Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Shuffle Mode
It takes me a while to articulate what I want to say, but I'll tell you this now: I sure as hell don't want to lose you.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Gracious Afflictions
I’ve walked down this road in the past. I know it. I’ve seen that sign of uncertainty so many times before and these red flags are all too familiar. Stopping mid-step, I realize that I’m not going anywhere with this situation at all. I’m not fully satisfied, not learning from my mistakes, and not making any improvements. Then it hit me. I’ve have been walking in circles. Exasperated, I begin to run. Angry at myself for walking right back into square one, I run aimlessly down unfamiliar avenues until I am surrounded by nothing but my own fear.
I run until I can’t handle facing any more of my fears and I settle to a sudden stop. I’m tired and completely lost now that I’m outside of my comfort zone. My legs are fatigued from trying to escape my mistakes, and my heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. I slow down, and begin to walk blindly in the direction of nowhere. I try to convince myself, “This is good; this is what you wanted. You wanted something different, and this is far from ordinary.”
“This is good…”
Yet, no matter how “good” this seems to be, I can’t stop myself from looking back and re-living the past. As I become immersed in my distractions, I forget to watch where I’m going, and I walk straight into a wall of doubt. I hit my head hard and fall to the ground, face-first into a mass of confusion. I lay there for awhile, letting the pain of the impact travel through my body. After awhile I get up, brush off my knees, and turn to examine the source of my fall: that patronizing wall of doubt. It’s not that tall, about two months high, nineteen years long, and indefinitely wide. I can’t find a way around this wall, so I climb the two months, sit down on my doubt, trying to figure out how I got here and how to get out.
Not long ago, I made a decision to take on this journey. So far it has been as pleasant as it is unpredictable. Along this road I’ve stopped by some good conversation, taking with me useful souvenirs like: charm, trust, compassion, and sophistication (to name a few). I spent my nights entangled with lust, and my mornings were calm and complacent. It wasn’t until recently that my old habit decided to kick in. I don’t know why I constantly feel the need to look back.
A breeze flows through the atmosphere, and the cold air provokes a stinging pain coming from my knee. I look down and notice a scrape that was not there before my fall. It’s a minor wound; nothing like the outcome of my past endeavors that cut me so deep the scars will never fade. This is a surface wound that leaves the skin underneath not bleeding, but simply exposed and vulnerable to virtually every infection that comes its way. I stare at it a bit longer and realize that skin is about as raw as the past two months have been for me. Now I realize how I got here. A voice sounds in my head.
“I’m not worried about whether things work out or not.”
Those words keep ringing in my head, “I’m not worried… I’m not worried… I’m not worried…” I was never meant to hear them, but somehow, through the nature of gossip, they got to me. Now I’m sitting here not only confused, but completely hurt. Why didn’t I realize this before? This road I’ve been taking ultimately leads to nowhere, and I feel like I’ve been wasting my time and energy pursuing whatever it is that I’m after. I’m the only one who cares about whether or not things work out, so the smart choice would be to get out now. The problem is I’m determined to make everything work out, no matter how much it hurts me. Quitting isn’t a part of my nature; however stubbornness takes up the majority of it.
I guess in order to get out of that agonizing routine I’ve been repeating for most of my life, I needed to take different paths. Not like it did anything. It just led me straight into a wall which resulted in an aching head and a sharp pain in my knee.
My knee.
That’s it! I’ve been so elusive, so cautious and unwilling to open up. No wonder I haven't been making any progress. Like the wound on my knee, I need to match the pain of my wounds to the raw nature of the journey I’ve been taking. I need to be more exposed. Revealing my true character and exposing the reason behind it is going to sting a little, but the reward is that I’ll only become a stronger, more statisfied person. Now that I’ve figured out how to handle my situation, I need figure out how to get out of this place. I look around, trying to asses how far this “wall” stretches. Then I realize that it’s not a wall I’ve been sitting on, but a step.
I understand now. My doubt has been nothing but a step in my life that I needed to overcome. I get up once again, face in the direction of reassurance and walk over my doubt. I’m ready to fix this... no matter how much it stings.
I run until I can’t handle facing any more of my fears and I settle to a sudden stop. I’m tired and completely lost now that I’m outside of my comfort zone. My legs are fatigued from trying to escape my mistakes, and my heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest. I slow down, and begin to walk blindly in the direction of nowhere. I try to convince myself, “This is good; this is what you wanted. You wanted something different, and this is far from ordinary.”
