Half-finished projects lie in haphazard heaps around me. I remember reading some sort of horoscope or introspection to my character at some point, years ago, that happened to hit the nail on the head when it proposed that every project or creative outlet was a 'silver lure', and that I tend to flit from one to the other like an overindulged fish.
On nights like this I can't seem to sit still. I have time (in theory) to do whatever I wish, and I feel a creative itch inching its way up my spine. I want to draw, or maybe read a good book, or a comic, anything I can apply my life to while simultaneously escaping from it. (This is, I suspect, the main reason role-play holds such a fascination for me.) But I settle on nothing. I spread beads and hemp around me and make half a necklace before turning my attention again to the internet, browsing through my bookmarks for what has to be the tenth time today, hoping something new will appear and teach me something.
Facebook is a wonderful source of information for the information-starved, and I find myself looking through some photos. Pictures of faces I don't know, faces that I'll never see again, and faces I know so well it's surprising to realize I haven't seen them recently-- months, even.
I forget a lot of things. Ask anyone. It's a trademark, really. No matter how carefully I pack or plan or double check, I always manage to forget some vital object or piece of information. I've left my present for a friend's birthday at my house, forgotten the power cord for my computer in the transition from college to home, and sometimes I look at things around me and wonder if I've forgotten parts of myself-- parts of my past. If you want to be nice, you could say I live in the present, enjoying life as it comes, and not dwelling on what came before. But if you want to perhaps be more truthful, you could say I'm fickle, air-headed, a finger in each pot of paint, so to speak.
It's so strange-- I've known someone for years and years and memorized their face, then in a matter of a few months I feel like I've forgotten it and am just now remembering what it looks like. Memories of years past flood in. I've been so busy and distracted chasing other lures in life and I'm just coming back to this one.
As I was walking back from class today I thought about who and where I was a year ago, and how much has changed. The friends who have come, and the ones who've gone. Relationships I've built or let be ground away by the heels of time. Things I've done, things I've regretted, reasons I've cried, reasons I've laughed until I cried. I've never kept a journal, but things like this make me wish I had. I was looking through pictures someone I vaguely know had uploaded, pictures of her and her friend that I vaguely know that died less than a month ago. Pictures of normal moments among friends, and I found myself staring at the girl's face with the realization that she is simply gone, and will never smile for a photo with her friends anymore.
It seems a recurring theme in conversations and my thoughts recently: time does not rule us. Our choices are ours alone, opportunities ours to take. Every moment is one we don't get back, it cannot be repeated, it is there and then gone.
I have a song on a playlist of mine to remind me of this:
"We are not infinite
We are not permanent
Nothing is immediate"
It's a good lesson to remember.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Circumstantial Paradox
So here I sit, at 1:30am on a Monday, with lesson plans and units and papers staring at me, with a full day of classes and work tomorrow leering in the background, and despite the two 20 oz bottles of Diet Pepsi I bought earlier to help me focus, my mind keeps wandering back to certain moments, certain topics of discussion that don't belong in a classroom. Mainly, what a strange paradox my life has become recently.
For about a year I've sworn off men, as far as boyfriends are concerned. My luck hasn't been great with them in the past, though not for lack of supply or interest; I just seemed to attract the needy, insecure ones again and again. Okay, so maybe only two were like that, but the fact remains that the outlook was grim. Of everyone I knew at my tiny college of 2,000 students, none of them really struck my interest in a datable fashion. After a disaster of an attempt at dating someone from the internet (the World of Warcraft game to be specific), I decided that I was done looking for love of any sort. I didn't need a boyfriend, I told myself. I had friends and school to keep me occupied enough, and I've always been naturally independent and content with amusing myself. I didn't need some boy to come in and demand all of my attention and time, as my previous boyfriends had been wont to do. A "Bumper Sticker" I added on facebook summed it up for me, proclaiming: "I'm single, with no intentions of looking for a guy; this time I'm letting him find me."
Who would have thought that such words would be so apt, because find me he did. Turns out he was under my nose all along, someone I had had multiple classes with, who slowly became a part of my life. We became even closer when my friend, Anne (name changed for sake of privacy), convinced me to join the tabletop role-playing group he'd started on campus.
