"An intellectual is a man who says a simple thing in a difficult way; an artist is a man who says a difficult thing in a simple way."
- Charles Bukowski
Okay, so I fibbed a little. I'm only getting back to one part of this. But it's a good part, I swear.
I love that statement, that distinction, between the intellectual and the artist. Lately I've been thoroughly overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of a number of different works, and it's made me think about the mediums of art.
I saw Edward Albee's Peter and Jerry the other day. I had read the second act, The Zoo Story, before, and seeing it played out on a stage by two astounding actors was amazing, especially with front row, center seats. But I was even more floored by the first act. The Zoo Story was written in 1958 - it was Albee's first play - and I love it for its timelessness and for its daring, for the way it calls society out on the way they reject eccentricity and those who don't fit into their neat, structured world. Homelife, the first act that Albee wrote in 2001, was quite possibly even better.
In it, Albee looks at one of these picture-perfect people - Peter, who represents The American Dream in The Zoo Story - and looks at the flaws of his relationship with his wife Ann, at the cracks in the egg. Peter has an executive position at a publishing house, two daughters, two cats, two parakeets, and a brownstone on East 74th Street or so. He and his wife live comfortably. Yet, in Homelife, he discovers that though she appreciates the secure, smooth, orderly little world he has built, sometimes it's not what she wants. Ann reveals insecurities, fears, loneliness, and desire that she has been hiding for years as she explains that it's not that she's unhappy, not that she doesn't love him - she just wants more. She wants a little chaos, a little something different. She wants to shake him from his placid perch and rile him up a little - she wants him to act more like the animal he is.
You can see Peter struggle to comprehend this and accept it, and when the second act begins and Jerry presents another threat to his perfect little world, the meaning of it is a thousand times stronger. As is Jerry's final declaration to Peter: "You are an animal - not a vegetable." The depth, the focus, the layers, the intensity of the meaning and the incredible statement about life that these two acts make together - it's amazing to me, not only that Edward Albee wrote it, but that forty years passed between when he wrote the second and when he wrote the first, and that the more recent one is possibly even sharper and more astute than the first. The critic who reviewed it for the New York Times called Homelife a slap in the face and The Zoo Story a punch in the gut. He nailed it. But truly, the playwright is an artist - one with incredible skill and talent.
The other night, then, I watched an old movie called Holiday for the first time. The screenplay, which was by Donald Ogden Stewart, had been adapted from a play by Phillip Barry, who also wrote the play upon which the film The Philadelphia Story was based. Though The Philadelphia Story was better than Holiday, I still enjoyed the latter immensely. It was fun. Playful. Delightful and charming.
Yet, at the same time, it had a lot to say. The main character, Johnny Case, is in finance, and comes of no background worth mentioning. His plan is to make enough money to take a holiday, and then quit his job, and take time to discover himself, and to discover what it is he's working for - he wants what he does to mean something - he wants to find meaning in general. His fiancee Julia Seton is a rich heiress, spoiled and coddled, and she doesn't agree with him at all. Her sister Linda, though, is frustrated with wealth, society, and her life in general, and she rebels and does whatever she can to escape, including spending most of her time in the old "play room." Their brother Ned shares Linda's views, only chooses to avoid his life by seeking solace in alcohol instead of dealing with things or trying to change theme - he lives with a resigned, sluggish attitude.
Aside from making a statement about how people view life and choose to make it worthy, it cleverly shows how people can be blinded by "love" and see a person as they want to see him, not for whom he truly is. Yet, the whole thing is humorous and overall, very amusing. It's marvelous.
In both of these cases, the writing is superb. But what makes them a thousand times stronger to me is the fact they are both also performances. Theater and film are both aural and visual, combining sound and speech and music with setting and physical expression. In Peter and Jerry, you can see what Albee is getting at in his writing. You can understand the words and know what is meant by them. But to see those feelings written on the faces of the characters, in their body language, to hear them in the tone and inflection of their voices - it's so powerful. And in Holiday, Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn and the rest of the cast fall into rhythm perfectly. Their timing as they sail through their repartee over and over is great not only in terms of how they relate to each other, but for capitalizing on every comedic possibility. Their reactions, their smiles, their pauses, are all perfectly synchronized.
Seeing that, as well as a few interviews with actors on working with another director, Nancy Meyer, reminded me how much a film or play relies on the pacing and the rhythm. Movies and plays are really just intricate dances, like a full company number in a musical. Timing does so much - it not only sets the pace, but thereby also sets the mood, the feeling, the undertone. It just really made me appreciate so much more everything that goes into a truly great play or movie. There are so many individual threads that need to be good in order for the whole thing to be great. When you really think about it, it's a wonder that there are as many great films and plays as there are. But I guess you can appreciate them that much more.
P.S. Sorry this is wicked long.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
You know what amuses me greatly?
Think of everyone you know.
Now mentally remove alcohol.
Mentally remove all alcohol-related stories, jokes, conversations, etc.
The number of truly interesting people you know has greatly diminished now, hasn't it?
And if not, then their degree of interesting-ness, at least, has decreased significantly.
God, what would people do without alcohol? What would they talk about?
Like with Tootsie Roll pops, "the world may never know."
Think of everyone you know.
Now mentally remove alcohol.
Mentally remove all alcohol-related stories, jokes, conversations, etc.
The number of truly interesting people you know has greatly diminished now, hasn't it?
And if not, then their degree of interesting-ness, at least, has decreased significantly.
God, what would people do without alcohol? What would they talk about?
Like with Tootsie Roll pops, "the world may never know."
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
"Though justice be thy plea, consider this:
...That in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy..."
- William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
Being raised Christian in America is an interesting paradox.
Aside from being taught that God is just, Christians are taught that He is merciful, and they should be merciful as well.
Americans live under a government with a powerful justice system. Wrong-doers are punished, as they should be - as is fair.
Mercy, though - mercy isn't fair. Mercy is absolving wrong-doing wholly, even when it isn't deserved. There is no punishment. No retribution. Just forgiveness, freely given. There is no justice in mercy.
And I don't mean to say that the teaching of mercy is limited only to Christians. Anyone with a strong moral compass may believe in being merciful. Yet even these people, I'm sure, at some time or another desire justice. Not revenge, not pay-back - only justice, fair and simple. Yet how can they desire justice and mercy at the same time? And which road should they take?
Because then, isn't justice sometimes necessary to acceptance, and consequently to receiving closure? Aren't there times when mercy and forgiveness don't result in closure? How do you get it then?
Furthermore, where is the line between forgiving mercifully and forgiving out of, indirectly, fear? Avoidance is a form of fear, and avoiding confrontation thereby a motivation born of fear. True, forgiving someone just to avoid having to confront them isn't true forgiveness and therefore, not true mercy, but for the sake of this thought, how do you determine whether or not you are forgiving someone to be merciful and truly forgive them, or if you're forgiving them merely to end or avoid a conflict?
And after all that...why does it matter?
Yes, this is seriously the kind of stuff I think about when I'm bored or alone. Or sometimes even when I'm not alone. Haha.
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy..."
- William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
Being raised Christian in America is an interesting paradox.
Aside from being taught that God is just, Christians are taught that He is merciful, and they should be merciful as well.
Americans live under a government with a powerful justice system. Wrong-doers are punished, as they should be - as is fair.
Mercy, though - mercy isn't fair. Mercy is absolving wrong-doing wholly, even when it isn't deserved. There is no punishment. No retribution. Just forgiveness, freely given. There is no justice in mercy.
And I don't mean to say that the teaching of mercy is limited only to Christians. Anyone with a strong moral compass may believe in being merciful. Yet even these people, I'm sure, at some time or another desire justice. Not revenge, not pay-back - only justice, fair and simple. Yet how can they desire justice and mercy at the same time? And which road should they take?
Because then, isn't justice sometimes necessary to acceptance, and consequently to receiving closure? Aren't there times when mercy and forgiveness don't result in closure? How do you get it then?
Furthermore, where is the line between forgiving mercifully and forgiving out of, indirectly, fear? Avoidance is a form of fear, and avoiding confrontation thereby a motivation born of fear. True, forgiving someone just to avoid having to confront them isn't true forgiveness and therefore, not true mercy, but for the sake of this thought, how do you determine whether or not you are forgiving someone to be merciful and truly forgive them, or if you're forgiving them merely to end or avoid a conflict?
And after all that...why does it matter?
Yes, this is seriously the kind of stuff I think about when I'm bored or alone. Or sometimes even when I'm not alone. Haha.
Monday, December 24, 2007
This is super random, but so I don't forget:
In all seriousness, I really do get that men and women are different, and I'll admit that in some ways, men are generally superior. Physically, they're mostly taller, stronger. Statistics show they score higher on standardized tests and get in fewer car accidents and all that blah blah blah. But I also have to point out that in other ways, women are generally superior. And that just because they're different, that in no way indicates that they aren't equal. And if a given man and given woman aren't equal, it's probably in terms of humanity and completely regardless of their gender/sex.
And even though I say that, I still maintain it's not a matter of which sex is superior and which is inferior. One isn't better than the other or worse than the other at all. It's all subjective, and there's no judgment - just distinct differences.
That's all.
In all seriousness, I really do get that men and women are different, and I'll admit that in some ways, men are generally superior. Physically, they're mostly taller, stronger. Statistics show they score higher on standardized tests and get in fewer car accidents and all that blah blah blah. But I also have to point out that in other ways, women are generally superior. And that just because they're different, that in no way indicates that they aren't equal. And if a given man and given woman aren't equal, it's probably in terms of humanity and completely regardless of their gender/sex.
And even though I say that, I still maintain it's not a matter of which sex is superior and which is inferior. One isn't better than the other or worse than the other at all. It's all subjective, and there's no judgment - just distinct differences.
That's all.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Well people come and go in our lives and no one stays forever...
...New loves come and new priorities and new responsibilities and new lives and death. We do what we can with people with the time we have with them. You come and go in and out of others’ lives, and if you’re lucky, you will change them before they are gone. For, they will be gone, sooner or later, whether you’re ready to move on without them or not. If you’re lucky, you’ll move on knowing that you have left your mark on their lives, that they carry a bit of you with them – knowing that you have not forgotten, and they haven’t either.
So I wrote that back in February. Except it's not completely right. Yes, you're lucky if you change someone before you leave their life (or they leave yours). But I should have placed more emphasis on, "If you're lucky, you'll move on knowing that you have left your mark..." Knowing. It's so hard to know that you've changed someone's life, yet most of us need that knowledge - that reassurance that our time was not wasted.
"We do what we can with people with the time we have with them." I sort of found out this year that often, that time is a lot shorter than you'd think, and when its over, all you have is your memories of it. And it's hard to hold on to those. You want to let them go, and in some ways, you need to. Memories are things of the past and you can't hold on to them like they're the present. But you can't forget them, even if all evidence of their occurrence has dissipated. Even if you can't recognize the changes you inflicted, you have to remember that at one time, they were there, and even if you can't see them any more, they could still be there. You can't let yourself feel like you wasted your time with anyone, and if you do, you have to ride it out and get past it.
"Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods."
- C. S. Lewis
"Without doubt there's no free will, without free will there's no humanity, without humanity there's no divinity."
- God, 'Joan of Arcadia'
Faith is like a shape-shifting factotum. It looks different all the time, and it does so many different things. It pops up everywhere. There are so many different kinds of faith, and when you get down to it, I guess you could say that everything is faith. Well, memories are faith too. Holding onto memories is trusting that the past did happen; in this case, it's trusting that you did really do something worthwhile. It's easy to say that you want to do something to "change the hearts of men," even if it's only fleeting, but it's harder to hold onto that memory of what you did and continually gain strength from it after it's gone. Often, it seems, the effects of what you do really are short-lived, even if we'd like to think that everything we do is going to change people's lives forever, including our own. Perhaps it does change people lives forever, but if it does, it's often subtle, like a scar or blemish covered over with make-up: invisible and unknown to everyone but the person who inflicted it and the afflicted. After a while, it fades and the person seems to forget it was ever there, but he can't ever truly forget - the mark has been made. Forgetting the marks you've made on others is a crisis of faith.
"Life is doubt, and faith without doubt is nothing but death."
- Miguel de Unamuno
"Skepticism is the beginning of faith."
- Oscar Wilde
We make marks in all sorts of ways, on our friends more than anyone else. On the most basic level, our best friends bear our marks more than anyone else - those friends that we can trust with everything, who are always there for us, to listen, comfort, help, cheer up, or just be around. You don't have to be a person's best friend, though, to be a good friend. Sometimes you don't need someone who's going to listen to your problems and talk you through them and help you out - sometimes you need someone who's not going to ask you any questions and will just take your mind off things. Sometimes you don't need someone who's going to be particularly kind and sensitive and thoughtful - you need someone who's not going to treat you any differently than normal. Sometimes, a good friend is simply one who will give you what you need - or, rather, what you think you need - what you want.
Elliot's thoughts: Listening to Molly made me realize a person doesn't have to be perfect to be exactly what you need.
- Scrubs
I guess it comes down to what kind of friend you want to be. Do you want to give friends what they want, what sometimes they only think they need, or do you want to give them what they really need? The problem is, people are more apt to like you if you simply give them what they want all the time. Giving people what they need, what is best for them in the long run, isn't always the most popular route, and it's usually not the easiest. If you want to give them what they really need, you have to be sharp. You have to be able to tell when they really need to be distracted from when they're just running away from something. You have to be able to tell when intervening is going to help and when it's going to push them to the edge. You won't get it right every time, but hey, you've got to try. Right?
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same...
The Fray
----------------
Now playing: Matchbox Twenty - Bent
So I wrote that back in February. Except it's not completely right. Yes, you're lucky if you change someone before you leave their life (or they leave yours). But I should have placed more emphasis on, "If you're lucky, you'll move on knowing that you have left your mark..." Knowing. It's so hard to know that you've changed someone's life, yet most of us need that knowledge - that reassurance that our time was not wasted.
"We do what we can with people with the time we have with them." I sort of found out this year that often, that time is a lot shorter than you'd think, and when its over, all you have is your memories of it. And it's hard to hold on to those. You want to let them go, and in some ways, you need to. Memories are things of the past and you can't hold on to them like they're the present. But you can't forget them, even if all evidence of their occurrence has dissipated. Even if you can't recognize the changes you inflicted, you have to remember that at one time, they were there, and even if you can't see them any more, they could still be there. You can't let yourself feel like you wasted your time with anyone, and if you do, you have to ride it out and get past it.
"Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted in spite of your changing moods."
- C. S. Lewis
"Without doubt there's no free will, without free will there's no humanity, without humanity there's no divinity."
- God, 'Joan of Arcadia'
Faith is like a shape-shifting factotum. It looks different all the time, and it does so many different things. It pops up everywhere. There are so many different kinds of faith, and when you get down to it, I guess you could say that everything is faith. Well, memories are faith too. Holding onto memories is trusting that the past did happen; in this case, it's trusting that you did really do something worthwhile. It's easy to say that you want to do something to "change the hearts of men," even if it's only fleeting, but it's harder to hold onto that memory of what you did and continually gain strength from it after it's gone. Often, it seems, the effects of what you do really are short-lived, even if we'd like to think that everything we do is going to change people's lives forever, including our own. Perhaps it does change people lives forever, but if it does, it's often subtle, like a scar or blemish covered over with make-up: invisible and unknown to everyone but the person who inflicted it and the afflicted. After a while, it fades and the person seems to forget it was ever there, but he can't ever truly forget - the mark has been made. Forgetting the marks you've made on others is a crisis of faith.
"Life is doubt, and faith without doubt is nothing but death."
- Miguel de Unamuno
"Skepticism is the beginning of faith."
- Oscar Wilde
We make marks in all sorts of ways, on our friends more than anyone else. On the most basic level, our best friends bear our marks more than anyone else - those friends that we can trust with everything, who are always there for us, to listen, comfort, help, cheer up, or just be around. You don't have to be a person's best friend, though, to be a good friend. Sometimes you don't need someone who's going to listen to your problems and talk you through them and help you out - sometimes you need someone who's not going to ask you any questions and will just take your mind off things. Sometimes you don't need someone who's going to be particularly kind and sensitive and thoughtful - you need someone who's not going to treat you any differently than normal. Sometimes, a good friend is simply one who will give you what you need - or, rather, what you think you need - what you want.
Elliot's thoughts: Listening to Molly made me realize a person doesn't have to be perfect to be exactly what you need.
- Scrubs
I guess it comes down to what kind of friend you want to be. Do you want to give friends what they want, what sometimes they only think they need, or do you want to give them what they really need? The problem is, people are more apt to like you if you simply give them what they want all the time. Giving people what they need, what is best for them in the long run, isn't always the most popular route, and it's usually not the easiest. If you want to give them what they really need, you have to be sharp. You have to be able to tell when they really need to be distracted from when they're just running away from something. You have to be able to tell when intervening is going to help and when it's going to push them to the edge. You won't get it right every time, but hey, you've got to try. Right?
And all at once the crowd begins to sing
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same...
The Fray
----------------
Now playing: Matchbox Twenty - Bent
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Promises to Keep
My favorite thing about Christmas is that at Christmastime, people feel like it's okay to tell/show the people they love that, well, they love them. It's acceptable to be emotional. It's acceptable to be sentimental. It's acceptable to do generous things for others. It's acceptable to be frank and straightforwardly honest about how you feel about others, without need for eloquence or fanciness - without dressing it up. Generally, it's acceptable to be yourself and love others for being themselves. It's the whole "Christmas spirit" thing. It's really rather beautiful and moving and whatnot.
Except it's kind of lame that this is only acceptable at Christmastime. Most people only show their love, gratitude, faith, and hope around the holidays, and it's so silly. "It's Christmas" becomes an excuse to be like this only for two weeks out of the year. I know everyone else in the world laments this conditioning around Christmas every year, but no one ever does anything about it. Everyone makes resolutions at New Year's to be more patient or more loving or this or that and no one ever keeps them. It'd be nice if we actually did that for once. I don't know what I'm getting at. I'm just saying.
----------------
Now playing: Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Promises to Keep
Except it's kind of lame that this is only acceptable at Christmastime. Most people only show their love, gratitude, faith, and hope around the holidays, and it's so silly. "It's Christmas" becomes an excuse to be like this only for two weeks out of the year. I know everyone else in the world laments this conditioning around Christmas every year, but no one ever does anything about it. Everyone makes resolutions at New Year's to be more patient or more loving or this or that and no one ever keeps them. It'd be nice if we actually did that for once. I don't know what I'm getting at. I'm just saying.
Christmas time on a cold December morning -
All is calm and the world is still asleep.
Christmas lights that have been caught without warning
Gently glitter on,
Stars to wish upon,
All the world is at peace.
Christmas time and the year will soon be leaving,
Cloaked in time till it's just a memory.
Christmas stays if we don't forget its meaning.
Days go quickly by,
Years they multiply,
And we go searching for thee.
And the dream is still alive
From that first December morning,
And it always will survive
As long as we can see
That the dreams we find in life
Are the dreams we tend to seek,
And Christmas has its promises to keep.
Christmas time, and the moments just beginning
From last night when we'd wished upon a star.
If our kindness this day is just pretending,
If we pretend long enough,
Never giving up,
It just might be who we are.
All is calm and the world is still asleep.
Christmas lights that have been caught without warning
Gently glitter on,
Stars to wish upon,
All the world is at peace.
Christmas time and the year will soon be leaving,
Cloaked in time till it's just a memory.
Christmas stays if we don't forget its meaning.
Days go quickly by,
Years they multiply,
And we go searching for thee.
And the dream is still alive
From that first December morning,
And it always will survive
As long as we can see
That the dreams we find in life
Are the dreams we tend to seek,
And Christmas has its promises to keep.
Christmas time, and the moments just beginning
From last night when we'd wished upon a star.
If our kindness this day is just pretending,
If we pretend long enough,
Never giving up,
It just might be who we are.
----------------
Now playing: Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Promises to Keep
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Chew on this.
"The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respected or praised or even loved. And that, perhaps, is what makes him different from others."
- Leo C. Rosten
"An intellectual is a man who says a simple thing in a difficult way; an artist is a man who says a difficult thing in a simple way."
- Charles Bukowski
"Why do some people write? Because they are too weak not to."
- Karl Kraus
I'll get back to this. Eventually. No time now.
- Leo C. Rosten
"An intellectual is a man who says a simple thing in a difficult way; an artist is a man who says a difficult thing in a simple way."
- Charles Bukowski
"Why do some people write? Because they are too weak not to."
- Karl Kraus
I'll get back to this. Eventually. No time now.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Steps to being happy:
So here it is. Backwards:
7. Love life.
6. Be loved for who you are.
5. Love other people for who they are.
4. Love who you are.
3. Be who you are.
2. Accept who you are.
1. Know who you are.
Jeez, that makes it sound so easy. Really though. How can you love others or be loved if you don't love yourself? And how can you love yourself if you don't be yourself? And how can you be yourself if you don't accept who you are now and know what kind of person you want to become? And how can you do any of that if you don't know who you are?
Conundrum.
"Find out who you are, and do it on purpose." -- Dolly Parton
I like this better:
3. Smile. Laugh.
2. Stop thinking.
1. Stop caring.
Hahahahahahahaha. I'm so funny.
----------------
Now playing: Missy Higgins - The Sound of White
7. Love life.
6. Be loved for who you are.
5. Love other people for who they are.
4. Love who you are.
3. Be who you are.
2. Accept who you are.
1. Know who you are.
Jeez, that makes it sound so easy. Really though. How can you love others or be loved if you don't love yourself? And how can you love yourself if you don't be yourself? And how can you be yourself if you don't accept who you are now and know what kind of person you want to become? And how can you do any of that if you don't know who you are?
