Homeward Bound

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,

When the sparrows stop their singing and the sky is clear and red.

When the summer’s ceased its gleaming,

When the corn is past its prime, 

When adventure’s lost its meaning, 

I’ll be homeward bound in time.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.

Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

If you find it’s me you’re missing, if you’re hoping I’ll return.

To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning, and in the road I’ll stop and turn.

Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end.

And the path I’ll be retracing when I’m homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow.

Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,

When the sparrows stop their singing, 

I’ll be homeward bound again.

-Music and Lyrics by Marta Keen

Welcome, Sort Of.

Have you ever thought about the way you invite someone in to your home?

I stop in the first room with seating. On campus, it's the kitchen/dining area. If I'm not sure what the plans are or what to do, it just seems logical. In my apartment, it was the living area - the room immediately attached to the foyer area. This idea just seems neutral to me - it's not letting anyone too far in, but it's not keeping them out in the cold.

But many people will invite you to their most comfortable living area, where you can be at ease and share. Some people will take you back to their room - completely open to having you in their own personal space. Some people will stand at the door,  leaving you to your own business and forcing you to request your way inside.

The way I am in my own reflects the way I am psychologically. I don't let people in to my head often - I don't talk about my personal problems and struggles. I keep people at a distance, only letting on what is necessary for our relationship. I like to listen to other people and help them out before we get to me. And we rarely get to me. What do your host/hostess behaviors say about you?

I've been taking this communications course - nothing in depth, just a general overview of the topic - but it's really gotten me thinking about my actions and my words and what they might say about me or how they might affect other people - as if I wasn't already worried enough about what other people think.

But I find these connections extremely interesting. Like how far I let people in to my home. I am able to discover new things about my personality and and my mannerisms that I never really thought about or understood before.

It really pays to be observant. I enjoy knowing these previously mysterious little tidbits of information. And just think how much you could learn about other people by observing these same things - and how much of an easier time you could have communicating and interacting with them once you know their motivations and what they are thinking.

Language and communication are very powerful things when we understand how to use them properly. Everything you say and do reflects something deeper inside you and conveys a message - whether positive or negative - to others who observe you.

Always be conscious and observant - you never know what you might stumble across.

Get Out of the Box and Play in the Pool

I've been working on this paper all day - an assignment for my communications class. We had to choose an article from Communication Currents online magazine, and then analyze it based on the principles of communication and our own opinion. I chose an article on the representation of LGBT couples with children in the news, and how it is affecting them. The author took the stance that it was negative - that the struggles and hardships of the children could be used as ammo to ant-gay activists, and that focusing on heterosexual children of LGBT couples only showed that it was okay for the couples to have children if their children weren't gay.

Well, I read through the articles she cited, and I chose to disagree. I think people pick and choose to see, read, and hear what they want - they take in what will support their own opinions. I think because of this, the stories in the articles  needed to be represented in a way that would not scare a way extremists, or even people with slightly opposing view points. As a friend quoted after reading my paper, "nobody likes an extremist-" you have to warm people up to the ideas you wish to present to them in order for them to even consider accepting them.

But what struck me the most, was how much people miss the humanity of the whole situation. I didn't write about this aspect in my paper - with a word count and subject limit, there wasn't really a place for it.However, I still think it is an important aspect of the issue. People read these articles about LGBT couples, families, and individuals and they pull out the facts - they pull out whatever they can use to make and argument for or against. They are reading in order to start an argument about something that should or shouldn't be. But what they are missing is the fact that these are real people. These stories are meant to open the eyes of the world on to the hardships that these families go through, not so that we can say LGBT families are bad, or to prove that anti-gay advocates are wrong, but rather, to show the affects of non-acceptance the cruelty of the closed-minded world.

In almost every article I read for this paper, the families spoke of fear of judgement. They didn't want to speak out about their families because they didn't want to provide media-ammo. They are simply looking to be a family - they want what every family wants - a house, a safe neighborhood, a good school, friends and family to love and support them. But the children are pressured to be model citizens because poor performance could reflect badly on the LGBT community. Parents are afraid to talk of their LGBT children because it might support the misconception that LGBT parents raise LGBT children. If their boys were a little more feminine or emotional, or their girls a little too masculine - they were raised outside of strict gender constraints, and they were corrupted.

The heartfelt stories presented in the news are not meant to produce facts in support or rejection on to these theories. They are meant to bring observers in to these people's live and show the world that they are just like everybody else. The pressure and judgment is there simply because the territory is new, and people don't know what to think just yet. So why can't we see and decide to love?

