11.08.09
The Un-Friending Process
When the staleness of a past argument is left in your mouth, nothing tastes right. Nothing feels right either. Things you once used to enjoy are laced with a frown, pulling at your smiles. Words spoken or unspoken keep you from progressing anywhere back to “normal” or forward. Why can’t a friendship be stronger than honesty? Why must two people reevaluate their friendship if a disagreement arises? I suppose, though, in the end, it’s the friendships that are willing to accept the honesty that become stronger. Those relationships are stronger than honesty and willing to put aside differences instead of foregoing the friendship.
Even with an understanding why a friendship breaks or disintegrates, a mourning of sorts still follows while the pieces take themselves apart again. “Goodbyes” are barely spoken and “hello” muttered even less.
Friend, even if these words never reach you, please let the universe know I spoke with honesty because of our friendship. If not for our connection, I would not have been provoked to be genuinely honest. The irony is the hardest to swallow since the very words I spoke to protect you are the same words that led our paths to un-cross.
10.25.09
Sitting Pretty in Your Dreams
I’m just going to pretend that what I say next will be perfectly expressed in such a cliche: I love my life. I’m so thankful for it and I’m honestly stuck in “happy disbelief” at how it all turned around so quickly. A year ago today I was physically very sick and spiritually challenged. I questioned my strength and courage to rise above the puddle I surrendered to. To look back to that time is strange because I feel so different, almost as if that was a character I had played in a show once. I knew her well, in and out, but she was a separate entity from me.
So as I sit in the reality of what I dreamed a year ago, I wish the same for you. I hope you challenge yourself to see what you can do. To find out what it feels like to have, accomplish, try what’s been rolling around in your mind. Make a small improvement today and strive for a better one tomorrow– and acknowledge even the minor triumphs because every stroke, every pace and every inch gained, is one closer to where you want to be.
10.15.09
Voices
I can hear the upset and hushed voices from the other room. My ears are burning as one voice tries to protect the respect of my choice while another depletes my name of any worth. Do they know I can hear them? Surely, they must realize voices, even those slicked with gossip, travel down hallways and into the ears of the crazy, idiotic or pathetic.
Surely, they must know.
And tomorrow– what will happen tomorrow? Will I reveal my knowledge of the secret slanders? Or will I keep it under my breath, inside my core– just outside any shred of light, in order to forget? To bury the humiliation out of my mind and possibly out of ever existing?
08.29.09
The Trouble with Being A Prince
You stand tall among your friends.
You’ve learned it all: how to speak and be a gentleman.
That mask you wear, well, it goes good with your hair,
but style and smarts aren’t why you came over here.
Now what do you wanna tell me?
You can’t sleep ’cause you can’t eat
’cause you can’t be honest with yourself.
I know it’s hard to say you’re hurt
and feeling guilty just can’t help.
But you play it off like you were only flirting
with the idea that a prince could ever not want his crown -
that what you feel inside isn’t really worthy
of sympathy or even talking about.
Well, everybody gets confused.
And the answers, I swear, are somewhere
inside of you.
That kingdom called Potential people throw at you
has got you feeling like there’s something you ought to do;
something big, a place of command,
but you just want to be a man
who knows the meaning of his own name.
You can’t sleep ’cause you can’t eat
’cause you can’t be honest with yourself.
I know it’s hard to say you’re hurt
and feeling guilty just can’t help.
But you play it off like you were only flirting
with the idea that a prince could ever not want his crown -
that what you feel inside isn’t really worthy
of sympathy or even talking about.
But I’m not gonna let you down.
You should know by now that for sure I’ll stick around
because I care to see you safe and sound
and I know that smile is covering a frown.
I know you’re lost and that you feel
like you should have it all worked out.
This misdirection is quite affecting
how you feel inside and out.
But I don’t want to feel like I’ve been cheated
from getting to know you all the way around.
You’re my friend and I’ll love you, no questions needed.
What you say I will believe and I’ll wanna help you out.
So tell me what’s been on your mind.
I promise you, I’ve got the time
and even if I didn’t, I would stay
to listen to your troubles and
help them go away.
We’ll make it go away.
04.29.09
Susie Sells Shells Down By the Seashore. Maybe I’ll buy one of hers…
I feel like my protective shell, the one in which I feel most comfortable, is cracking and soon will shatter. This would reveal the worst thing an introspective soul could imagine: themselves, wholly and transparently. Keeping up the front, holding the nightmares at bay and protecting my insides from the outside is the purpose of this shell.