Conundrum.
"Find out who you are, and do it on purpose." -- Dolly Parton
I like this better:
3. Smile. Laugh.
2. Stop thinking.
1. Stop caring.
Hahahahahahahaha. I'm so funny.
----------------
Now playing: Missy Higgins - The Sound of White
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Billy: What’s the big deal here? So ya lost a job? Jules, I’ve lost twenty of ‘em since graduation. Plus a wife and kid. And, in a new development this morning, a handful of hair in the shower drain. That’s better. Ya know, this smells to me like a little bit of self-created drama. I should know; I’ve been starring in a few of my own.
Jules: Do you know what I’ve been doing every day since I got fired?
Billy: No. What?
Jules: I’ve been going down to the hospital and sitting with my step-monster. We’ve had the best talks we’ve ever had. Of course, she’s in a coma, which really pisses me off, because all that time, I just waited for one word from that woman about why father hates me so much. [Sobs, refusing cigarette] No!
Billy: Jules, y'know, honey, this isn't real. You know what it is? It's St. Elmo's Fire. Electric flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them... there was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep ‘em going when things got tough, just like you're making up all of this. We're all going through this. It's our time on the edge.
Jules: I’m just so tired, Billy. I never thought I’d be so tired at 22. I just don’t even know who to be any more.
Billy: Join the club. You know, no one was buying this “together woman of the ‘80s” stuff anyway.
Jules: And all this time I was worried that you’d find out I wasn’t fabulous. [chuckles]
Billy: It’s cool. All this time I was afraid you’d find out I was irresponsible. [Jules laughs] Ha ha.
Kirby: [outside the door] It’s her laughing!
Kevin: Yeah, the hysterical laughter of the most freakishly schizophrenic paranoids.
-- St. Elmo's Fire
Jules: Do you know what I’ve been doing every day since I got fired?
Billy: No. What?
Jules: I’ve been going down to the hospital and sitting with my step-monster. We’ve had the best talks we’ve ever had. Of course, she’s in a coma, which really pisses me off, because all that time, I just waited for one word from that woman about why father hates me so much. [Sobs, refusing cigarette] No!
Billy: Jules, y'know, honey, this isn't real. You know what it is? It's St. Elmo's Fire. Electric flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them... there was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep ‘em going when things got tough, just like you're making up all of this. We're all going through this. It's our time on the edge.
Jules: I’m just so tired, Billy. I never thought I’d be so tired at 22. I just don’t even know who to be any more.
Billy: Join the club. You know, no one was buying this “together woman of the ‘80s” stuff anyway.
Jules: And all this time I was worried that you’d find out I wasn’t fabulous. [chuckles]
Billy: It’s cool. All this time I was afraid you’d find out I was irresponsible. [Jules laughs] Ha ha.
Kirby: [outside the door] It’s her laughing!
Kevin: Yeah, the hysterical laughter of the most freakishly schizophrenic paranoids.
-- St. Elmo's Fire
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
"Her rejection so fained and humiliated me that I justified myself to her at every turn." He sighed. "We exchanged words that I will regret to the end of my life. Later, I wrote her a letter explaining my actions in regard to her sister, for which she will never, I believe, forgive me. As for the misunderstanding, I have hopes of being acquitted in that quarter, but none so strong that would support a rapprochement. Her opinion of me and my faults, she made quite clear. No, she does not, nor can she ever, love me, my dear." His voice dropped.
"Dear brother!" Georgiana's pity was sweeter than he had ever suspected pity could be.
"I raged against the crushing of my heart and the advent of a joyless future. I blamed her for deceiving me, fate for toying with me, everyone and everything save myself. As you said, we have been brought up to think well of ourselves, perhaps too well. Since my return from Kent, I have meanly thrashed about in my pain without a thought for those who care for my well-being... In my pride and conceit I have behaved abominably, foolishly. I stand shamed." He swallowed hard. "I am not the man I had thought to become, before the memory of our father. Further, I have given you pain, Georgiana, most selfishly," he concluded, "and I am heartily sorry for it." He released her hand and waited, steeling himself for whatever should come.
"Brother," she gasped, putting fingers to her lips to force back the sob in her voice. "Such pain, Fitzwilliam! I knew your anger, your isolation came from hurt of something, but this! To love so and to receive..." Emotion caught her up again, preventing her from continuing.
"My pain..." He reached into his coat pocket and brought out his handkerchief to daub at her cheeks. "My pain is not sufficient excuse for my actions even if I had not brought its cause upon myself."
"What a sorry pair we make." She looked up at him as he did her his gentle service. "We have, both of us, been given to see ourselves and have responded like children, unwilling to be taught and resentful of our discipline."
"But you are reconciled, I think." He looked at her closely. "Whereas I am only resigned."
Gently, her head came to rest upon his shoulder, and her hand was shyly laid over his heart. "I know," she whispered. "But it is a step away from the angry pain you have been suffering so cruelly and alone. Pray, do not continue so, Fitzwilliam!"
Slipping his arms around her, Darcy held her close and placed a kiss upon her curls. "Shall you be my Portia, pleading my case before the bar?" He laid his cheek upon the place he had kissed.
Georgiana sighed as she burrowed deeper into his shoulder. "Not I alone, dear brother; but yes, ever your Portia."
Pamela Aidan, These Three Remain
----------------
Now playing: Trans-Siberian Orchestra - This Christmas Day
"Dear brother!" Georgiana's pity was sweeter than he had ever suspected pity could be.
"I raged against the crushing of my heart and the advent of a joyless future. I blamed her for deceiving me, fate for toying with me, everyone and everything save myself. As you said, we have been brought up to think well of ourselves, perhaps too well. Since my return from Kent, I have meanly thrashed about in my pain without a thought for those who care for my well-being... In my pride and conceit I have behaved abominably, foolishly. I stand shamed." He swallowed hard. "I am not the man I had thought to become, before the memory of our father. Further, I have given you pain, Georgiana, most selfishly," he concluded, "and I am heartily sorry for it." He released her hand and waited, steeling himself for whatever should come.
"Brother," she gasped, putting fingers to her lips to force back the sob in her voice. "Such pain, Fitzwilliam! I knew your anger, your isolation came from hurt of something, but this! To love so and to receive..." Emotion caught her up again, preventing her from continuing.
"My pain..." He reached into his coat pocket and brought out his handkerchief to daub at her cheeks. "My pain is not sufficient excuse for my actions even if I had not brought its cause upon myself."
"What a sorry pair we make." She looked up at him as he did her his gentle service. "We have, both of us, been given to see ourselves and have responded like children, unwilling to be taught and resentful of our discipline."
"But you are reconciled, I think." He looked at her closely. "Whereas I am only resigned."
Gently, her head came to rest upon his shoulder, and her hand was shyly laid over his heart. "I know," she whispered. "But it is a step away from the angry pain you have been suffering so cruelly and alone. Pray, do not continue so, Fitzwilliam!"
Slipping his arms around her, Darcy held her close and placed a kiss upon her curls. "Shall you be my Portia, pleading my case before the bar?" He laid his cheek upon the place he had kissed.
Georgiana sighed as she burrowed deeper into his shoulder. "Not I alone, dear brother; but yes, ever your Portia."
Pamela Aidan, These Three Remain
----------------
Now playing: Trans-Siberian Orchestra - This Christmas Day
Sunday, December 2, 2007
"Back to a Reason (Part II)"
Time, standing all alone.
I bled for you.
I wanted to,
Each drop my own.
Slowly they depart,
But fall in vain
Like desert rain,
But still they fall on and on and on.
Got to get back to a reason,
Got to get back to a reason I once knew.
And this late in the seasons,
One by one, distractions fade from view.
So, drifting through the dark,
The sympathy
Of night’s mercy
Inside my heart.
Is your life the same?
Do ghosts cry tears?
Do they feel years
As time just goes on and on and on?
Got to get back to a reason,
Got to get back to a reason I once knew.
And this late in the seasons,
One by one, distractions fade from view.
I’m looking for you,
I’m looking for I don’t know what.
I can’t see there any more,
And all my time’s been taken.
Is this what it seems?
The lure of a dream?
And I’m afraid to walk back
Through that door
To find that I’ve awaken.
The night seems to care.
The dream’s in the air.
The snow’s coming down.
It beckons me, dare.
It whispers, it hopes,
It holds and confides,
And offers a bridge
Across these divides.
The parts of my life
I tried to forget,
It’s gathered each piece
And carefully kept.
Somewhere in the dark,
Beyond all the cold,
There is a child
That’s part of my soul,
That’s part of my soul.
Got to get back to a reason,
Got to get back to a reason I once knew.
And this late in the seasons,
One by one, distractions fade from view.
The only reason I have left is you.
I bled for you.
I wanted to,
Each drop my own.
Slowly they depart,
But fall in vain
Like desert rain,
But still they fall on and on and on.
Got to get back to a reason,
Got to get back to a reason I once knew.
And this late in the seasons,
One by one, distractions fade from view.
So, drifting through the dark,
The sympathy
Of night’s mercy
Inside my heart.
Is your life the same?
Do ghosts cry tears?
Do they feel years
As time just goes on and on and on?
Got to get back to a reason,
Got to get back to a reason I once knew.
And this late in the seasons,
One by one, distractions fade from view.
I’m looking for you,
I’m looking for I don’t know what.
I can’t see there any more,
And all my time’s been taken.
Is this what it seems?
The lure of a dream?
And I’m afraid to walk back
Through that door
To find that I’ve awaken.
The night seems to care.
The dream’s in the air.
The snow’s coming down.
It beckons me, dare.
It whispers, it hopes,
It holds and confides,
And offers a bridge
Across these divides.
The parts of my life
I tried to forget,
It’s gathered each piece
And carefully kept.
Somewhere in the dark,
Beyond all the cold,
There is a child
That’s part of my soul,
That’s part of my soul.
Got to get back to a reason,
Got to get back to a reason I once knew.
And this late in the seasons,
One by one, distractions fade from view.
The only reason I have left is you.
"I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started."
- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
One step forward, twelve steps back. Argh.
Why can't I just frickin forget about all this.
Damn me.
Oh wait. I'm already damned. Otherwise this wouldn't be a problem.
Roland: We all die in time. It’s not just the world that moves on… But we will be magnificent… There’s more than a world to win…
Eddie: What are you talking about?
Roland: Everything there is… We are going to go… We are going to fight. We are going to be hurt. And in the end, we will stand… Even the damned love.
- Stephen King, The Drawing of the Three
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
- Eleanor Roosevelt
How do I stop myself from relinquishing my consent without meaning to all the time???
Argh.
----------------
Now playing: The All-American Rejects - Move Along
- Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
One step forward, twelve steps back. Argh.
Why can't I just frickin forget about all this.
