1. last beverage: Lemonade
2. last phone call: Dad
3. last text message: Milan
4. last song you listened to : Someday You Will Be Loved by Death Cab for Cutie
5. last time you cried : Round One of my Persuasive at Nationals
6. dated someone twice :Ignatius and I have been going steady for years now.
7. been cheated on: Iggy's far too loyal.
8. kissed someone & regretted it : One of my female relatives has a beard... ;P
9. lost someone special :Yes
10. been depressed: yes
LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:
11.Dark Chocolate Brown
12. Dark Slate Grey
13. Deep Burgundy
HAVE YOU EVER:
14. Made a new friend: Yup. Last year at debate camp. ;)
15. Laughed until you cried: Yeah. I wrote a thank you note to the family I stayed with at Nationals, and accidentally wrote "Dear Aunt Paul and Uncle Cindy." Yes, it was late. Yes, I was tired. Yes, it was silly.
16. Met someone who changed you: Indeed. It's up to you to guess who.
17. Found out who your true friends were: Yeah
18. Found out someone was talking about you: Unfortunately, yes
GENERAL:
19. Do you have any pets :Yeah. She's a black cat we call Buttercup, but everyone knows she's actually just a minature Puma called Bageera.
20. Do you want to change your name: Not really. Only to Sylvia St.James
21. What did you do for your last birthday: Played Calvinball and watched Leap Year
22. What time did you wake up today: Do you want Eastern Standard or Pacific Standard? It felt like it was 5:00, but it was actually 8:00
23. What were you doing at midnight last night : Talking with my hosts at Manchester by the Sea
24. Name something you CANNOT wait for: Florida. Oh wait. I'm here. Nevermind. How about the Decemberists concert in August?
25. Last time you saw your Mother : A week ago yesterday.
26. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: I want more time and less homework.
27. What are you listening to right now: I Will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab for Cutie
28. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom?Yeah. My grandfather
29. Most visited webpage: my email
30. Nickname: Sabam, Beffy,
31. Relationship Status: Single and accounted for
32. Elementary : stuck up and smart
33. Middle School : [text redacted]
34. College : [text redacted]
35. Hair color: Dirty Blond
36. Long or short: Medium or really short.
37. Height : 5'5"
38. Do you have a crush on someone? Ignatius
39. What do you like about yourself? I dunno. I'm kind of ambivalent.
40. Piercing In my ear lobes, and I got it done in a tattoo parlor in Seattle
41. Tattoo: naah
42. Righty or lefty : Mostly right, but slightly ambidextrous
FIRSTS :
43. First surgery : No surgery as of yet. Though I might this summer to get my wisdom teeth removed.
44. First piercing : ears
45. First best friend: Alexis
46: First time spent together: In a music shop. The lights in our eyes reflected off the varnish of the violins.
47. First vacation: I can't really remember. The most memorable one, however, was camping in a rain forest and awaking inside a puddle that formed inside the tent. I was completely soaked and was wringing out clothes for a very long time.
RIGHT NOW:
48. Eating: nothing
49. Drinking:nothing
50. I'm about to: Go to bed
51. Listening to :Death Cab for Cutie
52. Waiting for: Godot
YOUR FUTURE :
53. Want kids? Kids are alright.
54. Get Married? Meh.
55. Career? Recording engineer/tonmeister/acoustician
WHICH IS BETTER :
56. Lips or eyes : Eyes because there is so much complexity in them
57. Hugs or kisses : Hugs, even though they're almost more intimate than kisses. They display such trust.
58. Shorter or talle: Taller, as long as they don't rub it in.
59. Older or Younger: Older
60. Romantic or spontaneous: Both. Spontaneous for romantic things
61. Sensitive or loud: Sensitive. Sorry, obnoxious debater guys.
62. Trouble maker or hesitant: It depends on the degree. Really hesitant is just awkward, but so is very trouble-inclined.
HAVE YOU EVER :
63. Kissed a stranger: No, but I came frighteningly close to tackle-hugging one because she looked so much like my friend.
64. Lost glasses/contacts: lost glasses and broken them
65. Kissed on first date: I haven't gone on a date. So no.
66. Had your heart broken: Wouldn't you just want to know?
67. Been arrested: By the gravity police. My feet weren't firmly planted on the ground. I spent time in the penitentiary of Asphalt.
68. Turned someone down: Yup.
69. Cried when someone died: When I realize that they're dead, yes. But not always. Sometimes I'm just sad.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
70. Yourself: Hardly.
71. Miracles: Of course. It's a miracle I'm still alive since I'm so accident-prone
72. Love at first sight: Yes, and his name is Ignatius.
19 June 2011
Well-Earned Peace
Wow. I just want to say it's perfect here. I arrived at a little, Old-Florida style hotel about an hour ago (9 pm Eastern), and don't want to leave for a very long time. You get to our room by walking behind the two-story house, past rows of bicycles waiting for the morning, over an uneven deck made of untreated wood, and up some rickety stairs with a view of the courtyard. It's all in black and white, and as I write, the air conditioning goes to work to remove some of the 92 degrees of heat that still linger in the evening air. It smells like suntan lotion, and we have yet to spend time on the beach.
It's startling to realize that I am officially an alumni of speech and debate. I finished my career by going to two national championships, where it may be noted that I exceeded my own expectations. But now, it's over. Nine whole tournaments of fun, a few more friends, a couple more marbles lost, and my speech and debate career is over. Done. Caput. I've barely been done for a day, and I already feel out of the loop.
My spring is going to be incredibly empty next year. Most of my friends will continue to compete and fill their school years with tournaments, suits, and lots of traveling. But me? I don't know what I'm doing. Probably applying to colleges and doing lots of musical recitals.
I've been asked by a couple people to hang around a bit, maybe help some debaters or coach some speech. I can honestly say I don't know how to feel about this. On the one hand, they're my friends and I could help them out, considering that I know the hard way to get to Nationals. On the other hand, I've just used up 5 years of my life doing competitive speech and debate, and I don't need to stick around. There are enough alumni with no life outside of speech and debate, there doesn't need to be one more.
But I'm pushing that off to the side. You see, folks, I'm here in Florida. I haven't had a life, or a real vacation, in years, and I'm determined to exploit my time on the East Coast to the fullest advantage. My mom has promised me a few days of just hanging by the beach, and I intend to hold her to her word. And when we're done in St. Petersburg, we're going first to the Everglades and then to Key West. And after Florida, my family is roadtripping up the East Coast to Washington DC. What this means is that I'm not returning to the Pacific Northwest until July 9th. I'm super excited.
Speaking of which, I'm also super excited to tell my alternative to ballot parties. For those of you not in the know, a ballot party is where all us geeky speech and debaters overwhelm a Denny's or similarly cheap restaurant very late at night and read the pieces of paper over which countless judges have written judgemental, uplifting, or frustrating comments about our speeches and debates. It's pretty masochistic if you stop to think about it. But anyways, I've never really enjoyed ballot parties because I don't like reading ballots unless I really have to. So last night, while I was still in Massachusetts, my chaperones and I drove to the Singing Sands of Manchester by the Sea and frolicked in the waves in full professional attire. It was much more uplifiting and edifying than reading the judgements of strangers.
So anyways, I'm excited to be here. I'm excited to wear my swimsuit instead of my business suit, and I'm excited to rush to the beach instead of to rounds. I'm excited that the only deadline I have is the end of my trip, and while I'm not so excited at leaving my friends behind for a month, I am excited to see them again when I return. I plan on being so tan that I hurt their weak eyes amphibious from all the rain in the Northwest.
So until next time, my dear readers! I'm off to bed where I don't have to set an alarm to get up tomorrow.
B
It's startling to realize that I am officially an alumni of speech and debate. I finished my career by going to two national championships, where it may be noted that I exceeded my own expectations. But now, it's over. Nine whole tournaments of fun, a few more friends, a couple more marbles lost, and my speech and debate career is over. Done. Caput. I've barely been done for a day, and I already feel out of the loop.
My spring is going to be incredibly empty next year. Most of my friends will continue to compete and fill their school years with tournaments, suits, and lots of traveling. But me? I don't know what I'm doing. Probably applying to colleges and doing lots of musical recitals.
I've been asked by a couple people to hang around a bit, maybe help some debaters or coach some speech. I can honestly say I don't know how to feel about this. On the one hand, they're my friends and I could help them out, considering that I know the hard way to get to Nationals. On the other hand, I've just used up 5 years of my life doing competitive speech and debate, and I don't need to stick around. There are enough alumni with no life outside of speech and debate, there doesn't need to be one more.
But I'm pushing that off to the side. You see, folks, I'm here in Florida. I haven't had a life, or a real vacation, in years, and I'm determined to exploit my time on the East Coast to the fullest advantage. My mom has promised me a few days of just hanging by the beach, and I intend to hold her to her word. And when we're done in St. Petersburg, we're going first to the Everglades and then to Key West. And after Florida, my family is roadtripping up the East Coast to Washington DC. What this means is that I'm not returning to the Pacific Northwest until July 9th. I'm super excited.
Speaking of which, I'm also super excited to tell my alternative to ballot parties. For those of you not in the know, a ballot party is where all us geeky speech and debaters overwhelm a Denny's or similarly cheap restaurant very late at night and read the pieces of paper over which countless judges have written judgemental, uplifting, or frustrating comments about our speeches and debates. It's pretty masochistic if you stop to think about it. But anyways, I've never really enjoyed ballot parties because I don't like reading ballots unless I really have to. So last night, while I was still in Massachusetts, my chaperones and I drove to the Singing Sands of Manchester by the Sea and frolicked in the waves in full professional attire. It was much more uplifiting and edifying than reading the judgements of strangers.
So anyways, I'm excited to be here. I'm excited to wear my swimsuit instead of my business suit, and I'm excited to rush to the beach instead of to rounds. I'm excited that the only deadline I have is the end of my trip, and while I'm not so excited at leaving my friends behind for a month, I am excited to see them again when I return. I plan on being so tan that I hurt their weak eyes amphibious from all the rain in the Northwest.
So until next time, my dear readers! I'm off to bed where I don't have to set an alarm to get up tomorrow.
B
08 June 2011
Shutdown Initiated
If anyone ends up reading this, I'll be surprised. Why? Because I haven't posted in almost a month now. Sad, right?
Well, I'm currently in between national tournaments. I went to NITOC last week, and will be attending NCFCA Nationals next week. I leave on Saturday. This is just a quick reminder that I'm still alive and hope to post sometime after Nationals.
Keep Calm.
B
Well, I'm currently in between national tournaments. I went to NITOC last week, and will be attending NCFCA Nationals next week. I leave on Saturday. This is just a quick reminder that I'm still alive and hope to post sometime after Nationals.
Keep Calm.
B
03 May 2011
Aspiration
Aspiration; noun. strong desire, longing, or aim; ambition.
Synonyms: yearning, craving
Are you competitive? I don't mean in the half-hearted, I-kind-of-like-winning way; I mean competitive in the way that drives you in a never-ending race for excellence. Competitive in the way that anything less than your absolute best is unacceptable. Well, are you?
I'm not. Or at least, I didn't used to be. That sort of aspiration to be the best didn't really show up in my speech and debate until I started listening to this song by Muse earlier this year. It was a bit of a wake up call.
Come on, Problematic. This is your last year in the league. Make it count. Make it worthwhile. Make it memorable.
Now, apart from the utterly laughable last statement - memorable? Really? Like someone would remember you in a high-school, home-school speech league of all things? - this all suddenly hit home. I don't quite have the words to describe it, but suddenly, I had a craving for excellence. And suddenly, nothing less than "The Best" would do for me.
There's something funny about cravings. See, you can satisfy them over, and over, and over, but it's never enough. It doesn't matter if the craving is for chocolate, epic soundtracks, winning - choose your poison - the cravings are never completely satisfied. And the worst thing is, sometimes the thing you crave disappoints you.
I had another craving earlier this year. I was craving certain friends, with an intensity that is almost frightening in retrospect. It was an aspiration, of the most dangerous type.
You see, my friends, I have a confession to make. I had centered my life and my self-image around these friends. What is more, I wasted six months of my life standing in the metaphorical train-station, hoping that each new train would bring that which I most desired. I threw away six months, six months of my 17th year waiting for Godot. And the thing about Godot is, he never shows up.
Perhaps I should explain why I craved these friends. When I was younger, I had even more severe problems trusting people than I do now. Then, one day, I accidentally opened up. It was sublime. It was like water in a desert, and it was no mirage. Finally, I had someone to tell when another person hurt me. Finally, there was another corporeal person who would make sympathetic noises as I spilled my guts. It was addictive, and I couldn't get enough of it.
I had perverted something that God has given us - good friends - and turned it into my idol. My aspiration was to be with my friends. I centered myself on our time together, rather than drawing enjoyment from it like one draws enjoyment from the opening-band before the big show.
But then they left, and I had a decision. I made the wrong choice. My "idols" left, and I foolishly waited for them. Don't imagine this is easy to say - I've barely wanted to admit it to myself. As I was finally getting over that aspiration, that craving, a second disaster struck.
People are fallible, even my friends. Perhaps I should say, especially my friends. What happened next is something too painful to recount, but we can say that it left me deeply shaken to the core.
I had put my aspirations in the wrong thing, twice. And both times, they let me down. Aspirations are tricky business. If you settle your aspiration on the wrong thing, you're headed for disaster.
"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God" Psalm 42
Ultimately, the only safe person to entrust with your strong desire, longing, aim, craving, or yearning is God. Because unlike us mortals, He will never leave us nor forsake us. And if that's not a comforting thought, I don't know what is.
B
Synonyms: yearning, craving
Are you competitive? I don't mean in the half-hearted, I-kind-of-like-winning way; I mean competitive in the way that drives you in a never-ending race for excellence. Competitive in the way that anything less than your absolute best is unacceptable. Well, are you?
I'm not. Or at least, I didn't used to be. That sort of aspiration to be the best didn't really show up in my speech and debate until I started listening to this song by Muse earlier this year. It was a bit of a wake up call.
