okay, so lately i've been thinking a lot about love.
(haven't we all.)
not my own love but just the concept of love. you know, from an anthropological standpoint, the idea of love and how it occurs in people.
i did a lot of 'couple stalking' (which is like people watching, but weirder) this weekend in the city. i saw people who i would think would be... 'over' or 'above' love, being in love!
i watched two gangster-thugs make small chat while holding their women's purses and pretending to care whether or not "this dress shows too much ass."
i watched a tatted, gadged biker man tenderly kiss his girl when they met for brunch, and listen and chime in on stories about her day. (why is it so hard to find people who chime in on things? i'm not talking to you for my HEALTH here, is how i feel about it.)
and it just makes me wonder how people find themselves susceptible to such a fickle emotion.
and what's more, how do people go about it so cavalierly?!
in order to be in love, i feel like conditions have to be just right. both people have to be receptive to affection, open to trust and commitment, dedicated to respectful communication, etc etc etc. which, one would think is just the rarest thing for two compatible souls in the right place for love to find each other.
i've only been in love once. like real, true, head over heels, do anything for you, perfect for each other, i can tell you anything love. just once. and now we're not in love and he's actually in love with and engaged to someone else, which i find to be perfectly okay, but i mean.
some people fall in love a dozen times by age 21.
and i just want to know HOW?
anyway, if there's one thing i learned while couple-stalking and shopping around it's that the only thing i want for in life is a flattering, comfortable, long-er-ish chambray dress. is that so hard to ask??
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
this is a long story about stupid teenaged, angst-y love. enjoy.
american heritage, first semester, freshman year.
while there were more than 400 people in my section, there were maybe 22 people in my weekly lab. i honestly had no interest in getting to know any of them.
my campus routine was always the same.
pull on my shoes, shrug on my backpack, put in my headphones.
walk to class.
if i arrived more than 7 minutes early, i would go to the bathroom or peruse the vending machine until it was appropriately early to go to class.
swing off my backpack, slouch into my desk and wait until class began to wrap up my headphones.
silence for the duration of the class.
bell ring, headphones in, backpack on, out the door.
most of the people in my lab had a similar routine. not many people participated. only two or three students answered questions on a regular basis, and it was generally more out of wanting uncomfortable silences to end and less about having a genuine desire to contribute to the 'discussion.'
once, the grad student who taught our lab asked if anyone could describe the difference between a flat and a progressive tax. silence. i thought of the debate i'd had with a group of guys the night before on the very subject, and as time and silence dragged on, i reluctantly raised my hand.
at the same time, one of the regular-participants also raised his hand, and our instructor sighed and called on him. as i put my hand down, the grad student noticed my movement and cut-off the fellow student with an almost urgent tone.
"michal! did you have your hand raised?!"
"....yes...?"
"oh! please! go ahead! sorry!"
and then i went on to give a very eloquent and riveting answer, i'm sure.
anyway, about a month after the semester ended, i met that very fellow student whose answer i'd stolen.
and a few months after that, i fell in love with him.
it wasn't like weird high school "i love you" after three weeks kind of love. i didn't even actually think it was love at all.
it was like... i never had the urge to touch him. granted, i'm fairly well-known for my aversion to human touch, but still... usually when i'd had interest in a boy, i'd had serious interest in touching them. hand-holding, at the very least. but never with this kid.
i just wanted to be around him all the time. he was smart and interesting and adorably awkward. never-kissed-a-girl-and-probably-wouldn't-be-interested type of awkward and i thought it was all just incredibly charming.
and, because i was kind of intense and overbearing at the sweet age of 19 and he was kind of terrified of women, he freaked out and stopped talking to me so i made out with his room mate who was actually dating my room mate and it was this big stupid mess that kind of ruined my otherwise wonderful freshman experience, which probably isn't the ending you were looking for, but my point is---
for 4 months, i sat next to someone who i still, to this day, wonder about. it's been 4 years, and sometimes i'm still like... what if things had gone differently? you know?
and for those 4 months, i didn't know his name or even look at his face.
and that, my friends, is just the most hilarious case of love-life foreshadowing you could probably find on this earth.
while there were more than 400 people in my section, there were maybe 22 people in my weekly lab. i honestly had no interest in getting to know any of them.
my campus routine was always the same.
pull on my shoes, shrug on my backpack, put in my headphones.
walk to class.
if i arrived more than 7 minutes early, i would go to the bathroom or peruse the vending machine until it was appropriately early to go to class.
swing off my backpack, slouch into my desk and wait until class began to wrap up my headphones.
silence for the duration of the class.
bell ring, headphones in, backpack on, out the door.
most of the people in my lab had a similar routine. not many people participated. only two or three students answered questions on a regular basis, and it was generally more out of wanting uncomfortable silences to end and less about having a genuine desire to contribute to the 'discussion.'
once, the grad student who taught our lab asked if anyone could describe the difference between a flat and a progressive tax. silence. i thought of the debate i'd had with a group of guys the night before on the very subject, and as time and silence dragged on, i reluctantly raised my hand.
at the same time, one of the regular-participants also raised his hand, and our instructor sighed and called on him. as i put my hand down, the grad student noticed my movement and cut-off the fellow student with an almost urgent tone.
"michal! did you have your hand raised?!"
"....yes...?"