Damn me.
Oh wait. I'm already damned. Otherwise this wouldn't be a problem.
Roland: We all die in time. It’s not just the world that moves on… But we will be magnificent… There’s more than a world to win…
Eddie: What are you talking about?
Roland: Everything there is… We are going to go… We are going to fight. We are going to be hurt. And in the end, we will stand… Even the damned love.
- Stephen King, The Drawing of the Three
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
- Eleanor Roosevelt
How do I stop myself from relinquishing my consent without meaning to all the time???
Argh.
----------------
Now playing: The All-American Rejects - Move Along
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Duh.
I am madly in love with Alan Shore and his amazing closings.
I'm just saying. That wasn't what I wanted to write though.
My point is:
I'm retarded.
All that stuff about forgiveness.
Yeah, of course it's about letting go.
And what is letting go about?
Closure.
Seriously, how could I have forgotten that.
On Boston Legal the other night, Allan Shore argued that a mixture of revenge and justice can give a person the greatest and most satisfying closure.
Merriam-Webster says closure is, "an often comforting or satisfying sense of finalityclosure ; also : something (as a satisfying ending) that provides such a sense."
In other words, it's understanding and acceptance.
And those two are pretty closely linked. For the most part, understanding is key to acceptance. Which is where the difficulty lies. How can you accept what you don't understand? And how do you come to understand what you cannot comprehend?
Sometimes, I think it just takes a bit of help from someone else. A different perspective.
But other times, I think you simply can't. In certain situations at certain times in certain places, you just can't. At which point, you just have to accept the fact that you can't understand, and therefore can't accept.
On the whole, it's not easy, is it?
Then again, what in life is?
I'm just saying. That wasn't what I wanted to write though.
My point is:
I'm retarded.
All that stuff about forgiveness.
Yeah, of course it's about letting go.
And what is letting go about?
Closure.
Seriously, how could I have forgotten that.
On Boston Legal the other night, Allan Shore argued that a mixture of revenge and justice can give a person the greatest and most satisfying closure.
Merriam-Webster says closure is, "an often comforting or satisfying sense of finality
In other words, it's understanding and acceptance.
And those two are pretty closely linked. For the most part, understanding is key to acceptance. Which is where the difficulty lies. How can you accept what you don't understand? And how do you come to understand what you cannot comprehend?
Sometimes, I think it just takes a bit of help from someone else. A different perspective.
But other times, I think you simply can't. In certain situations at certain times in certain places, you just can't. At which point, you just have to accept the fact that you can't understand, and therefore can't accept.
On the whole, it's not easy, is it?
Then again, what in life is?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
It's really disconcerting how certain actions or places can connect so deeply to certain emotions or feelings that you associate with an experience. I was driving home a certain way before, and I was just suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that it was this time last year, or some time last winter. It was so eerie, especially because where I was last year is so different from where I am now. Except it isn't. But it is. I dunno. Whatever. It was just a really striking feeling and it hasn't quite gone away yet...
Sunday, November 18, 2007
"Nothing matters in this whole wide world...
...When you're in love with a Jersey girl..."
1. Only Tom Waits and Bruce Springsteen are allowed to say “down the shore.” Otherwise, it’s never “the shore.” It’s the beach. Real Jersey Girls know this. And it’s not just a summer thing. True Jersey Girls haunt their beaches all year ‘round.
2. Sand is her friend. In between the sheets, in her car, in her hair – wherever. A Jersey Girl doesn’t mind – she embraces it.
3. She’s proud to be from Jersey. She knows that yes, the boardwalk is trashy. Yes, Seaside Heights is trashy. If a Benny argues otherwise, they’re obviously not from around here. If a Benny agrees, who are they to judge? It may be trashy, but it’s home. Though she may complain about New Jersey and say she hates living here, she knows its trashy spots are part of its charm, and when you get down to it, she’ll always defend it.
4. When it’s warm, shoes are optional, and if they’re on, they’re flip flops. She probably has at least half a dozen pairs. Make up is also optional, and if she’s wearing any, it’s probably mascara. Waterproof. She also knows there’s nothing shameful about tan lines – she’s proud of hers, just as she should be.
5. A Jersey Girl won’t play games: she’ll say what she means. Yeah, she might have an attitude, but regardless of how she says it, you’ll always know a true Jersey girl isn’t being fake.
6. She knows that it doesn’t take much to have a good time. She’s cool with just chilling on the beach, or spending an evening driving around town with the windows down and the radio on. Odds are, she’s up for anything.
7. Food. A Jersey Girl not only knows where the nearest diner is, but she knows where to get the best pizza, subs, hot dogs, boardwalk fries, ice cream – and she has no problem with eating it all.
8. Every Jersey Girl is different, but all of them are spunky, confident, fun-loving, laid-back, warm, tough, sweet, unpretentious, loyal, and independent on one level or another – some more than others, but it’s cool: she embraces her uniqueness, and is proud of the fact that there’s no one quite like her.
9. No matter where she is, what she’s doing, or what she’s wearing, all Jersey Girls are stunning. It’s a careless beauty, an inner glow, and whether you can see it or not, it’s there.
10. Jersey Girls are classy. Always.
The Truth about Jersey Girls
1. Only Tom Waits and Bruce Springsteen are allowed to say “down the shore.” Otherwise, it’s never “the shore.” It’s the beach. Real Jersey Girls know this. And it’s not just a summer thing. True Jersey Girls haunt their beaches all year ‘round.
2. Sand is her friend. In between the sheets, in her car, in her hair – wherever. A Jersey Girl doesn’t mind – she embraces it.
3. She’s proud to be from Jersey. She knows that yes, the boardwalk is trashy. Yes, Seaside Heights is trashy. If a Benny argues otherwise, they’re obviously not from around here. If a Benny agrees, who are they to judge? It may be trashy, but it’s home. Though she may complain about New Jersey and say she hates living here, she knows its trashy spots are part of its charm, and when you get down to it, she’ll always defend it.
4. When it’s warm, shoes are optional, and if they’re on, they’re flip flops. She probably has at least half a dozen pairs. Make up is also optional, and if she’s wearing any, it’s probably mascara. Waterproof. She also knows there’s nothing shameful about tan lines – she’s proud of hers, just as she should be.
5. A Jersey Girl won’t play games: she’ll say what she means. Yeah, she might have an attitude, but regardless of how she says it, you’ll always know a true Jersey girl isn’t being fake.
6. She knows that it doesn’t take much to have a good time. She’s cool with just chilling on the beach, or spending an evening driving around town with the windows down and the radio on. Odds are, she’s up for anything.
7. Food. A Jersey Girl not only knows where the nearest diner is, but she knows where to get the best pizza, subs, hot dogs, boardwalk fries, ice cream – and she has no problem with eating it all.
8. Every Jersey Girl is different, but all of them are spunky, confident, fun-loving, laid-back, warm, tough, sweet, unpretentious, loyal, and independent on one level or another – some more than others, but it’s cool: she embraces her uniqueness, and is proud of the fact that there’s no one quite like her.
9. No matter where she is, what she’s doing, or what she’s wearing, all Jersey Girls are stunning. It’s a careless beauty, an inner glow, and whether you can see it or not, it’s there.
10. Jersey Girls are classy. Always.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Outta Here...
Going to college was supposed to be liberating.
Yet I keep feeling more and more trapped. More held back. More restrained.
What the eff.
Yet I keep feeling more and more trapped. More held back. More restrained.
What the eff.
Outta here,
How am I gonna get outta here?
I'm thinking outta here,
When am I gonna get outta here?
And when will I cash in my lottery ticket,
And bury my past with my burdens and strife?
I want to shake every limb in the garden of Eden
And make every love, the love of my life...
How am I gonna get outta here?
I'm thinking outta here,
When am I gonna get outta here?
And when will I cash in my lottery ticket,
And bury my past with my burdens and strife?
I want to shake every limb in the garden of Eden
And make every love, the love of my life...
Friday, November 9, 2007
"There are many things that we would throw away...
...if we were not afraid that others might pick them up."
- Oscar Wilde
Okay, so I was musing about forgiveness a while back, but it was completely illogical in practical application, which I realized even then. Saying the words and meaning them are two different things, obviously.
In a way, forgiveness is all about vindiction - it's all about letting go. And I've come to wonder if the act of letting go is something to be achieved, or something that just occurs. Can you make yourself let something go? Can you force yourself to drop a grudge or erase bitterness? Or is it something that just happens, something for which you need to wait? And if it is possible to make yourself let go, how do you go about it? What do you do to make yourself forgive and forget?
I feel like it isn't possible to be able to force yourself to let go of something, be it pain, bitterness, anger, or even love or desire. You can't insist that you forgive someone - if you try, you'll only be saying the words, going through the motions - for all intents and purposes, you'll simply be lying to both yourself and the person seeking or deserving your pardon. And you may honestly know they deserve it: you may be aware that you should be able to let go, forgive, and move on. You may be a bit ashamed that some kind of immaturity is holding you back from letting go. But emotionally, you can't. How do you come to terms with those emotions, let go of the bitterness, drop the grudge, forget what has upset you?
Though, is it really immaturity? What is it, exactly, that stops us from from wanting to forgive? In adults, it certainly seems like it's immaturity. It's exploited for comedy at times - in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Harry can't forgive Harmony for sleeping with his best friend when they were in high school 'cause she'd promised not to, even though that was probably a good 15, 20 years earlier, and he can't stop repeating, "You slept with [him]." It's a really funny sequence, and it makes him seem like he's a teenager trapped in a man's body, who's being really immature. But is that really accurate? Why is that so "immature"? Is it really, or has society just labeled it as immature?
It's difficult: why can't we let go? Do we just have to wait it out? Does it simply vary from person to person - is it easy for some, harder for others? I guess what you're letting go factors into the equation, too. If all you can do is wait for the feeling to pass, wait to want to forgive, what do you do in the mean time? How do you handle what it is you want to let go?
One night several weeks before Daniel had taken her out to dinner and asked for a divorce, she'd woken up and seen that he wasn't in bed. She found him in the living room, in the armchair, looking out at the rain. The wind was shrill against the windows, rocking the trees. Sylvia loved a storm at night. It made everything simple. It made you content just to be dry.
Obviously it was having different effect on Daniel. "Are you happy?" he had asked.
This sounded like the start of a long conversation. Sylvia didn't have on her robe or her slippers. She was cold. She was tired. "Yes," she said, not because she was, but because she wanted to keep things short. And she might be happy. She couldn't think of anything making her unhappy. She hadn't asked herself that question for a very long time.
"I can't always tell," Daniel said.
Sylvia heard this as a criticism. It was a complaint he'd made before--she was too subdued, too reticent. When would she learn to let go? Water poured from the gutters onto the deck. Sylvia could hear a car pass on Fifth Street, the shhh of its tires. "I'm going back to bed," she said.
"You go on," Daniel told her. "I'll be along in a minute."
