All this business about finding one’s self. The never-ending story.
Anyway, I won’t get into that again. I just wanted to share a video. Quite profound, really, the words, the intonation, and the images. You have a hard time not wondering what it all means. What does this all mean? As I sit inside my empty apartment, I have to wonder to myself what this all means?
I feel an emptiness. A hole, deep down, that seems bottomless, but I have started to find things to fill in that hole. Small grains of sand brought forth to fill the abyss, but eventually (if you look hard enough) you will see that this hole is being filled with all of those small, seemingly insignificant grains of sand, and that will fill you with wonder.
Again with the tangents. I will get back to the main point of this spiel. Listen to what this man has to say. Listen to his words, listen to his amazement, and let them fill you up with wonder. Take a moment out of your busy schedule to actually wonder. Be filled with doubt. Be filled with the inexpressible emotions reserved away within. Let them wash over you, and you will know what truths lie within.
Anyway, if his words do not lead you a little closer to a light of truth, then I cannot imagine what could.
I have a continuously growing feeling that I cannot hold back. It rears its head at me, and then it retreats. It fills me up, clouding my mind and bringing me to my knees. My brain feels like it will explode, and my eyes pain to see the world around me. Everything seems to move in slow motion, or maybe it is just me, and the world is a chaotic blur around me. I’m not sure anymore.
Where do I begin?
I feel like I have lost everything. Now there’s a pessimistic sentence… It is a chance for a new beginning. They say that change is good, and I am coming to realize this. But who really wants to experience heart-wrenching change. Who really wants to be thrown into the dark without a light to find their way? Who really wants to fall into the dead winter: cold and helpless against the frost?
No one.
Most of the time, I walk around in a haze. Surrounded by people, passing me by, laughing and smiling: oblivious. But are they the oblivious ones? Maybe it’s me. I’m the oblivious one walking through this world. Unconscious to the fact that people surround me. It seems to me that loneliness is a deeply rooted personal endeavor to keep the world out. Walls and towers are thrown up, strong against a harsh world. It isn’t even safe to peek out to look down at the world that surrounds you.
I have built the walls all of my life. Rarely do I let people in. I smile, and I laugh, but I rarely love. Some might say that it is hard to come to a conclusion like that at such an early age. I might say that they’re wrong. I know me. I am a fiercely loyal friend, if I become friends with someone. I am not the type of person that takes friendship, or love for that matter, lightly. I cannot just throw it away for something else in the world. I cannot just run from friendship and memories like they were nothing. I immerse myself in a friendship, in love, and when it disappears, I am devastated. But you would never know me to be devastated. I put up a front, the walls and towers, and no one can see inside.
That thought scares me. I remember for years that I would keep people out. Most of my life actually. No one knows, so no one has to care, so no one has to worry. Maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe I will outgrow this growing feeling. I can cover it up pretty well, I can bottle it up and put it on a shelf, I can write it down and burn it to ash. But will it disappear completely? When will I be free?
Some may say that the answer to that question is easy. You are free when you set yourself free. Maybe that is true. Maybe that is the simplest answer to the most complicated question. How do I set myself free? Free from this feeling, free from the headache of pain. (Just a side note, I mean free physically and mentally, but I really like living, so let’s not start thinking that this means anything fatal…)
Freedom. An American Privilege. But does that mean you can release yourself from the very walls that you have created to keep you safe? I want to run. I want to run away from the memories, and I want to let the pain fly away behind me like a kite. I want to close my eyes and let the sun’s warmth swallow me. I want to be able to look around and become one of the coherent humans in the world. I don’t like being oblivious, but it is the only way to live within the walls.
I have lived this way for years. Locked behind a mask. Very few have taken a peek behind the mask, but did they actually see me or was I just hiding again? I call myself a loyal friend, and maybe I am, but am I an honest friend? Do I let the people I call friends know who I really am? The only way to answer that question is to ask myself: do I really know who I am? That answer is complex.
I do no know how to know myself. They say that if you experience life, and if you live to the best of your ability you will be able to find out who you are. I look in the mirror, and I see a stranger. I do not know the person in front of me any better than anyone else does. I know this sounds all types of “complainy,” and I know that everyone has problems to equal mine, or they have problems of a magnitude that I do not even want to imagine. I commend them for their grace and elegance. They are walking around in the world, and they are living. Do they know who they are? Do they really know? It is hard to imagine, they say the human brain is a complex machine. But they also say that machines have ghosts. What ghosts are hidden from us?