I can't explain why, exactly, it didn't occour to me to date him sooner. Part of the reason may have been because Anne had eyes for him as well, but it was probably mostly that "I'm not looking for a boyfriend" mentality. He'd liked me since he met me in Tennis class, of all places-- when I hardly looked my best, unshowered with my hair unceremoniously thrown up in a ponytail, cursing loudly as the ball escaped the wrath of my tennis racket. I'd had no idea-- or at least I wouldn't admit it to myself.
To change gears a bit in this ramble, I want to talk about my friend, Anne. My best friend, I should say, as we've been so since 8th grade (about 7 years now). Seven years, through some of the most defining years of your life, is a long time to be friends. Looking back, it's obvious how friends have shaped who I am today-- whether by encouraging me to grow, or by holding me back. I feel now that Anne has done a bit of both, though which she's done more of I couldn't say.
There's a saying, "you can't find the woods if you're hiding in the trees". I feel it applies to my situation with Anne. Earlier this year, around January, she headed off to Japan for an entire semester through our college's exchange program. At first I told her adamently that I didn't know what I was going to do when she was gone. We've been practically attatched at the hip for seven years! But as the deadline for her departure drew closer, I found that those words began to lack truth. I guess I got used to the idea. She left, and now in April I've found that I've grown even more self-sufficient, motivated, and responsible. I enjoy the time I spend with my 'other' friends, which includes my sorority which Anne didn't join-- a fact at first something of a burden, and now mostly a relief.
This isn't to say that she went off to Japan and I completely abandoned her. I called her, left comments on her facebook and blog, chatted with her on AIM when possible. But recently we managed to get in a rather large arguement, whose inital cause, as per usual for such things, was something rather trivial that only served as a spark for all the fuel lurking beneath the surface. Understand that this was not the first of our arguements; we've had several, particularly within the past year or so. I've felt and still feel that every time I apologized, I sought out a sane discussion, and I took at least some of the blame. This time I felt that I had done nothing wrong; I wouldn't grovel and fall back on the "lets forget about it" option. She essentially ended the whole thing by saying "I'll see you in two months". Well, she's the one that said it, not me.
Interestingly enough, this was right after I started dating the guy I was talking about earlier. The one she'd dated, and then broke up with. It was never right between them, and she'd told me so numerous times (to this day there's no hard feelings between them), but still she managed to feel "dissapointed" when I mentioned I wanted to ask him out. "Just as someone who dated him before", she told me. This was only a week or so before our fallout, and it confused and irritated me just as much then as it does now. Dissapointed?! Who is she to say such a thing; she's not my mother. She's supposedly my friend. She has every right to feel however she wishes, but-- and this is part of the problem with the larger arguement-- she doesn't need to inform me of it. There are some things as friends that you do to spare each other, and that should have been one of them.
But let her be dissapointed. This man has made me happier than I've ever felt; he's like my best friend, now. I would say he is, since my last effectively dumped me. Just spending time with him is a joy, and I find myself missing him almost constantly when we're not together. I don't think I've missed Anne since the first few weeks she was gone.
In reflection, I suppose I can at the most conclude what has been said numerous times; lessons such as how we blind ourselves when we don't keep our minds open to new possibilities, that distance allows us to see things more clearly, and perhaps most importantly, that when one door is closed, a window opens.
I have no doubt that Anne and I will renew our friendship on her return, but I don't think it can ever be the same. Part of me is closed off from her at the moment, perhaps forever. There's a fair amount of history there, not all of it good. And if she still holds "dissapointment" in me for dating her ex, there will only be trouble, since I plan on spending as much time with him as possible.
Only time will tell, but for now, the ball's in her court.
For about a year I've sworn off men, as far as boyfriends are concerned. My luck hasn't been great with them in the past, though not for lack of supply or interest; I just seemed to attract the needy, insecure ones again and again. Okay, so maybe only two were like that, but the fact remains that the outlook was grim. Of everyone I knew at my tiny college of 2,000 students, none of them really struck my interest in a datable fashion. After a disaster of an attempt at dating someone from the internet (the World of Warcraft game to be specific), I decided that I was done looking for love of any sort. I didn't need a boyfriend, I told myself. I had friends and school to keep me occupied enough, and I've always been naturally independent and content with amusing myself. I didn't need some boy to come in and demand all of my attention and time, as my previous boyfriends had been wont to do. A "Bumper Sticker" I added on facebook summed it up for me, proclaiming: "I'm single, with no intentions of looking for a guy; this time I'm letting him find me."
