branching out on my own.

and so it continues.

falling

It's hard enough when you decide to cut something out of your life; convincing yourself that it's for the best. But to have your decision thrown right back in your face in the most terrible of ways? That's beyond painful.

I recently spent an unexpected week in Burlington, VT. I suppose once upon a time I had thought about ending my life, but never enough to actually go and do anything about it. They were the teenage years, didn't everybody have those moments? In the end, I never really saw the point. But a friend of mine got to that particular breaking point just last week. And I knew I had to be there for him. Walking into the hospitals lock down psych ward with a fake smile plastered on my face was one of the most difficult things I've ever done.

It was a stressful week in one of the most beautiful of cities. I did what I needed to do, and know that without my presence he could still very well be laying drugged up and motionless in that sad little hospital room.

I was strong when I needed to be. Now I'm back. And I'm a wreck. Receiving numerous e-mails thanking me for what I did has only made things harder.

I just want to curl up and forget any of this ever happened.

I think I just might.

just some things

Occasionally, I go through periods of time where writing anything seems very difficult. These periods are usually characterized by a heightened state of delight in everything I do and a crazy-fast sense of time floating past me.

That is exactly what is happening now.

Whilst it happens (and whilst I enjoy it), here are a few things on my mind. I will talk about them in greater detail either through written words of the future or through whiskey pours of the future.

1. I am six pages into the latest Chuck Klosterman book, Eating the Dinosaur, and he has already articulated exactly what it is I find so compelling about interviewing strangers. Say what you will about Klosterman, and hate him because you're supposed to hate him and because he's just too snarky for you or something, but I continue to find his essays more spot-on and compelling than most things.

2. Speaking of compelling and reading books and finishing things, I finally finished Anna Karenina, fueled mostly by a certain Christiana's ridicule. I have a serious and somewhat hilarious aversion to weak female characters (it's a bad idea to ask me how I feel about Emma Bovary or the female antagonists of Hold Steady songs), so it comes as little surprise that I occasionally have trouble engaging with Anna as a character. However, my struggles with this all came to a screeching and irrelevant halt when I reached the passage where Levin decides he's going to mow the fields alongside the peasant workers.

The written word is powerful, and when it works correctly, it makes you want to throw it aside and devote yourself to sweat and labor.

3. I know what I guess amounts to a lot of people. I spend most of my days being amazed at how smart and how fun and how funny and how productive they are. This seems very simple and very stupid but it never ceases.

4. Two days before the onset of my twenty-ninth year, I would like to announce that I believe all previous versions of myself would be really very happy with how I turned out. With the possible exception of me at age four, who would be really upset that I never figured out how to be a professional mountain climber.

To her, I say "there's still time!"

i've got something to prove

I believe everyone has that one person in their life who heavily inspires them to keep pushing forward. This person isn't always a daily presence, and in my case, has only come into my life a handful of times. But the impression left runs deep.

No matter where I live or what I do, in the back of my mind I need to do these things to the greatest capacity. I'm the first to admit that I haven't necessarily been so successful with this in the past. I've been able to explore many paths and imagine where they could take me, but have then decided for one reason or another I didn't want to be where they would ultimately end.

You know those people who get stuck in one town doing one thing for their entire life? They get sucked into a rut and no matter how much they dream of getting out, they simply can't. I seem to have the opposite problem. I can't stand still for longer than a year. I attribute this to the idealistic views I've always held. Everything that I do needs to have some kind of meaning. I'm not capable of powering forward for something that lacks a soul. If it's not exactly how I believe it should be, and if there's no chance of a positive change, I don't want anything to do with it. Naive? Yes. But I can't help it. Maybe this makes me just as bad as the person in the rut. There will always be the one thing that prevents us from crossing the line that so desperately needs to be crossed.

Through all the trial and error, somewhere in my mind I know that I've got something to prove to that person; to my ultimate inspiration. Whether or not I still exist to them doesn't really matter. It's what they have come to symbolize to me. It's knowing that one day I will get to a point where, if life brings them back my way, I can walk up to them and confidently tell them what I've done and what I'm continuing to do; with no regrets. It's using them as that push to keep moving forward when maybe I'm too tired to push on my own. And I think I've finally found that something to believe in. It's a starting place, at the least; another beginning.

And we all know how good I am at beginnings.

remember me

So I went to see Remember Me, which should come as no surprise to anyone. Robert Pattinson, you really are so very pretty. This is probably the prettiest I've ever seen you. Unfortunately, your acting skills are.. well, no. I can't say it. You're just too damn pretty for me to say anything negative about.

There are only two things wrong with this scene:
1. the apartment that needs cleaning (check out those bathroom tiles - gahh)
2. Emilie de Ravin, please don't ever attempt an American accent again, you can't pull it off. I love you in Lost, but please stick to your Aussie roots.

Other than that, in all it's corny and sickeningly sweet ways, it's kind of perfection. [insert a long line of sighs here]



And yes, the movie was quite dreadful (what was up with that ending? seriously). But let's be honest, I probably would have cried if I were by myself. We all know this.

No shame, folks. No shame at all.

lost

Friends don't let friends watch Lost sans Jameson.

It's getting intense, folks. Oh, it is.

spring break

While all my co-workers are taking the next two weeks and flying to exotic places and relieving their stress before the final months of school and the dreaded parent observations and conferences that comes along with them, I'm staying in the city plowing away at my second job. As in entering any new environment, I find myself faced with the one question I cringe upon hearing. The dreaded "so what's your story?".

This is one of the most loaded questions to ask a person. I don't enjoy talking about myself to strangers, and I don't enjoy people prying into my life. Luckily I'm well versed with rotating new environments and over the years have learned how to gracefully side step it. And as loaded as this question is, the reply can be as vague or detailed as you want it to be. My standard answer goes something along these lines "Oh, you know. So what do you do?". Most people love talking about themselves, and I can usually get away with turning the spotlight over without them even noticing.

Due to the large number of employees, It's been harder to shy away from answering. To my great surprise, I have found that by giving a more straight forward answer than I ever have before, the rewards of doing so have been quite fruitious.

Who would have thought?






I leave this post with two pictures completely unrelated to what I've written about. Just because I felt like it.

The valentines I made for my students


The famous Annunciation Triptych from The Cloisters (Art History 101, folks)