What is it about humans and musical instruments? Most everyone, when they see a musical instrument, will come up and try to play it even if they don’t know how. Everyone seems drawn to the mesmerizing sensation of touching ivory keys or plucking strings and hearing them make a sound. I woke up right before work today, unwillingly got out of bed, and had about five minutes to get ready. Yet, I went out of my way to bring my guitar with me. I can’t even play it really except for a couple chords – and yet I felt like I could not survive my shift without it. Even if I did not have time to play, I still would be sad to work without my guitar by my side. It is an interesting realization. Having a guitar available to play any time almost creates a warm happy sensation. What is it about humans and musical instruments?
Today in my interpersonal communication class I saw a video about troubled marriages. It was one of those “when life comes crashing down” moments for me. All of my romantic relationships up to date (whether “official” or not) – except for one – have been worse than the troubled marriages that were shown in the video. Way worse. The people from bad marriages in the video were at least trying to do something, and were at least a little bit loving towards each other despite the tremendous problems they had. I end up with men who don’t love me, or with those I don’t love.
Though the revelation is frightening, it’s not too surprising. My parents had a crappy relationship with each other. This relationship was all I saw. Theirs is the only model I have. I did know that my model was pretty bad, but I never realized that my model was literally fucked up – with mutually abusive communication, self- and mutually-diminishing conversations, silent treatment, lots of requirements and negativity – and absolutely no love and kindness.
I doubt all of you people really needed or cared to know that about me, but I wanted to share.
Also, props to the guy who was the reason I had that “except for one” written in the post. I will be always thankful.
And, people, don’t stay in bad relationships – though I do admit, it’s hard to get out.
This is a letter from me now, to myself a few years ago, inspired by a random conversation with a freshman girl.
Emmm… hi… So, I’ve never done this before, and never really talked to you, but, you know, I should start at some point, and it might as well be now. And I wanna start with saying, I respect what you’ve been through, I respect your pain and your suffering even if you are not realizing at that point that you have suffered too much.
You run in circles. You cry out in pain, but no one hears. And then you are gonna smile wide like the happiest person on the planet, and talk my ear off and try to convince me that you are the only one best and unique person on the planet, and also the happiest and the most hurt one. None of the things you say are the things you really feel or believe in. But you can believe what you need to because that’s what gets you through the day. I cannot really make you believe anything else…
I’m just gonna say, I love you, I love you with all my heart, I love you the way you are and the way you have been every moment since you were born. You are beautiful inside and out. Yes, you have been hurt way more than you or anyone deserves, but you are a strong enough human being to deal with all of it. You will learn, you will grow stronger, and you will become a beautiful flower. You just gotta hang on.
And you will say you hate me, and you will kick me, and you will run, and you will cry, but that does not matter. I will go after you, and I will catch you, whatever it takes, and I am gonna hold you, and tell you that I love you, and you will cry, cry so much you will feel like you will die, and you will be kicking me, yelling at me that you hate me. And I am gonna let you, and I am gonna still hold you, and quietly cry with you over all they did to you and all you’ve been through, and I am gonna keep telling you I love you until you believe me, or until you fall asleep, the second being more likely. Only time will make you believe the first one.
But you can have all the time you need. And you can hurt if it hurts. That’s fine. You deserve the right to take your time, to feel your hurt, and to cry as much as you want. It is human, and it is beautiful. You are beautiful. And you are crazy strong. I know you will get through it, because I am the living proof of it. Also, I love you. I love you, because you are me, because you are my past, because you are what I am made of, because you are my life. And I will fight for you every day.
I have two months and one day until I graduate. When I actually publish this post, it will be just two months. Just two months until I am an adult person with a degree. I have no idea what the hell I’m gonna do with my degree yet. But I will have it. And I will walk my graduation. It took me a while to decide that. I didn’t wanna walk it because I thought how I’d see all those happy families and happy parents and happy students sharing their joy with their families and friends – and I was afraid that it all would remind me of how I will never be able to share this with my family because even if they were here, they would not be able to be happy for me. My family is a bunch of messed up people that hurt me a lot, and that is the only way I can perceive them – so it really hurts seeing happy families.