"oh! please! go ahead! sorry!"
and then i went on to give a very eloquent and riveting answer, i'm sure.
anyway, about a month after the semester ended, i met that very fellow student whose answer i'd stolen.
and a few months after that, i fell in love with him.
it wasn't like weird high school "i love you" after three weeks kind of love. i didn't even actually think it was love at all.
it was like... i never had the urge to touch him. granted, i'm fairly well-known for my aversion to human touch, but still... usually when i'd had interest in a boy, i'd had serious interest in touching them. hand-holding, at the very least. but never with this kid.
i just wanted to be around him all the time. he was smart and interesting and adorably awkward. never-kissed-a-girl-and-probably-wouldn't-be-interested type of awkward and i thought it was all just incredibly charming.
and, because i was kind of intense and overbearing at the sweet age of 19 and he was kind of terrified of women, he freaked out and stopped talking to me so i made out with his room mate who was actually dating my room mate and it was this big stupid mess that kind of ruined my otherwise wonderful freshman experience, which probably isn't the ending you were looking for, but my point is---
for 4 months, i sat next to someone who i still, to this day, wonder about. it's been 4 years, and sometimes i'm still like... what if things had gone differently? you know?
and for those 4 months, i didn't know his name or even look at his face.
and that, my friends, is just the most hilarious case of love-life foreshadowing you could probably find on this earth.
don't get me wrong, vacations are really, really great. and i needed a vacation, you know? i needed to quit my job and go on a week long vacation--on the water!!--without worrying about anything and knowing that when I return I'll be starting a new job that i'm excited (terrified) about.
that's what i needed.
but also. while i was out there, i couldn't help but feel like i just needed my own bed, and my own space, and my own friends, and a little break from my neurotic self-analysis.
but how do you get a break from your own head?
no amount of distance can give you that.
anyway, i'm back and i'm tan and i really did have a wonderful time, and now i'm going to stress over what i'm going to wear on my first day because worrying about frivolous things like that is easier than worrying about potentially having just made a horrible decision or failing and realizing i've wasted my last 5 years in school on something i am not cut out for.
so my question to you is..... how do you feel about coral and black?
necessity of necessity
i stared helplessly at the neatly folded t-shirts in my drawer. i had nothing left to do.
i had sorted through every last belonging of mine, throwing some things out, stashing others in a large sack for charity, and finding permanent homes for the rest. my linen shelves were methodically organized, towels and sheets in their proper places. my bureau drawers were cleaned out and tidily arranged. the gift wrapping supplies and extra boxes in my coat closet was sorted and tucked away. i had rearranged my dish cabinets 3 times and replaced picture frames, pillows, and furniture. the vacuum had run it's usual course through the apartment several times that week. even the rugs were freshly shaken and cushions recently fluffed.
i'd started spending more time at my aunt's house. she was hopelessly busy and lived in a state of cheerful chaos at all times. i busied myself with video projects and excess laundry, piles of dishes and dirty windows. i worked my way through the family, curling hair and applying make-up, trailing behind and holding extra clothing during family pictures.
i found friends with tired bodies and precious children to babysit for, neighbors struggling to prepare for extended vacations, co-workers with impossible love lives.
the time eventually came that i was not needed.
i had nothing to do. i had nothing that needed to be done, and no one that needed me.
i hadn't heard from my sister in weeks.
i had caught her tucking away pictures of dresses, rings, and flowers. it seemed "a year" was no longer the plan, and she hadn't breathed a word of it to me.
she usually didn't talk to me when she was happy. she didn't need me when she was happy.
i hadn't heard from the rest of my family much, either, except for the occasional text message from my mom. she was working double-shifts at the diner and i could hear in her voice that she was exhausted, but more content than she had been in a while. she needed the job at the diner.
but she didn't need me.
not even my office needed me. they knew it, i knew it, my co-workers knew it. i wasn't valuable to the company, which made me less motivated, pushing my necessity further down the scale. i was filling space, and occasional conversation, and that was about it.
tracing my hands over the folds of clothing in the drawer, my mind drifted to a time when i was needed. wanted. thought-of, at the very least.
it wasn't a pleasant experience.
yet, here i was, feeling unneeded and wishing someone would call me with a crisis so i could feel some type of purpose once again.
memorial day weekend
This is going to be one of those real-life posts, for anyone who cares what I do with my time. (mom.)
ps i took zero pictures of the weekend because i suck, but imagine some really great photos of really exciting things, okay?
my cousin is leaving for his mission to Wellington, New Zealand in a week, and so this weekend mostly revolved around his farewell festivities.
the thing is that lately, i've been getting really anxious in large groups? am i a thousand years old? so saturday's luau celebration found me in the basement, reading and hiding from throngs of people who i've met several times, but don't recognize me, and later insist that they do in fact remember me ("oh, yes, you used to have red hair!")
and the sunday morning family brunch found me napping because, i mean, 50 people to whom i'm distantly related is just a little much to handle for my poor, stress-riddled body.
church had easily 500 crammed into one chapel and it was uncomfortably warm and unreasonably long and unexpectedly emotional.
luckily, there was a post-luau-and-brunch wreckage for me to come back to, and cleaning just really eases my nerves, did you know that? i spent a good 3 hours cleaning and slept for two hours and felt a million times better.
