Why I Do This Thing

Since my freshman year of high school, I've kept fairly dedicated journals. I had a colossal amount of teen angst and heavy destructive crushes, and so writing became the outlet in which to pour out some of my anxiety.

I had an odd inspiration the other day to dig out some of my old notebooks. And I have to say: my younger self has amazed me.

For one thing, my writing several years ago is so much better than I thought it was. Despite the fact that it never really follows any kind of structure or rules, and especially despite the fact that it conveys my embarrassing teenage girl attitude, I find it incredibly moving.

It's pure.
It's honest.
It's flawed and painful and confused, but at times it's some of the most beautiful stuff I've ever read.

Yeah. Arrogant. I know.

But this is why I write.

There's something about sitting down and sorting through your own words that is more truthful and clean than any other kind of communication.

Maybe it's just me. But I have a hard time writing without pouring out a good portion of my soul. And that has just about always been the case.

So much of my teenage ranting was written almost with a sense of shame, a fear that I'd grow up to look back on that writing as something silly and stupid, and that I'd have some crazy urge to destroy and forget it all.

And yeah. There's a lot of insignificant crap in those notebooks.
There's a lot of pain and confusion that I probably could have avoided.

But it's an amazing thing. That writing was probably the most honest and accurate reflection of myself and my thoughts. And no matter what that is, it's going to be beautiful.

I think most human beings have a hard time not absolutely loving sincerity. When I think about the people that I love and respect most, a good number of them aren't particularly very nice or friendly people. Some of them are, in fact, outright assholes most of the time.

But they know who they are. So gosh darn it, they're going to be it.

And that's what I find so shockingly beautiful about my old teen-angst ridden self. I couldn't be anything but that. While sometimes stupid and terribly misguided, it was still something real. Something pure. And like I said -- it's pretty hard not to love something like that.

So it inspires me to keep doing this thing.

I continually say I like to write; and somehow I've earned in my circle of friends the big title of “Writer.”

But here's a secret:
All I do is this journal thing.
That's it.

I take the mess of thought in my head and I throw it down on paper. Then I move on and forget about it.

No cute little stories. No poetry. No fiction.
No published work. Hah.

But somehow, this is enough. The random snippets of excessive thought and emotion are somehow more beautiful than anything I could think of or create on my own.

In most cases, I think truth is the most beautiful, incredible, and astounding thing out there. So it's what I'm going to stick with for now.

The best-selling work of fiction might come later.
(Again, hah.)

What I find especially hopeful is that in another three years I'll look back on my writing of today and be totally amazed again.

Not that I'm discovering all kinds of daily epiphanies or anything.
I just think I'm always going through something amazing.
Always.

Life is like that. It rarely makes any kind of logical sense. We plow through it without any kind of clear idea of where we're going. Through pain and through joy, we keep on doing this, and somehow, in the midst of it all, there is something beautiful.

Unfortunately, that's the best I can try to describe it.
And that simple phrase “Life is beautiful” doesn't quite seem to be enough here.

But it is. Life is beautiful. Despite everything.

I could go on, but I'd run myself into circles. I'm not the best candidate to write philosophical wonderings on life's inherent beauty.

All I know is that it's there.
And it's why I write.

So, like I said: let's keep doing this thing.

:)

Progress

Okay

...

Have I been really busy since the last time I posted April 20, 2009?

Actually, I kind of have.

And April 20, 2009 feels like it was six lifetimes ago.

There have been a few monumental events.

But for the most part, I've just been doing my thing. Progressing.

I just finished the first quarter of my second year at DU.
My good GPA is sliding quickly away from me. But so far, I'm surviving.

I've been working at a flower shop for over a year but that career started skyrocketing this summer. After months of menial tasks like cleaning buckets and processing flowers, I finally began that terrifying prospect of designing.

I distinctly remember several years ago, in an effort to free myself from helping with arranging flowers at church, explaining that I didn't like flowers, I couldn't make them look good, and I simply had no talent for them whatsoever.

Now, I'm designing for one of the top-rated florists in Denver.
God has a pretty good sense of humor that way.
What's even funnier is, I love it. It's my favorite job so far. It just happened to fall into my lap last summer, and here I am a year and a half later, absolutely loving it.

