Monday, November 21, 2011
One day when the sky is falling, I'll be standing
I think I could start hating dreams.
I really, really think I could. Not just dreams, as in the aspirations of where I want to end up in life, but dreams as in my subconscious movie theater.
Yes, I've had good dreams. The kind where when you awake, you squeeze your eyes shut just to catch one more glimpse of the fields of happiness you were just in. But I've been getting my share of ones I don't want. Where the ghosts of past decide to appear, and make choices in both worlds a bit more complicated.
It's almost to the point where I don't want to sleep. I don't want to know whats endlessly plaguing me. I think about it often enough awake. Why do I need to spend my few hours of totally carefree slumber mulling over things I've spent the past week, month, year, lifetime thinking about.
Not to mention dreams as in my plans for life. Those suck too. Just as soon as I think I've got it all figured out, my mind begins to bunny hop again. Well maybe this, or I could do this! It seems to come around especially after I've had a particularly awkward dream during the night.
I think too much, and don't write enough.
I really, really think I could. Not just dreams, as in the aspirations of where I want to end up in life, but dreams as in my subconscious movie theater.
Yes, I've had good dreams. The kind where when you awake, you squeeze your eyes shut just to catch one more glimpse of the fields of happiness you were just in. But I've been getting my share of ones I don't want. Where the ghosts of past decide to appear, and make choices in both worlds a bit more complicated.
It's almost to the point where I don't want to sleep. I don't want to know whats endlessly plaguing me. I think about it often enough awake. Why do I need to spend my few hours of totally carefree slumber mulling over things I've spent the past week, month, year, lifetime thinking about.
Not to mention dreams as in my plans for life. Those suck too. Just as soon as I think I've got it all figured out, my mind begins to bunny hop again. Well maybe this, or I could do this! It seems to come around especially after I've had a particularly awkward dream during the night.
I think too much, and don't write enough.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Now I don't even know myself....Do I want too?
I'm having some trouble accepting things right now in the world. I can't seem to grasp the different things that are going on around me, or the actions that people in my life are choosing to take.
I know that I can't change the world, or make everything fit into the ideas that I have in my own head.
But with that, I also know when to give a little, and accept things. Accept ideas from others, and be open to whatever comes my way. To take criticism, or helpful hints (I'm working on taking it politely) and be open to new ideas. To try out new thoughts, or adventures, or lifestyles...well to some extent on the lifestyles part. Drugged out hippies not my cup of tea to taste test.
However, I'm having trouble accepting the fact that other people can't be as open to the whole picture as I strive to be myself.
I don't mean to preach. I know that I'm no God send of a person myself. I have my faults, and that I can openly admit. I swear too much, have strong morals and can be very selfish, especially when it comes to helping out my mother on occasions.
However, there are some things I pride myself on; those little things that set me apart from my peers. For example, my want to do everything better and go that extra mile no matter how tired I am. To not say no, and to do my best to help out. To not leach off of other peoples hard work, and to carry my own weight. To have my moments to bitch and moan, but when it comes down to it know that I did everything I could possibly do, and if no one else does there isn't much I can do. I did what was right and deep down, I'll be able to sleep at night.
I don't want to point fingers. I'm not blogging to trash people online. It's just that my frustrations killing me. I've been trying so hard to accept that things are the way they are; that I'm doing all I can. To not let the little things dig deep into my subconscious. To know that I can't control the fact that things are not the way they once appeared.
I've gotten an overload of information in the past couple of weeks. All about the human race as I know in general. Young people, old people, people I've know forever, and people I've just recently met. You name it, I feel like I've suddenly gotten a light bulb moment concerning it. I feel like I've been looking through one of those broken glass cups. I'm sure you've seen them before. It's purposely cracked, to refract the light in different ways and make things appear differently. And now, all of a sudden, the cracks are gone. And what I thought was one way, is now completely different.
Part of me now, as sad as it makes me to say, is seeing why the older generation is worried about us. It makes me sad that we as a whole have yet to realize the potential we have. Even the so called elite among us I feel like aren't going outside their own world. That they aren't looking beyond themselves and the five hours they spent yesterday working, while many have spent five hours daily for weeks on the same thing.
It's not just us though. Not just those of us from the late 80's, early 90's. I've seen just as much selfish behavior coming out of those who've been around the blocks a couple of times, if you know what I mean.
It's not your right to get to be selfish for so long, and then suddenly 'see the light'. I've had to see the light for quite awhile when it comes to you, so why do now you get to switch out the light bulb? Why do now you get to decide how I should view the rest of the world through my glass house now. The walls were the pink of innocence, and now I'm becoming so jaded and shaded I can barely see through the grey fog that surrounds it.
