A little late for the new year post, but nonetheless... here it is.
I am going to write again.
1. because I am tired of composing thoughts in my head in the form of letters
2.because even if no one reads it, there's always the possibility
3.because any excuse for procrastination is a good one
4.because I want to
My resolutions for the new year: one. sort of.
*no more resolutions. just change.
I'm sure I heard that somewhere else, but I loved it.
Last year's resolution still stands:
*make a decision. and live with it.
I have woken up everyday this new year with a smile.
I smile because I know that although I haven't the slightest clue what today or tomorrow, or especially next year will bring, I do know that I am up to the challenge.
I am already making mistakes, but I am loving each one.
What's college life without the awkward, the funny, the shocking, the awesome? And what kind of woman, human, would I be, if not flawed?
The imperfections are the things in my life I have grown to love the most...the imperfections have always marked the human moments: those human interactions between people that let us know that we are all on the same level... a smile between mother and daughter after a fight, a nudge between friends after a good cry, the nod from an ex- once the anger and hurt has faded, the morning hugs from our coffee friends... Some of these moments are the most precious, even when I've had the most successful of days.
And now for this year's markers...and they are great...
1 day... tomorrow.
2 weeks...first draft of personal research paper
1 month...22 years old
2 months...my very last spring break
3 months...the announcement of the Fulbright scholars (crossing fingers)
4 months...present my independent research to my professors and peers
5 months... graduation
beyond...endless possibility
Five months is the extent to which I can comprehend the rest of my life.
So today I am beginning the narration of the journey, what many will call "the beginning of the end", but what I would simply call my extended tomorrow.
2009 was a year of risks--some for the best and some for the worst. I found a couple of metaphorical jackpots, and I managed to fall a bit hard a few times as well. The progress I made as a person, however, is nearly unimaginable.
2009 was the year I figured out what was at stake in finding what is essentially Sara.
Since I can only imagine it will continue to get better, even when the times are slow and tough, I find more reason to celebrate the new year than to dread it. Graduation brings the foreboding question "what's next?" and the consequent answer "who knows."
For now, I will just breathe and smile. It's been going well for me so far this year.
I'll let you know a bit more this time around...
If I had the lyrics I would post this song, because it essentially screams the things I would love to say. Look it up, and enjoy.
Rey Fresco "Precious Time" from the album The People
"Wake up in the morning dew
open up your eyes: Sunshine
Ain't no easy way out so stop
you're wasting your time
play that beat my friend
...
Cause all we need got is precious time
All we've got is precious time
...Mamas, sisters, brothers papas,
I hope that you're all doing well
I hope that you are doing well
Because all we've got is precious time
All we've got is this precious time
Are we gonna see each other again tomorrow?
Are we gonna speak them sweet tones tomorrow?
I'm gonna have my shake and my sorrows...
...'cause all we've got is precious time..."
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Thursday, May 28, 2009
I'll never grow up
I started reading The Little Prince, again.
It's one of those stories that never seems to get old.
I really should be doing my homework and writing papers due next week... but sometimes I just can't keep grinding out the work. There comes a point each term where I'm not really taking things in anymore. I'm just doing things because they need to be done. It's just the way we do things, sometimes. I hate to admit it, but it's the truth.
Each year the pressure seems to build a little more, and it seems as if more is expected of me and the work I do...and then the work load becomes ever heavier and harder. And then I can't seem to keep tabs on my social life. And then I forget to live because I do the grown up thing, so eloquently pointed out by the little prince, and so unfortunately repeated by me: I focus on the statistics rather than the things that truly matter. The numbers become more important than the things and people they represent. The classes become a scramble for the 4.0... and the work becomes a mindless aim to target exactly what it is that my professors want to see. Reading a novel for essay points is something I never thought I would do...and never realized I was doing (until now).
So tonight, I am taking the night off. Yes, I mean it--I am not doing my homework. Instead I am listening to music I love and reading The Little Prince, who is reminding me that companions and sheep are everything. Success will come when I'm reading the novel for meaning rather than for an essay.