Come on, Problematic. This is your last year in the league. Make it count. Make it worthwhile. Make it memorable.
Now, apart from the utterly laughable last statement - memorable? Really? Like someone would remember you in a high-school, home-school speech league of all things? - this all suddenly hit home. I don't quite have the words to describe it, but suddenly, I had a craving for excellence. And suddenly, nothing less than "The Best" would do for me.
There's something funny about cravings. See, you can satisfy them over, and over, and over, but it's never enough. It doesn't matter if the craving is for chocolate, epic soundtracks, winning - choose your poison - the cravings are never completely satisfied. And the worst thing is, sometimes the thing you crave disappoints you.
I had another craving earlier this year. I was craving certain friends, with an intensity that is almost frightening in retrospect. It was an aspiration, of the most dangerous type.
You see, my friends, I have a confession to make. I had centered my life and my self-image around these friends. What is more, I wasted six months of my life standing in the metaphorical train-station, hoping that each new train would bring that which I most desired. I threw away six months, six months of my 17th year waiting for Godot. And the thing about Godot is, he never shows up.
Perhaps I should explain why I craved these friends. When I was younger, I had even more severe problems trusting people than I do now. Then, one day, I accidentally opened up. It was sublime. It was like water in a desert, and it was no mirage. Finally, I had someone to tell when another person hurt me. Finally, there was another corporeal person who would make sympathetic noises as I spilled my guts. It was addictive, and I couldn't get enough of it.
I had perverted something that God has given us - good friends - and turned it into my idol. My aspiration was to be with my friends. I centered myself on our time together, rather than drawing enjoyment from it like one draws enjoyment from the opening-band before the big show.
But then they left, and I had a decision. I made the wrong choice. My "idols" left, and I foolishly waited for them. Don't imagine this is easy to say - I've barely wanted to admit it to myself. As I was finally getting over that aspiration, that craving, a second disaster struck.
People are fallible, even my friends. Perhaps I should say, especially my friends. What happened next is something too painful to recount, but we can say that it left me deeply shaken to the core.
I had put my aspirations in the wrong thing, twice. And both times, they let me down. Aspirations are tricky business. If you settle your aspiration on the wrong thing, you're headed for disaster.
"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God" Psalm 42
Ultimately, the only safe person to entrust with your strong desire, longing, aim, craving, or yearning is God. Because unlike us mortals, He will never leave us nor forsake us. And if that's not a comforting thought, I don't know what is.
B
20 April 2011
Regionals
Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Life has been very busy. Two weeks ago, I competed at the last "qualifying" tournament of the year. It was actually a STOA tournament, but it was the last low-level competition I attended. It was very fun, but even more fun was the Region X Invitational Tournament last week.
To make a long story short, I won my form of debate and the top speaker of that debate form, in addition to extemporaneous. My impromptu, persuasive, extemp, and debate have all qualified to NCFCA's Nationals, held in Boston this year. I've been chasing this goal for five years, and this one year, God blesses me so that all my events bar one reach this level. It seems unreal - it's overwhelming.
You know what's also overwhelming? School. I have gone from swimming in the stuff to drowning. AP tests to study for, essays to write, research papers to start and complete, books to be read and analyzed, college entrance SATs and the COMPASS tests for community college entrance, math homework weeks old, speech and debate to prepare for Nationals, and at some point I should probably start practicing violin again - considering I've only touched my instrument once in the past two weeks, since I've been out of town the rest of the time.
I'm having a marathon school-year. I've been looking forward to summer to relax and just chill, but even that seems to be filling up. Speech camp, possibly debate camp, mission trip to California, two nationals, and oh, let's see, the possibility of some sort of history convention. My driver's license. It's a lot. I'm starting to wonder when this is going to end. I can't see the end in sight, because next fall, I enter community college.
So, dear readers, if these posts start making less and less sense, you'll know exactly what's happening. My back-up marbles haven't shown up in the mail yet, and the current ones are currently fighting a losing war of attrition.
B
To make a long story short, I won my form of debate and the top speaker of that debate form, in addition to extemporaneous. My impromptu, persuasive, extemp, and debate have all qualified to NCFCA's Nationals, held in Boston this year. I've been chasing this goal for five years, and this one year, God blesses me so that all my events bar one reach this level. It seems unreal - it's overwhelming.
You know what's also overwhelming? School. I have gone from swimming in the stuff to drowning. AP tests to study for, essays to write, research papers to start and complete, books to be read and analyzed, college entrance SATs and the COMPASS tests for community college entrance, math homework weeks old, speech and debate to prepare for Nationals, and at some point I should probably start practicing violin again - considering I've only touched my instrument once in the past two weeks, since I've been out of town the rest of the time.
I'm having a marathon school-year. I've been looking forward to summer to relax and just chill, but even that seems to be filling up. Speech camp, possibly debate camp, mission trip to California, two nationals, and oh, let's see, the possibility of some sort of history convention. My driver's license. It's a lot. I'm starting to wonder when this is going to end. I can't see the end in sight, because next fall, I enter community college.
So, dear readers, if these posts start making less and less sense, you'll know exactly what's happening. My back-up marbles haven't shown up in the mail yet, and the current ones are currently fighting a losing war of attrition.
B
11 April 2011
Wake Up
It's Arcade Fire. 'Nuff Said. Wake Up, by Arcade Fire. I especially like the anthem-like introduction.
Somethin’ filled up
my heart with nothin’,
someone told me not to cry.
But now that I’m older,
my heart’s colder,
and I can see that it’s a lie.
Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.
If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We’re just a million little god’s causin rain storms turnin’ every good thing to rust.
I guess we’ll just have to adjust.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’ to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am go-goin’
You better look out below!
Somethin’ filled up
my heart with nothin’,
someone told me not to cry.
But now that I’m older,
my heart’s colder,
and I can see that it’s a lie.
Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.
If the children don’t grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We’re just a million little god’s causin rain storms turnin’ every good thing to rust.
I guess we’ll just have to adjust.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’ to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am goin’
With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’
I can see where I am go-goin’
You better look out below!
04 April 2011
Ragdoll Physics
Well, this song is bipolar/interesting. Most probably, it's both at the same time. Ragdoll Physics, by the Diablo Swing Orchestra, is an interesting combination of old-time jazz and Wagner-style opera. I like it immensely. The lyrics are good, and if you haven't figured this out by now, I enjoy symphonic metal.
Pure As The Unborn Son, Pure As The Maid Should Be Ceased To Breathe Again
Never Look Away From Those With Nothing To Spare
But I Do And I Don't Want To Care Anymore
If I Close My Eyes Would It Spare Me The Sight?
Of Decay, Corruption, How We Nurture Destruction
And Everything That Will Doom Us All.
Chaos May Be Thy Name, You Left Us For Anything
Trust Never Been So Misplaced As In Your Arms That Day
Those That You Gave Away To Those Who Could Ease Your Mind
We Were Nothing But A Waste Of Your Time And Space
But I Do And I Don't Want To Care Anymore
If I Close My Eyes Would It Spare Me The Sight?
Of Decay, Corruption, How We Nurture Destruction
And Everything That Will Doom Us All.
Pure As The Unborn Son, Pure As The Maid Should Be Ceased To Breathe Again
Never Look Away From Those With Nothing To Spare
But I Do And I Don't Want To Care Anymore
If I Close My Eyes Would It Spare Me The Sight?
Of Decay, Corruption, How We Nurture Destruction
And Everything That Will Doom Us All.
Chaos May Be Thy Name, You Left Us For Anything
Trust Never Been So Misplaced As In Your Arms That Day
Those That You Gave Away To Those Who Could Ease Your Mind
We Were Nothing But A Waste Of Your Time And Space
But I Do And I Don't Want To Care Anymore
If I Close My Eyes Would It Spare Me The Sight?
Of Decay, Corruption, How We Nurture Destruction
And Everything That Will Doom Us All.
03 April 2011
Transient Beauty
My church has been preaching through Genesis and the Fall of Man. It's been interesting, but what has really stuck out to me is the idea that Creation fell with mankind. The physical world, abstract concepts like Justice, reason, and peace - they all fell with the original sin. But more importantly, beauty fell with man.
This is what I mean: currently, we find beauty in imperfection.
A contorted pepper.
An asymmetrical spider web.
Imperfect snowflakes.
Flowers that are almost symmetrical, but not quite.
The beauty we're observing is one of imperfection. Our sense of beauty fell when Adam first sinned. Now, the Bible says God will restore Creation when Jesus returns, which means everything will be made new, including our human understanding of beauty. The only thing we know about this "new beauty" is that it will be perfect as God is perfect. But besides that, it completely escapes my comprehending.
Just think about it. There are moments - split seconds, really - where the beauty is so strong it kills you. It aches in the most painful way possible. When time slows down for one, exquisite experience that leaves you wondering what could possibly beat it for beauty, grace, or ... perfection, really. Maybe I'm just crazy, and none of you have experienced those "click points", but I sincerely hope you have. They're wonderful.
Anyways, these click points are what I consider the height of beauty. And yet, our sense of beauty is flawed. God will make beauty perfect like Himself. So if the click point is just the illegitimate, ugly, and flawed version of what God originally intended, just think about what Heaven will be like.
Doesn't that thought just give you the shivers? Our click points aren't nearly as beautiful as what will be in Heaven, because they will be made perfect. I have to stop typing now. I'm shivering too much. Just the idea of perfect beauty. Wow.
B
This is what I mean: currently, we find beauty in imperfection.
A contorted pepper.An asymmetrical spider web.
Flowers that are almost symmetrical, but not quite.
The beauty we're observing is one of imperfection. Our sense of beauty fell when Adam first sinned. Now, the Bible says God will restore Creation when Jesus returns, which means everything will be made new, including our human understanding of beauty. The only thing we know about this "new beauty" is that it will be perfect as God is perfect. But besides that, it completely escapes my comprehending.
Just think about it. There are moments - split seconds, really - where the beauty is so strong it kills you. It aches in the most painful way possible. When time slows down for one, exquisite experience that leaves you wondering what could possibly beat it for beauty, grace, or ... perfection, really. Maybe I'm just crazy, and none of you have experienced those "click points", but I sincerely hope you have. They're wonderful.
Anyways, these click points are what I consider the height of beauty. And yet, our sense of beauty is flawed. God will make beauty perfect like Himself. So if the click point is just the illegitimate, ugly, and flawed version of what God originally intended, just think about what Heaven will be like.
Doesn't that thought just give you the shivers? Our click points aren't nearly as beautiful as what will be in Heaven, because they will be made perfect. I have to stop typing now. I'm shivering too much. Just the idea of perfect beauty. Wow.
B
Grab Bag #4
Well, my life is getting chaotic again. Next week, there's another tournament, and immediately following it, the Regional Invitational. Now, the week following Regionals (that's three weeks from now, if you're following) I have a couple big research papers, a few essays, and an oral report due, not to mention the AP tests I ought to prepare for. Busy, neh? But before jumping back into the madness, I'm going to give you a reel of the high and low lights since the beginning of January. Why? Because I feel like it.
In January, I flew to California for a tournament and a college visit. The TSA took my cookies, and discriminated against me because I chose to wear a skirt on the airplane. At the tournament, my persuasive took second place, a feat that I've yet to repeat.
Also in January, two weeks later, I drove from my home in Western Washington to a tournament in Medford, Oregon. This was my first extended exposure to Shrimpy and Shorty. I've got to say, the car ride was the real highlight of the trip. That, and the really messed up cake we made for Calvin's birthday.
Two weeks later, another tournament in Idaho. Once again, I carpooled with Shorty, and we gave Rubbish a ride over to Idaho, but not back. Yes, Rubbish is a new character in this saga. She's named for one of her favorite adjectives. Ahem. Idaho's tournament was an emotional rollercoaster, but surprisingly, I had the most fun at that tournament than any other so far. It was groovy, and I watched Despicable Me for the second time in 4 weeks.
Two weeks after that, yet another tournament - but this was less groovy. I competed as a Team Policy debater, and my partner and I qualified to Regionals, which was unexpected. However, I had stomach flu for the entire tournament, and ended up losing a lot of weight from a. my inability to keep food down, and b. running around a lot. My impromptu speeches went over well with the judges in finals, and I finished 3rd. Despite this comparative success, throwing up all night and competing all day did not make the tournament one of my fonder memories. It got so bad that I almost didn't show up on the second day. Also at this tournament, I spent more time with Shorty. Yeah, I'm really adding up the hours.
After the stomach flu tournament, I had a month to "get ahead" in homework. I'll spare you the details. The next tournament was toward the end of March, and it was ... frustrating. Friends of mine with champion speeches didn't break, showed poorly, or lost their titles to unexpected contenders. There is some personal disappointment, I admit. But frankly, some of the results were entirely unjustified. I'm not saying that the people who won didn't deserve, because the strange results didn't extend through all events. However, some of the results were extremely frustrating.
The tournament was held at a university in Seattle, so Shorty stayed at my house. At the time of my writing this, Shorty and I have spent a cumulative total of 135 hours with each other, using the most conservative estimates. We had some very interesting conversations at early 'o clock, before falling asleep. Actually, Shorty and Gabby's visit during the tournament was the highly of the weekend.
Unless, of course, you mention Gertrude and Alfonso. Wrath, Calvin's little brother, was in a bad mood on that Friday night - and I was entering the state my parents call "rummy." It ended up with Wrath and I waddling across the college campus like a pair of senile penguins, muttering to each other and occasionally yelling "quack!" It was quite fun, and I'm afraid we've permanently scarred some of our friends.
At this point, you've been brought up to speed through the present. You may be wondering how I have time to write all this if I'm so busy preparing for the next weeks. I have two answers: First, I don't have time. Second, I'm writing this in the car on my way from church. So there.
I've been doing a bit of thinking about things over the past three months. I'll try to get some time to type the thoughts up into scintillating blog posts, but your best bet for intelligent thoughts will be in a couple weeks after Regionals. Thoughts that should be coming soon includ: beauty, vulnerability, aspiration, passion, defiance, and surrender.