Who would have thought that such words would be so apt, because find me he did. Turns out he was under my nose all along, someone I had had multiple classes with, who slowly became a part of my life. We became even closer when my friend, Anne (name changed for sake of privacy), convinced me to join the tabletop role-playing group he'd started on campus.
I can't explain why, exactly, it didn't occour to me to date him sooner. Part of the reason may have been because Anne had eyes for him as well, but it was probably mostly that "I'm not looking for a boyfriend" mentality. He'd liked me since he met me in Tennis class, of all places-- when I hardly looked my best, unshowered with my hair unceremoniously thrown up in a ponytail, cursing loudly as the ball escaped the wrath of my tennis racket. I'd had no idea-- or at least I wouldn't admit it to myself.
To change gears a bit in this ramble, I want to talk about my friend, Anne. My best friend, I should say, as we've been so since 8th grade (about 7 years now). Seven years, through some of the most defining years of your life, is a long time to be friends. Looking back, it's obvious how friends have shaped who I am today-- whether by encouraging me to grow, or by holding me back. I feel now that Anne has done a bit of both, though which she's done more of I couldn't say.
There's a saying, "you can't find the woods if you're hiding in the trees". I feel it applies to my situation with Anne. Earlier this year, around January, she headed off to Japan for an entire semester through our college's exchange program. At first I told her adamently that I didn't know what I was going to do when she was gone. We've been practically attatched at the hip for seven years! But as the deadline for her departure drew closer, I found that those words began to lack truth. I guess I got used to the idea. She left, and now in April I've found that I've grown even more self-sufficient, motivated, and responsible. I enjoy the time I spend with my 'other' friends, which includes my sorority which Anne didn't join-- a fact at first something of a burden, and now mostly a relief.
This isn't to say that she went off to Japan and I completely abandoned her. I called her, left comments on her facebook and blog, chatted with her on AIM when possible. But recently we managed to get in a rather large arguement, whose inital cause, as per usual for such things, was something rather trivial that only served as a spark for all the fuel lurking beneath the surface. Understand that this was not the first of our arguements; we've had several, particularly within the past year or so. I've felt and still feel that every time I apologized, I sought out a sane discussion, and I took at least some of the blame. This time I felt that I had done nothing wrong; I wouldn't grovel and fall back on the "lets forget about it" option. She essentially ended the whole thing by saying "I'll see you in two months". Well, she's the one that said it, not me.
Interestingly enough, this was right after I started dating the guy I was talking about earlier. The one she'd dated, and then broke up with. It was never right between them, and she'd told me so numerous times (to this day there's no hard feelings between them), but still she managed to feel "dissapointed" when I mentioned I wanted to ask him out. "Just as someone who dated him before", she told me. This was only a week or so before our fallout, and it confused and irritated me just as much then as it does now. Dissapointed?! Who is she to say such a thing; she's not my mother. She's supposedly my friend. She has every right to feel however she wishes, but-- and this is part of the problem with the larger arguement-- she doesn't need to inform me of it. There are some things as friends that you do to spare each other, and that should have been one of them.
But let her be dissapointed. This man has made me happier than I've ever felt; he's like my best friend, now. I would say he is, since my last effectively dumped me. Just spending time with him is a joy, and I find myself missing him almost constantly when we're not together. I don't think I've missed Anne since the first few weeks she was gone.
In reflection, I suppose I can at the most conclude what has been said numerous times; lessons such as how we blind ourselves when we don't keep our minds open to new possibilities, that distance allows us to see things more clearly, and perhaps most importantly, that when one door is closed, a window opens.
I have no doubt that Anne and I will renew our friendship on her return, but I don't think it can ever be the same. Part of me is closed off from her at the moment, perhaps forever. There's a fair amount of history there, not all of it good. And if she still holds "dissapointment" in me for dating her ex, there will only be trouble, since I plan on spending as much time with him as possible.