I want to grow up and enjoy my life as it goes on, but not the way I have been lately. I want to relish in my mistakes rather than compartmentalize them. I would rather feel pain and disappointment than the apathy I've let creep in. I don't want to wake up and realize that I don't see and feel things the way I did as a kid.
Summer camp will keep me young all summer long, but I've got to learn to keep it all year round.
Obwohl ich verbrochen wurde, versammle ich mich wieder.
Nacht, Leute.
It's one of those stories that never seems to get old.
I really should be doing my homework and writing papers due next week... but sometimes I just can't keep grinding out the work. There comes a point each term where I'm not really taking things in anymore. I'm just doing things because they need to be done. It's just the way we do things, sometimes. I hate to admit it, but it's the truth.
Each year the pressure seems to build a little more, and it seems as if more is expected of me and the work I do...and then the work load becomes ever heavier and harder. And then I can't seem to keep tabs on my social life. And then I forget to live because I do the grown up thing, so eloquently pointed out by the little prince, and so unfortunately repeated by me: I focus on the statistics rather than the things that truly matter. The numbers become more important than the things and people they represent. The classes become a scramble for the 4.0... and the work becomes a mindless aim to target exactly what it is that my professors want to see. Reading a novel for essay points is something I never thought I would do...and never realized I was doing (until now).
So tonight, I am taking the night off. Yes, I mean it--I am not doing my homework. Instead I am listening to music I love and reading The Little Prince, who is reminding me that companions and sheep are everything. Success will come when I'm reading the novel for meaning rather than for an essay.
I want to grow up and enjoy my life as it goes on, but not the way I have been lately. I want to relish in my mistakes rather than compartmentalize them. I would rather feel pain and disappointment than the apathy I've let creep in. I don't want to wake up and realize that I don't see and feel things the way I did as a kid.
Summer camp will keep me young all summer long, but I've got to learn to keep it all year round.
Obwohl ich verbrochen wurde, versammle ich mich wieder.
Nacht, Leute.
Monday, May 25, 2009
A Comet Appears
Song for the day:
A Comet Appears by The Shins.
This song was stuck on repeat today. And by stuck, I mean I put it on repeat after actually listening for the first time. Sometimes it takes the right moment to listen to a song and really hear it...
This one is completely mesmorizing. The lyrics are intelligent--puns and references to culture and intellectuals such as Nietzsche (ubermen=uebermensch)... The refrain is haunting and lovely at the same time, and the chords and instruments used are interesting each time through the song.
A Comet Appears lyrics
One hand on this wily comet,
Take a drink just to give me some weight,
Some uber-man I'd make,
I'm barely a vapor
They shone a chlorine light on,
A host of individual sins,
Let's carve my aging face off,
Fetch us a knife,
Start with my eyes,
Down so the lines,
Form a grimacing smile,
Close your eyes corral a virtue,
Is this fooling anyone else?
Never worked so long and hard,
To cement a failure,
We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
But the lonely are such delicate things,
The wind from a wasp could blow them,
Into the sea,
With stones on their feet,
Lost to the light and the loving we need,
Still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing,
With burnt sage and a forest of bygones,
I click my heels,
Get the devils in line,
A list of things I could lay the blame on,
Might give me a way out,
But with each turn,
It's this front and center,
Like a dart stuck square in your eye,
Every post you can hitch your faith on,
Is a pie in the sky,
Chock full of lies,
A tool we devise,
To make sinking stones fly,
And still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing.
One good song can remind us that music has the ability to transcend the normal scope of human emotions and interactions. And sometimes it's the hundreth time we hear a song before we really hear it. I will never believe that there's such a thing as "just a song." This one is worth another listen, if you ask me.
A Comet Appears by The Shins.
This song was stuck on repeat today. And by stuck, I mean I put it on repeat after actually listening for the first time. Sometimes it takes the right moment to listen to a song and really hear it...
