Who comes to Claim? Who dares the Dream, and daring ---

Strangely, even though things are going swimmingly with me currently, I haven’t been finding things to write about. I’m working a lot, occasionally finding time to visit Elizabeth, and working on things around the house. Nothing all that exciting that I need to write about. . .

I was reading a book the other day and came across a very interesting story and moral. The story is told near the climax of the book as a test to determine which of two claimants is the rightful king to a throne. At the end of the story he asks a question.

Here it is:

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Listen to me. Listen to the sadness I must relate. Live it.

Listen to me. Live it.

Once there was a woman married to a blacksmith in Ruen. As wives are wont to do, she waxed great with child, and one afternoon her time came. Her husband sent for the local midwife, but she was busy elsewhere, and the midwife from the neighborhood next to theirs answered the call. She was a short woman, stout, and she had a hunched shoulder, a twisted arm, and wall eyes that stared at deviant angles. When she entered the birthing chamber, the wife cried out in shock and terror, and the midwife took affront.

In spite the midwife sat back when the woman bled, and let her life’s blood drain into useless pools in the bed. And from these cooling pools she lifted a baby girl even as the mother took one last shuddering breath and died. “I curse you,” the midwife cried to the infant, “to a sad life!” Then she picked up her instruments, laid the infant down by her dead mother, and left the room.

The blacksmith mourned his wife, for she had been useful, and blamed his infant daughter for his loss. He put her out to a wet nurse, begrudging her every coin he had to pay to let his daughter suck at the woman’s breast, and only reluctantly took her back into his house when she was four. The blacksmith already had three older sons, and he did not want this daughter, but he was obliged to take her.

She grew, but following the midwife’s curse she grew only into sadness. Her father and brothers treated her with cold indifference that too often bordered on hostility. The girl spent her days attending their needs, never leaving the house or the forge that abutted it, keeping her head bowed, never smiling. She had no reason to smile.

She grew into young womanhood, yet her days were as gray and featureless as they had been as a child. Her only comfort was her mother’s small collection of books which she kept under her bed and only pulled out to read once everyone else in the house was asleep. These books were her only friends. Until . . . until one day a young man came to the forge, bringing his horse which had cast a shoe. He spied the woman as she sought to hide in the shadows, and managed a quiet word to her. Over the next few weeks, with increasing courage, she met him for snatched minutes in the alley behind the house, exchanging words, hopes, dreams. For the first time in her life she learned to smile.

Alas!

Alas! One night she determined to run away with the young man, run to an inn nearby where they planned to consummate their love and from there move into a world of hope. But she was careless, and in her eagerness left her father’s house before she had dried the dishes washed from the evening meal. Her brothers followed her, furious at her slovenliness, and found her even as her lover’s lips were for the first time lowering to hers.

They seized him, crowing with fury, and bore him to the ground. They were strong men, and could have killed him quickly, but they chose to take their time, and they drew out his death until his screams shattered the night. And yet no one threw open their shuttered windows to investigate. No one. When he was dead they turned to their sister, and one took his knife and, as the others held her down, he put out her eyes so that she would never be tempted again.

Now even her treasured books were denied her. Long hours she would sit on her bed, late at night, feeling their taunting shapes beneath her hands, her tearless sorrow ravaging her face. There was nothing for her now. Her father grew old and died, and her brothers took wives, bringing them home to live in their house. She continued as the household drudge, creeping blindly about the house, sometimes but not always evading the sharp corners of furniture deliberately moved into her path and the stabbing fingers of her sisters-in-law. Nieces and nephews were born, and they soon learned the sharp ways of their parents. The woman learned to accept pinches and punches, and she bowed her head to fate.

After some years, she became aware of a comforting presence that lingered in the back alleyway. It was a great shaggy dog, a stray, that someone had discarded. Gradually he became used to her, and accepted careful scraps from her fingers, licking them gratefully when he had finished. He was her only friend, and somehow she conceived the idea that the dog was her lover’s soul come back to aid her. The thought comforted her. One day, the dog went a-roaming, as dogs are wont to do, and he caught a squirrel, wandering madly through the back streets of Ruen. As the dog caught the squirrel the rodent bit him, and the dog yelped in surprise and let the creature go. Two days later he felt a madness building in his mind.