But he wasn't, and she fell asleep. She had a familiar dream. She was in a foreign city and no one spoke the languages she spoke. She tried to call home, but her cell phone was dead. She put the wrong money in the pay phone, and when she finally got it right, a strange man answered. "Daniel's not here," he told her. "No, I don't know where he went. No I don't know when he'll be back."
In the morning she tried to speak to Daniel, but he was no longer willing. "It was nothing," he said. "I don't know what that was about. Forget it."
----------------
Listening to: Mandy Moore - All Good Things
- Oscar Wilde
Okay, so I was musing about forgiveness a while back, but it was completely illogical in practical application, which I realized even then. Saying the words and meaning them are two different things, obviously.
In a way, forgiveness is all about vindiction - it's all about letting go. And I've come to wonder if the act of letting go is something to be achieved, or something that just occurs. Can you make yourself let something go? Can you force yourself to drop a grudge or erase bitterness? Or is it something that just happens, something for which you need to wait? And if it is possible to make yourself let go, how do you go about it? What do you do to make yourself forgive and forget?
I feel like it isn't possible to be able to force yourself to let go of something, be it pain, bitterness, anger, or even love or desire. You can't insist that you forgive someone - if you try, you'll only be saying the words, going through the motions - for all intents and purposes, you'll simply be lying to both yourself and the person seeking or deserving your pardon. And you may honestly know they deserve it: you may be aware that you should be able to let go, forgive, and move on. You may be a bit ashamed that some kind of immaturity is holding you back from letting go. But emotionally, you can't. How do you come to terms with those emotions, let go of the bitterness, drop the grudge, forget what has upset you?
Though, is it really immaturity? What is it, exactly, that stops us from from wanting to forgive? In adults, it certainly seems like it's immaturity. It's exploited for comedy at times - in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Harry can't forgive Harmony for sleeping with his best friend when they were in high school 'cause she'd promised not to, even though that was probably a good 15, 20 years earlier, and he can't stop repeating, "You slept with [him]." It's a really funny sequence, and it makes him seem like he's a teenager trapped in a man's body, who's being really immature. But is that really accurate? Why is that so "immature"? Is it really, or has society just labeled it as immature?
It's difficult: why can't we let go? Do we just have to wait it out? Does it simply vary from person to person - is it easy for some, harder for others? I guess what you're letting go factors into the equation, too. If all you can do is wait for the feeling to pass, wait to want to forgive, what do you do in the mean time? How do you handle what it is you want to let go?
One night several weeks before Daniel had taken her out to dinner and asked for a divorce, she'd woken up and seen that he wasn't in bed. She found him in the living room, in the armchair, looking out at the rain. The wind was shrill against the windows, rocking the trees. Sylvia loved a storm at night. It made everything simple. It made you content just to be dry.
Obviously it was having different effect on Daniel. "Are you happy?" he had asked.
This sounded like the start of a long conversation. Sylvia didn't have on her robe or her slippers. She was cold. She was tired. "Yes," she said, not because she was, but because she wanted to keep things short. And she might be happy. She couldn't think of anything making her unhappy. She hadn't asked herself that question for a very long time.
"I can't always tell," Daniel said.
Sylvia heard this as a criticism. It was a complaint he'd made before--she was too subdued, too reticent. When would she learn to let go? Water poured from the gutters onto the deck. Sylvia could hear a car pass on Fifth Street, the shhh of its tires. "I'm going back to bed," she said.
"You go on," Daniel told her. "I'll be along in a minute."
But he wasn't, and she fell asleep. She had a familiar dream. She was in a foreign city and no one spoke the languages she spoke. She tried to call home, but her cell phone was dead. She put the wrong money in the pay phone, and when she finally got it right, a strange man answered. "Daniel's not here," he told her. "No, I don't know where he went. No I don't know when he'll be back."
In the morning she tried to speak to Daniel, but he was no longer willing. "It was nothing," he said. "I don't know what that was about. Forget it."
----------------
Listening to: Mandy Moore - All Good Things
Thursday, November 8, 2007
A Quick Explanation
So I've realized that I was being terribly one-sided in my discussion of how I wish everyone would just slow the heck down and take the time to appreciate stuff and live more fulfilling lives. Because there are people who don't move at the break-neck pace of the East Coast...rather, Northeast Coast...and who says that they live more fulfilling lives than the rest of us? Everything in the South moves like nothing else exists, like nothing matters - and I find it intolerably slow. Lifestyles in other countries are like this, too - no one's in any thing remotely resembling a "rush," ever. I don't think I could handle that, all the time.
However, the fast pace of life here is only tolerable when it's simply a tool to keep you moving, to prevent idleness, to maintain excitement and interest. When the fast pace gets to be stressful and overwhelming, when it makes you blind to the important things in life, that's when I have a problem with it. And when it never stops, but just keeps getting faster, sucking you in deeper and deeper. That's when it becomes detrimental. I guess as in all things, a balance must be found.
I feel better having explained that to myself.
However, the fast pace of life here is only tolerable when it's simply a tool to keep you moving, to prevent idleness, to maintain excitement and interest. When the fast pace gets to be stressful and overwhelming, when it makes you blind to the important things in life, that's when I have a problem with it. And when it never stops, but just keeps getting faster, sucking you in deeper and deeper. That's when it becomes detrimental. I guess as in all things, a balance must be found.
I feel better having explained that to myself.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
"To die so young is more than merely dying; it is to lose so large a part of life..."
"Don't it always seem to go,
That you don't know what you got till it's gone?"
- Joni Mitchell, "Big Yellow Taxi"
So my Facebook homepage feed told me today that a guy I had a class with last year joined a group called "Stay Strong Nick." Description: "To a brother who could always make us smile, you're forever in our thoughts and prayer, we love you brother." Recent News: "Nov. 3- Nick was in a severe car accident last night. *Nov. 4, Nick passed away late this afternoon...our deepest condolences go out to his family." Related group: "STAY STRONG GARY..YOU ARE IN OUR PRAYERS". Description: "PLease leave and stories or memories you have of Gary. RIP GARY DEVERCELLY..you will always be in our hearts..we will never forget you "CALI" We love you G-Baby 9.4.88- 3.30.07"
This is the part that Blogger keeps deleting on me that I've written twice already and am now trying to remember:
I hate these groups. Mostly because there are too many of them. Far too many. It's lovely that people gather together to share memories and love for a lost loved one, but none of them should be lost. No matter what the reason - an uncontrollable terminal illness, a freak accident - it's a tragedy every time. Too often, I feel like it's probably the result of some reckless act of youth. When we're young, we have this subconscious belief that we are impervious, that we are immortal. I hate that. Nothing can touch us or hurt us. I feel like this is almost a natural, inherent attitude, that occurs in everyone in various degrees. Bad things don't happen to us, or to the people we love - only to other people. Other people get into horrible car accidents, other people get alcohol poisoning and die, other people get assaulted - it's always other people. And this attitude is reflected in what we do. We get careless and thoughtless, we take so-called "calculated" risks that only calculate what we risk in terms of ourselves, not in terms of others. We do stupid things because "it's only one time" or "just this once." We flirt with fate, because nothing can get to us - nothing can reach us, in our youth. We've got it all: we're young, we're healthy, we're carefree, and we've got our whole lives ahead of us.
Except that's not always the case. Bad things happen. Often to people who don't deserve to have bad things happen to them. But they happen. And when tragedy strikes, we feel it deeply, but often only fleetingly. We mourn in that dramatic melancholy that belongs only to the young - the kind that lasts only a while before our world moves on, and in a sense, we forget that it ever happened or could ever happen again. Not everyone does this, but many do. And then we go back to our reckless lifestyles until one day, we stop, for whatever reason - there are many.
"Like the wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerers and commoners alike. And all that we are, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment."
- Harlan Ellison
We never really value our lives or the moments we're given. There's so much in every mundane, little moment that we take for granted. Cracking a joke with a stranger. Sitting around in silence with a friend. Meeting someone new. Going on a trip. Getting a new job. Listening to a speaker. Eating your favorite food. Dancing. Taking a solitary walk. Splashing through puddles. Alone, these things are simple experiences that everyone can understand. Woven together, they're your life.
"There is so much in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it, and the heart to love it, and the hand to gather it to ourselves--so much in men and women, so much in art and literature, so much everywhere in which to delight, and for which to be thankful."
- L. M. Montgomery
We waste a lot of time being angry. I guess that's okay, on one level - without the anger and pain and bitterness and negative emotions and bad moods, the good stuff wouldn't seem so great. But letting that control us - it'll drive you nuts. Shakespeare said, "Sweet are the uses of adversity," and they are. Everything that we experience, it becomes a part of us, and being positive about everything we experience makes our overall life that much sweeter. Of course, that's easier said than done.
"I don't know, you know, I always think that if I could just accept the fact that my life was supposed to be difficult, you know, that's what to be expected, then I might not get so pissed-off about it and I'd just be glad when something nice happens."
- Jesse, Before Sunrise
I guess we just do the best we can and that's all there really is...
I dunno. I'm not really succeeding in the whole transposing thought/feeling to words deal tonight.
Haha. On that note, one last quote:
"I quote others only in order to better express myself."
- Michel de Montaigne
That you don't know what you got till it's gone?"
- Joni Mitchell, "Big Yellow Taxi"
So my Facebook homepage feed told me today that a guy I had a class with last year joined a group called "Stay Strong Nick." Description: "To a brother who could always make us smile, you're forever in our thoughts and prayer, we love you brother." Recent News: "Nov. 3- Nick was in a severe car accident last night. *Nov. 4, Nick passed away late this afternoon...our deepest condolences go out to his family." Related group: "STAY STRONG GARY..YOU ARE IN OUR PRAYERS". Description: "PLease leave and stories or memories you have of Gary. RIP GARY DEVERCELLY..you will always be in our hearts..we will never forget you "CALI" We love you G-Baby 9.4.88- 3.30.07"
This is the part that Blogger keeps deleting on me that I've written twice already and am now trying to remember:
I hate these groups. Mostly because there are too many of them. Far too many. It's lovely that people gather together to share memories and love for a lost loved one, but none of them should be lost. No matter what the reason - an uncontrollable terminal illness, a freak accident - it's a tragedy every time. Too often, I feel like it's probably the result of some reckless act of youth. When we're young, we have this subconscious belief that we are impervious, that we are immortal. I hate that. Nothing can touch us or hurt us. I feel like this is almost a natural, inherent attitude, that occurs in everyone in various degrees. Bad things don't happen to us, or to the people we love - only to other people. Other people get into horrible car accidents, other people get alcohol poisoning and die, other people get assaulted - it's always other people. And this attitude is reflected in what we do. We get careless and thoughtless, we take so-called "calculated" risks that only calculate what we risk in terms of ourselves, not in terms of others. We do stupid things because "it's only one time" or "just this once." We flirt with fate, because nothing can get to us - nothing can reach us, in our youth. We've got it all: we're young, we're healthy, we're carefree, and we've got our whole lives ahead of us.
