if you ask, that’s what I’ll say. it’s not your business anyway…
so i’m having some problems with my blog over at bookish.nu/gossamer… i messed something or other up, so i’m hosting my posts over here until i figure it out.
i’m pretty sick, and it’s admittedly a little scary… and very lonely… being by myself all weekend when i’m feeling like this, especially since my cell phone has been slain; a piece broke off when i dropped it, and initially the problem was that i could only get text messages and not calls. now all that happens when i try to turn it on is that the keypad lights up.
i’m also proving my point at the moment that i don’t generally post before 3… or even 4 am.
i wish very much that i knew how to articulate what’s going on in my head right now. i’ve had some really amazing and… worthwhile, if a bit painful… conversations with incredible people (two in particular, which isn’t to say that there aren’t other incredible people, i’ve just been given the opportunity to talk to these people more than others thus far) this week which have led me to realize a great deal about myself.
it was articulated to me (and it’s entirely possible that the person who said this is reading this, in which case, know that i appreciate tremendously the fact that you were bold enough to point this out, it makes you an amazing friend) that it seems like, at least from the things that bother me and the point that i’ve sort of stumbled to in the past couple of years, that i’ve spent a long time basically erecting the scaffolding around what’s only amounted to a foundation thus far.
i got scared at a point when i was younger that if people saw who i really was and the things that had molded me and brought me there, that i would frighten them away. consequently, i abandoned the construction of walls and started building an elaborate facade instead, based on what i thought would make me acceptable in the public eye. for example… people in south carolina are very religious? well, i’d darn well better go to church and “believe”! pretend i’m happy all the time and nothing’s ever bothering me… why did i leave lehigh? well, the eating disorder certainly has no mention in this. there’s about 2 people here who know my parents are getting divorced. the only other student i’m aware of knowing that religion makes me INCREDIBLY uncomfortable right now is not a southerner or a church goer.
i’m pretty good at giving off the impression that i’m whatever i ought to be without actually directly lying about anything, alas… i lie by omission CONSTANTLY, however. “what’s the matter?”… “oh, nothing, i’ve just got a lot of work and having been getting much sleep.” both of which are true. neither of which are really what’s bothering me.
this whole structure has built up so much that i really have no idea what’s inside anymore myself. i have vague ideas of the things i like and the ideals in which i believe. i have no idea what i want to do with my life that isn’t some delusion of grandeur. i have no idea what makes me happy. i get brief spurts of actual genuine bliss every once in a great while, usually directly connected to one of about 6 people, never involving school as it exists for me right now.
i’ve gotten a lot of stuff off my chest this week and cleared up some confusion/hurt that messed up a really incredible relationship for a long time, and there’s still a few people i need to do this with, but i’m scared. it’s one thing to vaguely allude to stuff that’s bothering me in posts like this, or to hit on some kind of common knowledge stuff that’s upsetting me in rants like the one i posted january 16, but it’s another thing altogether to approach someone with an explanation for your behavior 2 1/2 years after the fact, or to tell someone you are not in fact okay with what’s going on in your personal life.
i don’t like to talk face to face about the hard stuff. i’m really bad at it. i don’t like to hurt, i don’t like other people to see me crying. i don’t like being vulnerable to other people in “real time.” i’m supposed to be strong; that’s what society teaches us, isn’t it? no one likes the weaklings, the jaded ones, those who you can see dragging their invisible baggage around every day.
the only soldier now is me;
i’m fighting things i cannot see.
i think it’s called my destiny
that i am changing.
i find i’m consistently in the habit of blogging after 3 a.m.
there are times when i’m uncertain
if the things i mask, i’m right to hide
if i tell you, can you face me?
there’s some things you’ve never held inside.
and i feel like you’re so happy;
i’m missing that “cheerful” gene.
it’s hard to always force a smile;
the laughter rarely hits my eyes.
but you don’t ever see that, do you?
if you’re not jaded, you don’t know
what it is to be missing
the part of you that needs to show;
the part that’s confident you’ll make it,
the part that’s confident there’s some plan,
that part of you you know can take it
if you lose it all again.
am i wrong to say i envy you?
your perfect happy life?
those “unfortunate” things are just bumps in the road,
not, for you, some twisting knife.
i don’t remember what it’s like
to just sit around and be,
without dwelling on the painful stuff
that makes me hurt,
but makes me me.
sometimes i can’t just hold it in;
it’s terrifying when the only people
who can understand the pain and sin
of your “past” life
are hundreds of miles away.
