I would, under normal circumstances, begin with an apology for not posting for so long. Since no one reads this anyway, I guess it doesn't really matter and is more a sort of protocol with me.
These, however, are not normal circumstances.
As far as I can tell, nothing about college is normal.
--
The point of this post is to write about where I would spread my ashes. I know that I am going to be cremated, because it is a Hindu tradition/ritual/part of the death rites. Besides the religious aspect, however, I'd like to be cremated because it is the most sanitary form of death. When people bury the dead six feet into the ground it makes me think of how awful it is for the earth; the coffins don't disintegrate for years upon years, and I mean really, digging holes into the ground? There are 6.5 billion people in the world. I really don't think there are enough holes in the ground for all of us, and I, personally, do not want to "bunk" with someone else into the afterlife. Anyway, I think cremation is just more sanitary when it comes to people who had a disease. How much would it suck to get pneumonia after burying someone? Damn.
I wouldn't want my ashes to be cooped up in an urn, though. I'd rather have them floating about somewhere, part of the dust that travels the earth. Although this, too, is pretty weird, think about how much dust there is in the world. Dust is 99% dead skin cells. That's disgusting. I don't want to think about it. I'd rather have my ashes scattered in a remote place so that I'm not being vacuumed up in someone's house, you know what I mean?
I tried to decide on a place where I would most like to have my ashes scattered, and I think I'd really like them to be scattered from a) the Cape of Good Hope or b)off this cliff that overlooks the Pacific on a beach in Australia (we visited it when we went on a family vacation to stay with my mom's brother). The reason I would like to be flung to the wind from one of these two places is because they are, quite frankly, some of the most beautiful places in the world. I don't want to ruin or deface these places, I just want the people scattering my ashes to see them. A once in a lifetime opportunity: see a spectacular sight and say goodbye to an _________ (old friend, enemy, etc.).
I hope other people give this some thought. It makes me angry when people banter about the phrase "It's what s/he would have wanted." IS IT? Did said person tell you that? People who don't prepare for the aftermath of their death are somewhat selfish, I think. Your dying is just a natural progression in the cycle of life. It's what happens after your death that matters, I think. When I die I would hope that someone would know exactly what to do. Maybe I ought to leave written instructions, and that may make me either highly uptight and creepy trying to control things from the grave (not literally, as we've just discussed) or make me an innovative and caring person.
And atop the cliff or large boulder at my choice for scattering, I hope someone has a boombox and plays... (I have two choices here: I could go with something funny, like "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred, and make it like "I'm too sexy... for this life" or I could be half-way serious and choose "Colors of the Wind" from the Pocohantas soundtrack, or fully serious and say a song that I've always loved about a non-resident Indian going back to his homeland)
I guess that's up to the person who scatters my ashes. Here's to hoping it's not Kelly Clarkson!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
I danced in the rain today.
The thunderstorm was gorgeous. I don't know if you had a chance to look outside and enjoy it, but if you didn't, you missed out. It was a miracle from Nature. I like thunderstorms. I don't usually like rain, because I think I have SAD and when it's rainy and cloudy I usually get into a funk and kind of a depressed mood. I like thunderstorms, though. They're intense and engaging. Soothing, too.
I stepped outside the front door, onto our "porch" as it were. I had my iPod, of course, as if the noise from the thunderstorm weren't enough. "Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer came on. Good song. I sat, for a while. I thought, for a while.
I'm not really sad, you know? I guess it just hasn't it me yet. I'm not nostalgic, yet, and I don't know that I will be in the way that I thought I would be--I realize that all of the hundreds of people that I know... well, they're great, but they probably won't remember me. I'll keep in touch with some of the good ones, even some of the unexpected ones, but the rest will fade away into the fabric of my past. So it goes.
The wind picked up and it started to rain - big, fat, heavy raindrops. "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield came on.
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
I really like this song. I got up. I reached out my arms, and felt a few of the raindrops. I looked up, to see the lightning streak across the sky. I started dancing.
I danced along my sidewalk and into my driveway, I danced past my driveway into the cul-de-sac, and onto the sidewalk in the neighbors' house. I danced in the middle of the street.
