First things first:
My mother told me that when she and my grandparents were talking yesterday, about me, my grandfather (Papa, the lighthouse) remarked "that girl can do no wrong. I love her so much." At first I thought "if he only knew...", and then I realized "I think he actually does know, and he believes that anyway." I think that's really something.
Secondly, I am noticing that when I get excited about something, or when something makes me "giddy" (I hate that word, but it's such a specific descriptor) I tend to just sort of freeze up and expose too many of those dorky idioms we all have that should be slowly leaked out over long periods of time. That, and I get hyper-conscious of what I am saying and worry that I will run out of things to talk about. That's why I can sometimes become that guy that just wants to hide under the tablecloth at parties with people they're really impressed by. Surely there's a way to remedy this. It's probably just to relax. Damn it.
The question still remains: when you spend so many hours of the day being so tired your eyelids stick together when you blink and you forget your own apartment number (I did that yesterday morning), why why is it impossible to fall asleep when it's time, and you just wind up repeating the cycle the next day? I swear to god, me and everyone like me still have that last-man-standing-slumber-party mentality. I was always the last one awake at slumber parties. But now most nights I'm at a slumber party with myself. It should stand to reason I'd be able to cash in the chips on that contest.
So I've been thinking about adventures lately. I think I have not been aware enough about what adventures really are. Adventures could happen all the time. For some people they do. For some people (and I'm putting myself in this category) they might be and no one is aware of it.
So what if:
Adventures can happen down the block or on a mountain top, and for no reason, and without the whole world knowing, and without a thesis of fun first, and without knowing what you want from it, and with or without a soundtrack, and through telling the truth, and through telling what you want, and being brave in ways that no one would catch but you, and deciding what you want from it right then and not the rest of your life, and you don't need five days off of work to do it, and you don't need money, and you don't have to surprise anybody but yourself, and you don't even have to surprise yourself as long as you're having fun, and that the purpose in an adventure--if there is one--is something only you can know & not something you can be instructed on, and you're not too old to do it, and you can be with eight people or one person or no one at all, and that expectations are what build the anticipation but also kill the adventure of you let the overcome the excitement and the just letting things be. Adventures are happening all the time. Or they can if you want them.
And with those things to think about, goodnight, for this brief hour.
8.26.2007
8.04.2007
Dear Mama's Sermon. Some Things. Lesson 1.
I need a stool. I am officially using an end table from the living room as a chair, because I am tired of squatting, and because, as a good person put it to me tonight, I have not "made it a priority" to clean my room. So end table stool it is. At least my feet aren't numb...not to mention the fact that there are enough piles of things clouding my room that it's as if trolls have moved onto mountains beneath my bed. Do they have treasures? Will they share them with me? I should clean my room.
A good cab ride. I finally had a good cab ride tonight. Living in a city like this, it can be so relieving to have a pleasant experience you don't have to guard yourself from the entire time. You know, to just enjoy things the way they can be enjoyed in other places. Thanks, cab driver. Thanks for the good talk, and thanks for not asking my name or how old I am. Cheers.
A thought on momentary realizations: Some more than "a" thought(s): It can be such a great feeling, such an alive thing, to know you don't want what you don't have; this "other"; this "completeness"; this true confusion and compromise of yourself. Knowing you don't want that is both liberating, and informative. Knowing you want to be your own is quite nice when you actually want it. But when you think of sharing, and you think of whom to share it with, other thoughts can be nice, too. Like, in this make-believe world there is no coincidence that two people look at each other at the same time about the same thing, which is about two people being together. And in this it is not strange that two people should get along so well. And, in this, it is not strange that people assume things about it, which they do. And you don't want anything from it, but you have to ask how much it might be the right thing, when teams are formed, and lies are made in unison, and hard things aren't made so hard. But the only way to know if something is really good or not is to take it somewhere it doesn't belong, like the Badlands, and watch it run, and see how it melts into something foreign, and how it adapts to something you find so beautiful. And maybe then, after that, you'll know what it's worth. But lucky you, if you get to bring anything to the Badlands. Lucky, lucky you.
