Too much to remember
So many things are running through my head right now, I don't know where to start. I'm not even in one of my horrible brooding moods either. So we'll just go for a nice unconnected list of randomness.
First of all, it just struck me how much of myself I put out on this "blog" (the hatred of that word must be contagious, cause I think I'm catching it.) I always sort of prided myself on not whining and complaining about all my emotions and insecurities, and yet that's pretty much all this thing is. However, I seem to have forgotten that that was the entire reason for starting this internet journal. It was purely so I could write things down, step back in time and distance from my issues, and be able to look at them wholly and fairly and perhaps try to solve them. So I guess it's no surprise really how I seem to have bared myself. Still, I lose all respect for people who do that (but seeing as I have very little self-respect anyway, this isn't too much of an issue.) The fact that this all began anonymously probably helped, but these "blogs" never do remain that way.
Every once in a while a specific song lyric will grab my attention and apply itself to an entire era of my life, stepping above and beyond the normal poetic messages I hold on to for a matter of weeks only. They become more and more significant as time wears on. I'm still wrapped in the grip of one such powerful line, a valuable piece of advice I somehow cannot manage to follow, no matter how hard I try. Life would be a lot better if I could just accept these beautiful words I know from experience are true, but I just can't for some reason. I'd put them here, but I know I won't forget them for a long while, if ever, and I don't like sharing something that's almost sacred, and yet would have barely any meaning at all to someone else.
I had a conversation the other day with Rebecca Kale about disappointment. We both agreed that fantasies are some of the biggest disappointments ever because so much time and energy is spent on them and they never turn out in real life even remotely as well as they do in your mind. Usually they are absolutely disastrous. However, I have a feeling she was talking about sex, whereas I was talking about my fucking life. And yes, these last two paragraphs are very much related.
Does being utterly fascinated with the rioting in France make me a bad person? I don't know why, but it intrigues me to no end. There's something Romantically heroic about it all, a vague homage being paid to an era of revolutions and ideals. It hints at things I didn't think existed anymore. And yet it's so bad, for both sides. I don't know what to do about it but to watch from afar in misplaced admiration.
I have just encountered murmerings of "freethinkercest" and it makes me curious. A little sad because I will probably never hear the whole of it, and also because I doubt that even knowing it all would benefit me any. And yet, there's always that tinge of hopefulness. I'll just try to not think of it.
I made baklava last night, and it was delicious (or so it smells, I haven't had any yet.) But damn fucking expensive! I had to buy all these expensive spices that I was only using a little bit of. I bought one of those little tiny containers of whole cloves and it cost just over $5. And I only needed 5 cloves! Just to spite the expensive cloves themselves I used 8, so I hope it doesn't taste too clove-y. And I also had to buy cinnamon sticks. Eight bucks for six sticks, and I only used two. Fucking spices that only grow in exotic places. I had to borrow some people's kitchen and baking wares because I don't have my own right now, and I'm leaving the baklava there until Tuesday night. I told them they could all have a piece for letting me use their kitchen, so I just hope there's enough left to take to my meeting on Tuesday. I washed all the dishes I used though, and they were very happy about that, and I also left them all the spices and phyllo dough I didn't use, so I hope they appreciated that, too. However, there really wasn't anything else I could do with them. It's not like I can eat a meal of cloves and cinnamon sticks. Besides, I figure those spices will still be there when I move in next year. It was just an investment.
Speaking of meetings, tomorrow is going to interesting. My cult (for whom I made the baklava) is going to be discussing personal spiritual encounters this week instead of a given religious path. That means I have to not only come up with several of these experiences, but I have to actually share them in a group. I guess it's a good thing I'm getting to be pretty comfortable around these guys. But I'm really interested in hearing everyone else's stories.
On a related note, I had another interesting conversation the other day that made me reflect on Truman. For the sake of argument, let's assume that all the Christians at this campus were raised that way. It may not be true, but I'm willing to bet it's so in at least 99% of the cases. In a rather large group of people who were originally organized as a haven for atheists and agnostics (though now includes a myriad of individuals [such as myself who identifies with neither of those names]), I was still one of only two or three others who were not raised in a Christian setting. When asked to explain the religions of my parents, I had a hard time of it. My fellow conversationalist picked up on things that are essentially the truth but that I didn't want to say and awkwardly side-stepped. It made it easier that they were understood without my having to blatantly put them in words.. However, just hearing myself say some of the things I did was a revelation into my own odd mixture of beliefs. This is just one more reason why I look forward to tomorrow.
I think it's funny that most ex-Catholics I talk to here are that way primarily because they went to Catholic school.
Okay, back to yet another conversation I had. I was talking to a personal hero about leaving home. My hero, on this particular occasion, sounded rather more human than normal (as opposed to my childish perception of this person as god-like.) The topic in question was making new friends. I don't know what more to say about it other than the way both the subject of the conversation and my hero's tone struck me as, well, human. Human in all of humanity's imperfect, erring, and uncertain ways. And it wasn't a bad thing at all. But it got me to thinking about the replacement of old friends. I wonder if people subconsciously replace their old confidantes. I know for a fact that most of the time I am strongly attracted to someone particularly because they remind me of someone else. I soon find out their stark differences, but that rarely stops me from continuing to value their friendship. So, I don't know that old friends can really be replaced, but I would venture to say that they serve as a precedent, a mold, an advantageous (or sometimes not) starting place for finding new friends in new places.
I wonder where my personal hero considers home to be?
To quote a song I still hate purely because my elementary school music teacher made us sing it at least twice a week (because of which I'll probably never forget it), I'll be leaving you this afternoon "Sing[ing] a song full of the hope that the present has brought us." I hope that this positive note will keep the rest of my week afloat after what I know will be a painfully happy experience.