“This is good…”
Yet, no matter how “good” this seems to be, I can’t stop myself from looking back and re-living the past. As I become immersed in my distractions, I forget to watch where I’m going, and I walk straight into a wall of doubt. I hit my head hard and fall to the ground, face-first into a mass of confusion. I lay there for awhile, letting the pain of the impact travel through my body. After awhile I get up, brush off my knees, and turn to examine the source of my fall: that patronizing wall of doubt. It’s not that tall, about two months high, nineteen years long, and indefinitely wide. I can’t find a way around this wall, so I climb the two months, sit down on my doubt, trying to figure out how I got here and how to get out.
Not long ago, I made a decision to take on this journey. So far it has been as pleasant as it is unpredictable. Along this road I’ve stopped by some good conversation, taking with me useful souvenirs like: charm, trust, compassion, and sophistication (to name a few). I spent my nights entangled with lust, and my mornings were calm and complacent. It wasn’t until recently that my old habit decided to kick in. I don’t know why I constantly feel the need to look back.
A breeze flows through the atmosphere, and the cold air provokes a stinging pain coming from my knee. I look down and notice a scrape that was not there before my fall. It’s a minor wound; nothing like the outcome of my past endeavors that cut me so deep the scars will never fade. This is a surface wound that leaves the skin underneath not bleeding, but simply exposed and vulnerable to virtually every infection that comes its way. I stare at it a bit longer and realize that skin is about as raw as the past two months have been for me. Now I realize how I got here. A voice sounds in my head.
“I’m not worried about whether things work out or not.”
Those words keep ringing in my head, “I’m not worried… I’m not worried… I’m not worried…” I was never meant to hear them, but somehow, through the nature of gossip, they got to me. Now I’m sitting here not only confused, but completely hurt. Why didn’t I realize this before? This road I’ve been taking ultimately leads to nowhere, and I feel like I’ve been wasting my time and energy pursuing whatever it is that I’m after. I’m the only one who cares about whether or not things work out, so the smart choice would be to get out now. The problem is I’m determined to make everything work out, no matter how much it hurts me. Quitting isn’t a part of my nature; however stubbornness takes up the majority of it.
I guess in order to get out of that agonizing routine I’ve been repeating for most of my life, I needed to take different paths. Not like it did anything. It just led me straight into a wall which resulted in an aching head and a sharp pain in my knee.
My knee.
That’s it! I’ve been so elusive, so cautious and unwilling to open up. No wonder I haven't been making any progress. Like the wound on my knee, I need to match the pain of my wounds to the raw nature of the journey I’ve been taking. I need to be more exposed. Revealing my true character and exposing the reason behind it is going to sting a little, but the reward is that I’ll only become a stronger, more statisfied person. Now that I’ve figured out how to handle my situation, I need figure out how to get out of this place. I look around, trying to asses how far this “wall” stretches. Then I realize that it’s not a wall I’ve been sitting on, but a step.
I understand now. My doubt has been nothing but a step in my life that I needed to overcome. I get up once again, face in the direction of reassurance and walk over my doubt. I’m ready to fix this... no matter how much it stings.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Desiring the Unattainable
He tells me about himself, about his life, his background, and why he is the way he is. He tells me about his family and about the life he is living now; I can see that he wants out, he wants to be taken away from this mess. Somehow he manages to hold himself together, but inside he is shattered to pieces. She comes to me asking why he hasn't called, wondering what he's doing at this very moment, and if she should even worry about investing anymore time into pursuing him. She doesn't understand, and all she sees is herself, and what she wants. If I could only show her what he sees, let her feel what he feels, then maybe she would overcome this petty grudge and let him carry on with his dysfunctional life. Alas, that is not the case in this pitiful game of pursuit.
I know what's going on, but I am not at liberty to disclose anything that I was entrusted with. It's a thankless life that I live, in which I am constantly stuck to a thread of one person's secrets that somehow intertwines with the life another. Ultimately, this creates a web of disclosure in which I have the misfortune of being caught in the middle of.
To this day, I still cannot not put a finger on why everyone around me feels the need to spill their problems upon me, like I'm some sort of bottomless vessel available to anyone to use. It is times like these in which I feel the need to have a cathartic moment all to myself.
My friends wonder why I blow them off to stay at home and do nothing. It's not because I don't appreciate their company; it's just, in order to rejuvenate myself, I need to retreat into my own world where I can finally deal with my own problems, and have my peace of mind all to myself. In the ideal world of Tina Land, that would all fall under nicely, but in the real world, where techonolgy plays a significant role in the disruption of my solitude, people manage to pester me with their problems even if I'm not physically around them. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted by this phenomenon. Has anyone ever bothered to ask me what's going on with me? What's going on with my life? What's been on my mind lately?
