I strongly suspect that given half a chance, even a quarter of a chance, I could adapt to living completely outside. Provided there were hot springs. Because there is nothing like a hot bath. I love the outdoors. Wholly.
A few things from my sleep-deprived red- eye flighted- body before I drift to sleep for 10 hours and forget...
I hope I always will put personal comfort aside for adventure.
I hope that no matter how long it takes, I will stop fearing and start jumping.
I don't want to forget the sound of a thousand bees humming into their flowers or the sound of the absence of cars. I never want to forget the vista of the ocean and mountains from a mountaintop, or the splash of freezing cold water from a tall rainbowy waterfall at my back.
I never want to forget the stars, splattered across the inky heavens with perfectly placed aplomb.
I want the memories of the past four days to soak into my core and reside there, to create a deep, rich mulch for my soul.
There is no healing like being surrounded by friends, old friends, friends who laugh and laugh and laugh with you...
and dance with you, and hike with you, and get lost with you, and drink with you, and eat with you, and ask ridiculous questions and pose impossible ideas with you, who clothe and feed and love you.
One of the things I like about myself is my sieve-like memory. My sister is constantly reminding me of us growing up- telling me all these stories that I have no recollection of. I remember what I want, but am great at forgetting whatever I no longer wish to remember. Because of this poor memory, I don't really carry grudges- I've never really been mad at someone for very long. I just can't remember all the reasons why I was mad at them... although I do learn lessons. I've learned it is impossible to remain friends with everyone, and sometimes it is not in my best interest to remain friends. Part of my reason for writing this blog is so that I remember things that I want to remember. And what follows is something I never want to forget.
If you can't tell from my vague words in previous posts, a relationship in my life recently ended. This has never really happened to me before, and I was kind of intrigued to see how long it would take me to "get over" it and "move on." Well, I've got to tell you, it didn't take long.
I had one moment a while back where some young hipster boys on the train were talking about their band, and how they should set up their speakers, and wondering if they should wear capes, of all things, and it was hilarious and exactly the sort of thing I would have texted him, but then I realized... I had at least 5 other friends that I could text at that exact same moment and they would have enjoyed the story just as much. And then I realized, I was over him. I didn't need him. But then, you see, I never did.
So while my memory may and probably will completely forget him one day maybe 20 years from now, I will take my lessons, and cling to them dearly and use them wisely. And if he should bob to the surface of my thoughts or memories, I will simply look at him as a curiosity, and remember a relationship when I should have spoken sooner than I did, and then let it, and him, drift away... and whisper quietly to myself... never mind.
Photo from Milwaukee Art Museum- can't remember the artist but look at that care in sculpting that back! Quite perfect, I hope some day to sculpt like that!!
My brother sent me this video today...
I have a tendency to pick things up, throw myself into them, and then let it fade away. Are any of you like that? Do you know what I mean? Perhaps the best example of this are my iPhone app obsessions- when I first got my phone I couldn't put down Angry Birds, then I got addicted to Plants vs Zombies (beat it twice), then TapZoo (didn't last long) then Pocket Frogs (completely pointless), then Cut the Rope, then Trade Nations, and now Words with Friends (I will win. I must win.). I got my phone in October of last year. I play these games incessantly for awhile (indeterminate) and then, get bored with them, and stop completely. Is this normal?
I think realizing this has helped me see that I do this in nearly every other area of my life as well. I've started learning guitar I can't remember how many times, I tried Russian for awhile, and flute, piano, triathlons, sculpture, painting, yoga, pilates, tried surfing, jewelry making, kayaking, track, gotten into history, medicine, ballet, religion, the classics, reading, programming, and now French. (again). Some things last for years. Some things last for days. Some things I come back to on and off. I am an expert of none of these things, but enjoy them all, still.
I'm trying to change that... for whatever reason. I enjoy picking up new things and getting a taste of them and then picking up another new thing- it's the newness that is appealing. And sure, I would like to dedicate all the time in the world to each skill, but it's just not realistic. I also like to do 1.2 million things at once. Multi-tasking? yes, please. In fact, it's the only way I operate. I don't prioritize. I like to try it all, at once. Bring it! More of it! I cannot be appeased!