The woman was relieved when she heard the dog scratching at the door, and she hurried to give it a pat and a hug. But as she leaned down the dog snarled and bit her hand, and she screamed and tore loose, and the brothers and their wives and their numerous children came a-running through the house and dragged her inside, slapping her for her foolishness, and stomped the dog to death.

But it was too late. She grew feverish, her body wracked with convulsing agony. Her sisters-in-law tended her only enough to keep her alive, but they wished they had not bothered when the woman finally struggled up from her sickbed. The fever had crippled her back and twisted one leg shorter than the other. Even as a drudge, she was useless.

There is not much left to tell. They threw her out to wander the streets, where she begged what food she could and slept in doorways when she was able. She accepted the abuse meted out by those who prey on the week and helpless, and knew her time was short. Winter approached, and winter is never kind to those lacking both home and comfort.

So she curled up about her rags and sought the only answer to her pain. I ask you now to venture the ordeal. What was her answer? What answer could she find to her pain and her sorrow?

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Well. . . what was her answer? What did she do? What would you do? I am glad to say that I answered correctly. I will post up the answer given in a few days, but I would like to see what other people think. What answer would you give?

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The answer given was “She laughed. She laughed. It was the only thing left for her to do.”

The short stanza I used as a title for these posts was used repeatedly in the books, and after that story was fully finished the end was revealed.

Who comes to Claim?
Who dares to dream
and daring - laughs.

To which the test giver responds - “Yes. Laughs. To laugh is to dare, because laughter dares fate and sorrow and the weight of all injustices.”

So people, laugh. Laugh at life. Don't take it too serious.

Remember “A thing derided is a thing dead; a laughing man is stronger than a suffering man.” - Gustave Flaubert

The Reports of My Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

Sorry everyone. I realize that it has been almost a month since I last updated this baby, and the three or four of you who actually read it were probably getting antsy (I know Trips was. . . He said he needed my emotions “injected into his life”).

I guess there were two main reasons I didn’t post up anything in the past month. The first was because I was nearing my graduation, and I knew that anything I posted would end up being a sappy, teary-eyed, emotional goodbye to everyone (which this post will end up turning into anyway). I didn’t think I could handle that kind of goodbye or even really admit to myself that my college career was ending. I had a hard enough time saying goodbye to people, and I think I came off as a little cold and detached, but that was only because I was attempting to keep myself from breaking down. Last week was rough (and I’ll get into that more later).

The second reason I didn’t write a post recently has to do with my relationship status. Four days after my last blog post I started a relationship with an amazing woman (even as I write this I wonder what mental illness she is suffering from that makes her think I am in any way worthy of her affection) . . . and I think that I was afraid that if I wrote a post saying how happy I was, I would wake up and find that it had all been some elaborate dream. Or maybe I thought that if I wrote a post, the Almighty would let the other shoe drop and suckerpunch me in some new and creative way. As I once said to BJ, I am a romantic hypochondriac. I may put forward a happy and brave face, but for some reason I am always thinking things like - “Have I done something wrong? Is it going to end? What if I screw up?” . . . I hope for the best, but envision the worst, and I don’t know why. . .

Anyway, as I was cleaning my room so I would have space to unpack my junk, I found an old CD that a friend made when we were in a barbershop quartet back in high school. Not knowing what songs were on it or their order, I laughed, said “In Bob I trust”, and hit random. I was regaled with the following song:

Our song was a song of tomorrow
Our hearts were as high as the sky
But songs are forgotten and skies often grey
Nevertheless there is this I can say
From the first hello
To the last goodbye
It’s been awfully nice to know you
So excuse the parting sigh
And I’ll watch you go
With my head held high
You’ve been dear and sweet
A pleasure to meet
A special treat
Say I...
From the first hello
To the last goodbye

I hadn’t thought about that song since we sang it back in high school, but it fits my current mood perfectly. I know that I will probably see almost all of my friends again, but how many of my acquaintances are now things of the past? How many of the people that I met in college but didn’t get too close to are now just people I once knew? How many of my friends will move on to distant jobs never to be seen again? It is disheartening to think that Saturday May 5th was the last time I may see some of them, and I am not sure how I really feel about the idea. It is still sinking in right now.