What I think is so beautiful is that the world constantly shows you that moments between people are really beautiful if you are lucky enough to catch them. Sometimes you catch the moment, and it feels like that one thing could be the entire day. You don't need all the in between things. And those things are never big things, but just little things, little signs, that somewhere, something is right. I like knowing a little something is right.
So. I saw the look. I remember the dream. I replay the advice. I appreciate the upgrade of temporary susstainability. I write down the name of the nice person tonight to have record of a tiny angel. I review the work I believe in. I know things are as the should be. And I ask the question of importance, "how could they be?". I am not so stupid that things slip past me. I just have to think of them as they pass. You know, things always pass. But as long as we are alive, things are ok, and they are passing.
A movie for this would be too long. We can't Hum this. Sleep schedules must be corrected. Questions must be asked (why won't you inquire?). Organizations must be made. Opinions must be stated boldly. We must learn to love ourselves enough to stand up for what we believe is real and good.
And even if I sound like a rote, sleep-deprived, drunken hippie, if you've ever thought about these things at all, you know what I am talking about.
There is nothing wrong with admitting what you think. There is nothing wrong with admitting you believe in magic.
A good cab ride. I finally had a good cab ride tonight. Living in a city like this, it can be so relieving to have a pleasant experience you don't have to guard yourself from the entire time. You know, to just enjoy things the way they can be enjoyed in other places. Thanks, cab driver. Thanks for the good talk, and thanks for not asking my name or how old I am. Cheers.
A thought on momentary realizations: Some more than "a" thought(s): It can be such a great feeling, such an alive thing, to know you don't want what you don't have; this "other"; this "completeness"; this true confusion and compromise of yourself. Knowing you don't want that is both liberating, and informative. Knowing you want to be your own is quite nice when you actually want it. But when you think of sharing, and you think of whom to share it with, other thoughts can be nice, too. Like, in this make-believe world there is no coincidence that two people look at each other at the same time about the same thing, which is about two people being together. And in this it is not strange that two people should get along so well. And, in this, it is not strange that people assume things about it, which they do. And you don't want anything from it, but you have to ask how much it might be the right thing, when teams are formed, and lies are made in unison, and hard things aren't made so hard. But the only way to know if something is really good or not is to take it somewhere it doesn't belong, like the Badlands, and watch it run, and see how it melts into something foreign, and how it adapts to something you find so beautiful. And maybe then, after that, you'll know what it's worth. But lucky you, if you get to bring anything to the Badlands. Lucky, lucky you.
What I think is so beautiful is that the world constantly shows you that moments between people are really beautiful if you are lucky enough to catch them. Sometimes you catch the moment, and it feels like that one thing could be the entire day. You don't need all the in between things. And those things are never big things, but just little things, little signs, that somewhere, something is right. I like knowing a little something is right.
So. I saw the look. I remember the dream. I replay the advice. I appreciate the upgrade of temporary susstainability. I write down the name of the nice person tonight to have record of a tiny angel. I review the work I believe in. I know things are as the should be. And I ask the question of importance, "how could they be?". I am not so stupid that things slip past me. I just have to think of them as they pass. You know, things always pass. But as long as we are alive, things are ok, and they are passing.
A movie for this would be too long. We can't Hum this. Sleep schedules must be corrected. Questions must be asked (why won't you inquire?). Organizations must be made. Opinions must be stated boldly. We must learn to love ourselves enough to stand up for what we believe is real and good.
And even if I sound like a rote, sleep-deprived, drunken hippie, if you've ever thought about these things at all, you know what I am talking about.
There is nothing wrong with admitting what you think. There is nothing wrong with admitting you believe in magic.
8.01.2007
Don't tell me stories, Don't tell me dogs.
The only Chris' I have in my phone are the professional ones. Very, very funny...
Tonight I had two conversations, quite dissimilar, but involving the same theme.