monday morning brought on yet another crowd as the memorial day breakfast up the canyon commenced. i was feeling resolved of the anxiety from the previous few days, but also had an upset stomach so i still couldn't quite enjoy myself because i live my life in crisis mode, and so.
after breakfast we went back and just hung by the pool for like 4 hours. the weather was beautiful and i split my time between basking and reading Great Gatsby (walking cliche right here, i know, i know) and playing pool volleyball.
then we had the genius idea to ride bikes up to maui chill, because who doesn't love 50% off frozen yogurt (except it ended up being 20% off frozen yogurt, but even 0% off frozen yogurt is worth the trip, am i right?) and i'll tell you, beach cruisers in a sundress and sandals are wonderful for beach cruising, but not so much for 2-mile rides up treacherous hills. my body is still hurting.
and also i don't believe in sunscreen.
and also also, all of these events took place at my aunts house, and i wasn't home all weekend, so when i came back at 9 pm last night, i set out on a mission to clean. i'm getting rid of huge trashbags full of clothes and deep cleaning out every drawer and shelf in my house, and i'm just feeling less and less stressed by the second.
so, if you ever need anything cleaned, what i'm saying is that it would really just be my pleasure.
ps i took zero pictures of the weekend because i suck, but imagine some really great photos of really exciting things, okay?
my cousin is leaving for his mission to Wellington, New Zealand in a week, and so this weekend mostly revolved around his farewell festivities.
the thing is that lately, i've been getting really anxious in large groups? am i a thousand years old? so saturday's luau celebration found me in the basement, reading and hiding from throngs of people who i've met several times, but don't recognize me, and later insist that they do in fact remember me ("oh, yes, you used to have red hair!")
and the sunday morning family brunch found me napping because, i mean, 50 people to whom i'm distantly related is just a little much to handle for my poor, stress-riddled body.
church had easily 500 crammed into one chapel and it was uncomfortably warm and unreasonably long and unexpectedly emotional.
luckily, there was a post-luau-and-brunch wreckage for me to come back to, and cleaning just really eases my nerves, did you know that? i spent a good 3 hours cleaning and slept for two hours and felt a million times better.
monday morning brought on yet another crowd as the memorial day breakfast up the canyon commenced. i was feeling resolved of the anxiety from the previous few days, but also had an upset stomach so i still couldn't quite enjoy myself because i live my life in crisis mode, and so.
after breakfast we went back and just hung by the pool for like 4 hours. the weather was beautiful and i split my time between basking and reading Great Gatsby (walking cliche right here, i know, i know) and playing pool volleyball.
then we had the genius idea to ride bikes up to maui chill, because who doesn't love 50% off frozen yogurt (except it ended up being 20% off frozen yogurt, but even 0% off frozen yogurt is worth the trip, am i right?) and i'll tell you, beach cruisers in a sundress and sandals are wonderful for beach cruising, but not so much for 2-mile rides up treacherous hills. my body is still hurting.
and also i don't believe in sunscreen.
and also also, all of these events took place at my aunts house, and i wasn't home all weekend, so when i came back at 9 pm last night, i set out on a mission to clean. i'm getting rid of huge trashbags full of clothes and deep cleaning out every drawer and shelf in my house, and i'm just feeling less and less stressed by the second.
so, if you ever need anything cleaned, what i'm saying is that it would really just be my pleasure.
my mother found our first piano at a garage sale when i was 7 years old.
the beat-up, upright piano had spent the majority of it's life in a saloon. the keys were yellowed and chipped, the stench of nicotine had seeped itself permanently into the body. it hadn't been tuned in years, and it's bench had long since been thrown out.
from the moment i saw it in our house, i was completely enamored.
sometimes, after i'd been put to bed, but before i'd fallen asleep, my mom would play. i can just imagine her, taking a few moments to herself, fingers gliding over the keys, eyes closed, lost in memories and pensive introspection. i distinctly remember feeling so peaceful and safe as moonlight sonata drifted up the stairs and rocked me to sleep.
after a few months of lessons, i knew i wanted to play forever. i wrote my grandfather a letter, asking him for the sheet music to fur elise. he sent me his own personal copy, yellowed and ripping, taped together, notes scrawled across the margins.
my father once sat me on his lap as my mother played the piece in the other room. he told me to close his eyes and describe the music i was hearing. the two of us listened to the song over and over, talking about ballerinas and magic and trying to articulate music in a way that can't truly be done.... but it's the greatest thing to try.
i want a piano in my future home. i want to play canon in d, which is my favorite song in the world, or clair de lune, which is my second favorite. i hope my kids are still awake as i plunk out the tunes that will hopefully instill in them a sense of peace and safety, and stick in their minds as a special memory, just as my mother's playing has for me.
the beat-up, upright piano had spent the majority of it's life in a saloon. the keys were yellowed and chipped, the stench of nicotine had seeped itself permanently into the body. it hadn't been tuned in years, and it's bench had long since been thrown out.
from the moment i saw it in our house, i was completely enamored.
sometimes, after i'd been put to bed, but before i'd fallen asleep, my mom would play. i can just imagine her, taking a few moments to herself, fingers gliding over the keys, eyes closed, lost in memories and pensive introspection. i distinctly remember feeling so peaceful and safe as moonlight sonata drifted up the stairs and rocked me to sleep.
after a few months of lessons, i knew i wanted to play forever. i wrote my grandfather a letter, asking him for the sheet music to fur elise. he sent me his own personal copy, yellowed and ripping, taped together, notes scrawled across the margins.
