory bright, unclouded,/ There will be no need for prayer./ Rapture, praise, and endless worship/ will be our sweet portion there.”
Or is it the beginning? Perhaps life is a long courtship with Jesus, and Heaven is the real beginning of a beautiful friendship.
[Song: "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," by Joseph M. Scriven.]
The downside of introducing your blog to lots of people who know you is that then it’s very awkward to actually blog about them.
So in other news…
I changed my desktop background. Boring, no? But it’s a gorgeous picture I took at the Grand Canyon, and it reminds me of the amazing trip my mom and I took last year. Good times.
Went to Caleb’s again today–we sorted and resorted bottles of soda. No, really. It was tons of fun. But of course, if I were with Caleb I’d probably think watching the stock market change was fun, so that’s not saying much. Church tomorrow, and I’ll probably blog about that.
Besides my simple goal of blogging every day, I’d like to develop some trends. Sundays and Tuesdays can be faith days, and if I go to church or something like that I’ll talk about the experience. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are music days. Thursdays are random, things-on-the-street days, and maybe movie reviews, and Saturdays can be fiction days.
Ahhh this is so exciting! I feel like I need to catch up for every week I’ve been blogging and not done this. wow.
Also, I have a few resolutions that are not to be mentioned outside of cyberspace, just in case:
1. Get up earlier. Wake up at 9 and stay awake, even if I do just read in bed.
2. DO more. Get out. See stuff. Maybe take pictures of it or write about it to prove that I’ve gained new insight. ha.
3. Read more. This includes others’ blogs, the magazines I have piling up, and my ever-expanding book list. But mostly the books, I think.
4. Say “yes” more. It may be just because I just finished “Yes Man,” but I want to feel better about trying new things. I thought about shooting a bb gun today at nothing in particular at Caleb’s, but I’ve never held a gun and I’m not sure I want to. And… I suppose there’s nothing wrong with it if it’s just target practice, right?
5. Listen to more new music, and review it.
6. Pick one thing each day to love in my life.
7. Pick one thing each day to think about. (This sounds really dumb, but I like the idea. Some problem to solve, or something to pray about. It can’t hurt.)
8. Pick one thing each day to better something/someone other than myself.
9. Do one thing each day of which I’m proud. It has to be something that I didn’t accomplish on the computer (unless it’s a set of articles or something).
10. Blog about something that has potential to influence others or be meaningful to someone.
I think this is about the time of year where people really do start to slip on New Year’s Resolutions, so maybe it’s time to revamp. What are your resolutions? Are they ones you’ve tried before? Why are they important to you?
Ahh, Twitter. How can it be so consuming?
Belle and Sebastian now, with an ultimate feeling of… loss? hopelessness? gravity?
I am liking those stats over on the right, my 1290 visitors and the fact that “evergreen,” “music,” “writing,” and “peace” are all pretty big on that tag board. Unfortunately, it’s becoming more and more clear that those numbers are the only things that exist online, so I’m going to be working extra hard to make sure that’s not the case on this blog.
I’d like to talk about more things that matter… no one cares if I go tubing with my family or the fact that I’m listening to Belle and Sebastian, but I’d like to think people do care a little more about what all that means to me. Rather, I care about the people who care.
Anyway, from now on, I’m going to strive for article-quality posts that really hit on something. I think it will be more beneficial for everyone.
That doesn’t mean things will be long and boring–actually I want to bring in more multimedia (I might even buy the extra blog space so I can post music files) and shake up the styles a bit. Be patient.
And please, please leave comments and spread the word… Follow The_Inner_Piece and josahlin on Twitter, etc. Every little bit helps. And I know I said this isn’t about numbers, but I suppose if I’m completely honest, I’m definitely counting up to 1300 views!
Thanks, everyone <3
I was just talking with a friend I haven’t talked to in quite a while–months, probably. We were never extremely close (in fact I mostly felt like his acquaintance), but we talked every once in a while and he was always very upbeat, if a little cynical and more focused on getting laughter sometimes than any actual meaning in a conversation. But, that just tended to make him more fun, even if we didn’t have a friendship that was really rooted in something.
As I regained contact with him, I braced myself for his humor and the old nature I remembered. But instead of random, detached jokes, a real story greeted me: a sobering one. While he’s been staying in the east for a while, his recently divorced mother had decided to shut him out of her house upon his return, and made it impossible for my friend to see his father. My friend has no money and still has two years left of high school to manage–needless to say, he doesn’t have the resources to figure out how to negotiate his situation.