and home’s not your home,
just the place that you live,
and more than all that,
you know you would give
the world for the person who sees things the same,
who knows who you are, that there’s no one to blame
but yourself for the things you can’t
just push away,
but who takes all the things and the tons that they weigh
and reminds you that each night ends in day
and the nightmares and heartbreak that get in your way…
all that, you can just cast away.
there’s a place for we who don’t know it exists;
it may take us longer getter there than
those with clear sights,
but we know, all alone, on those deep, bitter nights,
that some day the abyss will come to a close,
and we’ll be there, we’ll be home;
just when this may come… who knows?
i know… there’s no real rhyme scheme and no flow. it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, i’m tired, i’m sad, i don’t feel well. forgive me.
my sun sets to rise again
i wonder if everything i do,
i do instead of something i want to do more.
maybe i’m not up for being a victim of love.
a little bird told me that jumping is easy and falling is fun,
right up until you hit the sidewalk shivering and stunned.
the world owes me nothing, and we owe each other the world.
sometimes you don’t get to choose
what gets erased and what you hold onto.
remember when i was sweet and unexplainable?
i have earned my disillusionment.
god help you if you are an ugly girl;
course too pretty is also your doom,
’cause everyone harbors a secret hatred
for the prettiest girl in the room.
god help you if you are a phoenix,
and you dare to rise up from the ash.
a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
while you are just flying back.
courage built a bridge;
jealousy tore it down.
maybe some faith would do me good.
i have as much rage as you have;
i have as much pain as you do.
i’ve lived as much hell as you have,
and i’ve kept mine bubbling under for you.
i sabotage myself for fear of what my bigness could do.
we are hope despite the times.
i’m good at being uncomfortable,
so i can’t stop changing all the time.
i don’t want my words to fall short of what i’m trying to say.
you’ll never touch the things that i hold.
nobody ever said it was easy;
no one ever said it would be this hard.
The most bipolar, straight-forward post I’ve ever written…
i’m not going to try and reign in my language tonight, because it’s not real… i’d rather be authentic at this point than avoid stepping on people’s toes (sorry, parents!).
sometimes life sucks.
sometimes you pick the wrong major and the wrong school (twice!) and people are stupid and relationships are stupid and you make dumb decisions and your parents get separated and then divorced and you get really depressed and you close yourself off and nobody understands why you have the most intense mood swings they’ve ever come in contact with and grandparents get sick and you get sick and you keep getting hurt, both mentally and physically, worse every time, and it sucks. a lot. so much.
but things change. you get hurt and you ball up and sooner or later someone figures out all kinds of crap is happening and you’re falling apart and need help and they reach out. it’s not always the person you expect, either. take the hand… things work out eventually.
because when things finally accumulate to the point that you more or less implode, crash and burn harder than you ever thought you would (because EVERY crash is harder than the last)… things become a lot clearer. it’s suddenly obvious the things that are completely wrong with your life that you can do something about yourself and the things that you can’t do a damn thing about and that you just need to learn to look at from different perspectives until you find the one that doesn’t make you want to run away screaming.
i don’t like school, but there’s no point in being miserable about it for the rest of the semester. i’ve got some amazing friends here, i’ll spend the time with them wisely, try to get as much as i can from my classes, try to figure myself out a little better before i thrust myself into yet another new situation.
i don’t like that my parents are getting divorced, but it’s really none of my business and i want them to be happy, whatever that means… even if they’re not happy now, hopefully this will lead in the right direction. i’m scared of being a statistic, i won’t lie… my grandparents are divorced… my dad’s brother divorced his first wife… now my parents are getting divorced… that would significantly up my odds of having a marriage not work out.
but who knows if i’ll get married anyway? maybe i’m okay with not… wouldn’t it rock my crazy catholic grandmother’s world (in a very negative way) if i had a lover? ha… a non-catholic lover?
nah… don’t take that as “she’s a manhater.” i’m not. i just don’t really know what i want. well… i mean… i really want to get my BA and Master’s studying russian/slavic history, culture and language, and then run off to some small town (or big city, who knows) in some slavic/eastern european country and write. joanne harris-style. whom i adore with all my heart and soul. all that’s not very conducive to being married, however.
i don’t like being expected to be a certain way, by anyone. i mean… generally speaking, most of my parents’ assumptions about me are right, but not all, and nor are all of anybody else’s. hey! surprise! i question god! i’m not super-christian! fca scares me! i don’t consider what other people will think of my hair before i do anything to it! i don’t really care! the way i feel about all-girls schools now is not the way i felt about them in high school! opinions change! i’m a college student!