my father once sat me on his lap as my mother played the piece in the other room. he told me to close his eyes and describe the music i was hearing. the two of us listened to the song over and over, talking about ballerinas and magic and trying to articulate music in a way that can't truly be done.... but it's the greatest thing to try.
i want a piano in my future home. i want to play canon in d, which is my favorite song in the world, or clair de lune, which is my second favorite. i hope my kids are still awake as i plunk out the tunes that will hopefully instill in them a sense of peace and safety, and stick in their minds as a special memory, just as my mother's playing has for me.
did you know that the voice of Mickey Mouse and the voice of Minnie Mouse got married in real life?
and the honest truth of it is that i've never not been late for anything, ever.
and i have mega OCD. like, leave the shower curtain closed, put the bar stools in the right order, make sure the coffee table is exactly 4.5 inches from the end of the area rug type of OCD.
and i'm particular with friendships. like, give me one reason to think maybe you and i will not be best friends for ever and ever and that's it, i'm gone, ship's sailed---you get it.
i think i'm an easy person to love, but i'm a hard person to keep loving.
which is my own fault, or maybe my own choice, but did you know that otters hold hands while they're sleeping to keep from floating away from each other?
so... i guess what i'm trying to say is that i'm working on it.
and the honest truth of it is that i've never not been late for anything, ever.
and i have mega OCD. like, leave the shower curtain closed, put the bar stools in the right order, make sure the coffee table is exactly 4.5 inches from the end of the area rug type of OCD.
and i'm particular with friendships. like, give me one reason to think maybe you and i will not be best friends for ever and ever and that's it, i'm gone, ship's sailed---you get it.
i think i'm an easy person to love, but i'm a hard person to keep loving.
which is my own fault, or maybe my own choice, but did you know that otters hold hands while they're sleeping to keep from floating away from each other?
so... i guess what i'm trying to say is that i'm working on it.
my engine rumbled idly and heat rasped through the vents, warming my icy fingers.
the rain wasn't heavy enough to splatter the windshield in fat, lazy melancholy like i'd hoped. instead, small drops sharply darted toward the glass like feathered quills. i watched as they formed tiny tributaries, occasionally conjoining flows at acute angles.
the whole scene went blurry as my attention caught inside my own head. that had been happening a lot lately. life would go slightly out of focus as my thoughts consumed my present.
questions swam around, just beyond my visions reach. wordless questions, questions i couldn't quite articulate. my head was just in an abstract state of loss and confusion.
questions without foundation, like "can i keep this up forever?" or "where am i supposed to be?"
questions with no answers, like "when will my head break surface?"
ever-present and all-encompassing questions, like "why?" or worse, "how?"
and then the light turned green. a car horn barked from behind me and i was sucked, in one startling fell swoop, back to reality. back to the rain, the road.
and life--real life--resumed like normal.
the most important lesson i've learned in my four years at an accredited university is that you should always buy your books on amazon
to say i did not cry in the byu bookstore today would be the truth.
to say i did not pause to pretend i was texting while i regained my composure is a different story.
i just hope that they enjoy the eighty-five dollars they are keeping from me, while i enjoy yet another dinner of canned kidney beans, because i cannot afford groceries right now, and recently discovered allergy-induced exclusions from my dietary habits preclude me from eating ramen.
(was that the most collegiate sentence you've ever heard?)
the second most important lesson i've learned here is that the size of my age is inversely proportionate to the caliber of my social skills.
and also that i suck at math.
to say i did not pause to pretend i was texting while i regained my composure is a different story.
i just hope that they enjoy the eighty-five dollars they are keeping from me, while i enjoy yet another dinner of canned kidney beans, because i cannot afford groceries right now, and recently discovered allergy-induced exclusions from my dietary habits preclude me from eating ramen.
(was that the most collegiate sentence you've ever heard?)
the second most important lesson i've learned here is that the size of my age is inversely proportionate to the caliber of my social skills.
and also that i suck at math.
on new years resolutions
note: this is a little bit personal. in the spirit of getting healthy, i've been told to share.
so, here's to sharing in 2013.
ever since i was thirteen, i have been sick.
let's say i've had the flu.
so, here's to sharing in 2013.
ever since i was thirteen, i have been sick.
let's say i've had the flu.
friday song
when you're alone,
do you ever stomp your feet
just to hear the impact you're having on the world?
sometimes, he says things to me that make my heart skip a beat.
a small stutter in the otherwise constant rhythm.
and for one small moment, that tiny moment when my heart is stammering, that's where i'm most vulnerable. the walls around my soul are momentarily weakened, and i'm penetrated, changed.
it's those tiny moments of vulnerability that are overriding days upon weeks of logical thinking.
everyone asks me "why? why him?"
and i just say "I KNOW, okay? I know. I don't know why."
but it's because, sometimes, he makes my heart skip a beat.
and when my heart is fluttering, unable to maintain the wall, he settles himself in just a little deeper.
that's why.
but i realized something today.
he makes my heart skip. but then it resumes its rhythm, the walls go back up.
my heart doesn't want him in there. it's doing its best to push him out.
it's not going to be the person that makes my heart skip a beat that i'll spend my life with.
it will be the person who makes my heart stop.
a small stutter in the otherwise constant rhythm.
