Me Gustas Cuando Callas
Por Pablo Neruda, Siglo XX
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
Y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te pareces a mi alma,
y te pareces a la palabra melancolía;
Me gustas cuando callas y estás como distante.
Y estás como quejándote, mariposa en arrullo.
Y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te alcanza:
déjame que me calle con el silencio tuyo.
Déjame que te hable también con tu silencio
claro como una lámpara, simple como un anillo.
Eres como la noche, callada y constelada.
Tu silencio es de estrella, tan lejano y sencillo.
Me gustas cuando callas porque estás como ausente.
Distante y dolorosa como si hubieras muerto.
Una palabra entonces, una sonrisa bastan.
Y estoy alegre, alegre de que no sea cierto.
God. Sometimes I just want to go to Chile, like, now now now. Wanderlust is beginning to deceive me.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
EEEEEE.
I think I just got a job this summer at Girl Scout Camp in Vermont!!!!!!!!!!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
These people want to pay me to go and run around in the woods all summer!!! And go and much around with a bunch of crazy girls!!!!!!!!!! And foreign Russian counselors!!!
AHAHAHAHAHAH.
Peggy Happy. Peggy Very Happy.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
These people want to pay me to go and run around in the woods all summer!!! And go and much around with a bunch of crazy girls!!!!!!!!!! And foreign Russian counselors!!!
AHAHAHAHAHAH.
Peggy Happy. Peggy Very Happy.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Endorphins are the New Pink
Maybe, just maybe, catching my breath today. I'm just out from a mile+ pool morning, and the blood is running and the day is disgustingly beautiful and fickle. This is, what, day six of the "Lets keep Peggy sane by working out" campaign, and yea, it will destroy my body but oh god, feels soooooooo good. Then had a naked Russian conversation in the locker room with Ira, which made me incredibly happy, and for the first time in months my day doesn't seem quite so oppressive.
In an effort to keep up this facade of clarity and honesty and non-opaqueness, yes, finally heard from him, was weird as fuck, but yes, am relieved, at the very least. Patience is not my strong suit, I just want to fix the world now damnit, not sit back and wait for the explosion. But I am learning, sometimes the explosions are the best lessons. Regardless, not my call to make. So thank you, again, to every shoulder I've cried on, every unsuspecting soul I've snapped at, every half-way decent conversation I've ruined recently by dumping my own baggage on top of and squishing to death.
That whole lets take people as they are thing is still very nacent. I'm afraid I'll break first, and the old ways are just too easy, too ingrained. Its just so easy to slip back into those habits, wall off the world, and play happily in my own little sanitary hole. I keep telling myself, its more than worth it to learn to deal, learn to feel again, not fear emotion and drowning, and more than worth it now. I keep telling myself either things will be resolved, or I'll get used to it, its just a matter of which gets here first. And it will, so for now, I'm exploring, as sick as that sounds.
I really honestly do believe that everything happens for a reason. Not the whole slap-happy omnipotent omnicient predestination thing, but yea. We are meant to walk the path that we are on, and to see where it leads us. Maybe that is just the peace I make with a world that confuses and frightens, maybe it is my easy way out. But too many times I've found myself at a complete lost, and the only option is to follow my gut, and let instinct lead me to where I should be. Thats all you have left, when all of your comparisons fall away, when everything you know, everything you've learned, everything you've experienced, when everything very suddenly and cruely doesn't apply any more. I think that reliance on instinct is part of what I've been really missing back here in the States, part of the whole dependence thing that I find so stiffling. And its also what I fear the most, just letting go, stop logicalizing, stop thinking the world to death, and to trust in myself and my surroundings, or who I've chosen to surround me, that things will come out OK in the end. But maybe thats it, you have to sink before you let yourself float.
This is not the end, of the troubles, of the meltdowns, of the confusions. But I'd be worried if it were. I don't know what I'm doing, I haven't got it figured out, and I laugh at anyone who claims to know. Maybe laughing in itself is a step, two feet over envy at the very least.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
In an effort to keep up this facade of clarity and honesty and non-opaqueness, yes, finally heard from him, was weird as fuck, but yes, am relieved, at the very least. Patience is not my strong suit, I just want to fix the world now damnit, not sit back and wait for the explosion. But I am learning, sometimes the explosions are the best lessons. Regardless, not my call to make. So thank you, again, to every shoulder I've cried on, every unsuspecting soul I've snapped at, every half-way decent conversation I've ruined recently by dumping my own baggage on top of and squishing to death.
