Now listen here, bucko. I don’t know about you, but I know that exams/essays/reading every day is well,
ruining my eyesight.
I wish I had something interesting to say because I read so many interesting things, but I just tweet them and forget about them. Twitter is the new Facebook, for reals. If you didn’t know I’m glad I’m the one to tell you.
My grandfather said that he would pay for a trip for me somewhere within the limit of 10,000$… and all I want to do is go and do this program: Americas Journalism Training.
I want to be an Argentinean.
This blog does very little to help me organize my thoughts sometimes. For the main part of the day I’m bouncing around reading incredible things and doing nothing with them. I’m reading more than I’m thinking about it all and I guess that sort of thought formation process is what I really need to work on. I feel like so much of my thoughts go unrecorded because I stopped writing in my journal and cataloguing every day. I just give brief overviews of life now, not little snippets of anything – just haze.
This blog is sometimes public and sometimes personal and 100% useless.
Like, for example. Yesterday I had to cut off a 19-year-old PokerStars.net champion. He got angry and left me a 2$ tip for a 98$ bill. That’s life, and I’m not complaining. In fact, I kind of liked cutting him off.
Many jokes later.
Back to ardent feminist prose and literary analysis.
“I would rather be ashes than dust; I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dryrot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”
I’ve decided that it’s really draining, attempting to think of blog posts. I mean, really, I was never planning on writing for anyone. Which is why I have a personal journal as WELL as this blog. However, sometimes, I write something in one and then forget to write it in the other, and my continuous storyline of a life gets dismantled (when I read it over again) because one entry will be all “I went to the mall.” and the next will be like “OMG I went to Cuba, it was awesome”…. and I’ll be all…. buh?
Anyway, that’s not really the problem. The problem is that due to excessive laziness and procrastination I’ve actually managed to stop writing everyday, both online and in my journal. This is not good. Not good at all.
And generally, I don’t set limits for myself, because well… some days you feel like spawning creative juice babies, and some days you just don’t feel up to devilish procreation. That’s just the way the spawn spawns (a weak relation to ‘that’s the way the cookie crumbles’ I really just need to spend more time on my metaphors, is what I’m saying).
All of a sudden I’m realizing that I need to finish 2 books by the end of this week, write an article, submit some poetry, gather up a more poetry to submit to a competition, annnnnnnnnnnnd perhaps, you know, go to work 2 times, go to 2 poetry events, go out dancing tonight, and possibly sleep. But really, don’t I love life like this? YES.
Hellooooooooooooooooo life, I en-JOY the heck out of you.
I really think it’s a good idea to set some sort of writing limits for myself – not regarding this blog, but writing writing. AT LEAST 1 poem per week, and a short story every month. And then at the end of the month I’ll do a run down of what I’ve written, and that will be an epic 2 days worth of updates, or so.
YES. Therefore, the last week of every month (starting in March, I think, because omg february makes me pee my pants, and well, March isn’t that much better, but STILL, I NEED TO, DAMNIT) will be like CREATIVE WRITING READ ME PLEASE week.
I have three topics for this post, which is, yes, both ambitious and absurd. But first, go listen to Dramamine by Modest Mouse, and Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) by Florence and The Machine, if you haven’t yet, of course. Fantastic songs, one of which I’m writing a paper on and the second of which I wish I could possibly LIVE in. (Also, Rabbit Heart reminds me of that song from Bend it Like Beckham that’s all like “Yeah, yeah” and all cheery and shit. Clearly you know what I’m talking about, but if you don’t, go here, please.)
This is a gift but it comes with a price Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
So, to start off my beautiful blog post, which I have about 15 minutes to finish before I have to dash off to my class on the other side of campus, I present you with,
Crying
I cry all of the time. It didn’t used to be like this. In fact, I was a freaking overcooked, tough, gnaw-y cookie. Scrapes, bruises, fights or armageddon I would hold myself together and “womanned up”. I was sometimes even a bitch, but let’s not get into that.
The point is, I would not cry at: sappy movies, serious movies, sad movies, happy movies, teacher movies, sport movies, tragic events, happy events, unidentified events, in front of people, not in front of people… and you get the drift.
Now? All of the above? What happens? Oh yes.
Whether it be joyous or maddeningly frustrating or heart-wrenchingly sad – I cry.
When I have a fight with someone, I burst into tears.
When I don’t have a fight with someone, and think I’ve offended them, I burst into silent tears in my room.