Except that's not always the case. Bad things happen. Often to people who don't deserve to have bad things happen to them. But they happen. And when tragedy strikes, we feel it deeply, but often only fleetingly. We mourn in that dramatic melancholy that belongs only to the young - the kind that lasts only a while before our world moves on, and in a sense, we forget that it ever happened or could ever happen again. Not everyone does this, but many do. And then we go back to our reckless lifestyles until one day, we stop, for whatever reason - there are many.
"Like the wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerers and commoners alike. And all that we are, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment."
- Harlan Ellison
We never really value our lives or the moments we're given. There's so much in every mundane, little moment that we take for granted. Cracking a joke with a stranger. Sitting around in silence with a friend. Meeting someone new. Going on a trip. Getting a new job. Listening to a speaker. Eating your favorite food. Dancing. Taking a solitary walk. Splashing through puddles. Alone, these things are simple experiences that everyone can understand. Woven together, they're your life.
"There is so much in the world for us all if we only have the eyes to see it, and the heart to love it, and the hand to gather it to ourselves--so much in men and women, so much in art and literature, so much everywhere in which to delight, and for which to be thankful."
- L. M. Montgomery
We waste a lot of time being angry. I guess that's okay, on one level - without the anger and pain and bitterness and negative emotions and bad moods, the good stuff wouldn't seem so great. But letting that control us - it'll drive you nuts. Shakespeare said, "Sweet are the uses of adversity," and they are. Everything that we experience, it becomes a part of us, and being positive about everything we experience makes our overall life that much sweeter. Of course, that's easier said than done.
"I don't know, you know, I always think that if I could just accept the fact that my life was supposed to be difficult, you know, that's what to be expected, then I might not get so pissed-off about it and I'd just be glad when something nice happens."
- Jesse, Before Sunrise
I guess we just do the best we can and that's all there really is...
I dunno. I'm not really succeeding in the whole transposing thought/feeling to words deal tonight.
Haha. On that note, one last quote:
"I quote others only in order to better express myself."
- Michel de Montaigne
Monday, November 5, 2007
Think of all the people that you know or have heard of, who do stupid, obnoxious, insane things. You know the ones. The people who do stuff just so they have a good story to tell, so they seem more interesting.
Now strip them of their stunts, of all the crazy things they do. Count how many of them are actually incredibly dull people when you get down to the core.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Bottom line: you can pull as much stupid crap as you want, and you can make everyone, including yourself, think that this makes you interesting. But the more worthwhile people are the ones who are interesting without all the dressings. Substance over style, folks.
Now strip them of their stunts, of all the crazy things they do. Count how many of them are actually incredibly dull people when you get down to the core.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Bottom line: you can pull as much stupid crap as you want, and you can make everyone, including yourself, think that this makes you interesting. But the more worthwhile people are the ones who are interesting without all the dressings. Substance over style, folks.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
"Slow down, you crazy child, take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while..."
Everything in our world moves fast.
It forces us to move as fast, if not faster.
It's all about speed - you have to move quickly, just to keep up.
Fast is better, we learn: work fast, drive fast, learn fast, live fast.
Except that's wrong.
"I can't. I can't go on. It goes too fast. We don't have time to look at one another... Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you... Do any human beings realize life while they live it?-- every, every minute?"
Thornton Wilder wrote that in Our Town 70 years ago. And the world's gotten even faster since then.
Life goes by so fast as it is. Why do we want to go even more quickly through it?
How can we enjoy it when we go through at such a velocity, we barely perceive what's happening around us?
We're moving at millions of milles a moment in, out, around our surroundings.
How can we get anything out of it if we can't even slow down enough to see it?
We move slowly when we're little. Or rather, at our own paces.
Then school starts. Pre-school, pre-K, kindergarten.
Elementary school. Middle school. High school.
Push push push push push. Get through fast and efficiently. Do as much as you can in that small period of time so you can keep going.
College. Work work work. Gotta get a job then. Or go on to post-graduate studies. Either way, there'll be a lot of people to impress on the way. After all, you still have to meet a life partner.
Get a job. Get married. Have kids. Now you have a family, and you have to move through their lives at the speed of light, too. You can sleep when you're dead.
Oh wait. At the speed you're going, you're going to be dead by the time you're 50.
But that's what you get for trying to live successfully in such a fast-paced world.
And that's just for society's definition of success. These days, success isn't analogous to greatness. And it isn't analogous to happiness, either.
"At that moment, I knew that success, not greatness, was the only god the world served."
If we could only forget the drive to be successful in our high-speed world.
We'd move through life at a natural pace - at our own natural paces.
We could appreciate the great things about life instead of constantly being weighed down by the negatives.
We could live, and not just exist.
Paul Simon wrote that 40 years ago. He was right too.
----------------
Listening to: Billy Joel - Vienna [Live Unreleased Version]
It forces us to move as fast, if not faster.
It's all about speed - you have to move quickly, just to keep up.
Fast is better, we learn: work fast, drive fast, learn fast, live fast.
Except that's wrong.
"I can't. I can't go on. It goes too fast. We don't have time to look at one another... Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you... Do any human beings realize life while they live it?-- every, every minute?"
Thornton Wilder wrote that in Our Town 70 years ago. And the world's gotten even faster since then.
Life goes by so fast as it is. Why do we want to go even more quickly through it?
How can we enjoy it when we go through at such a velocity, we barely perceive what's happening around us?
We're moving at millions of milles a moment in, out, around our surroundings.
How can we get anything out of it if we can't even slow down enough to see it?
We move slowly when we're little. Or rather, at our own paces.
Then school starts. Pre-school, pre-K, kindergarten.
Elementary school. Middle school. High school.
Push push push push push. Get through fast and efficiently. Do as much as you can in that small period of time so you can keep going.
College. Work work work. Gotta get a job then. Or go on to post-graduate studies. Either way, there'll be a lot of people to impress on the way. After all, you still have to meet a life partner.
Get a job. Get married. Have kids. Now you have a family, and you have to move through their lives at the speed of light, too. You can sleep when you're dead.
Oh wait. At the speed you're going, you're going to be dead by the time you're 50.
But that's what you get for trying to live successfully in such a fast-paced world.
And that's just for society's definition of success. These days, success isn't analogous to greatness. And it isn't analogous to happiness, either.
"At that moment, I knew that success, not greatness, was the only god the world served."
If we could only forget the drive to be successful in our high-speed world.
We'd move through life at a natural pace - at our own natural paces.
We could appreciate the great things about life instead of constantly being weighed down by the negatives.
We could live, and not just exist.
"Slow down, you're movin' too fast -
You gotta to make the moment last.
Just kickin' down the cobblestones,
Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy...
I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep,
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you, all is groovy..."
You gotta to make the moment last.
Just kickin' down the cobblestones,
Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy...
I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep,
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you, all is groovy..."
Paul Simon wrote that 40 years ago. He was right too.
----------------
Listening to: Billy Joel - Vienna [Live Unreleased Version]
'Love is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time'
By Rob Sheffield, contributing editor at Rolling Stone magazine. It was a great book - when he was young, he married a girl he met at graduate school in the late '80s - "a real cool hell-raising Appalachian punk-rock girl" - nothing like himself, except in that they both loved music. He used the mix tapes he made as a boy and during his relationship with her to chronicle his life, his love for her, and what he went through when she suddenly passed away in the late '90s.
I loved it because it toyed with the idea of how our subconscious connects different things in our lives - like songs - to feelings or emotions we experience when we are involved with them. An object or a song or a movie or a book - none of these are merely things. They are all alive with the feelings or thoughts that we associate them with. Newsweek's movie reviewer David Ansen did something similar recently - he's been keeping a list of every movie he's ever seen since he was twelve, back in 1958 or so. He wrote an article that appeared in the magazine recently about how what he was watching at the time brings back memories for him of what he was thinking, how he was feeling at the time.
I thought a while ago about doing something similar myself - recording different associations like that. It's not just music - it's clothes, writing, smells, and so much more, too. It's both good and bad - it's comforting to have memories, but disconcerting in that it makes letting certain things go, incredibly difficult - to make myself break these associations. So many things have a history for me, and my past is never really gone - it's still with me in the little things I see and hear every day.
"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
- Maya Angelou
On some days, it feels like it'd be nice if the crazy machine in Eternal Sunshine was real, and certain memories and connections could be erased from our beings. Or, at least, if we could have the option of locking them up and forgetting about them temporarily. Not forever or even for a long time. To be liberated from them without having to work at it, just for a day. That'd be lovely...
----------------
Listening to: Fall Out Boy - Hum Hallelujah
I loved it because it toyed with the idea of how our subconscious connects different things in our lives - like songs - to feelings or emotions we experience when we are involved with them. An object or a song or a movie or a book - none of these are merely things. They are all alive with the feelings or thoughts that we associate them with. Newsweek's movie reviewer David Ansen did something similar recently - he's been keeping a list of every movie he's ever seen since he was twelve, back in 1958 or so. He wrote an article that appeared in the magazine recently about how what he was watching at the time brings back memories for him of what he was thinking, how he was feeling at the time.
I thought a while ago about doing something similar myself - recording different associations like that. It's not just music - it's clothes, writing, smells, and so much more, too. It's both good and bad - it's comforting to have memories, but disconcerting in that it makes letting certain things go, incredibly difficult - to make myself break these associations. So many things have a history for me, and my past is never really gone - it's still with me in the little things I see and hear every day.
"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
- Maya Angelou
On some days, it feels like it'd be nice if the crazy machine in Eternal Sunshine was real, and certain memories and connections could be erased from our beings. Or, at least, if we could have the option of locking them up and forgetting about them temporarily. Not forever or even for a long time. To be liberated from them without having to work at it, just for a day. That'd be lovely...
----------------
Listening to: Fall Out Boy - Hum Hallelujah
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Life's Simple Pleasures
So in Idea Development a couple weeks ago, I had to make a list of "activities that give you pleasure," on the basis that too many people feel that they can only write when they're depressed. After we made this list, we had to pick one item and write a story about it, or flesh out the experience or something. It reminded me of this one day I was at the grocery (argh, Monique always says that, I picked it up from her accidentally) with one of my suitemates, and she said how she feels that there are certain things when we're little kids that are really fun, and always just great, but we forget about them as we grow older, and how wonderful they are. I knew exactly what she meant - simple, little things that are just good. So I decided that since I was feeling so down the other night, I should make a list of awesome little things that are just good.
-- Blowing bubbles. (I took pictures of myself blowing bubbles at Island Heights the other day, for my digital photography class. It was the first time I'd done that in a while, and it was amazing.)
-- Staying up all night and watching the sun rise.
-- Milk and cookies, and an afternoon nap.
-- Cookies in general.
-- Naps in general. Planned naps, rather.
-- Coloring in coloring books. Or on place mats in restauarants.