One second most common aspect of each article portraying an LGBT family is that their children grow to be more open-minder, accepting, and loving than other children. They learn to accept the blending of gender identities - they learn that it's okay to be different from the norm and that it's okay to experiment. They learn to be who they want to be - who they are - rather than who society expects them to be. Aren't these principles that straight parents also teach their children? Aren't these principles the basis of many religious teachings? Isn't this a model of a near-perfect family life?

So what's the big deal? Why do we read for all of the facts and the arguments - why do we pick and fight and analyze and rip everything apart, when what we need is right in front of us? How do so many of us miss the simple humanity of a situation? We are all people and that is what these articles are trying to portray. Is that so hard to see?

I think we could all learn to live and observe as human beings. What if we went through every day living with other human beings - just human beings. No political differences, not economic differences, not racial differences - we were all just people trying to get by - trying to live, and feel, and breathe a little - laugh a little. Because that's all we really are, isn't it?

Take a day and forget everything that society defines you as - forget the labels and the boxes - and just be. Maybe you'll see the world through different eyes.

Peace and Love.

Save or Delete: An Ongoing Battle

I went home last weekend to grab the leftover things that didn't fit in my car the first time, and to visit with my family. I'd seen so much of them and talked to then so much on and off it was weird to think about getting back in to the almost total separation that happens when I go back to school. But that's not really the point of this post.

When I got home, I learned that my dad would be driving out to Dearborn in order to do work on my Grandparents' house.

For those of you who don't know, my grandparents died within twelve hours of each other, in their home, last June. It was a very trying time for my family, as you can imagine.

But the house was never dissolved. For my aunts and uncles, letting go of the house and everything inside it meant completely letting go of everything that was my grandparents - and the childhood of my dad and ny aunts and uncles. It was too much, too soon for them.

So the house sat.

My grandparents' remains were taken care of quickly- cremation- but the memorial service wasn't scheduled until September. It took 3 months just to be able to think of their passing as concrete enough to memorialize- so you can imagine what a big step working on the house would be.

At the Holidays, there was talk of using my grandparents' house for gathering, and my aunts and uncle would still stay there when they came in to town. It seemed strange to me - erie - wanting to stay in the house of someone who'd passed. But it was okay for them, and I guess that's what mattered. I avoided it on most occasions.

But this weekend - a year later - they were finally ready to start tackling the huge project of cleaning, sorting, and dividing my grandparents' things amongst them. Ad believe me, that house is full to the brim of things to go through.

They had been at the house two or three days before I'd gotten there. Many rooms were full of things with tags on them labeling who wanted what and what items would need to be "fought over." Some were complete, some weren't, and there was a lot left to do. Ibwalked through the house, looking at all the items, reminiscing about certain things and times that I'd had there. But as I walked, I didn't really come acrid anything I'd want to keep. They were all just...things. They came with memories, yes, but they weren't memories I didn't have in my head or in pictures.

This was not the case for my family going through the house. Everything was of value and importance. They reminisced as they went through things and labeled things based on the rememberance. They talked of getting storage units in order to make room for all of the things they would be bringing home.

I wanted to understand where they were coming from, and I did a little, but I could also see where it could become such a waste- all of those things just sitting in a unit, gathering dust simply because they reminded us of a long-gone past. These two viewpoints left me in a very big contradiction of thoughts.

Which is better? Collecting scads of things that we may not need, and may not ever use - or living in a throw-away society, where nothing means anything and we live, basically, sentimentally barren?

I couldn't help but feel that so many things; ties; memories; reminders would bog us down. How can you go through life attached to so many objects? You'd never be able to just live and be and breathe- you would be defined by all of the things you'd carry with you. But at the same time, we can't go through life carrying nothing. Without attachment we are careless. Even heartless - one couldn't be expected to walk through his parents house and want nothing.

I guess I don't really know why I was bothered the amount things being saved just for the sake of saving. Maybe it's the waste - think of all the people who might love to have those things- all the good that could be done by donating them or selling them. Maybe it's the mixture of feelings that I still have for the whole situation. I'm not yet sure where I stand as far as moving on, so blocking it out just seems more comfortable. Maybe it's my lack of connection to my grandparents and to that house  - we never spent much time there, so my memories are hardly grand. I don't know, and probably wont know, but regardless, there is something strange there.