Point in case, I try to remember anything before the age of five or six, and I cannot even glimpse that time. I cannot remember my life up until that point. Is that a ghost in the machine? Another example, from as far back as I can remember, I have bottled up any of my anger. I do not like to display it for the world to see, and I do not like to express it. Where does the anger go? Why did I decide that that was the best way to deal with it? Another ghost.
Some days, I just want to be able to walk out into the world and know that I am welcome. I want to know exactly who I am, and I want others to be able to know that person. I have read that until you love yourself, others cannot love you. How do you love someone that causes you so much pain? Of course, I blame myself for the wrongs in my life. It is only natural. Self-hatred is only comparable to self-destruction, but they also say that there is a fine line between love and hate.
At this point in my life, I am having a hard time finding reasons to love myself. I have read that you should wake up in the morning, look yourself in the eyes in the mirror, and say, “I love you.” Whenever I do this, it feels insincere and ungracious. A stranger on the street would not be easier to convince. But it is a stranger that lives in the mirror world. I do not know him. He does not convince me that he loves me. I can’t wake up in the morning, look myself in the eyes, and lie. That is self-destruction.
So I guess it is up to time to tell the story. I know that I must love my real self before others will be welcome, but I still have no idea who that is. I do not know who the person is in the mirror. I only know that he causes me irrevocable pain, every day. How can I trust the person in the mirror? How can I trust myself to love myself when love is so easily lost?
I know that I have friends that are by my side, and that love me. I know that I have family that loves me unconditionally. But I do not yet love myself, nor shall I love myself until I know who I am. This seems logical, until you realize that love is not bound by logic.
I guess I am walking into the dark. I am moving forward, at least, but it is not a clear future. Each step takes me closer and further away from pain. I do not know what to say to comfort anyone at this point.
All I know right now, at this minute, is this: I will wake up in the morning, glance at myself in the mirror, and then I will look away. I will go through the actions of getting myself ready, and then I will step out into the wide world. I will be surrounded by people, and still feel lonely, only occasionally taking the time to notice the people around me. I will follow these actions in a closely guarded manner, and no one will know that I feel pain with each breath I take. No one will know that I do not know who I am, and no one will know that I do not love myself: and that will be okay. Because eventually, one day, they will know. But by that time, I will know who I am, and I will love myself.
Tomorrow is another day. I might just look into the mirror and see a familiar face.
Just an addition, below you will find a video that I have taken to heart over the past week. I haven't liked a song this much in quite a while, and I think it sums things up pretty nicely.
The day that everyone bulldozes all of their junk from the confines of the garage, attic, or basement. After the bulldozing, they throw the junk in hodge-podge piles all over their lawn or down their driveways for early-risers to come poke through and buy at insane mark down pricing.
Of course, there is an art to “yard-saling.” Driving down the street at 40 mph, you suddenly see the handmade, fluorescent green sign marked in bold, permanent marker: “Yard Sale.” The car whizzes past the sign, and you are still craning your neck trying to see the address on the sign. Soon, you pull an illegal “U” turn and speed back toward the intersection. Hopping from street to street, you start to lose hope of ever finding the yard sale.
“Did you actually see the address on that sign?”
“Well… Kind of. I thought there would’ve been another sign by now…”
“Does it even exist?”
“It has to! Maybe just a little further.”
And there it is. You just have to have that slight sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, the one that says, “You’re not going to find it!” And that is when you see the heaping piles of children’s clothes, random kitchen utensils and dishes, unmarked cardboard boxes, and larger items: beds, washing machines, scooters, and even the occasional refrigerator. That’s when you know you’re in heaven.
Walking through the piles, you wonder what treasures might be in the cardboard boxes. I’m always searching for “vintage” items. These items were bought long ago and have sat in the attic for the past few decades. Old pill bottles, TIME Magazines from the 50’s and 60’s, glass medical containers for “Applicators” and “Gauze”; you can find all sorts of stuff.