-- Ice pops. Or ice cream from an ice cream truck.
-- Watching a movie you like that you haven't seen in a while.
-- Curling up on a cold day in a blanket with a mug of something steamy and a good book/movie/music.
-- "To dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free."
-- Fruit snacks.
-- Cartoons.
-- Cereal box and Cracker Jack prizes.
-- Dancing in the rain and puddle-stomping.
-- Getting mail.
-- Running through sprinklers.
-- Watching the sun set, letting dusk settle on you, and then watching the moon rise.
-- Driving with the windows down with fun music blasting, singing at the top of your lungs.
-- Swinging on swings. (In the moonlight, if you're Sark!)
-- Blanket forts. (More Sark.)
-- Fireworks.
-- The Sunday "funnies."
-- Hot baths.
-- Good hugs. Not limp ones or too-tight squeezes, but good hugs.
-- Homemade dessert. Really, homemade anything.
-- Throwing your slippers in the dryer for five minutes before putting them on. Ditto bath robe. Ditto anything, really.
-- Christmas morning.
-- Quote books.
-- Pillow fights.
-- Running into or hearing from an old friend you haven't talked to in a while.
-- Giving gifts for no reason.
-- Stickers.
-- Bike rides on nice days.
-- Receiving sincere compliments. Or giving them.
-- Finding loose change.
-- Taking silly pictures.
-- Stuffed animals.
-- Wearing something nice.
-- Driving around with no place to go.
-- Walking around with no place to go.
-- Buying candy at a candy store.
-- Winning a prize. Especially from one of those rigged boardwalk games.
-- Sitting around with friends doing nothing but being silent together.
-- Board games.
-- Teddy Grahams. And Goldfish crackers.
-- Cherry Coke. And Stewart's Orange 'n' Cream soda.
-- Chapstick.
-- Sitting in the middle of cul de sacs.
-- Dancing in the street.
-- Barnes & Noble. And the Book Bin.
That's all I have at the moment. I'm sure I'll think of more. I just don't have time right now. Later I will.
It's later. I thought of more. Haha.
-- Trampolines.
-- Sea glass and sea shells.
-- Stargazing.
-- Picnics.
-- Flowers in bloom. Especially dewy ones.
-- Surprise visits.
-- Cheering someone up.
-- Mix tapes. Well, mix CD's.
-- Hearing a song you like play on the radio.
-- Jumping on beds.
-- Travel sized anything.
-- Secret hidey-holes, niches, gardens.
-- Drinking something with a straw. And using the straw to blow bubbles in whatever you're drinking. Haha.
-- Cheap boardwalk prizes.
-- Skeeball.
-- Stupid dances.
-- Blowing bubbles. (I took pictures of myself blowing bubbles at Island Heights the other day, for my digital photography class. It was the first time I'd done that in a while, and it was amazing.)
-- Staying up all night and watching the sun rise.
-- Milk and cookies, and an afternoon nap.
-- Cookies in general.
-- Naps in general. Planned naps, rather.
-- Coloring in coloring books. Or on place mats in restauarants.
-- Ice pops. Or ice cream from an ice cream truck.
-- Watching a movie you like that you haven't seen in a while.
-- Curling up on a cold day in a blanket with a mug of something steamy and a good book/movie/music.
-- "To dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free."
-- Fruit snacks.
-- Cartoons.
-- Cereal box and Cracker Jack prizes.
-- Dancing in the rain and puddle-stomping.
-- Getting mail.
-- Running through sprinklers.
-- Watching the sun set, letting dusk settle on you, and then watching the moon rise.
-- Driving with the windows down with fun music blasting, singing at the top of your lungs.
-- Swinging on swings. (In the moonlight, if you're Sark!)
-- Blanket forts. (More Sark.)
-- Fireworks.
-- The Sunday "funnies."
-- Hot baths.
-- Good hugs. Not limp ones or too-tight squeezes, but good hugs.
-- Homemade dessert. Really, homemade anything.
-- Throwing your slippers in the dryer for five minutes before putting them on. Ditto bath robe. Ditto anything, really.
-- Christmas morning.
-- Quote books.
-- Pillow fights.
-- Running into or hearing from an old friend you haven't talked to in a while.
-- Giving gifts for no reason.
-- Stickers.
-- Bike rides on nice days.
-- Receiving sincere compliments. Or giving them.
-- Finding loose change.
-- Taking silly pictures.
-- Stuffed animals.
-- Wearing something nice.
-- Driving around with no place to go.
-- Walking around with no place to go.
-- Buying candy at a candy store.
-- Winning a prize. Especially from one of those rigged boardwalk games.
-- Sitting around with friends doing nothing but being silent together.
-- Board games.
-- Teddy Grahams. And Goldfish crackers.
-- Cherry Coke. And Stewart's Orange 'n' Cream soda.
-- Chapstick.
-- Sitting in the middle of cul de sacs.
-- Dancing in the street.
-- Barnes & Noble. And the Book Bin.
That's all I have at the moment. I'm sure I'll think of more. I just don't have time right now. Later I will.
It's later. I thought of more. Haha.
-- Trampolines.
-- Sea glass and sea shells.
-- Stargazing.
-- Picnics.
-- Flowers in bloom. Especially dewy ones.
-- Surprise visits.
-- Cheering someone up.
-- Mix tapes. Well, mix CD's.
-- Hearing a song you like play on the radio.
-- Jumping on beds.
-- Travel sized anything.
-- Secret hidey-holes, niches, gardens.
-- Drinking something with a straw. And using the straw to blow bubbles in whatever you're drinking. Haha.
-- Cheap boardwalk prizes.
-- Skeeball.
-- Stupid dances.
Monday, October 29, 2007
So this is actually pretty funny.
Today I felt overwhelmingly in touch with reality. Meaning, I was stuck in a stupidly pessimistic mood all day.
Seriously though, all I kept thinking today was, "Wow. Life sucks." And I didn't just mean my life, and I didn't just mean the way things are now. I mean The Way Things Are (Babe, right) in general. Being an adult holds absolutely no appeal to me today. Just being in general doesn't hold much appeal to me today. (No, I'm not suicidal, I swear. Just a little grouchy.) Anyway, I still blame registration.
In 7 hours, I have a class that I feel is a complete waste of my time. Immediately afterwards, I have an appointment with the convener of the Contemporary Arts contract major, which I'm a little nervous about. I was warned that unless I have a very legitimate reason to want to switch from Communications to Contemporary Arts, and none of the other Comm Arts concentrations will give me what I want, and I have a clear, distinct plan for what courses I want to take and what kind of focus I want, I'm not going to be allowed to switch. In which case I'd have to settle for switching to the Writing concentration in Comm Arts. There are fewer courses that I don't want to take in Writing than there are in Media/Cinema Studies. Except it'll stink if I have to do that, still, because then I'll lose the few Media/Cinema Studies courses I want, I still won't be able to take "Children's and Adolescent Literature" or "Photojournalism," and it'll just be lame. Not that it possibly won't be lame either way. But anyway. After that, at 2, I have Idea Development. Then I have to work on and upload my pictures for Digital Photography (self-portraits, all of which I hate) and then work 7-9:30. I have a midterm Wednesday that I need to cram for, too.
All in all, I can't shake the feeling that this all could just be a waste of time and money. I don't know what I want to do. I can't go to the Contemporary Arts convener and tell him that I want these specific classes because they'll help me in the field of work that I wish to enter, because I don't know what damn field that is. Writing for a newspaper? Criticizing for a magazine? Screenwriting? Photographer? Starving author? Museum curator? Librarian? Okay, maybe not a librarian. But really. I may end up doing something where I don't even need a damn degree. I haven't the slightest idea to what I should devote the rest of my life.
And then I thought about how scary that is, that uncertainty. And then I thought about how scary being an adult is, in general. Having a job/career. Having bills to pay, rent/mortgage to pay. Finding a place to live to begin with. Taking a leap of faith and getting married. Heck, forget marriage - finding someone you love enough to marry is huge - there are so many people out there, and the way we're becoming more and more conditioned to isolate ourselves, connecting with people isn't exactly easy. And then once you do get married, having kids and being fully responsible for them as well as yourself, and raising them. Being a good parent. It's all ridiculously, ludicrously frightening. Laughably, really. And why? Why do we toil through all that? It's painful as hell. So why. Why. What's the point.
I never really get like this. I guess I'm feeling morbid today.
I was talking to my suitemate the other day about how, in The View From Saturday, E. L. Konigsberg's various characters basically say that these are the 3 main reasons for the decline of Western civilization: 1) The kids of this generation know how to nit-pick, but not how to write a B&B letter. 2) The ballpoint pen - it's cheap, quick, and completely without character. 3) People don't take time to take tea at four o'clock. At that last one, Kay starts talking about how much more relaxed people are in other countries - the way the some cultures stop all work in the middle of the day for siestas, the way the English always have tea at four, etc. It really made me think of how we're so conditioned, in the United States, to move fast. We rush around, schedule ourselves so tightly that we haven't got any time for ourselves, let alone for a nap or tea every day at the same time. We always have a goal - there's always something better that we're trying to achieve, the grass is always greener - this is impressed upon us deeply from the time we are children. The society in which we live stipulates that we must work hard and push ourselves to the breaking point when we are in high school, in order to get into a "good" college. Once we get there, it's not just fun and games - we have to keep up our academic and athletic and artistic performances so we can get into graduate school; we have to be very "involved" so we can get placed in good internships. And we need to have good connections - in an increasingly competitive job market (since there are more and more people qualified for professional jobs with the increase in college attendance), it's all about who you know, right? The internships and good grades are supposed to help us get good jobs. Once we have said jobs, we are constantly trying to improve our status at work. Get a raise or a promotion. Make more money. All that jazz. You end up barely having enough time to breathe. A career is not your life, it's how you make a living so you can have a life. Except these days, it turns into your life.
One of the only things I liked about the movie The Last Kiss was something Rachel Bilson said, which is strange because I hated her character most of all:
Kim: Having a crisis are we?
Michael: Do I look like I'm having a crisis?
Kim: Everyone I know is having a crisis. I know you're not supposed to get them until midlife but I think something's happening to our metabolism
Michael: Our metabolism?
Kim: [nods] Yeah, I mean the world is moving so fast now, we are all chasing something so fast that we start freaking out long before our parents did. Feel my heart.
[puts his hand in her chest]
Kim: Feel how fast it is?
Michael:...that's a fast heart.
Kim: ‘Cause we don't ever stop to breathe anymore...
[takes his hand off her chest]
Kim: You gotta remember to breathe or you'll die.
I can't imagine life post-college. I really can't imagine being done with school. Okay, so if I go to grad school, then it'll still be a while. But I can't picture what my life will be like when I'm done with school. I think some people become teachers just because they don't want to have to know what their lives would be like outside of school. Ugh. I don't want to teach. In theory it sounds great - helping people learn, enlightening them, being a part of their lives for a while - in practice, not so much. Unless it's either a private school or a good college or university or something. Even then, not so great these days.