Only time will tell, but for now, the ball's in her court.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Jimbo: The Adventure
Cleaning. It's something we all have to do at one point or another. If you live in a house with 7 other girls, it's something that you have to do a lot... particularly because most of those girls don't. It's easy to ignore chores when there's so many other things to do such as hanging with friends or getting homework done or going to class.
On top of the general lack of motivation to clean, there's Rush. Formal Recruitment. The week where we have to put on our best and worry ourselves to death over who may be joining our sorority. During this week the house, for lack of a better term, exploded. Decorations and food were stored haphazardly, traded out every other night... and the basement became even more of an unorganized, grungy storage area than anything. It was almost impossible to walk through the basement to get to the washer and dryer to do laundry!
But Rush is over now-- it has been for about two weeks. Tonight I got back from dinner and continued doing my laundry, and in trying to traverse the narrow, dirty walkway to get to the washer and dryer, I decided I was sick of it. The whole place was filthy, and while there was no way I was going to clean all of it, I thought I could at least pick up bits of trash floating around. In the process I moved some of the boxes around down there, making the ally wider. There was dirt and some dead leaves from the fall down there (there's a door up one of the two sets of stairs that go down to the basement; it exits out the side of the house and is convenient for trash). It was ridiculous, honestly, and I was tired of stepping over it all.
So I went back upstairs to get a dustpan and a broom, and what is waiting for me down there, in plain sight, but what I would later learn is a camel cricket.
This picture actually shows an adult of the species, where the one I found was in fact a nymph-- its body wasn't as big. It was still pretty large, though-- at least the size of a silver dollar in circumference (with the legs). At first I thought it was a huge spider, but I noted it had six legs, not eight. The two 'jumpy' legs in the back lead my mind to a cricket, though I'd never seen one of these things before.
Now, I was the only one at the house at the time-- that happens around 6pm on a Saturday. So after staring at it for a few moments, and seeing that it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I hurried back upstairs and grabbed a plastic cup and a sheet of paper. Much prodding later, I had the cricket, who I decided to call Jimbo, safe and secure in the cup. He seemed a bit disgruntled, and I imagine rather confused, but overall he seemed harmless. Just really big. And... spindley.
After toying with the idea of keeping Jimbo for display to my sorority sisters later (that would teach them to clean-- but the picture above will suffice), I decided to just take him outside and toss him into the grass-- except there's no grass outside at the moment, simply snow. So I walked (in a t-shirt and socks) out to the nearest tree and tossed him into the snow there. It was kind of dark, but last I saw he hadn't moved, probably trying to deal with the harsh temperature.
Such is the tragedy of Jimbo-- I do hope he found a warm place to reside. I just hope it wasn't our basement.
On top of the general lack of motivation to clean, there's Rush. Formal Recruitment. The week where we have to put on our best and worry ourselves to death over who may be joining our sorority. During this week the house, for lack of a better term, exploded. Decorations and food were stored haphazardly, traded out every other night... and the basement became even more of an unorganized, grungy storage area than anything. It was almost impossible to walk through the basement to get to the washer and dryer to do laundry!
But Rush is over now-- it has been for about two weeks. Tonight I got back from dinner and continued doing my laundry, and in trying to traverse the narrow, dirty walkway to get to the washer and dryer, I decided I was sick of it. The whole place was filthy, and while there was no way I was going to clean all of it, I thought I could at least pick up bits of trash floating around. In the process I moved some of the boxes around down there, making the ally wider. There was dirt and some dead leaves from the fall down there (there's a door up one of the two sets of stairs that go down to the basement; it exits out the side of the house and is convenient for trash). It was ridiculous, honestly, and I was tired of stepping over it all.
So I went back upstairs to get a dustpan and a broom, and what is waiting for me down there, in plain sight, but what I would later learn is a camel cricket.
This picture actually shows an adult of the species, where the one I found was in fact a nymph-- its body wasn't as big. It was still pretty large, though-- at least the size of a silver dollar in circumference (with the legs). At first I thought it was a huge spider, but I noted it had six legs, not eight. The two 'jumpy' legs in the back lead my mind to a cricket, though I'd never seen one of these things before.
