i exist* in a world in which i do not belong**
*i’m not sure this is true.
**despite the last asterisk, this is not to be interpreted metaphysically.
[listening to: seabear]
*i’m not sure this is true.
**despite the last asterisk, this is not to be interpreted metaphysically.
[listening to: seabear]
THIS IS SO INTENSE.
I don’t know if you understand how intense it is.
I’m living at my parent’s house again. I’m simultaneously in therapy. I’m “having those conversations.” I’m not backing down. Instead of running from fear, i’m bucking up. I’m facing every single fucking one. Every single tremor is noted, each time my soul shakes – it is not ignored.
sidenote: this hurts. This hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts. THIS HURTS. This is confusing, and lonely, and nothing that you would choose on your own. This is uncomfortable phrases, and honest communication, and honest miscommunications. This is all of that – entered. Fought. Lost. And won.
I’m making mistakes. One of the last things I wrote on my blog was that I wanted to live fully and make big, glorious mistakes. Why the fuck would I write that? It’s probably the dumbest most honest thing i’ve ever asked for and i’m trying not to hate myself for it.
i’m making some pretty big mistakes right now. Not on purpose – i’m not that arrogant. It’s just that when i was growing up i wasn’t allowed to. There was no grace, no room for life.
now. I cannot give m yself much. That part i still fail at in many areas. But i have been able to give myself grace for the mistakes i’ve made in the past few weeks. There have been moments of receiving it from others as well; this gift – it cannot be compared, it encompasses all that i want.
Honesty. Fear. And Trust. Have been my words recently. And the links between them have filled my thoughts. I’m done hiding. I can’t do it anymore (that’s the honesty part). For so long I’ve hidden pieces of myself to keep others happy. I relate to them [people] out of places that will keep them happy. But really, that is only a piece of me [brought to life] so conversely, what i am really relating to them out of is many pieces put to death.
and that’s just not helpful to anyone. It’s not.
it also comes from places of deep fear. Because being yourself – especially when you roll with two entirely different crowds as i often tend to – can be incredibly lonely. You realize you are not fully one or the other. But in those places you put to death your other self in order to appear as fully one.
I CANT DO IT ANYMOREEEEE. I can’t. and while this realization could lead to good, whole, awakened me relating to others, it also just makes me want to run away from the situations in which i would have to adjust.
i’m not afraid of that loneliness anymore. Sure it’ll hurt. Sure – i might lose friends, respect. But i don’t really care.
and lastly. I want to know full, unwavering trust. I want to know what that feels like. I want to know what a life in it feels like. Whether it’s trust in the universe, in god, in gods, in myself, in my community – WHATEVER. I want to know. Whenever i imagine it, it feels like the first breath of cool fall air rushing through your veins and re-awakening every lethargic piece that fell asleep in the heat of summer. That’s what i want my life to feel like.
fluid, alive, refreshing, trusting, release.
i just finished the novel And Now You Can Go by Vendela Vida (she’s Dave Eggers’ wife. I am unbelievably jealous of the writing genes their children are destined to inherit). It read more like a movie than a book. i liked it.
in a strange way it was about redemption, about letting go of the need to punish someone else for something they’ve done to you.
in every way – it’s exactly what i’ve been thinking about [indirectly].
i’m taking a break from the city today. i’ve been in nyc for about 10 days now but it feels like a month. every day could be three or four, at least; a new one starts each time i walk out of this apartment, another when i catch the bus, another when i wander down a new block or avenue, and another when a stranger smiles. the days last longer than they should.
listening to Interpol. i want to get through all three albums today. i think that’s a good goal for the day. started with “Not Even Jail” from Antics. shuffle.
i’ll meet seema tonight for dinner, 8:30. she really wants me to move to the city. and my dad really wants me to apply for grants to do research. and my mom stays silent, and later says that means she wants me to do what i want. my friends want me to come home. my friends want me to visit. my brother wants me to lock my car doors.
my uncle says i am exactly where i need to be.
realization #1: i’m related to the most amazing people that i know.
spending a lot of time around old people, surprisingly, does not make you think about death or even oldness. it makes you consider the choices you’re choosing right now. it’s like peephole into the future – that which is inevitable and that which you have control over.
it’s the pieces that you can control that scare me the most. some days i just don’t have the energy to fight the control piece.
there are a lot of “things” in my life that make a lot more sense thanks to these past ten days or so. observing and living in the dynamics that existed before you did helps to put the present in perspective. and it makes me wonder what i could understand if my family actually believed in sharing history with each other, in telling each other what happened before instead of swearing it to it’s death.
i don’t think i can walk anywhere today.