Bleh. I better snap out of this soon. I really have to get my act together and start focusing on my classes more. I need motivation again. I keep losing it. Bleh.
"We don't have much room...
We all need a little more room to live."
----------------
Listening to: Something Corporate - Konstantine
Seriously though, all I kept thinking today was, "Wow. Life sucks." And I didn't just mean my life, and I didn't just mean the way things are now. I mean The Way Things Are (Babe, right) in general. Being an adult holds absolutely no appeal to me today. Just being in general doesn't hold much appeal to me today. (No, I'm not suicidal, I swear. Just a little grouchy.) Anyway, I still blame registration.
In 7 hours, I have a class that I feel is a complete waste of my time. Immediately afterwards, I have an appointment with the convener of the Contemporary Arts contract major, which I'm a little nervous about. I was warned that unless I have a very legitimate reason to want to switch from Communications to Contemporary Arts, and none of the other Comm Arts concentrations will give me what I want, and I have a clear, distinct plan for what courses I want to take and what kind of focus I want, I'm not going to be allowed to switch. In which case I'd have to settle for switching to the Writing concentration in Comm Arts. There are fewer courses that I don't want to take in Writing than there are in Media/Cinema Studies. Except it'll stink if I have to do that, still, because then I'll lose the few Media/Cinema Studies courses I want, I still won't be able to take "Children's and Adolescent Literature" or "Photojournalism," and it'll just be lame. Not that it possibly won't be lame either way. But anyway. After that, at 2, I have Idea Development. Then I have to work on and upload my pictures for Digital Photography (self-portraits, all of which I hate) and then work 7-9:30. I have a midterm Wednesday that I need to cram for, too.
All in all, I can't shake the feeling that this all could just be a waste of time and money. I don't know what I want to do. I can't go to the Contemporary Arts convener and tell him that I want these specific classes because they'll help me in the field of work that I wish to enter, because I don't know what damn field that is. Writing for a newspaper? Criticizing for a magazine? Screenwriting? Photographer? Starving author? Museum curator? Librarian? Okay, maybe not a librarian. But really. I may end up doing something where I don't even need a damn degree. I haven't the slightest idea to what I should devote the rest of my life.
And then I thought about how scary that is, that uncertainty. And then I thought about how scary being an adult is, in general. Having a job/career. Having bills to pay, rent/mortgage to pay. Finding a place to live to begin with. Taking a leap of faith and getting married. Heck, forget marriage - finding someone you love enough to marry is huge - there are so many people out there, and the way we're becoming more and more conditioned to isolate ourselves, connecting with people isn't exactly easy. And then once you do get married, having kids and being fully responsible for them as well as yourself, and raising them. Being a good parent. It's all ridiculously, ludicrously frightening. Laughably, really. And why? Why do we toil through all that? It's painful as hell. So why. Why. What's the point.
I never really get like this. I guess I'm feeling morbid today.
I was talking to my suitemate the other day about how, in The View From Saturday, E. L. Konigsberg's various characters basically say that these are the 3 main reasons for the decline of Western civilization: 1) The kids of this generation know how to nit-pick, but not how to write a B&B letter. 2) The ballpoint pen - it's cheap, quick, and completely without character. 3) People don't take time to take tea at four o'clock. At that last one, Kay starts talking about how much more relaxed people are in other countries - the way the some cultures stop all work in the middle of the day for siestas, the way the English always have tea at four, etc. It really made me think of how we're so conditioned, in the United States, to move fast. We rush around, schedule ourselves so tightly that we haven't got any time for ourselves, let alone for a nap or tea every day at the same time. We always have a goal - there's always something better that we're trying to achieve, the grass is always greener - this is impressed upon us deeply from the time we are children. The society in which we live stipulates that we must work hard and push ourselves to the breaking point when we are in high school, in order to get into a "good" college. Once we get there, it's not just fun and games - we have to keep up our academic and athletic and artistic performances so we can get into graduate school; we have to be very "involved" so we can get placed in good internships. And we need to have good connections - in an increasingly competitive job market (since there are more and more people qualified for professional jobs with the increase in college attendance), it's all about who you know, right? The internships and good grades are supposed to help us get good jobs. Once we have said jobs, we are constantly trying to improve our status at work. Get a raise or a promotion. Make more money. All that jazz. You end up barely having enough time to breathe. A career is not your life, it's how you make a living so you can have a life. Except these days, it turns into your life.
One of the only things I liked about the movie The Last Kiss was something Rachel Bilson said, which is strange because I hated her character most of all:
Kim: Having a crisis are we?
Michael: Do I look like I'm having a crisis?
Kim: Everyone I know is having a crisis. I know you're not supposed to get them until midlife but I think something's happening to our metabolism
Michael: Our metabolism?
Kim: [nods] Yeah, I mean the world is moving so fast now, we are all chasing something so fast that we start freaking out long before our parents did. Feel my heart.
[puts his hand in her chest]
Kim: Feel how fast it is?
Michael:...that's a fast heart.
Kim: ‘Cause we don't ever stop to breathe anymore...
[takes his hand off her chest]
Kim: You gotta remember to breathe or you'll die.
I can't imagine life post-college. I really can't imagine being done with school. Okay, so if I go to grad school, then it'll still be a while. But I can't picture what my life will be like when I'm done with school. I think some people become teachers just because they don't want to have to know what their lives would be like outside of school. Ugh. I don't want to teach. In theory it sounds great - helping people learn, enlightening them, being a part of their lives for a while - in practice, not so much. Unless it's either a private school or a good college or university or something. Even then, not so great these days.
Bleh. I better snap out of this soon. I really have to get my act together and start focusing on my classes more. I need motivation again. I keep losing it. Bleh.
"We don't have much room...
We all need a little more room to live."
----------------
Listening to: Something Corporate - Konstantine
Friday, October 26, 2007
"I Will Show You Love"
Just some pretty lyrics.
I will show you love
Like you’ve never loved before.
I will go the distance
And back for more
If you just say the word.
You will come alive again
And call the trying times your friend.
The pain that you have suffered through
Will never get the best of you.
You will hope in something real
That won’t depend on how you feel.
When you call my name,
Then I will answer, answer.
I am on your side,
Though the wind and waves
Beat against your faith.
You were on my mind
When the world was made.
Trust in me my child,
Trust in me my child.
Walk out on the water
Where you have no control -
So scared to death of failure
You sacrifice your soul.
Please let that go.
You have climbed an uphill road;
You have worn a heavy load.
You have cried through endless nights
And nearly given up the fight,
Watched your dreams like falling stars.
The heartaches made you who you are.
Now looking back you see
That I have always been there.
Where you gonna hide?
Where you gonna hide from Me?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go that I can’t see?
I have heard you cry,
And it breaks my heart
For I love you so.
I would never lie.
This is not the end.
There is still a hope.
I am on your side,
Though the wind and waves
Beat against your faith.
You were on my mind
When the world was made.
Trust in me my child,
Trust in me my child.
Though the wind and waves
Beat against your faith.
You were on my mind
When the world was made.
Trust in me my child,
Trust in me my child.
Kendall Payne
Thursday, October 25, 2007
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."
- Leo Buscaglia
I had something to say about this, but I don't recall what it was.
I'll have to get back to it later. Too busy now.
----------------
Listening to: Bruce Springsteen - Livin' In The Future
- Leo Buscaglia
I had something to say about this, but I don't recall what it was.
I'll have to get back to it later. Too busy now.
----------------
Listening to: Bruce Springsteen - Livin' In The Future
Monday, October 22, 2007
I found a poem.
I can't get the spacing to look properly for all of it, so pretend.
Well here we go again
Forward, backwards, stuck in neutral
Feelings, indifference, apathy
Is a heartless beast
Of burden weighing heavily
Are possibilities, promises
To keep and be broken
Dreams of the future
Forays into idealism, hopefully
Bringing opportunity, chance
To begin to live life,
To stop merely existing,
To find passion
Balance
Walking across the beam of in between
Unsure, indecisive, reaching, jumping
F
A
L
L
I
N
G
Head first into God knows what
Have I gotten myself into now
Nothing is the same
Interest is dead
Mutated into careless, undriven work
Passion has fled
Jumped into the winds of days gone by
And where does that leave me?
Wishing myself far far away
Wishing the next ten years
Were a thing of the past, a memory
Preciously lived and learned and productive
But done, over, moved on to days of black and white and
C | D | L
L | I | I
E | V | N
A | I | E
R | D | S
| E |
| D |
(that we all know don’t exist)
No reading in between,
No fog hanging in my mind,
Clouding my vision
My view of who I am
what I want
where I want to be
what I need to do
W h y a m I h e r e ?
And where do I go from here?
Things can only go up,
P
But what goes U
Must come
D
O
W
N
So here I am again.
Stuck in neutral.
It's from about a year ago. I was in sorry shape then. I'm fine now, but I can feel myself getting more and more frustrated, restless, and weary again. I blame spring course registration and summer internship applications...or rather, the ideas of them and their impeding deadlines. I hate having to choose courses to pursue a degree that might not even help me get where I want to be, anyway; I hate being pressured to choose a career - the whole idea of a single career isn't very appealing to me to begin with; I hate the idea of applying for internships and graduate school - it's like applying for college, having to prove myself all over again; and I hate the idea of spending the rest of my life being judged and critiqued about everything, being forced to submit my work to other people who are "better" than me so they can tell me if it's good enough. Screw this whole being an adult thing. Just let me do what makes me happy as I discover what it really is. That might be a selfish, useless, complete waste of time for some people, but my desire to help others and make them happy and share and enlighten is far too great for me to be in danger of Hedonistically throwing my life away on myself. And if that's what I end up doing, then I'm the only one responsible, I'm the only one who has to live with that, so whatever.
Haha. Watch. 10 years from now I'll have a graduate degree, a cushy hypocritical job that I love (writing for some kind of periodical owned by a mainstream media conglomerate), stable relationships and finances, a house or apartment (complete with mortage!) and a whole life-plan. Either that or I'll have a stupid number of useless degrees, be stuck with an obnoxious job that I hate and could possibly lose at any moment anyway, and I'll be shiftlessly roaming around the country by myself, writing my "great American novel" (which I'll constantly be changing the topic and direction of, and it'll never get finished. Ever.) with barely enough money to get myself drunk with. Hahahahaha. Oh man. Just imagine. I'm going to be crashing on everyone else's couches...you've been warned...so just let me wallow there for a while and then pull a Boy Meets World and make me leave the couch and soggy Cocoa Puffs, grab a newspaper, and go job-hunting in my bathrobe when it's dark out. If I try telling you I'm going to have my own television show as the "Good Lookin' Girl" or something, laugh and kick me out. Thanks, in advance. You're real pals.
----------------
Listening to: Paul Simon - Once Upon A Time There Was An Ocean
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