As always, some quotes:

“It's sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew.” – Henry Rollins

"Love is when the woman of your dreams becomes a reality and sleep stops being a priority."

"If I could spend every minute of every day with you I would. I think about you all the time. I think of you when I go to bed, and you're the first thing I think about when I wake up. I can't go through one day without wanting to see you, needing to see you. You're addictive, I don't get it ... what is it about you?"

*Sigh*

You know, for one day - just one short day - I would love to be able to have nobody ask me about my post graduation plans. I don't really want to think about it any more than I have to. Right now I just want to spend as much time with my friends as possible (and get all my stuff done... I hate all of my professors right now).

Hopefully today will be that day.

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I had a semi-philosophical moment earlier and wrote down a weird paragraph:

There are some things in life you can’t change. You can’t stop the weather or the inexorable change of tides. You can’t turn lead into gold or buy yourself more time in life. Try as you might, you can’t change your past choices or choose how others feel about you. But there are things you can do. You can weather any storms that come and plan your arrivals and departures based upon the tides. You can use lead in countless more ways than you could gold and use the time you are given well. And you can learn from your past choices and you can choose how you feel about others. Embrace the choices you have and accept those you don’t. It doesn’t help anyone to dwell on the things they can’t change.

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I confuse the shit out of myself, but I would like to think that certain others contribute significantly to this confusion. Sort it out Crazy Fool. Sort it out.

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Quotes:

When a man is thinking about matters of the heart, the most common expression on his face will be one of confusion. - Me

I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own except for the fact that you happen to be insane. - O'Brien, 1984

To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special. – Jim Valvano

Don’t cry because it is over. Smile because it happened. – Dr. Seuss

Am I so much to blame, that yesterday, when you were pleading
Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impulsive and wayward,
Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful perhaps of decorum?
Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so frankly, for saying
What I ought not to have said, yet now I can never unsay it;
For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion,
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret,
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Insomnia Sucks

Ok, those of you who are reading this should be warned that I am running on empty at the moment and I will probably say some things that either don’t make sense or that I shouldn’t say. At the moment, I just don’t care.

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This first section is something I have been thinking about a lot lately – my spirituality. I can’t call it my religiosity, because I don’t follow any specific religion. I mean, if I absolutely had to subscribe to any one religion, I would have to choose to be a non-denominational Christian (ok, I know that even that isn’t truly choosing a religion, but it is as close as I can get).

I am not sure why I have been thinking about my spirituality lately. Maybe it is because I have actually sat in on a few religious ceremonies lately. Maybe it is because I have been hanging out with several highly religious people recently. Maybe it is just because once again I have reached a point in my life where I just don’t know what I should do.

Whatever the reason, I feel like I should explain my views on religion somewhere that people can read them. I will try to be as non-judgmental and honest as I can in this explanation.

1. I believe there is a God. I believe that this God is a benevolent being.

2. I believe that this God has revealed itself throughout the ages to any number of people in any number of ways. I believe that miracles described in Greek, Roman, Norse, and Egyptian mythologies probably actually have some foundation in truth. I believe that the Jewish/Christian/Muslim holy texts have at least some basis in fact. I believe Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and every other major religion in the world has some kind of connection to this same God. Miracles happen, and the only way to explain them is a God.

3. I believe that the idea of being religious and to worship God is a respectable and necessary thing in life.

4. I believe that the basic tenets of every major religion in the world are basically good. From the Ten Commandments to the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path, every major religion has some kind of foundation that is easily followed or understood by most people. Very few of these tenets conflict with the other religions. Heck, even “You shall have no other gods before Me” isn’t contradicted if you believe that all religions are just different ways to worship the same God.