it’s not so much that my body is tired but my head just won’t wake up. i should just go back to sleep.
i might pick up Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance again. I stopped because i couldn’t handle the philosophical tangents he would embark on between descriptions of scenery. the philosophical tangents sound like my head.
there’s a picture of two of my cousins, christopher and mia, sitting on the table next to me. christopher’s probably about 3, mia looks no older than 1. mia’s mouth is hanging open, like she’s daydreaming and forgot to close it. christopher is wearing a three piece suit, without the jacket. his eyes are dark and sad, while emotion is vacant from the rest of his being.
i saw him on saturday with the same eyes, the same being, the same vacancy – just in greater proportions.
it was then i realized i would do anything to fix those eyes and i could do nothing for them.
i’m inside like
a wrecking ball through your eyes
and i change it all from the inside
~ Wrecking Ball, by Interpol
what happens when you run away from that which you’re already attached to?
does the string sever or stretch or fade in distance so great you cannot find it’s origin?
we’re about to find out.
- haven’t been writing much lately. been “in it”. you know – like just sitting in it. it’s weird. sometimes i’ll be sitting there (in it) and feel guilty for not writing (in it). but sometimes it’s just good to sit.
- realization: organization is not a skill i possess. the week or so i spent organizing school notes and/or old cards/letters felt like the hardest week of my life. packing on the other hand – easy. also, i’m not sure how i didn’t connect this one sooner. i mean, i literally have a folder on my desktop called “Everything feels impossible to organize right now.” i can’t even organize intangible matter on the computer. what was i thinking trying with real stuff?
- speaking of writing and organizing: today i packed my journals. it surprises me every time i do this how many i have. whoa. i mean, did i actually live life or did i just write about it? okay i don’t want the answer to that question. also, i finished my last journal surprisingly fast (everything is really surprising in this note, have you noticed?) and it’s like it was such an incredulous experience (finishing it that quickly) that i can’t actually grasp the fact that i have to start a new one. anyway, i’m finally using the one cammie made for me. she gave it to me last spring but i knew i had to wait until it was “time.” it’s time now.
- so good to have b, soph, & kmyers over tonight. to be with friends, with people, when a huge piece of me inside still resists “needing” anyone. sitting there, realizing how much better it was that they were here, that i wasn’t sitting in my empty, packed room spinning alone. we laugh indoors.
- one of my biggest fears is owning too much stuff and yet i keep everything. maybe that’s why i’m scared of it. i just hate the thought of having an uncontrollable, unecessary, obnoxious amount of stuff. i’ve become transfixed with the practice of sorting through and throwing things out, even if i end up keeping eight of object X and only throwing/giving one away.
- the majority of the time i’ve written in this blog has been after midnight. and it makes me angry that it always posts the date as the next day because to me, right now, it is still Friday, July 17, 2009 (my friend Rhianwen’s 22nd birthday. she lives in Wales though and it’s definitely not her birthday there still). i’ve tried to fix the date/time setting on here many times and it resets itself consistently.
- right now i’m reading Expecting Adam by Martha Beck. it’s such an easy read, and incredibly refreshing to read someone in the Sociological field (Sociology of gender, no less! the most cynical of them all, in my opinion) with hope and an understanding of truly living. i’ve laughed out loud and cried multiple times while reading, and i’m only halfway through.
- crazy nostalgic/sentimental these days. i think it has something to do with moving back into the parent’s house – it’s bringing back a lot of memories. been listening to awkward amounts of third eye blind, goo goo dolls, lifehouse, switchfoot, better than ezra, jimmy eat world, and even a little dashboard confessional. i can’t believe i just admitted that. anyway – it’s true.
- haven’t been updated to motivate my flickr in a week or so. this goes along with the not writing/being in it thing. i can’t even remember what i’ve been photographing. it’s weird.
- cat and i went to lunch on tuesday or wednesday. or maybe thursday. i can’t remember. anyway, the point is she asked me, “what are your options for the fall?” no one has ever asked me that before. it’s an entirely different question from “what are your plans?” or “what are you doing now?” i hate those questions. they cause unhealthy quantities of disgust and anger to be released into my system that i never knew existed. someone expects me to have a PLAN?! who am i, God? i didn’t write jeremiah 29:11. leave me alone. but options. as david bazan/pedro the lion puts it “it’s good to have options.” it’s amazing how one word can change your entire outlook on the next few months of your life. oooh, let’s define it, shall we?
options – noun
1. the power or right of choosing
2. something that may be or is chosen; choice.