The rain was pouring down and I looked up at the sky and my glasses were covered in the big, fat raindrops. I couldn't see, but somehow I still could. My glasses became a kaleidescope. The streetlights have never looked more enchanting. I laughed, and sang as loudly (and as well - or poorly) as I could.
"Ordinary People" by John Legend came on. This is another favorite.
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow
I sang along, and thought about "it." Him, I guess, is more appropriate. There is no more "him" because now it's more of a concept than anything tangible. "Him" could be the potential guy (prom date) or the guy I've never really known about. I don't know. I don't think I need to know.
I walked in the middle of the street. I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, and I alternated between looking down at the crack in the middle of the road and up at the thundering sky, which really didn't seem very threatening at all. Unless you consider a very deep shade of indigo to be threatening. I saw a frog.
I went back and sat on the front stoop, a little bit colder but invigorated. As "Goodbye My Lover" by James Blunt came on, I started to really think about... him. I was interrupted by Saloni; it wasn't an upsetting intrusion, just a little unexpected. But not unwelcome.
"Stop hovering," I told her, "sit." Amid great sighing at the thought of being in such close proximity to bugs and rain, she sat.
We talked. We talked about Iowa next year, leaving my friends behind, or, rather, going our separate ways; about living in the dorms and living in the apartment with her, making friends there, I told her that I am more mellow now and almost expect to not have very many friends next year because "... I think it's time, I kinda just want to hang out with myself for a bit." I asked if she and Ram were going to stay together next year (she said "we're going to try") and I told her that I really liked him. He is a genuinely nice guy. I could see him as a good brother-in-law.
I said everything I'd been thinking. I told her that she needed to give me a little space, allow me to adjust to her being home all of a sudden; that it was hard going months without talking to her and then suddenly trying to adapt to this demanding whirlwind that nearly stressed me out. To understand that I've grown up in all the time that she's been away, and that I need a sister and not another mother. I told her that the way she asks me questions in rapid-fire form make me uncomfortable, that I feel awkward and shut down because I don't know what to say and then give up because I feel like I can't tell her anything - that I never used to feel like I could tell her anything because I was too worried that she'd run and tell Mom and Dad. She told me that she pushed me because "...Mom is tired. She doesn't push you anymore, which is ridiculous, because you need to be pushed." She probably won't stop, but hopefully she'll at least be nicer about it. I know that she has my best interests in mind/at heart.
I told her that I didn't want to shout anymore. I don't like shouting.
She told me that it was weird for her, too, because she'd "never had [me] as a friend before." I never really thought about that. I guess she needs some space, too.
We joked, and I told her a quick childhood story about a time that she publicly shunned me in front of her friends when I was in third grade, and made her feel bad - but in a funny way. "We'll chill this summer," she said. "As long as it's not only because there's a marathon of America's Next Top Model on and you have nothing else to do," I responded. Even if it is, that's okay. I didn't tell her that, though.
Eventually she got up and went back into the house. I stayed for a few more minutes, soaking in the fresh air and waiting around in hopes of seeing the lightning one last time. I didn't see any lightning, but I did see a few fireflies. The concept of a firefly fascinates me. A creature's entire existence is solely dedicated to provide light to whatever or whoever is around to appreciate it. Then it dies. Now THAT'S living.
I smell like rain.
The thunderstorm was gorgeous. I don't know if you had a chance to look outside and enjoy it, but if you didn't, you missed out. It was a miracle from Nature. I like thunderstorms. I don't usually like rain, because I think I have SAD and when it's rainy and cloudy I usually get into a funk and kind of a depressed mood. I like thunderstorms, though. They're intense and engaging. Soothing, too.
I stepped outside the front door, onto our "porch" as it were. I had my iPod, of course, as if the noise from the thunderstorm weren't enough. "Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer came on. Good song. I sat, for a while. I thought, for a while.
I'm not really sad, you know? I guess it just hasn't it me yet. I'm not nostalgic, yet, and I don't know that I will be in the way that I thought I would be--I realize that all of the hundreds of people that I know... well, they're great, but they probably won't remember me. I'll keep in touch with some of the good ones, even some of the unexpected ones, but the rest will fade away into the fabric of my past. So it goes.
The wind picked up and it started to rain - big, fat, heavy raindrops. "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield came on.