Through the conversation, the optimist inside of me tried desperately to cling to other options for my friend and possible things to distract him. Finally, I claimed that “if nothing else, there’s always the youth mission, or whatever it’s called.” Without having any idea of how he would react, I think I was kind of buffering the statement (or myself) with the “whatever it’s called” part. And sure enough, my friend would hear nothing of it.
“You know I don’t accept charity,” he said. I didn’t, in fact, know that about him, but I would soon enough. “I need to work for it somehow, and, more importantly, that people worse off than me should take that opportunity, not me.”
I guess I still don’t know what to make of that. Some of those places to make kids work for the privilege to stay there, and they’re run by volunteers who are happy to dedicate their time to the shelter or whatever place it is. I said, “it’s all relative,” but he disagreed.
You just can’t argue with some people. But that’s not the point.
The point is that sometimes, all you can do is pray. And what I’m slowly realizing is that as I and my friends grow up and start encountering things that we’ve never experienced before, we can’t always act according to “best interests” or “the right thing to do,” because we just plain don’t know what those things are. So I guess people pray that some other force can guide them. I don’t know why that’s better– either way, we feel like a situation is out of our control; sometimes we ask for help, and sometimes we don’t.
I’ve never really been very good at prayer or interested in it, but I’m starting to think that the most meaningful part is not necessarily the connection one makes with God through it, but the connection one makes with fellow humans through it. Whether we think anyone “up there” is listening, we feel good about it. If we pray for someone else, we are comforted by knowing we may be doing the only thing that’s in our power to do; if we pray for ourselves, we’re comforted knowing that even if nothing comes of it, we’ve asked for help.
Maybe that’s my gut feeling about what my friend said to me about charity. Personally, I like to be asked for help. It makes me feel capable, loving, and needed, as well as a mutual nurturer. And I know there are other people in the world like that–some of them work at youth hostels, I would bet. (As I side note, I just happened to wonder if God likes to be asked for help… interesting.) So besides the fact that hostels and other “charities” exist to be taken advantage of by anyone (just like how anyone can pray, not just those who “really need it”), the people involved might actually feel privileged to help.
I don’t want to see my friend suffer, but I also don’t want to undermine his beliefs–I have the utmost respect for his opinions about charity (and sympathize with them, to some extent). But we, his friends, would probably rather see him swallow his pride than pitch a tent on a street corner.
I rarely, if ever, pray. But whenever I do, the thought or wish that usually surfaces when I’m grappling for something to pray “about” is that most of all, I would like some guidance in prayer itself. This time is no different. Do I pray for my friend to find a roof over his head, no matter what the conditions are, as long as his beliefs are upheld? Do I pray for him to, just this once, abandon his rules and take advantage of the charities that are available to him? Do I pray for his mother, who can really be seen as the root of this problem?
As usual, I can’t decide… and luckily, I don’t think it’s for me to decide. The prayers I do come up with can usually be boiled down to one theme: peace. I know, hippieness blah blah blah. But really, is there anything more powerful that I can pray for than for my friend to be at peace? The actual events at stake here are out of my control; they’re out of my friend’s; and they’re out of the control of everyone else who is praying for him. So ultimately, I would like to pray for him to be at peace with whatever ends up happening, whether it’s his will or not. And for all of us to keep love in our hearts first and foremost. ((w&f))
Title courtesy of Jon Foreman’s, “Again”
… That was my latest update on Twitter. Sounds very strange, right? You know you want to follow me… and when you do click the link to my Twitter page, linger for a second on this one and leave me a comment or two! I’m actually thinking about making my blog have its own Twitter site, so that I can post when I have a new blog post and all that.
So, I woke up this morning and realized that in my dream, my grandpa had just died. It was kind of heavy to wake up on, and I still don’t really know what to do with it or anything. He is pretty old, and pretty frail, but it’s not like he’s imminent or anything. Still, it’s good to be prepared… and I also don’t feel like I have any unfinished business with him. Unless you count thanking him for all the money he’s ever given me, including my entire education– yeah, that would be good. It’s not like I’ve never thanked him before, and my family doesn’t really do outspoken verbal stuff anyway… but it might be nice at some point. I really value everything he’s given me and the rest of my family.
Good day. everywhere I turn, signs point to Haley, and I really miss her. She’s on the Grand Canyon right now on an epic rafting journey… she didn’t seem as excited as I thought someone who was on that kind of trip would be, but whatevs. I think she’ll have fun, but if she doesn’t, she gets to go straight to India afterwards! And then we send in our applications for an apartment, and that will be AMAZING… and then I move in!