and for one small moment, that tiny moment when my heart is stammering, that's where i'm most vulnerable. the walls around my soul are momentarily weakened, and i'm penetrated, changed.
it's those tiny moments of vulnerability that are overriding days upon weeks of logical thinking.
everyone asks me "why? why him?"
and i just say "I KNOW, okay? I know. I don't know why."
but it's because, sometimes, he makes my heart skip a beat.
and when my heart is fluttering, unable to maintain the wall, he settles himself in just a little deeper.
that's why.
but i realized something today.
he makes my heart skip. but then it resumes its rhythm, the walls go back up.
my heart doesn't want him in there. it's doing its best to push him out.
it's not going to be the person that makes my heart skip a beat that i'll spend my life with.
it will be the person who makes my heart stop.
thanks to the 7 people that read my blog today, because i have 4,444 pageviews right now, and that's something to celebrate
i remember the first time that i met him, the boy of my affections as of late.
let me tell you, i did not like him.
and then, we started talking more. lunch breaks and the like.
did not like him.
hanging out and smooching up a storm.
really did not like him.
then along came the ex-boy of my affections to rock my world and all that i knew to be true.
so i kept the boy i did not like around. as a buffer between me and the ex.
then we started going on real-life dates and having real-life talks. guys, i shaved his back.
still... didn't like him.
and then, one day, i found out that he was dating someone else. (why does this keep happening, i mean really! a girl can only handle so much infidelity!)
and then, i liked him. nay, loved him! i wanted him around me every second, to have and to hold and to make children with! heaven help me, CHILDREN!
and now i feel like i'm in some fight for my life for the man that i love, the father of my children, and my question to you is--
do i only want him because he isn't mine?
i wonder.
let me tell you, i did not like him.
and then, we started talking more. lunch breaks and the like.
did not like him.
hanging out and smooching up a storm.
really did not like him.
then along came the ex-boy of my affections to rock my world and all that i knew to be true.
so i kept the boy i did not like around. as a buffer between me and the ex.
then we started going on real-life dates and having real-life talks. guys, i shaved his back.
still... didn't like him.
and then, one day, i found out that he was dating someone else. (why does this keep happening, i mean really! a girl can only handle so much infidelity!)
and then, i liked him. nay, loved him! i wanted him around me every second, to have and to hold and to make children with! heaven help me, CHILDREN!
and now i feel like i'm in some fight for my life for the man that i love, the father of my children, and my question to you is--
do i only want him because he isn't mine?
i wonder.
on being happy now
i went on a few more hikes this weekend. but, i mean, are you surprised?
i'm going to be perfectly honest with you when i tell you about my experience this weekend.
not the experience of discovering our copy of coco before the chanel was in french, or how that made it all the more beautiful. not the experience of seeing deer in their natural habitat and almost getting eaten by a cougar. not even the experience of trying to hug my visiting teach-ee and stepping on her toe and tripping over her rug and being that most awkward toucher that i am.
after all of that.
i found myself lying in bed, watching jersey shore. (judge me, i deserve it.)
and i looked at the clock. it was approximately 6:15 pm.
and i thought to myself i wish it were 4 hours later so i could just go to bed.
is that the worst thing you've ever heard?! i couldn't find one thing in this world that would be more interesting to do with the next 4 hours of my life than watching jersey shore, racking a reality-show-head-ache, and counting down the minutes until it would be socially acceptable to go to bed.
as soon as i had this thought, i hated myself. i chastised myself. how dare you! there are beautiful mountains to explore, drives to embark upon, people to meet! you'll never have these next 4 hours of your life again, and you just want to SKIP them!?
that's when i realized. this whole time, i've been living my life under the mentality of "i'll be happy when..." when... i move out. i have more friends. i have a boyfriend. i have children. blabitty blabitty blah.
the other day, i was discussing with a friend how i've always had something to be sad about. i've always looked forward to the next chapter in my life. and i've ALWAYS looked backwards and thought "i really miss those days."
i'm working on pinpointing the parts of my life now that i'll miss later on. that i'll look back on and think "that was fun" or "why didn't i take advantage of that?" or "if only i could go back to that time." if i can identify them now, then i won't be disappointed later that i didn't fully appreciate what i had.
i won't feel like "i'll be happy when..." instead, i'm trying live my life with the mentality that "i'll be happy now."
so i picked up my lazy ass and went on a night hike with some friends. and it was freezing and not totally worth the drive, but it was adventurous and it obviously beats jersey shore.
i decided that i've been acting sad because i think i'm supposed to be sad.
and i'm kind of a weird and depressing person that holds on to reasons to be sad for far too long, because i think i should.
but the truth is that... i'm not sad. i'm not! say what you will, but i'm not all that sad.
so i'm just going to be happy, i guess.
i mean, frown lines are no joke.
and i'm kind of a weird and depressing person that holds on to reasons to be sad for far too long, because i think i should.
but the truth is that... i'm not sad. i'm not! say what you will, but i'm not all that sad.
so i'm just going to be happy, i guess.
i mean, frown lines are no joke.
relationships are only as hard as you make them
i take things personally.
i'd like to say that i don't, but i do. i've accepted it. moving on.
for a few weird months, i dated a guy who made jokes at my expense. not "har har you're an idiot" jokes, but jokes that made me feel worthless, ugly, and unimportant.