It worries me that I've become jaded, and unable to accept these things. I'm 19. Shouldn't I get to believe the best in people for a little bit longer? Get a little bit more time to run through the fields of poppy's, and kick up the dirt in my red sparkly slippers.
I guess I'm not jaded. I guess what it comes down to is that I look at these people and wonder, 'Is this what I'm like too? Is this what they see when they look at me?'
And I think that's what worries me most. That what I see in others is also in me. That these things I cannot accept emanate from me just as much.
How can I make a difference if I'm part of the problem?
I know that I can't change the world, or make everything fit into the ideas that I have in my own head.
But with that, I also know when to give a little, and accept things. Accept ideas from others, and be open to whatever comes my way. To take criticism, or helpful hints (I'm working on taking it politely) and be open to new ideas. To try out new thoughts, or adventures, or lifestyles...well to some extent on the lifestyles part. Drugged out hippies not my cup of tea to taste test.
However, I'm having trouble accepting the fact that other people can't be as open to the whole picture as I strive to be myself.
I don't mean to preach. I know that I'm no God send of a person myself. I have my faults, and that I can openly admit. I swear too much, have strong morals and can be very selfish, especially when it comes to helping out my mother on occasions.
However, there are some things I pride myself on; those little things that set me apart from my peers. For example, my want to do everything better and go that extra mile no matter how tired I am. To not say no, and to do my best to help out. To not leach off of other peoples hard work, and to carry my own weight. To have my moments to bitch and moan, but when it comes down to it know that I did everything I could possibly do, and if no one else does there isn't much I can do. I did what was right and deep down, I'll be able to sleep at night.
I don't want to point fingers. I'm not blogging to trash people online. It's just that my frustrations killing me. I've been trying so hard to accept that things are the way they are; that I'm doing all I can. To not let the little things dig deep into my subconscious. To know that I can't control the fact that things are not the way they once appeared.
I've gotten an overload of information in the past couple of weeks. All about the human race as I know in general. Young people, old people, people I've know forever, and people I've just recently met. You name it, I feel like I've suddenly gotten a light bulb moment concerning it. I feel like I've been looking through one of those broken glass cups. I'm sure you've seen them before. It's purposely cracked, to refract the light in different ways and make things appear differently. And now, all of a sudden, the cracks are gone. And what I thought was one way, is now completely different.
Part of me now, as sad as it makes me to say, is seeing why the older generation is worried about us. It makes me sad that we as a whole have yet to realize the potential we have. Even the so called elite among us I feel like aren't going outside their own world. That they aren't looking beyond themselves and the five hours they spent yesterday working, while many have spent five hours daily for weeks on the same thing.
It's not just us though. Not just those of us from the late 80's, early 90's. I've seen just as much selfish behavior coming out of those who've been around the blocks a couple of times, if you know what I mean.
It's not your right to get to be selfish for so long, and then suddenly 'see the light'. I've had to see the light for quite awhile when it comes to you, so why do now you get to switch out the light bulb? Why do now you get to decide how I should view the rest of the world through my glass house now. The walls were the pink of innocence, and now I'm becoming so jaded and shaded I can barely see through the grey fog that surrounds it.
It worries me that I've become jaded, and unable to accept these things. I'm 19. Shouldn't I get to believe the best in people for a little bit longer? Get a little bit more time to run through the fields of poppy's, and kick up the dirt in my red sparkly slippers.
I guess I'm not jaded. I guess what it comes down to is that I look at these people and wonder, 'Is this what I'm like too? Is this what they see when they look at me?'
And I think that's what worries me most. That what I see in others is also in me. That these things I cannot accept emanate from me just as much.
How can I make a difference if I'm part of the problem?
Monday, November 14, 2011
But I'd much rather be somewhere with you
It's funny how traits you see in yourself, can be seen so differently by others.
What I would call relaxed, others see as bro.
What I see as emotional, others see as crazy.
When I see my artistic side, others see as awkward.
What I think is junk, others see something good.
It's like when you see a video of yourself, or a picture that you didn't know someone took of you. You notice the little things, while others take in the whole picture.
Or when you wear a new swimsuit in public. You see the rolls on your back, others see how cute your suit is.
I guess the best way to describe it is that I see myself in a fun house mirror. What I see can't be what everyone else sees. If it was, things would be different. Some things for the better, but the same amount for the worst.