3. the act of choosing
mmm. the power or right of choosing. i love it. i love it because it takes all the ugly pressure off and puts the right amount of good on. what i mean by that is: it takes off the frantic “ohmygod ohmygod what am i gonna do i dont know what i’m gonna do ahhh” and puts on the “hey. i have time. i’m alive. and i want to live life. here are some things i would like to do in the near future. let’s see if they’re possible.”
and those words give me breath… :)
- so i got to thinking about what my options are. and i’m still not entirely sure. but i do know that if hopeful idealistic plan A doesn’t pan out, i’d love to write. i’d love to have a low-key, writing/editing/assistant type job for something or someone somewhere. though i’m not sure if that’s possible. bachelor’s degrees don’t really mean anything anymore except that maybe once, you had an existential crisis and you’ve probably been to a party with a keg.
- so then i started thinking about these writing jobs, you know. they all ask for “samples” and “pieces” or to see your “portfolio.” and i have none of that. i have the crap that i pulled out of the statistics and theories spinning around in my head from the day’s lecture the night before a term paper was due. yeah. as i think through that amazingly terrible wordy sentence i realize it’s truth: the writing samples i “have” are durkheim’s, marx’s, weber’s, and hochschild’s ideologies pinned together with my less-than-polished words and style, interspersed with the approximate stats i could remember at the moment. pathetic. note to self: maybe work on this.
- new life goals: become a yoga instructor/ live in india (turns out my mom wants to do that too? so we might do that together. i mean the live in india part. she wants to do something else there but i can’t remember what). get rid of more stuff. discover the beautiful. be wrong; have misconceptions; make lots of glorious, big, beautiful mistakes. live and learn and learn and learn.
- really excited about new york in 8 days. really hoping matt & alex will make it to the city while i’m there. i miss them both a surprising amount.
- moving out tomorrow. freaking out tomorrow. might not get out of bed next week. okay maybe once. i cannot fully enter into how much life and love i have experienced here. i don’t think i will be able to for a very long time. this is unfortunate, seeing as how the ‘farewell’ dinner is on sunday and i would like to impart this to my dear dear friends. whenever i think about it though, no words come, only tears.
- i’m absolutely exhausted. these days have felt eternal, and i never wake up in the morning with enough energy for eternity. i’m terrible at change, no matter how many times i go to my parent’s house during the months before and sit in the room and think “this will be my room, i will live here” or how early i started planning out how i wanted to pack or how slowly i’ve done it or how much rest time and breaks i’ve given myself in between. these things do help, yes, but it still makes me want to crawl into a hole deep enough where no one can hear the wails of one entering the unknown.
- this morning i woke up with “swallowed in the sea” by coldplay stuck in my head. first of all – i didn’t even know i knew that song. after googling the only line i could remember (ha, i was talking to Jackie on the phone and said, “i should google ‘the stupid coldplay song stuck in my head’ and see what happens.”) i figured out what it was. second of all – i purposely did not buy/acquire x&y by coldplay out of the simple notion that i had heard only a few songs but they were all stuck in my head for days. and they were annoying. i still don’t own the album and somehow the songs infuse themselves into my brain, my dreams. (ugh, now i’m listening to a live version of “fix you”. i’m telling you, that album is one evil cyclical trap of haunting [not the beautiful kind] melodies. dont get me wrong – i’m loving viva la vida. but whatever chris & the guys were feeling on x&y is not a place i would like to know)
- lastly, perfection sounds like bon iver’s voice singing to me live and a plate of bamboo house buffet. [see also: anything by iron & wine, afternoon thunderstorms, anything made with blueberries, and being at home wherever you go]
thanks and goodnight.
you could write about feelings for days and days and days and never truly feel any of it.
[listening to: northvia]
initial reaction from the genessee diary by henri nouwen:
i’ve just received a thought – that is, a thought came to me – regarding the similarities of breathing in, breathing out, grasping, and letting go.
we continue breathing, in and out, slowly, rhythmically in order to stay alive. thankfully, when our bodies are healthy this action is done without thought, even while we are asleep, our breathing continues at a comfortable pace keeping our physical being in a normal state: giving it the ability to go or to stop as needed, to slow down, to speed up, and our hearts adjust to each of these decisions.
emotionally – we grasp (breathe in), and so often fail to let go (breathe out). our emotional hearts, or, our souls, are perpetually in a state of holding their breath, essentially, of suffocating themselves, by our failure to let go. how incredibly empty and beautiful would our lives remain if we could practice the art of allowing our souls to breathe out… of allowing them a sigh of relief by letting go of the definitions, the people, the ideas, the identities we grasp onto for security and false hope.
even more – to think that our emotional health could evolve to mimick that of our physical health: grasping and letting go without even a thought…
i’m going to let this settle for a time or two.
sometimes, you remember to see the details.