When I see a sad/happy/inspiring/depressing movie, I cry.
When I think about my life (happy or sad), I leak from the eyes.
And what, may you ask, is the cause of all of these liquid sodium atoms all bonded together with water, issuing forth from my tear ducts?
Puberty. Fucking puberty. Now, it’s just because I don’t feel the need to be strong for anyone though (except for myself), but also that I’m not afraid to be vulnerable. Because I know that when the moment comes that I need to be strong – I can be. So crying all of the time has just become a way for me to let my emotions go and move forward with my life in a blank (ish) slate. More neutral than prior to the weeping.
Which is good. It helps my life to stay in equilibrium, and all. It keeps me dehydrated, which I replenish by drinking lotsalotsa water. But all in all, apart from making my face wet sometimes, I really enjoy it. I enjoy a good cry about something sad. Or happy. Or whatever.
Which brings us to point number two (you like that segue)…
Changing your mind about Life
Some of my friends, boyfriends, acquaintances and other ambiguous bodily-like people in my life come to me at various times talking about “failing out of life” and changing their minds more than a hooker changes positions. I explain my perspective to them in their own terms: the more positions, the better. The more various (and deep) places you are able to reach. The more opportunities to discover your metaphorical orgasm.
I’ve never been a person that sticks with one thing for a very long time. As a kid I jumped from watercolour classes to horseback riding to media arts camps on a rotating basis. One day I’d be doing hip hop dancing, the next I would be cartooning. The point is – I wanted to try it all, to know it all. That quality has stuck with me through teenage-hood and is ominously following me into adulthood. I’m still convinced it’s a good thing, to try different things. Maybe I didn’t know I was going to be a doctor since I was 7 years old, but so what? You know how many different things I know in different themes? Do you know how many connections I make inter-subjectually? (That’s a word). It’s fascinating to tie things together in my mind.
Of course fucking up something sucks, but it is usually not from sucking, but from approaching the situation improperly. I fuck up at various endeavors. In fact, just today I realized that I got 55% on my Natural Science midterm. That grade SUCKS in comparison to anything I’ve ever possibly gotten in my life starting with the 2nd grade. Seriously. Possibly the lowest mark EVER. But I couldn’t control the things that happened before the exam, so I didn’t worry about taking it. What else could I have done to change my situation? I never think cramming and all-nighters are an answer to anything because I rarely get anything done (unless it’s craptastic essays, which I do surprisingly well at 3 am). So, I sleep, I go do the exam. And I get a 55%.
Big. Deal.
Another thing is that I’ve switched majors 3 times, universities once. To some people that seems scary and illogical – why would I be throwing out a year of university to “follow my dreams”? Because I have nothing else to follow. I am not business-minded by nature, although I’m sure I could be. I do not much care for the maths or the sciences, although I’m fascinated by them. I love history but it wasn’t getting me anywhere. English is a different story. I thrive on it, even when I hate reading it. It teaches me about my writing. It lets me dive into my soul, every once in a while.
The Boyfriend is the same way – he loves learning, as do I. About everything. He reads calculus in his spare time and I read stories, but it’s all the same thing. His student record isn’t pristine but it’s varied. It’s interesting and it’s going to take him where he wants. That’s the point. Not rigidity. Not 100% success. Just attempts and new routes.
Maybe I should have gone into art or become a chef or taken my ECE and not dished out more than 20,000 for my education. But I’m doing what I’m doing because I feel it’s leading me somewhere I will be happy. And that’s the best I can do for this moment.
Worrying about whether you’re doing the right thing all of the time? It’ll just make you stressed. Most of my friends are all young little fillies, and should relax a little and let life guide them along to what they should be doing. Stop forcing decisions into your life that it’s not ready for. Finish university, then think.
Now that I’ve finished my second topic however, I have no idea what I wanted to write for my third.
Hmmm…
Maybe I’ll just plug in the video for Rabbit Heart here.
Voila!
In other news, I was incredibly productive today and hope to continue being so at least until the end of the week, when I plan on falling off the edge of the world. Or, just enjoying my weekend. Whatever. I don’t know what’s coming up anytime soon.
Life is up in the air and for once I am revelling in that. It’s beautiful when you don’t know what’s going on, if you just stop and watch it all happen, sometimes.
