Winspark: September 2011

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Ego.

Ego is like a room of your own, a room with a view with the temperature & the smells & the music that you like. You want it your own way. You'd just like to have a little peace, you'd like to have a little happiness, you know, just gimme a break. But the more you think that way, the more you try to get life to come out so that it will always suit you, the more your fear of other people & what's outside your room grows. Rather than becoming more relaxed, you start pulling down the shades & locking the door. When you do go out, you find the experience more & more unsettling & disagreeable. You become touchier, more fearful, more irritable than ever. The more you try to get it your way, the less you feel at home. - Pema Chodron

Sunday, September 25, 2011

With fall just around the corner, I thought this 'fit was very "fitting" for the upcoming season. ;) Time to go shopping.

A Hairy Post

The following are just a few pictures of various hairstyles I've come across the world wide web that inspired future hairstyles for myself. Sadly, my hair is still only shoulder-length at the present time, but these pictures are just a few things to look forward to. :)

Monday, September 19, 2011

My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me, but nothing holds me.

— Fernando Pessoa (via thenocturnals)

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Flint.

As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the lunch I had that afternoon; how it was a salmon, whose underside was gray & how I named him Flint.

"Do you want a cookie?
- What?
- A cookie. Like an Oreo. Do you want one?
- No.
- How can you not want a cookie?
- I just don't.
- Okay, fine, let's say you did want a cookie. Let's say you were dying for a cookie, and there were cookies in the cupboard. What would you do?
- I'd eat a cookie?
- Exactly. That's all I'm saying.
- What are you saying?
- That if people want cookies, they should get a cookie. It's what people do.
- Let me guess. Dad won't let you have a cookie?
- No. Even though I'm practically starving to death, he won't even consider it. He says I have to have a sandwich first.
- And you don't think that's fair.
- You just said you'd get a cookie if you wanted one. So why can't I? I'm not a little kid. I can make my own decisions.
- Hmm. I can see why this bothers you so much.
- It's not fair. If he wants a cookie, he can have one. If you want a cookie, you can have one. But if I want a cookie, the rules don't count. Like you said, it's not fair.
- So what are you going to do?
- I'm going to eat a sandwich. Because I have to. Because the world isn't fair
to ten-year-olds."

— Nicholas Sparks (The Last Song)

Soul mate.

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master..."

— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)

The History of Love

Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved a girl, & her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.

- Nicole Krauss, "The History of Love"

You aren't boring or vain or simple or mean. You're colorful, complex & have beauty that's all your own. & for the record, you are infinitely nicer than you give yourself credit for.

We're all walking around with these glossy eyes. "I'm just tired," we say. But you know what? It's bullshit. Yes, we are tired, but it's not all from lack of sleep. We are tired of waking up with nothing to look forward to, tired of going to bed exhausted after doing a million things we find no enjoyment in doing. We're tired of this void, this emptiness that looms over us even though our days are packed. We're tired of the loneliness that presses down on us even though we're surrounded by dozens of people. So why can't we just say it? Humans are so afraid to look into each other's eyes & say, "I'm unhappy, I'm broken, I'm hopeless & fallible." We've been conditioned to associate pain with weakness, sadness with coldness, loneliness with unworthiness, difference with disease, as if these feelings are contagious, as if ambivalence is something not to be felt but to be feared. Well, I say screw all of that. Screw forced smiles & polite handshakes & I'm fine, thank you’s. Screw the fear of crying in a public place, screw the fake chipper voice, screw the lies we spit out to cover up our problems. We are human. We are meant to feel. To feel everything & to feel it all openly. We are not metal - we are flesh & bone. Our boiled blood courses through our cold, clammy hands. We are intricate & beautiful & we should never hide our human parts, because if we do, then what's left to show?

Footprints.

There comes a point where you miss someone so much that you can hear their voice echo in your head. You can hear the names that they used to call you, the words they used to tell you. You memorized their laugh, their smile, & their silly ways.

Get in my zone.

I act differently around different people. Mind you, I'm not fake. I just have my own comfort zone. That's why I can only be completely myself when I'm with people I'm comfortable with.

"You know when you're in a car & you glance out the window & it seems as though you're flying past everything?"

"Yeah?"

"That's what it feels like, every day. Except I'm those trees; that highway marker. I'm standing still & life is rushing past me, 50 miles per hour in the wrong direction."

"Then close your eyes."

Out of this world.

There is something about rainy days that makes me want to cry; may it be out of joy or sadness. Rainy days put me in a very emotional mood. I think it is because I am overwhelmed by a sense of empathy for the clouds because they are out-of-this-world, & that’s how I feel too, for the most part.

How are you, really?

I hate when people ask me how I am. That monotonous response, that "Fine thanks, how are you?". So forced, so contrived. When I reply, I don't even think of the meaning behind the words that are tumbling out. I don't even stop to realize that no, I'm not okay, or maybe yes, I'm fucking amazing. I wish people delved deeper than using the question "how are you" as this regularly structured script.

When I get upset, I shut down. I feel like I should be crying or screaming or something but I can't because I'm turned off. I go silent & don't talk very much. I just sit there, & think.

These creatures outside of my window are serenading my ears with the sweetest of songs, but for some reason I can’t fall into the creases of their lullaby. Sleep, where are you? Will you be here soon to rescue me? I’m reaching out to the moon, whispering to the crickets, but still there is no reply. Only darkness. The midnight hour will continue to sing, & I will be alone. Comfort me, comfort me.

I'm just tired. So mentally worn to the point where I'm physically sick. Everything frustrates me these days & nothing seems to go right. I overthink overthinking, even when I'm thinking of nothing at all. It's my head & my heart combined into an anchor & all I'm doing is sinking.