Now, aren't you curious?
B
In January, I flew to California for a tournament and a college visit. The TSA took my cookies, and discriminated against me because I chose to wear a skirt on the airplane. At the tournament, my persuasive took second place, a feat that I've yet to repeat.
Also in January, two weeks later, I drove from my home in Western Washington to a tournament in Medford, Oregon. This was my first extended exposure to Shrimpy and Shorty. I've got to say, the car ride was the real highlight of the trip. That, and the really messed up cake we made for Calvin's birthday.
Two weeks later, another tournament in Idaho. Once again, I carpooled with Shorty, and we gave Rubbish a ride over to Idaho, but not back. Yes, Rubbish is a new character in this saga. She's named for one of her favorite adjectives. Ahem. Idaho's tournament was an emotional rollercoaster, but surprisingly, I had the most fun at that tournament than any other so far. It was groovy, and I watched Despicable Me for the second time in 4 weeks.
Two weeks after that, yet another tournament - but this was less groovy. I competed as a Team Policy debater, and my partner and I qualified to Regionals, which was unexpected. However, I had stomach flu for the entire tournament, and ended up losing a lot of weight from a. my inability to keep food down, and b. running around a lot. My impromptu speeches went over well with the judges in finals, and I finished 3rd. Despite this comparative success, throwing up all night and competing all day did not make the tournament one of my fonder memories. It got so bad that I almost didn't show up on the second day. Also at this tournament, I spent more time with Shorty. Yeah, I'm really adding up the hours.
After the stomach flu tournament, I had a month to "get ahead" in homework. I'll spare you the details. The next tournament was toward the end of March, and it was ... frustrating. Friends of mine with champion speeches didn't break, showed poorly, or lost their titles to unexpected contenders. There is some personal disappointment, I admit. But frankly, some of the results were entirely unjustified. I'm not saying that the people who won didn't deserve, because the strange results didn't extend through all events. However, some of the results were extremely frustrating.
The tournament was held at a university in Seattle, so Shorty stayed at my house. At the time of my writing this, Shorty and I have spent a cumulative total of 135 hours with each other, using the most conservative estimates. We had some very interesting conversations at early 'o clock, before falling asleep. Actually, Shorty and Gabby's visit during the tournament was the highly of the weekend.
Unless, of course, you mention Gertrude and Alfonso. Wrath, Calvin's little brother, was in a bad mood on that Friday night - and I was entering the state my parents call "rummy." It ended up with Wrath and I waddling across the college campus like a pair of senile penguins, muttering to each other and occasionally yelling "quack!" It was quite fun, and I'm afraid we've permanently scarred some of our friends.
At this point, you've been brought up to speed through the present. You may be wondering how I have time to write all this if I'm so busy preparing for the next weeks. I have two answers: First, I don't have time. Second, I'm writing this in the car on my way from church. So there.
I've been doing a bit of thinking about things over the past three months. I'll try to get some time to type the thoughts up into scintillating blog posts, but your best bet for intelligent thoughts will be in a couple weeks after Regionals. Thoughts that should be coming soon includ: beauty, vulnerability, aspiration, passion, defiance, and surrender.
Now, aren't you curious?
B
28 March 2011
"So Hawt"
After reading this post, you'll probably roll your eyes and grin at the sudden "new" "discovery" I made the other day. But I haven't revealed it yet, so you may as well enjoy this in good humor. As another caveat, please don't think I'm boy-crazy after reading this post. It's just when inspiration hits, you can hardly say no.
I have a facebook, you know. I have a friend who had her picture taken with the lead guitarist of some grunge band I've never heard of. The caption on the picture was something to the effect of "so hawt!" When I looked at the picture, I did a double take. Then I did another. While my friend is quite beautiful, the man she was posing with was not someone I would look at and think "Wow, he's so attractive." The same goes for pretty much every band I've ever run across.
Take Muse, for instance. The lead singer, Matt Bellamy, is scrawny. He has a big nose, and his eyes seem to disappear under his brow line. In no way "attractive," "beautiful," or even "hawt." At least, not in pictures. You see, I finally looked up a music video of Muse. Before starting it, I read some comments to the effect of "I am extremely attracted to Matt Bellamy and want to marry him."
Yes, I edited that. I don't enjoy the crudity and unoriginality of Youtube comments. But that's beside the point.
Before watching the video, I'd only seen a picture of Muse and found them decidedly unattractive, despite their incredible music.But then I watched the music video. I was captivated. This man, who has no conventional beauty, was transformed into a fascinating, larger-than-life creature with the most hypnotic presence I've ever encountered. It was achingly beautiful. The comments suddenly made sense.
I'm not saying I'm attracted to Muse. But I think I'm on to something. Because after this realization, I started noticing the guys I'm around a lot, especially the ones girls tend to congregate around. None of them are what Western culture generally considers classically handsome.
Some of them are shorter or lighter-weight than I am ( which is saying something, since I'm 5'5" and 130 lbs). Some of them have facial hair, which isn't fashionable. Some have horrible attitudes. Now, putting aside the cliche of "all girls like bad boys" (which, for my male audience, is a lie. If you want explanation, shoot me an email), the one thing these popular male friends of mine have in common is their charisma.
All of these guys, be it Muse or Escapist or DinosaurMan or Thursday or SirSarcasm or Calvin (or you get the idea), have captivating personalities. When they walk into the room, there's a distinct air of possession that comes with them. The persona is almost overwhelming if you stop to think about it. It's not necessarily arrogant, or cocky, or even annoying. But the person is completely *there*.
That's my "new" "idea." Attraction has next to nothing to do with looks. I know that personally, the guys that I've been attracted to in the past are, quite frankly, ugly. But their personalities completely overshadow the lack of beauty. This is not to say that I am secretly attracted to the guys I listed in the previous paragraph - because I'm not - but they have this charisma in common. It's interesting, and frankly a little weird.
I took so long writing this post that I forgot where I was going with it. In all likelihood, it was going to be something moralicious about having an attractive personality and possessing inner beauty, but I got interested in other things. Point is, I have finished another people-watching project. And this was the result. Hopefully you're not too creeped out about me. :)
B
I have a facebook, you know. I have a friend who had her picture taken with the lead guitarist of some grunge band I've never heard of. The caption on the picture was something to the effect of "so hawt!" When I looked at the picture, I did a double take. Then I did another. While my friend is quite beautiful, the man she was posing with was not someone I would look at and think "Wow, he's so attractive." The same goes for pretty much every band I've ever run across.
Take Muse, for instance. The lead singer, Matt Bellamy, is scrawny. He has a big nose, and his eyes seem to disappear under his brow line. In no way "attractive," "beautiful," or even "hawt." At least, not in pictures. You see, I finally looked up a music video of Muse. Before starting it, I read some comments to the effect of "I am extremely attracted to Matt Bellamy and want to marry him."
Yes, I edited that. I don't enjoy the crudity and unoriginality of Youtube comments. But that's beside the point.
Before watching the video, I'd only seen a picture of Muse and found them decidedly unattractive, despite their incredible music.But then I watched the music video. I was captivated. This man, who has no conventional beauty, was transformed into a fascinating, larger-than-life creature with the most hypnotic presence I've ever encountered. It was achingly beautiful. The comments suddenly made sense.
I'm not saying I'm attracted to Muse. But I think I'm on to something. Because after this realization, I started noticing the guys I'm around a lot, especially the ones girls tend to congregate around. None of them are what Western culture generally considers classically handsome.
Some of them are shorter or lighter-weight than I am ( which is saying something, since I'm 5'5" and 130 lbs). Some of them have facial hair, which isn't fashionable. Some have horrible attitudes. Now, putting aside the cliche of "all girls like bad boys" (which, for my male audience, is a lie. If you want explanation, shoot me an email), the one thing these popular male friends of mine have in common is their charisma.
All of these guys, be it Muse or Escapist or DinosaurMan or Thursday or SirSarcasm or Calvin (or you get the idea), have captivating personalities. When they walk into the room, there's a distinct air of possession that comes with them. The persona is almost overwhelming if you stop to think about it. It's not necessarily arrogant, or cocky, or even annoying. But the person is completely *there*.
That's my "new" "idea." Attraction has next to nothing to do with looks. I know that personally, the guys that I've been attracted to in the past are, quite frankly, ugly. But their personalities completely overshadow the lack of beauty. This is not to say that I am secretly attracted to the guys I listed in the previous paragraph - because I'm not - but they have this charisma in common. It's interesting, and frankly a little weird.
I took so long writing this post that I forgot where I was going with it. In all likelihood, it was going to be something moralicious about having an attractive personality and possessing inner beauty, but I got interested in other things. Point is, I have finished another people-watching project. And this was the result. Hopefully you're not too creeped out about me. :)
B
Butterflies and Hurricanes
Well, this past weekend was the last NCFCA qualifying tournament. I've got to say, it was a strange mixture of really good, and really bad. The last day, Saturday, was particularly frustrating, and I listened to Butterflies and Hurricanes, by Muse, all day.
Enjoy.
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Dont let yourself down
And dont let yourself go
Your last chance has arrived
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Enjoy.
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
Dont let yourself down
And dont let yourself go
Your last chance has arrived
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
21 March 2011
Apres Moi
I like Regina Spektor. She's interesting. You never quite know what she's talking about, but she's a talented songwriter and arranger. Enjoy Apres Moi, by Regina Spektor. And go look up the translation of the Russian in the middle of the song.
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood
Fevrale dostat chernil i plakat
Pisat O Fevrale navsnryd
Poka grohochushaya slyakot
Vesnoyu charnoyu gorit
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice
I must go on stan-stan-ding-ding
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi, le deluge, after me comes the flood
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, it's not my choice
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood
Fevrale dostat chernil i plakat
Pisat O Fevrale navsnryd
Poka grohochushaya slyakot
Vesnoyu charnoyu gorit
Be afraid of the lame, they'll inherit your legs
Be afraid of the old, they'll inherit your souls
Be afraid of the cold, they'll inherit your blood
Après moi le deluge, after me comes the flood
I must go on standing
You can't break that which isn't yours
I must go on standing
I'm not my own, It's not my choice
I must go on stan-stan-ding-ding
You can't, can't break that, that
Which isn't, isn't yours, yours
I'm not, not my own, own
It's not, not my choice, choice
17 March 2011
A St. Patrick's Day Blessing
May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, to all my Irish, Irish-American, or simply Irish-at-heart readers!
B
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, to all my Irish, Irish-American, or simply Irish-at-heart readers!
B
14 March 2011
Long Time Traveller
This song popped up on my Celtic Pandora station the other day. It's beautiful in its simplicity - three radiant voices in harmony. Enjoy Long Time Traveller, by the Wailin' Jennys.
Long Time Traveller:
These fleeting charms of earth
Farewell, your springs of joy are dry
My soul now seeks another home
A brighter world on high
I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down
Farewell kind friends whose tender care
Has long engaged my love
Your fond embrace I now exchange
For better friends above
I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down...
Long Time Traveller:
These fleeting charms of earth
Farewell, your springs of joy are dry
My soul now seeks another home
A brighter world on high
I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down
Farewell kind friends whose tender care
Has long engaged my love
Your fond embrace I now exchange
For better friends above
I'm a long time travelling here below
I'm a long time travelling away from home
I'm a long time travelling here below
To lay this body down...
Problematic's Rules of Living part 3
It's been a long time coming, but I'd like to present you the third installment of my Rules of Living. You can find the first installment here, and the second part here.
Rule 36: Be not ashamed of tripping over flat surfaces.
Corollary to Rule 36: Be ye less ashamed of tripping over stairs.
Rule 35: Never argue with the driver.
Rule 34: The rain is made for dancing in.
Rule 33: Everyone deserves to be heard.
Rule 32: Pain is merely an electro-chemical impulse.
Corollary to Rule 32: Pain is a figment of the imagination.
Rule 31: Even a nobody is somebody to someone.
Corollary to Rule 31: Be somebody to many.
Rule 30: Know your enemy as yourself.
Rule 29: True friends stab from the front
Rule 28: Seek first to understand before you are understood
Rule 27: Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Rule 26: The Truth stands up to questioning.
Corollary to Rule 26: Question everything.
Rule 36: Be not ashamed of tripping over flat surfaces.
Corollary to Rule 36: Be ye less ashamed of tripping over stairs.
Rule 35: Never argue with the driver.
Rule 34: The rain is made for dancing in.
Rule 33: Everyone deserves to be heard.
Rule 32: Pain is merely an electro-chemical impulse.
Corollary to Rule 32: Pain is a figment of the imagination.
Rule 31: Even a nobody is somebody to someone.
Corollary to Rule 31: Be somebody to many.
Rule 30: Know your enemy as yourself.
Rule 29: True friends stab from the front
Rule 28: Seek first to understand before you are understood
Rule 27: Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Rule 26: The Truth stands up to questioning.
Corollary to Rule 26: Question everything.
12 March 2011
I got a comment from DFA on my last post, "Myself." It is a long comment. And as such, it deserves a response all to itself. :) Well, maybe I'm making up that bit about deserving recognition. But in all candidness, if you post a long and well thought-out comment, I'll take the time to respond to it in depth. So let's get started, shall we?
At least you can take your own criticism. I think that would bother me more than other people's criticism.
It does bother me more than other people's criticism. When other people criticize me, I only have to sit through whatever they have to say. When I criticize me, I have to live with it. It's all in my head, and ideas are the most insidious things to stamp out. Like Inception, you know?
Why do you suppose you feel a compulsion to know who you are?
I look at my friends, and they seem so sure in who they are. Granted, they're probably just as confused on the subject as me, but they seem so self-assured. I don't have that sort of confidence. I've taken all the personality tests - there's even one displayed on the sidebar of this blog - but just because I know the "what" doesn't mean I have the foggiest clue as to the "why." And I hate uncertainty. So I guess my compulsion comes from a desire to be certain about what would seem the simplest fact of life: who I am.