Maybe for my family, they are still struggling to move on. Maybe this step is a good step, though arduous. Maybe when they are ready, there will be a phase two to the sorting, when we will get down to the really important things.

But in the end I'm not sure if it matters. Should we save? Or should we delete? I'm not sure where the line is, and maybe we all balance each other out in the end - I don't know. But in the meantime, I will continue pondering.

There IS Sense to the Silly Things I Say

We were at the fireworks for the 4th of July yesterday and I said something silly, that didn't really make sense. I knew what I'd said wasn't what I mean, but there was too much going on to really think about it and fix it. I took me until today to figure it out.

Everything had just ended - the smoke from the Grand Finale was still lingering in the air, catching the red, white, and blue beams from spot lights. Mass amounts of people were gathering their things and heading back to their cars, fighting with each other for walking space, car space, and the right of way. Even still, there were people sitting on the lawns lighting off cheap, legal "fireworks," and even some illegal ones.

It had been a friend of mine's first time celebrating the 4th, and he wasn't impressed. It was stressful, he said. Which is true. The Saginaw set up isn't really crowd friendly. Another in our group loves it - the people, the colors, the fireworks, what it represents. The whole shebang. In response to the discussion, I'd said "I just like the fireworks. I could give two shits about the holiday, I don't really like what it represents. But I like the fireworks." After a quizzical look, I continued, "The whole killing people for more land idea." Which didn't really get me a good response. More of a condescending "you don't really understand, do you?" response.

I realize what I'd said, but with the hectic crowds and the moment, I let it go. I kept thinking about it though. I knew what I'd meant, I just couldn't phrase it.

It's not that I don't understand that the 4th of July is Independence Day - our freedom from Britain - rather than a celebration of a battle for land. I'm not an idiot. But it took a battle for land, theoretically to get there. If we didn't win the land, Britain would still have it and we wouldn't really be free. Which is from where I was coming. But that wasn't my ultimate meaning.

The United States of American were originally fought for and founded in order to gain religious freedom from Britain. Colonists wanted to practice what they believed, rather than what they were told to believe. They didn't want to be controlled by a government in which they had no say. All very valid arguments.

So we fought, and we won, and that's great. But then we proceeded to persecute those not of the religion on which American was founded - or any other differences people may have had, really. Salem Witch Trials, anyone? Red Scare? Slavery and the Civil Rights Movement? Women's Rights? The LGBT Rights Movement? We aren't really even free from our own country. We gain new freedoms, sure. But it takes a long, hard battle to get there. Frankly, if there was anymore land to be had, there'd probably be a group destined for it, trying to start a new country. What do you think - socialist? All gay, all the time? Survey says...

Our victory and freedom from Britain was just a proclamation of our inability to accept our differences as human beings, and an encouragement to run away and live with other people who are just like us. And that is what I don't like about the 4th of July. We have a great and beautiful country and we have a lot of freedoms compared to other places, but we aren't done yet. Not until we can live with our neighbors, no matter how much we disagree with them, and love them for who they are.

And maybe the 4th of July is a celebration of out ability to fight for our freedoms and win - I suppose that's a possibility. But I'm not ready to gloss things over just yet. There still a little negativity buried beneath my optimism.

None the less - I love my country - but we aren't perfect. And that was all I meant by my slightly inaccurate and brash statement.

Happy America Day,
Peace and Love.

The End of an Unnecessary Search: A Long Winded Ramble

The self is not something that one finds. It's something that one creates. -Thomas Szasz

I've been struggling for a while now to, for lack of a better phrase, discover who I am. I know it sounds cheesy, but I guess it's true. I've spend so much time being who I think I should be, or who I think other people want me to be, or who I wish I was, that I've never really nourished "me." I struggle to make decisions for fear that I might make the wrong one, or one that isn't as accepted as I'd like it to be. I struggle to make conversation because I don't know what to talk about it - what the other will want to talk about. I can never just be. I've known this for a while, but I've never sat back and looked at it for what it is. I've just pushed it a way and gone on with what I've always done.

But lately, I've been wanting so much to just be me. I want to be able to answer the question, "who are you?" without hesitance. I want to be able to describe myself in three words without struggling.

I want definition.

But I didn't know how to get there. I would look through things and just search for meaning. I would miss the entirety of what I was looking at because I was simply trying to see myself. But it doesn't work like that. I've been noticing that for a while.