That theme was: "I know more than I am going to let you know I know. And I will make you feel good because I am keeping my mouth shut." Those discussions were about acting, and canine behavior.
Now, I don't susspect I am an expert on either subject, but I hate to talk about either, just based on the fact that they are both so close to me. I have this elementary feeling that if you talk too much about something you care about, others will try to take it away from you with their debased understanding of it. Almost everyone in this city is, or was, an "actor". And almost more people think they understand dog psychology and breed behavior because they knew a couple of people with pit bulls, and they hung around some shiba inus, or puggles, or irish wolf hounds. Those people don't know anything. And that I can tell you for almost certain. Well, most people don't know anything, and that can be said for almost certain. But by the end of the evening I was close to appaled at how long I had sat silent in more than one conversation when, in both instances, I knew so much more about what was being said than the one who was lecturing me.
But what could I do? I hate argument, conflict, and I really hate proving to wrong people that they are wrong. So, on some really immoral level I guess I just wanted them to feel like they were doing something great so that the whole conversation wasn't a bust. Because arguing doesn't get you anything, except maybe a win. But when you're arguing with people who never get wins, you just get the glory of making someone feel badly--again. And that is no glory.
So I sucked up everything I know, twice in one night, to avoid argument, and let someone feel good. But I almost feel like that's wrong. Should I have been honest about how much I know? Would that have been the right thing? Even if it was proving someone wrong? Someone who seems rarely to be right? That doesn't seem just. But here I am. I know nothing of "justness".
And you know, I would never bring it up, but it's come up many more than once, that I will either have to admit what I know, or hide it. And I hide it to protect people. But then, how am I protecting myself? Should I just be honest? No one will, but someone tell me. I hate arguing people. But I also hate being condescended to.
So don't tell me about telling stories. And don't tell me about dogs. I know those things. Unless you specialize in them, ask us to have a conversation; don't ever plan to have a condesntion; a lesson. I've had my lessons, and I'll have the rest my own way....
Tonight I had two conversations, quite dissimilar, but involving the same theme.
That theme was: "I know more than I am going to let you know I know. And I will make you feel good because I am keeping my mouth shut." Those discussions were about acting, and canine behavior.
Now, I don't susspect I am an expert on either subject, but I hate to talk about either, just based on the fact that they are both so close to me. I have this elementary feeling that if you talk too much about something you care about, others will try to take it away from you with their debased understanding of it. Almost everyone in this city is, or was, an "actor". And almost more people think they understand dog psychology and breed behavior because they knew a couple of people with pit bulls, and they hung around some shiba inus, or puggles, or irish wolf hounds. Those people don't know anything. And that I can tell you for almost certain. Well, most people don't know anything, and that can be said for almost certain. But by the end of the evening I was close to appaled at how long I had sat silent in more than one conversation when, in both instances, I knew so much more about what was being said than the one who was lecturing me.
But what could I do? I hate argument, conflict, and I really hate proving to wrong people that they are wrong. So, on some really immoral level I guess I just wanted them to feel like they were doing something great so that the whole conversation wasn't a bust. Because arguing doesn't get you anything, except maybe a win. But when you're arguing with people who never get wins, you just get the glory of making someone feel badly--again. And that is no glory.
So I sucked up everything I know, twice in one night, to avoid argument, and let someone feel good. But I almost feel like that's wrong. Should I have been honest about how much I know? Would that have been the right thing? Even if it was proving someone wrong? Someone who seems rarely to be right? That doesn't seem just. But here I am. I know nothing of "justness".
And you know, I would never bring it up, but it's come up many more than once, that I will either have to admit what I know, or hide it. And I hide it to protect people. But then, how am I protecting myself? Should I just be honest? No one will, but someone tell me. I hate arguing people. But I also hate being condescended to.
So don't tell me about telling stories. And don't tell me about dogs. I know those things. Unless you specialize in them, ask us to have a conversation; don't ever plan to have a condesntion; a lesson. I've had my lessons, and I'll have the rest my own way....
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