Or is it because you have hypothesized who others are and are observing them to determine, if they are indeed as hypothetically determined? Is this a hypothesis or empirical data?
Well, I have hypotheses about all my friends. While sitting in the corner, I watch people. And in the course of that watching, I start to form ideas about them. I try to figure out why they're doing things which don't make sense to me. The thing is, it's all kind of subconscious. I don't start out by thinking "I'm going to figure out what makes X tick." I don't even have conscious theories, until I try to explain them to people. Then, suddenly, everything I've observed coalesces into a hypothesis - which wasn't there until someone asks me to explain "X."
What are these "social graces" you speak of?
The set of skills necessary to generally get along with people. Commonly known as being friendly with strangers. I'm an introvert. Now, that doesn't justify my extreme awkwardness in groups I don't know, but it does explain part of it. I feel very awkward carrying on conversations with people I don't know very well. Some people have the charisma necessary to make themselves accepted in any group of people. I'm not one of them.
Is the point of life to know who people are?
No, but life is helped out by knowing people. Think of it as oil for the rest of the machinery of life.
I always envy people that can analyze themselves and others, I have no patience for it. But, I am interested in your thoughts on the subject. This way I can think about it, without performing a long boring analysis of people. That is really boring. It is so much more fun to discuss and do stuff with people than to profile and analyze them.
I definitely agree. Like I said, I don't do it on purpose or by design. If someone's on my radar, I just kind of ... collect information on them, I guess. Long analyses of people are really boring, I agree. That's why I don't generally talk with people about my observations, because they start thinking I actually stalk my friends. I don't. I just pick things up about them over extended periods of time. If I were trying to watch people, I'd be a creeper of the first order.
B
At least you can take your own criticism. I think that would bother me more than other people's criticism.
It does bother me more than other people's criticism. When other people criticize me, I only have to sit through whatever they have to say. When I criticize me, I have to live with it. It's all in my head, and ideas are the most insidious things to stamp out. Like Inception, you know?
Why do you suppose you feel a compulsion to know who you are?
I look at my friends, and they seem so sure in who they are. Granted, they're probably just as confused on the subject as me, but they seem so self-assured. I don't have that sort of confidence. I've taken all the personality tests - there's even one displayed on the sidebar of this blog - but just because I know the "what" doesn't mean I have the foggiest clue as to the "why." And I hate uncertainty. So I guess my compulsion comes from a desire to be certain about what would seem the simplest fact of life: who I am.
Or is it because you have hypothesized who others are and are observing them to determine, if they are indeed as hypothetically determined? Is this a hypothesis or empirical data?
Well, I have hypotheses about all my friends. While sitting in the corner, I watch people. And in the course of that watching, I start to form ideas about them. I try to figure out why they're doing things which don't make sense to me. The thing is, it's all kind of subconscious. I don't start out by thinking "I'm going to figure out what makes X tick." I don't even have conscious theories, until I try to explain them to people. Then, suddenly, everything I've observed coalesces into a hypothesis - which wasn't there until someone asks me to explain "X."
What are these "social graces" you speak of?
The set of skills necessary to generally get along with people. Commonly known as being friendly with strangers. I'm an introvert. Now, that doesn't justify my extreme awkwardness in groups I don't know, but it does explain part of it. I feel very awkward carrying on conversations with people I don't know very well. Some people have the charisma necessary to make themselves accepted in any group of people. I'm not one of them.
Is the point of life to know who people are?
No, but life is helped out by knowing people. Think of it as oil for the rest of the machinery of life.
I always envy people that can analyze themselves and others, I have no patience for it. But, I am interested in your thoughts on the subject. This way I can think about it, without performing a long boring analysis of people. That is really boring. It is so much more fun to discuss and do stuff with people than to profile and analyze them.
I definitely agree. Like I said, I don't do it on purpose or by design. If someone's on my radar, I just kind of ... collect information on them, I guess. Long analyses of people are really boring, I agree. That's why I don't generally talk with people about my observations, because they start thinking I actually stalk my friends. I don't. I just pick things up about them over extended periods of time. If I were trying to watch people, I'd be a creeper of the first order.
B
11 March 2011
Myself
I had an interesting creative writing assignment this week. I had to describe myself from different points of view, including my own and my enemy's. Because I have nothing better to post today, I'll let you read them for yourselves.
People say that the hardest thing to do is to know oneself. Well, I’m here to prove that to you. I don’t quite know who I am. The labels people try to stick on me are laughable. I’m a “perky Goth;” I’m a “capable and mature young woman;” I’m “emo;” “homeschooled;” “Christian;” “insufferable.” It’s reassuring to know other people are secure in my identity. Personally, I wish they’d agree on something. It’s hard to find myself when I’m both a drama-queen and immensely practical. All these artificial labels confuse me. Who am I? I’m Problematic: female; age seventeen. Insert your adjective here.
The lifespan of a teenager is supposedly spent trying to find that teenager’s identity. I suppose there’s some truth in that - I just haven’t found my identity yet. Who am I? I’m a truth seeker. I search to find ultimate reality. I search to find myself, and I long to discover others. I’m a philosopher: I love wisdom. There’s more to it, though. I’m sarcastic: I cope with pain by laughing at it. GK Chesterton is one of my favorite authors and he once stated “Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?” I heartily agree. Pain is best dealt with when treated lightly.
All this could be condensed into some simple facts. I’m a teenager, driven by hormones, searching for myself. We’ll see how well I find what I’m looking for.
~*~
~*~
I dislike Problematic. She’s insufferable, a nuisance. She’s a mélange of arrogance, insecurity, and
prudishness. How can I explain it?
Ah, an example. Say, for instance, she goes to a party full of strangers. While the party has a good time, Problematic sits in the corner, smiling occasionally and passing judgment on the lesser mortals. They’re enjoying themselves too much. This one is a flirt, that one is an exhibitionist. The one in the center of the room is perverted. You don’t want to know what sort of pedantic thoughts flit through her head if she sees a couple go off by their selves. Granted, she never acts on these musings, but you cannot deny their existence.
What makes this stiff formality even worse is her reaction to its effects. Instead of feeling satisfaction from knowing that no one likes her, Problematic instead grows morose and wonders at her continued state of unpopularity. It is within her power to change her reputation, but her attempts fail nonetheless. When she does loosen up and enjoy herself, she becomes loud and obnoxious. She’ll glance nervously about the room while laughing raucously, looking for a sign of disapproval in her companions’ faces. What would happen when she finds discomfort is not what you’d think. Rather than returning to her silent state, Problematic instead grows louder and more intolerable.
Believe me when I say Problematic is an annoying twit without an ounce of social graces. I have to live with her every day, and her inability to do anything right wears on me. If you confront her on your new information, she’ll deny it. But your comments will just increase her insecurity. My job here is done.
~*~
There you have it. Myself from my own perspective and my enemy's. Bet that's more of a look at Problematic's psyche than you were really looking for today.
07 March 2011
Faking My Own Suicide
This week's Music Monday is by Relient K. I like them. Enough said. Moving on ... I like Faking My Own Suicide, by Relient K, because I don't like love songs.They're usually pretty sappy and just not the type of music I enjoy listening to. Obviously, there are some exceptions. And this happens to be one. It has an interesting take on the theme of unrequited love - and some of the puns that are employed are awful, in the best way possible.
Ladies, and Gents,
Faking My Own Suicide
So I've made up my mind
I will pretend
To leave this world behind
And in the end
You'll know I've lied
To get your attention
I'm faking my own suicide
I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me
I wish you thought that I was dead
So rather than me
You'd be depressed instead
And before arriving at my grave
You'd come to the conclusion
You'd loved me all your days
But it's too late
Too late for you to say
Because I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me
I'll write you a letter that you'll keep
Reminding you your love for me
Is more than six feet deep
You say aloud that you
Would've been my wife
And right about that time
Is when I come back to life
And let you know
I'd let you know (whooaa)
That all along I was faking my own suicide
Because I know you loved me
You just never realized
I was faking my own suicide
I'll walk in that room,
See your eyes open so wide
Open so wide
Because you know
Because you know
You will never leave my sight (you will never leave my sight)
Until the day that I die for the first time (until I die for the first time)
And we'll laugh, yeah we'll laugh
And we will cry
So overjoyed with our love
That's so alive
Our love is so alive
Ladies, and Gents,
Faking My Own Suicide
So I've made up my mind
I will pretend
To leave this world behind
And in the end
You'll know I've lied
To get your attention
I'm faking my own suicide
I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me
I wish you thought that I was dead
So rather than me
You'd be depressed instead
And before arriving at my grave
You'd come to the conclusion
You'd loved me all your days
But it's too late
Too late for you to say
Because I'm faking my own suicide
Because I know you love me
You just haven't realized
I'm faking my own suicide
They'll hold a double funeral
Because a part of you will die
Along with me
I'll write you a letter that you'll keep
Reminding you your love for me
Is more than six feet deep
You say aloud that you
Would've been my wife
And right about that time
Is when I come back to life
And let you know
I'd let you know (whooaa)
That all along I was faking my own suicide
Because I know you loved me
You just never realized
I was faking my own suicide
I'll walk in that room,
See your eyes open so wide
Open so wide
Because you know
Because you know
You will never leave my sight (you will never leave my sight)
Until the day that I die for the first time (until I die for the first time)
And we'll laugh, yeah we'll laugh
And we will cry
So overjoyed with our love
That's so alive
Our love is so alive
02 March 2011
Friends
To be quite honest, the concept of friends scares me. Why? Because of the level of implicit trust comes to fruition in their company. But not just any friends - mates. The type who really know who one is.
I read someone somewhere (don't ask me for credentials, I couldn't provide them) that "friends are the people who know who you really are and still choose to be seen in public with you." I don't know about you, but I'm a pretty disgusting piece of humanity inside my little facade. I get angry, petty, peevish, out of sort, ticked off, jealous, or just plain grumpy for some pretty stupid reasons. My mates, unfortunately, have been subjected to that behavior despite my best efforts to limit their exposure. And it scares me that I have to trust them.
Think about it. My friends have seen me at my worst. I'm not indulging in hyperbole when I say that. They've seen some pretty unsavory stuff. They've seen me at the bottom. And they still choose to be seen with me in public. I have no choice but to trust them because the cat is out of the bag. It's not a secret I can keep because the ball is already in their court. It's a level of implicit trust that I cannot alter. The only thing I can do is to worry about it.
Take right now, for instance. I'm ... concerned, to say the least. I've told three people about my peculiar malady in the past month, and am not sure I wanted to in the first place. The first example, I had no choice. Once again, it came out without meaning to. And the second time, it was a reciprocal piece of trust. So while they make me uncomfortable, it's nothing worth staying up over. However, today was something different. There was a split second where I could have recovered, saved myself and kept my secret. And yet, it still came out.
I feel like an idiot. I feel like an exhibitionist. And worst of all, I feel horrible about it. This last instance was not someone who needed the information. If anything, it may only add to his problems. The conversation wasn't naturally turning in the way I forced it.
I'm mad at myself. I made a promise not to talk with anyone about anything, and here I am breaking my word for a reason yet obscured to me. I told aa friend who I enjoy being friends with. If I knew why it came out in the first place, I wouldn't feel so bad.
But as it is, I'm no better than any other attention seeking silly teen-aged girl sharing secrets for a friend's attention. And until I can fix my mistake in person, I have to sit on the fence, trusting my friends against my will.
B
I read someone somewhere (don't ask me for credentials, I couldn't provide them) that "friends are the people who know who you really are and still choose to be seen in public with you." I don't know about you, but I'm a pretty disgusting piece of humanity inside my little facade. I get angry, petty, peevish, out of sort, ticked off, jealous, or just plain grumpy for some pretty stupid reasons. My mates, unfortunately, have been subjected to that behavior despite my best efforts to limit their exposure. And it scares me that I have to trust them.
Think about it. My friends have seen me at my worst. I'm not indulging in hyperbole when I say that. They've seen some pretty unsavory stuff. They've seen me at the bottom. And they still choose to be seen with me in public. I have no choice but to trust them because the cat is out of the bag. It's not a secret I can keep because the ball is already in their court. It's a level of implicit trust that I cannot alter. The only thing I can do is to worry about it.
Take right now, for instance. I'm ... concerned, to say the least. I've told three people about my peculiar malady in the past month, and am not sure I wanted to in the first place. The first example, I had no choice. Once again, it came out without meaning to. And the second time, it was a reciprocal piece of trust. So while they make me uncomfortable, it's nothing worth staying up over. However, today was something different. There was a split second where I could have recovered, saved myself and kept my secret. And yet, it still came out.
I feel like an idiot. I feel like an exhibitionist. And worst of all, I feel horrible about it. This last instance was not someone who needed the information. If anything, it may only add to his problems. The conversation wasn't naturally turning in the way I forced it.
I'm mad at myself. I made a promise not to talk with anyone about anything, and here I am breaking my word for a reason yet obscured to me. I told aa friend who I enjoy being friends with. If I knew why it came out in the first place, I wouldn't feel so bad.
But as it is, I'm no better than any other attention seeking silly teen-aged girl sharing secrets for a friend's attention. And until I can fix my mistake in person, I have to sit on the fence, trusting my friends against my will.
B
28 February 2011
Holding Out for a Hero
Have you ever had a good, old fashioned case of wanderlust? I have. I have it all the time. And this song, sung by Jennifer Saunders, does nothing but aggravate it. It's great to motivate me to work out, so I can be ready for the Doctor. Or Aragorn. Or my gypsy. Or ... well, you get the picture. I have a love/hate relationship with this song. On the one hand, it makes me want to wander. On the other, it makes me reaaallly want to wander. I'm sure you understand now.
Holding Out For A Hero, by Jennifer Saunders
Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I I toss and turn and dream of what I need
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me
Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like fire in my blood
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
Holding Out For A Hero, by Jennifer Saunders
Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I I toss and turn and dream of what I need
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me
Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like fire in my blood
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
21 February 2011
O Valencia
Yup. I've done it again. It's a song by the Decemberists. Am I ashamed? Not in the slightest. I love this song. It's like Romeo and Juliet meets the West Side Story meets some other story which is really familiar and I can't remember quite at the moment. Oh, that's right. King Lear. It's a story song, and I'm a sucker for a song that tells a story. I hope you enjoy O Valencia by the Decemberists.