I'm continually amazed by the way my life progresses.

Somewhere between April 20, 2009 and now, I've been led to a much different standing with faith and God.
It's always been somewhat of a reality, but lately, It's become so much more significant. Much more continually present.
So that's been a milestone.
And in many cases, I feel like I'm viewing the world through a much clearer lens.

So today is a very, very different day than last April.

I still feel a lot of the time that I'm just hanging on to life by my fingernails. I never fully know what's going on, nor do I really have a solid idea where I'm going.
But. I have so much more of a knowledge that someone bigger and better than me is in control of things. That he'll steer me continually in the right direction.

And that's what changes everything.

It's so strange. I've grown up constantly going to church but things have finally started falling into some certain kind of place. I can't write about anything else anymore. When I used to write pages upon about the guys I had crushes on, I'm now writing about my relationship with God.

Maybe that sounds like a tacky thing to say.
But that's okay.
Because this is where I intend on staying.

It is here that life is continually surprising and continually new. Each day holds in itself a new and unique joy.

And so moving forward, while still a precarious thing, is a little less worrisome than before.

Someone bigger than us is, indeed in control.

There is joy to be had for us yet.

Dead Serious

I am realizing something. Seriousness--dead seriousness--is incredibly scary.

I mean, it actually exists.

Most of the time, I see the world as a pretty entertaining place. I like walking through sunny Denver days, singing to myself. I people watch, smiling at the way humans react with each other. I develop hysterical inside jokes with friends on a daily basis. I take excessively long coffee breaks.

I enjoy life, for a surprising majority of the time. I look at folks who are constantly worried and stressed, and think, God. Please. Chill out.

Maybe they should calm down a little bit. But life is, indeed, slightly more than coffee breaks. In fact, there's a whole hell of a lot going on here.

Recently, I've been trying to wrap my mind around this whole...existence thing.
That's not exactly something I'd advise. I mean, good luck in trying to fit the entire universe into a human mind.

There are so many shockingly important questions out there. What are we doing here? What is the purpose of life? Is there a God? What the hell does he want from us? What was he thinking, making...me? What am I supposed to do with this whole life thing?

The answer isn't exactly found in a cup of coffee.

My typical response to difficult situations is to ignore them--to shrug my shoulders and tell myself that it will all just work itself out eventually.

Here's the cryptic question : Will it?

How to Be a Normal Human Being

I commented recently, "Sometimes I just step back and look at my life. And then I see that I am so fucked up. I'm eighteen miles away from normal."

I was with one of my best high school friends at a Village Inn at 10PM, sipping coffee and eating breakfast for dinner. He just looked at me and asked, "Well, who's normal?" and I sat there staring at him for a while.

Life isn't exactly about being normal. Or fitting in. There's not a damn person on this earth who 'fits in' with anything, because there's not anything to fit in to! What kind of human should strive to fit into human made standards?

Let's face it: We're all confused. Is there anyone alive who doesn't feel thoroughly lost in at least one aspect of their life? That's what's normal -- nobody is.

A significant part of being human is being clueless. Or confused. Or scared. And yeah, kind of fucked up. I'm pretty sure we're all that way.

And while that's certainly not ideal .. In some strange way, it kind of is. It's one big unifying factor. I suffer. My friends suffer. The guy across the street suffers. There are as many different pains as there are people on this planet, and with that, who can really be "normal?"

There's no solution to this. There's no formula for complete sense, no way of finding instant nirvana. To phrase it simply, shit happens.

But ... it can be comforting to know that every person around you is probably sorting through just as much crap as you are. You're not the only one who isn't normal.

So, maybe we should just disregard the entire concept of normalcy. Maybe the best thing to do is to simply help each other out through the chaos.

Unstoppable

I'm sure it's normal to pass through phases. A few weeks ago, for instance, I developed a mild obsession with independent coffee houses. I cursed Starbucks for its omnipresence, predictability and infuriating lack of wifi. (though I'm told that it is now available?) So, I found this Denver Coffee House Blog that introduced me to a new, fascinating and independent world of caffeine. I formed a goal of visiting every independent coffee house in Denver. But then I realized that I don't want to travel much further than my local Common Grounds. With late hours, a bustling social atmosphere, free wifi, real dishes and of course GREAT coffee, I give it A-pluses all around. My travelling coffee phase has met a quick end.