Now, I was the only one at the house at the time-- that happens around 6pm on a Saturday. So after staring at it for a few moments, and seeing that it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I hurried back upstairs and grabbed a plastic cup and a sheet of paper. Much prodding later, I had the cricket, who I decided to call Jimbo, safe and secure in the cup. He seemed a bit disgruntled, and I imagine rather confused, but overall he seemed harmless. Just really big. And... spindley.
After toying with the idea of keeping Jimbo for display to my sorority sisters later (that would teach them to clean-- but the picture above will suffice), I decided to just take him outside and toss him into the grass-- except there's no grass outside at the moment, simply snow. So I walked (in a t-shirt and socks) out to the nearest tree and tossed him into the snow there. It was kind of dark, but last I saw he hadn't moved, probably trying to deal with the harsh temperature.
Such is the tragedy of Jimbo-- I do hope he found a warm place to reside. I just hope it wasn't our basement.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Excuse me while I go insane outside of my head; everything inside is as normal as ever
Paradox #1: Often thoughtful, introspective, and educated, but at times still naive.
Yeah pretty much. (The more I know about the world the less I know)
NO this post will not make sense (it will make perfect sense)
I'm standing in a very white room with blood splattered all over the walls and I can't remember why, except that it was wrong-- and every time I look at the clock it's further ahead then where it should be, things are slipping by so fast. It's like I'm sitting in a lecture and the professor is speaking too quickly for my mind to even comprehend what he's saying, because I grasp at the edges of words and fail to understand the sentence and the paragraph.
I don't really know how to describe anything except that I feel bad for everyone, because we're trapped inside our heads trying to make sense of this world that is far too vast and dark. We're alone and it is so unsafe to reach out to anyone or anything because they make even less sense than anything else. We judge each other by the rules we've made up inside our own heads so everything is a misunderstanding. Everyone else must be wrong-- everyone else must be evil.
(I keep typing things and when I read them again they're different than when I typed them...)
For years and years I've acted as a mediator between friends, trying to wade through all of the lies each party makes (not because they mean to lie but because we all change reality to save ourselves from being shredded on its teeth) and find out what really happened, but fuck, really, what's the point. I'm so tired of it. I have all of these expectations for people and they always just seem to crumble down around me. I'm just going to sit back and put on some headphones and convince myself that everyone truly is good inside, and that I'm going to be honest with people this time...
(and this has all happened before)
I keep resorting back to people that don't exist outside my head. (I sometimes think they're better friends than anyone oustside of my head. I'm holding out for someone I can touch but so far I've been disappointed.) Characters, I call them. They're actually just methods I use to cope with things. But they have, you know, personalities and stuff (that sounds way less crazy right? Wait why do I care what it sounds like?). At this point one would be sliding his arm around my shoulder and reiterating that, everything changes, nothing changes. People don't change, people can change. (He's right, I say. Well, he should know-- he's been around for a long time). And Rask is like, bank accounts? Overdrawn? Feck that, I'll loan you some gold...
(And Mace is the one in the room with the bloody walls-- he's messed up again and he knows that all too well)
But things will work out, right? In the end? This isn't actually a big deal anyway...
Yeah pretty much. (The more I know about the world the less I know)
NO this post will not make sense (it will make perfect sense)
I'm standing in a very white room with blood splattered all over the walls and I can't remember why, except that it was wrong-- and every time I look at the clock it's further ahead then where it should be, things are slipping by so fast. It's like I'm sitting in a lecture and the professor is speaking too quickly for my mind to even comprehend what he's saying, because I grasp at the edges of words and fail to understand the sentence and the paragraph.
I don't really know how to describe anything except that I feel bad for everyone, because we're trapped inside our heads trying to make sense of this world that is far too vast and dark. We're alone and it is so unsafe to reach out to anyone or anything because they make even less sense than anything else. We judge each other by the rules we've made up inside our own heads so everything is a misunderstanding. Everyone else must be wrong-- everyone else must be evil.
(I keep typing things and when I read them again they're different than when I typed them...)
For years and years I've acted as a mediator between friends, trying to wade through all of the lies each party makes (not because they mean to lie but because we all change reality to save ourselves from being shredded on its teeth) and find out what really happened, but fuck, really, what's the point. I'm so tired of it. I have all of these expectations for people and they always just seem to crumble down around me. I'm just going to sit back and put on some headphones and convince myself that everyone truly is good inside, and that I'm going to be honest with people this time...