Good vibes & good company.

I want a late night adventure. I want someone to call me up & say, “I’m outside. Let’s go do something!” I want to go out late at night, maybe drive around. Go to a park & just swing on the swings. Maybe sit in the grass & watch the stars or maybe go to a 24 hour food place & pig out. I just want a late night adventure with people I like to be around. No drama. Nothing but good vibes & good company.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

First step to adulthood.

Easy first step to adulthood: Change your email from oxbabiigrl86xo or mackdaddyo to your first & last name.

GPS.

I'm competitive. With my GPS. I always have to beat my own arrival time. While my GPS may say that I'll arrive at my destination at 9:45 PM, I think, "Oh yeah? Make that 9:40! & what GPS? & what? Yeah, that's right. In. Yo. Face!"

Over thinking,

Over thinking ruins you. Ruins the situation, turns things around, makes you worry & just makes things worse than it actually is.

Monday, September 5, 2011

A leaking faucet.

You can't just turn your heart off like a faucet; you have to go to the source & dry it out, drop by drop.

Each one better than the last.

The truth was I knew, after all those flat January days, that I deserved better. I deserved I love you's & kiwi fruits & warriors coming to my door, besotted with love. I deserved pictures of my face in a thousand expressions, & the warmth of a baby's kick beneath my hand. I deserved to grow, & to change, to become all the girls I could be over the course of my life, each one better than the last.

Know the difference, kthx.

It didn't make you noble to step away from something that wasn't working, even if you thought you were the reason for the malfunction. Especially then. It just made you a quitter. Because if you were the problem, chances were you could also be the solution. The only way to find out was to take another shot.

Outside looking in.

Relationships don't always make sense. Especially from the outside.

Two strangers.

Instead, we just sat there, together but really apart, watching a show about a stranger & all her secrets, while keeping ours to ourselves, as always.

A second breakup.

Because you can never go from going to be being friends, just like that. It's a lie. It's just something that people say they'll do to take the permanence out of a breakup. & someone always take it to mean more than it does, & then is hurt even more when, inevitably, said "friendly" relationship is still a major step down from the previous relationship, & it's like breaking up all over again. But messier.

Fairy tales aren't real.

So maybe it wasn't a fairy tale love. But those stories weren't real anyway. Mine were.

Almost.

What did it feel like, I wondered, to love someone that much? So much that you couldn't even control yourself when they came close, as if you might just break free of whatever was holding you & throw yourself at them with enough force to easily overwhelm you both. I had to wonder, but he clearly knew: you could see it, feel it coming off him, like a heat. I almost envied him that. Almost.

An anchoring kind of grief.

Grief can be a burden, but also an anchor. You get used to the weight, how it holds you in place.

A little bit of disorganization.

But if everything was always smooth & perfect, you'd get used to that, you know? You have to have a little bit of disorganization now & then. Otherwise, you'll never really enjoy it when things go right.

Pieces & parts.

Pieces & parts were always easier to process. The full picture, the entire story, was another thing entirely. But you just never knew. Sometimes, people could surprise you.

Timing.

Everything, in the end, comes down to timing. One second, one minute, one hour could make all the difference.

A good listener.

This is the problem with dealing with someone who is actually a good listener. They don't just jump in on your sentences, saving you from actually finishing them, or talk over you, allowing what you do manage to get out to be lost or altered in transit. Instead, they wait, so you have to keep going.

Flaws.

I don't know. Just because someone's pretty doesn't mean they're decent. Or vice versa. I'm not into appearances. I like flaws. I think they make things interesting.

A second glance.

I thought again how you could never really know what you were seeing with just one glance, in motion, passing by. Good or bad, right or wrong. There was always so much more.

Edge to edge.

So many versions of just one memory, & yet none of them were right or wrong. Instead, they were all pieces. Only when fitted together, edge to edge, could they even begint to tell the whole story.

Picky in farewells.

I'd long ago learned not to be picky in farewells. They weren't guranteed or promised. You were lucky, more than blessed, if you got a good-bye at all.

Middle.

There has to be a middle. Without it, nothing can truly be whole. Because it's not just the space between, but also what holds everything together.

I want to love, & be loved.

I heard what you said. I'm not the silly romantic you think. I don't want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don't want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want...a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, & wake up, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, & be loved.

Starbucks.

I bet the people who work at Starbucks think, "Freaking tired of all these kids coming in here & taking pictures of our coffee."

Summer thunderstorm.

I am absolutely petrified of the dark. But when there is a nighttime summer thunderstorm, I sit outside & watch it & feel completely at peace.

No relationship is perfect.

No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater. The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. & that's the key. It's like a big pie chart, & the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.

Only in America.

We have it so good in America that we get a kick out of voluntarily spending weekends living like refugees & calling it "camping".

Pack your brain too.

Follow your heart, but take your brain with you.

By the sea.

The lit up carnival rides on the pier, the greasy food stands, sand on the boardwalk, my hand in yours.

The bottomline.

So there's this boy, & I gotta admit, he's got my attention. Bottom line is, if he wants me, I'm all his.

I want you, entire.

I want to know how many scars you have & memorize the shape of your tongue. I want to climb the curve of your lower back & count your vertebrae, your ribs, your fingers, your goosebumps. I want to chart the topography on your anatomy & be fluent in your body language. I want you, entire.

Place Head Here.

I have a desk & an armchair & an ottoman, all of these places to sit & study or read or surf the 'net to music. Instead I keep finding myself in bed. Lately, I'm propped up by these pillows inthe last place they say you should be studying or doing anything much more than sleeping or heading toward unconsciousness. They say it will upset a balance, skew an equilibrium; bluntly, they say it will throw me out of whack.

But who are they?