With it, I have a crutch. Without it, I can’t walk.
I really hope this storm passes soon and spares my shell.
04.21.09
I Need A Spot.
I wish I had a spot. A safe spot that I could claim as my own and shut out the distractions and obligations that could honestly wait.
In this place I would have a desk paired with a comfy chair suitable to lengthy writing sessions. To my right would be my piano with my notebook and pencil stacked casually atop my wooden confidant. The light pouring in through my window would reflect in my waterglass that’s perched next to my empty pages. In my little cove I would be able to connect to my insides and reflect what I see outside my walls.
Music would create itself and use me as its translator. Words, coming from someplace indescribable, would add a layer of guidance to my newfound melodies. I long to visit my piano and fiddle with the keys or play one of my memorized songs.
Maybe I’ll find this spot. Maybe I’ll get to be at the mercy of my music once again. Hopefully soon, hopefully soon.
04.03.09
Freckled
I have a freckle on the back on my hand. It’s perfectly centered as if on a grid between my thumb and forefinger. It’s on my right hand, the one I use to write, point, raise and throw. This is the freckle that I see everyday, that everyone can see. I love this freckle because it’s a lonely constant in my variably-based life. I can count on it being there when I wake up, a blaring dot of reassurance that I’m still ‘me’.
03.26.09
Not Your Typical Spring Break…
I feel rushed.
I shouldn’t–I have no one pressuring me to write. But still, I feel this aching need to write about the past week in my life: all the little intricacies that I love. I’d feel unimpressive and like I was missing my chance if I obstained from writing any longer. Whether the following is ‘good writing’, ’so-so’, or ‘forgettable’ – it’s necessary.
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What I have learned about life in the past week is that you can plan a day the sunset before and misstep at the burst of dawn. Last Friday night, I was broke. I was frantically trying to scrounge around to pay my bus fare to go home for Spring Break. I decided the best way to do this was to exchange my Euros. After plotting my trek to an exchange place in MoA, I started walking towards the bus stop. My brother was supposed to pick me up in Duluth the following day and bring me home. I could tell he was excited because he kept texting me to affirm (yet again) the pickup time and place.
For a fleeting instant, I said “You could just come pick me up tonight, if you have nothing else to do.” I didn’t really think my parents would let it happen (he’s seventeen and hasn’t logged many highway hours) so I continued on my way to MoA. Ten minutes away from my destination, I get a call from him saying he’ll be in the cities at 7 and our older sister was coming along for the ride. This made me smile so much because now I didn’t have to worry about a bus fare or live through another lonely night in my apartment. I decided to run in and exchange my Euros anyway. When I got to the little booth, I double checked they exchanged Euros and was declined. Turns out the internet isn’t THAT great of a source. I smiled again, anyway. Funny how news travels in just the knick of time.
Let’s fast forward a few days to get to the thicker things.
Family.
I’ve been sucking it up at school lately and have been very aware of it. I’ve realized it’s not for me, at least not at this time, but I wasn’t sure how to tell my parents without catching a soul-threatening scolding. Not wanting to lie or keep things to myself anymore, I told them the entire truth–ugly and otherwise. Looking back, I realize they understood right away, perhaps sooner than I had myself: college isn’t for everyone and there’s a strengthening maturity that comes with realizing you’re the one on the outside of where you should be. However, that night-that conversation- all of this was encoded in tears, shrill voices and uncomfortably correct assumptions. So I called my best friend.
Friends.
All I texted her was “I need you to come pick me up at my house now.” She was there in 8 minutes, no questions.
Through a mess of crocodile tears and pure freakingoutedness, she found my sanity. I remember feeling like my head was a rushing fire and her words, her voice, was the damp breeze that kept things under control and in perspective. She wasn’t pushing words against my parents like a ditzy cheerleader that doesn’t realize her team could not always win, who may be not always be the best team to support. Her words were direct and laced with a breath of practicality and confidence.
Skip ahead to the next two days and you’ll find me walking along a woodsy path filled with frozen, crunched snow. My companion: another friend and her old camera. We had a sort of parallel conversation: we were both running towards a decision that would stretch us with uncertainty. I was contemplating my purpose in college, in careers and life while she, concerning her own life, was searching for reasons to explain her trials and questioning her guts to face them or the worth of her hands. In the midst of our babbles, we created a foundation.