and he would tell me "you have got to stop taking everything so personally."
and i would think you have got to stop being an ass hole.
so we sat, stagnant, in this constant struggle between who was being normal and who was actually flawed.
it felt like...we were puzzle pieces. and it looked like we would fit and sometimes it felt like we would fit. but when it got down to it, we were grinding at each others corners, trying to alter the others shape to fit our own.
who really needed to be reshaped? who really needed to change?
i realize now that it was both of us, a little bit. but mostly neither of us. he is the way he is, i am the way i am. we have personality traits that are... extreme, in some ways, but they aren't bad. neither of us were broken, neither of us were wrong. we were just wrong for each other.
he's going to find someone with the sanctifying quality of being tough skinned, and i'm going to find someone with a kinder sense of humor. then, no one will have to change. we'll just fit.
i mean, puzzles are only as hard as you make them.
our renters painted it white.
as i walked down the hall toward the open door, i thought "i don't even recognize this room. this isn't really even my room anymore."
but then, i walked in, and the smell...
the smell.
it smells the same. after a year of me being gone, and a stranger inhabiting my space, my room still smells the same.
it's like the 9 years of life that i spent in that room have made their place there. the memories have seeped into the walls, settled themselves into the corners.
it smells a little like sun-warmed carpet, clean sheets, and notebook paper.
you'd think that i'd spend my time dwelling on the big things that happened in that room. the tears and the sex and the drugs.
but the first thing i thought of was sitting on the edge of my bed and facing my window, shutters open, window cracked, feeling the mixed sensation of the warm sun streaming through the glass and the cool breeze sneaking through the screen. not feeling any particular emotion or thinking any particular thought or looking in any particular direction. just sitting, and being.
and then i thought of laying of the floor, belly down, pen in mouth, reading my american history book.
and then i thought of standing around with my friends, and molly acting like a political adviser as my dog stood at the window, looking very presidential indeed.
and then i thought of early mornings styling my hair, and late nights jumping on my bed to the beat of "mmmbop" and the glow of my lava lamp while drifting off to sleep.
the time that i spent in my room was probably the most significant time in my life. because it was my in-between time, my alone time. the time where i was just completely myself, because no one was watching me. that's where i got ready, wound-down, cried, laughed, wrote, and just was. felt the breeze and the sun and left myself completely in the moment because i didn't have anything to think about or do.
those are the memories i have in my room.
and as i left the house, i realized that... i wasn't as sad as i thought i would be. driving away from the place that knew me best, knowing i would never go there again.
and the fact that i wasn't sad made me sad. i knew that i was moving on from a significant time in my life.
that's always hard, you know?
the life i almost had; a narration of the last four years of my life
it's 4:30 am and i can't sleep.
my insomnia has, of course, led me to catching up on the lives of old friends. i've gone through all my core friend groups from the last 5-ish years of my life, just to see where i'd be if i would have just picked one group and stuck with it.
here's what i've come up with.
i started at byu just more than 4 years ago.
my first year was spent exactly right. i lived in the dorms and ate at the cannon center and went to the dances and attended church every sunday and made cookies for boys in my ward. i even tanked my first semester like every normal college student (NOT normal for byu, but listen... college is hard, beer or not, okay?)
for the first semester of my second year, i lived at home. i blamed it on the fact that one of my dearest friends from high school had a brain tumor, and i wanted to be close to her. and that was... partially true.
but if i'm being honest, like completely honest with myself, it was because the last few weeks of my first year didn't go so well socially. and it was absolutely my fault, i have no way of getting around that. i made some decisions that lost me some very strong relationships and i don't know if i'll ever really get over that.
but anyway, i never looked for an apartment or did any kind of serious thinking that involved moving back to provo. secret? i haven't been back to provo since then. i mean obviously i've been there, but i haven't moved back or even really spent significant time there that wasn't on campus. i can't explain it, something about provo gives me anxiety.
the second semester of my second year, i moved out with my best friend. we'd known each other since jr high and she had never moved out and i didn't want to go anywhere without a security blanket that came in the form of a relationship that i could probably never ruin if i tried, so we moved to orem. close enough?
and i lived this semester trying to do all the things right, but not really. we kind of socialized, we went to maybe 40% of the church that we were supposed to, and my job became more important to me than my school. and, while in the long run i think living with my best friend ultimately strengthened my relationship with her, it was kind of hard at the time. we had small fights that mostly consisted of not speaking for days, and she came back to the apartment maybe 3 nights a week, and i developed a kind of social depression that found its way into my life by way of gossip girl reruns and cadbury eggs--which were the reason my adventures in veganism ended.