I had a fantastic conversation with a like-minded guy in my English class about Food Inc. and communism and water and Israel and that got me all hot and bothered, politically. I loved it, and it’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who actually knew what the hell they were talking about. What a wonderful surprise. The most satisfying part of a conversation is when you realize the other person is feeding off of your information with their own and it’s all a smorgasbord of knowledge all mashed up and excited, like electrons.
Hello from 2:22 am on New Years Day. It really says something about my social life that this is when my first post of the new year is, doesn’t it? I’ve been very into self-deprecating things lately. It’s kind of a bad habit I’ve picked up.
Ignoring that (as I do all bad habits until they start being a pain), I’ve noticed that, as expected, everyone is writing posts about resolutions. Truth be told, I don’t really believe in “resolutions”. I think that if you need a change in 2 numbers in a year that no one will remember in the future anyway (myself included) to get you off your butt and change something, it means you’re not going to change anything. If you really wanted to change some things you would start whenever or now. This just gives people an excuse to think they’re doing something more positive in their life (when really they’re just bitching and complaining about how they’re not doing any of their resolutions for the first two weeks to anyone that will listen) and a reason to get drunk and think that things will get better.
More and more I find myself cynical about a great many things. I still love babies, but life just doesn’t have a kick to it right now. I feel like at home, I’m this inward person with constant issues with ideas and people and outside in the “real world” I am the generally chipper and witty person I always was. But something inside has changed, it has shifted to something a little bit more morose. I’m not going to lie to myself and say it wasn’t because of what happened between my boyfriend and myself not a few weeks ago. That changed a lot, but I guess the full baggage train is really settling into the station of my mind now, because it seems that my whole outlook on life has altered. Not completely changed, mind you – I still believe in a lot of the things I did before: altruism, socialism, the arts, children’s blank canvas-type minds, even more vehemently, but I am more skeptical about other things: friendships, relations, transparency in government, than I was. Those are the completely simplified versions of things that I think, and obviously not garnished by my full biases on the subjects, but you get the general idea.
Anyway, I’ve made some life resolutions, instead of New Years resolutions. I will write more. Read more. I will stop wasting my time on stupid tv shows (as much as I did before). I will try to honestly forgive people close to me. I will try to be kinder and care more about my mode of life as it relates to my views and opinions on the world. I will care less about people’s actions towards me and take interest in social things that don’t have strings attached to them.
These things have been coming – you can see them in some of the past posts I’ve written. And I’m glad they have been. Because I wouldn’t be content writing “#1: Exercise more.” on here because I would be lying to you and to myself. I am exercising more as is because I have started to really care about my body again, and I am tired of being sick. This has nothing to do with the new year. We put a lot of weight on it to “change” things. But things don’t change themselves, people change things. It’s like that saying, “Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.” It’s true – nothing happens without our will and therefore that is what we should depend on. Our inner desires to live life in a better way.
And I have that desire in me.
This year was kind of awful. Kind of not. My grandmother died in the summer. I switched universities and left my city life behind. I worked at a children’s art camp. My boyfriend’s dad had a heart attack, followed by my boyfriend having a panic attack. I started new at a new university in a program I love. My friends stopped calling and emailing me and I am constantly losing contact and closeness with more and more people. My boyfriend’s life was(is) slowly derailed by his mother’s absence and the political ridiculousness in Iran. I grew stressed. He grew angry and pent up. And then that stress bubble popped in the last few weeks. Concussions, exams, and Christmas. Those were my holidays. That was my summer. That was 2009.
Needless to say I am ready for something different. I can’t promise myself something better because I don’t know if it’s going to get better. I know life has a way of getting worse before it climbs back up the slope to better. I know that I should expect the worst but I am tired of that, and I am a naturally optimistic person but I cannot help myself. I don’t know if things will get better. Life will keep moving, that is sure.
This year I’m going to move into my 3rd year of university…. what? I really am that old now, I guess. It’s about time for me to start doing something, to start putting myself out there. Somebody has to want to read me.. I have to connect to someone, or I feel like I might die. Okay, that’s a little extravagant, but you need that sort of dramatic statement every now and then to put things into balance. What I am trying to say is that I am ready for things to start going my way again. It is time, life, if you didn’t get the memo.
There is only so much of this I can take and I am about at that really red line before the whole thermometer bursts into poisonous liquid and burns your eyes out and your ears start hissing like train whistles.
So here’s to something different. Here’s to turning 20(?!) and learning more patience (as ever) and getting happiness out of nooks andcrannies.