First of all, it just struck me how much of myself I put out on this "blog" (the hatred of that word must be contagious, cause I think I'm catching it.) I always sort of prided myself on not whining and complaining about all my emotions and insecurities, and yet that's pretty much all this thing is. However, I seem to have forgotten that that was the entire reason for starting this internet journal. It was purely so I could write things down, step back in time and distance from my issues, and be able to look at them wholly and fairly and perhaps try to solve them. So I guess it's no surprise really how I seem to have bared myself. Still, I lose all respect for people who do that (but seeing as I have very little self-respect anyway, this isn't too much of an issue.) The fact that this all began anonymously probably helped, but these "blogs" never do remain that way.
Every once in a while a specific song lyric will grab my attention and apply itself to an entire era of my life, stepping above and beyond the normal poetic messages I hold on to for a matter of weeks only. They become more and more significant as time wears on. I'm still wrapped in the grip of one such powerful line, a valuable piece of advice I somehow cannot manage to follow, no matter how hard I try. Life would be a lot better if I could just accept these beautiful words I know from experience are true, but I just can't for some reason. I'd put them here, but I know I won't forget them for a long while, if ever, and I don't like sharing something that's almost sacred, and yet would have barely any meaning at all to someone else.
I had a conversation the other day with Rebecca Kale about disappointment. We both agreed that fantasies are some of the biggest disappointments ever because so much time and energy is spent on them and they never turn out in real life even remotely as well as they do in your mind. Usually they are absolutely disastrous. However, I have a feeling she was talking about sex, whereas I was talking about my fucking life. And yes, these last two paragraphs are very much related.
Does being utterly fascinated with the rioting in France make me a bad person? I don't know why, but it intrigues me to no end. There's something Romantically heroic about it all, a vague homage being paid to an era of revolutions and ideals. It hints at things I didn't think existed anymore. And yet it's so bad, for both sides. I don't know what to do about it but to watch from afar in misplaced admiration.
I have just encountered murmerings of "freethinkercest" and it makes me curious. A little sad because I will probably never hear the whole of it, and also because I doubt that even knowing it all would benefit me any. And yet, there's always that tinge of hopefulness. I'll just try to not think of it.
I made baklava last night, and it was delicious (or so it smells, I haven't had any yet.) But damn fucking expensive! I had to buy all these expensive spices that I was only using a little bit of. I bought one of those little tiny containers of whole cloves and it cost just over $5. And I only needed 5 cloves! Just to spite the expensive cloves themselves I used 8, so I hope it doesn't taste too clove-y. And I also had to buy cinnamon sticks. Eight bucks for six sticks, and I only used two. Fucking spices that only grow in exotic places. I had to borrow some people's kitchen and baking wares because I don't have my own right now, and I'm leaving the baklava there until Tuesday night. I told them they could all have a piece for letting me use their kitchen, so I just hope there's enough left to take to my meeting on Tuesday. I washed all the dishes I used though, and they were very happy about that, and I also left them all the spices and phyllo dough I didn't use, so I hope they appreciated that, too. However, there really wasn't anything else I could do with them. It's not like I can eat a meal of cloves and cinnamon sticks. Besides, I figure those spices will still be there when I move in next year. It was just an investment.
Speaking of meetings, tomorrow is going to interesting. My cult (for whom I made the baklava) is going to be discussing personal spiritual encounters this week instead of a given religious path. That means I have to not only come up with several of these experiences, but I have to actually share them in a group. I guess it's a good thing I'm getting to be pretty comfortable around these guys. But I'm really interested in hearing everyone else's stories.
On a related note, I had another interesting conversation the other day that made me reflect on Truman. For the sake of argument, let's assume that all the Christians at this campus were raised that way. It may not be true, but I'm willing to bet it's so in at least 99% of the cases. In a rather large group of people who were originally organized as a haven for atheists and agnostics (though now includes a myriad of individuals [such as myself who identifies with neither of those names]), I was still one of only two or three others who were not raised in a Christian setting. When asked to explain the religions of my parents, I had a hard time of it. My fellow conversationalist picked up on things that are essentially the truth but that I didn't want to say and awkwardly side-stepped. It made it easier that they were understood without my having to blatantly put them in words.. However, just hearing myself say some of the things I did was a revelation into my own odd mixture of beliefs. This is just one more reason why I look forward to tomorrow.
I think it's funny that most ex-Catholics I talk to here are that way primarily because they went to Catholic school.
Okay, back to yet another conversation I had. I was talking to a personal hero about leaving home. My hero, on this particular occasion, sounded rather more human than normal (as opposed to my childish perception of this person as god-like.) The topic in question was making new friends. I don't know what more to say about it other than the way both the subject of the conversation and my hero's tone struck me as, well, human. Human in all of humanity's imperfect, erring, and uncertain ways. And it wasn't a bad thing at all. But it got me to thinking about the replacement of old friends. I wonder if people subconsciously replace their old confidantes. I know for a fact that most of the time I am strongly attracted to someone particularly because they remind me of someone else. I soon find out their stark differences, but that rarely stops me from continuing to value their friendship. So, I don't know that old friends can really be replaced, but I would venture to say that they serve as a precedent, a mold, an advantageous (or sometimes not) starting place for finding new friends in new places.
I wonder where my personal hero considers home to be?
To quote a song I still hate purely because my elementary school music teacher made us sing it at least twice a week (because of which I'll probably never forget it), I'll be leaving you this afternoon "Sing[ing] a song full of the hope that the present has brought us." I hope that this positive note will keep the rest of my week afloat after what I know will be a painfully happy experience.
posted by Emma at 12:44:00 PM
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