Some phases, though, I'm sure will last forever. I mean, once you've discovered the energetic joy that espresso brings, you'll probably never be able to forget it. And I expect to be spending quite a bit more time and money at Common Grounds.

But like my goal to travel the city on a caffeine high, lots of these goals and little obsessions die just as quickly as they began.

I've always loved reading. On most of my school breaks I promise myself that I'll read a few books. I remember carrying home an armful of library books for the Thanksgiving weekend, certain that I'd spend hours immersed in my precious literature. I ended up reading a few chapters.

It's really easy to get these huge blazing ideas, but rarely do I actually follow through with them.
It happens, though. I'm getting better at it. At doing things, I mean. One thing I'm discovering in college is the preciousness of time. There's so much to do that I have no choice but to spend my time doing things.

What's better is, things happen! Friends happen! Fun happens! Fights happen! Life gets hot, life gets cold, but I can't remember the last time I really had a lukewarm moment. It's thrilling.

*****

I started this entry with the intention of writing about music. And ... my words just wouldn't go in that direction. Now I'm staring at a page of these random rantings about coffee and life's temperature?

I confuse myself. But what's cool is, I teach myself when I write. I don't mean to. But sometimes I'll write something down that surprises me. Somehow, I suddenly and randomly write some profound and random little thought that I never knew I had. And then I remember it forever.

It's a win-win-win situation. The phases. The writing. The coffee shops. Life in general. And it just keeps going.

Life Gone Virtual

I think more than I should about my facebook status line.

When I have random flashes of inspiration throughout the day, I'm often tempted to run to the computer and broadcast my vitally important message to my facebook friends. Then, I have to remind myself that the majority of life -- no, the entirety of it -- lies right before my eyes and not behind my computer screen.

It's kind of sad, actually, that I pick up a good amount of my gossip from what my friends say in these daily, sometimes hourly little sentences on their facebooks.

But it's such a wonderful concept. How did our parents ever cope without it? I have a hard time understanding how they could possibly have led fulfilling young lives without knowing what that one guy from their eighth grade class did last Friday night. And how did they survive without the knowledge that their high school classmate's younger sister believes she has the BESSST MOST AMAZING BOYFRIEND in the ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!?

The internet's a beautiful thing. I just think it's disturbingly easy to hand over all your precious spare hours to looking at photos of distant friends' baby nieces or polishing up your "About Me" section. But maybe that's just me.

But I'll stop myself here. I love the internet way too much to ridicule it any longer. It's difficult to imagine a life without Wikipedia, Mapquest, Pandora, or of course those ingenious little status updates.

I just wonder what the next big thing will be ... When the internet gets old, what will my kids be wondering what I could have ever lived without? I'm almost afraid to find out.

Now You're Really Living

"I think we're more alive than everybody else," I gasped, through a fit of rampant laughter last Saturday night. My friend Brittany and I were in a McDonald's restaurant, trying to fill up our drinks, but collapsing with laughter instead. She was clutching the edge of the counter for support; I had pressed myself against the wall to keep from falling over. We could barely speak, we were laughing so hard. The reason for such wild hysterics? We'd considered ordering a "kwana-pawna" instead of a quarter pounder.

I'm sure all the restaurant workers were glancing at their watches, begging closing time to come sooner. The rest of our friends were probably sitting in silence at the table, burying their heads in their arms, ashamed to even know us.

As for Brittany and me -- Man, were we alive.

Our relationship has always been more ridiculous than anything. When we're together, we spend most of our time making up really dumb jokes and then convulsing with laughter. It's not that we're terrifically funny people; it's simply that when we're together, everything becomes funny. I can't explain exactly why.

Since we were kids, we've always made total asses of ourselves, from laughing like morons at completely inappropriate times (like during the middle of a really serious church event) to destroying other people's property (like playing "school" and filling an overhead projector with salt. Even though that was mostly you, Brittany).

We've never been anything short of completely and totally alive. This, of course, is oftentimes easier said than done. It's hard to feel things as much as you possibly can. When you laugh louder than anyone in the room you risk being seen as an obnoxious idiot. When your heart has broken, it's difficult to know if you'll ever fully recover.