That Wednesday afternoon, on a little known trail in the middle of some woods, two young women made a pact which can mainly be summed up as
We’re going to follow our dreams and not be afraid to scrape our knees, pull out our hair or humiliate ourselves in the name of opportunity. Our lives are our own and we’re going to live them how we damn well please: we might have fears but none that can overcome us. The books of our lives will never get dusty nor misplaced so long as we stick to our guts and give our hearts to our dreams.
After we shook hands, pinky-sweared & bit on it, halked a loogie and took a picture to commemorate our promise to ourselves and each other, we decided we had walked far enough and turned back to our lives, our issues and our fears.
Myself.
To say I had done a lot of thinking over break would be an understatement but to say that I hold all the answers I need would be a lie.
At any given time I felt like I was saying too much or had to catch one more opinion from someone. Either way, I was aware I was in a mess and the only way out included shedding my skin and growing a new one.
Family.
At the end of the first “conversation”, we had agreed to finish discussing later in the week. Holding true to my word and my parents to theirs, we finished “the talk” much more diplomatically and empathetically than initiated. I left my hometown with a new direction, a new support team and a scarily new life plan. College may be in the rearview mirror, but the “real world” is flirting with my headlights.
01.02.09
Reflection #7
And yes, thoughts are floating around in my head. Like why can some things be so easy for others and just utterly incomprehensible for me? I think too much, I feel too much and I think waayy too much about what I’m thinking and feeling. I wish this on no one, but I wish I knew someone with a similar outlook or frame of mind. I want the good advice that won’t make me more angry or jealous of their intellect. I want that knowing smile, the one that encourages the ego and discourages external influence all in the same gesture. I need my ego. I feel like I haven’t enough courage with my Id and SuperEgo to muster any sort of worth. My ego needs its nutrients, the shallow nights filled with gluttony and binges on the self-image. Recently I’ve had a taste of this and I feel the urge to keep it in my hand. And with every puff of mindbending complexes, I see a new me, the same stage but a new light system. Later in life I will hold fast to the securities of institution; for now, I will live each moment as the best and expand my mind both intellectually and philosophically.
Peace.
01.03.09
“A Really Good Thing” is a Terrible Lie
It’s times like these where I have to repeat to myself “It will end. It will end. It has to end soon.” The way that I can live with people for so long, people who supposedly know me, vouch for me and are patient with me is a lie. It’s all just a pretty lie.
These are the people that taught me to always do the “right thing”- to always help out any way you can- and when I try to do this, somehow my view of the “right thing” is skewed and a mistake. This boils down to me being a bad judge of character, a bad judge of my abilities and completely ignorant of my boundaries and those around me.
But this all leads me to wonder: When will I do something, just one thing, that will be “good”? Something that both people involved and those close to me who hear about it will ease back into their chairs and look to the side and say, “That was a really good thing you did there. A really good thing.”?
03.01.09
Misconstrued & Underappreciated, Party of One
I don’t understand. Many times I have felt confused but understood why I was confused. Now, I’m just plain con-fucking-fused and bewildered of my parents.
It’s times like these where I wonder if it really mattered if I refrained from getting my nose pierced.
I did a lot of research and spent a lot of time figuring out how it would work with all of us renting a house.
My parents didn’t see me doing this and so they assume it never happened. They assume I’m a complete idiot—I don’t realize how my actions affect others and that I only think about myself and my needs.
I refuse to believe this.
I refuse to adhere to their ridiculous expectations of me. I am NOT an irresponsible person, I am NOT looking for handouts and I especially do not like being insulted by said assumptions.
I have a mind of my own and I do care what others think of me—especially what my parents think about me.
I guess I’ll always be the screw-up, the one who didn’t think before she leapt and the little naive girl who leaves everyone else out of the dark and forced to pay the tab.
Should I cry about this? Probably not. Will I cry about this? Probably so.
Either way, things aren’t gonna change.
I’m out of luck but everyone else is perfection, or at least accepted for who they really are.
03.03.09
A Winter’s Wind
Leaves are turning—skipping stones across the pond face down to the earth.
A singing robin improvises soul.
Tweets from the trees since the first breath after birth.
How hollow are the winds that blow those trees?
And how high do they rest on top of those trees?
Does that bird know the words to it’s petty song?
Will you fear the helplessness of a frozen pond?