O Valencia
You belong to the gang
And you say you can't break away
But I'm here with my hands on my heart
Our families can't agree
I'm your brother's sworn enemy
But I'll shout out my love to the stars
So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go
When first we laid eyes
I swore to no compromise
'Til I felt my caress on your skin
Well, how soon we were betrayed
Your sister gave us away
And your father came all unhinged
So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go
Oh Valencia
With your blood still warm on the ground
Valencia
And I swear to the stars
I'll burn this whole city down
All I heard was a shout
Of your brother calling me out
And you ran like a fool to my side
Well the shot, it hit hard
And your frame went limp in my arms
And an oath of love was your dying cry
So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll, go we'll go
Oh Valencia
With your blood still warm on the ground
Valencia
And I'll burn this whole city down
Valencia
With your blood gettin' cold on the ground
Valencia
And I swear to the stars
I'll burn this whole city down
O Valencia
You belong to the gang
And you say you can't break away
But I'm here with my hands on my heart
Our families can't agree
I'm your brother's sworn enemy
But I'll shout out my love to the stars
So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go
When first we laid eyes
I swore to no compromise
'Til I felt my caress on your skin
Well, how soon we were betrayed
Your sister gave us away
And your father came all unhinged
So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll go, we'll go
Oh Valencia
With your blood still warm on the ground
Valencia
And I swear to the stars
I'll burn this whole city down
All I heard was a shout
Of your brother calling me out
And you ran like a fool to my side
Well the shot, it hit hard
And your frame went limp in my arms
And an oath of love was your dying cry
So wait for the stone on your window, your window
Wait by the car and we'll, go we'll go
Oh Valencia
With your blood still warm on the ground
Valencia
And I'll burn this whole city down
Valencia
With your blood gettin' cold on the ground
Valencia
And I swear to the stars
I'll burn this whole city down
15 February 2011
We, the undersigned, do pledge our word to live by the maxims set forth in this Declaration.
1. We swear to be prudent, not prudish
2. We shall endeavor, in thought at deed, to ascertain when to SHUT UP.
3. We pledge to keep the distinction between men and women a clear bright-line: to maintain our respective gender's mystiques.
4. We will honor each others company by enjoying friendships free from flirtation.
5. We shall strive to uphold pure motivations and avoid intended innuendo in conversation.
1. We swear to be prudent, not prudish
2. We shall endeavor, in thought at deed, to ascertain when to SHUT UP.
3. We pledge to keep the distinction between men and women a clear bright-line: to maintain our respective gender's mystiques.
4. We will honor each others company by enjoying friendships free from flirtation.
5. We shall strive to uphold pure motivations and avoid intended innuendo in conversation.
14 February 2011
Soul Meets Body
This is Soul Meets Body, by Death Cab for Cutie. It came up on Pandora one day, and I fell in love with the lyrics. They're kind of strange, kind of interesting, but mostly really cool to think about. Get the feeling that I enjoy my thoughts being provoked by the songs I listen to? Me too. Anyhoo, Soul Meets Body is also helped by the fact that the music itself is quite nice. Overall, I give it 4/5 for musicality and lyricism and mix job. :)
Soul Meets Body
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here
And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain
And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Soul Meets Body
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here
And I cannot guess what we'll discover
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain
And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
And I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
But if the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
07 February 2011
Darlin Do Not Fear
Some days, I'm just in the mood for light pop. And when I'm in the mood for light pop, I turn to Brett Dennen's song Darlin' Do Not Fear. It's upbeat, chirpy, but not annoyingly so.
Enjoy!
Darlin Do Not Fear
When I arrived in my old set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
Alongside my innocence I laid in bed awake
Conflicted and in chains with the impetus of age
But like a phantom she crept across the floor and out the window
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
From its place on the mantle my heart was taken down
Scattered in a thousand little pieces on the ground
And out below the streetlamp like an orphan with a halo
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
'Cause it won't last - your worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And sometimes it takes more than a lifetime to know
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
Your confidences fall, is your faith etched in stone?
Neither can comfort you from the wild unknown
So bury your burning hatred like a hatchet in the snow
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
If you have a broken heart or a battered soul
Find something to hold on to or to let go
To help you through the hard nights like a flask filled with hope
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
'Cause it won't last - your worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And it always hurts the worst when it's the ones we love the most
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
Sometimes your path is marked in the sky
Sometimes you're forced to fit in between the lines
Sometimes all that you can do is say no
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
I said, when I arrived in my old set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
I said, Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
We said, Darlin' do not fear
Enjoy!
Darlin Do Not Fear
When I arrived in my old set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
Alongside my innocence I laid in bed awake
Conflicted and in chains with the impetus of age
But like a phantom she crept across the floor and out the window
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
From its place on the mantle my heart was taken down
Scattered in a thousand little pieces on the ground
And out below the streetlamp like an orphan with a halo
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
'Cause it won't last - your worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And sometimes it takes more than a lifetime to know
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
Your confidences fall, is your faith etched in stone?
Neither can comfort you from the wild unknown
So bury your burning hatred like a hatchet in the snow
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
If you have a broken heart or a battered soul
Find something to hold on to or to let go
To help you through the hard nights like a flask filled with hope
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
'Cause it won't last - your worries will pass
All your troubles they don't stand a chance
And it always hurts the worst when it's the ones we love the most
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
Sometimes your path is marked in the sky
Sometimes you're forced to fit in between the lines
Sometimes all that you can do is say no
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
I said, when I arrived in my old set of clothes
I was half a world away from my home
And I was hunted by the wolves and I was heckled by the crows
Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
I said, Darlin' do not fear what you don't really know
We said, Darlin' do not fear
05 February 2011
Grab Bag #3
I must apologize to my followers. Due to a couple of tournaments and much time spent getting caught up with schoolwork, I have forsaken this blog. Prospects don't look much better for the rest of the school year. But to catch everyone up on what's been happening in the life of Problematic, here is a third grab bag of joy.
January 2011 started interestingly. I started the year in an intense state of stress, due to the fact that the first tournament of the year was in the second week of January. Not only that, but this tournament was in California. Yes, my dear readers, I was in California and did not tell you. I'm sorry. I posted updates about that tournament on Facebook and sent them to my speech club, so if you are one of the unfortunate few who know me in real life/are facebook friends with me, you can read all about it to your heart's content. During this trip, I also visited Biola University, which is one of the colleges on my list right now. I am, after all, a junior.
So, I get home from California, and have one week to do two weeks of homework and prepare for the next tournament. The second tournament was in the fourth week of January. This one was down in Medford, Oregon. I drove down there with my friends Shorty and Shrimpy and Cassandra. Let's just say that there was bonding over caffeine, Pirate's Booty, and **ahem**[censored]. I love these ladies dearly.
Let's see here. What else is new? I've been swamped with homework, have a tournament coming up next weekend, and again the last weekend of February. I got a bad cold last weekend coming home from Medford and am still not over it. And cold medicine does interesting things to my head. I've written a couple more songs which, surprisingly enough, aren't total failures. And I've spent far too much time ignoring some of my more unpleasant thoughts so I can continue to function for the next four months.
Four months. Can you believe it? I have to keep my head above water for a whole four more month. I don't know if I can do it. I mean, I've gotten three months in, but it feels like I can't tread water for that long and my sanity moved out because we had irreconcilable differences.
I was at the doctor's office this week because during last week's tournament, I fell over from my dizziness. Did I mention I've been having dizzy spells since August? Anyway, he was trying to figure out why I've been getting dizzy, and asked about what I did during my free time. I jokingly asked "free time? What is this free time you speak of?" but in all actuality, the joke's not too funny. He didn't think so either. You know something's messed up when your social life is mainly going over duo-stuff with your duo partner. Nothing against Calvin - he's an awesome partner and I enjoy working with him, but I have no spare time. I couldn't tell the doctor about any recent time when I'd been able to relax and just chill.
Meh. I just want to sleep until Summer, and then sleep some more. All this is is to say, I probably won't be posting much in the next four months as I fight my junior year in highschool for supremacy. I'll try to schedule Music Mondays when I can, but don't count on anything spectacular or interesting. If I slow down to think, I'm going to lose it. And my house of cards can't afford to take any more damage than it's already sustained.
Crazily yours,
B
January 2011 started interestingly. I started the year in an intense state of stress, due to the fact that the first tournament of the year was in the second week of January. Not only that, but this tournament was in California. Yes, my dear readers, I was in California and did not tell you. I'm sorry. I posted updates about that tournament on Facebook and sent them to my speech club, so if you are one of the unfortunate few who know me in real life/are facebook friends with me, you can read all about it to your heart's content. During this trip, I also visited Biola University, which is one of the colleges on my list right now. I am, after all, a junior.
So, I get home from California, and have one week to do two weeks of homework and prepare for the next tournament. The second tournament was in the fourth week of January. This one was down in Medford, Oregon. I drove down there with my friends Shorty and Shrimpy and Cassandra. Let's just say that there was bonding over caffeine, Pirate's Booty, and **ahem**[censored]. I love these ladies dearly.
Let's see here. What else is new? I've been swamped with homework, have a tournament coming up next weekend, and again the last weekend of February. I got a bad cold last weekend coming home from Medford and am still not over it. And cold medicine does interesting things to my head. I've written a couple more songs which, surprisingly enough, aren't total failures. And I've spent far too much time ignoring some of my more unpleasant thoughts so I can continue to function for the next four months.
Four months. Can you believe it? I have to keep my head above water for a whole four more month. I don't know if I can do it. I mean, I've gotten three months in, but it feels like I can't tread water for that long and my sanity moved out because we had irreconcilable differences.
I was at the doctor's office this week because during last week's tournament, I fell over from my dizziness. Did I mention I've been having dizzy spells since August? Anyway, he was trying to figure out why I've been getting dizzy, and asked about what I did during my free time. I jokingly asked "free time? What is this free time you speak of?" but in all actuality, the joke's not too funny. He didn't think so either. You know something's messed up when your social life is mainly going over duo-stuff with your duo partner. Nothing against Calvin - he's an awesome partner and I enjoy working with him, but I have no spare time. I couldn't tell the doctor about any recent time when I'd been able to relax and just chill.
Meh. I just want to sleep until Summer, and then sleep some more. All this is is to say, I probably won't be posting much in the next four months as I fight my junior year in highschool for supremacy. I'll try to schedule Music Mondays when I can, but don't count on anything spectacular or interesting. If I slow down to think, I'm going to lose it. And my house of cards can't afford to take any more damage than it's already sustained.
Crazily yours,
B
24 January 2011
All The Right Moves
To be quite honest, this song disappoints me most of the time. The lyrics are good enough that the opening riffs fall flat like day-old root beer. However, there are a couple days out of the year when All the Right Moves, by OneRepublic is just was I want to listen to. Today is one of those days. You know the ones --- where the only music you want to listen to is the mediocre stuff, acknowledging, and perhaps reveling a bit in the moderate qualities of the song. Also, the music video is pretty nice.
Ladies and gents, if you haven't heard this song before, you must have been living in a cave for the past decade. (Or something. I don't remember when it came out, I just know I've heard it for years).
All the Right Moves
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves in all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down
Just paint the picture of a perfect place
They got it better than what anyone's told you
They'll be the King of Hearts, and you're the Queen of Spades
Then we'll fight for you like we were your soldiers
I know we've got it good
But they got it made
And the grass is getting greener each day
I know things are looking up
But soon they'll take us down,
before anybody's knowing our name.
They got all the right friends in all the right places
So yeah, we're going down
We've got all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
Do you think I'm special?
Do you think I'm nice?
Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?
Between the noise you hear
And the sound you like
Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?
It can be possible that rain can fall,
Only when it's over our heads
The sun is shining everyday, but it's far away
Over the world is death.
They got,
They got,
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got, all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
http://www.elyricsworld.com/all_the_right_moves_lyrics_one_republic.html
Yeah, we're going down
It don't matter what you see.
I know I could never be
Someone that'll look like you.
It don't matter what you say,
I know I could never face
someone that could sound like you.
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down.
Yeah, we're going down.
Yeah, we're going down.
(All the right moves, hey)
Yeah, we're going down
(All the right moves, hey)
Yeah, we're going down
Ladies and gents, if you haven't heard this song before, you must have been living in a cave for the past decade. (Or something. I don't remember when it came out, I just know I've heard it for years).
All the Right Moves
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves in all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down
Just paint the picture of a perfect place
They got it better than what anyone's told you
They'll be the King of Hearts, and you're the Queen of Spades
Then we'll fight for you like we were your soldiers
I know we've got it good
But they got it made
And the grass is getting greener each day
I know things are looking up
But soon they'll take us down,
before anybody's knowing our name.
They got all the right friends in all the right places
So yeah, we're going down
We've got all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
Do you think I'm special?
Do you think I'm nice?
Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?
Between the noise you hear
And the sound you like
Are we just sinking in an ocean of faces?
It can be possible that rain can fall,
Only when it's over our heads
The sun is shining everyday, but it's far away
Over the world is death.
They got,
They got,
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got, all the right moves and all the wrong faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
http://www.elyricsworld.com/all_the_right_moves_lyrics_one_republic.html
Yeah, we're going down
It don't matter what you see.
I know I could never be
Someone that'll look like you.
It don't matter what you say,
I know I could never face
someone that could sound like you.
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down
All the right friends in all the wrong places
So yeah, we're going down
They got all the right moves and all the right faces
So yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down
They said, everybody knows, everybody knows where we're going
Yeah, we're going down.
Yeah, we're going down.
Yeah, we're going down.
(All the right moves, hey)
Yeah, we're going down
(All the right moves, hey)
Yeah, we're going down
17 January 2011
Scalliwag
Today's Music Monday is brought to you by my wanderlust. I have said enough. Ladies and gents, please enjoy Scalliwag, by Gaelic Storm.