I think those four basic beliefs are commonplace and respectable. Here is where I step away from most people. I don’t go as far as some people (Jesse Ventura) and claim that religion is a crutch for people. Far from it, religion has throughout history brought people together in ways nothing else has. No, I don’t believe that, but I do believe that religion is not universally good.

Established religion has been the basis for wars, discrimination, homicide, genocide, feuds, and hatred throughout the centuries. Arguments and conflicts between religious groups have caused more problems through the centuries than anything else I can think of. Blind faith leads people to do exceedingly foolish things.

It isn’t only disagreements between religions that cause problems. Misinterpretation of religious doctrines has lead to almost as many problems as the conflicts. It leads to irrational hatred of people who are different, terrorists blowing themselves up in order to kill “infidels”, witch hunts, inquisitions, and civil wars.

For these reasons, I, while being extremely spiritual, cannot bring myself to claim any specific religion as my own.

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Wow, I am proud of myself. I stayed on topic for much longer than I expected to.

This next section though. . . I am going to do a lot of rambling. I am not good at typing about my personal life really.

Looking back on the past year or so, I find that I haven’t changed at all. When I say I haven’t changed, I mean that I am finding myself in situations like I was last year at about this point.

I am like a man in quicksand. I feel myself sink down, and my hand finds itself on a branch, so I grab onto the branch and begin pulling with all my might. Unfortunately, the branch seems to always break and I find myself sinking right back into the quicksand.

Maybe I should just stop struggling against the quicksand. Maybe I should just let myself sink into the quicksand and accept my fate. I tried it once, but my timing was atrocious. Maybe I was supposed to grab the branch then and let myself and the quicksand adjust for a while until the branch broke. Well, the branch has broken. Should I surrender?

Looking at things from the perspective of Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy, I can say to myself, “What is the worst that can happen?” Honestly, the worst thing that could happen is getting shot down again. The thing is, I am used to that. It would just be another “Suckerpunch” from the big man upstairs. I’ve lost track of how many times that has happened over the years. It isn’t that bad really. I can laugh it off nowadays.

What else am I scared of? I can’t put it in words. I don’t really think there is anything holding me back. Maybe it is because I know I won’t be believed. I mean, I have said point blank how I feel countless times, but I don’t think it has ever really sunk in. Then again, disregarding one time, every time I have said how I feel, I have used my signature sarcastic tone or said it flippantly. Maybe I just need to be dead serious the next time I say it. It isn’t a joke, but I feel I sometimes have to joke about it to keep from exposing my feelings to people honestly. I need to stop doing it.

Alright, I am just going to let go. I am going to surrender myself to the quicksand. It is all in the hands of God now. I am going to trust that things will work out as they should.

. . . Oh, sleepless nights give one a lot to think about. As always, comments are welcome and encouraged. I like to know when friends are actually reading this and what they think about what I write. Now, as I like to do, here are some quotes:

The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief -
But the pain of grief
Is only a shadow
When compared with the pain
Of never risking love.
- Hilary Stanton Zunin

“Love is a special word, and I use it only when I mean it. You say the word too much and it becomes cheap.” – Ray Charles

“The most human thing we have to do in life is is to learn to speak our honest convictions and feelings and live with the consequences. This is the first requirement of love, and it makes us vulnerable to other people who may ridicule us. But our vulnerability is the only thing we can give to other people.” – Leo F. Buscaglia

Metaphors

There Person G, are you happy? I mentioned you. Now stop whining and bitching. (I just hope people H-Z don’t start bitching at me now.)

I have also had a request to mention how amazing Poopsie’s boobs are. Poopsie, you know who you are and how much everyone loves those perky little love-muffins. I mean really, any man whose mouth doesn’t water over those gazongas is no friend of mine. Ok, now to get my mind off of those luscious love puppies and back to the task at hand.

--

Now for the main purpose of this post. I want to talk about metaphors. Everyone uses metaphors as part of their daily life. Hell, I used several when I was talking about Poopsie’s delicious funbags (whoops, there’s another one).