This one is completely mesmorizing. The lyrics are intelligent--puns and references to culture and intellectuals such as Nietzsche (ubermen=uebermensch)... The refrain is haunting and lovely at the same time, and the chords and instruments used are interesting each time through the song.
A Comet Appears lyrics
One hand on this wily comet,
Take a drink just to give me some weight,
Some uber-man I'd make,
I'm barely a vapor
They shone a chlorine light on,
A host of individual sins,
Let's carve my aging face off,
Fetch us a knife,
Start with my eyes,
Down so the lines,
Form a grimacing smile,
Close your eyes corral a virtue,
Is this fooling anyone else?
Never worked so long and hard,
To cement a failure,
We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
But the lonely are such delicate things,
The wind from a wasp could blow them,
Into the sea,
With stones on their feet,
Lost to the light and the loving we need,
Still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing,
With burnt sage and a forest of bygones,
I click my heels,
Get the devils in line,
A list of things I could lay the blame on,
Might give me a way out,
But with each turn,
It's this front and center,
Like a dart stuck square in your eye,
Every post you can hitch your faith on,
Is a pie in the sky,
Chock full of lies,
A tool we devise,
To make sinking stones fly,
And still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing.
One good song can remind us that music has the ability to transcend the normal scope of human emotions and interactions. And sometimes it's the hundreth time we hear a song before we really hear it. I will never believe that there's such a thing as "just a song." This one is worth another listen, if you ask me.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Who are you, lovely lady?
"Lady with Hat and Feather Boa"
Gustav Klimt
There's a certain mystery to nearly any woman in any painting. I don't know whether it's simply a matter of trying to capture life on canvas, or the nature of the subject itself that renders such mystery and lends itself to unending curiosity.
When I look at her, I can't help but wonder. Who is she? Where is she? Where is she going? What is she doing? At what is she looking?
No matter who or what she is, though, I still want to be her. She's lovely, and will be forever perfect, thanks to Klimt...
Whoever this woman is, she's immortalized in this painting.
And we can all say, "wouldn't it be nice?" and think about the possibilities when we don't know the truth. We get to invent and dream because for us, the reality doesn't exist. In fiction and paintings we can dream...
But when we discover the reality, we probably no longer want to be the subject of the lovely paintings. When we see things for what they really are, there's no more room to hope.
Which is better? The possibility of a lie or a truth that kills our dreams?
All I know is that I want to look at this painting beyond the composition and layout...and see the woman...and I want to wonder. I want her mystery to remain, because isn't that wherein most of the beauty lies, anyway?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Wolken oder Watte?
English speakers, my apologies. This is not for you. It's for me, and tonight I need to write auf Deutsch.
Wenn ich spazieren gehe, spreche ich (sehr ruhig) und denke ich auf Deutsch.
Manchmal sehe ich gar nichts, was wichtig ist...und manchmal denke ich ueber tiefe, wichtige Sachen. Aber immer fuehle ich mich besser, weil es auf Deutsch ist.
Warum kann deutsche Gedanken meiner Ansicht wechseln? Ich weiss genau nicht. Aber ich denke, dass wenn ich auf Deutsch denke, fuehle ich mich wie ich eine andere Person bin.
Wer, denn? Noch ein mal, weiss ich nicht.
Aber ich fuehle anders. Nur anders kann ich sagen. Ich fuehle mich nicht wie die schlimme Sara, die immer verwirrt, immer gekraenkt, immer schwach und traurig ist... Ich denke, dass ich eigentlich stark bin, wenn ich auf Deutsch denke. Vielleicht weil Deutsch ist etwas, was ich fuer nur mich gelernt habe. Ich habe nach Deutschland geflogen und da gewohnt ohne Hilfe. Ich war doch brav. Und wenn ich auf Deutsch denke, fuehle ich wie die Sara, die da war.
Also bin ich nicht die gleiche Sara? Hab ich etwas da verloren? Kommt es zurueck-das was ich verloren habe? Oder ist es staendig weg?
Bitte, Sara, finde es! bitte, bitte.