--oh yeah, i tried veganism. so far, i've tried the typical provo-byu college lifestyle, the granola-y vegan "phase" college lifestyle, and the working-more-than-schooling college lifestyle.
it was at the end of my second year that my mom was checked into a hospital and then my parents were separated for some time. i could probably use more discretion in this subject, but it is what it is. my dad asked me to move home to help take care of the family. my mom was gone, my dad was a wreck, my sister just avoided being home at all costs, so i was just kind of there. pretending to hold everyone together.
it's important that i say here that i used to blame my proceeding life choices on this phase in my life. while they did play a huge role in things that were to come, i made my own choices. i had my own desires. when presented with the same opportunities that i was, under different circumstances, it's likely that i would have made the same decisions.
after my mom moved back home, i moved to my aunts house. i kind of wish that i never would have done that because it did some serious damage in a lot of my relationships, but it was a necessary step.
it was here that i met bryson.
i moved back home after a few months and started school. the day before school started, bryson and i started a little adventure that turned into a year-long relationship. that entire school year was spent in a whirlwind of mistakes. my parents were completely checked out. they spent basically the entire year in their bedroom trying to sort things out, and my sister and i got away with everything. it was during this one year of my life that i made every serious mistake i've probably ever made.
there's not really much more to say about that school year. i did worse that year than my first semester, probably because i wasn't sober for most of it. i also fell in love that year.
the summer after my third year at byu, i was completely in love with someone and i was prepared to marry him. well, i thought i was prepared to marry him. i laugh at that now, but anyway. he cheated on me, so i told him to never speak to me again, and that was that.
moving on.
my parents moved to colorado this summer, and it should be clear by now that i'm a person who was/is socially unfit for roommates, etc. so, after bouncing around from couch to couch for a few weeks, i moved in with my cousin, who owns a house and lives alone, and continued to live out of boxes. i stayed there for an entire semester, which i took off of school. i had just started a new job, ended a serious relationship, and really came into my problem with substances.
i like to think that it's my relationship with bryson that gave me a substance-abuse problem, but it was really the time after things ended that it was truly an issue. while we were together, i was still mostly just experimenting. it's afterwards that i started trying harder drugs and drinking more and slutting around like a real-life college student.
then one day, i decided to grow up. i moved out into my own apartment, BY MYSELF, and went back to school part time. i tried sobriety and church for two months, and then mike happened. well, nothing really happened, but it was just kind of the principle behind the whole situation, and also ashlee came back into the picture at the same time, so how could i not have returned to my life of narcotics?
right?
so i was back to smoking and drinking and pill popping, mostly on the weekends. or when i wanted to go jogging.
and then my sister moved in with me. (for those who have made it this far, we're in the summer after my fourth year at byu, aka a few months ago.)
my sister has many more friends than i do, and they mostly all have a substance problem, too. we thought we were so sophisticated, with wine parties on the deck and hot boxes in the bathroom, but really, i was just falling further into my habit of denial and anti-socialism. only hanging out with my sisters friends? and being that weird stoner older sister that always gets the kids high?
that was me.
and now..... well. it's only been a few weeks of sobriety for me. and it takes every last ounce of energy and focus not to fall back on old habits.
speaking of old habits, i've rekindled a friendship with bryson. we go to institute together and try to keep each other sober and it's weird. that's all i have to say because i'm trying not to think about it too much, or i'll probably get freaked out and never talk to him again. but it's been good and i'm happy so, no more thinking!
ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY!
i could have lived the provo lifestyle. i could have gone from the dorms, to liberty square, to king henry, where i'd probably still be. except i'd probably be graduated, actually. because i'm into my fifth year now. and i still have a year to go. all those semesters off... shoot.
in any case, what i'm trying to say is that... i always kind of hated the provo lifestyle. i thought it was stupid and fluffy and annoying.
and now, i just have this overwhelming feeling that i need to abandon the life i've set up for myself, the apartment that i've spent the last 10 months furnishing and establishing, and i need to get room mates. and go to church. and hike the fucking Y. and probably stop saying fuck.
except that i know i can't back track, so.. now i'm just feeling stuck. i'm feeling old and sad and overwhelmed by the lives i could have lived.
hopefully, i'll figure out what life i'm supposed to live soon, so that i can get to it. i don't want to feel this regretful hindsight feeling ever again.
if you made it to the end of this post, please leave your name and address so i can send you a thousand dollars.
my insomnia has, of course, led me to catching up on the lives of old friends. i've gone through all my core friend groups from the last 5-ish years of my life, just to see where i'd be if i would have just picked one group and stuck with it.
here's what i've come up with.
a picture from each summer of the last four years.
i started at byu just more than 4 years ago.
my first year was spent exactly right. i lived in the dorms and ate at the cannon center and went to the dances and attended church every sunday and made cookies for boys in my ward. i even tanked my first semester like every normal college student (NOT normal for byu, but listen... college is hard, beer or not, okay?)
for the first semester of my second year, i lived at home. i blamed it on the fact that one of my dearest friends from high school had a brain tumor, and i wanted to be close to her. and that was... partially true.
but if i'm being honest, like completely honest with myself, it was because the last few weeks of my first year didn't go so well socially. and it was absolutely my fault, i have no way of getting around that. i made some decisions that lost me some very strong relationships and i don't know if i'll ever really get over that.
but anyway, i never looked for an apartment or did any kind of serious thinking that involved moving back to provo. secret? i haven't been back to provo since then. i mean obviously i've been there, but i haven't moved back or even really spent significant time there that wasn't on campus. i can't explain it, something about provo gives me anxiety.
the second semester of my second year, i moved out with my best friend. we'd known each other since jr high and she had never moved out and i didn't want to go anywhere without a security blanket that came in the form of a relationship that i could probably never ruin if i tried, so we moved to orem. close enough?
and i lived this semester trying to do all the things right, but not really. we kind of socialized, we went to maybe 40% of the church that we were supposed to, and my job became more important to me than my school. and, while in the long run i think living with my best friend ultimately strengthened my relationship with her, it was kind of hard at the time. we had small fights that mostly consisted of not speaking for days, and she came back to the apartment maybe 3 nights a week, and i developed a kind of social depression that found its way into my life by way of gossip girl reruns and cadbury eggs--which were the reason my adventures in veganism ended.