Scalliwag, by Gaelic Storm
Come away come away with the traveling show
come away with the raggle taggle gypsy oh!
We'll raggle-taggle here we'll raggle-taggle there, raggle up and down taggle everywhere.
From the North from the South from the East from the West, well the sky is our roof and the road is our rest.
No one to say 'yes', no one to say 'no'.
Run free with the raggle-taggle gypsy oh!
They locked you in a tower and threw away the key but this tower's no match for a wag like me
I'll be sneaking through your gate I'll be peaking round the corner well I've come to take your daughter, don't you say I didn't warn ya.
I'll be bringing you a fiddle I'll be singing you a song we'll fiddle, sing, sing, fiddle all day long.
In the halls and the walls they will her us sing and say "whack fol the diddle diddle die diddle day"
Chorus:
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
I'll be rapping at your window I'll be knocking at your door I'll be tip tippy tapping, tippy tapping on the floor
With me fine silk britches and a feather in me hat If I run into your father then I'll stop and have a chat!
Cutting through your garden on the way to rendezvous and the owls in the trees are hooting "who are you?"
And the mice and the cats and the spiders and the bats we're dancing 'round the kitchen like a pack of acrobats
Run away, Run away with the traveling show Run away with the rambling gypsy oh!
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
A roving and a running and a riding on the sea and everywhere we go as happy as can be
All the mountains and the valleys and the rivers and the streams, all the lovely places that you've seen in your dreams
I'll give you the heavens, the stars in the sky, every wooded creature, every bird and butterfly
I've never had a fotune not a penny will you find you're my one and only treasure, you can leave all the rest behind.
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
Scalliwag, by Gaelic Storm
Come away come away with the traveling show
come away with the raggle taggle gypsy oh!
We'll raggle-taggle here we'll raggle-taggle there, raggle up and down taggle everywhere.
From the North from the South from the East from the West, well the sky is our roof and the road is our rest.
No one to say 'yes', no one to say 'no'.
Run free with the raggle-taggle gypsy oh!
They locked you in a tower and threw away the key but this tower's no match for a wag like me
I'll be sneaking through your gate I'll be peaking round the corner well I've come to take your daughter, don't you say I didn't warn ya.
I'll be bringing you a fiddle I'll be singing you a song we'll fiddle, sing, sing, fiddle all day long.
In the halls and the walls they will her us sing and say "whack fol the diddle diddle die diddle day"
Chorus:
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
I'll be rapping at your window I'll be knocking at your door I'll be tip tippy tapping, tippy tapping on the floor
With me fine silk britches and a feather in me hat If I run into your father then I'll stop and have a chat!
Cutting through your garden on the way to rendezvous and the owls in the trees are hooting "who are you?"
And the mice and the cats and the spiders and the bats we're dancing 'round the kitchen like a pack of acrobats
Run away, Run away with the traveling show Run away with the rambling gypsy oh!
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
A roving and a running and a riding on the sea and everywhere we go as happy as can be
All the mountains and the valleys and the rivers and the streams, all the lovely places that you've seen in your dreams
I'll give you the heavens, the stars in the sky, every wooded creature, every bird and butterfly
I've never had a fotune not a penny will you find you're my one and only treasure, you can leave all the rest behind.
Come on and wade, way out into the wayer with me, we're drowning on dry land.
Come on and wade way out into the water with me... Jump in and take my hand.
10 January 2011
The Cast
Out of a morbid curiosity, I was going through the archives of this blog, and found this delicious post. I gave you an idea of who the recurring characters in my melodrama were. Well, a lot of these characters have passed out of my life, so it is high time that my reader become reacquainted with the Cast.
First, an update on older members of the cast:
NtropyNcarnate has gone to college.
Lady Specs has gone to college.
UnexpectedSong has gone to college.
Toothpick has married.
Pipsqueak has joined Running Start.
Dory is at community college.
Now, to introduce the new members:
the Professor is a speaker and novice debater from my club.
Milan is an unexpected friend from California. She is a debater in college, and has been an incredible blessing to know.
Bill is more scenery than anything else. He's UnexpectedSong's little brother. Worldview 2010 was made bearable by hanging out with him and the Professor.
SirSarcasm is a relatively new, also unexpected friend and brother from speech and debate, now in college.
Shorty is a debater whom I've been getting to know over the past year. She's "more cool than hot sauce" in her own words.
Shrimpy is a friend, also from speech and debate, who I look forward to getting to know more over the coming year. She's Shorty's debate partner.
Old friends I never introduced.
Ophelia - a lovely girl from church. She used to blog, but has since left the self-centric world for reality.
Grey - Ophelia's older sister. Also used to blog, but is fairly infrequent now. Both Grey and Ophelia competed in speech and debate, but have dropped out for more edifying activities. :)
There you have it. More characters to keep track of!
First, an update on older members of the cast:
NtropyNcarnate has gone to college.
Lady Specs has gone to college.
UnexpectedSong has gone to college.
Toothpick has married.
Pipsqueak has joined Running Start.
Dory is at community college.
Now, to introduce the new members:
the Professor is a speaker and novice debater from my club.
Milan is an unexpected friend from California. She is a debater in college, and has been an incredible blessing to know.
Bill is more scenery than anything else. He's UnexpectedSong's little brother. Worldview 2010 was made bearable by hanging out with him and the Professor.
SirSarcasm is a relatively new, also unexpected friend and brother from speech and debate, now in college.
Shorty is a debater whom I've been getting to know over the past year. She's "more cool than hot sauce" in her own words.
Shrimpy is a friend, also from speech and debate, who I look forward to getting to know more over the coming year. She's Shorty's debate partner.
Old friends I never introduced.
Ophelia - a lovely girl from church. She used to blog, but has since left the self-centric world for reality.
Grey - Ophelia's older sister. Also used to blog, but is fairly infrequent now. Both Grey and Ophelia competed in speech and debate, but have dropped out for more edifying activities. :)
There you have it. More characters to keep track of!
06 January 2011
Weary
Well, I haven't found the words, precisely, but I have found a word.
Weary, adjective: Having one's interest, forbearance, or indulgence worn out.
I am weary. My forbearance with life is worn out. The constant stress, the mundane melodrama, and the ever present, lurking thoughts of "I've messed up again" are wearing me down. I want out.
It's hard to explain. I've yet to find the words to explain. But this one word, it's a start.
B
Weary, adjective: Having one's interest, forbearance, or indulgence worn out.
I am weary. My forbearance with life is worn out. The constant stress, the mundane melodrama, and the ever present, lurking thoughts of "I've messed up again" are wearing me down. I want out.
It's hard to explain. I've yet to find the words to explain. But this one word, it's a start.
B
03 January 2011
Vagabond, by Blackmore's Night
I was trying to describe this band to Calvin the other day, with less than satisfactory results. If you've ever tried to talk music with someone who doesn't listen to the same style as yourself, you know what I mean when I say it's like speaking different languages. Suffice to say, Blackmore's Night is incredible. It has beautiful lyrics, melodies that could spring from the 1300s, and some pretty awesome guitar riffs to boot. Ladies and gents, I give you Vagabond, by Blackmore's Night.
Vagabond
There's many a crooked path
That has ended me here
Tired, broken and wearing rags
Wild eyed with fear
There's so much more to this vagabond
Than the eye can see
You can see me through different eyes
Make a princess of me
Door to door with a heavy heart
Try to stave off the cold
In the distance a gypsy cart
Filled with thieves and rogues
Sing for supper and sing for pence
A song's all I have to give
With a fiddle and with no rest
Singing only to live
Through the window a golden glow
Families gather round
Here outside it starts to snow
Silence the only sound
B
post scriptum: Last week's Music Monday was not published by me. My brother Thursday broke into my computer in revenge for a hard time I gave him concerning a certain young lady in his acquaintance.
Vagabond
There's many a crooked path
That has ended me here
Tired, broken and wearing rags
Wild eyed with fear
There's so much more to this vagabond
Than the eye can see
You can see me through different eyes
Make a princess of me
Door to door with a heavy heart
Try to stave off the cold
In the distance a gypsy cart
Filled with thieves and rogues
Sing for supper and sing for pence
A song's all I have to give
With a fiddle and with no rest
Singing only to live
Through the window a golden glow
Families gather round
Here outside it starts to snow
Silence the only sound
B
post scriptum: Last week's Music Monday was not published by me. My brother Thursday broke into my computer in revenge for a hard time I gave him concerning a certain young lady in his acquaintance.
01 January 2011
Pleased to make your acquaintance
Hello there! I'm Problematic. You haven't met me before, but it's understandable. You only just became. I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends this year. No, no, I completely agree. If we're going to be best friends, you need to know a bit about what's been happening. My relationship with your predecessor. No, I didn't kill it. It left on its own, quite without my help. You're curious now? Well, so am I.
I stole a form from my friend, Bethany. You should meet her, too. Anyways, this form will make the acquaintance a little easier. Are you ready? Let's leap right in. :)
Well, the past relationship was strained. A feeling of exuberance carried over from your predecessor's predecessor. Things looked pretty peachy. In the early months of our time together, 2010 and I got into many messes throughout tournament season. Spirits were high. I criticized angsty teenagers. I congratulated my clubmates on their achievements in the great realm of competitive forensics. I made opinionated, annoying, aggravating, or just amusing sarcastic comments on a great many things I didn't properly understand.
Then in March, I went and paged at the state capitol, Olympia. That was very exhilarating, and I've completely lost faith in the state of our country as a result. But the power, the incredible power of it all! I'm sorry, I have to work on suppressing my evil chuckles. It won't happen again, I promise. Don't quote me on that.
Anyways, there was a violin concert where I endeavored to make my lovely, luscious Ignatius sound like a bagpipe, with a surprising amount of success. However, in March, things started taking a turn for the worse. As I've said in previous posts (which, 2011, you may want to check out as they explain quite a bit) I don't have the words to talk about that now, but suffice it to say, the clouds were rolling in, and rosy-fingered Aurora was no longer visible above the menacing strata of rain storms.
April was the Regional Qualifier. My good friend Jedi Gerbil qualified to Nationals as well as a few others, but I had the task of cheering up a few depressive clubmates who thought that their first turn at Regionals would yield fantastic results.
In May, my uncle Barry Hendrickson died, leaving behind a wife and little girl. We do not know if he ever accepted Christ or not. Also in May, I was accepted into a local drama company's protection of Much Ado About Nothing. I strongly believe it was based on my violin and not on any acting ability I may hope to possess. June through early July was spent in rehearsals for Much Ado, saying goodbyes to friends who were all but digested in the life of college, and preparing from my month of hell. During the rehearsals, I asked Calvin if he'd consider being my duo partner for the upcoming tournament season --- that's the one that you'll be watching with me. :)
Immediately after the last performance of Much Ado, 2010 and I headed over to Worldview Academy for a week of recursiveness. It was alright, more for getting to know a couple kids from the league. Then I taught Speech Camp. Then, I played in a pit orchestra for Les Miserables. Then, I went to debate camp. All in the space of three weeks. At debate camp, 2010 and I had some nice, good, old-fashioned emotional moments.
And met a new friend. From now on, I shall refer to her as Milan. :)
In the fall, I dealt with the mass migration of friends out of my circle. And a few others things as well which belong in my journal. Impertiant year! No, I don't trust you to keep a secret. Sorry. Sorry. Wrong way to start out. Sorry. :)
Anyways, those are the high and low-lights. But to sum things up... Just between friends, you understand. Don't expect this to happen in public or anything.
Classic Epic Times: Running around Coop B with NtropyNcarnate, giggling with Grey and Ophelia and other friends and staying up far too late considering the tournaments the next day, bannana gun fights with Escapist, teaching a class about cutting interps on the fly, chasing down the Professor with a cup of water and being soaked by his gallon of ice-tea.
First: energy drink, adoptive older brother, friend married, friends lost, college visit, part in a produced play, driving all the way across the state of Montana, close family member to die.
Most nostalgic songs: Inside of You, In Spite of You; So She Dances; Dark Waltz; Always Look On the Bright Side of Life; Kernkraft 500; Prelude 12/21; Lost?; I Can Walk On Water; Not Gonna Get Us
Favorite memories: Waterfights over the summer; sleepovers with friends; hiking Mt. Si with Speech and Debate friends; conversations on the balcony; bugging the Professor with a Basshunter song all week at Worldview
Major Hits: Converse, Tascam DP-02, Pike Place Market, Despicable Me, Sherlock Holmes, Inception, iPod, Henna, KatyBell Socks, Knee High Leather Boots, stilleto heels, Kershaw knives, YMCA, Jamba Juice, Five Pump No Water Non Fat Chai Tea Lattes
Best Books: The Elegance of the Hedgehog, The Schwa Was Here, The Hunger Games series, the Harry Potter serires, Stargirl, Nuremberg: Infamy On Trial, I Have Lived A Thousand Years, Mistborn Series, Elantris, I Am Not A Serial Killer
Best Music: Nightwish, Snow Patrol, Coldplay, Sherlock Holmes-Schindler's List-Lord of the Rings-Inception soundtracks, The Eternal Chapter, Within Temptation, select Basshunter selections, Loreena McKennit
Keywords: cards, caffeine, facade, insomnia, bleary, bannana
Keywords [inside joke edition]: Foot-lover, brrrgggh??!, bannana-bread, ding!, wibbly-wobbly
Favorite teacher: Dr. Lund
Best quotes:
"You know, you look like a international jewel thief. I don't trust you one bit."
"You've got an innocent face but scarily crafty eyes."
"I thought they were giving the quilt a rest - but there's a dog in there..."
" If I'm a Spitfire, that makes you a Panzer: Slow, ground-borne, and easy to destroy from the air..."
"You're a one-track mind with a skip on it"
'Dalink, dis iz Russia. Ve have vodka on tap."
"You smell like a mad scientist - musty with a megalomaniacal overtone."
"I'm like red wine, complete with the nutty undertones." (this and the one previous to it came from entirely different conversations.)