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
I really like this song. I got up. I reached out my arms, and felt a few of the raindrops. I looked up, to see the lightning streak across the sky. I started dancing.
I danced along my sidewalk and into my driveway, I danced past my driveway into the cul-de-sac, and onto the sidewalk in the neighbors' house. I danced in the middle of the street.
The rain was pouring down and I looked up at the sky and my glasses were covered in the big, fat raindrops. I couldn't see, but somehow I still could. My glasses became a kaleidescope. The streetlights have never looked more enchanting. I laughed, and sang as loudly (and as well - or poorly) as I could.
"Ordinary People" by John Legend came on. This is another favorite.
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow
I sang along, and thought about "it." Him, I guess, is more appropriate. There is no more "him" because now it's more of a concept than anything tangible. "Him" could be the potential guy (prom date) or the guy I've never really known about. I don't know. I don't think I need to know.
I walked in the middle of the street. I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me, and I alternated between looking down at the crack in the middle of the road and up at the thundering sky, which really didn't seem very threatening at all. Unless you consider a very deep shade of indigo to be threatening. I saw a frog.
I went back and sat on the front stoop, a little bit colder but invigorated. As "Goodbye My Lover" by James Blunt came on, I started to really think about... him. I was interrupted by Saloni; it wasn't an upsetting intrusion, just a little unexpected. But not unwelcome.
"Stop hovering," I told her, "sit." Amid great sighing at the thought of being in such close proximity to bugs and rain, she sat.
We talked. We talked about Iowa next year, leaving my friends behind, or, rather, going our separate ways; about living in the dorms and living in the apartment with her, making friends there, I told her that I am more mellow now and almost expect to not have very many friends next year because "... I think it's time, I kinda just want to hang out with myself for a bit." I asked if she and Ram were going to stay together next year (she said "we're going to try") and I told her that I really liked him. He is a genuinely nice guy. I could see him as a good brother-in-law.
I said everything I'd been thinking. I told her that she needed to give me a little space, allow me to adjust to her being home all of a sudden; that it was hard going months without talking to her and then suddenly trying to adapt to this demanding whirlwind that nearly stressed me out. To understand that I've grown up in all the time that she's been away, and that I need a sister and not another mother. I told her that the way she asks me questions in rapid-fire form make me uncomfortable, that I feel awkward and shut down because I don't know what to say and then give up because I feel like I can't tell her anything - that I never used to feel like I could tell her anything because I was too worried that she'd run and tell Mom and Dad. She told me that she pushed me because "...Mom is tired. She doesn't push you anymore, which is ridiculous, because you need to be pushed." She probably won't stop, but hopefully she'll at least be nicer about it. I know that she has my best interests in mind/at heart.
I told her that I didn't want to shout anymore. I don't like shouting.
She told me that it was weird for her, too, because she'd "never had [me] as a friend before." I never really thought about that. I guess she needs some space, too.
We joked, and I told her a quick childhood story about a time that she publicly shunned me in front of her friends when I was in third grade, and made her feel bad - but in a funny way. "We'll chill this summer," she said. "As long as it's not only because there's a marathon of America's Next Top Model on and you have nothing else to do," I responded. Even if it is, that's okay. I didn't tell her that, though.
Eventually she got up and went back into the house. I stayed for a few more minutes, soaking in the fresh air and waiting around in hopes of seeing the lightning one last time. I didn't see any lightning, but I did see a few fireflies. The concept of a firefly fascinates me. A creature's entire existence is solely dedicated to provide light to whatever or whoever is around to appreciate it. Then it dies. Now THAT'S living.
I smell like rain.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Bam! In the non-Emeril way
I'm sorry that I haven't posted in so long. Not that anyone really reads this, but I feel bad, like I've broken a reluctantly-made promise.
Things have changed. I considered taking down the last post, but maybe that's not fair. I shouldn't have to erase parts of my life just because they're over now. I can't deny the existence of certain moments or people (as much as I'd like to).
As Yes mentioned in a post not too long ago, things are coming to a close very quickly. Very suddenly. I knew that this year was going to go by quickly, but I don't think I fully understood the gravity of it. Along with life hurtling along at break-neck pace, it's also changing--it must be gradual, but it's hardly noticeable. Then you wake up one day and BAM! something that you once considered a constant in your life has radically changed.