--oh yeah, i tried veganism. so far, i've tried the typical provo-byu college lifestyle, the granola-y vegan "phase" college lifestyle, and the working-more-than-schooling college lifestyle.
it was at the end of my second year that my mom was checked into a hospital and then my parents were separated for some time. i could probably use more discretion in this subject, but it is what it is. my dad asked me to move home to help take care of the family. my mom was gone, my dad was a wreck, my sister just avoided being home at all costs, so i was just kind of there. pretending to hold everyone together.
it's important that i say here that i used to blame my proceeding life choices on this phase in my life. while they did play a huge role in things that were to come, i made my own choices. i had my own desires. when presented with the same opportunities that i was, under different circumstances, it's likely that i would have made the same decisions.
after my mom moved back home, i moved to my aunts house. i kind of wish that i never would have done that because it did some serious damage in a lot of my relationships, but it was a necessary step.
it was here that i met bryson.
i moved back home after a few months and started school. the day before school started, bryson and i started a little adventure that turned into a year-long relationship. that entire school year was spent in a whirlwind of mistakes. my parents were completely checked out. they spent basically the entire year in their bedroom trying to sort things out, and my sister and i got away with everything. it was during this one year of my life that i made every serious mistake i've probably ever made.
there's not really much more to say about that school year. i did worse that year than my first semester, probably because i wasn't sober for most of it. i also fell in love that year.
the summer after my third year at byu, i was completely in love with someone and i was prepared to marry him. well, i thought i was prepared to marry him. i laugh at that now, but anyway. he cheated on me, so i told him to never speak to me again, and that was that.
moving on.
my parents moved to colorado this summer, and it should be clear by now that i'm a person who was/is socially unfit for roommates, etc. so, after bouncing around from couch to couch for a few weeks, i moved in with my cousin, who owns a house and lives alone, and continued to live out of boxes. i stayed there for an entire semester, which i took off of school. i had just started a new job, ended a serious relationship, and really came into my problem with substances.
i like to think that it's my relationship with bryson that gave me a substance-abuse problem, but it was really the time after things ended that it was truly an issue. while we were together, i was still mostly just experimenting. it's afterwards that i started trying harder drugs and drinking more and slutting around like a real-life college student.
then one day, i decided to grow up. i moved out into my own apartment, BY MYSELF, and went back to school part time. i tried sobriety and church for two months, and then mike happened. well, nothing really happened, but it was just kind of the principle behind the whole situation, and also ashlee came back into the picture at the same time, so how could i not have returned to my life of narcotics?
right?
so i was back to smoking and drinking and pill popping, mostly on the weekends. or when i wanted to go jogging.
and then my sister moved in with me. (for those who have made it this far, we're in the summer after my fourth year at byu, aka a few months ago.)
my sister has many more friends than i do, and they mostly all have a substance problem, too. we thought we were so sophisticated, with wine parties on the deck and hot boxes in the bathroom, but really, i was just falling further into my habit of denial and anti-socialism. only hanging out with my sisters friends? and being that weird stoner older sister that always gets the kids high?
that was me.
and now..... well. it's only been a few weeks of sobriety for me. and it takes every last ounce of energy and focus not to fall back on old habits.
speaking of old habits, i've rekindled a friendship with bryson. we go to institute together and try to keep each other sober and it's weird. that's all i have to say because i'm trying not to think about it too much, or i'll probably get freaked out and never talk to him again. but it's been good and i'm happy so, no more thinking!
ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY!
i could have lived the provo lifestyle. i could have gone from the dorms, to liberty square, to king henry, where i'd probably still be. except i'd probably be graduated, actually. because i'm into my fifth year now. and i still have a year to go. all those semesters off... shoot.
in any case, what i'm trying to say is that... i always kind of hated the provo lifestyle. i thought it was stupid and fluffy and annoying.
and now, i just have this overwhelming feeling that i need to abandon the life i've set up for myself, the apartment that i've spent the last 10 months furnishing and establishing, and i need to get room mates. and go to church. and hike the fucking Y. and probably stop saying fuck.
except that i know i can't back track, so.. now i'm just feeling stuck. i'm feeling old and sad and overwhelmed by the lives i could have lived.
hopefully, i'll figure out what life i'm supposed to live soon, so that i can get to it. i don't want to feel this regretful hindsight feeling ever again.
if you made it to the end of this post, please leave your name and address so i can send you a thousand dollars.
stranger hands
i remember his hands the most.
so strong. rough and scarred, capable hands.
and i remember him as an extension of his hands. he was rugged, strong, big and protective. i always felt safe in his arms.
but my memory fails me.
because, seeing him now, he's not his hands.
he's not as tall, or brawny, or attractive as i remember.
he's just a boy.
it's funny how we idealize the people in our memories. we're just setting them up for failure in our minds, aren't we? we immortalize some people in our minds, hone in on those specific details that then branch out to materialize the rest of the person in our memory.
and then... they're not what we remember.
he's not what i remember. he's just a boy.
and maybe to him, i'm just a girl.
regardless, we're strangers to one another.
strangers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)