"Problematic, if you're my sister, you're my little sister." "But I'm older than you." "And this proves what?"
And there you have it, 2011. See? You know me already! So, with that footing, I'd like to say, once and for all. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance.
B
I stole a form from my friend, Bethany. You should meet her, too. Anyways, this form will make the acquaintance a little easier. Are you ready? Let's leap right in. :)
Well, the past relationship was strained. A feeling of exuberance carried over from your predecessor's predecessor. Things looked pretty peachy. In the early months of our time together, 2010 and I got into many messes throughout tournament season. Spirits were high. I criticized angsty teenagers. I congratulated my clubmates on their achievements in the great realm of competitive forensics. I made opinionated, annoying, aggravating, or just amusing sarcastic comments on a great many things I didn't properly understand.
Then in March, I went and paged at the state capitol, Olympia. That was very exhilarating, and I've completely lost faith in the state of our country as a result. But the power, the incredible power of it all! I'm sorry, I have to work on suppressing my evil chuckles. It won't happen again, I promise. Don't quote me on that.
Anyways, there was a violin concert where I endeavored to make my lovely, luscious Ignatius sound like a bagpipe, with a surprising amount of success. However, in March, things started taking a turn for the worse. As I've said in previous posts (which, 2011, you may want to check out as they explain quite a bit) I don't have the words to talk about that now, but suffice it to say, the clouds were rolling in, and rosy-fingered Aurora was no longer visible above the menacing strata of rain storms.
April was the Regional Qualifier. My good friend Jedi Gerbil qualified to Nationals as well as a few others, but I had the task of cheering up a few depressive clubmates who thought that their first turn at Regionals would yield fantastic results.
In May, my uncle Barry Hendrickson died, leaving behind a wife and little girl. We do not know if he ever accepted Christ or not. Also in May, I was accepted into a local drama company's protection of Much Ado About Nothing. I strongly believe it was based on my violin and not on any acting ability I may hope to possess. June through early July was spent in rehearsals for Much Ado, saying goodbyes to friends who were all but digested in the life of college, and preparing from my month of hell. During the rehearsals, I asked Calvin if he'd consider being my duo partner for the upcoming tournament season --- that's the one that you'll be watching with me. :)
Immediately after the last performance of Much Ado, 2010 and I headed over to Worldview Academy for a week of recursiveness. It was alright, more for getting to know a couple kids from the league. Then I taught Speech Camp. Then, I played in a pit orchestra for Les Miserables. Then, I went to debate camp. All in the space of three weeks. At debate camp, 2010 and I had some nice, good, old-fashioned emotional moments.
And met a new friend. From now on, I shall refer to her as Milan. :)
In the fall, I dealt with the mass migration of friends out of my circle. And a few others things as well which belong in my journal. Impertiant year! No, I don't trust you to keep a secret. Sorry. Sorry. Wrong way to start out. Sorry. :)
Anyways, those are the high and low-lights. But to sum things up... Just between friends, you understand. Don't expect this to happen in public or anything.
Classic Epic Times: Running around Coop B with NtropyNcarnate, giggling with Grey and Ophelia and other friends and staying up far too late considering the tournaments the next day, bannana gun fights with Escapist, teaching a class about cutting interps on the fly, chasing down the Professor with a cup of water and being soaked by his gallon of ice-tea.
First: energy drink, adoptive older brother, friend married, friends lost, college visit, part in a produced play, driving all the way across the state of Montana, close family member to die.
Most nostalgic songs: Inside of You, In Spite of You; So She Dances; Dark Waltz; Always Look On the Bright Side of Life; Kernkraft 500; Prelude 12/21; Lost?; I Can Walk On Water; Not Gonna Get Us
Favorite memories: Waterfights over the summer; sleepovers with friends; hiking Mt. Si with Speech and Debate friends; conversations on the balcony; bugging the Professor with a Basshunter song all week at Worldview
Major Hits: Converse, Tascam DP-02, Pike Place Market, Despicable Me, Sherlock Holmes, Inception, iPod, Henna, KatyBell Socks, Knee High Leather Boots, stilleto heels, Kershaw knives, YMCA, Jamba Juice, Five Pump No Water Non Fat Chai Tea Lattes
Best Books: The Elegance of the Hedgehog, The Schwa Was Here, The Hunger Games series, the Harry Potter serires, Stargirl, Nuremberg: Infamy On Trial, I Have Lived A Thousand Years, Mistborn Series, Elantris, I Am Not A Serial Killer
Best Music: Nightwish, Snow Patrol, Coldplay, Sherlock Holmes-Schindler's List-Lord of the Rings-Inception soundtracks, The Eternal Chapter, Within Temptation, select Basshunter selections, Loreena McKennit
Keywords: cards, caffeine, facade, insomnia, bleary, bannana
Keywords [inside joke edition]: Foot-lover, brrrgggh??!, bannana-bread, ding!, wibbly-wobbly
Favorite teacher: Dr. Lund
Best quotes:
"You know, you look like a international jewel thief. I don't trust you one bit."
"You've got an innocent face but scarily crafty eyes."
"I thought they were giving the quilt a rest - but there's a dog in there..."
" If I'm a Spitfire, that makes you a Panzer: Slow, ground-borne, and easy to destroy from the air..."
"You're a one-track mind with a skip on it"
'Dalink, dis iz Russia. Ve have vodka on tap."
"You smell like a mad scientist - musty with a megalomaniacal overtone."
"I'm like red wine, complete with the nutty undertones." (this and the one previous to it came from entirely different conversations.)
"Problematic, if you're my sister, you're my little sister." "But I'm older than you." "And this proves what?"
And there you have it, 2011. See? You know me already! So, with that footing, I'd like to say, once and for all. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance.
B
31 December 2010
Goodnight 2010
Well, I still haven't quite found the words to describe things yet. There are quite a few unfinished drafts sitting in the publishing queue, so while we wait, I'll redo a New Year's tag. Here you go.
3 things I accomplished last year:
1. Paging at the Washington State Senate
2. Overcame my phobia of being touched
3. Received recording equipment!
3 things I plan to accomplish this year:
1. Get closer to NCFCA Nationals (if not actually to them)
2. Survive
3. learn guitar
3 embarrassing things that happened last year:
1.Crying in front of a stranger at debate camp (but it all worked out ;P )
2.Trust games in drama over the summer.They involved being held (like this, with less intent to snog and more stiffness), by my soon-to-be duo partner and dealing with my phobia of being touched.
3. Presuming friendship with someone who didn't want it.
3 life-changing things that happened last year:
1. Teaching Speech Camp and attending debate camp
2. A very unpleasant realization
3. Singing "I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen" the eve before my 17th birthday. The only time I sang it while 16.
3 things that happened last year that made me smile:
1. Being told I looked like an international jewel thief
2. Adopting a few new brothers - older and younger
3. Arguing with a debater from the National Forensics League about Communism
3 random things that I didn't do last year:
1. I didn't go to Hawaii
2. I didn't record an album
3.I didn't forget to water the orchid (at least, I didn't until it died.)
3 things I accomplished last year:
1. Paging at the Washington State Senate
2. Overcame my phobia of being touched
3. Received recording equipment!
3 things I plan to accomplish this year:
1. Get closer to NCFCA Nationals (if not actually to them)
2. Survive
3. learn guitar
3 embarrassing things that happened last year:
1.Crying in front of a stranger at debate camp (but it all worked out ;P )
2.Trust games in drama over the summer.They involved being held (like this, with less intent to snog and more stiffness), by my soon-to-be duo partner and dealing with my phobia of being touched.
3. Presuming friendship with someone who didn't want it.
3 life-changing things that happened last year:
1. Teaching Speech Camp and attending debate camp
2. A very unpleasant realization
3. Singing "I Am Sixteen Going On Seventeen" the eve before my 17th birthday. The only time I sang it while 16.
3 things that happened last year that made me smile:
1. Being told I looked like an international jewel thief
2. Adopting a few new brothers - older and younger
3. Arguing with a debater from the National Forensics League about Communism
3 random things that I didn't do last year:
1. I didn't go to Hawaii
2. I didn't record an album
3.I didn't forget to water the orchid (at least, I didn't until it died.)
20 December 2010
Intruder Alert!
This isn't really a new post, despite appearances, as I've been busy lately and so this just feels too short to really count.
Thank you for holding. Please enjoy the music.
Thank you for holding. Please enjoy the music.
My Body Is A Cage
To be quite honest, I'm not quite sure what to think of this song. When I first listened to it, I thought it was beautifully, if pointlessly morbid, and had no resolution. It sounded like the dualists who believe that the physical world is entirely worthless, and that their bodies trap them in an existence that is nothing like what true reality is.
But the melody was catchy, so I looked up the lyrics and found Biblical allusions in the verses. So I'm in the strange position of loving the melody and verses, but can't quite decide whether to love or hate the chorus.
Have at it!
My Body Is A Cage, by Arcade Fire
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head
I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
My body is a
My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age
That screams my name at night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
Set my spirit free
Set my spirit free
Set my body free
But the melody was catchy, so I looked up the lyrics and found Biblical allusions in the verses. So I'm in the strange position of loving the melody and verses, but can't quite decide whether to love or hate the chorus.
Have at it!
My Body Is A Cage, by Arcade Fire
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head
I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
My body is a
My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age
That screams my name at night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
Set my spirit free
Set my spirit free
Set my body free
18 December 2010
Low
Dear readers, before you chastise me for a record-breaking delay on Music Monday, let me explain. This past week has been pretty stressful. What with the last week of classes, the reports due, Christmas next week, and an upcoming tournament to prepare for, I completely lost track of time. So today, Saturday, let me offer you a humble piece for your musical edification.
Low, by Coldplay, comes off one of my favorite albums: X&Y. While I admit that some of this album confounds my mind entirely, the theme is that of relationships. And if you can sense a theme here, you're a genius.
Anyways, I like Low because it seems to be talking about someone searching for perfect love but not finding it. It's interesting like that.
Ladies and gents,
Low, by Coldplay
You see the world in black and white
No colour or light
You think you'll never get it right
But you know you might
The sky could fall could fall on me
The parting of the seas
But you mean more, mean more to me
Than any color I can see
All you ever wanted was love
But you never looked hard enough
It's never gonna give itself up
All you ever wanted to be
Living in perfect symmetry
Nothing is as down or as up... as us
You see the world in black and white
Not painted right
You see no meaning to your life
Yes, you try
Yes, you try
And all you ever wanted it was love
But you never looked hard enough
It's never gonna give itself up
All you ever wanted to be
Living in perfect symmetry
Nothing is as down or as up
Don't you want to see it come soon
Floating in a big white balloon
Oh, given your own silver spoon
Don't you want to see it come down
There for throwing your arms around
an sayin "you're a moment too soon"
Cause I feel low
Cause I feel low
Oh oh oh oh oh
Yeah I feel low
Low, by Coldplay, comes off one of my favorite albums: X&Y. While I admit that some of this album confounds my mind entirely, the theme is that of relationships. And if you can sense a theme here, you're a genius.
Anyways, I like Low because it seems to be talking about someone searching for perfect love but not finding it. It's interesting like that.
Ladies and gents,
Low, by Coldplay
You see the world in black and white
No colour or light
You think you'll never get it right
But you know you might
The sky could fall could fall on me
The parting of the seas
But you mean more, mean more to me
Than any color I can see
All you ever wanted was love
But you never looked hard enough
It's never gonna give itself up
All you ever wanted to be
Living in perfect symmetry
Nothing is as down or as up... as us
You see the world in black and white
Not painted right
You see no meaning to your life
Yes, you try
Yes, you try
And all you ever wanted it was love
But you never looked hard enough
It's never gonna give itself up
All you ever wanted to be
Living in perfect symmetry
Nothing is as down or as up
Don't you want to see it come soon
Floating in a big white balloon
Oh, given your own silver spoon
Don't you want to see it come down
There for throwing your arms around
an sayin "you're a moment too soon"
Cause I feel low
Cause I feel low
Oh oh oh oh oh
Yeah I feel low
08 December 2010
For A Friend Close To My Heart
For the past few weeks, I've been working on a sonnet for a British Literature class. Iambic pentameter, quatrains and couplets filled my head as I wrote. Because I spent so much time on this, I figured I'd post this. Not to continue a common theme or anything, of course.
My dearest friend for whom I’d give my life
Has killed my spirit to the core, for I
Have been a faithful friend. We had no strife
‘twixt us, yet still you cause my soul to die.
Our hearts did beat as one, did dream as one,
Inseparable were we. I gave no cause
To hurt me thus, yet hurt me you have done.
Never I have broken friendship’s true laws,
And yet you chastise me. But still I’d take
Great pain from you. For faithful friends are true
Through earthly woes and problems that you make ---
I’ll guard your back in all the things you do.
As David with Saul did not break nor sever
So will my faithfulness be yours forev’r.
07 December 2010
Friends, I appear to have relapsed. While I can't recall blogging about this previously, the pages of my journal from last year are filled this particular issue: my great social anxiety. Don't laugh. It's not funny.
I had thought that, only by God's grace, I had overcome that hurdle, but as I just said, I seem to have relapsed. Due to quite a few semi-related incidents in the past few weeks, I once again question and re-question every action's motivation.
It doesn't stop there. My motivations aren't the only victims. My tact. My approach. Other's interpretations. What my mother would say.
They've all returned in full force, bringing me back to the realization that a mountain top in the Himalayas doesn't look so bad after all. My honeymoon with humanity appears to be over. It's back to business as usual: ie, psychotic Problematic.
What's more, Sylvia, my alter-ego, seems to have returned as well. Don't misinterpret this. I don't have fractured personalities. Rather, what I do have is a very dark sense of humor, irony, cynicism, and a generally morbid fascination with loneliness in pain, all of which I term "Sylvia" to distinguish them from who I consider myself to be.
Wait a second. I thought we were seeing the dark side of Problematic these past few months.