It's easy to speak in ambiguities, because then I feel like someone--anyone--can understand or relate. Perhaps I should put this into a narrower focus.
I've been thinking about it, and I have reached a conclusion: I am freaked out. There. I said it. It's out there. I am SCARED. I don't want to go to college. I've spent the last four years of my life coming to terms with the person I am, the person I am becoming, and I kind of like things the way they are. More importantly, I don't want to leave Valley because I fit in. Not necessarily with a group of people (apart from my friends) or a label, but because I know exactly where I stand. I know people, and people know me. They're good people. There are good people at this school.
It's not really the students, either. I don't know what I'm going to do without Graz. I know that sounds silly, but Graz has been a rock for me, and even more than that - he's just been there. I live in his room, I eat his food, I interrupt his classes, and I bug him about everything. Every day. My best friend is a fifty-three year old balding Italian man, and, dammit, I'm going to miss him.
Speaking of best friends, I just recently "lost" one of mine. We "broke up" on Thursday... I put that in quotations because I don't know if it is possible to be "dating" without ever actually going on dates. That's the problem with long-distance relationships, they aren't "dating" they're "relationships". I feel like a Facebook status - "no longer in a relationship." How lame.
The thing is, I knew it was coming. I knew going into it that it was stupid and, frankly, really really weird (circumstances-wise). But I went for it anyway, and I'm not unhappy that I did. I think I needed it... everyone needs a first. As did I. In all honesty, I think I deserve(d) it. "It" being someone to have for my own, even if for only a short while. And I don't know if I've ever been more content, because I really was content. I can't say happy - though there weren't happy moments - but I was fulfilled.
I knew that we probably wouldn't last through the summer, either, but I wanted to wait until I had graduated so that I knew I'd be in a right frame of mind... not so stressed out, freaking out, about all the things I need to get done. I didn't want to make any rash decisions and regret them later. I can pinpoint the day, I think, that he ... "changed." After that he just drifted off, pulled back, and I found out later it was intentional. Fair enough, I guess. I know this is callous, but I wanted to be the one to do it. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
I guess it is mostly just disappointing. As I lay in bed that night, crying my eyes out (even though I didn't really know why), the self-deprecating thoughts started creeping into my head. "Well, if he doesn't love me, no one will" and "I'm way too ugly" and "Now I'll never be anything" - things of that sort. Shortly thereafter, I realized that was stupid for two reasons. 1) I survived just fine without him. I don't think I was really that dependent on him, anyway. I think that is a good thing. and 2) Why should my self-esteem shatter over this? I don't mean to be arrogant, but I am a good person. I'm caring, I'm genuinely interested in other people's welfare, I'm funny (if only because I say stupid things), smart, and not entirely unattractive. I am a good person. This too shall pass.
So I cried, and now that that's done, I've got nothing left to do but move forward. Maybe something will happen, and maybe it won't. At the end of it I guess I just have to realize that I'm going to be going to a college campus of like 25000 boys, and of those, at least one has to be somewhat decent. Until then, I don't need to worry about that.
I think it'll be lonely for a while, just because I'll be shy of a really good friend. I have gotten very used to (spoiled) having someone listen to all of my stupid jokes and stories and me blabbering for hours on end. I know I have my friends, but it was different. One day I'll have that again, someone to be in sync with. Actually, I mean that we'll start a boy band...
I've got to plod onward with my life.
"You're brave. You're marching into the unknown armed with ... nothing."
-You've Got Mail
Things have changed. I considered taking down the last post, but maybe that's not fair. I shouldn't have to erase parts of my life just because they're over now. I can't deny the existence of certain moments or people (as much as I'd like to).
As Yes mentioned in a post not too long ago, things are coming to a close very quickly. Very suddenly. I knew that this year was going to go by quickly, but I don't think I fully understood the gravity of it. Along with life hurtling along at break-neck pace, it's also changing--it must be gradual, but it's hardly noticeable. Then you wake up one day and BAM! something that you once considered a constant in your life has radically changed.