I am always drawn to the large stacks of books. I look for the oldest covers and flip open the cover to look at the copyright date. 1903. That’s when I know I’ve found something special. When a book has survived for over 100 year, no matter the actual value, it is valuable to me. Other times it is just the old paper products in general. Today, I found Polish postcards dating from the 60’s that showed 1945 and 1963 photos of post-WWII Warsaw.
Absolutely incredible.
The addiction cannot be controlled. You are always searching. Always wondering what will be in the next box, or what will jump out at you from behind the heaps of clothing.
And it isn’t just finding a treasure, from there you have the chance to haggle and barter like there’s no tomorrow.
“So, I know you wanted $7.00 for this, but I was thinking more like $5.00.”
long pause: “Yeah… I guess I could go $5.00 for those. They are vintage, though.”
“So, $5.00, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll do $5.00.”
“Do you have change for a $10.00?”
And so on and so on until about noon. Prime time for yard sales is between 8 AM and Noon. After that, either all of the “good” items have been bought or the yard sale is being packed away into the garage until the next Saturday.
There are also fine distinctions to know which yard sale is going to be worth going to. If you ever see a sign with “Estate Sale” written on it, you must go. No matter what, turn that car around and head back. Estate sales usually have the oldest items, with the most variety. They are people cleaning out a whole lifetime’s worth of stuff, and that usually provides you with a feast for the eyes.
The next type of sale is a “Moving Sale.” These usually have some of the best prices because the people are trying to get rid of their stuff extremely fast. They need to go, and their stuff can’t come with them. They practically give their stuff away.
Finally, you have the “Garage Sales” and the “Yard Sales.” There is a fine distinction between the two that makes them categorically different. From my experience, Garage sales have a wider variety of items that aren’t clothing. From electronics to housewares to hardware and tools, you will find more practical items at garage sales. While yard sales have the same type of merchandise as garage sales, it always seems that there is an abundance of clothing and paperback books at yard sales. In my opinion, this makes yard sales the low man on the totem pole.
Next Saturday is just a week away, and I can’t wait to see what I might find. Hope to see the rest of you out there, digging and searching for a treasure.
Too many days are spent sulking in dark rooms and wishing that the past would catch back up with you. It will take time to realize that there is nothing stopping you from hurtling headlong into the future. I guess the best way to describe this feeling is the gut-wrenching feeling of falling. Someone comes along and pulls the rug out from under your feet, and you are suddenly, inexplicably falling. You don’t know when you are going to find the solidity of the ground, but the free fall will eventually end.
I guess that life throws you curveballs, and you just need to learn how to smack them out of the park.
Curveballs, indeed.
Anyway. Love is a fickle thing. The heart is constantly yearning to find someone to attach itself to. Once you find that special someone, it seems like there can be no tomorrow without them. Each night you fall asleep, and their face flashes in your memory--bright and beautiful. Each moment with them keeps you alive, they fill your lungs, they keep your heart pounding in your chest, the world doesn’t matter when they are by your side.
Love can last a lifetime, or be brief, as brief as the moment. You can fall in love in a second, and the world is yours. Nothing in the world could possibly compare to the moment when the person says, “Yes.” They accept your invitation, they agree to breath in the moment with you, to run the race by your side, and create a million memories.
Memories are a record of the past. They can bring you to your knees, crying. They can make your run and jump and yell and scream with joy. The only thing that could possibly compare to reliving memories is creating new memories with the one you love. Hmmm… here I go again, becoming reminiscent.
Not to change the subject, but moving in a different direction: Have you ever wondered why music seems to be fueled by love? Every song is “happy, feel-good” while in a relationship, but once it ends every song seems to be some type of torturous agony. Maybe that is a bit strong, but not really.
Picture this, you are walking along the street. Finally, it seems that you may have controlled the memories of her, until you walk past a storefront and “that song” is streaming out of the open door. It is almost crippling. Bursts of color, feeling, and pain fill you up. Isn’t it odd how quickly the senses can twist a simple sound or a wafting smell into happiness or into pain?
I guess the only way to move forward is to understand that it is okay to be sad. It is okay to feel the pain and to be consumed by it. But you also must remember that once you have been consumed, you must come out the other side reborn into a stronger person. It is okay to remember, but you can never move on if you dwell.