I’m seriously considering going to Bumbershoot, the music festival in Seattle during the first weekend of September. Mainly it’s because Jason Mraz will be there… but also, tickets are extremely cheap. $80 for three days, and you can upgrade to about $200 (which is what most music festivals are) and get unlimited drinks in an air-conditioned lounge and stuff like that. I’m totally down. I don’t have anyone to go with or anything like that… but I’m fine going alone. I mean, I have mace.
So this next week I’m housesitting, and this place has a tv (we don’t get tv at my house; haven’t for most of my life) and I caught this special on Paul Simon on PBS tonight. It was so cool! They had Lyle Lovett, and James Taylor, and then at the end Paul Simon performed with Art Garfunkel (yay!) and then a song with Stevie Wonder. And when they got to Stevie Wonder’s verse, he faltered and they had to stop the song, and then Stevie Wonder said “I’m sorry–I don’t have my notes up here with me.” AHH, it was so funny. I so appreciate people who have a good sense of humor. My standards aren’t that high, but I am picky. In fact, my number one criteria for anyone I might date or hook up with is that I must find them funny. Take that.
I have a new writing job, which is great. Instead of getting $1 or $1.50 for a 500 word article that would take me and hour to write, I’m getting $3 for 300 word articles that generally take me a half hour to write. It’s so much more worth it, and the articles aren’t even that dull. My boss seems funny and easy to get along with, as well as pretty laid-back. The only downside is… it’s like, he’s too laid back. Let’s face it, I don’t have a life. So when I sign up for a writing job, I’m assuming that it’s going to take up most (or all) of my free time, so that I can really get the… buck for my bang. (…ok…) You know what I mean. If I’m going to do one of these jobs, I want to go all out.
Then again, this seems like the kind of job I could stick with for a long time (maybe even through school), so maybe it’s not so bad if it’s building up to a long term thing. And I told him I’m only in it for two weeks (while I’m housesitting, basically) so I’m thinking anytime after that I may get to make my own terms.
Anyway, I really must go to bed, before my chapped lips distract me too much and keep me from sleeping. I have to be up WAY early tomorrow (later today) to go kayaking with my mom. yay me.
OK, when I joined Twitter I didn’t get it. Why not just have a facebook and update your status all the time? That was almost two months ago… and now, finally, I’ve gotten myself a profile picture, I’ve customized my profile page, I’ve set up my phone so that I can update my status from it, I’ve searched for my favorite bands, news sites, and websites to follow, gained a few followers myself, and just generally have been enjoying myself.
So definitely check out my page if you want to keep posted on all the exciting things I’m up to: www.twitter.com/josahlin.
In other news, I had a most amazing weekend. My family visited from California, which consisted of my first-cousins-once-removed (my dad’s cousin and his wife) and my second cousin. We went to our cabin and my uncle took us out on the boat, and my cousin water skied and I went on the inner(inter?) tube, and now my arms are very sore and I’m happy about that. :)
My cousin and I had great bonding experience; we talked and talked and talked, which I’m ecstatic about. I finally feel like I have more family members, rather than feeling sort of marooned and cut off from them. She has great insight and she’s 27, so she’s good at giving advice without being too pushy or motherly. On Friday we went and got sushi and went to my aunt’s house to watch Harry Potter 5, and that was great because I could tell them what was beyond the movie (since they don’t do any justice to the books!). But, to my surprise I realized there were holes in my explanations, which clearly means that I have to reread the series… oh darn. :P So after I finish this post, I’m going to start the series over and be done with that by the time “Half-Blood Prince” comes out in theaters. Then after seeing that a few times, I’ll probably reread the Twilight series so that I can stay caught up with my friend who knows everything about that one.
I’m continually amazed by the integrity of the Harry Potter series. It’s just incredible that it is so popular and so influential, while being subtle. Granted, it took a while for the books to get to that point, but eventually they broadened so that they would still be universal, but also deeper. … I think I’ll write an actual article about it soon.
Oh, and on Friday when we went boating, my uncle’s “lady-friend” came with us. They had met maybe 2 or 3 weeks ago on Match.com, and here she was. She was… so… nice. Honestly, she was the nicest person. But… too nice? Something like that. We talked about it at length (that was kind of cool too, because we are NOT the kind of family that talks about each other when we’re not around, but now we had a topic to bond over with the Cali family) and my insight was that she didn’t have an “edge,” and my uncle needs someone who’s edgy, not just quietly quirky (ha, *you* try making alliteration with Qs!). Anyway, the bottom line was that we couldn’t imagine it going anywhere.