I stumbled across the quote above in while doing the reading for my communications class. The section was all about how who we are is developed from the time we are children, and shaped by our society, culture, and interactions. And how who we are then shapes how we communicate and interact both with ourselves and the people around us. The idea of "self" is extremely important. And yet I have no idea of my own.

Which is where the quote comes in, actually. It struck me I guess, because of all the searching I've been doing. Instead of "rediscovering who I am," I've just been creating and fueling a confusion of my own - pushed further by how much my searching wasn't doing.

So I stopped. And I thought back to everything that I'd been focusing on, looking for some, great meaning. And I found what I'd been looking for. Sort of.

Ultimately, I am defined by my sexuality - something that holds me back in some situations, and a bit of knowledge that I withhold from many people; I am defined by my gender as I struggle to fit in with societies definition of a "girl," when I don't; I am defined by my masculine ambition, drive, and independence in competition with my feminine insecurity; I am defined by my anxiety; by my career choice as a stage manager; by my need to be busy in order to run away.

These are all things that I have known, and that I have just never accepted. What I wanted was right there the whole time, and I just wanted something different. I was in search of something else that wasn't really me, and in the process of searching I created some other me that wasn't real. I created a shell around myself, searching for something to fill it. But underneath, I have an incredibly strong and independent self - one with great uniqueness and definition and I tried to escape it instead of embracing it.

I've tried very hard to keep this blog separate from "me." It was meant to be a disconnected collection of stories and observations to offer insight. But I have been noticing more and more that it is more an extension of me; my ideas displayed in search of approval, judged by the daily tally of "views." I would like to say that I will begin integrating myself back in to my posts, so to speak. But that's highly unnecessary. I just need to start thinking more, and posting more, and posting for me rather than for the responses.

So that is what is to come.

I apologize for the long winded and angst-y ramble.

Ultimately  - don't lose yourself in the world. Don'y lose yourself in who you wish you were, or who others want you to be. Just focus on being. And don't forget what defines you, and don't run from it either.

Just live. Love. Laugh. Be at peace. Enjoy the wind at your back and the sun on your face. All that cliche stuff. 

Flying on Planes

Have you ever looked for shapes in the clouds while you're flying high above them?

Have you ever watched the sun reflect off the moisture in the air- scattering warm displays of radiance?

Have you ever followed the pale white ground of the heavens until it fades to the brilliant blue of infinity?

Come fly with me. There is beauty in the air and we miss it every day with our feet so permanently on the ground.

Live, for a day, with your head in the clouds and tell me what you see.

Peace and Love.

How To Be Alone by Tonya Davis

I recently read the poem "How To Be Alone" by Tonya Davis. I don't remember how I came across it...random stumbling around on the internet. But it caught my attention. Tonya goes through the steps of acclamating onesself to the idea of being alone- from having coffee alone to going to dinner alone to going to the club alone and dancing like no one's watching, "because they probably aren't," as she puts it. Sometimes this can sound so appealing, and yet, seems like such a silly idea.

We are so absorbed in meeting people- connecting with them- adding them up and having the most friends, whether we are close with them or not. It's a game, a competiton, a distraction. We are surrounding ourselves with people and things to keep us from ourselves.

As I'm sitting here, on this plane, quite litterally flying solo, I'm having a hard time just sitting with myself. Ibwant to talk to the people sitting next to me, or text people on my phone that is always with me, or blog tobmy readers, or read something engaging. I can't just....be. Why?

I guess it's less of an inability to be alone, and more of a lack of desire to be alone. But again, why?

Is it a need to keep up with appearances- to keep up with the social norm of popularity? Is it a dislike of things that might cross my mind, or a fear of them? Is it because I am so used to being busy or occupied that I simply don't know how to stop?

I guess it's a good thing that I have this whole flight on my own to think about these things, as the man sittig next to me plays Angry Birds, as absorbed in his electronic life as I am; and as the people around sit with their spouses and their magazines, oblivious to the moments flying by.

Common Ground

“If we cannot yet reconcile all opinions, Let us endeavor to unite all hearts.” -Robert Owen, 1832

We all have something in common with whoever is sitting next to us; across from us; near us. We have something in common with people far away from us too; the whole world. 

We have so many different opinions and viewpoints; different beliefs. We are individuals - we are our own  people. It's something advertised, acknowledged and encouraged on a regular basis. 

And yet, there is still so much hatred. We don't like people who are different from us in the wrong ways. We don't like people who are radical or "weird." These differences set up blockades between us; we can't see around them. 