As I write this, I know that I sound like a hypocrite. I am planning on dwelling and being consumed by the pain. Crying is a good release, it seems to ease the daily pain of the loss. Yes, she is gone. We will never have the same relationship again, but eventually we will be able to talk and be friends, and we both will have been able to move on. I would like to emphasize the word “eventually.” I know that it will take a very long time for me to release and let go. I have a way of attaching myself to people and having a very hard time detaching myself. If that makes any sense at all.
In the end, the only difference is whether you are willing to move forward or not. The memories will remain, the senses will linger to torture, and the longing for one last touch will haunt you. The only hope is that these feelings will dampen with time. They will become weaker until they are mixed with all the other underlying pains.
I will miss you, Macey, with all of my heart and soul. Thank you for the memories, thank you for the love, and most of all thank you for being my friend.
Walking to lower campus (University of Utah) is all downhill. It makes going to classes so much easier and coming back to the dorms that much harder.
Down to Legacy Bridge and through the entanglement of construction, through the U-Pass parking lot, and then down to the Student Union Building. Below the Union there is a large lawn area with trees and benches. It is a pretty nice place to relax on a sunny day (if the sun ever decides to come out again…). This was our destination.
Macey and I had both obtained tickets to the Mike Posner concert for last Friday. It was a chilly evening, but the concert started at seven, and we were already late. Thirty minutes late, to be precise, but let’s face it: the opening band wasn’t all that great. We didn’t really care that we were late, we just wanted to make sure that we didn’t miss Mike Posner.
We arrived with a crush of other people pushing past the orange-clad security/chaperone people. It felt like an overly dramatic middle school dance, except most everyone wanted to be there. We arrived just in time for the intermission between the opening band and Mike Posner, so we were able to look around at some of the wares that people were peddling.
It wasn’t much, to say the least. One booth was giving out free vitamin waters, that would soon be opened and thrown over the crowds (what a bright idea, right?). And another booth that was selling tie-dye shirts, skirts, and dresses (the man running the booth reminded me of the word “groovy”). Overall, the wait was almost boring.
Finally, we settled into the long wait. We arrived just before 8:00, and Posner wouldn’t even show until 9:00. And, remember, it was pretty chilly, and we had definitely not dressed appropriately for the cold evening.
Eventually, he did show, and it was amazing. All of this doesn’t sound like much, but this concert was my first real concert that I can remember going to. And by real concert, I mean the type of college concert where a drunk girl stumbles around trying to talk to her friend and ends up having to hold onto a railing to keep herself upright, oh and did I forget to mention that she had high heels on. Or the type of concert that has that odd, almost alfalfa-like smell floating in the air, that I would come to know as the smell of marijuana. Macey had to give me the heads up on that one…
It was a good night. Especially being my first concert. Definitely something I would do again. It was also a great way to start the last week of classes. As of right now, I am exactly three final exams away from closing the deal. My first year of college.
Now there’s an adventure for you.
Short video of the beginning of Mike Posner's Show.
Guest lecturers are, most of the time, amazing. And today did not disappoint. My Plants and Society (a.k.a. by me as Botany) is usually an interesting class, that I only ever sleep in once in a great while. Today was definitely not a sleeping day.
Fred Montague, Ph.D, Professor Emeritus of Biology came to speak. The lecture was aptly named, “Things to Think About: The Global Imperative for Sustainable Agriculture.”
I could have listened to this man speak for hours. I am sure he didn’t even make it through half of what he wanted to say, but what he did say was necessary and almost seemed like it was mandatory to absorb and think about.
I cannot even begin to explain what he talked about because it was such an intricate topic. But I do have a few jewel quotes that stood out to me throughout his conversation with our class.
“Nobody is evil, people are just living out their
world view. That’s why stories are so important.”
“[There are] two great celebrations in life.
One is birth. The other is death.”
“That’s where we could grow the grasses [corn,
wheat, and the like] that domesticated people.”
If you are ever given the opportunity to listen to a lecture by Professor Montague, I implore you to go to it.
Note: When I say today, that doesn’t necessarily mean the same day that I’m posting. I know that this is too much information, but it isn’t entirely useless.