yep… i’m crazy… i break easily, both mentally and physically. i put up fronts when i’m hurt and when i’m scared. i don’t like letting people in, especially people i’m afraid will judge me when they find out who i actually am and what i actually think about things. i’m a perfectionist- it doesn’t make a bloody difference to me whether or not my parents care about my grades, i do. i also don’t work nearly as hard for them as i should, regardless of the fact that i often say i’m doing homework, i just lucked into smart genes. sometimes i feel antisocial. has nothing to do with you or how i feel about you, i just don’t want to do anything. with anybody. i hurt myself more than anyone else does. i rip myself to shreds constantly. but don’t let that statement fool you. sometimes i know i’m an amazing person. sometimes i know i’m beautiful. but sometimes i hate myself and who i am and the way people perceive me. i don’t like it when people try to understand ALL of me. it’s not possible. understand what’s natural for you to understand… and just listen to the rest, if you really care. i’m bizarre and messed up, i’m aware of that.
so i’ve probably scared everyone away now.
Each broken heart will eventually mend
i know it’s really annoying that i keep posting just lyrics instead of actually writing… but i don’t feel very well and they really capture most of what i’m thinking/feeling at the moment.
this is how it works: you’re young until you’re not;
you love until you don’t; you try until you can’t;
you laugh until you cry; you cry until you laugh;
and everyone must breathe until their dying breath.
no, this is how it works:you peer inside yourself,
you take the things you like and try to love the things you took,
and then you take that love you made and stick it into
someone else’s heart, pumping someone else’s blood
and walking arm in arm.
you hope it don’t get harmed, but even if it does,
you’ll just do it all again.
what if one of these days your heart will just stop ticking
and they sort of just don’t find you till your cubicle is reeking?
some days aren’t yours at all.
they come and go as if they’re someone else’s days.
they come and leave you behind someone else’s face,
and it’s harsher than yours, and it’s colder than yours.
the new coats of paint will not reacquaint broken hearts to broken homes.
Take time to realize
for some reason the last two posts i’ve written haven’t actually gone up.
i’ve been thinking about some pretty odd stuff lately, partly in connection to a plot line i’m attempting to cook up and partly in relation to my struggle with all things related to God.
at any rate… i feel like pretty much all real philosophy and attempts at developing oneself in terms of mind and soul sort of went out the window with the start of the industrial revolution. suddenly we’re all too focused on the rat race, “improving” ourselves in ways that will help us win.
college has become about getting ahead in the world, about giving kids a leg up when they’re applying for jobs in big businesses, law firms, etcetera. how many people do you know who go to school now without at least a notion of what they’re going to do with their degree or where it’s going to get them?
i realize now that for a long time, i was one of those kids; i thought i needed to know what i wanted to do after graduating, and that i needed to do it immediately after graduating (either 4 year or grad school), and that all my other goals in life should be put off until i was well established in whatever career i believed whole-heartedly that i wanted to pursue, because everyone has to want to pursue a set career path, right? and everyone goes to college for a degree that will help them with that career, right?
nope.
i told people for a while (including most of last semester) that i wanted to continue after college with grad school, get my master’s and finally my phD, and teach at the college level. after all, it’s assumed that you’re planning on doing something with your degree. your college advisor starts asking you freshman year what your ultimate goals with your major are.
i don’t want to teach. maybe someday in the far distant future. but not now.
i do want to go to grad school, because that’s my kind of learning. study what i want to study, in depth. i really do love school, when i get to learn about things in which i’m interested.
but i want to graduate college and go to grad school purely for the purpose of learning. i don’t know that there’s really something i want to do immediately after school that will put my degree to what most people feel is legitimate use. i’m not going to school for the sake of furthering my career.
after i finish grad school i want to apply to be a nanny or find some job in a cafe or a shop of some sort or as a housekeeper or something in central europe. and write. historical fiction. drawing from my background in eastern and central european history, which is what i intend to study after i transfer, and in grad school.
i don’t need loads of money to be happy, i just need to be able to support myself and to be able to do something i love in a place that allows me to be surrounded by it.
You think I’m not worthy
the windows of my soul are made of one way glass;
don’t bother looking in my eyes.
if there’s something you want to know, just ask.
i got a dead-bolt stroll, where i’m going is clear.
i won’t wait for you to wonder, i’ll just tell you why i’m here.
’cause i know the biggest crime
is just to throw up your hands,
say “this has nothing to do with me,
i just want to live as comfortably as i can.”
you got to look outside your eyes.
you got to think outside your brain.
you got to walk outside your life,
to where the neighborhood changes.
…
i was a long time coming, i’ll be a long time gone.
you’ve got your whole life to do something, and that’s not very long.
so why don’t you give me a call when you’re willing to fight
for what you think is real,
for what you think is right?
i’m 99% certain i’m transferring again after this semester. i know. but i want to be somewhere i can actually study the things in which i’m interested. and somewhere with seasons (aka not the south). also, somewhere that gives me money would be nice.