But really, we have something that we can share in, unite it, or believe in together. We just don't spend the time looking for it. We stop at different and don't move on to similar. 

So why not try to find things that you agree on? Hell, agree to disagree if that's all you can discover - but I know there is something more. There is something beneath the surface that you're missing. 

Set a goal for yourself. Find the things you share with people, and let them unite you against the hatred of diversity. 

Dive in to your differences and land on common ground. 

Peace and Love.

"I Never Said That," And Other Drama Causing Situations

So, recently I had a conversation with friend that I hadn't spoken to in a while.

I mean, we'd conversed when we had to- business and the like- but we hadn't had a real conversation, friend to friend.

It came up that we weren't as close as we used to be.
Well, rather, it was dumped on me that we weren't close friends anymore. I mean, I could tell something was wrong considering the talking situation, but I didn't think that we just weren't friends. I'd figured it was a bit of misunderstanding that could be worked out and needed time.

Anyway, that piece is hardly to the point. That is another story.

We began talking about where we were as friends, and I mentioned that I have a difficult time having friendships in business situations, and that I keep my friendships fluid in that respect. If we are not working together, we can be really good friends. But once we start working together, it has to be understood that I will remove myself and that we will have an extremely professional relationship. And once the job is done, we can go back to being friends. But when I am stage managing, or trying to lead, it's difficult to define friendship and also define a chain of command and a chain of control. Feelings are bound to get hurt. So I don't even go there.

We sort of continued talking but I never got her side.

I found out later that what she heard was "I only want to have a professional relationship with you."

That's not what I meant at all, and I hope, after all that I said, that that wasn't what it boiled down to.

It got me thinking- about all the conversations that we have with the people around us. Do we ever consider how they listen? How they need to be spoken to? Is it even important?

People say "accept me for who I am." I preach love and acceptance almost every day. We want people to accept us for who we are. If I word things in a round about manner than people should work out a way to deal with it.

At the same time though, we need to accept other people. If they listen in black and white manner, then we should accept it and deal with it.

So. Do I change the way I speak to certain people, or is it their problem if they don't understand it?

Or is there a compromise. <-- I believe that this is the ticket. But the problem is, how do you reach the compromise without the argument that ensues after the misunderstanding. The "you said, I never said, sounded like to me, he said she said" arguments. We can't all be completely perceptive of how every single person functions. We are how we are, and what we are is human. We all speak in our own way and hear in our own way.

So at what point does twisting what people say to you become a problem or a disorder instead of just who you are? And at what point does speaking harshly become cruelty instead of just who you are? When does passivity become detrimental instead of simply a personality trait? When doe aggressive behavior become abuse?

There are fine lines everywhere..it's like a laser field out there. How do you know what you've crossed and what you haven't and how far you have yet to go?

These are questions that I have yet to answer...and maybe they will never be answered.

But the one step that I have come across is that you must first understand yourself before you can understand others. Know your own fine lines - your own issues, behaviors, and quirks. Know your flaws and your strong points. When you understand yourself, you can begin to see yourself through other people's eyes. Don't degrade yourself, and don't put yourself on a pedestal. But just..begin to understand.

Understanding and communication are the root of all connection and compromise. 

The Future, 2.0

Well.

A lot of new and exciting things have been going on around here - a lot of new commitments, new paths, new opportunities, new honors - it's been pretty incredible.

Not that I am trying to brag. It could be as detrimental to my wellbeing as it will be a kick-start to my future. So bear with me.

I received the Roberts Fellowship at the University. A year long leadership class, taught by some of the best and brightest there, and also completely paid for. Only 12 students are selected out of the hundreds who qualify for application. This year, they only picked 11. Along with the class, the students must attend various evening lectures, events of fellow students, and an in-depth group service project that will change the lives of those being served. At the end of the year, the class takes a three week trip to Asia, also completely paid for. It is one of the highest honors the University has to offer before graduation.

This is a huge honor as well as a huge commitment. It will take up almost all of my free time that I may have had after theatre hours take their toll. On top of that, a lot of the lectures overlap scheduled rehearsal time. It will be a daunting task two balance the two commitments, but I told the board that I would be able to work it out.

Thinking back on it, I've begun to worry that I can't. I refuse to not try. I refuse to give up my responsibilities in the theatre department because I might not be able to handle it. Those who do not try never succeed. So It might be a semester from hell, but when it's done, I will have survived and become stronger because of it. And if I can't do it, I will sit, think, talk, and admit that I'd made a mistake and took on too much.