We didn’t tell my uncle this, of course, but as my aunt said, “he’s no fool,” and he either got the message or didn’t need it in the first place. None of us were worried about him making the “right” judgement call, so what may or may not have been gossip didn’t amount to any drama whatsoever. And that’s a very, very good thing.
So then Saturday we went to my uncle’s house for our 4th of July dinner, which was amazing because there were TEN people at the table! My aunt made amazing food and my grandma looked SO cute–white pants, white sandals, and a sea blue tunic top that she had made, beaded, and embroidered herself(!)–she’s absolutely amazing–and the family gathered and talked about the weird things we talk about. Grammar, Michael Jackson (for, like, the fifth time that weekend, gah), writing, Jewish things (my dad’s cousin’s wife is Jewish and my dad’s cousin converted to marry her), the great food, our heritage and other family members, grammar (trust me, it’s a big issue; everyone in our family is meticulous about grammar, spelling, writing, and anything of the sort and has some related pet peeve), the food (also a recurring topic since it’s always so good), pets, some current events…
Actually, it sounds blissfully normal… I think? What do other people’s families talk about?
I just got caught up in a great money-making opportunity, posting advertisements through Google or something like that… and now I’m pretty sure it was a scam. I realize this AFTER I’ve given my credit card number and email address AND home address–I suck SO MUCH right now. I can’t believe I actually bought into all that. I thought it was pretty legit because I read a newspaper article about it online, which interviewed a guy who was using the system. And I thought that if it was good enough to make it into a paper around some guy’s success story, then it’s worth a try. But now, I’m terrified that I’m going to have a monthly fee for using it (even though the website said nothing about a monthly fee or anything like that, but I’ve heard complaints about the program since I downloaded it and realized it’s harder to use than it sounds). Argh!
So now I have to worry about that, as well as trying to find tons of other jobs. Supposedly, I’m going to housesit again this summer, though I only have one job lined up and it’s for mid-July. I’ also freelance writing again, which is great. I don’t get paid fairly at all, which is a problem (about $15 a week for 10 articles) but I like it and it’s good practice. I applied to some “real” jobs around town, but none of them have taken. Anyway, it boils down to being completely SOL money-wise.
And if that weren’t bad enough, the weather is awful. The rain seemed to follow be back here from Olympia, and it’s windy and VERY inconvenient. My town hosts the Ironman triathlon every year, and this year it was yesterday. The swim portion was blustery (I was volunteering in a kayak along the swim course from 6 to 10 am), the bike was cold, and towards the end it started raining. So then, the poor people had to run in the rain as well, and it was just terrible. But I had tons of fun in the kayak, and then I went to a Father’s Day celebration with my family, and I ate wheat! :P I mean, I had to–my aunt made an absolutely incredible chocolate cake. The only thing that made it taste bad was her asking every 10 minutes whether we liked it… but that’s sort of a thing in my family. Everyone gets uncomfortable about the food they made, and we have to reassure each other that it’s the best we ever tasted. And usually, it is just perfect. Anyway, I broke my no-wheat regimen for hamburger buns and chocolate cake, and I didn’t give a whit. (Ha, ha.)
But then I got an awful headache. I’d had one all day, which was expected because I always get one when I cry, and I always cry at the Ironman. The last qualifying swimmer out of the water had to literally be carried up the path to the changing area, and it was heartbreaking to watch. Anyway, I was fine with the light headache I’d been dealing with, especially because I was more concerned with being sore from kayaking and exhausted from getting up at 4 am. Until we got in the car to go home after dinner, and my headache intensified. I’m pretty sure that eating wheat really contributed to it.
By the time we got home and we were watching a movie, it had migrated to the right side of my head and it felt like my right eye was going to pop out of its socket. Naturally, I asked my dad for his migraine medicine, but he recalled that it hadn’t really worked last time I tried it. So I went with hydrocodone, of course. If you’ve ever had hydro (I’d only used it once before, when I had my whole wisdom teeth fiasco), you know that it will completely knock you out. And it did. It was amazing– I usually have a horrible time trying to get to sleep, because I can never get comfortable and relaxed enough, and I can never shut my brain up. But with the hydro, I was plastered to my mattress. And I barely had time to enjoy that feeling before I was falling asleep. I had my sleep playlist going at the time, and the last thing I remember was hearing my favorite song (“In My Life”) before drifting off.