But that isn’t really the type of metaphor I mean with this post. No, this post is about the metaphors people use when they are talking about someone and they only want specific people to know who they are talking about. Sometimes these metaphors are silly and easily decoded. Other times they remain viable code words for many months.

Another interesting thing to look at when considering metaphors is where the metaphor itself came from. What is it about the word that fits the person or event that you are trying to talk about without talking about it? I know that personally it normally comes from some comment made offhand by myself or my coconspirators that makes some kind of humorous impact. It can be an offhand comment, or an away message the person has up that sticks with us. Whatever the source, I rarely use metaphors with no reason behind them.

Sitting here and writing about metaphors is making me think of all the metaphors I have used or heard in the past year or so. Let me see how many I can name.

Groceries, Bicycle, Brick, Oot, Canada, Mexico, Iraq, Switzerland, Teddy Bear, Frog, Toad, Economics, Explosion of Boobies! (the exclamation point is mandatory), The List, Noble Weasel, and finally, the funniest of them all, CD!!

These are just the ones I have used or heard (and can remember) from the past year or so. If I went back any further I could probably come up with any number of additional metaphors I have used. All in all, metaphors for me are a fun way to talk about people (not necessarily in a bad way, in fact, normally in a very good way) without most people knowing who I am talking about. They are fun and harmless. Isn’t that right Statler?

Well, that is all I have to say about those, here are some quotes of the moment as is traditional.

“When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?” – Tori Amos

“Without wearing any mask we are conscious of, we have a special face for each friend.” – Oliver Wendell Holmes

“Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft.” – Ovid

“It is the privilege of those who fear love to murder those who do not fear it!” – May Sarton

“Loving someone that doesn't love you is like reaching for a star. You know you'll never reach it, but you just got to keep trying.”

Poopsie is not a real person. Sure, I love looking at several different people's dirty pillows, but I would never single any of them out in a blog post.

Oy vey!

So, I was planning on writing a post about a Futurama episode that was on earlier this week, but unfortunately as I got about halfway through writing the post, I realized that it would be taken the wrong way.

The episode is one of the many involving Fry's unrequited love for Leela, and is my favorite Futurama episode of all time. As I got further and further into the writing of the post, I realized that people would assume I was talking about myself instead of the episode.

Person A would think I was writing about Person B. Person B would see it as either a post about themself or Person A. Person C would laugh at me and make jokes about how I was writing about Person A. Person D would assume it was about Person B. Person E is getting annoyed I am writing about all these random people, and Person F is pissed that I haven't mentioned them.

*Sigh* Sometimes I wish a ball could just be a ball, a tree could just be a tree, and the Washington Monument could just be a tall slender building.

So, rather than write a post about my love for a sappy episode of Futurama, I will just post up a couple of pictures I got of my cousin's baby girl. She's a cutie, but too bad her name is Savannah White.

Poor kid.




And now a quote or three:

“I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later.” - Mitch Hedberg

“Don't go for the looks, it can be quite deceiving. Don't go for wealth, even that fades away - go for someone who makes you smile because only a smile makes a dark day seem bright. Hope you find that person.” - Anonymous

“The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be” - Marcel Pagnol

Two in one day? What?

Yeah, so this is my second post of the day, but it is just to post up the article I just wrote for the Observer.

I love writing these last minute columns, but I can never think of anything to write about. Consequently, I tend to ask for topic ideas from friends. The suggestions I get are all over the map. Here are a few of them: “Write about politics.” “Write about people going to college just so they can get more money in later jobs.” “Write about how Ninjas are better than Pirates.” “Write about how Jason Keller and George White are the sexiest men on campus.”

Now, some of these topics are completely stupid (I mean, everyone knows Pirates are better), but sometimes a topic clicks with me and I can run with it. Three people suggested various Hollywood topics to me. These ranged from Britney Spears’s recent head shaving to why Vince Vaughn was responsible for Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston’s divorce. After quickly dismissing these things as topics, it struck me how sad it was that Hollywood gossip was the most popular topic suggestion.