There comes a point when you have to begin to say no. There comes a point when all of your commitments and opportunities become a curse rather than a blessing. But what I am hoping is that I have reached max capacity, finally having a reason to say no to everything else, rather than breaching capacity and falling apart.

We shall see.

This will, above everything, be a learning and growing experience for myself. I will find myself somewhere along this road. I will discover my boundaries and my limits - and I will exceed them - go above and beyond them. I will discover my strengths and develop them, and discover my weaknesses and learn yo overcome them.

Never say no to a risk. Risks are what define us, what create us, what help us to grow. Without risk we never change, we only stay the same. Without risk there is no try, and there is no succeed. There is only static.

So. Honor and opportunity? Check. Acceptance? Check. Risk? Check. Scared and Nervous? Check. Excited? Check.

It could bend and break me, but in the end, I will come back stronger and better than before.

Lets do this.

And then there are those random days when the world seems full of love...

"I know you've been going through some not-so-great things lately, but remember that you're beautiful and talented and that you deserve the purest happiness the world has to offer. ~Anonymous 

whoever you are you are an amazing person. Thank you for your kind words. Though I do know this it is amazing to be reminded of it when my life seems to say otherwise.

When was the last time you made someone's day by simply telling them how special they are?

When was the last time you walked down a hallway and just smiled at the people you pass by?

It's the little things. 

'Hurts So Good' and other stories on why we do what we do; Part 2

A while back, I posted the following:

"Don't be afraid to hurt or to feel. It reminds you who you are, and that you are."

And I'd forgotten about it, until now. It's true that we are described by our feelings - both physical and emotional - but they are not all that we are. They do not define us. They accent that which is in our very being - but they do not control us.

They are simply that - reminders.


Sometimes we get lost. We think it's worth it. We forget that we are something beyond our hardship - the hurt and the feelings consume us.

Sometimes we bottle everything up - we try to keep it, and remain blank. We lose the thought and introspection that comes with feeling. We want to be stony faced and strong - because somehow emotion weakens us. It makes us vulnerable.

But somewhere in between the two is reality. We do feel, we do hurt - it's a part of life. We are vulnerable beings - giving in to this vulnerability and trusting those who see it is what makes us stronger.

And this is a lesson that I have yet to grasp and live out.
Trust is one of the hardest trials known to man - to unmask everything at lay it at another's feet.

To fully live, we must accept that we must feel. We must embrace our emotions and let them fill even the darkest corners, without letting them consume and take control, leading to irrationality.

To accept that we feel, we must first trust.

To trust...we must leap, or fall, into something uncertain and unknown.

Instead we often hide. We bottle up, or we let too much go to soon.
When will we learn to stand up on two feet?

'Hurts So Good' and other stories on why we do what we do; Part 1

I've had quite a few people tell me in the past few days their lives are described by songs.

"We exchange ourselves and we do it all the time - why do we do that? Why do I do that?"

"I don't care what people say, the rush is worth the price I pay. I get so high when you're with me."

"I can't breathe but I still fight, while I can fight. As long as the wrong feels rights it's like I'm in flight. High off a love and drunk from the hate."

We express ourselves through these words and depictions daily - sometimes subconsciously - finding meaning in art and  music - in lyrics and poems and other people's stories. Because deep down, these connections mean we're not alone - we're not crazy - someone else is feeling the same way too.

And when you look back on it, these lines - these connections - are not happy. They aren't sunshine and daisies. Because, for some reason, we don't need to justify out gladness. We justify our pain. As if we revel in, though we know it's meant to be undesirable, because it somehow defines us; gives us definition - a darker side. We become shaded and shadowed - more than an outline.

Moreover, we seek out our own demons, keeping them just below the surface. We act on our impulses, no matter how detrimental they may be. And we draw on the pain it all provides.

And then we fight it.

It's a fight we can win - it can put us out on top. Because overcoming pain is honorable and courageous - and we praise courage above all else. We become 3-dimensional.

These words that we rely on help us find these battles, and learn what we need to overcome.

But often, we use the words as a hiding place. Rather than finding our own personal darkness and defeating it with the encouragement that we are not alone, we take comfort in the fact that others are going through the same troubles - it becomes normal; t becomes accepted - a uniqueness strengthened by the fact that it has been written about. It's something special. So why fight it? Why let it go? People go through it all the time - "it's just who I am," we say.

So why do we through ourselves away so easily? Why do we seek normalcy in the things that hurt us most? 