It's easy to speak in ambiguities, because then I feel like someone--anyone--can understand or relate. Perhaps I should put this into a narrower focus.
I've been thinking about it, and I have reached a conclusion: I am freaked out. There. I said it. It's out there. I am SCARED. I don't want to go to college. I've spent the last four years of my life coming to terms with the person I am, the person I am becoming, and I kind of like things the way they are. More importantly, I don't want to leave Valley because I fit in. Not necessarily with a group of people (apart from my friends) or a label, but because I know exactly where I stand. I know people, and people know me. They're good people. There are good people at this school.
It's not really the students, either. I don't know what I'm going to do without Graz. I know that sounds silly, but Graz has been a rock for me, and even more than that - he's just been there. I live in his room, I eat his food, I interrupt his classes, and I bug him about everything. Every day. My best friend is a fifty-three year old balding Italian man, and, dammit, I'm going to miss him.
Speaking of best friends, I just recently "lost" one of mine. We "broke up" on Thursday... I put that in quotations because I don't know if it is possible to be "dating" without ever actually going on dates. That's the problem with long-distance relationships, they aren't "dating" they're "relationships". I feel like a Facebook status - "no longer in a relationship." How lame.
The thing is, I knew it was coming. I knew going into it that it was stupid and, frankly, really really weird (circumstances-wise). But I went for it anyway, and I'm not unhappy that I did. I think I needed it... everyone needs a first. As did I. In all honesty, I think I deserve(d) it. "It" being someone to have for my own, even if for only a short while. And I don't know if I've ever been more content, because I really was content. I can't say happy - though there weren't happy moments - but I was fulfilled.
I knew that we probably wouldn't last through the summer, either, but I wanted to wait until I had graduated so that I knew I'd be in a right frame of mind... not so stressed out, freaking out, about all the things I need to get done. I didn't want to make any rash decisions and regret them later. I can pinpoint the day, I think, that he ... "changed." After that he just drifted off, pulled back, and I found out later it was intentional. Fair enough, I guess. I know this is callous, but I wanted to be the one to do it. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
I guess it is mostly just disappointing. As I lay in bed that night, crying my eyes out (even though I didn't really know why), the self-deprecating thoughts started creeping into my head. "Well, if he doesn't love me, no one will" and "I'm way too ugly" and "Now I'll never be anything" - things of that sort. Shortly thereafter, I realized that was stupid for two reasons. 1) I survived just fine without him. I don't think I was really that dependent on him, anyway. I think that is a good thing. and 2) Why should my self-esteem shatter over this? I don't mean to be arrogant, but I am a good person. I'm caring, I'm genuinely interested in other people's welfare, I'm funny (if only because I say stupid things), smart, and not entirely unattractive. I am a good person. This too shall pass.
So I cried, and now that that's done, I've got nothing left to do but move forward. Maybe something will happen, and maybe it won't. At the end of it I guess I just have to realize that I'm going to be going to a college campus of like 25000 boys, and of those, at least one has to be somewhat decent. Until then, I don't need to worry about that.
I think it'll be lonely for a while, just because I'll be shy of a really good friend. I have gotten very used to (spoiled) having someone listen to all of my stupid jokes and stories and me blabbering for hours on end. I know I have my friends, but it was different. One day I'll have that again, someone to be in sync with. Actually, I mean that we'll start a boy band...
I've got to plod onward with my life.
"You're brave. You're marching into the unknown armed with ... nothing."
-You've Got Mail
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
List/Lust
so Friday went well...
E-mail:
hey you,
[...] i wanted to make a list so, here goes.
E-mail:
| show details 12:42 PM (11 hours ago) |
|
[...] i wanted to make a list so, here goes.
i like everything.
kidding...kinda.
-you're hot.
-you're nice enough to make me happy, but not too nice as to not tell me when i'm being a dumbass.
-you are the easiest person to talk to that i have ever met, since day one when i first called you right before i had to go to work at MCL and was eating a cookie.
-you are blunt. but not too blunt to make me angry or upset.
-you're pretty.
-you're absolutely hilarious, even when you're not trying to be.
-you can be serious when you have to.
-i like how i can tell your mood within 3 seconds of talking to you on aim and within half a second on the phone.
-i like how you like talking to me as much as i like talking to you.