But screw that. Screw all that . Screw the others. It does not matter how they live their lives. I got through college. I did it myself. I did not screw up, I did not drop out. I made a bunch of mistakes, but I never gave up. Yes, I don’t agree with my mother, and I don’t wanna walk my graduation so that my fictitious future kids could see the pictures – and I should not be walking it for that reason, because it would be the wrong reason. But I do need to walk it for myself. Because I got through college. I managed to not break down. This is MY victory. This is MY celebration of MY success. I do need to walk my graduation – not for my parents, not for my friends, not for some random people, not for a bunch of fictitious kids that I am not planning to ever have. I need to walk the graduation for ME. I need to stand in that gown, facing everyone, being my own statement for myself, being the proof that I can do anything I set my mind to do, shouting just by my presence there that I did it, that I got my degree.
Recently I found a new activity – called dwelling in my house. It’s when I come to my house, put on some PJ’s, and just… dwell – using the resources of my house to not be bored. And there are more and more of those. There’s food to be made, guitar songs to be learned, books to be read, plants to be pruned, videogames, stargate, other random shows that I need to catch up with, then there’s facebook, and homework, and there’s also my blog, and just my computer – and an infinite availability of hot drinks like tea and apple cider. And there’s heat and blankets. And curtains. Those are important – they help me hide from the sun. And yes, there’s no people around. Except for my fridge that makes too much noise and does not get beat up just because it is not a person – but then again, no self-respecting person would stand in a corner and not be bored with making a constant rattling noise – or whatever the noise that fridges make is called.
The value of dwelling increases exponentially with really bad weather (which can be snow, or wind, or rain, or bright sunlight, or a combination of those) and with the decrease of my brain’s ability to enjoy being surrounded by people.
Maybe I should stop writing philosophical speeches about dwelling, and go take a nap instead…
Mmm… Hi there people. Been awhile. BUT! I finally have an inspiration – or at least I think I do… (even though I should not wait for inspiration in order to start writing, but whatever).
I had an interesting day. I’m not really sure when my day started: when my alarm went off, or after I ate a warm delicious breakfast of farm fresh eggs sunny-side-up and bacon – or maybe it was later in the afternoon when I was done talking to all the people I needed to go see and finally had the rest of the day all to myself. I’ll take a leap and assume it was the third one, because all the important stuff I had to do was also stressful stuff, and, therefore, boring.
After the boring part was over, the fun part began. I got to go to Old Main (a local bar), and do homework while slowly consuming some delicious alcohol. Doing homework did not seem like a fun idea until after two drinks (now that does not really make sense), so instead I started out my evening by reading a few… dozen… pages of the Mortal Instruments off my new kindle, while sipping on my red beer (which was a little too cold for the weather) – and thinking how I have to have addictions in my life that distract me from homework – be it tv shows or books or videogames or … even cleaning house. Then it started raining outside, and I ordered a delicious Bailey’s coffee, and by the middle of that I decided that it was time to look at my homework. I started up with slowly writing up citations for my past due papers (citations are the scariest part of writing papers) – and gradually moved on to researching possible topics for my big paper (that is, too, scarier than the paper itself). I dug around some peer-reviewed journals (wishing that those peers had something more fun to do than reviewing the stupid journals), and then remembered seeing Eastern Redcedar turning pastures into forests just that past weekend – and came up with a happy topic. That all made me feel accomplished for the day.
The end of the day was equally beautiful. I made steak for supper. That was the second steak I’ve ever cooked in my life, and it was much better than the first one – now I’m just hoping I’m not gonna die. I’m pretty sure I won’t – but I never made a medium steak before, so it was just a little scary. Then I picked up my guitar (which I really should be doing more often) and tried to learn Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something – hopefully without waking up my neighbors. I also realized I had no idea where my capo was – which I did not really need, but I don’t like losing it – which means I really gotta clean my house.
Now I’m sitting in my recliner (stupid, stupid, uncomfortable recliner) and thinking how much I hate that recliner – and that I probably should not have been drinking coffee in the -pm- hours. And that I’m gonna have to be walking around all shaggy for at least 3 more weeks because my hair stylist is booked till November. grrr…