Then I slept for 13 hours, woke up, and got involved with that stupid internet scam. What a terrible thing to do today.
Procrastination, take 2.
Today my class program put on Oedipus Rex, and I played Creon in the first third. It was a success, and we just got done with our cast party. We broke off early because we all had to write a 20 page paper by tomorrow. YIKES.
Luckily, mine is on music (specifically, singing), and I’m very excited about it… however, I just cannot get started with a good lead to get me really into it. I’m toying with the idea of taking adderall, but my parents said that would kind of be a cop-out, so I’m attempting to do what I can without it. Which, so far, isn’t much.
It honestly isn’t for lack of trying this time– I must have fifty beginnings in the works, but alas, all have come to naught.
Anyway, I will post it when I’m done, and probably keep you updated.
Does anyone have their own tactics on how to get started on essays, or articles, or any creative endeavor?
Title courtesy of Gilbert & Sullivan.
The whole mothering thing is SO not instant-gratification oriented. It’s absolutely more “you’ll thank me later,” which is why I could never be satisfied by it. Yet another reason that being a mother would just not happen very well for me. Besides the preliminary pregnancy part, which I would be loathe to go through because of morning sickness, swollen ankles, crabbiness, and stretch marks, there’s the actual entire rest-of-your-life commitment. And since I could never think of myself as going through that with a man, I couldn’t ever go through it with child.
Having to see time pass is bad enough when I’m witnessing it in myself, my friends, and (worst–or most painful–of all) my parents, and I can’t imagine going through the hell of watching a child grow up. I told my parents that once and they replied, with tears in their eyes, that that very thing can be the most rewarding part of all. I was incredulously silent. I’m glad they were happy to watch me grow up… but meanwhile, for my entire life I’ve been plagued with fear and worry about the moments when I have to see them go. I don’t really mind death (after all, it’s rather to be expected), and I’ve been able to accept its inevitability with all of my family members except my parents. It always seems that ANY time would be too soon. Plus, I feel like I’ve had to think about it more because my parents have always been older than most of my friends’ parents. As one friend pointed out today, she said, “I would have kids early, because if you wait too late… that’s so much less time that you get to spend together.” And I realized that could be true with my parents. They’re very healthy, but what mine are “first”?
I know that’s morbid; I’m leaving it there. Anyway, just more reasons for me not to have kids. All of my friends have these desires to be motherly, or to be pregnant, or something. I don’t really get it. One of my friends said it was weird that I didn’t want kids because I seemed so maternal. I can have a “motherly” role to my friends, or whoever needs me, but I don’t think I can have my own. And I can worship my friends’ from afar…
Which leads to my ultimate goal: to be the BEST godmother EVER. Well, second to mine. I think that’s because some of the most meaningful relationships in my life have been with aunt-like women or godmothers. I want to be that secondary figure in someone’s life, because everyone knows you don’t tell your parents everything anyway (well, I do… but most don’t). I want to be someone who can keep those secrets, instead of being the person the secrets are kept from. That’s such a lamentable role.
That’s my drone for the day.
Oh, and here’s to my 100th post! my goodness. I feel like I should have something a little more uplifting for number 100… but, I’m not feeling very imaginative, so this is what you’re getting. Since… I don’t have (m)any readers anyway. :P
Title courtesy of Paul Simon, from his album Surprise. Listen to this song; it’s amazing, and something I hope my dad would say/sing to me, because it’s just like our relationship. mmm, I love my daddy!
Ok, I love BOTH my parents (because there’s always the chance they might read this…haha). Actually, that’s another reason I don’t want a kid: because I don’t think he/she would be as honest as I am, or communicative, or whatever, and (the worst part) that would fall on me, and it would be my fault somehow, because I don’t know anything about parenting, and I could never do as good a job as my parents did. (Insert “aww” :)
Thanks, M&D. I love you MORE!
I had this moment of epiphany (among many, the other day) where I realized that this picture I had was of something very different than what I thought it was.
It’s the picture I uploaded for the pic of this site– the peace sign one. That was painted on the side of a building in Laurel Canyon in Hollywood, where many many stars have lived and live now.
It has been my desktop picture for some time now, so I’ve been looking at it for quite a while. And I always saw the white form on top of the peace sign as a white dove, which made sense since they’re the symbol of peace.
But the other day, while I was staring at my computer and shedding more tears over the dumb situation with my parents, I realized it was a hand holding the peace sign… and of course, in my weakened state my whole world came together at an apex at the moment I realized that and what it meant– we all hold peace in our hands, and when we don’t realize that, we keep “waiting for the world to change,” and nothing happens.