(and this has all happened before)
I keep resorting back to people that don't exist outside my head. (I sometimes think they're better friends than anyone oustside of my head. I'm holding out for someone I can touch but so far I've been disappointed.) Characters, I call them. They're actually just methods I use to cope with things. But they have, you know, personalities and stuff (that sounds way less crazy right? Wait why do I care what it sounds like?). At this point one would be sliding his arm around my shoulder and reiterating that, everything changes, nothing changes. People don't change, people can change. (He's right, I say. Well, he should know-- he's been around for a long time). And Rask is like, bank accounts? Overdrawn? Feck that, I'll loan you some gold...
(And Mace is the one in the room with the bloody walls-- he's messed up again and he knows that all too well)
But things will work out, right? In the end? This isn't actually a big deal anyway...
It's Kind of Pretty Outside
Today marks the first snow day of the year for my college, and the second I've ever experienced in my three years here. (It takes at -least- a level three snow emergency for them to cancel classes, and even then I imagine the administrators do so begrudgingly.)
There's at least three inches of snow outside, and last I looked it was still coming down. There are icicles hanging from the roofs of the houses, and the tree branches and power-lines are heaped with a fine dusting of snow. I should be out taking pictures with the digital camera I received for Christmas, but... well, it's cold out! And my boots are still all muddy... so I suppose I'll just sit inside instead and play WoW or make a blog for no apparent reason.
Do you ever wonder why people talk to you? Not in the general sense, but mostly people you don't really want to talk to, particularly about the details of their personal lives? This happens to me a lot. I guess I'm a pretty nice person, and patient, and people see that as an indication that I want to wade through their walls of text (on AIM) or sit and appear to be interested (in person) and give feedback on whatever personal issues they may be having, and possibly even offer advice or like, encouragement. Because obviously this is my preferred way to utilize my free time.
I'm talking about people I vaugely know; you know, the people that you've talked to once or twice, met around campus, friend of a friend kind of deal. That, or people who I've had fights with in the past, who I've gradually broken off contact with. If you are a person like this, here's some advice. One word, non-committal answers (i.e., "yeah", "really", "I see") mean that the person is too polite to tell you to shove it, but really hopes you get the hint and stop bothering them. No answers at all mean much the same; yes, there's a possibility that they're absent from their computer and had no time to tell you as such, but there's an even greater possibility that they're completely ignoring your posts in the hope that you'll talk yourself out and leave them be; particularly if you happen to be whining about your life.
I like to think I'm an open-minded, thoughtful, kind, and patient person. Please don't make me re-evaluate my personal traits by bothering me so much I want to club you across the face.
There's at least three inches of snow outside, and last I looked it was still coming down. There are icicles hanging from the roofs of the houses, and the tree branches and power-lines are heaped with a fine dusting of snow. I should be out taking pictures with the digital camera I received for Christmas, but... well, it's cold out! And my boots are still all muddy... so I suppose I'll just sit inside instead and play WoW or make a blog for no apparent reason.
Do you ever wonder why people talk to you? Not in the general sense, but mostly people you don't really want to talk to, particularly about the details of their personal lives? This happens to me a lot. I guess I'm a pretty nice person, and patient, and people see that as an indication that I want to wade through their walls of text (on AIM) or sit and appear to be interested (in person) and give feedback on whatever personal issues they may be having, and possibly even offer advice or like, encouragement. Because obviously this is my preferred way to utilize my free time.
I'm talking about people I vaugely know; you know, the people that you've talked to once or twice, met around campus, friend of a friend kind of deal. That, or people who I've had fights with in the past, who I've gradually broken off contact with. If you are a person like this, here's some advice. One word, non-committal answers (i.e., "yeah", "really", "I see") mean that the person is too polite to tell you to shove it, but really hopes you get the hint and stop bothering them. No answers at all mean much the same; yes, there's a possibility that they're absent from their computer and had no time to tell you as such, but there's an even greater possibility that they're completely ignoring your posts in the hope that you'll talk yourself out and leave them be; particularly if you happen to be whining about your life.
I like to think I'm an open-minded, thoughtful, kind, and patient person. Please don't make me re-evaluate my personal traits by bothering me so much I want to club you across the face.
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