-i like that you read what i write and actually talk about it, not just tell me it's good.
-i like that you're really smart.
-i like that you like cuddling
-i like your taste in music, even if i don't really like some of the music, does that make sense?
-i like how when i don't make sense you tell me i do, and that you actually some of the time understand.
-i like that you worry about me and don't like me doing the things i like to do and you keep me reasonable with them.
-i like how you show you care not by telling me you do, but by saying things that make it readily apparent.
-i like that you can spell well.
-i like how you can sing along to almost every song i have received from you.
-i like that you listen to the music i send even though it may not be your style, basically that you value my opinion and honestly consider it.
-i like talking to you. did i say that?
-i like how you want to be protected.
-i like your taste in movies.
-i like that you're indian and care about your culture.
-i like you.
i really could have kept going, but i have to do hw now. oh! i like how i distract you. forgot that one. i also like how happy making this list made me, just thinking about all of it. you're amazing suki.
i'll take it. :)
i'll take it. :)
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Two Years
Actually, I'm a little late. Two years was yesterday.
Two whole years of knowing each other. That seems ridiculous to me. I mean, I know Yes and Junebug and Toma and the rest of them, and it's been far longer than two years. Then again, I've never been romantically linked to them... well, that one time with Junebug...
He'll be here in two days and I don't know if I'm scared or excited. Both, I think, is the appropriate response. I should have waited until then to post this. I don't know why I'm posting this; it seems silly now.
Two years of him knowing all of my stories, my stupid quirks, my lame jokes, mostly everything about me. And vice versa.
That's... a lot.
Well if I'm this articulate on Friday, I'll probably be looking at a marriage proposal before long.
Two whole years of knowing each other. That seems ridiculous to me. I mean, I know Yes and Junebug and Toma and the rest of them, and it's been far longer than two years. Then again, I've never been romantically linked to them... well, that one time with Junebug...
He'll be here in two days and I don't know if I'm scared or excited. Both, I think, is the appropriate response. I should have waited until then to post this. I don't know why I'm posting this; it seems silly now.
Two years of him knowing all of my stories, my stupid quirks, my lame jokes, mostly everything about me. And vice versa.
That's... a lot.
Well if I'm this articulate on Friday, I'll probably be looking at a marriage proposal before long.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Old News
Like Yes Maybe, I, too, find myself annoyed by the post below this, but not annoyed enough to take the time to write a proper blog.
Today I realized that I am what I once feared and revered. I am a senior. A big, bad, senior. I walked into Valley Southwoods today to give the freshmen ELP kiddies a little pep talk about how much the rest of their lives are going to suck because they've been selected as the intelligent kids of the bunch and now have to carry America upon their shoulders in the fight against crazy smart kids in China. That, and, you know, how to apply to college. And how not to be a dumb sophomore. I remember the day that a senior came in to talk to my ELP class. I was frightened of him, amazed, scared, bewildered, slightly amused because I knew I was a long way off from it.
Here I am, a few months out, and I still feel a long way off from it.
I feel older, which is the funny thing. Most people have a birthday and someone inevitably asks, "So do you feel any older?" and the answer is almost invariably "Nope." I know, it isn't my birthday, and I'm a good year and a half younger than all of my friends (or more!!) but I do feel older. Is it wisdom? Nah, I got those teeth yanked out months ago.
Must be the water or something.
Today I realized that I am what I once feared and revered. I am a senior. A big, bad, senior. I walked into Valley Southwoods today to give the freshmen ELP kiddies a little pep talk about how much the rest of their lives are going to suck because they've been selected as the intelligent kids of the bunch and now have to carry America upon their shoulders in the fight against crazy smart kids in China. That, and, you know, how to apply to college. And how not to be a dumb sophomore. I remember the day that a senior came in to talk to my ELP class. I was frightened of him, amazed, scared, bewildered, slightly amused because I knew I was a long way off from it.
Here I am, a few months out, and I still feel a long way off from it.
I feel older, which is the funny thing. Most people have a birthday and someone inevitably asks, "So do you feel any older?" and the answer is almost invariably "Nope." I know, it isn't my birthday, and I'm a good year and a half younger than all of my friends (or more!!) but I do feel older. Is it wisdom? Nah, I got those teeth yanked out months ago.