But regardless, there's something liberating in feeling fully alive. Music sounds better. Writing is deeper. It becomes easier to communicate honestly with other people. You feel things. Whether it's pure pain or pure joy, you're experiencing something true, something real, and there's power in that.

For this reason, I'm grateful for crises, namely because I can look back later and say, "Oh. Good. I went through that." I'm grateful for life's occasional angst and confusion, because that terrible feeling often gives birth to real thought and even inspiration and discovery. It's life at its purest. And, of course, there are plenty of "kwana-pawnas" to enjoy along the way.

"Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough."
--William Saroyan

Spectator of My Own Life

Random Rantings

Something I’ve kept thinking lately is that life is like a movie—we’re not writing the script so much as watching to see where it goes. There are so many unanswered questions—what is the point of this movie? Will the protagonist achieve her goals? What are the protagonist’s goals, anyways? Does she know what she’s doing? Which relationships are important? Which ones will grow? Which ones will fail? What lies ahead?

Most of the movie’s plotline is shocking and completely unpredictable. I have little control over it. I have a duty to live my own life, but I can only see where I am now; the future is completely invisible and unknown.

I’m thinking about this movie while reading through my old notebooks. Reading this shit is seriously like reading a dramatic teen angst novel. Some of the stuff I’ve written makes me happy, some makes me disgusted with myself, some even makes me cry.

And I’ve got to acknowledge that life is totally arbitrary. There’s no pattern to it. There’s no exact right way to go about doing it.

I find a lot of comfort in acknowledging that I don't know much. There's a lot in life to be surprised by; I think it's great to know that the movie doesn't stop taking twists and turns. Eventually, it should lead to a happy ending.

Back To School

After six weeks of break, it's bound to be a difficult transition.

One of the most wonderful aspects of DU is its enormous Winter Break. Students are freed from all classes before Thanksgiving and don’t come back until after New Year’s.

Those six weeks flew by much faster than I thought they would. I didn’t write much during that time, mainly because it was so wonderful. See, when I write, it’s mostly because I’m holding in some unbeatable angst or energy. I didn’t have much of that over break, so…why would I write?

I realize that’s a terrible excuse.

Anyways, after weeks of sleeping and reading and holiday parties, I’ve finally had to confront the sad reality that DU does exist. I have to start doing that awful class thing again.

School’s not actually all that bad. The worst part of it is probably just waking up in the morning. Once that’s over, the rest of my day is usually quite nice. But then I have to stay up late reading boring textbooks when I’d rather be watching a movie.

But really, I do have to admit I’m kind of glad to be back in school. It keeps me very busy, and even though I’m easily stressed, I thrive on being busy.

Plus, now I’m out, about, and walking more. Walking across campus, it turns out, does wonders in making me feel less like a worthless fat-ass. With holiday cookies and chocolate lying around everywhere tempting me relentlessly, I’ve been lugging around a depressing amount of holiday weight. So now, I’ve got to say, Thank God for that interminable walk to my car every day. At this point, it’s probably saving my life.

One thing about college though—it still makes me really nervous. I’m an absolute wreck when it comes to meeting new people. Well, actually, meeting them isn’t the problem. Making acquaintances is quite easy. It’s actually liking, and even more so, trusting them that I find to be obscenely difficult.

I’ve discovered that in new groups of people, I become extremely judgmental. I made the assumption today that my professor was inept because she used the words ‘like’ and ‘lovely’ more often than necessary. I also came to the conclusion that I don’t really like white girls (which for me is a completely ridiculous thing to say, for obvious reasons). I was mad at one of my classmates with a tired face and messy hair for being a slob, even when my own hair looked like it had recently survived a tornado or two.

So I’m not exactly the greatest people person. I’d like to become a little more personable around new people, and I may try to do that. It’s just not very easy. I’m a firm believer that the best way to make real friends is to not try to do so – to simply be one’s self. And this is me: sitting in the corner, not wanting to be bothered.

It’s amazing I have any friends at all, isn’t it?

The thing is, I love people (for the most part, anyways). I just have a terrible time interacting with them.