There is actually a difference, but it's a little hard to explain. Basically, Sylvia is an appreciation for the beauty in tragedy combined with a complete disdain for assumed pain. Sylvia is a stoic philosopher from the days of Greek philosophy. She's an aesthetic, if a cynical and calloused one.
While Sylvia was gone, I had more compassion for other teenagers going through their own trials. "It's possible," I told myself, "that their grief is just as real as mine."
But the return of double-think and Sylvia is making me wonder if all the angst of the past fall has been nothing but that: they type of dramatics I despise so much caused by nothing more than the racing of chemicals and hormones through my pubescent body. It need not be stated that this doubt extends to others, even the ones I love and trust.
The sum of all this is to say that yet another layer has been added to my melodrama. GK Chesterton once said "Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?" and while I am having trouble following his advice, I agree, there's not much else you can do. Wait it out and laugh.
It's aggravating, really. I was close, ever so close to breaking out into full-fledged humanity. To be caught in old traps when freedom was close enough to smell is frustrating. I am impotent in my own snares.
Yes, they protect me, but at what cost? Is reality worth enough to open myself up to for more betrayals? What if they're self-inflicted injuries? What price am I willing to pay to be secure in the knowledge that no one else will hurt me? Should I prefer the injuries of a friend to ones of my own devising?
Friends, if you think of it, please include me in your prayers. Because that mountain top has never looked so appealing.
B
I had thought that, only by God's grace, I had overcome that hurdle, but as I just said, I seem to have relapsed. Due to quite a few semi-related incidents in the past few weeks, I once again question and re-question every action's motivation.
It doesn't stop there. My motivations aren't the only victims. My tact. My approach. Other's interpretations. What my mother would say.
They've all returned in full force, bringing me back to the realization that a mountain top in the Himalayas doesn't look so bad after all. My honeymoon with humanity appears to be over. It's back to business as usual: ie, psychotic Problematic.
What's more, Sylvia, my alter-ego, seems to have returned as well. Don't misinterpret this. I don't have fractured personalities. Rather, what I do have is a very dark sense of humor, irony, cynicism, and a generally morbid fascination with loneliness in pain, all of which I term "Sylvia" to distinguish them from who I consider myself to be.
Wait a second. I thought we were seeing the dark side of Problematic these past few months.
There is actually a difference, but it's a little hard to explain. Basically, Sylvia is an appreciation for the beauty in tragedy combined with a complete disdain for assumed pain. Sylvia is a stoic philosopher from the days of Greek philosophy. She's an aesthetic, if a cynical and calloused one.
While Sylvia was gone, I had more compassion for other teenagers going through their own trials. "It's possible," I told myself, "that their grief is just as real as mine."
But the return of double-think and Sylvia is making me wonder if all the angst of the past fall has been nothing but that: they type of dramatics I despise so much caused by nothing more than the racing of chemicals and hormones through my pubescent body. It need not be stated that this doubt extends to others, even the ones I love and trust.
The sum of all this is to say that yet another layer has been added to my melodrama. GK Chesterton once said "Always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce else can you do?" and while I am having trouble following his advice, I agree, there's not much else you can do. Wait it out and laugh.
It's aggravating, really. I was close, ever so close to breaking out into full-fledged humanity. To be caught in old traps when freedom was close enough to smell is frustrating. I am impotent in my own snares.
Yes, they protect me, but at what cost? Is reality worth enough to open myself up to for more betrayals? What if they're self-inflicted injuries? What price am I willing to pay to be secure in the knowledge that no one else will hurt me? Should I prefer the injuries of a friend to ones of my own devising?
Friends, if you think of it, please include me in your prayers. Because that mountain top has never looked so appealing.
B
Stand My Ground
Stand My Ground, by Within Temptation is yet another favorite of mine. I enjoy exercising to it because of it's driving beat and resolved lyrics. It's quite pretty.
Stand My Ground
I can see
when you stay low nothing happens
Does it feel right?
Late at night
things I thought I'd put behind me
haunt my mind
I just know there's no escape now
once it's set its eyes on you
but I won't run, have to stare it in the eye
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground
It's all around
getting stronger, coming closer
into my world
I can feel
that it's time for me to face it
can I take it?
Though this might just be the ending
of the life I held so dear
but I won't run, there's no turning back from here
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground
All I know for sure is I'm trying
I will always stand my ground
Stand my ground, I won't give in (I won't give in)
I won't give up (I won't give up)
no more denying, I got to face it
won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
if I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground.
Stand My Ground
I can see
when you stay low nothing happens
Does it feel right?
Late at night
things I thought I'd put behind me
haunt my mind
I just know there's no escape now
once it's set its eyes on you
but I won't run, have to stare it in the eye
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground
It's all around
getting stronger, coming closer
into my world
I can feel
that it's time for me to face it
can I take it?
Though this might just be the ending
of the life I held so dear
but I won't run, there's no turning back from here
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground
All I know for sure is I'm trying
I will always stand my ground
Stand my ground, I won't give in (I won't give in)
I won't give up (I won't give up)
no more denying, I got to face it
won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
if I don't make it, someone else will
Stand my ground, I won't give in
No more denying, I gotta face it
Won't close my eyes and hide the truth inside
If I don't make it, someone else will
Stand My Ground.
30 November 2010
The Legionnaire's Lament
Well, I'd better 'fess up. I've been on a binge of The Decemberists. At the moment, they're the only band I want to listen to. It's no small surprise, therefore, to find myself introducing you to a song from, you guessed it, The Decemberists. It's called the Legionnaire's Lament. The thing I like about this particular song is that it is set in a historical era - the French Legion. Not only that, but the images it captures are so vivid, and the language used is just perfect. But enough about the mechanics. You should experience it for yourselves.
The Legionnaire's Lament, by The Decemberists
I'm a legionnaire
Camel in disrepair
Hoping for a frigidaire to come passing by
I am on reprieve
Lacking my joie de vive
Missing my gay paris
In this desert dry
And I wrote my girl
Told her I would not return
Terribly taken a turn
For the worse now I fear
It's been a year or more
Since they shipped me to this foreign shore
Fighting in a foreign war
So far away from my home
If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevards
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars,
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine.
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again.
La la la la dam
La la la low
Medicating in the sun
Pinched doses of laudanum
Longing for the old fecundity of my homeland
Curses to this mirage!
A bottle of ancient Chiraz
A smattering of distant applause
Is ringing in my poor ears
On the old left bank
My baby in a charabanc
Riding up the width and length
Of the Champs Elysees
If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again
If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles its like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again...
Be back again,
Be back again,
I'll be back again
B
The Legionnaire's Lament, by The Decemberists
I'm a legionnaire
Camel in disrepair
Hoping for a frigidaire to come passing by
I am on reprieve
Lacking my joie de vive
Missing my gay paris
In this desert dry
And I wrote my girl
Told her I would not return
Terribly taken a turn
For the worse now I fear
It's been a year or more
Since they shipped me to this foreign shore
Fighting in a foreign war
So far away from my home
If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevards
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars,
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine.
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again.
La la la la dam
La la la low
Medicating in the sun
Pinched doses of laudanum
Longing for the old fecundity of my homeland
Curses to this mirage!
A bottle of ancient Chiraz
A smattering of distant applause
Is ringing in my poor ears
On the old left bank
My baby in a charabanc
Riding up the width and length
Of the Champs Elysees
If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles it's like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again
If only summer rain would fall
On the houses and the boulevard
And the side walk bagatelles its like a dream
With the roar of cars
And the lulling of the cafe bars
The sweetly sleeping sweeping of the Seine
Lord I don't know if I'll ever be back again...
Be back again,
Be back again,
I'll be back again
B
27 November 2010
Fly, you fools
This past Thursday was Thanksgiving,the holiday where we eat lots of food and show off our philosophical sides by musing aloud for the gathered company on things we're thankful for. Don't imagine that my cynicism dulls my enjoyment of this holiday. In fact, it is my favorite of them all. Because it is a National Holiday, schools from kindergarten to post-graduate take two days off. Thus I find myself this weekend with the friends I so dearly missed coming back to Washington.
For the majority of these partially-digested college friends, such is no longer the case. Perhaps it was the antagonistic room-mates. Perhaps, it was because I wasn't as good friends with them as I deluded myself. Maybe the High-School switch was permanently welded into the "off" position their first week of college. It could be all three.
Whatever the case, I found myself in the awkward position of pretending to be the person I was six months ago- the last time anyone noticed who I am.
Let me tell you, it's not pleasant. Trying to remember and approximate who one's been is a difficult task in the privacy of one's bedroom. But to pull off a perfect performance in front of those who knew one and expect one to both remain in the same static stasis and respect the new people they've become is a Herculean task.
I spent the precious time I had with these Once-Friends screaming in my mind.
People change, sweetheart. You've changed while you were at college? That's great, so have I.
I guess they just can't hear,not when it's spoken through non- telepathicmeans. Plain language, straight talking, they are senseless.
From my boat out at sea, I thought I'd seen boats coming over the horizon. Trick of the light, I suppose. Happens that way some times.
All that's left is to mourn the loss of those friends. Don't get me wrong. I discovered this weekend that they couldn't begin to scratch the surface of the plexiglass even if they tried, but this no longer bothers me. They no longer touch me, but I'm still fond of them. The same way you're fond of a particular sportsman or actor with whom you share nothing in common.
So while I mourn, it is not for what is or what could have been. I weep for what was, what has been back when I still cared.
Requiescat in pace, meae amicae.
For the majority of these partially-digested college friends, such is no longer the case. Perhaps it was the antagonistic room-mates. Perhaps, it was because I wasn't as good friends with them as I deluded myself. Maybe the High-School switch was permanently welded into the "off" position their first week of college. It could be all three.
Whatever the case, I found myself in the awkward position of pretending to be the person I was six months ago- the last time anyone noticed who I am.
Let me tell you, it's not pleasant. Trying to remember and approximate who one's been is a difficult task in the privacy of one's bedroom. But to pull off a perfect performance in front of those who knew one and expect one to both remain in the same static stasis and respect the new people they've become is a Herculean task.
I spent the precious time I had with these Once-Friends screaming in my mind.
People change, sweetheart. You've changed while you were at college? That's great, so have I.
I guess they just can't hear,not when it's spoken through non- telepathicmeans. Plain language, straight talking, they are senseless.
From my boat out at sea, I thought I'd seen boats coming over the horizon. Trick of the light, I suppose. Happens that way some times.
All that's left is to mourn the loss of those friends. Don't get me wrong. I discovered this weekend that they couldn't begin to scratch the surface of the plexiglass even if they tried, but this no longer bothers me. They no longer touch me, but I'm still fond of them. The same way you're fond of a particular sportsman or actor with whom you share nothing in common.
So while I mourn, it is not for what is or what could have been. I weep for what was, what has been back when I still cared.
Requiescat in pace, meae amicae.
21 November 2010
Reminder
I am once again reminded of the folly of my ways. This is what happened:
Yesterday was the first speech Round Robin of the year, and as always, I had some interesting conversations with fellow competitors. This year was unique, thought. I had a very intriguing conversation with a couple of friends I had passed judgment on as nice, if clueless, guys. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it's true.
What I discovered yesterday was so "coincidental" it could be nothing short of Divine guidance. Because you see, I found two people who claim to have shared the same malady as me, and what's more, their opinions on this malady were also similar. It was incredible, and entirely unstaged.
Of course, this leads me to wonder if these two young men actually experience the same as I, or if they merely said it to conform to the drift of the conversation. What's more, it is an interesting thought to wonder if they now express doubts about the authenticity of my "confession" as motivated by a desire to fit in with the expressed standard. I will never know, as this topic of conversation will most likely never occur again with my conversation partners. I will not force the issue, and while I cannot tell them this personally, I hope they know their confidence is in safe hands.
Thinking back on this conversation, I become a little embarrassed. Did I reveal too much? Did I say what I said from a desire to impress, blend in? Not to add to the conversation? I don't know, really.
However these two friends came away from the conversation, I can only hope they realize how much harm they could do should they choose. But even with these bitter thoughts, I am elated and chastised.
To have written them off as a silly and stupid guys without even wondering if we had commonalities was a gross error. This lesson won't stick for long, but I hope that maybe, just maybe it will last long enough.
Nothing's really going to change as a result of yesterday's conversation. Being a secret-keeper doesn't automatically grant some special friendship upon the two parties. But I will guard their secrets as my own, because in a way, they are my secrets, too. And if that doesn't make sense, you haven't begun to understand me.
Pensively,
B
Yesterday was the first speech Round Robin of the year, and as always, I had some interesting conversations with fellow competitors. This year was unique, thought. I had a very intriguing conversation with a couple of friends I had passed judgment on as nice, if clueless, guys. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it's true.
What I discovered yesterday was so "coincidental" it could be nothing short of Divine guidance. Because you see, I found two people who claim to have shared the same malady as me, and what's more, their opinions on this malady were also similar. It was incredible, and entirely unstaged.
Of course, this leads me to wonder if these two young men actually experience the same as I, or if they merely said it to conform to the drift of the conversation. What's more, it is an interesting thought to wonder if they now express doubts about the authenticity of my "confession" as motivated by a desire to fit in with the expressed standard. I will never know, as this topic of conversation will most likely never occur again with my conversation partners. I will not force the issue, and while I cannot tell them this personally, I hope they know their confidence is in safe hands.
Thinking back on this conversation, I become a little embarrassed. Did I reveal too much? Did I say what I said from a desire to impress, blend in? Not to add to the conversation? I don't know, really.
However these two friends came away from the conversation, I can only hope they realize how much harm they could do should they choose. But even with these bitter thoughts, I am elated and chastised.
To have written them off as a silly and stupid guys without even wondering if we had commonalities was a gross error. This lesson won't stick for long, but I hope that maybe, just maybe it will last long enough.
Nothing's really going to change as a result of yesterday's conversation. Being a secret-keeper doesn't automatically grant some special friendship upon the two parties. But I will guard their secrets as my own, because in a way, they are my secrets, too. And if that doesn't make sense, you haven't begun to understand me.
Pensively,
B
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