You live, you learn
this entry has the potential to come off as pretentious, just to forewarn you. it’s not meant that way at all.
i’m hardly a conventional beauty… in fact, my beauty is debatable (although, as a certain wise woman who i won’t actually quote because it makes me feel like all kinds of a loser once said… beauty that is debatable is the best kind; it’s often unconventional and far from cookie cutter).
my aspirations are far from the sort that would make most parents proud… not in a shameful sense, but in a “why would you waste your education on something so… unattainable?”
i can be enormously eclectic/distant/difficult to grasp.
there is nary a soul with whom i’ve come in contact more than once in my life whom i have not surprised, which could conceivably be a good or bad thing.
i’m not particularly articulate face to face, but i’ve been told i have a way with words when i wax philosophical in the wee hours of the morning. my rather vast vocabulary has a way of intimidating people who are not so interested in words as i am, and i’m afraid i may come across as condescending when i speak as i like and use the language that comes to me without much thought; at the same time, i feel like i’m talking down to people when i purposefully rein myself in under the assumption that they won’t understand what i’m saying if i use “big words.” language… both english and others… is “my thing”- it comes fairly effortlessly. i don’t say this to “brag”; i’ll be the first to admit that i do, in fact, have to work at math and the sciences.
i don’t always talk much. i’m not shy; i like to listen and if i have nothing to say, i don’t say anything. some interpret this as lack of confidence or friendliness. it’s mostly just introspection; i don’t see the need to become directly involved in conversation or debate if i have nothing valuable to contribute.
i have opinions on plenty of things, but not all of them, and i prefer not to debate those things on which i have no opinion. i believe that opinions are worth very little unless they are informed, and if someone wants to debate or discuss something i know very little about, i don’t like forming an opinion for the sake of having an opinion. i’ll own up to the fact that i’m not particularly familiar with the topic.
i strive for beauty; beauty is to me a way of life, peaceful and accepting, but not passive, informed and passionate and knowledgeable, in touch with yourself and others, creating and evolving and giving everything to become a better person and improve the world around you.
beauty is poetry; life is a poem. i want to be the poem that people don’t necessarily understand the first time they read, but even after just a once over they’re in love. the words don’t always make sense, but the message is clear and lovely; we exist to learn and love and grow and cause each other and the world to do the same.
i’m in a strange mood tonight.
How much is too much?
a little bit of me is terrified every time i realize the people i see every day,
the people who think they know me well, who count me amongst their friends
and whom i count amongst mine…
many of them don’t have a blessed clue in the world;
sometimes they notice if my stress level seems a bit higher than usual
(although it has to be through the roof to be markedly higher than normal)
or if i’m not quite so active in the things in which i used to participate;
the assumption is that i must be working.
and of course, i am… there is a great deal of work to be done, especially now.
not all of it is school work, though. not all of it is the same kind of work
they are confronting on a day to day basis.
maybe some of them are and i just don’t know it, since they don’t seem to notice
that i am not always thrilled to exist even when my work is minimal.
sometimes i am thrilled to exist even when the load is dragging me to my
knees.
i’m not the person everyone thinks i am, and sometimes that’s all right;
some people have the impression that i’m someone i don’t know that i want to be,
and it strikes me as possible that they would no longer “love” me if they knew who i was,
and what i maybe sometimes often never think i want out of life.
simultaneously, there are people who know everything about me,
every nit-picky little detail… and maybe that’s too much.
i am a burden on myself, how can i not be a burden on them?
is it easier to simply share a little of yourself and guard the part
that hurts and frustrates both yourself and others?
is it fair to share or withhold that part from someone who claims
they really care about you?
how much baggage is too much?
Please believe me when I say I’m sorry for that
i frustrate myself either as much or more than i frustrate you,
don’t think you’re the only one i torment daily.
at any given time you see only what i’m projecting, only the ways in which i’m acting out;
in no way can you wrap your mind around what’s going on inside.
sometimes i’m twenty and sometimes i’m jaded well beyond my years,
and i wake every morning not knowing which way the day might go.
it’s frightening feeling so strong and beautiful (synonymous with artistic, in my eyes)
for a while, often short, and flipping around so fast that neither you nor i knows what happened,
and all the sudden i want nothing more than to be held and simultaneously ignored;
i need the comfort of knowing another person is aware of what i’m doing to myself,
and absolutely nothing more.
so please… believe me when i say i’m sorry; i know i’m frustrating.
you’re not the only one i torment.