As Communication Fades Away:

"But the reality is that we communicate with every part of our being, and there are times when we must use it all. When someone needs us, he or she needs all of us. There’s no text that can replace a loving touch when someone we love is hurting.

We haven’t lost romance in the digital age, but we may be neglecting it. In doing so, antiquated art forms are taking on new importance. The power of a hand-written letter is greater than ever. It’s personal and deliberate means more than an email or text ever will. It has a unique scent. It requires deciphering. But, most important, it’s flawed There are errors in handwriting, punctuation, grammar, and spelling that show our vulnerability. And vulnerability is the essence of romance. It’s the art of being uncalculated, the willingness to look foolish, the courage to say, “This is me, and I’m interested in you enough to show you my flaws with the hope that you may embrace me for all that I am but, more importantly, all that I am not.”

- Ashton Kutcher

*Read the full post here.

I understand now why I was hurting, and why I felt the need to speak my mind. I understand now why I wrote that letter, and why it hurts that it was never sent - that you never read it. I know that I feel all of these things, but they are often unexplainable, and are often accompanied with the feeling of insanity. 

But insanity is often really sanity, masked by the image of modern society, and the expected idea of social normalcy. We all strive for perfect, an unattainable image. We are all crazy. 

It's nice to find some reassurance, some understanding, some repetition of your thoughts in another's words. 

It's the little things we stumble across that give strength through our days. 

Peace and Love. 

Running Away in Love

“A relationship based in love is a constant giving and receiving by each person. You will not lose yourself in a balanced relationship, because the right one for you will also support your needs; it can’t be otherwise.

The key is to pick the right person, and that takes courage. The right person will challenge you. The right person will scare you. The right person will demand the best of you and call you on your inconsistencies. But the right person will also be willing to work through problems when they arise, instead of bailing!”

—

Mastin Kipp, via The Daily Love (via loveisandisnot) I've been on both sides of this. I've been the one running away, but I have also been run out on, and it hurts on either end, truly. But it helps to know that I was escaping something unhealthy - something tearing me apart. I've come to terms with that now, and I have been able to move on and survive. All wounds heal, but it is not the time that heals them. It is the understanding that comes with the time.  Don't be afraid to hurt or to feel - it reminds you who you are, and that you are. It all means something in the end.

Time vs. Definition vs. Understanding

I live to be busy. I love to be busy. “Busy” is generally how I describe myself. 

It’s like self defense. 

If I am busy, I don’t have to think about things. I don’t have to worry about things. I don’t have to plan new things because I don’t have any time. I don’t have to talk to people if I don’t want to, because I have somewhere else to be. 

But lately, I’ve noticed that being busy means I can’t put my heart and soul into anything. Being busy means I have to turn away some opportunities. Being busy means I don’t get to spend time with all the people I want to. Being busy means I miss out on things - on people - on applications - on deadlines - because I have to work on other deadlines. 

It’s like a win-lose situation and I am not really a fan of it. 

But lately, 

I’ve been un-busy. 

I have time to make plans with people and really talk to them - really observe them and hear what they are going through. But I have also had time to think about myself and talk to and observe myself. I know what I am going through too. And I don’t know if I like that either. 

But I am finding more and more that I don’t know who I am. I have spent my whole life defining myself with my busy-ness and my activities - defining myself with my grades and my study habits - that I have rejected numerous personalities that I wish I was simply because I don’t have the time to try. 

But also, why should I want to be somebody else? Why can’t I be happy with the busy self that I have become? Is it because I don’t know where my boundaries are? I don’t know who I am or what I am doing or where I am headed or if I will even get there? Not really. I know where I want to go. I mean, no I don’t know if I will get there and that is scary, but have thrown myself in to the getting there and I am enthralled by the process and I love it.

But I have let so many people define me and label me and I have adopted those labels, even if they were jokes, and now…I am lost in them. Covered by them, and I am drowning and I am trying to escape. 

I just wish I had the time to research and discover and understand myself. I need more than the random moments that I get, or the random things that I discover that help me know and understand. 

I just don’t know where to begin. 

The Little Things, Part 2: Maybe it isn't More than Words

A friend of mine called me pretty yesterday, and apparently that doesn't happen often.

But it wasn't just the fact that he said it that made my day, it was the fact that at that point, I needed to hear it.