I have fewer doubts now that peace WILL spread, as long as individuals take advantage of the power of peace that each holds in his hands.
It’s not a joke that I believe in music so fully. It’s not just because I’m so at a loss for something else to believe in, it’s not just because I’m so lazy that all I do is listen to music anyway, so that might as well be what I have faith in. It’s not just because that’s what I grew up with instead of a religious background, so that’s all I know. All of those things may be true, but in my defense I will say that it’s not for lack of thought that I’ve come to the conclusion that music is the most real and most powerful thing we can believe in.
If I really wanted to go out on a limb, I would proclaim my belief that furthermore, the Beatles have everything one needs to live. Again, my ignorance is “at fault,” because I’m sure many people would say, “well, that’s because you haven’t heard ________.” I realize that the Beatles themselves aren’t the epitome of perfection (though they’re pretty damn close). I realize that they aren’t even very good musicians or musical geniuses, in comparison with people like Hendrix or Santana, or the classical greats like Bach or Tchaikovski. But personally, their music speaks to me more than anyone else I’ve ever heard.
Anyway, can I hear an Amen?! I’m sure there are others out there that have felt music resonate with them more than any sermon or revelation. Maybe not. Can I hear a Nay from the others?
I’m Lucky I’m in love with [the Beatles]. Ironically, I haven’t listened to the Beatles at all today… Jason Mraz (who is also a musical god) has been my soundtrack so far. And yes, I do go some days without listening to the Beatles at all. Just like many people go many days without going to church. It doesn’t mean we’re without worship or recognition of the Greatness.
Today was ironic because it was the date of the publication of the first-ever “Counter Point Journal,” which was created in obvious rebuttal to our formal school newspaper, and this week I designed almost three pages in our Cooper Point Journal.
Today was ironic because I’m writing this paper on faith, and I’m way behind. I figured out that I wanted to work in the idea of music, and that people can ultimately have faith in music. Then, I accidentally uncovered an email that my mom sent me months back that I’d never read, because it was a forward. But it was called “A Contemplation on Music,” and it was a welcome address given to freshmen at the Boston Conservatory by Karl Paulnack, who teaches there. It’s perfect–it has every tidbit I want and need for my paper. But it contains all the sentences I wish I could say. He recommends many classical pieces, one of which I’m listening to right now. It’s called “Quartet For The End Of Time,” by Olivier Messiaen. He was French and lived in the 1940s, when he was captured and sent to a German concentration camp. There, he wrote this piece, that was composed for four musicians– the four he found in the camp, including himself. It’s dark.
Today is ironic because, to couple with finding that paper in my email, I had one of the best classes ever. Our teachers brought in a panel of three other faculty members who could talk to us about faith. They spoke of their experiences and bared some parts of their pasts, which made them very vulnerable. Andrew, one of my seminar leaders, even said that he felt so uncomfortable with it that he wouldn’t have been able to talk like that at the beginning of the year. But now, he said, he trusts us more. I took that very personally, and was thrilled to hear that we were deserving of his stories.
That’s ironic, because I was very excited about my fantastic class time and all I wanted to do was tell my parents. And all I asked was that they be together so they could put me on speakerphone and we could all talk at the same time. But, my mother went to the lake AGAIN (which I don’t fault her for, really) which meant I couldn’t talk to them simultaneously. And I refuse to say everything twice! That always happens, and I hate it. It always sucks the second time and I leave things out and I’m not enthusiastic and it feels like a chore. If I was going to pick one to tell about my class, it would be my dad because he loves hearing that stuff, and he’s intellectual. Mom’s more “spiritual,” I guess (that’s a word that was discussed around faith in our class). But she would absolutely flip out if I only told dad or if I told dad first. And I don’t feel like rewarding their strange behavior that I don’t like with saying things twice or catering to them.
It’s not like they’re “separating,” and they’re certainly not getting a divorce. They’re not like that. And, ha, since my dad’s a divorce attorney, it’s pretty much out of the question. Anyway, nothing like that. But it bothers me that they spend so much time apart. I mean at times, it feels like they might as well be divorced for all the time they see each other. I always talk to each separately, and I always have to text the same things to both. And I KNOW that if I were to talk to someone about this, it would be that stupid talk all children get: “It’s not your fault in any way! Mommy and daddy love you very much, and you’re what holds them together!”