Und jetzt komme ich zu das, was wirklich mir Leid tut: Einsamkeit.
Nicht weil ich in keine Beziehung bist. Und nicht weil ich allein zu sein hass.
Es ist weil ich keine echte Freunde HIER habe. Die Freunde, die ich habe, haben nichts gemeinsam mit mir. Wir haben in andere Richtungen gegangen. Sie alle sind in eine Sorority zusmammen...und wenn nicht...singen sie alle in "the con." Ich bin nicht in the conservatory und ich will kein Sorority Frau sein. Sie sprechen nur ueber diese Sachen...und wenn sie das tun, habe ich nichts zu sagen. Ich warte auf sie nicht mehr. Ich esse mit ihr nicht mehr. Ich fahre irgendwo ohne sie. Ich spaziere allein. Alles, was ich jetzt tue, ist allein. Manchmal ist das besser. Manchmal liebe ich die Ruhe. Manchmal liebe ich, dass ich Leute-anschauen kann. Manchmal ist es total gut, dass ich meine Hausaufgabe in ruhe machen kann.
Aber manchmal brauche ich jemand mit dem ich lachen kann. Manchmal brauche ich nur eine Umarmung. Manchmal brauche ich jemand...nur fuer einen Moment... aber wenn man etwas brauchst, braucht jemand dieses Etwas ganz schnell and ganz genau.
Die Familie kann diese Leerheit nicht fuellen.
Ich kann es nicht aendern, dass ich alles so tief fuehle. Aber ich will es nicht aendern. Am wenigstens fuehle ich...und ich denke, dass es besser ist, als jemand der nichts fuehlt.
Das muss ich glauben. Glaub mich. Du! du nichts fuehlst. Hoer mich. Ich fuehle mich wie ich mich fuehle, und dass kann ich tue. Niemand kann es halten. Versuch nicht. Lies oder Geh.
"Ich sehe, wie Jakobs Mund breiter wird, er sagt: 'Nicht ganz. Sie wuenschte sich eine Wolke. Der Witz ist, dass sie dachte, Wolken sind aus Watte, und nur deswegen war sie mit der Watte zufrieden.'
Lina sieht eine Weile hinaus, mir will scheinen verwundert, bevor sie ihn fragt: 'Aber sind denn Wolken nicht aus Watte?'"
-Jurek Becker aus Jakob der Luegner
Ich bin die kranke Prinzessin. und ich brauche eine Wolke...oder vielleicht nur ein stueck Watte.
Wenn ich spazieren gehe, spreche ich (sehr ruhig) und denke ich auf Deutsch.
Manchmal sehe ich gar nichts, was wichtig ist...und manchmal denke ich ueber tiefe, wichtige Sachen. Aber immer fuehle ich mich besser, weil es auf Deutsch ist.
Warum kann deutsche Gedanken meiner Ansicht wechseln? Ich weiss genau nicht. Aber ich denke, dass wenn ich auf Deutsch denke, fuehle ich mich wie ich eine andere Person bin.
Wer, denn? Noch ein mal, weiss ich nicht.
Aber ich fuehle anders. Nur anders kann ich sagen. Ich fuehle mich nicht wie die schlimme Sara, die immer verwirrt, immer gekraenkt, immer schwach und traurig ist... Ich denke, dass ich eigentlich stark bin, wenn ich auf Deutsch denke. Vielleicht weil Deutsch ist etwas, was ich fuer nur mich gelernt habe. Ich habe nach Deutschland geflogen und da gewohnt ohne Hilfe. Ich war doch brav. Und wenn ich auf Deutsch denke, fuehle ich wie die Sara, die da war.
Also bin ich nicht die gleiche Sara? Hab ich etwas da verloren? Kommt es zurueck-das was ich verloren habe? Oder ist es staendig weg?
Bitte, Sara, finde es! bitte, bitte.
Und jetzt komme ich zu das, was wirklich mir Leid tut: Einsamkeit.
Nicht weil ich in keine Beziehung bist. Und nicht weil ich allein zu sein hass.