So what do you pick. To listen to yourself, or others? Or where do you find the delicate balance where you accept both views, and mesh them together in your mind to make up the collage that probably is the most like you.
When do you start to take the good with the bad, and just know that no ones perfect. Because like I said before, in the end, the only person you're going to be with forever is yourself and if you don't understand them, no one will.
The only issue with my logic is how do you know if you're version of yourself is true?
What I would call relaxed, others see as bro.
What I see as emotional, others see as crazy.
When I see my artistic side, others see as awkward.
What I think is junk, others see something good.
It's like when you see a video of yourself, or a picture that you didn't know someone took of you. You notice the little things, while others take in the whole picture.
Or when you wear a new swimsuit in public. You see the rolls on your back, others see how cute your suit is.
I guess the best way to describe it is that I see myself in a fun house mirror. What I see can't be what everyone else sees. If it was, things would be different. Some things for the better, but the same amount for the worst.
So what do you pick. To listen to yourself, or others? Or where do you find the delicate balance where you accept both views, and mesh them together in your mind to make up the collage that probably is the most like you.
When do you start to take the good with the bad, and just know that no ones perfect. Because like I said before, in the end, the only person you're going to be with forever is yourself and if you don't understand them, no one will.
The only issue with my logic is how do you know if you're version of yourself is true?
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Tryin' to figure out the time zones makin' me crazy
I hate when I can't find my words.
I hate when it feels like there is a stone wall holding up the passage between my words and the thoughts they form.
In life, it feels like the only thing I have control over most days is my words. So when they don't come, I don't know what to do. I can feel them pushing against my cranium, trying to get out. But what am I supposed to do when I can't find them the door? It feels like just one more failure, one more door I couldn't get open.
I know thats life. At least, the sane part of me understands that sometimes you've gotta lose, and that sometimes as much as you try, you can't fix or control everything. But there's always this part of me, that thinks maybe I can. Maybe if I just do a little more, or try a little harder, I'll be able to do it in the end.
So here I am. Pounding my head in frustration because I can't get my words out. I need to get them out, to lay them down and analyze them. All that happens when they're stuck up in there is that I can't figure out where one ends and the other one begins. It's how I'd imagine a being in a bomb would feel like. You've got all these excited atoms, bouncing around and colliding and thrashing so fast you can't tell which ones which. Until all of a sudden....
BOOM! Impact happens, and the dust is flying. Then, and maybe not even then, after the smoke clears the rubbles spelling it out. Disaster. Straight up.
Hence, I want to get them out. Put them down, in lists, in poems, in blog posts. Anywhere. Just somewhere I can't get judged, and I can sort through it all.
But I can't. I can't get my words together. I can't get them to say what I want. I can't get them to make sense. I can't get them to get the message across. I know this looks like a message, or an idea, or a thought. But it's really not.
This isn't the teenage angst inside of me boiling up. This is Emily, the pseudo adult. That in between before I have to attempt to have a real life, and figuring out what my real life is going to consist of.
This sucks.
I hate when it feels like there is a stone wall holding up the passage between my words and the thoughts they form.
In life, it feels like the only thing I have control over most days is my words. So when they don't come, I don't know what to do. I can feel them pushing against my cranium, trying to get out. But what am I supposed to do when I can't find them the door? It feels like just one more failure, one more door I couldn't get open.
I know thats life. At least, the sane part of me understands that sometimes you've gotta lose, and that sometimes as much as you try, you can't fix or control everything. But there's always this part of me, that thinks maybe I can. Maybe if I just do a little more, or try a little harder, I'll be able to do it in the end.
So here I am. Pounding my head in frustration because I can't get my words out. I need to get them out, to lay them down and analyze them. All that happens when they're stuck up in there is that I can't figure out where one ends and the other one begins. It's how I'd imagine a being in a bomb would feel like. You've got all these excited atoms, bouncing around and colliding and thrashing so fast you can't tell which ones which. Until all of a sudden....
BOOM! Impact happens, and the dust is flying. Then, and maybe not even then, after the smoke clears the rubbles spelling it out. Disaster. Straight up.
Hence, I want to get them out. Put them down, in lists, in poems, in blog posts. Anywhere. Just somewhere I can't get judged, and I can sort through it all.
But I can't. I can't get my words together. I can't get them to say what I want. I can't get them to make sense. I can't get them to get the message across. I know this looks like a message, or an idea, or a thought. But it's really not.
This isn't the teenage angst inside of me boiling up. This is Emily, the pseudo adult. That in between before I have to attempt to have a real life, and figuring out what my real life is going to consist of.
This sucks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)