That whole lets take people as they are thing is still very nacent. I'm afraid I'll break first, and the old ways are just too easy, too ingrained. Its just so easy to slip back into those habits, wall off the world, and play happily in my own little sanitary hole. I keep telling myself, its more than worth it to learn to deal, learn to feel again, not fear emotion and drowning, and more than worth it now. I keep telling myself either things will be resolved, or I'll get used to it, its just a matter of which gets here first. And it will, so for now, I'm exploring, as sick as that sounds.
I really honestly do believe that everything happens for a reason. Not the whole slap-happy omnipotent omnicient predestination thing, but yea. We are meant to walk the path that we are on, and to see where it leads us. Maybe that is just the peace I make with a world that confuses and frightens, maybe it is my easy way out. But too many times I've found myself at a complete lost, and the only option is to follow my gut, and let instinct lead me to where I should be. Thats all you have left, when all of your comparisons fall away, when everything you know, everything you've learned, everything you've experienced, when everything very suddenly and cruely doesn't apply any more. I think that reliance on instinct is part of what I've been really missing back here in the States, part of the whole dependence thing that I find so stiffling. And its also what I fear the most, just letting go, stop logicalizing, stop thinking the world to death, and to trust in myself and my surroundings, or who I've chosen to surround me, that things will come out OK in the end. But maybe thats it, you have to sink before you let yourself float.
This is not the end, of the troubles, of the meltdowns, of the confusions. But I'd be worried if it were. I don't know what I'm doing, I haven't got it figured out, and I laugh at anyone who claims to know. Maybe laughing in itself is a step, two feet over envy at the very least.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Reminder.
(Anonymous)
2005-07-25 04:52 am UTC (link)
who is you ;-)? Sometimes I read your postings and really actually feel like all those times weve sat and philosophized, right now the night after backpacking talking on your back patio till 1 am in the dark...all i can say to you now is bravo. no, you're right, you're not cured. sometimes i think you never really are cured from a pivotal relationship...but maybe thats the beauty of it...would you really want to be over her in such a short time? Suprisingly ( or not) i do agree with you on the god concept. I believe things happen for a reason...not that things are predetermined, not that someone or something is dictating all of our actions, but just that if we live a purpose driven life, things all end up in the end...the question is just where..how...what the destination is. Sometimes it just takes longer to figure out what you're supposed to get out of the experience. Maybe thats just the peace i make with a life that is far to lonely and empty and spiritual and amazing and vital and interactive...that we are meant to be doing what we are doing. As for being happy with yourself, if thats true, bravo. Even just stating so is a step in the right direction...having that be somewhere on your radar, on your consciousness...Life is an act of making peace...with yourself, with the world, whatever, just as long as you dont concede and give up too much in the process. Remember, just because you're diving off in a new direction very soon doesn't mean you have to give up what you have here...(yea i know...haha coming from me, but hear me out). Too many times I've burned my bridges, just assuming that whomever was important to me would make the effort to stick by me...well guess what, when you take that attitude, the only person who looses is you. There is no need to resign yourself and be cut off unless you want to. Trust me on that one...
2005-07-25 04:52 am UTC (link)
who is you ;-)? Sometimes I read your postings and really actually feel like all those times weve sat and philosophized, right now the night after backpacking talking on your back patio till 1 am in the dark...all i can say to you now is bravo. no, you're right, you're not cured. sometimes i think you never really are cured from a pivotal relationship...but maybe thats the beauty of it...would you really want to be over her in such a short time? Suprisingly ( or not) i do agree with you on the god concept. I believe things happen for a reason...not that things are predetermined, not that someone or something is dictating all of our actions, but just that if we live a purpose driven life, things all end up in the end...the question is just where..how...what the destination is. Sometimes it just takes longer to figure out what you're supposed to get out of the experience. Maybe thats just the peace i make with a life that is far to lonely and empty and spiritual and amazing and vital and interactive...that we are meant to be doing what we are doing. As for being happy with yourself, if thats true, bravo. Even just stating so is a step in the right direction...having that be somewhere on your radar, on your consciousness...Life is an act of making peace...with yourself, with the world, whatever, just as long as you dont concede and give up too much in the process. Remember, just because you're diving off in a new direction very soon doesn't mean you have to give up what you have here...(yea i know...haha coming from me, but hear me out). Too many times I've burned my bridges, just assuming that whomever was important to me would make the effort to stick by me...well guess what, when you take that attitude, the only person who looses is you. There is no need to resign yourself and be cut off unless you want to. Trust me on that one...
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Give it to me.
You want a kick in the ass?
Here it is. This is all you're getting.
Fuck you. Fuck you for making me loose sleep over you. Fuck you for making me cry. I feel like I'm in fucking 8th grade. Fuck me for still worrying about you. Fuck life for being hard. And beautiful. Fuck passive agressiveness. Fuck me for not knowing what to do.
Fuck my phone for not ringing.
Here it is. This is all you're getting.
Fuck you. Fuck you for making me loose sleep over you. Fuck you for making me cry. I feel like I'm in fucking 8th grade. Fuck me for still worrying about you. Fuck life for being hard. And beautiful. Fuck passive agressiveness. Fuck me for not knowing what to do.
Fuck my phone for not ringing.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
AHAHAHAHAH. Its funny 'cause its true.
| |
excellent. thats the one.
peggy -- [noun]: A beat poet working the streets 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
eeh...
Peggy will have to write: |
I will not be distracted by passing butterflies |
'What will you have to write on the chalk board?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
Sunday, February 12, 2006
If any of y'all do the spanish thing...please for the love of all things holy edit this!!
Margaret Fulda
2006-02-05
Español 301
El Monstruo Volador de Espagueti
Hace mucho tiempo, cuando el mundo todavía era nuevo, nació el monstruo volador de espagueti. En ese momento, no había nadie que entendía lo que pasaba. No habían las montañas altas, ni los mares anchos, y no habían las llanuras que doblan y ondean como ondas de océano. Había solo una tierra muy desolada, era repleta de granos de arena que saltaban y bailaron con el viento. El cielo se atascaba en el estado perpetuo de gris, como si los espíritus estuvieron decidiendo hacer una tempestad ó no. No había nadie que el sol necesitaba entretener, entonces a menudo él no se levantó hasta el mediodía, o fue viajando a sus amigos, los planetas. Cuando el momento propicio se ocurrió, el sol estaba visitando al bebé Plutón, y entonces no vio con sus propios ojos la creación del gran monstruo.
El día comenzó con una explosión de colores. Los tonos esparcen a través de la oscuridad y un viento que se olía de trigo sopló violentamente. El aire llegó a ser grueso con el olor de levadura y electricidad. La atmósfera lentamente obtenía más y más gruesa, y por fin sola con un taponazo pequeño y una chispa débil, apareció un hilo solitario de pasta. El hilo era sucinto, no más largo que un brazo pequeño de niño. Este hilo se acostó por un rato, entonces empezó a retorcer como un pez en un gancho. Luego, el hilo empezó a dividirse. Todo el mundo en ese momento estaba quieto, salvo el viento que contenía la respiración, como si todas las criaturas por todo el mundo miraran la ocasión de gran importancia. Con un súper grande estallido de trueno, los hilos de pasta se reunieron. Las pastas todavía estaban acostándose, pero ya formaron una vez, una criatura. Los olores y el sentido de peso con cada minuto estaban aumentando, y los colores que estaban por el cielo también intensificaron. Entonces, los hilos pusieron a pies y empezaron a moverse. Pues ellos oscilaron juntos, y cuándo pararon, los pedazos de espaguetis habían formado a una persona.
Gradualmente, el monstruo ganaba su fuerza, y crecía al cuerpo. Cuándo terminó, era su grande mojada monstruoso tallarín, el medía 38 pies. Por fin, tenía doce apéndices tallarines que se undulan con ritmo cuando andaba, y una cabeza tanto grande cómo cien calabazas maduras. No podríamos discutir los ojos del monstruo, porque si los discutiríamos, tendríamos que comer nuestras narices para que no faltáramos de respeto al gran monstruo. Pero si miráramos con mucha atención, en sus ojos podemos ver la luna de noche. Cuándo el viene a ustedes, van a sentirse como se sienten en una nube, es porque tiene tanta fuerza que usted no puede controlar su mente. Los miembros no son exactamente sólidos, con demasiados pensamientos, el monstruo volador de espagueti se disuelve a una masa de pastas. Como era en el principio, así lo que continua, y el monstruo huele de de trigo y pan que hornea. La gente puede reconocer su presencia de estos olores. Pero, ahora todavía está temprano para asuntos espirituales. Antes de que los humanos puedan reconocer la grandeza del monstruo volador de espagueti, el debe que hacer todo en el mundo, y solo después de eso la gente podrían entender lo que sea.
Por un tiempo largo, el mundo descansó como desierto, como la tierra desolada. El monstruo pude hacer lo que complació. Después de un rato, el sol llegó a ser perezoso, no tenía nada otra que tuvo que hacer, y así empezó a subir. A causa de eso, el cielo también llegó a ser perezoso, y así decidió no tronar. La vida del monstruo llegó a ser fácil, y él también comenzó a ser perezoso y aburrido. Sus apéndices tallarines ondearon menos lento, y el olor de trigo era menos fuerte. También la luna en sus ojos era menos obvia, y no le gustaron todo de eso. Un día, los colores brillantes en el cielo se regresaron, y también se ocurrió el olor muy extraño y fuerte. También se ocurrió lo que ya pasó, cuándo el aire mucho espesaba. Después, sin cualquier fanfarria ni explosiones, se apareció una cordillera de montañas anchos, altas, y con nieve tan blanco como la arena abajo. En ese exacto momento, el monstruo empezó a volar. Sus apéndices dispersaron por todas direcciones, la arena se arremolinó, y lo siguió hasta las cimas de las montañas. El monstruo volador voló de la montaña a la montaña, y sus apéndices golpearon con felicidad. Cuándo por fin él volvió a la tierra, un árbol grande apareció de sus apéndices omnipotentes de tallarines. Eso árbol era tan grande como las montañas nuevas y altas. Luego, por supuesto sin descansarse, una otra gran y poderosa criatura fue desovada de los apéndices. Los apéndices retorcieron una vez, y entonces allí llegó a ser un hombre diminuto que paraba diminutamente alrededor del árbol grande. Ese enano era tan pequeño, que si usted lo miraba, no podría verlo. Usted me debe creer que él tiene un sombrero púrpura desenvuelto en la cabeza.
Después que la creación, el gran monstruo volador de espaguetis descansó. Su poder gradualmente aumenta, y el aire gradualmente espese. Hoy, quizás ustedes podrían oler un poco de trigo, quizás todavía está temprano. Pero estoy segura, que es nuestra responsabilidad esparcir el amor y santidad del monstruo volador de espagueti. Esa es la fuerza de su poderoso apéndice de tallarín.
2006-02-05
Español 301
El Monstruo Volador de Espagueti
Hace mucho tiempo, cuando el mundo todavía era nuevo, nació el monstruo volador de espagueti. En ese momento, no había nadie que entendía lo que pasaba. No habían las montañas altas, ni los mares anchos, y no habían las llanuras que doblan y ondean como ondas de océano. Había solo una tierra muy desolada, era repleta de granos de arena que saltaban y bailaron con el viento. El cielo se atascaba en el estado perpetuo de gris, como si los espíritus estuvieron decidiendo hacer una tempestad ó no. No había nadie que el sol necesitaba entretener, entonces a menudo él no se levantó hasta el mediodía, o fue viajando a sus amigos, los planetas. Cuando el momento propicio se ocurrió, el sol estaba visitando al bebé Plutón, y entonces no vio con sus propios ojos la creación del gran monstruo.
El día comenzó con una explosión de colores. Los tonos esparcen a través de la oscuridad y un viento que se olía de trigo sopló violentamente. El aire llegó a ser grueso con el olor de levadura y electricidad. La atmósfera lentamente obtenía más y más gruesa, y por fin sola con un taponazo pequeño y una chispa débil, apareció un hilo solitario de pasta. El hilo era sucinto, no más largo que un brazo pequeño de niño. Este hilo se acostó por un rato, entonces empezó a retorcer como un pez en un gancho. Luego, el hilo empezó a dividirse. Todo el mundo en ese momento estaba quieto, salvo el viento que contenía la respiración, como si todas las criaturas por todo el mundo miraran la ocasión de gran importancia. Con un súper grande estallido de trueno, los hilos de pasta se reunieron. Las pastas todavía estaban acostándose, pero ya formaron una vez, una criatura. Los olores y el sentido de peso con cada minuto estaban aumentando, y los colores que estaban por el cielo también intensificaron. Entonces, los hilos pusieron a pies y empezaron a moverse. Pues ellos oscilaron juntos, y cuándo pararon, los pedazos de espaguetis habían formado a una persona.
Gradualmente, el monstruo ganaba su fuerza, y crecía al cuerpo. Cuándo terminó, era su grande mojada monstruoso tallarín, el medía 38 pies. Por fin, tenía doce apéndices tallarines que se undulan con ritmo cuando andaba, y una cabeza tanto grande cómo cien calabazas maduras. No podríamos discutir los ojos del monstruo, porque si los discutiríamos, tendríamos que comer nuestras narices para que no faltáramos de respeto al gran monstruo. Pero si miráramos con mucha atención, en sus ojos podemos ver la luna de noche. Cuándo el viene a ustedes, van a sentirse como se sienten en una nube, es porque tiene tanta fuerza que usted no puede controlar su mente. Los miembros no son exactamente sólidos, con demasiados pensamientos, el monstruo volador de espagueti se disuelve a una masa de pastas. Como era en el principio, así lo que continua, y el monstruo huele de de trigo y pan que hornea. La gente puede reconocer su presencia de estos olores. Pero, ahora todavía está temprano para asuntos espirituales. Antes de que los humanos puedan reconocer la grandeza del monstruo volador de espagueti, el debe que hacer todo en el mundo, y solo después de eso la gente podrían entender lo que sea.
Por un tiempo largo, el mundo descansó como desierto, como la tierra desolada. El monstruo pude hacer lo que complació. Después de un rato, el sol llegó a ser perezoso, no tenía nada otra que tuvo que hacer, y así empezó a subir. A causa de eso, el cielo también llegó a ser perezoso, y así decidió no tronar. La vida del monstruo llegó a ser fácil, y él también comenzó a ser perezoso y aburrido. Sus apéndices tallarines ondearon menos lento, y el olor de trigo era menos fuerte. También la luna en sus ojos era menos obvia, y no le gustaron todo de eso. Un día, los colores brillantes en el cielo se regresaron, y también se ocurrió el olor muy extraño y fuerte. También se ocurrió lo que ya pasó, cuándo el aire mucho espesaba. Después, sin cualquier fanfarria ni explosiones, se apareció una cordillera de montañas anchos, altas, y con nieve tan blanco como la arena abajo. En ese exacto momento, el monstruo empezó a volar. Sus apéndices dispersaron por todas direcciones, la arena se arremolinó, y lo siguió hasta las cimas de las montañas. El monstruo volador voló de la montaña a la montaña, y sus apéndices golpearon con felicidad. Cuándo por fin él volvió a la tierra, un árbol grande apareció de sus apéndices omnipotentes de tallarines. Eso árbol era tan grande como las montañas nuevas y altas. Luego, por supuesto sin descansarse, una otra gran y poderosa criatura fue desovada de los apéndices. Los apéndices retorcieron una vez, y entonces allí llegó a ser un hombre diminuto que paraba diminutamente alrededor del árbol grande. Ese enano era tan pequeño, que si usted lo miraba, no podría verlo. Usted me debe creer que él tiene un sombrero púrpura desenvuelto en la cabeza.
Después que la creación, el gran monstruo volador de espaguetis descansó. Su poder gradualmente aumenta, y el aire gradualmente espese. Hoy, quizás ustedes podrían oler un poco de trigo, quizás todavía está temprano. Pero estoy segura, que es nuestra responsabilidad esparcir el amor y santidad del monstruo volador de espagueti. Esa es la fuerza de su poderoso apéndice de tallarín.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Engage. Now. Or alternatively, how I didn't jump his bones.
Forwarning, I'm spinning, and stream of conciousness and I don't have a particularly positive rapore of late. But there are things that need to be said, things that need to learn how to be said, things I need to wise up and deal with and learn how to say. This week, these weeks have been wrenching, like a washrag hung drip dry and then strung end to end, just to make sure everything that was there will wash away across the sidewalk, mixing with dust. Its funny, I didn't actually realize the absurdity of my actions, that I was in friggin' RUSSIA less than 2 months ago, and galavanting across the universe not even a month ago, Isreal to be exact-er. And then it hit me, school is scary, life is scary, staying still in one place is scary, being is scary. And hard, and turmoil, and gut wrenching, and beautiful, and wet. But most of all wet. I have not been stationary, static, relaxed, just not on guard, in far too long. Then I remember why, because staying put, staying still, means engaging, means slowing down for long enough to see the world as it buzzes by. It means sitting in the rain, in the dark, for five nights in a row in split screen, watching the you that you've been so long be confronted and destroyed. I've had it coming, for more than a while now, but borrowed time can only last so long, before it stretches and breaks, and there you are, alone on your ass.
Most of all, I didn't expect to miss you when you left. I expected relief, craved relief, thought finally, after so many years of expectation, maybe finally I'd be able to breath again. You came, an aberration, an anomale, and yes, in your wisdom, an overblown out of proportion dream of lonely nights. You left, today, in all your shaggy glory, a greater part of my life than when you blew in. You are simplicity on acid, you defy my logic, my expectations, my desires. I am more than definitly not over you, but if I were, this wouldn't matter so much, this entire process wouldn't have been so gut wrenching, because the stakes wouldn't have been so damn high. I wanted to hate you, wanted to find my small and itching reasons to have you gone...and I failed. You are my normal. You take me at my worst, you take me at my best, you take me when I am poking and prodding you and making you cry. You have to know, how much it burned that night, watching me destroy you, and knowing that I couldn't come over and put my arms around you and make the world go away. And then, lying on my floor, staring at the ceiling, and feeling your breath and the wind howl, I think somewhere in there I let go. You won't buy this, I know, I can hear you already, chuckling slyly. But its true, I lay there and listened to the rain pound, and felt you with your arms around me, and I realized that its time to learn to enjoy you, to take you for everything you have given to me, take every recollection, every awkard moment, every shy sadness, every hysterical fit of laughter, every time I ran to you, every endless conversation, every hellish daydream, every consolation, every extasy, every joy. I hope you know how much you mean to me...how much deep love and affection I have for you. I hope you know that I meant every word that was said. I hope you know that I will never let you fall through, that I will be around to kick your ass, and I take that very seriously. I hope you know that you are loved.
But darlin', if you ever pull this shit on me again, if you every put me through another week like this one, I will kill you. Know that, too.
The thing that sucks the most about finally having to deal with a small part of yourself, which you have, however unsuccesfully, shelled off from the world for quite some time, is how surreal everything feels. This attraction, this addiction, has been such a lingering persistance for so long now, I expect it to still be buzzing around like a bee, so much so that I almost miss the noise. Almost.
I definitly did not expect to regain some emotional stability out of the hell that has been this week, in fact, I'm not quite sure where this is coming from, but I'll go with it. I just got back from some more bonding time in the appartments, just sitting, talking, being, and for the first time in quite some time I could look around and respect being here, realize being here. Maybe this week shook me just enough to open up again, to expose myself again, that whole fear of vulnerability, violent, petulant, iron gripped. Fear for me is again the duality of life-- the impetus to wall myself off, and the need and motivation to fix it, to look within myself and make some changes. Woman, again you give me the ground under my feet, or remind me where to look.
And now, back on my feet again, there are some changes to be made. I have spent the first three weeks of the semester revelling in feeling out of place, and again out of control. I was that same muffled, shellshocked, creature that I yelled at you for being. I think Amy was more right then I ever wanted to give her credit for, we get very used to our habits of being. Be it depressed, busy, exhausted, enraptured, we learn these behaviors, and thus changing becomes not only the act of changing your mind, but also changing your habits. I can't be that person again, the one that swallowed me whole last year, I can't, and I refuse to be. And that person is exactly the one that I'm recreating for myself back here finally, but I can't do it again. I can't do 21 credits, tutoring, music, working 12-15 hours a week, and mantain any sort of peace. No matter how much I'd like to bury myself in the sand, to craft myself a life here bereft of any and all chance to be with myself, by myself, in my mind, I can't. I won't. So, within a few days, hopefully (unless I loose my nerve...) I'll suck it up and drop music theory, what a revelation, and for the first time in my college carreer only carry 17 credits. Engaging in my world right now means accepting the fact that I don't anymore want to be a music major/minor, and keeping up the facade is really just by force of habit, and that is stupid. Music will be a part of me and will be in my life because it is like breathing, not because I have my name on a piece of paper. Old dreams die slowly, but its time.
Enough.
Most of all, I didn't expect to miss you when you left. I expected relief, craved relief, thought finally, after so many years of expectation, maybe finally I'd be able to breath again. You came, an aberration, an anomale, and yes, in your wisdom, an overblown out of proportion dream of lonely nights. You left, today, in all your shaggy glory, a greater part of my life than when you blew in. You are simplicity on acid, you defy my logic, my expectations, my desires. I am more than definitly not over you, but if I were, this wouldn't matter so much, this entire process wouldn't have been so gut wrenching, because the stakes wouldn't have been so damn high. I wanted to hate you, wanted to find my small and itching reasons to have you gone...and I failed. You are my normal. You take me at my worst, you take me at my best, you take me when I am poking and prodding you and making you cry. You have to know, how much it burned that night, watching me destroy you, and knowing that I couldn't come over and put my arms around you and make the world go away. And then, lying on my floor, staring at the ceiling, and feeling your breath and the wind howl, I think somewhere in there I let go. You won't buy this, I know, I can hear you already, chuckling slyly. But its true, I lay there and listened to the rain pound, and felt you with your arms around me, and I realized that its time to learn to enjoy you, to take you for everything you have given to me, take every recollection, every awkard moment, every shy sadness, every hysterical fit of laughter, every time I ran to you, every endless conversation, every hellish daydream, every consolation, every extasy, every joy. I hope you know how much you mean to me...how much deep love and affection I have for you. I hope you know that I meant every word that was said. I hope you know that I will never let you fall through, that I will be around to kick your ass, and I take that very seriously. I hope you know that you are loved.
But darlin', if you ever pull this shit on me again, if you every put me through another week like this one, I will kill you. Know that, too.
The thing that sucks the most about finally having to deal with a small part of yourself, which you have, however unsuccesfully, shelled off from the world for quite some time, is how surreal everything feels. This attraction, this addiction, has been such a lingering persistance for so long now, I expect it to still be buzzing around like a bee, so much so that I almost miss the noise. Almost.
I definitly did not expect to regain some emotional stability out of the hell that has been this week, in fact, I'm not quite sure where this is coming from, but I'll go with it. I just got back from some more bonding time in the appartments, just sitting, talking, being, and for the first time in quite some time I could look around and respect being here, realize being here. Maybe this week shook me just enough to open up again, to expose myself again, that whole fear of vulnerability, violent, petulant, iron gripped. Fear for me is again the duality of life-- the impetus to wall myself off, and the need and motivation to fix it, to look within myself and make some changes. Woman, again you give me the ground under my feet, or remind me where to look.
And now, back on my feet again, there are some changes to be made. I have spent the first three weeks of the semester revelling in feeling out of place, and again out of control. I was that same muffled, shellshocked, creature that I yelled at you for being. I think Amy was more right then I ever wanted to give her credit for, we get very used to our habits of being. Be it depressed, busy, exhausted, enraptured, we learn these behaviors, and thus changing becomes not only the act of changing your mind, but also changing your habits. I can't be that person again, the one that swallowed me whole last year, I can't, and I refuse to be. And that person is exactly the one that I'm recreating for myself back here finally, but I can't do it again. I can't do 21 credits, tutoring, music, working 12-15 hours a week, and mantain any sort of peace. No matter how much I'd like to bury myself in the sand, to craft myself a life here bereft of any and all chance to be with myself, by myself, in my mind, I can't. I won't. So, within a few days, hopefully (unless I loose my nerve...) I'll suck it up and drop music theory, what a revelation, and for the first time in my college carreer only carry 17 credits. Engaging in my world right now means accepting the fact that I don't anymore want to be a music major/minor, and keeping up the facade is really just by force of habit, and that is stupid. Music will be a part of me and will be in my life because it is like breathing, not because I have my name on a piece of paper. Old dreams die slowly, but its time.
Enough.
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