Must be the water or something.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Nihilism 101
It's freezing outside.
I didn't go to the Valentine's Dance. Don't--stop. Stop feeling bad. I didn't want to go, I had absolutely no desire to go, and I really am not playing the part of the bitter, lonely high school girl. I didn't want to go.
--
Are we really all just playing a small part in something much bigger than ourselves? What happens when we all come together, when we all work as a team, live our lives in harmony, and everyone is content. I've always thought that communism was stupid because everyone is bland, everyone is beige, we are all the fucking same. What good is life if we are all the same? What bloody good does it do any of us if people are happy? No, no I think we're meant to live our lives unhappily, constantly searching for something better. That's the only thing that keeps us going, isn't it? That there's something better 'round the bend, that life gets better than this.
What if it can't get any better than this? What happens when you realize you've reached your limit? You've found out just exactly how smart you are, and not a drop of intelligence more is left in your puny, yet somehow miraculously brilliant, brain. You can only help so many people. You can only change yourself so much. You can only try so many new things, be so many places and see the world. You can only hear a good song so many times before it gets old, you can only eat the same dishes so many times before realizing that it all tastes the same because they're all the same bloody ingredients.
What happens when you've shared so much that there's nothing left to share? What happens when someone knows all of your stories, knows you inside and out, knows absolutely everything about you and there is nothing left to know?
Maybe I wasn't just using a tired, threadbare line. Maybe I really do have commitment issues. Am I so wrong to be afraid? Am I so wrong to think that there isn't any place worth going beyond this? That it should stop here before whatever memories have been created are tainted with bitterness?
I think it's stupid that I am such a jaded optimist. My naiveté is sprinkled with a dash of cold truth, mixed with a handful of real world cynicism.
I will go on and live my life, creating small ripples of change in my small circle of friends, just like everyone else, I will go on and join the rat race. I will lament my ignorance and wish I had taken that job, or that trip, or been with that person. I will fade away into mediocrity and a middle class lifestyle. It has been thousands of years, and so it will be a thousand more, of a never-ending cycle of life and death.
In this green world, I will be beige.
I didn't go to the Valentine's Dance. Don't--stop. Stop feeling bad. I didn't want to go, I had absolutely no desire to go, and I really am not playing the part of the bitter, lonely high school girl. I didn't want to go.
--
Are we really all just playing a small part in something much bigger than ourselves? What happens when we all come together, when we all work as a team, live our lives in harmony, and everyone is content. I've always thought that communism was stupid because everyone is bland, everyone is beige, we are all the fucking same. What good is life if we are all the same? What bloody good does it do any of us if people are happy? No, no I think we're meant to live our lives unhappily, constantly searching for something better. That's the only thing that keeps us going, isn't it? That there's something better 'round the bend, that life gets better than this.
What if it can't get any better than this? What happens when you realize you've reached your limit? You've found out just exactly how smart you are, and not a drop of intelligence more is left in your puny, yet somehow miraculously brilliant, brain. You can only help so many people. You can only change yourself so much. You can only try so many new things, be so many places and see the world. You can only hear a good song so many times before it gets old, you can only eat the same dishes so many times before realizing that it all tastes the same because they're all the same bloody ingredients.
What happens when you've shared so much that there's nothing left to share? What happens when someone knows all of your stories, knows you inside and out, knows absolutely everything about you and there is nothing left to know?
Maybe I wasn't just using a tired, threadbare line. Maybe I really do have commitment issues. Am I so wrong to be afraid? Am I so wrong to think that there isn't any place worth going beyond this? That it should stop here before whatever memories have been created are tainted with bitterness?
I think it's stupid that I am such a jaded optimist. My naiveté is sprinkled with a dash of cold truth, mixed with a handful of real world cynicism.
I will go on and live my life, creating small ripples of change in my small circle of friends, just like everyone else, I will go on and join the rat race. I will lament my ignorance and wish I had taken that job, or that trip, or been with that person. I will fade away into mediocrity and a middle class lifestyle. It has been thousands of years, and so it will be a thousand more, of a never-ending cycle of life and death.
In this green world, I will be beige.
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