Because that’s exactly what I’m afraid of! I’m not there anymore! It’s like there’s nothing holding them together! And it’s not all about me, but come on… I am the only only only only only child, in a family of seven including me, and everyone else lives an hour away from my parents. I can’t imagine what they DO when I’m gone. All my parents have is work, and the dogs. Maybe the dogs are what is holding them together.
OH MY GAH I wish I could call Shadow up right now and talk to him about this! Then life would be perfect. Actually, if I had a sibling right about now it would make me SUPER happy. Mom always said that the most solid thing that helped her get through her parents’ divorce was her brother. I don’t have one. What now?
After my class on faith, I just keep thinking there’s something I need to turn to, if only I knew what it was. It’s an awful feeling. I racked my brain trying to think of who to call, and all my options were excellent (Rita, Erin, and Caleb), but all I wanted to do was call my daddy. I talk to my parents about EVERYTHING. Usually, even though I hate it, I make the sacrifice to say everything twice because I just always talk to them. When there’s conflict or stress in my life, I almost always call my parents to unload. So it gets horrendous when I have conflict about them, because I’m not ready to speak directly to them yet (and, well, I CAN’T, because I most certainly don’t want to do THAT twice, so I have to wait for them to be in the same room anyway) and I don’t know what else to do but sit and cry. Which I’ve tried.
I feel like I need to wean myself from them, but why? I mean, if (other than this hiccup) we have such a great relationship, why let that drop? I know people who go weeks without talking to their parents, and I don’t think I could do that. I think the longest I’ve gone is a week and a half. I feel so immature. And yet, I feel like there’s something else that I could reach out to to help balance things a bit, but I have no idea what it is. I’ll probably have some revelation where I realize it was God I was searching for all along, but I’m not ready for that yet.
Right now I just want to listen to Beatles and find the comfort I know.
It is now.
The time.
It is AFTER an absolutely amazing weekend that I spent at home with Erin and Caleb listening to barbershop despite a horrendous ear infection, going to Waiting for Godot, showing my parents my new tattoo, and seeing my dog.
It is AFTER a crazy week of falling behind with class and countless newspaper obligations.
It is AFTER my class went to see Jesus Christ Superstar. yikes.
It is AFTER a so-so weekend of sneaking into 2 movies so that we saw 3 for $7 in all, mediocre Vietnamese food, yet another newspaper meeting, a fun photoshoot with Haley, watching Dustin Hoffman movies (ahhh dreamy), and laundry.
It is AFTER the first night I put in my retainers for about a week (oops).
It is AFTER my class this morning where we studied Kant and Aristotle. Again. Instead of Othello.
It is AS my virgin hears are hearing Yo La Tengo. mmm.
It is AS I am procrastinating on reading Othello and doing research for the newspaper’s calendar.
It is AS I try to decide what to eat for lunch.
It is BEFORE I change into a skirt since it’s such a nice day out.
It is BEFORE my afternoon seminar, and BEFORE I check my mail.
It is BEFORE my next rehearsal with the Oly Chorus tonight.
It is BEFORE I mail my parking violation ticket that I got in Spokane and which was such a superb greeting as I got back to my car after having cried about leaving Erin and KIX. not.
It is BEFORE I read or hear Waiting for Godot again, because I’m getting as obsessed as my parents, who say the play 3 times in two weeks. Oh, and Happy Birthday, Samuel Beckett (yesterday).
It is BEFORE the next issue of the CPJ.
It is BEFORE I fill out an application for Petco, because that’s where I want to work this summer while at home.
It is BEFORE more and more decisions, and it is BEFORE I end up regretting them… or not.
Title courtesy of Yo La Tengo.
As I’d anticipated, my class IS killing me this quarter. Luckily, that project we have to do is a little more enjoyable since my subject is my Godmother, Rita Wilde. I have to write a 10 to 20 page paper and do the project part. So I’m putting together a magazine-ish newsletter-ish thing, with a clip of one of her shows for the audio part, if I can. I’m really stoked about it, and I found Adobe Creative Suite 4 Design Premium at our campus bookstore for INSANELY cheap, so now I have Photoshop and InDesign and everything I need!
Other than that… my class is running my life. Oh, except for the school paper, which is also running my life. We have meetings 3 days a week, not to mention production night. I spend at least as much time there as I do at class each week. And I get paid $14 a week. And for all my complaining, I’m looking at taking on another position! All my friends tell me to quit. But it’s what I want to do, and it’s good experience, and whether they like it or not I AM making more money than they are :P So maybe they’re just jealous… doubtful.