Not one person I talked to mentioned Iran, the peace summit with Israel and the Palestinian authority, the multiple outbreaks of salmonella infected foods, or the asteroid that threatens to impact with Earth in 2036 (it is true people).

No, I got suggestions regarding Anna Nicole Smith, Britney Spears, and Brad Pitt. Is this what our society has come to? Well, apparently the answer to that question is yes, because as looking at the “Most Popular” news articles on Google, I find that 6 out of the top 10 stories are about Sports or Hollywood.

What is it about Hollywood celebrities that so enthralls our culture? Is it the flashiness and glamour of their lifestyle that makes them seem more important than global politics? Is it that they make more money in one year than most families will make in a lifetime for pretending to be other people?

Here I am complaining about this phenomenon, but at the same time, I am fueling it. Earlier in this article I wrote about various things that have happened recently in Hollywood. Now, unfortunately, I think this article will spawn more conversations about them than about the truly important events in our world.

I will just leave you with this question: Do you know what brand of peanut butter has been recalled because of salmonella? If not, you may want to start looking at news stories that are a little more important than “which celebrity just had a breakdown/breakup/breaksomething”.

Heh, I rock. Also, Trips is amazing.

Cognitive Dissonance Sucks

Just a little blurb here.

Don't you just hate it when you disagree with yourself?

I mean, part of you wants to think or do one thing, and another part of you is vehemently against it. What do you listen to? Do you listen to the rational, calm, and intellectual side or do you listen to the spontaneous, heartfelt, and emotional side? How do you decide which part of yourself is in the right? Or should you just flip a coin and go with the winner?

. . . I dunno. . . I am just rambling.

One quick quote that I thought of when I was contemplating my cognitive dissonance:

If your head tells you one thing, and your heart tells you another, before you do anything, you should first decide whether you have a better head or a better heart. - Marilyn vos Savant

C’est mon vie

Ok, I originally wrote up a post with this basic topic on Wednesday night/Thursday morning, but for some reason it didn’t post on my blog like it should have. I haven’t been in a blogging mood the past couple days, so I waited till now to write it up again.

Hindsight - recognition of the realities, possibilities, or requirements of a situation, event, decision etc., after its occurrence

Yeah. As I said in a post back in June, hindsight can be a real bitch, but hindsight can also be helpful. Hindsight can cut through all the bullshit of life and let you know that you have done the right thing in certain situations.

Looking back at my life, I am glad to say that for the most part I have made the right decisions. When I was a kid, I read and learned instead of sitting around watching TV and movies 24/7 (I only spent 18/7 doing that). When I was in middle and high school I didn’t go out and get drunk every weekend like so many of my classmates did. I came to Saint Joseph’s College and made some of the best friends I have ever had.

Unfortunately, there is one area of my life in which I haven’t always made the best choices. I repeatedly make bad choices in this area, and I don’t seem to learn from my past mistakes in the slightest.

This area is of course . . . women. BJ and I were talking about our past history with women and the guy actually made a comment worthy of quoting for something other than shock value.

“If you would just stop existing, I would stop falling for you. . .”

(Ok, I added that ellipses at the end because he actually said, “If you would just stop existing, I would stop falling for you, bitch”, but then he said, “Nah, just kidding take the bitch off that.”)

But he was right, that is how I have always dealt with my feelings for women. I have always developed romantic feelings, and then when it doesn’t work out I retain the feelings. For some reason I can’t explain, I just don’t let go. I have always clung to the feelings, perhaps clinging to some vain hope that if I keep feeling that way, it will change things. I have done this for more years than I would like to remember. It is unhealthy, and now that I look back at it, I am somewhat scared by it. Why would I do such things to myself? I can’t answer that, but hopefully I will never have to again.

Now that I have said that, I can also honestly say that I am not doing it anymore. I am learning from my mistakes, and the change feels good.

Some lyrics to wrap up this post:

Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside.
Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...
Lithium, I want to stay in love with my sorrow.

Don't want to let it lay me down this time.
Drown my will to fly.
Here in the darkness I know myself.
Can't break free until I let it go.
Let me go.

