Yah Vacation!

I just got back from 2 weeks of not being in Ithaca... it was beautiful and refreshing. I got to see a lot of good friends that I wish I could take back with me, some of whom I hadn't seen in 4 years. I did a lot of deep thinking and close talking, and a bit of drinking and spending. And I engaged in a timeless ritual embraced by women of all creeds, ethnicities and values... to show I've changed (and gotten over a man): I've chopped off my hair and gotten a lot of new clothes.

It feels good.

There's much in my head to transcribe of the particular thoughts and conversations I've had in the last 2 weeks... a lot I really want and need to write out. For now, here's a poem I wrote a couple days in when I was making up for lost REM sleep:

A Recurring Dream:

I don't know where were going
but you're driving me home
I know all these roads
all too many
and you're taking too long
for I feel the ending
and I missed the start
but you take the long way
and I know it by heart

I've known you so little
if I count the time
But it always felt different
But I know that movement
and some of these words
And I was lost in that mystery
Whatever that mystery,
we're no longer alone.

I dreamed you dug shallow
where bodies would be
And you moved by your passion
but the hole was empty
I don't know the meaning
But only the theme...
you're loosing your mystery
but you're where you should be.

It's so rare in waking
that you're at the wheel
we smile and talk simple
and it's as it should be
How little I know you
How much I feel different
I dream from the backseat
yet the passengers gone..

I dream from the backseat
but never got home

Finally... Peace.

NOTE/DISCLAIMER - I PURGED THIS POST OF MORE PERSONAL DETAILS. THIS IS JUST THE END.


It's weird how the people who make you the happiest are often the same ones who make you the saddest. I still feel sad but not conflicted, I feel even more lonely and I imagine that will get worse. But I feel at peace, very much at peace.

Some of you have been telling me to do this for a while...

My friend Jesse told me: “You know this is kinda cheesy Orri, but when I get said I imagine myself on a boat where all my sadness and misery is on an island behind me. And I keep putting myself there, in that boat, as it slowly becomes smaller and smaller on the Horizon”

“But where are you going when you move away from it?” I asked. I've always been uncomfortable not having a path towards a future goal, even to the expense of the present.

“I don't know. We never know. But that's what makes life so interesting”

Flight over Fight

For most of my life, when I was presented with anything fearful or unpleasant, I would usually just stare it down. Things only really were hurtful or negative on the first pass, but not so much on the second thought, the third remembrance... and after a while, it would be nothing at all. I hadn't read Dune at that point, but I recognized one of the mantras in it later in life when I did read it. “I will let the fear path through me, and in the end only I will remain...” Yes. All fears were worth facing then, and I felt confident in taking them down.

At some point in my adult life this strategy began to fail me. About a year ago, I found fears that could not be faced down. I found problems that upon analysis, bore no resolution.... philosophically, emotionally... I was changing. I always considered myself, and have been considered strong to fault. I became weak in a lot of ways upon finding these limits. I became restless... distractable, emotional... at odds in general. For the first time in my life, which from what I understand should have been very stressful up until that point, I set up a door in my mind to bar me from thinking about things I found too painful to remember. It wasn't one of the things that were supposed to break me... those things I overcame. It was something far more simple... And it was something that by coming to Ithaca, I thought I could finally overcome.

Sorry for the generality... but anyone could really read this.

It's amazing how adrenaline works. I've been told that if people are primed to experience general arousal in one way or another, they can interpret their emotions in vastly different ways. The urge to fight and flight are often intertwined and shifting, especially if you add any further shades of love, betrayal... whatever nuances we might give names too. They are all similar: just excitement which we interpret from the context. Something between never wanting to look away and never wanting to look back. I've always cherished that feeling, especially when it is nuanced and intricate. I suppose we all do. Good stories are filled with ups and down... conflict and pent up desires. We get very bored when we know how to feel... when everything clicks together and what is right is also what we want. That's when stories end, when we paste on “The End” and have no desire to continue thinking about what happens next or living in such a post-script. To continue a thought, to continue feeling content in a new chapter of life, we need a new conflict, and new intricacies... otherwise we just can't live with ourselves.

Jesse, I assume you know what I mean when I tell you you are right.

My friend Doug advised me to face my fears... and never let anything to do with fear be a factor in any of my decisions. If it wasn't for the fact that Ithaca remained so alluringly dark and challenging to me, it would be an easy, logical choice for me to go to grad school here. The advisor is perfect, the program is a challenging, but good fit for me... and if wasn't for a little bit of drama I can't get out of my head, I'd probably be much more up to the task.

So I tried to face my fears. I faced them with strength, with... love even. They didn't budge, but I found myself giving way. I found myself wearing down little by little. At some point in the not so distant past, I surrendered. I retreated. I did all I could. I fought it. I changed strategies and faced off again. I fought passively and defensively... and in the end, when nothing else would work, I threw in the last ditch efforts, and turned to run away. There's less confusion now between fight and flight... I did my best, and flight won over fight. So now what?

The sad thing is, I have no where to go... it's hard to satisfy the physiological need for retreat when I have such little power to change anything. I can change myself, and I do... but that does not solve these particular issues no matter how I rearrange my mind. It's my surroundings, the things outside of me, connected to me... that needs to change. If I could pack up and change my physical location, the need would be met. I suppose I could do that, but I don't want to sacrifice my career... at least it's not to the stage yet. I know I'm in the right place, and I'm waiting for something... just waiting for something to change. In reality, I can really do is run around in circles inside my head wishing for things to be different. It just leads to emo bullshit really. I really don't have time to be moody or stagnant, and I hate finding myself that way.

For a moment last week, walking down the gorge trail with a friend, I found a moment of aesthetic rapture. It was a rare moment for me these days, because I used to live between many such moments. I find a lot of pretty little sights down the gorge on walks to and from school quite frequently, but this was one pointed out to me, and because it had been passed over once, it was all the more beautiful. That's just how passed-over things work.

“Stand right here”

And so I did. And everything about that moment was truly beautiful. The water, the setting sun. The wind... and the person downstream. I wanted to hold onto it all forever, to stop in that moment, never reaching the bottom of that trail... But if I slowed, if I stopped... the reality I envisioned could not be thus manipulated. All I could do was keep walking, and hope that such moments of inspiration would come again. Serenity can never be captured...

A documentary on the Dalai Lama I just watched recently talked against this feeling I just described. Nothing is immortal. No desire should be immortal. All beautiful things are on loan to us, and by seeking to capture them we only cause ourselves pain. The Tibetan monks work for weeks on beautiful sand mandalas, and upon completion, release the colored sand into the rivers. I would make a horrible monk. Aside from the boobs even... There is much in my life that is constantly shifting, but other things which of whisper eternal and real desire. Thus far these things have only met up with the likes of all that is temporary. It's kinda lonely like that. I feel very out of place among my own kind when I think of these things... like a different sub-species, or a teenager.

I walk home a lot telling myself my time would be spent logically and diligently, and faced down the clusterfuck in my head. Generally speaking, the clusterfuck usually wins. I find myself without inspiration, and I tell myself I will wake up and feel different. I don't, so I tell myself I will get to my office and feel different... When I find myself wasting time staring at papers rearranging themselves into more emotionally salient topics, I tell myself I just need to walk home to feel different... I never am... I'm trapped, and I'm just running with no where to go.

Walking Away From Olemas

There's a story by Ursula Leguin called "The Ones who walk away from Olemas":

http://www.miafarrow.org/omelas.html

The story outlines her thoughts based on this study by William James:

Or if the hypothesis were offered us of a world in which Messer's. Fourier's and Bellamy's and Morris's utopias should all be outdone, and millions kept permanently happy on the one simple condition that a certain lost soul on the far‑off edge of things should lead a life of lonely torture, what except a specifical and independent sort of emotion can it be which would make us immediately feel, even though an impulse arose within us to clutch at the happiness so offered, how hideous a thing would be its enjoyment when deliberately accepted as the fruit of such a bargain?

I've reread this story a couple of times lately. I read it first in high school.... and it really hit home with me. It described a Utopian society that somehow maintains it's perfection through the suffering of a neglected and abused child, who suffers on everyone's behalf. People are raised knowing about the child, and at some point they see the child, get moody for a couple days and get over this, finding the suffering worth the price of the their society. And a few walk away from Olemas knowing nothing about the world outside of it, but knowing exactly where they are going. The story could be interpreted on a dig on Christianity, or other sacrifice-based ideologies.

In light of my values when I first read the story, I wanted to rewrite the story so the child is engaged in this willingly, that she/he would be sort of a Dalai Lama of volutary suffering: chosen in some ritual in which this kid was isolated as a god, not just a kid. The super-human aspects of the child would somehow make this society ok, as the child-god would know what he/she was doing in agreeing to this arrangement. I worked on a story based on one of the people walking away from Olemas. (Which is crazy since the Olemas writing is already based on someone else's writing). The main character would be mentored by the mother of the child who's given up caring on the whole deal and thought about walking away herself. The main chatacter walks away from the society before learning about the truth of the child, and both the child and the girl leave the society in the end.

I don't think like something like that now, I was just trying to justify the moral implications of the story and essentially Christianize it. I like the ideas of voluntary simplicity and personal sacrifice, but the idea of one's torture or death leading to heavenly bliss does not seem like a fair deal... i don't find it very beautiful. Jesus may well have been deified by the later generations of his followers in much the same way that I wanted to write that story: to justify an inhumane trade at the heart of his teachings. Whether Jesus was God or just a special man was the heart of the major disagreement that brought the first religious leaders together to agree on a canon of religious texts. They voted, and majority won.

I miss the passion of having some kind of a faith, the certainty and the coincidences and the signs that don't seem to happen anymore. But there is no spiritual system that seems to fully embrace the ethics I've collected, and I'm not about to make one up or adopt one. I embraced one in the past because it introduced itself to me directly, but nowadays I'm not as sure how to interpret that introduction.

So here's what I do believe in:

Simplicity - walking gently and humbly regardless of how smart or badass one actually is (or not smart and not badass). Not being a huge comsumer of the world around me, demanding simple things out of life, and negatively affecting life around me as little as possible (that's part of the reason I don't eat meat anymore).

Service - Seeing people as people, nothing better or worse. Doing good and being genuinely (not superficially) nice to "enemies", and strangers as well as friends, and trying not to be a burden to other people.

Anonomous good deeds - good deeds are best unplanned and unadvertised. When people have nice things happen to them that has no name or strings attached, they are more apt to enjoy it without wondering if they owe anything in return, and are more likely to pay it forward since they can't pay it back. I also think that people should always do good for good's sake and have that be the motivating factor. Doing good works for credit, whether a belief that God rewards them or society will reward them... is not the right motivations.

Evolutionary, but not selfish thinking - The story of evolution has become more artistically and philosophically fulfilling to me than religious explanations, even apart from the whole truth aspects for it. There are parts where I think the stories are pretty much the same, and I like those parallels. I think society can benefit from an evolutionary mindset by allowing us to see ourselves as both one of many species, as a unique species with special obligations to not fuck up the world. Science can slowly shed light on what makes us human, but it never tells us what to do with itI don't like it when evolution is used as a justification to care about one's own reproductive fitness or personal life at the expense of other human needs or suffering.

Humanism - I think people are "improving" as a species in their own way, and I like thinking about that goal.

Pastafarianism - I have been touched by his noodly appendage.



What I don't believe in:

1. God as an Asshole - The God of most kinds of Christianity is a petty dick most of the time. If you read the old or even the new testament for what it is, even adjusting for the intended historical audience and modern interpretations... he just was. A lot of people bypass this by ignoring a lot of it, and believing in a good God anyways... but most of the time these people still believe God tortures people for eternity for becoming what the world made them or not saying the magical religious words or doing the right religious rituals. If there is a God, and I can only guess there is and never test... he's not an asshole.

2. Objective reality - I hate the "well its true for you" line, or mixing up the concepts of perception and reality. What I believe is not instantly true, and my perceptions influence how I live my life, but the world is a lot bigger than things which directly influence me. I find these statements selfish and ignorant at best, and dangerous at worst.

3. Rituals and Rules - just never got most of that stuff. I don't follow any rule unless the rule has logical, or deeply personal underpinnings.

4. Blind leaps of Faith - Nah. I'm ok with uncertainty and running theories as to the nature of the world around me. I won't make an absolute sweeping statement about their being one God with all these attributes any more than I would assume that there is nothing bigger than humanity. I don't know how conscious the universe is of itself or whether God is apart of that, but I don't like the thought of human needs and values topping out the moral and mental universal charts. We are just too damn retarded.

research, ethics, grants, stats, and rats

Busy as hell here, thus not posting.

And when I do post, I should be working... but often enough I can't get into gear.

So, what's new:
Done with the NSF grant, and I want to be my advisor when I grow up. He was editing with me until 15 minutes before the grant deadline because I'm a procrastinating bitch.

Prelims and essays for profs which are smarter than God: I can really imagine one prof explaining to God why he doesn't exist and getting him to back down.

Research hasn't been happening much, not so much due to me but due to equipment malfunctioning.

Etc - I've been too busy to notice I don't have much of a social life or an artistic venue. Or maybe I just stopped caring. I've looked into dating people, but thus far... no one really gets my attention, when I do have time to talk to them. A lot of people at Cornell are very career focused... the first year of grad school especially demands I be a bit selfish with my time. Most people are as busy as I am, so it's slow going to find people who share my values. I have people to have a drink with or hang out with... but other than Mark and Tali, no one that I interact with more deeply now. It would help if I had a car: there's some people I knew from high school who it would be cool to see more of, but as it stands now that's kinda hard.

And most people I've are either non-academics who I can't speak nerdy to, or they have an academic stick up their ass (one guy explained to me the philosophical flaws of Harry Potter and how he could write it better).

Walking Away From Olemas - I got into pretty invigorating philosophical and scientific talk with a new friend last night, which was cool. It's been a while since I tried looking past the daily hassles to the big picture of why I live or what I want to accomplish with my life. I'll be going to Boise Idaho over Christmas (As well as stopping by Ann Arbor for a couple days) so I imagine some of those conversations will come up. I'm about to post on that next.

Walking Home.

(NOTE - I MODIFIED THIS POEM 11/13/07)


Damn creative urges.

Maybe once I post this bit of poetry I'll be able to concentrate on the other kind of nerdy writing. Unfortunately it definitely calls on different parts of me to write about experiencing episodic memories and writing about the science behind them.

Life is good, Although I'm not as hardworking/motivated as I feel should be.

But here's a poem I've been toying with on and off for the last couple weeks:

Walking Home.

The wind was cool I breathed you in,
You felt cold but the sun shined when I loved
From Halloween to Christmas memories shine
In lights outside and heat within
And you were there to share it

I ran away, you found me out
And made me a believer
What we sought was simple,
It was who we were apart.

I just kept walking with you.
From Halloween to Christmas
Through falling leaves and wood smoke
Lights upon the snow…

It’s so strange…
How you had fought for this
Squandered your words
On my understanding
You made me a believer
When you did not believe

And it’s still strange
Time and time upon the images
That should be fading fast
But you’re still missing
When I smell the falling leaves
and I’m walking home alone.

It’s not news for me to be let down
If there was a way I’d take my fall
before you pushed
I’d take your blame and then the motive

I take a stand upon the trail
As if anyone would notice
that I missed the beat
Of one foot to follow the other
But I’m not inclined
To feel I’m walking home

I’m still here, but I’ll keep moving
I’m still here and I’ll go home.

Distracted

The problem with trying to read without listening to music is there is too much to think about, and when the words aren’t as clear and interesting and fascinating as the other things cluttering my head… I find myself distracted. Right now I’m reading up on the neuroscience of vision… or trying to. Thoughts of Myanmar, of service work I wish I had time for, of needing pizza and beer with friends who no longer live in state, of men in general sucking… of death (not mine… a friend’s boyfriend). Mostly thoughts stemming from that suicide really… of empathizing for the people involved, of being mad of the people not capable of empathizing with someone who the world crushed like only reality can…

Grr. People are bastards… And somehow it’s always the ones who pride themselves on their empathy or morality that end up being not so empathetic or moral. I need to hang out with more people who introduce themselves as hell-bound in a handbasket-style bastards. But I really do believe it’s takes someone who knows what pain feels like to empathize it… and that means there’s a lot going on in the world that a lot of people really can’t empathize. It makes me angry to watch people close their eyes and turn their mind to happier things, because so much human pain is preventable... fixable. Ignorance, especially the ignorance we choose, does a shitload of damage.

The problem with listening to music to help one concentrate is all the songs is that too many songs are about love and longing, and I am too angry and pessimistic when it comes to thoughts right now find those songs relaxing.

As I get older, I get more and more used to the ideas that most people do when they get older. I stop dating people for wanting to direct the next Donny Darko, and start looking for the things that are long-term material. At this stage I’ve figured my life out I know what I want… and it’s not really out there. At least if empathetic mature, secular-monk scientist types exist at Cornell, I’m too busy to find them. Most people my age here are also Cornell grad students, which mean they should have their nose in a book en route to making their career a reality, and most people here chose that life because it’s fulfilling. And it is for me, as long as what I do outside of it involved helping others, and as long as I find myself amid deep relationships: being able to give and receive. I imagine people like me are extremely busy…

Especially when I find myself disappointed/mad at the best friend I have out here.

Perhaps I wouldn’t be so busy if I wasn’t so distracted and/or lonely. But to fix the lonely problem before getting to this stack of papers wouldn’t really help me that much either.

Answer

"Answer"
-Sarah Maclachlan

I will be the answer
At the end of the line
I will be there for you
While you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty
I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance
If you can't look down

Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind
Take me to a
Place so holy
That I can wash this from my mind
The memory of choosing not to fight

If it takes my whole life
I won't break, I won't bend
It will all be worth it
Worth it in the end
'Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all burned out
You'll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind

Utopia and Home

A friend (Lauren) is doing a project in which she is collecting people's personal definitions of utopia and home. Here's is what I passed on to her:

Utopia - an impossible dream worth chasing.

Home - (A bit of freewriting on this subject a year or so old) -
It was good to be home. It felt great to be going somewhere with you: to be together with a single destination in mind. It wouldn't matter where we went or where stopped along the way... You were the one I wanted by me when I wanted to get away from everyone else, and when I couldn't bear to be alone.

Missing.

A bit of free-writing:

It takes hold of me most often as my days close down and I begin the long walk home. I do most of my best thinking while walking, at least about these sorts of things.

Perhaps it's just the Fall, although it's been there before in the summertime, but not as strong. A context with less interference: Ithaca in Autumn at sunset, and the beauty of it runs me down very quickly.

It fails to take hold when there are people around me, but when they go it takes me back... to the point where I no longer seek to surround myself with other people, least of all people who don't feel like home. I guess that's what it like, I feel like I'm locked out of home with curtains drawn. There are people inside, but they can't hear me, and they don't have a sense that I am missing, and try as I might I can't open the door or find my way back. It's not my home anymore perhaps... but it's all I ever had.

I feel like I've found a secret beautiful place, one that no one else can see or feel the way I do. I sit and see, smell, and feel a windy field of flowers... and it takes me over like falling in love. But to turn around and tell someone would only incur them reminding me that no... those were weeds, and the wind is not worth breathing in... pollution and all, the facts of life. Logic is logic, so of course they are right. What does it matter? "Come inside" they say, and they care when they pull me out of my little world. So I sit with them in their own heads, lives and homes... but I am still missing where I feel I should be. I'm still locked out, and no other place is worth living in... regardless of what is true, that is how I feel.

I was happy, although maybe happy wasn't the right word. It was stressful, but that wasn't the journey's fault. It had to be hard to reach my destination. I liked where I was going, I liked who I was traveling with, terrain, and minor consequences didn't matter as long as I stayed on the path. But I lost the path... or it lost me. And so I made a new one, and became new myself. We are all the sum of our journeys. And on this new path, my destination was more solid and terrain easier. To top it off, I became more accustomed to the road... alone.I am happy with my identity to an extent which I haven't been in a long time, but it is lonely in my new head, at least it is very much in Ithaca in Autumn.

There is a lot that I miss...

Global Warming Fast - Sept 4

This was a letter I got from the Democratic Courage organization on my campus. I'll be fasting with them on Sept 4, and I think I'll personally extend it a day or two (I committed to a 2 day fast).

Here it is, if anyone wants to join me and sign up:
<<<
Dear Christina,

Will you join me in a fast to stop global warming this September 4th?

Click on the link below to sign up, or paste it into your web browser.

http://www.climateemergency.org/joomla/index.php?option=com_attend_events&task=view&id=3&Itemid=194

I'm increasingly convinced that polite letter writing and lobbying alone won't cut it when it comes to tackling the global climate crisis. My own experience, as well as several recent studies, shows that politicians only take the kind of dramatic action to address this crisis when there are people putting themselves on the line for change. It's been true from the Boston Tea Party to Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. Now it's time for us to increase the intensity of our actions as well to meet the great crisis of OUR time.

So join me and sign up now:

http://www.climateemergency.org/joomla/index.php?option=com_attend_events&task=view&id=3&Itemid=194

>>>

Defining Orriana-ism

So a church emailed me today to try to recruit me to their numbers... It's a church label that I used to sometimes attend in Ann Arbor, and it was good for a church... but still church. They'd focus on service to the community and talk about christian ethics in terms of simplicity and global warming rather than regurgitated and bland self-help book stuff or doctrine thats bland at best and wrong at worst.

It did get bland sometimes... it was still church.

I like spiritual communities, and occasionally one can find one within a church. I'd meet a few people I can relate to, who react to events that move beyond chance the way I do, and who have similar morals for similar reasons. But most of the time I find people who remind me of the same dangerous and hateful things I was raised with... which did more damage than good to a lot of people around me.

I'm still trying to figure out if there's a better way to find a spiritual community. I definitely feel now, that Christianity isn't necessarily the best place to find those kinds of people. The stance of the American church does not tend to value their environment or value life (other than human). Whereas the Jewish group at EMU hosted charities to benefit the whole community, all the Christian ones just sought converts and held bible studies. Screw that. Where is "I was hungry and you fed me, I was in prison and you visited me" in all that? Where is "live simply, work with your hands" and "don't let your right hand see what the left is doing" when good deeds are done? The values I espouse are about loving all people... especially those rejected and unloved, for no simple reason that they should be loved, and that evil comes from people who had evil done to them. Someone has to break the cycle of that, which means loving your enemies and turning the other cheek. It's about putting yourself last, believing in justice, service and responsibility. It's about forgiveness, and always being willing to sacrifice for others.

But I don't meet too many Christians who believe in this mindset or behavior pattern over say... reading a book and protesting science being taught in classrooms. And it pisses me off. The fact that the American church is highly pro-war... for any war... and this one being a terrible and meaningless war... pisses me off even more.

I've come to a place where I'm ok not labeling myself Christian because of this. I have no problems with Christ's teachings, but I have no need for dogma, ritual or faith as defined by blind leaps into space when some religious leader tells you to do so. That shit kills.... and I've seen it kill. I let it eat me away for years. If one believes in a "loving" God that tortures people for eternity for not saying some religious magic words or performing some other little ritual, what will their own love look like? That is not unconditional love... that is a controlling, inconstant and meaningless affection... a very bipolar god I would not want to spend any time with. There are people who by evangelical definitions are doomed in hell who I would gladly give my life for and switch places, because I know they are good, and I know they are beautiful, even more so than so many people who have said those magic words into space. I'd go to hell for a lot of people if it would do any good. But the answer I got when I prayed into this? That's the point. That's what Jesus was supposed to be about. If there is an eternal hell for anyone, the gates of hell did prevail. If every knee will bow and tongue confess, why will some still get punished? There has to be a journey... there has to be mistakes and lessons and cycles of growth, because that is what being human is all about. A movie where the characters did nothing but sit still and worship in other bliss would be insanely boring, and so would such a heaven.

The love that comes from the followers of such a god will love in much the same way, turning against their relatives when they are gay, smiling forcefully towards any they believe are doomed if isn't for their magical lifeline. That isn't me... and the last vestiges of that belief system will be worked out of my system sooner rather than later.

So what am I? "Spiritual but not religious" is probably the best label... and only if I have to have one. I certainly don't feel I need one. I have experienced things that go beyond chance and I have met others who have had similar experiences. I do believe in something beyond the directly observable, and in some manner, I do believe in God. I just don't think he/she/it's an asshole. But everything I do "believe" is probabalistic. I don't know for sure if there is a God, I don't know for sure if when I die I will get to sit down for coffee with this cosmic presence.... I won't know... until I die. So all I have is a guess, a guess which if I'm very lucky, can be occasionally tested as a hypothesis through prayer, meditation and interacting with the world. And I'm ok with that.

Maybe some day I'll work out the central tenets of Orrianaism... but for now, here's that letter I wrote back to the Ithaca Vineyard:

Hey Rebecca,

I checked out your church website a little while ago and found that I don't think I'd fit in so well. The Vineyard I attended before was very service-oriented and was in no way connected to politics like a lot of other American churches, and was in now way, well... fundamentalist like a lot of other protestant or nondenominational churches. But something on your website gave me cause for concern, and I'm guessing I'm interpreting it correctly, it simply said "We believe that the Bible is the inspired, infallible word of God"

This leads me to believe that the church does not take an open stance to evolution, or perhaps growing research supporting the idea that homosexuality is fixed and therefore should not be treated as a sin... or that similar stands are taken where people choose their interpretation of the bible over things which I believe is probabilistically far more like to be true, and standing against those things perhaps even ethically wrong.

I believe the bible is valuable, but I believe to take words translated from fragmented manuscripts in dead languages that in most cases vary between copy to copy, one will make an idol out a collection of texts that even at best, is fallible just like any human teacher would be.... and that's only assuming Christian denominations could agree on a translation or interpretation. I really don't find the belief that the Nicean council could simultaneously put only the most inspired and true books together out of hundreds while these same leaders were persecuting other religions a necessary or even likely belief. If anything... I think little statement is very divisive, and when taken seriously enough, a dangerous belief that makes one loose site of what we know of Christ's teachings.

I really don't know where I could find a spiritual community out here where people do share my beliefs, or even if I need to find one. It certainly would be nice, but I'm still looking.

thanks anyways,

Christina

No such thing as accidents.

Today's Mantras:

I don't believe in accidents, in that I don't necessarily believe in coincidences on a cosmic level. The only accidents are the ones we make ourselves.

I don't believe in guilt, or regret, unless I hurt someone other than myself.

Mistake is just a more negative way to say lesson.

I don't believe in mistakes, except for the ones we need to make, certainly not when we are aware we need to to make them.

Sometimes the jump is worth the fall, and I really can't live without that feeling.

A Secret

I'm camped out by the river
where only I might know to go
and no one else can find it
'cept the ones I've never told

you can't take back whats given
let it fall back, stay or flow
The river's always been here
so what if water comes and goes?

And I can wait and sit here
for a moment, for a while
But only if you let it out
may air you'd breathe be mine

It's Pretty Here =)

Ithaca is a very emotive and moody woman... but that's why I love her. On the walk up the gorge trail every day there are little change and new surprises, the water rushing over the gorge rises and falls, it's misty or clear, and people leaves stacks of stones all over the place merely to show they were there. Sometime a pile of flower will be in the middle of the water for you to question it's existence, sometimes a painted rock. Sometimes people are meditating in the overhangs by a waterfall, sometimes a (cute) guy is sitting reading a book on a rock in the middle of the river. Once I saw some young lovers sleeping in under the waterfall, holding each other... not caring a bit that the world could see them where they were, mainly because where they were was beautiful.

I love Ithaca.

And the gorge trail is just as beautiful at 4 AM... I'll miss it in the winter time.

An awesome windstorm hit the other day, pulling tiles off rooftops, blowing branches off trees and begging people to feel passionate like she was. Mark said he was jogging past a tree that was completely uprooted. He called me the other day to make me feel better after reading my last blog post after Tali directed him here.
I guess since Mark and Tali are both reading this I should be careful what I say...

So if anyone needed to know about that secret fantasy I've had of sex with Mark and Tali where Mark is wearing a Princess Leia golden bikini and Tali is dressed like R2D2... Feel Free, but I guess It's not safe to talk about it on the ol' blog anymore. You all know what a Star Wars Fan I am... it was bound to pop into my head one of these days.

Wind in the Wheat...

Below is Chapter 21 from the Little Prince: one of the best children books, and best books ever.

It was then that the fox appeared.
"Good morning," said the fox.
"Good morning," the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
"I am right here," the voice said, "under the apple tree."

"Who are you?" asked the little prince, and added, "You are very pretty to look at."
"I am a fox," the fox said.
"Come and play with me," proposed the little prince. "I am so unhappy."
"I cannot play with you," the fox said. "I am not tamed."
"Ah! Please excuse me," said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"You do not live here," said the fox. "What is it that you are looking for?"
"I am looking for men," said the little prince. "What does that mean--'tame'?"
"Men," said the fox. "They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?"
"No," said the little prince. "I am looking for friends. What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . ."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . ."
"It is possible," said the fox. "On the Earth one sees all sorts of things."
"Oh, but this is not on the Earth!" said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
"On another planet?"
"Yes."
"Are there hunters on that planet?"
"No."
"Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?"
"No."
"Nothing is perfect," sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . ."
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
"Please--tame me!" he said.
"I want to, very much," the little prince replied. "But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand."
"One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ."
"What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince.
"You must be very patient," replied the fox. "First you will sit down at a little distance from me--like that--in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . ."
The next day the little prince came back.
"It would have been better to come back at the same hour," said the fox. "If, for example, you come at four o'clock in the afternoon, then at three o'clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o'clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . ."
"What is a rite?" asked the little prince.
"Those also are actions too often neglected," said the fox. "They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all."

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added:
"Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarassed.
"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.
And he went back to meet the fox.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose--" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . ."
"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

Waiting for glue to dry.

This post contained personal stuff, and has moved on to a better place... a farm in the country, if you will.

setting the record straight/ personal mottoes

(The beginning of this post has been moved elsewhere due to personal-ness.)

But here's my mottoes of the day or week to keep my head straight. Some of these are old, half of these are new... but all of them are things I'm currently trying to live by.

1. People do their best even when it's not good enough. Let it be.
2. Never label anyone less than human... or anything more.
3. To call someone a fool is to prove you don't understand.
4. Never forget, and always forgive.
5. There's a difference between being sorry, and being different.
6. Better to strive for no one and be surprised than lower your standards.
7. People make mistakes, They have accidents... But there is no such thing as a coincidence.
8. The meeting of two individuals is like the meeting of two chemical substances. If there is any reaction, both are transformed - Carl Jung

I'm a sucker...

Whatever the male equivalent of a damsel of distress is... that's what I'm a sucker for. I just am.

In other news, I've given up on a password-protected post. I'm just too damn lazy. But being that most of the weird privatish stuff (most, not all) is over and done and easy to digest, I'll start posting again soon.

But for today, I'll continue to be a workaholic.

I promise you walls...

I will be creating a password-protected blog soon... but until then, it's just one another of those days. I still love my job, I still miss my friends... and there's still a lot of drama in Cornell. But anger only sticks with me only lasts so long.


I Promise You Walls - Shiny Toy Guns

Loneliness
Is more than we'll ever feel
Blind as you are
Watching everything
When we die
Faith is lost...
Once again
Taking hold of all we are

Loneliness
Or should we say something more?
Oceans arise
Washing over me
Cold company
Dark shades of harmony
Chasing the lies no one believes...


Who says we die?
Before we live
I promise you walls of grace
...to carry on
When we're lost
..We’ll find a way

Quick Update...

I'll do a real post later, but quick update:

1. It's a freaking soap opera out here at Cornell in the Department... My ex broke up with his gf and she was actually the first person I ended up hanging out with. She believes Mark cheated on her with one of his best friends... my friend Tali... and has shared those suspicions with other people in the department. (I'm completely convinced there isn't anything behind them). And then I show up... which means I need to be that much more careful around everyone in this love triangle... or should i say "hate triangle"?

Tali would you be ok if I referred to it as an "issues triangle"?

Anyways, I discovered the best way to avoid weird social situations with people at school is to spend lots of time at school. Thus far it's worked wonders. That and a solid buzz of adrenaline and anxiety does wonders for weight loss.
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2. I FREAKIN' love my job... I have a labcoat now, which as you all know is the epitome of sexiness.

3. I miss my friends. =(

4. House I moved into and the people it contains is pretty good =), walk to work every day is beautiful... I don't think I'm even going to invest in a bus pass. It would be a 45 min commute no matter what I did, and creek and waterfalls on the way are great therapy... and also great for weight loss.

5. I'm converting to lesbianism.

6. Ok I'm not. (Sorry Colin), but I am contentedly single and eschewing the male gender for the most part... Enough changes in my life for now and emotional things for my mind to wrap itself around. In due time I hope to be married to my lab and have rat babies... but we'll see if my lab is afraid of that kind of commitment.

By the way... the personal blog.

As a few of you know, I have a second blog on which I put things either a) just for myself (writing i don't want all over the internet) or b) too personal for this, my general blog linked to myspace.

I've come to the conclusion that there is a lot I want to talk about with people via digital communication in this fashion... Personal things I don't necessarily want anyone browsing on myspace to find or any random people I'll meet through Cornell. Chances are, if you are reading this... I do trust you, but you aren't the only people who can find me via myspace. There are more casual friends who WILL find me through myspace and I'll want to update on my life... but as I go to a town where my closest friends are not necessarily within the town, I might want to do something blog-format for the scattered inner-circle.

So, if you are a friend who is a regular blog reader who wants to read my writing about things such as a) spirituality and b) my emotional and personal life issues (and hey, most of my issues probably stem from spirituality... so it's mostly spirituality) let me know and I'll hook you up with whatever link and password is necessary for you to view it... I'm going to be setting up my personal blog to be friends only.


This blog will stay as it is, but I will perhaps talk or hint to emotional or spiritual things a bit less than I have been lately...

My Thesis Raped Me.

So the procrastination ended to day when I found out that my thesis needs to be in within the next 2 weeks to the honors college or bad things happen... which means I need a solid copy sent to the honors department head and my advisor in the next couple days... (preferably tomorrow) which means my original plans of coming back in the Fall to defend and working on the second and third draft over the summer are shot (I heard originally that as long as my thesis was in before I walked this wasn't a problem, and I walk in December since there's no summer ceremony.)

Well I was wrong...

My dad gets in town tomorrow night, there's a going away party for me then... Wed I show my dad around a bit and load the van, and by Thurs night I'll be in Ithaca again... Friday I'll be meeting my grad advisor.... So what work needs to be done needs to be done tonight... as does studying for my stats final.

So yes... time to pull out the caffeine pills and make miracles happen.

A Solemn and Trivial Hello.

I did a bit of free-writing about some things awaiting me in Ithaca, much of which is a little too personal for this blog, and these excerpts are borderline. But most of you who understand it I trust it with, so here it is:

I could easily forget it all, to pretend you are just like any of the rest, until it really is so. But in those other cases, the good could be more easily sifted from the bad, the gifts were a bit more mutual and eternal and the misunderstandings could eventually be nothing more. But the weight of what you did leave me with is much heavier, and the memories would eat me away from the inside even if I did not rehearse them consciously. In the perfect world, I'd still retain you, I'd still cherish you... and nothing but the physical would have to change. But the physical and broken promises is all you left me with, giving me a a bittersweet aversion and attraction to all similar emotions that can come afterwards for others.... for you were a wonderful mistake, and told wonderful lies. There can never be worse and they can never be better. I have come to the point where I can remember the good and forget the bad, but the reality still is I never meant to you what you did to me. Your actions were clear enough, and I've been hurt enough.

I will do my best to walk the line between not saying anything too good or too bad, yet not being awkward to the point of saying nothing at all. Your world is yours... and though mine will be very parallel, it can be perfectly parallel: never intersecting. Yet that resolution will draw a great deal of strength from me as I uphold it against many pressures against it.

One can never love without opening themselves up to be hurt. Yet I chose my path not for love, and not for hate, but for logic, faith and the decision not to limit any decision by fear. I know what is coming, I know it will break me on a semi-daily basis, and I know I will either reset my psychological limits or reach the end of what is probably a weakened biological potential for these sorts of things.

But this is my path, and I can only control my own steps, not yours. So hello again: a polite, solemn and trivial hello.

Enjoying the Rain when it isn’t raining.

It’s been a while since I posted, yet there have been about 4 different half-baked ideas of things worth writing about in my head… so I’ll just try to distill them all in a couple short posts over the next couple days.

I remember when Roberto first moved into the house he is moving out of this weekend. He looked out the window of a room I once rented when I first moved to Michigan, the room he was now moving into. He looked out the window amid a conversation:
“Hey Orriana”
“What?”
“You ever climb on the roof?”
I looked out… the roof did just our just under my window and lead to the side…
“No”
“Well why the hell not?!”

Months later (when it had warmed up a bit) Roberto and his girlfriend Lauren were packing up his things and I was downstairs, having moved back into the house myself in May. By this point, Roberto was effectively already living with Lauren... but kept himself from moving his things an hour away until mid-June. I was in the middle of something at this point, though I don’t remember what the something was.
“Hey Orri, c’mon upstairs” Roberto said yanking me excitedly from my desk.
“I gotta finish something”
“No you don’t… c’mon”
And so I came, and followed him onto the roof. It was a beautiful day. Lauren, Roberto and I lay there looking up at the sky for a while and people walked or drove by either failing to notice the strange site of 2 girls and a guy on a roof, or noticing all to well. This particular nick of the roof was quite comfortable. We lay at a 30 degree angle with our feet meeting the side of the house. I inhibited my idea of jumping up and down on the roof above my housemate's room...

I wondered why I hadn’t done this sooner.

And I guess it was because I didn’t have anyone to do it with.

I’m one of those people who has the desires and balls (especially the testicles) to do a good many simple yet inpracticle things, as long as it’s with one good ally… Like running or dancing barefoot in the rain. It’s something I generally desire to do in any good rainstorm… but one can’t dance alone, at least not in the rain… unless one is truly and definitely alone. And so I learn to ignore the rain like sane people do.

After one such day of lamenting that there was no one to dance with me (and thinking about doing this post, but never writing it)… a friend called and told me to “Enjoy the rain”

Not a phrase you hear often… One normally does not appreciate the lack of sunshine, although I have always loved it. That simple phrase by my friend meant a lot more to me than I’m sure it did to him. But what made that phrase meaningful to me was he never intended for it to be meaningful… it was his natural thought.

I think the best things in life are things are coincidently coincided like that, when they do come along.

So yes, on a practical sense, I’ll I have to do is finish my thesis, stats class, jobs, and in exactly 2 weeks I’ll go to an old home that has ceased very much to be a current one… I’ll miss the rituals that have become so recently addictive… goofing off with my lab mates… Doing lots of talking during a movie over pizza and beer, and hanging out on rooftops.

I find myself looking back and not forwards as I get ready to turn 25… I'll try not to do it too much, but I have far more land mines to avoid in Ithaca rather than genuine things to look forward to.

Which brings me to my plan of being single for life. But that will be another post. =)

-Orriana

Carl Sagan's Pale Blue Dot

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47EBLD-ISyc

2 days... 90 minutes of sleep.... and still wanting to think.

Sometimes I feel very sharklike, in that I need to keep moving at all times in order to stay (in this case psychologically) alive. When I have little to do, I desire to do little: when I have much to do, that's when I find the desires to do things more meaningful with the time I have less of, or I find myself looking more closely at my life.

So yes... two days ago I was up at 5, then I went to school went to the lab and at 7:30 PM started painting the interior of a house until 6:30 AM. I took a 90 minute nap before returning to school, and after I left the lab that night I went painting again. It's 3:30 AM and I'm physically exhausted. But mentally, I'm needing to for a long hard jog.

Within these two days with a 90 minute nap between, I talked to a girl who had went through a very similar breakup to my painful one in September (unapologetic ownership of ex-girlfriend porn and all!). Only she broke up with her ex in the last 2 days... so a lot of the negative feelings were much more fresh. I talked with her about many things as we painted together on our summer job: As modern women we do not want to sacrifice for others and follow them by sacrificing our career, but our careers will have a very rigorous road until quite long after I'd rather meet someone to spend the rest of my life around (I.E. Until I have tenure somewhere, I can have no solid ties to any physical location... and so usually a physical person, who may have contradicting career needs.) But is not-being single really a goal of mine? I feel like I am happier when when I'm half of a set rather than a autonomous unit, but this hasn't always been the case. In fact, I think I'm entering a stage where this may flip around again... where I may actually be quite content with the freedoms of being single. Last time I was much more elated about these freedoms, but now... well... I'm still very content with the ability to spend time with as many friends (who are mostly all male) as I want anytime I want to, or to spend my time and money 100 percent as I want to do so.

So in my state of new found contentment, I did something that up until this point I found too painful to do: read through the breakup emails between me and that particular ex. I think, based on previous experiences... that these things are worth remembering, worth learning from, and there is no fear or pain that shouldn't be eventually faced. They affect me... still... far more than I would admit if I wasn't making a conscious effort to display my weaknesses without fear. For that was one thing I never did in these emails.

I remembered being in pain and stifling the urges to say I love you and cry and beg to take back all the logic of the situation. There was no hint of that in my words: They sounded like hate... they were hate... I should have said that he hurt me incredibly when he forgot me so quickly, to the point where I needed to back away for a while. I should have said I felt he didn't understand me at all, that I loved him... that though a relationship status needed to change but the core of what I valued him for would never change. But to have said that would have put out more risk, would have taken more strength... more faith... than I guess I had at that point.

In my letters I found I had lashed out at him with everything I had, for no apparent purpose other than to make him feel pain. I spoke out of emotion rather than logic or love. I told him I felt like a “temporary plug in an otherwise meaningless existence” and constantly listed how he failed me... how he hurt me... I wanted to be hated, because i wanted him to feel some passion in regards to me rather than nothing at all, after all the passion that I thought would remain constant even after a breakup.

I expected to recognize myself and my motivations, despite the fact that I've went through a lot of change between now and last fall. I introduce myself these days less as a naturalist and more of a spiritual, eco-friendly pacifist. This new me, which is an identity which has made peace with a past and a future that could never yet intersect, does not believe in accidents, does not act or speak to intentionally hurt other living things, does not eat meat except for fish for ethical as well as practical reasons and walks more gently in the world around her. She listens, she gives... and she believes again in things like destiny as well as probability and predictability that comes with natural science.

Damn.... but that wasn't the girl I met in my own correspondence.

Also, reading between the lines again on his end, I still saw the flashing red signs of someone who did not understand me, but I also saw someone who, despite replacing me in 2 weeks... was showing a lot more general consideration than I did in what he didn't say in return. His words were not said to hurt me, they just were. I had no reason to hate him... and a lot more reason to well, dislike myself.

I forgot who I was... the girl who started dating Mark was defined by 2 contradictory impulses: that of spirituality and the sense of destiny, and that of a noted blindspot in my spiritual eye: Mark, the scientist... someone who I admired intensely who could not begin to comprehend let alone empathize with these beliefs, who I loved all the more because of them. But being in a relationship where I couldn't really talk about what was most central to me without being consistently misunderstood... it faded, it changed: some for the worst, but mostly for the better. I was a hypocrite: my actions and my philosophies did not match, because I no longer knew what I believed or who I wanted to be.

I could have been a lot more like Doug after he went through his recent breakup. Although he and his ex also realized they did not understand each other and had grave religious differences, he didn't expound to me on all the places where she had failed him or misunderstood him... Yet I know he was very hurt by these things, and still is to some extent. Yet he acknowledges nothing owed to him that was denied... no false promises withheld... just hurt... and love... and the need for time to reconcile the two. He admitted to weakness: feeling for an ex beyond the logical conclusion that it was time to part, and in doing so showed much more maturity, yet all of the passion I felt I would have to have let go in order to rightfully say “well, it just didn't work out”. To the outside observer it may seem like Doug didn't have these passions very deep... He doesn't talk about it unless prodded... he doesn't talk about a lot of things unless prodded. But I've come to realize there is a great deal of passion he is better at hiding, yet not quite so deceptively as I do... He passes it off as nothing at all, I try to convey unfulfilled passion in my interactions to a sense of being cheated... owed... at worse a reason for hate.

So I've learned from Doug recently. I've learned from a lot of people who never intended to teach me. I've learned from Roberto, who in a lot of ways, taught me to love more deeply and forgive more readily... To live for the moment and take the good while overlooking the bad... All things will end, and most things are uniquely beautiful because of it. I've also learned ironically, from Nemesis... whose personality traits I had held against him in the not-so-distant past were the very ones I found glaring at me in the email. And y'know, he's not so callous and mercurial a guy as I keep wanting to think... even though I would feel very humbled to tell him so. Weird as it sounds... that is a friendship that seems to exist only because he believes I do not value him very much at all.

I've learned from Tali... who managed to see through me and my words during that period of time to this one... who can be 14 and 40 oftentimes at the same time: counselor and counseled... it's strange, I can't explain it... She's a lot of things that can't be, and therefore it is wonderful to be around her.

and Jesse... who has the balls to tell me when I'm being a bitch yet honor me in others... Jesse's not afraid to tell me how he feels, and yet he is... much like me. But we've both vowed a long time ago never to let the shit we say or don't say interfere with what actually is... a friendship where two very fucked up individuals walk fairly parallel roads towards slightly less-fucked up... or a lot less fucked up. Yet all the same time, we know where we've been, we feel the weight of it... and we are not afraid to let eachother see the most abused and insane aspects of our emotions and philosophies we live by... Jesse is there when no one else is... even when we don't know how to fix eachother... we try.

I've learned from Colin, who was and is a much better friend and human being than I've ever given him credit for. In fact, I don't know what I'm going to do in Ithaca without him. I used to think it was a vague need for human contact and the convenience of having Colin nearby that made me appreciate him more than I had when we knew eachother back in Ithaca, but I need his bullshit.... I need the jokes... even when they are disgusting or insulting... especially then... cause not everyone can see beyond the message to to the motive, often very contradictory to the words themselves. For a long time... I couldn't. Colin is one of the most loyal and dedicated friends I have.

And if I didn't go through that breakup back then, I would never have appreciated all of these people to the extent I do now... even people who have been in my life for quite some time I value much much more. couple of the people I have found myself loving in my spare time wouldn't be in my life whatsoever if I had not had went through the events that I did. As strange as it may sound, I feel more loved and complete after loosing what was the most fulfilling romantic relationship in my life, than within it.... where I was contentedly trapped to a persona that I hoped would fit Mark's life, but just wasn't me... It could never fit Marks or anyone else's life in that current form... I needed to break down and rebuild... yet again.

I still feel like I have some growing up to do before I can be in a serious committed relationship.

Less than six months ago I was a crying, shaking wreck who needed a reason to live consistently. I functioned in autopilot holding up a strong image as much as possible to all who I didn't trust, which was the greater bulk of the world. I kept at bay some pretty masochistic thoughts by reminding myself of family duty.. that my father was happy only cause he thought I was doing so well with my life... and when I wasn't... My friend Ivy cared enough to call me to read me Ann LaMott at 3 in the morning... Ryan cared enough to come up with a paragraph of alliteration terms for fuckbuddy while offering his hit-man services... I couldn't make it a waste of his effort.

Things have changed a lot since then. Tonight I acknowledge that I have great friends, and head to grad school with a little bit of a sense of lack of motivation, but without fear of the things which even a couple months ago kept me awake all night. All of my friends have given me my faith back, both in myself, God and in other people... and to some extent, so did Mark... though I don't know how I could ever say all I'd like to say to him misunderstanding my motives...

With all of these people I have praises and apologies... but mostly valuable secrets of very intense emotions that I feel could never be reciprocated, because in most cases... such things have never been: the most intense love I have received from others has always be romance or parental love, and always been powerful, wonderful inconsistent, transient, and terrible. What was stable was much smaller... much less passionate... with much less risk.

So this is how I present myself to those I love. The truth is in many cases the total amount I feel for my non-romantic relationships approaches if not eventually surpasses the romantic ones... (which annoyed and/or the ex a lot... one of the many misunderstandings.)But I keep fearing and knowing that no one will ever understand this, not fully... and they will never reciprocate... I care more than is healthy in so many cases. I never tell the people around me why I find them amazing if I could even translate it into logical reasoning. So I say nothing: For fear of misunderstanding, ridicule... or just not having it returned.

To tell people of these emotions would admit weakness... to do so would not fit the image of the girl with dirt under her fingernails, science in her head, smut in her mouth and and swords on her wall. I like to present myself as independent, strong... disrespectful.. quirky... and unrepentant. If you don't get me... then so fucking what.

But this is not usually what's in my head.... I need you, I miss you... I'm constantly in love... constantly looking for and needing a precious little that would seem very insignificant to most... but is oxygen to me. That hug... that joke... just seeing you at all for any reason and having any degree of trust bestowed to me.... anything that is uniquely ours. Perhaps I could tell you all individually that I love you, that in my own way, I am probably in love with you... but I don't really know as I can. I can type this only because I'm tired and I don't have to make eye contact with any of you when I hit the publish button... in fact... a lot of you who I do love and empathize with so intensely probably won't read this anyways.... It's safe.

But I care. I'd give you anything you need that I knew you would accept from me without resentment, I pray for you... wordlessly...even when you don't believe it's effective, but I feel you... rejoice with you, cry over you... and have some way of seeing you as entirely unique to this world... irreplaceable in my life... It's not a role you fill that another character might take up... you've shaped me, and you're fantastically wonderful to the utmost sappy and emo degree ever. Shakespeare would probably shudder at some of the fluffy prose that wanders the corners of my mind in regards to my friends....

I write about you but only when you're not looking... and when you are looking, well... then I'm probably downplay it... a lot... to keep things safe for me mentally. I will force myself to see you not as divine but as human: to see the faults first. I'm antagonistic or just quiet. The best I can probably offer you when you need it is a beer... or a ear to listen... but you probably wouldn't want it anyways... Yet I want to give you so much more you and keep safe all that you offer back... but that's all sublime, because on the surface I offer you bullshit, and all the while, I hope your not buying a minute of it.

And I need sleep... And to send this beforehand. Because if I read over this after a good night sleep to regain my composure... I'm not sure I'll post this... I'm sure I sound like a whiny teenage hippie Dante who needs mood stabilizers.... or something... something very emo...

yes... sleep.

Frustrated in an Art Museum…

As a kid I saw an episode of Rocky and Bulwinkle where Bulwinkle becomes a famous artist by whitewashing canvases. I thought of that when I came across a dappled white canvas in an art museum last weekend: different shades of white mind you, but white. By the side of that painting was a paragraph on the artist’s inspiration, which read something like “I was walking down the hallway one time when I realized I didn’t understand myself walking down the hallway. It made me realize how little we truly do not understand the world around us”.

I’d agree that people do not understand the simpler things they do, and increased awareness of one’s self and surroundings is meaningful… but how is that message communicated through dappled shades of white? Other than perhaps a Rorschach-style interpretation where I present my own interpretation into ambiguous stimuli, this painting has no meaning. It isn’t even beautiful…. Art is a controversial term, and I’m sure even artists argue about its definition. Nemesis, who is far more artistic-minded than me, tells me that art is an experience: it needs not be beautiful or powerful or anything of the sort… it just has to be. Personally I think this person’s newly acquired master’s degree was a waste of Daddy’s money.

I’m not critical of all art: there were some beautiful or meaningful things in that museum which I found inexplicably awesome. I still find myself overcome with creative urges on a regular basis. Mine find their peace writing things I hope to put together for a book… which appear on this blog. Previously in life, especially in adolescence, I found myself writing journal after journal of poetry: fueled by teenage angst and a twisted childhood. The art I found myself painting and drawing my senior year of high school was anything but beautiful… or at least it was a angsty, violent sort of beautiful. Among my belongings is a painting I’ve been putting off finishing from that time for 7 years now: Amid an ugly dry forest are trees with human faces and anthropomorphic branches, dripping red from the crevices that should be their eyes, with yellow X’s marking them to be cut down. In the middle of the forest runs a river in complementary pastels… the trees near it coming alive, becoming human. By the edge of the river is a dryad-like girl who mostly human, holding out her arm to a male figure within the river. It unclear if she is pulling him out or he is pulling her in.

Yeah, my art scared people back then, as did my writing. But a lot has changed since then. Now I sort of look at living things, and especially the brain, with the sort of mystery I once looked at a blank page of paper. Have I just become needlessly critical of artistic things since that time?

My friend Lauren, who was the reason I was in this museum did a 2 dimensional sculpture in tree-like form, with prints of paper leaves coming off of it that the passer-bys were supposed to take with them. The leaves, beyond being beautiful prints themselves, had a link to her website, which promotes sustainability and preserving the environment. Beside the recycled-paper plumage was a bulletin board where the observers were asked to write down how they feel they interact with their environment. Lauren felt that if she let other people write out how they feel about their environment themselves, it would have a much greater impact then if she preached to them. Beside the bulletin board was a pamphlet that told the story of a fictious rioter of environmental rights, accidentally shot and eventually arrested for her passionate attempts to protect the world around her.

Lauren had something to say with her art: and I’d say it was very well communicated. The strange thing was that though many specific references were made to particular artists in the small graduating class through anecdotes, awards and even a blues song composed for the occasion, Lauren’s work went unnoticed and unheralded. I can’t answer why… perhaps her message is one her audience members are not yet ready to deliver to themselves.

Her school was a very elite school… or one could also argue an elitist school. I walked through the woods to a breakfast for the graduates friends and families, surrounded by sculptures and fountains and vibrant Michigan forest… which by Michigan standards, looked and smelled much more forest-like. It was gorgeous. The house where the breakfast was held contained many beautiful tapestries, reliefs and carvings, and plenty of antique chairs with a little sign saying they were not for sitting in. Only in the library where there were some plain plastic chairs used for their intended purposes, and I looked around a room filled with priceless antiques.

At the end of the day I felt very at-odds with myself. The days beforehand I found myself reading a couple new books and thinking a few different ways. Soon I’ll be away at a more prestigious university myself where I will be expected to become more cultured, more dignified… to eat at sleazy diners less and quit using words like cock and boobs in common conversations. Beyond that, most people around me will dress different, drive nicer cars… and though I might seek to keep those things the same, I can’t escape the fact that Cornell will afford me two rare luxuries: time and money. This may seem strange for someone going into an Ivy League Grad school… but trust me… those guys have weekends... especially for someone who is used to taking honors classes full time and working as much as possible to live off half the stipend I will receive at Cornell.

By my own standards, I will be rich in so many ways. But what do I want to do with an excess of time and money that I lived so well without? The money I can easily sink into my student loan debt… which will still exist even after grad school. But should all of that be designated to that purpose? Can I afford a little art and culture? Or are those just false gods distracting me from the life of service and simplicity I’d value so much more?

I guess perhaps I can be a different sort of cocky elitist… one who thinks she is better than elitists because I don’t drive a fancy car or appreciate drinking straws hanging from the wall, and the light colored calcium deposits on the floor on a light-colored background. I do hold that a simple life: one which consumes less and leaves time for the things that usually get pushed until last, is more admirable than spending money to fit in with those accustomed to spending more money. But what I can’t answer to myself is whether reserving hatred towards pieces in an art museum is righteous anger, or contrary to more noble purposes.

This a much more scattered entry… and I apologize… but unfortunately for right now, my thoughts are scattered.

Religion and Science.

Tali sent me a few papers on the scientific basis of religious experiences... This was my reply, which will be similar to any other conversations I have with people who don't believe in spirituality who read my last post, so hence I'm posting my reply:

"Thanks I'll read through them =)

I have a feeling though that like any good scientific paper, they will attempt to explain spirituality it terms of only naturalistic variables... and well they should, for thats what science is. I don't like it when science tries to do anything but.

However, I don't believe science can really explain it... If it were hallucinations or the product of an overactive imagination, I wouldn't expect to at times predict the future, or meet people who know minute details about my life when I never met them... or who can relate to me the intimate details of a dream I have or the characters within it - (like the red haired asian chic in leather armor and a sword... seeing me and starting off a story with that character in it moves beyond the realm of chance or generalities). If I could have ruled out my experiences to halluncinations or imagination... I would have done so long ago.

It would have saved me a lot of breakups... and friendships... My problems with Mark started coming out when he met a friend of mine who claimed to be very "spiritual" and Mark had a dream that freaked him out a bit... but I don't really want to talk about that, and I know for a fact he does even less...

All people, including me, like to understand the world around them. It sucks to realize there are limitations..."

Back on the Path

On the Path Again:

There’s nothing so freeing as having everything you need to survive on your back, in such a way as it’s comfortable to walk. I need no car, no house… no purse nor anything else in my hands. All I have is the path before me, and a fork in a road.
I take the path that looks better, for whatever implicit reason I don’t know. I have never been here before, and aside from finding my way back sometime in the next couple days I don’t think I plan to be again. The farther I am from civilization right now, the better: I need to be alone. Yet all at the same time I feel a sense of belonging that I haven’t felt in quite some time before this point… and in other ways, I know exactly where I’m going, and I know exactly why.
I walk for an hour or so, trying a couple different deer paths off of the main track looking for clearing big enough to place my tent. Eventually I find one where I feel I should, and with it comes a fallen tree for a chair and another with a tree nearby perfect for sitting on a ways away from camp. It reminds me of the “butt-shaped” log that used to exist at a favorite spot over the river in the forest where I’d used to go to be alone in Ithaca. The log was very comfortable, and my friend Aran had noted that this log was a reason he believed in god.
The bastard broke the log later, but I’ll ignore the spiritual implications =).
In the woods I sit and drink some water before setting up the tent, the fire… and going off to do what I came for: to clear my mind of weeks and in some ways months of psychological and emotional baggage, to meditate, and to hopefully pray and get a sense of purpose that I have been otherwise lacking. I used to live by the adage : “the soul has a path it must follow and it will languish if it looses it’s way.” The problem was, I still found this maxim to be true even when I doubted if I had a soul. I found myself with no reason to wake up in the morning. I was depressed, and sooner or later my friends began to notice… I was not who I used to be, I was not psychologically healthy, and I had no one to distract me from my problems anymore. This was good.
I prayed. For the most part this process stopped working a long time ago… the last time I got it to “work” there was another person with me. Granted he was an agnostic, but that was what it took for me to find a friend who I respected and was respected by enough to find praying with them not an awkward prospect. Christians I’d pray with would have formats they followed… they might expect to use words and hear nothing back… even the prospect of using words: whether scripted or not, rubbed me the wrong way. I pray to set things right, and mostly to listen. I figure anything I could say is already understood: what is said is only to hear myself reach my own conclusions.
I had a hawk flying above trying to figure out what the out of place looking red and black thing was in her forest (my tent)… a crow which did the same, and a lot of wind through the trees asking me why I was there. It wasn’t my woods: I was a stranger here. But it was enough to clear my mind, and there enough of a sense of community for me to move beyond that. In the ends I felt as if the woods accepted my presence.
I did a lot of sleeping and a lot of dreaming… about the stressors related to my father, to my school… and to the people I miss in my life and will continue to do so indefinitely. I was given new ways to see these people and others: insights into what I could do in the near future, and what I couldn’t. I knew where I belonged, and I had the strength to begin walking in that direction regardless of the consequences.
Yes, prayer worked. Unfortunately for me, I forgot to bring a pen, for now I can only hold so many answers in my mind, and I received many. But when I eventually hiked out of there the following day, taking some necessary detours in the process… I left with a new sense of direction… peace… purpose. I left with the method to reach those answers again… I am again on the path.
Before I left for the woods I had had lunch with an old friend I hadn’t seen in almost a year. We were both much more depressed than we used to be, and when we talked… we both admitted we were a little out of phase with our respective feelings of purpose in life. I told her I had concluded recently I was no longer psychologically healthy… and that this was something I needed to fix. However I didn’t feel that medication or psychologists would be able to help me. What had worked in the past was spirituality, or more correctly, God in one name or another had been the saving force for me throughout much worse things in life. It wasn’t just a warm fuzzy feeling that everything would be alright: it came in dreams, warnings, signs… things I don’t really feel the need to elaborate on. It’s enough to say a psychologist couldn’t give that back to me. If anything… they wouldn’t believe me. These are not safe beliefs to have.
I did not have that faith any longer, these signs and communications had for the most part stopped. I did not find people I could relate to spiritually anymore… and between that and other things, it was a very lonely period of life. I felt that if what I experienced is real, there should be more people like me.
“Perhaps you are not ready to meet those people. When you are ready, they will be there.” Although my friend’s words had added a “perhaps” to her statement, there was only certainly in her gaze. And she was right… I wasn’t ready… but I’m starting to be. My friend walked her own path, and though the details were a bit different, we found that we understood each other very well that day. It wasn’t out of the water to assume we could be that kind of an ally for each other, if we found our way back to our respective paths.
I don’t know what my religion is. I don’t even know if what I hold on to can be defined by the word religion, or if I need to define it. I have experienced things which are not explainable with purely naturalistic definitions all my life: I can ignore them and they will go away… but only for a while. And in those instances I find myself empty… and worse yet… losing my reason to wake up in the morning, my very life and sanity. I cannot live without spirituality, as much as I’d like to live in a word I understand: I live in a world where things happen that I cannot explain and I cannot control. I can walk with these things, or I can close my eyes or walk against them.
Before my coincidences and experiences were interpreted by way of Christianity… but among Christ’s followers I am constantly on the outside looking in… and always has been: either exalted or rejected for experiences I have had and their implications. There are some things in Christianity I like very much, especially the early teachings: “ lead a quiet life…. work with your hands… be dependent on no one, ” (1 Thess 4). I resonate with the teachings of Christ, Paul, and to some degree Peter. I like the stories of Elijah, I like Genesis… but do not feel the need to interpret it as literally as many Christians in this country do. I like Revelation… and also feel that by definition, prophecy is non-literal. I find the literal and linear interpretations of that book by the average American Christian most dangerous of all… and yes… I mean dangerous.
I saw a T-shirt once that said “Jesus, save me from your followers”. I agree wholeheartedly… I’ve met many who would rather spend their money going to a foreign country to go to some school to teach them how to worship or pray better… but they aren’t doing anything useful. Many churches and group kill more then they save: they aren’t those who feed and clothe the poor or visit those in prison. That was the message of Christ… he didn’t say to anyone “I wasn’t going to church, and you invited me” he said “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat.” Paul and Peter both refused alms for their teachings in most cases, and Christ’s early followers only accepted lodging and food. Yet today this is the standard way in which Christian missionaries live so they can bring bibles to the starving children of… wherever.
I’ve met some missionaries who aren’t like this too… and I do believe that one needs to treat the whole person. The fact that we need food and shelter isn’t what makes us human, and I believe spirituality is: (even if on a particularly bad day I believe humans made God up). So when I list my grievances know that I do know and respect exceptions to every rule I set. Hence I stuck around Christianity for a while, hoping to find my exceptions… and to be one: to reform it from within.
I was very lonely within that religion: the friends I made who could “understand” me really couldn’t... Many of them confused me more than anything else. Among those who have claimed to “hear from God” are many who just want attention, or many who feel that to hear from God makes you as inerrant as they believe the bible is. I have problems with both assumptions. The bible came to us through human hands, and it contains human errors… to what degree? That is the question… I found many when I looked at it very closely… I’m afraid I can only take it so far. Fortunately I believe I don’t really need to take it as literally true. What is true will prove itself.
This will be my own path… and the details of it will remain my own, at least for now. I used to think I’d need some kind of a “master” or at least someone who was a few steps ahead going in the same direction. I’ve yet to meet anyone who fits this role, at least for very long. I meet people, and with them come a lesson: but only one at a time for me to assimilate.
Perhaps that’s only because I can only handle one lesson at a time…
Yet I do believe my friend was right. I HAVE met people like me, And far beyond what I’ve experienced in fact. Granted most of them are in Asia, but not all. I’ve meeting many more people who experience spirituality in a different way, but may lead to similar hypotheses about the spiritual world. I know none now may just mean that I need to be alone for this next phase of development. I am ok with that… because prayer worked, and the “divine coincidences” are back.
I’m being general… because this is a general blog, and some of my readers may not believe in spirituality at all. I have another where I go into more spiritual details, but that one is more protected from anyone on the internet who can stumble across it. If you want access to it, or want to hear more details… let me know.

When It's too late to jump from a higher place

This is following up on my last post... a bit of freewriting I wrote almost a month ago... It's still just as valid now as it was then. And now I officially and truly promise not to post about unrequited love... Really...

When it's too late to jump from a higher place.

He would say something vague, feeling I'd catch the meaning and miss the motive. Beyond those words he'd feel very misunderstood. I would feel the same. We would stare at each other between quiet moments of down at our feet. We would change the subject, and find a deep breath was all it took to bring it back again.

He'd want to tell me he's not really the sum of his actions – least of all the most recent, which were rather impressive. “I'm just a guy”. He'd want to say... “You'd always see more than that, or you'd always see less.”

He'd expect me to be disappointed. He'd expect me to disappoint him. He would not really expect I could get past his guarded facade any faster than he has been cautiously stripping it away.. but not fast enough. I should be sure, the bulk of that guarded exterior would always remain in place. He the peaceful and responsible one, quiet yet comfortable in the corner. I the foil who just met him in the middle a few times to tell a few jokes: crass and passionate, large and loud.

I would want to tell him that it was not like that at all: That somewhere in a safer place was a side of me sitting quiet and focused.... facing forward with self-control, but just a little too cold to move. That this part of me stirred awake when I met him... She got up, she looked for ways in or ways out... it's hard to say who imprisoned whom. In any case she was now struggling for room in an otherwise crowded life and brain. The parts of me which aligned with him were very difficult to communicate. Although it was what made me who I am... I've lost that language.

I'd want to communicate that I loved him within 5 minutes of meeting him, that I was not still deciding whether he was worth loving. I knew that from the beginning and perhaps a bit before... now I am just figuring out why... and that's a dynamic process. It wouldn't have to be romantic... It wouldn't have to be anything... or perhaps that was just my logic talking. Nothing I felt about him was all that logical, except he didn't need this complication right now. I shouldn't have spoken.

He could never feel the same. Responsibility would overrule, or at least that's what he'll say it is. He'd consider others feelings, convenience... logic.. and he'd do "the right thing", and I will do the same – except in my case I'll wonder if the responsible thing was really the same as the "right" thing. Perhaps, although all I seemed to have was bad timing... it would have been enough. I guess his words, actions, and emotions are not quite as far apart or conflicting as mine.

The truth is my facade is thicker, my motives more blurry, my core so well protected it's getting just a little rusty and useless. I've never had strong feelings for someone who could see beyond my stronger pretenses, even when I took them down. He'll feel the same way... she of all people would never understand.

We'll shrug it off, we'll walk away. Next time we talk it will be about the simple and the trivial: work and school amid misplaced laughs. And then soon afterward I'll leave town. Emails will be infrequent and simple: there will be nothing more in common, and nothing more to say. From the moment he turns around, everything will break...

It will be as if I never talked to him again.

Looking for Home

“Hey Colin…” I said
“Huh?” he replied turning the music down a bit.
I was sitting on the couch; Colin was behind me in his office chair on the computer. This was yet another day when I stopped by to grab dinner and/or watch a quick episode of anime. I should be studying… I should be doing a lot of things… But…
“I want to go home…”
“Then go.” Colin interjected.
“… but I’m not sure where home is. You ever feel like that?”
Colin thought for a second. “Yeah… I have” and beyond that there wasn’t much to say. A few minutes later I packed my stuff up and went back to my apartment… but not home.
The smoky, dirty living room of this shared duplex with the ubiquitous soap opera on TV certainly wasn’t refreshing to me. It was heavy, distracting… empty. It’s true that most often when I was around at night, my housemates would be up later… and sardonic laughter would carry from bitter conversations through the thin wall of my room, and I’d be forced to take in every callous word. They’d talk most often about work, friends drinking, boyfriends, smoking, music, TV shows... simple things… simple concerns… their parents still paid their rent, and they had been well taken care of: financially at least. They had little to worry about, and concerned themselves even less with other people’s worries: they put a lot of other people down. The house was generally pretty dirty… and they were pretty hard on the house in a way which made we worry about the security deposit. My belongings and food had gone missing: and when I asked about them I always got a sharp retort or a recognizable lie.
“I’d never touch any of your things” would be the disdainful reply what I had heard when I’d ask about my missing shirt, pants… jewelry… Some of which I managed to find and take back before I left, but not all. Their replies always came in such a tone as to say "Why would I ever want to touch anything that belonged to you?" Evidentially it was a lie, but to point it out was to risk worse thievery or disrespect to belongings. I was on the lease... and as of yet, I had no way out. But then again, my ipod went missing before I moved out nonetheless... And thus far, this was one thing i didn't manage to find and reclaim.
Hopefully, but not likely... I overlooked it among my belongings.
As of today, I'd say it's over. One late bill to collect... one utility to switch over from my name to theirs, some mail to collect in a few days time... Now I can go home, right?
I'll spend 10 days at Colin's house... two months in a shared living situation I've done before... then on to Cornell: to live in a new group living situation. Hopefully this one will be very different, and I have reason to believe it will be, but I'm not sure if it will be home.
It's not so much the place rather than the people that fill it that give me that sense of home. But I'm not really home at Colin's, it feels like visiting a relative; or what it actually is, spending time with a good friend. There are large parts of me that I don’t understand or fully reciprocate Colin, and vice versa. We are different people who respect each other, and though we probably won’t admit it too often we really care about each other. But although our friendship might relax us both: I think it’s safe to say that neither of us inspires the other to any significant degree. That just isn’t the nature of our relationship…
My friend Roberto, who I had dated a while… well, I guess he did feel like home. But I never fell in love with him, and for a while at least he wanted me to. Now things are in a very good place: We are good friends, and he is starting off a relationship with someone whom he has loved for a couple of years before me… and I am seeing a lot less of him. It is as it should be. It's about time I found another home.
Right now I am sitting in a computer lab trying to build up energy to finish off some assignments which are already late. Mentally and physically, I am out of batteries… out of motivation. I want simple things out of life, and a direction to head in which to lead them. A grade, a grad school… a physical place to drive to at the end of the day… these are not goals, and I can't convince myself to make them so, even when, or especially when, these things are all I have left. People are goals, the people who walk beside you are goals… Without them each day just sort of fades into the next, I loose sense of time… purpose… and pretty much everything else. I wake up, I move… and I don’t look back... and only look up often enough so I don't run into anything.
I haven't been this stressed out since high school...
I’ve felt more alone than I have for many years now, though it’s a necessary loneliness. I just finally broke out of the place to where I feel I need to be in a relationship… For two years I had someone to talk to every night… and it was a rough switch to have that person dropped out my life: I was replaceable to him, but well... I don't work like that.
I guess a positive thing about dating Roberto is he helped wean me out of this stage. Right now, I may need to spend a lot of time with friends more so than my natural state… but I don’t NEED a relationship right now, just friends... Bad dreams come frequently about exes and other bad things… but no longer nightmares. The familiar betrayals (and other periodic stresses) will eventually work themselves out of my system, and when they do, and when I am fully content to be on my own… then I’ll be ready to begin again.
Perhaps I just need friends that understand the parts of me that Colin can’t… and Roberto can’t… the parts I barely understand myself. Spiritually, I’ve had no inspiration. And for a lot of small reasons, I feel like a cell phone with gnawed wires: you can plug me in but it takes me forever to build up a charge… and it’s one of those charges where at best it doesn’t add power faster than you can use it up. I can't recharge and do anything of value at the same time... at least not to any significant degree.
I'm burnt out…
There are reasons for me to feel this way, of course… many stressors, actually. One in particular which is far too personal to blog about (for those of you who know about my Dad's situation, this is what I'm referring to.) But the reasons aren’t necessarily what’s important. Most all of what is bothering me is outside my ability to change. I can only change myself, and I can’t seem to have any mental or physical place to come back to recharge. I need a destination… an untouchable center… and to do that I have to build a new one… and for the most part, I need to do it on my own.
All the more reasons not to depend on any one else for my psychological health. I suppose the answer is to find spiritual people who can help me find the way to my own independence again. People who remind me of who I used to be... who I want to be...

Oh right... I know the perfect person... but that is a friend who I'd be much safer not letting get to close to me...
*sigh*
I can think of no worse time for me to meet such an amazing human being as I have recently. And all my attempts to convince myself that this person is somewhat less amazing have failed. Timing is horrible on both ends: and I’m not sure as I could let this person be only the friend I need and not… well, the person I’ve been falling in love with. I can honestly say it isn't a psychological need or a crush... certainly not just physical attraction...
If I was going to be around the area for a while, and if he was as well, I'd hold of and be comfortable doing so. There would be time for honesty later. I'd work through my troubles, I'd let him do the same (he's just out of a relationship himself, and doing a lot of thinking about grad schools and careers amid working fulltime plus a class. He doesn't need the complication yet). Eventually, if everything had time to settle I might have something more to say. But this is not the situation I find myself in. The clock is ticking... and bad timing is the only timing I have. I only need a new friend now, but somehow... It still isn't enough with this particular individual. I've tried, but I always want him to keep talking... or just to stay a little longer...
It has always been people who gave me the sense of home, not the place. In fact, I've been most infused with a feeling of peace and acceptance when all my belongings were on my back, or when I was in a car headed to who knows where with the right person beside me. So what should I do, when I feel like I am home... and I don't have the key? Beyond that, it's not my right to ask for it... It really isn't my home... It can't be... But it feels like it is... Something this strong to me can't be all on my end... It just can't be...
I’ll save you the writing as to why this person is so amazing... It’s probably better if I don’t focus on those things…
To do the responsible thing and continue to just act as a friend and nothing more to this person will lead to a couple of possible scenarios, assuming that I can’t convince myself this guy isn’t so awesome after all (hasn’t been working thus far). A) I will eventually have to settle for a second best or nothing at all in a relationship, because I'm quite convinced at this point that I couldn't create a more awesome individual. It isn't the sum of the traits... I'm not sure what it is... It' sa lot of things that kicked in fairly immediately after meeting. Well anyways...
Then there's point B. When I let this guy pass on by as if it was just a crush I let quickly fade, I'll wonder if I really should have been that responsible all along… If this individual isn't so amazing as they seem, well, I'll never really know.

But at least by leaving this situation alone I’m only hurting myself… rather than someone else too. If this person had shown an equal degree of stupidity in looking at me in the same manner as I did him… that might be different. I’m not going to try to “win him over”. I dropped the subtleties… he didn’t take the bait… and that’s enough. A conversation hasn't come up again, and for the most part I don't plan on bringing it up. I've even managed to try to only hang out with him with other friend's around so it's easier for me not to say or do anything retarded...
A wise Singaporean ex-Taoist temple drummer turned Christian once told me “Never bruise the fruit that was meant to be plucked by someone else”. He was a wise (and obviously interesting) man.
Emotions are never in tune with logic: and though others have the cognitive power to override the former with the latter, I don’t think I can in this case…
Yah for unrequited love….
And that’s all I’m going to say about that last detail...


COLDPLAY - The Scientist.
Come up to meet you, tell you Im sorry
You dont know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions
Oh lets go back to the start
Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a silence apart

Nobody said it was easy
Oh its such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said that it would be this hard
Oh take me back to the start
I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are