I might get a tattoo next weekend. I know what design I want and my heart is set on that. I also know where I want it. And I don’t think I’d ever regret it, because it would be hidden most of the time (it would be just below my collarbone, and be about 3 inches tall; it’s a treble clef with a peace sign inside it) and it means a lot to me. I love music and I love peace, so I don’t think I could go wrong with that. But that doesn’t stop my brain from thinking “is it right?” Like, I’m waiting for the right moment or the right circumstance to get it (maybe when I’m in LA with my godmother), and that may never come. Or if it does, I could always just get another one. I like tattoos; if they’re tasteful and not too obvious, I think they can be gorgeous, and an awesome form of art. So I have nothing against it. And it’s not like anyone I know or anyone in my family would look at me with disgust or something. And I’d still be able to get a job, for heaven’s sake.
I want it, hands down. But then there’s the pain. Which I hear actually is not too bad. So that would be ok… I think. Blah, I just don’t know.
The latest thing is that this girl I knew through Jazz Ensemble in high school recently texted me and asked if it was ok if she took one of my best friends to prom. I don’t want her to… but of course I can’t actually tell her that. And she said it came up because my friend told her I might get mad if she took him. I’m sure he was kidding… but one of my friends here thinks that he was using me as an excuse to get out of going with her. I’m totally fine with that. But… ok, here’s what I want:
1. To tell him that I’m fine with him going with her… but have it be pretty obvious to him that I would not be totally ok with it and that he shouldn’t go with her.
2. For him to be ok with using me as an excuse all he wants.
3. For her to think that I’m actually totally fine with him going with her.
4. For him to NOT go with her.
I feel so selfish. And obviously, 2 and 3 contradict each other, and I have absolutely no control over #4. So, the best I can do is go with #1… screw it if that makes me seem like a bitch to her. After all, by Idaho standards I AM a bitch. ha.
Anyway, I’m going to talk to him first, I think. That makes sense because he’s my first priority. :P We shall see.
In other areas of my life, hmmm…
I am having tons of fun making random playlists in iTunes. I use the weird categories to make cool mix CDs for my mom. She eats that stuff up, because she’ll go on road trips and then she has tons of music to listen to. I wish I could put the playlists on here… but I put so much hard work into them and don’t want them to get stolen! Haha, just kidding. I will put them up at some point. Some of them are genius, if I do say so myself. Especially if you knew my mom’s taste.
By the way, I just want to say… ALMOST 1000 HITS! That is fantastic, thanks everyone who looks at my page. I’m still working on getting an actual writing job so that I can put some interesting content on here (and make some money!). :P
(Title courtesy of Donovan. On an unrelated note, my car is named Donovan. And I’m getting my car after spring break!)
This year (or, I should say, last year) I created my wish list right after the holiday my family celebrates known as Christmas to most other people. It didn’t make any sense, but i let myself go wild. The sky was the limit, and it was very liberating. I think I was only able to do it because of the money I got as gifts, which gave me a few new possibilities.
I guess I got so into that idea that I forgot to make a New Year’s resolution. I hate those anyway, but they’re just kind of obligatory. So I decided that I need to become more assertive and notice when I really feel a certain way about something. I’ve been trying it and for the most part I don’t feel any different, so I’m a little concerned that I’m not “doing it right.” But even just keeping it in mind makes me feel a little more in control of myself, which I do really like.
It feels nice to be liked by other people, but mostly I like to love myself. Which happens rarely… hence my resolution. Anyway, lately I’ve felt really liked, and luckily I’m able to say that I like all the people who like me! That can be rare, I hear. I was recently approached by a couple friends who want me to live with them this summer and next year, and the arrangement sounds fantastic. But I’ve also talked a ton with one of my friends about living with her next year. And I have another friend I want to live with as well. Those two friends don’t get along very well, or at least they wouldn’t if they were living together, and I can’t make a decision between the three. Plus, my parents have expressed their desire for me to live on campus next year, which is the last thing I want to do. I realize it’s an experience everyone has to have, but I am sooo over it. So it’s a hard decision.
Things that have been on my mind…
I would kill to go to the inauguration. oh my gawd. I was looking up ticket prices and they’re outrageous, but I would do anything to be able to go. The musician lineup is incredible too. And then there’s Barack…
My class is going to kill me this quarter. We have a huge quarter long project where we study a character, and I want to do mine on my godmother, but I don’t know if she’s be down for it, and I haven’t talked to her about it. And she’s the only person I’ve really been excited about interviewing and stuff.
What else…
Aristotle simply can suck it. argh.
But on a better note… tomorrow is Tuesday, and I sing then : )
