An Evolving Disciple

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 kno...

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”

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 fir...

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 su...

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 a...

(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 m...

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 som...