But this leaves me frustrated that I don't improve at anything, frustrated that I have no time for anything, and frustrated that I have so many hobbies and so few skillz. I love to learn. But the discipline to sit and master something...
Ah well. This is who I am. I'm learning French now on the train and on my bike rides to work in Lake Bluff, where I can repeat adieu and bonjour and ca va tres bien, merci. Et toi? to myself outloud in a ridiculous French accent and no one is around to hear except for the squirrels and birds. I love it. I love learning a new language (again). I want, desperately, to master it. Will I? I hope so. I start every new thing that I learn with the naive hope that I will become an expert, that I will become a famous (or, at least, proficient) singer/songwriter/guitarplayer/artist/history buff/doctor/kayaker/ballerina/triathloner/etc, self-taught, in a few short weeks/months/years. I sincerely believe that I will be fluent(ish) in French by the time I'm 30 (1.5 years away). Otherwise, I wouldn't start at all.
Even though I realize, odds are, I won't ever get past a few words in French. I still try. I still throw myself into it, even if for a short while. I just can't live my life holding back, believing I will never master whatever I decide to start. Believing this relationship won't work out. Believing the next relationship won't work out. Believing I will never dominate at anything, or never grow past all my faults, never finish my research, or never read all of Tolstoy's works some day. I have the highest expectations for life, for everything, for everyone.
I just simply can't help it. I am brimming with hope (right now).
I think this applies somewhat to this post (although I didn't talk much about my overwhelming need to create things, along with learning things- although I feel the same about learning as I do about creating) and so I leave you with one of my favorite quotes:
"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating." Pearl S. Buck
This week has been filling me up with stress. It started Monday morning, with crippling nausea. The nausea usually passes by the afternoon, but it makes it very hard to get out of bed. But the odd part is I'm not even sure what's making me soooo stressed out, other than the failure of research not getting done this semester, and the drama of resolved issues leaving my life, and my mind needs to fill all that thinking-space up with something else? I don't know. It sort of feels like I've been shook up, and the aftershocks are still going through my being.
Not very fun.
I've been writing a lot- a few pages every day on the train, and of course here in my blog. I've also been organizing my room at night, and cleaning, adjusting everything after I switched it all up last week. Somehow this makes me feel better.
I think also some of this comes from so many things I want to accomplish that I can't even prioritize right now. Things I am looking forward to this summer:
1. Finishing my research at the end of June. 2. Beach volleyball team! 3. Soccer team! 4. Ballet and hip hop classes and possibly swing classes 5. Pottery 6. Triathlons (2) 7. Trips to CA, STL, Eau Claire, Kansas City (?), MS, and prob Boston 8. Updating my portfolio 9. One month of Bikram yoga (thanks Groupon!) 10. Camping!!
Too much, yes? With a full time job and 3 hours of commuting every day? oy.
This could definitely possibly most absolutely be the source of my stress.
Images of soaking up the sun at my parent's house this weekend. I drank it in deep thirsty gulps while sending emails, journaling, reading, petting the dog, watching two robins fight and a male cardinal chase a female, and listening to the sounds of kids hunting for Easter eggs. I drank it in through my skin and hair and it went straight to my soul where it bleached the dark spots the last month left. I felt cleansed. Part of nature again. Whole.
On Saturday I drank deep the Milwaukee Art Museum's Calatrava with a friend. Sharing art, sharing our shocking lives.
I imagine the inside of my soul (and yours!) looks like this Calatrava- all blues and whites and glass and marble and water and graceful arches of steel.
This past weekend I took a bus trip 7 hours round trip to Madison, Wisconsin- the capital of the best state in the union. I needed to go, to get, to be gone out of the city. And I needed a weekend with one of my oldest, most beloved friends.
She returned from Afghanistan this summer, and we sat and talked most of the night about everything and anything. I love that she has a huge vocabulary and a quick, intelligent mind. and I love that when I asked her, "do you ever meet people and think to yourself- there is another character for my novel?" she replied quite seriously, "yes, of course." and then we lamented that we don't immediately write down everything about that person, and instead are more likely to forget their nuances, and thus, never use them as a character.
Her brother was in a play with a local theater. He's a really great actor and planning to make a career of it. Here is a clip of his performance:
