Currently Clouds By Joni Mitchell see related

a mite overwhelmed

Grad school decisions recommendations personal statements transcripts application fees short on time

Automobile decisions repair trade in finances short on time

Working editing making gifts housework slipping slipped social life tenuous trying unbalanced

Residency decisions car taxes permanent address permits and short on time

Bureaucracy frustrations

Missing him away loneliness desires and short on time

Even sentences are too much

Sometimes I just stop

Wanted

Seeking: music and people without sharp edges. Tonight, I am all made of nerve endings.

Currently Roswell: Season 2 By Jason Behr see related

Love-Cracked Nut, Incarnate

These feelings come as the residue of a dream... though I'm now awake, they lie in a part of my consciousness, gazing out at me -- through me -- with their harlequin eyes. Self-examining, other-examining, neither intimate nor remote, they evade entanglements with rational questions and answers. Perhaps they are influenced by the things I have been watching, by a pattern of clarity-confusion that oft repeats when I visit home, by the recent reemergence of people I used to love... but they also contain a seeming consciousness unto themselves, independent of me, my thoughts, or my desires.

Love... the appropriate metaphors are not what come, but rather: love is a nutcracker, and you're a nut to be in it. Like someone tied to the tracks, you've struggled, lost, grieved, and accepted; now, you relax your muscles and watch with disinterest the train as it comes. Was this how it was meant to be? I have lived the analogies multiple times, died on the tracks to wake up in a traincar. Who does it please that it should be so? 

In part, I envy those who have loved once, those who have never died and seen themselves come back just a little different. I don't believe in literal reincarnation, like dying and coming back as a cow, but at times it feels as though I am a reincarnation of my former selves; the eyes looking out on the landscape are not the same as those into which you, or he, looked years ago. And so, I have come to understand, as useless as it is to compare dissimilar objects in this, it's more so for dissimilar people.

But I fell in love again; I broke myself again and lost a few of the pieces; I came a little more awake. I don't know how long or how many times the cycle goes. The train moves on, and though I fear it may derail or crash altogether, crushing me or sending me maimed into the next, I keep riding it. I want to see where it goes. How it all ends.

Currently Where the Wild Things Are [Theatrical Release] By Forest Whitaker, Catherine Keener see related

More Things I Like

I like lists. However, I don't like the kinds of things where people define who they are primarily by what they don't like; thus, to give you more insight (uh, that's questionable) into me, you get specifically some of my "likes." It's more than you'll want to know, I'm sure, but I'm not quite over this whole egocentric "it's my birthday weekend" thing.

• cranberries -- cranberry juice, fresh cranberries with honey on them, cranberry sauce, dried cranberries (preferably not too sweetened).
• Autumn -- I adore this season.
• being able to do really good push-ups. Also, being sore after a good workout.
• getting a new CD or album on vinyl from a favourite artist.
• poetry books; if they're good, I'll read them over and over, more than I would prose.
• (not that I do it often, but) cooking for people -- a proper, balanced meal, not just mac 'n' cheese.
• colored pens, gel pens (more the G-2 variety than the sparkly, high-school kind), and fountain pens.
• using a typewriter instead of a computer now and again.
• writing letters by hand and mailing them. Also, getting letters in the mail.
• getting packages from Amazon.
• dishwashers, specifically mine.
• art supplies -- having them, using them, and even just being around them -- making art supply stores a dangerous place to take me.
• coupons for free food, due to my birthday, that are good for a week or two after the day itself. Especially 'cause a big restaurant meal, with all the sides and stuff, is generally two or even three meals for me.
• my bed; it's a Sealy, and it's divine.
• men -- no joke. I like their brains -- what glimpses I've got -- and not in a zombie kind of way. When I read A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis, I was really struck by his longing for the "otherness" of H. That "otherness" of men is something I enjoy. I like that some are hairy and sweaty, that some are focused (single-minded) and passionate, that some are gentle and emotional, that some are articulate and erudite -- and that some aren't, and some are all of those things (those tend to be my favourites ); again, it's that otherness. Don't worry, women, I like us, too. I'm just sayin', I have a special affinity for the fellas....
• flannel; I suppose for me it comes from being a lil' bit rural and doing a bit of growing up in the 90s. I'm surprised to see it's back "in."
• black-brown eyeliner: the only makeup I wear regularly.
• Settlers of Catan and its various expansions. I don't know if I've ever liked a board game this much.
• sell-by dates, which sometimes allow me to purchase perfectly good food for much cheaper (especially organic milk, yay!).
• Magnetic Poetry.
• having a blog name for my man, the Man Who Is Away.
• the current temperature in my apartment: 60°F (according to the thermostat), thus, I don't overheat the second I step in the door or when I'm sleeping, and I can wear a couple layers with comfort.
• seeing my parents' faces light up when I've given them a gift they really love, not just appreciate. It really sticks with me.
• sidewalk chalk.

Well, uh... thanks for your attention, and good night.

Seeing Only As You Want To See

Someone who saw me perform yesterday evening sent me a message via the ol’ Interwebs, complimenting the performance and my originality – but he also said something that bothered me. He commented that he saw a tear over “the good guy” I sang about breaking up with in one of my songs. I puzzled over it for a second – where had he gotten that idea? The song is classic “it’s not you, it’s me,” but a bit more like “you’re a good guy, but too nice / I guess there’s such a thing as too nice / once again, it seems that I’m the jerk… don’t blame yourself – my restless spirit / is to be blamed, and if you’ll hear it / I’ve got apologies, but not much else” (actually, it’s exactly like that, ’cause those are some of the lyrics). If anything, I sing it with a bit of a sardonic tone and a shrug, as if to say, “This sucks, but oh well…” and that’s the attitude with which I introduced the song (something like, “This song is about dumping somebody, and feeling like a jerk about it, but doing it anyway”).

Then I realized that the guy who was listening merely saw what he wanted to see: a little sadness over losing the "good guy," which is simply not how I feel about it. (He was, by the classic definitions, a good guy, but not right for me. I knew it well before I broke up with him. I had it über-confirmed recently when he implied that Obama supporters are merely “mindless drones,” and I quote. What’s the appropriate rational response to such an argument? “Well, you’re a doodyhead?” Where’s the friggin’ respect? But, back to what I was saying....)

Anyway, the point is that this casual, first-time observer of my music was kind and complimentary, but he also missed the mark (especially since he mentioned it to me as though he’d caught onto something special there), because he saw what he wanted to see instead of what was there.

As much as that small incident grates on my artistic sensibilities like they were made of cheese, I realize it’s probably an honest enough little mistake – and a common one, at that. How often do we enter interactions with blinders on, seeing only what we want to see and completely ignoring the whole field of vision? Plenty, sure. We do it with the past, too, with memories, and with the future in our imaginations. That ex-boyfriend did it with the comment about “mindless drones,” and it seems in politics this is the easy way out that so many people take, it’s almost impossible to have reasonable, logical discussions on topics… especially when plenty of politicians and pundits find it in their best interests to convince everyone right and wrong approaches only exist in polarities, and any kind of “middle way” is for sissies, the mentally inept, the wishy-washy, the sheep, and of course, the neo-Marxists in disguise.

“I just can’t see how anybody can think _______.” I hate this statement, in its various forms (“I just can’t see how any smart person could vote for Obama;” “I can’t see how any Christian could support Obama;” “I just can’t see how anyone could be pro-choice;” “I just can’t see how anyone could be anti-choice;” et-freakin’-cetera). The statement is meant to point out the utter departure from sanity of those who hold the other side’s viewpoint, but the flaw lies in the sight of the speaker. My response, “Then open your eyes,” may seem passé, but it is the only way to start when the speaker’s eyes are closed. The vast, overwhelming majority of the time, there is something there to see, if that speaker would look for it. Seeing the possible rationality of an opposing viewpoint (or even a “middle way” viewpoint) doesn’t automatically invalidate one’s thoughts on the topic, as seems to be the fear behind the “I can’t see it.” Is the fear of being proven wrong so strong that it is greater than the desire for truth and honesty? Acknowledgement that there is something to see should not be viewed as a threat, but as an opportunity to grow in understanding; even if one is not swayed at all, at least then the speaker can say, “I see your point, but I disagree, and here’s why.” Then, finally, reasons have a chance to be presented, and we can make some progress on these topics.

You see, the problem is that the impacts are not confined to the theoretical; unfortunately, these honest, little mistakes have real, life-sized consequences. None of us lives in a vacuum, where seeing only what we want to see affects nothing and no one around us. Though it might not rise out of malicious intent, not seeing often does the same kind of damage as malicious intent. Not seeing has allowed us to do significant damage to the environment of which we are a part, the world that sustains us, our health – and to go on without ever seeing is to commit suicide out of ignorance. Not seeing has allowed otherwise seemingly decent people to oppress and deprive their fellow men, women, and children. Not seeing has perpetuated unhealthy lifestyles, the kinds that keep my friend the social worker as well as my friend the confinement officer at the county jail quite busy. Not seeing may allow a person to chuckle at calling those of the opposing viewpoint “mindless drones,” but at what cost? At what cost does the current political “debate” come to us, where reason is subjugated to whoever’s got the best set of pipes to yell the loudest and longest?

I don’t mean financial cost, though that will certainly be affected. The cost to ourselves, to the dignity of our minds, our understanding, our compassion – the cost to quality – is what we don’t see, when the only focus is narrowly defined to a small, preconceived field of vision. That kind of distorted vision wins the battle but loses the war because of what it can’t even conceive.