Es ist weil ich keine echte Freunde HIER habe. Die Freunde, die ich habe, haben nichts gemeinsam mit mir. Wir haben in andere Richtungen gegangen. Sie alle sind in eine Sorority zusmammen...und wenn nicht...singen sie alle in "the con." Ich bin nicht in the conservatory und ich will kein Sorority Frau sein. Sie sprechen nur ueber diese Sachen...und wenn sie das tun, habe ich nichts zu sagen. Ich warte auf sie nicht mehr. Ich esse mit ihr nicht mehr. Ich fahre irgendwo ohne sie. Ich spaziere allein. Alles, was ich jetzt tue, ist allein. Manchmal ist das besser. Manchmal liebe ich die Ruhe. Manchmal liebe ich, dass ich Leute-anschauen kann. Manchmal ist es total gut, dass ich meine Hausaufgabe in ruhe machen kann.
Aber manchmal brauche ich jemand mit dem ich lachen kann. Manchmal brauche ich nur eine Umarmung. Manchmal brauche ich jemand...nur fuer einen Moment... aber wenn man etwas brauchst, braucht jemand dieses Etwas ganz schnell and ganz genau.
Die Familie kann diese Leerheit nicht fuellen.
Ich kann es nicht aendern, dass ich alles so tief fuehle. Aber ich will es nicht aendern. Am wenigstens fuehle ich...und ich denke, dass es besser ist, als jemand der nichts fuehlt.
Das muss ich glauben. Glaub mich. Du! du nichts fuehlst. Hoer mich. Ich fuehle mich wie ich mich fuehle, und dass kann ich tue. Niemand kann es halten. Versuch nicht. Lies oder Geh.
"Ich sehe, wie Jakobs Mund breiter wird, er sagt: 'Nicht ganz. Sie wuenschte sich eine Wolke. Der Witz ist, dass sie dachte, Wolken sind aus Watte, und nur deswegen war sie mit der Watte zufrieden.'
Lina sieht eine Weile hinaus, mir will scheinen verwundert, bevor sie ihn fragt: 'Aber sind denn Wolken nicht aus Watte?'"
-Jurek Becker aus Jakob der Luegner
Ich bin die kranke Prinzessin. und ich brauche eine Wolke...oder vielleicht nur ein stueck Watte.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
A Valentine
Lewis Carroll
And cannot pleasures, while they last,
Be actual unless, when past,
They leave us shuddering and aghast,
With anguish smarting?
And cannot friends be firm and fast,
And yet bear parting?
And must I then, at Friendship's call,
Calmly resign the little all
(Trifling, I grant, it is and small)
I have of gladness,
And lend my being to the thrall
Of gloom and sadness?
And think you that I should be dumb,
And full DOLORUM OMNIUM,
Excepting when YOU choose to come
And share my dinner?
At other times be sour and glum
And daily thinner?
Must he then only live to weep,
Who'd prove his friendship true and deep
By day a lonely shadow creep,
At night-time languish,
Oft raising in his broken sleep
The moan of anguish?
The lover, if for certain days
His fair one be denied his gaze,
Sinks not in grief and wild amaze,
But, wiser wooer,
He spends the time in writing lays,
And posts them to her.
And if the verse flow free and fast,
Till even the poet is aghast,
A touching Valentine at last
The post shall carry,
When thirteen days are gone and past
Of February.
Farewell, dear friend, and when we meet,
In desert waste or crowded street,
Perhaps before this week shall fleet,
Perhaps to-morrow.
I trust to find YOUR heart the seat
Of wasting sorrow.
Happy V-day...
This may be a couple's day, and though I'm not part of a couple, I think I've had my favorite day in a long time. This time, though, I recognize that I'm not happy because I feel like the old me again; today I'm happy because I was comfortable with the new me.
Invented holiday or not, today's a day focused around love. First and foremost, then, should be love of self. Next is my family. Then my friends. If there's space for anything more, then so be it.
<3
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