Never before have I felt more trapped in my own skin. I would give anything to live the life of another person just for a day. I believe that would be rather liberating, but, since I am indefinitely stuck in this life of mine, I should just deal with the issues I have in front of me. My current issue? Relationships. Over the past week or so, I've been thinking to myself about the aspect of relationships. There are the kinds that give you comfort in knowing you will always have someone to cry to at four in the morning, and those that supply you with guidance and support for the bigger things in life. Some relationships are strictly based on your monetary dependence, and others go far beyond the unset boundaries of love.
Relationships are vastly unique, each composed of its own elements that make up the structure of a solid bond. They vary on both sides of the spectrum from being extremely uninhibited and void of all secrets, to being utterly shallow and, at times, rather tense. However, there are those relationships that float around in the middle, waiting to be noticed. These are the bonds that, ideally, are free from the bounds of emotional, social, and even sexual tension. Relationships that are free from such tension should often induce the least amount of stress and, most of the time, are the ideal relationship otherwise known as: friendship. Of course, like any other failed love story, there is always something that gets in between of achieving that perfect friendship. In my case, that something is none other than the Y chromosome.
I have gone through life not only searching for true love, but, above that, true friendship. It's safe to say that I have found some of the best friends I could ever ask for, but I wish that all friendships were completely innocent and free of elusive wonder. For me, a simple friendship with a man is perfectly normal, however for others, it is virtually impossible. This got me to thinking about the relationships taking place around me with those who are my age. I know I'm not the only one who wonders about this, and I'm not the only one who seeks an answer.
In today's society of the economically-deprived college scene, where the lost souls of the adolescent youth are striving to find their true identities, I find it safe to ask: can a man and a woman ever maintain a platonic relationship?
I know what's going on, but I am not at liberty to disclose anything that I was entrusted with. It's a thankless life that I live, in which I am constantly stuck to a thread of one person's secrets that somehow intertwines with the life another. Ultimately, this creates a web of disclosure in which I have the misfortune of being caught in the middle of.
To this day, I still cannot not put a finger on why everyone around me feels the need to spill their problems upon me, like I'm some sort of bottomless vessel available to anyone to use. It is times like these in which I feel the need to have a cathartic moment all to myself.
My friends wonder why I blow them off to stay at home and do nothing. It's not because I don't appreciate their company; it's just, in order to rejuvenate myself, I need to retreat into my own world where I can finally deal with my own problems, and have my peace of mind all to myself. In the ideal world of Tina Land, that would all fall under nicely, but in the real world, where techonolgy plays a significant role in the disruption of my solitude, people manage to pester me with their problems even if I'm not physically around them. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted by this phenomenon. Has anyone ever bothered to ask me what's going on with me? What's going on with my life? What's been on my mind lately?
Never before have I felt more trapped in my own skin. I would give anything to live the life of another person just for a day. I believe that would be rather liberating, but, since I am indefinitely stuck in this life of mine, I should just deal with the issues I have in front of me. My current issue? Relationships. Over the past week or so, I've been thinking to myself about the aspect of relationships. There are the kinds that give you comfort in knowing you will always have someone to cry to at four in the morning, and those that supply you with guidance and support for the bigger things in life. Some relationships are strictly based on your monetary dependence, and others go far beyond the unset boundaries of love.
Relationships are vastly unique, each composed of its own elements that make up the structure of a solid bond. They vary on both sides of the spectrum from being extremely uninhibited and void of all secrets, to being utterly shallow and, at times, rather tense. However, there are those relationships that float around in the middle, waiting to be noticed. These are the bonds that, ideally, are free from the bounds of emotional, social, and even sexual tension. Relationships that are free from such tension should often induce the least amount of stress and, most of the time, are the ideal relationship otherwise known as: friendship. Of course, like any other failed love story, there is always something that gets in between of achieving that perfect friendship. In my case, that something is none other than the Y chromosome.
I have gone through life not only searching for true love, but, above that, true friendship. It's safe to say that I have found some of the best friends I could ever ask for, but I wish that all friendships were completely innocent and free of elusive wonder. For me, a simple friendship with a man is perfectly normal, however for others, it is virtually impossible. This got me to thinking about the relationships taking place around me with those who are my age. I know I'm not the only one who wonders about this, and I'm not the only one who seeks an answer.
In today's society of the economically-deprived college scene, where the lost souls of the adolescent youth are striving to find their true identities, I find it safe to ask: can a man and a woman ever maintain a platonic relationship?
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