Wednesday was a long day. A very long day. I ran a lot of errands that I shouldn't have had to do and dealt with people who were upset with me for reasons over which I have no control. I had a lab class with absolutely no one that I know in it, so it made partner work a little difficult. Especially when paired with one who seems to be either academically impaired, or simply careless about grades. My opinion is on the former, no offense to anyone in particular. But my grades are important and if you can't keep up I will not stop for you. Find someone at your own pace to work with. After a trying lab class, it was strait to work, where I learned that I officially took a $0.60/hr pay cut by becoming a student worker. Not to mention a few excessively annoying people with whom I work breathing down my neck trying to prove themselves as all knowing. I know things too, I promise. That's why you hired me and requested me special for this event. And then, I choked on a rye chip, lost my voice, and felt walked over and under appreciated at my meeting after work.

And honestly, none of these events were incredibly terrible. It was each event on top of the other with no one to vent to, all piled on top of exhaustion after the first week back to class. My optimism was being tested quite harshly.

So, after this day of minor infractions, I trudged home feeling gross and tired and upset. I was in my work clothes, my hair mess, my makeup a mess - just not put together at all. I had just gotten off the phone with a friend, finally allowed to vent and simply get everything out of my system, when I walked up stairs to compliments and smiling faces. It was as simple as that.

All I needed was to be heard, loved, noticed, and appreciated. Sometimes it's nice to know that someone cares or that someone sees you. No one wants to be invisible, and no one wants to deal with things on their own. And even if people do see and do care, when you are having a crappy time with things, it's nice to have that little reminder. And sometimes, where the reminder comes from will take you by surprise, which will make it even better.

And, in the long run, maybe it is the actions that show when someone really truly is there for you and really truly cares. But in passing, you don't notice the actions, or you block them out. You begin to focus on the negative things and you let them get you down, when really all you need are a few kind words to remind you and to set you back on track.

So never hesitate to tell someone what you are thinking - that they look nice, or they are nice, or you love them, or you appreciate them. Show them still through your actions and reach out and care for them, but don't forget to say it to. You never know how much a person needs to hear it.

More Than Words: A Paradox

I think death makes us realize two things:
1. Our words are meaningless
2. Our words have far more meaning than we can comprehend

When someone loses a loved one there is nothing you can say that will take a way the pain. There is nothing you can say that will help them cope easier. Nothing you can say that will help them understand why they are feeling, or help you understand what they are feeling. The most you can do is simply be there for them. Let them vent if they need to vent, cry if they need to cry, hug if they need to hug, or sit if they need to sit. It simply takes time and a whole lot of confusion. But eventually, you cope. You get by. But the words of other people - the "I'm Sorry's," the checking in, the consolation - are all simply protocol, simply respectful. They don't mean much beyond that.

But as difficult as it is to find the right thing to say, it is far easier to find the wrong thing to say. At that point in emotional instability, everything connects back to the death or the source of pain. Dates are sensitive - what if it's a birthday? Or a memory? Or an event that they would have attended? Causation of death is sensitive - what if you usually joke about drugs and alcohol, but that was the cause of death? You can't keep asking how a person feels if it is a constant reminder that they feel like shit. You can't make jokes about death, or off h anded comments that you would normally make. Everything you say must be analyzed and filtered depending on how it might affect the one who has lost, and even then, you miss things. You say the wrong thing and it sends them spiraling.

So what do you do? These are things that we never think of. We simply talk, no filter. We know what we can say around our friends, what we can say around our colleagues, and what we can say in public. We tend to be aware of what is appropriate to say in certain situations. But death rolls in and all is lost. We are thrown in to this confusion of how we are to react to certain things, or what we should say to prevent certain reactions.

I think that, ultimately, we are not as aware as we think we are. Death intensifies everything. So, if something affects us after death, it is an intensification of how we would have felt before. But we brush things off, and we bury things. We don't let others see how we are feeling, and we let certain things slide that we should not. It's the only way that we can get through the world without going mad.

My point, then, is also a paradox.
1. Don't sweat it. You can only control so much of what you say, be it necessary or accidental. You will never be able to anticipate every reaction to everything you say, and if it falls badly, be it unintentional, all you can do is apologize and make note not to slip up the same way in the future.
2. Be considerate. Remember that everything you say can affect the people around you in multiple ways. You have the potential to tear a person down simply using words, but it is not something that should be done often or intentionally. Simply recognizing that what you say can cause problems is not enough - the recognition should create a change and an effort to be a better person.

And that goes beyond words. It goes every aspect of life.

Peace and Love.