Darling, I forgive you after all.
Anything is better than to be alone.
And in the end I guess I had to fall.
Always find my place among the ashes.

I can't hold on to me,
Wonder what's wrong with me.

Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside.
Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...
Lithium, ...stay in love with my sorrow.
I'm gonna let it go.

Ok, I lied, that isn’t the end. Just because I haven’t used it since my New Year’s post, my favorite quote:

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” – Neil Gaiman

I’ve never been so alone. . ./She can ask for the truth. . ./Politics. . .

Ok, so this is going to be a three part post. I am not sure if any of the parts will be all that long, but oh well.

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. . . And I’ve never been so alive.

Those are lyrics from Third Eye Blind’s “Motorcycle Dive By”. Not only is that song one of my all time favorites, but right now it also fits my mood.

As the lyrics say, I’ve never been so alone. . . well I have been, hell I have lived the majority of my life as alone as I am now, but what I mean is that I am just by myself now. Lately I have been relying on others less. I have been whining about life less. I’m spending time to myself when I could be out with friends. I’m not becoming a hermit by any means, but I am just not as connected to my friends as I once was.

And funnily enough, I haven’t felt this happy and relaxed in a long time. I am finally learning how to do what is best for George. I’m stopping myself from saying/doing stupid things that feed the emotional masochist in me. I’m finally content with being single. Do I wish I wasn’t? Sure. Do I see certain people and think, “what if?” Every single day, but I don’t let it get me down. I don’t let the fact that I am alone rule my life anymore. I enjoy what I have, and I have stopped dwelling on what I don’t.

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. . . But she’ll never believe you.

Why do women not believe a single word out of a guy’s mouth? It can be about anything, and they still won’t believe.

Take this even that happened twice in the past two weeks with me -

Woman - “Is this test going to be hard?”

Me - “Not really, that professor’s test are normally pretty easy.”

Woman - “Are you sure? Should I study more than I normally do?”

Me – “No really, they tend to be really straightforward if you have read the stuff and looked at your notes.”

Woman – “But you are smart, what you think is easy is probably really hard.”

Me – “*Sigh* . . . I quit.”

What was there not to believe in that exchange? Was there some hidden message I was transmitting that made them believe I was lying to them to sabotage them? How about this conversation that I had (again twice, but about VERY different things) –

Woman – “How did I do?”

Me – “You did really well.”

Woman – “Are you just saying that?”

Me – “No, you really did a good job.”

Woman – “You are just saying that because I am your friend.”

Me – “No, really. I mean it. You did a good job. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

Woman – “. . . Okay.”

Me – “*Resigned sigh*”

I don’t know what it is, and maybe it is just me, but for some reason it seems that women have an underlying distrust of anything said by a man. Have we as a society so fully blackened the reputation of men that nothing they say is believable?

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This third section is only going to be a few sentences. Politics belong only in the political world. Leave them out of things involving talent and skill. . . Grah!

Now a quote and some lyrics from the two songs used as titles.

Your feelings may be as clear as traffic light signals, but what if the person watching you is color-blind? So, tell them how you feel.

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Motorcycle Drive By – Third Eye Blind

Visions of you on a motorcycle drive by,
The cigarette ash flies in your eyes, and you don’t mind, you smile,
And say the world doesn’t fit with you.
I don’t believe you, you’re so serene.
Careening through the universe, your axis on a tilt, you’re guiltless and free,
I hope you take a piece of me with you,
And there’s things Id like to do that you don’t believe in,
I would like to build something, but you’d never see it happen
And there’s this burning, like there’s always been,
I’ve never been so alone, and I’ve, I’ve never been so alive,

And there’s this burning, ah ha, there was this burning.

. . . .

I go home to the coast. It starts to rain, I paddle out on the water alone,
Taste the salt and taste the pain. I’m not thinking of you again,
Summer dies and swells rise, the sun goes down in my eyes, see this rolling wave, darkly coming to take me, home,
And I never been so alone, and I’ve never been so alive.

-----

She’s Always A Woman – Billy Joel

She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me

She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me

CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind

And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me

CHORUS

She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me