And I've finished putting up and decorating the tree, I've finished preparing and wrapping presents and letters, and now I'm sitting in the dark waiting for my two best friends to arrive to celebrate the holiday, as my parents aren't usually in the winter solstice spirit.
I've only been home for a few days and I'm realizing a lot. My Grandmother is often worried about me because of how invested I am into my friendships back home, because I think she thinks they bring me down or keep me from building relationships with new people. But, after being home and missing so many people from Hofstra and feeling very much at home in the comforting arms of my friends, I feel, no, I know, I can balance both worlds.
The truth is, Bethlehem is what made me. I wouldn't be half the woman I am today if it wasn't for these icy winter streets and the availability of my friends being here in 15 minutes. I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for learning my parents personalities inside and out, or if I hadn't seen my friends go through half the things they did, if I didn't go through half the things I did.
I have every intention of moving away from Bethlehem, however, I also promise myself that I will come back, because losing this, losing who I am, would be like losing my family.
The house smells like chicken soup, and soon it will smell like the fireplace.
I cannot wait to grow up and see this whole town in a different light, because I feel I'm still seeing it through the eyes of a 4 year old little girl, who didn't know much more than the snow that toppled over her head.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Wonderful Winter.
"I can't imagine all the people that you know
And the places that you go
When the lights are turned down low
And I don't understand
All the things you've seen
But I'm slipping in between
You and your big... dreams
it's always you in my big dreams
And you tell me
That it's over
Wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clover
And you're restless
And I'm naked
You've got to get out
You can't stand to see me shaking
no, could you let me go
I didn't think so
and you don't want to be here in the future
So you say
the present's just a pleasant
Interruption to the past
And you don't want to look much closer
'Cause you're afraid to find out all this hope
You had sent into the sky by now had... crashed
and it did because of me
And then you bring me home
Afraid to find out that you're alone, no
And I'm sleeping in your living room
But we don't have much room
To live
I had these dreams, in them I learned to play guitar
Maybe cross the country
Become a rockstar
And there was hope in me
That I could take you there
But damn it you're so young
But I don't think I care
and if I hurt you then i'm sorry
please don't think that this was easy
And then you bring me home
'Cause we both know what it's like to be alone, no
And I'm dreaming in your living room
But we don't have much room
To live
And Konstantine is walking down the stairs
Doesn't she look good
Standing in her underwear?
And I was thinking, what I was thinking
But we've been drinking
And it doesn't get me anywhere
My Konstantine came walking down the stairs
And all that I could do
Was touch her long blonde hair
And I've been thinking
It hurts me thinking
That these nights when we were drinking
No they never got us anywhere, no
This is because I can spell konfusion with a K
And I can like it
It's to dying in anothers arms
and why i had to try it
It's to jimmy eat world
and those nights in my car
when the first star you see
may not be a star
I'm not your star
Isn't that what you said?
what you thought this song meant
And if this is what it takes
just to lie with my mistakes
and live with what I did to you
All the hell I put you through
I always catch the clock it's 11:11
And now you want to talk
it's not hard to dream
You'll always be my Konstantine
My Konstantine
They'll never hurt you like I do
No, They'll never hurt you like I do
No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No, No
This is to a girl who got into my head
with all the pretty things she did
Hey, You know, you keep me up in bed
This is to a girl who got into my head
with all these fucked up things I did
Hey maybe baby, you could keep me up in bed
My Konstantine
Spin around me like a dream
We played out on this movie screen
And I said,
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
Did you know I miss you
I miss you
And then you bring me home
And we'll go to sleep but this time not alone, no No,
And then you'll kiss me in your living room, oh
I know you miss me in your living room
Cause these nights I think maybe that I miss you in my living room
We don't have much room
I said, does anybody need that room?
Because we all need a little more room
To live
...My Konstantine."
"Hey, when I think about all my time and all my struggle
Through all my grindin’ and all my troubles
Man I came up from nothin’ , all I had was a hustle
With a blindfold tryin’ to find pieces to the puzzle, no muzzle
I tell it like it is, that’s that, right or wrong, I’mma call it how I see it
Don’t forget that impossible is nothin’, your environment is irrelevant
Just don’t let your emotions over power your intelligence
Refuse to give up, your mistakes don't define you
they dont dictate where you headin’, they remind you
That time keeps tickin’, let your mind keep clickin’
Never stop thinkin’, be aware of your decision
Everywhere the collisions
And the potholes hidden in the road that you travel on your lifelong mission
Just listen everyday like a snap shot is taken, if you live you could learn if you just be patient
‘Cause life is like a slide show
And all the places I go
And all the things that I know
Through all the highs and lows
‘Cause life is like a slide show
And all the things that I’ve seen
And all the things that I dream
You can’t take away from me
‘Cause life is like a slide show
‘Cause when I look back at a fly young cat
Who could rap with a dream, look where I took that
Beginning on bankhead, then I spread out
Vision in my head, all I had to do is to get it out
When I walked out of my house, and look at my street
All I see is the opportunity that lead me to truancy
I ain’t really have a role model to influence me
Uncle (someone?) they said next its gonna be you in it
As a juvenile caught cases so fluently look at my life and learn from it, don’t do it
If I only knew back then what I know now, how much better life would have been if I'da slowed down
Maybe I'da been Kanye, instead of seeing gunplay
But god got a plan, I’ll understand one day,
but one day of life like a snap shot is taken,
if you believe you can make it have faith be patient
‘Cause life is like a slide show
And all the places I go
And all the things that I know
Through all the highs and lows
‘Cause life is like a slide show
And all the things that I’ve seen
And all the things that I dream
You can’t take away from me
‘Cause life is like a slide show
Looking back on my life time
See the slides go by, trying to wonder why
Looking back at where I’ve been
I remember when, you remember
‘Cause life is like a slide show
And all the places I go
And all the things that I know
Through all the highs and lows
‘Cause life is like a slide show
And all the things that I’ve seen
And all the things that I dream
You can’t take away from me
‘Cause life is like a slide show
‘Cause life is like a slide show
‘Cause life is like a slide show
‘Cause I see, cause I dream, life is like a slide show"
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Psst.
I have a secret for the post, and I think I may just write it.
I have a secret for the post, and I may just send it in.
You'll wonder if you know my handwriting well enough to know which one is mine.
But you didn't.
And you don't.
And you never will.
Marry Christmas Baby, I'm home.
I have a secret for the post, and I may just send it in.
You'll wonder if you know my handwriting well enough to know which one is mine.
But you didn't.
And you don't.
And you never will.
Marry Christmas Baby, I'm home.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The gift of beauty
It is exactly a month until my birthday... and last night I probably got the present of a lifetime.
Yesterday my friends and I were in the city for a class requirement. Afterwards, we walked around going to a few of my new favorite places, and I begged them to could go to Strawberry Fields. Little did I realize, that it was December 8th, the anniversary of John Lennon's death.
Around 8 o'clock, as we were walking to Central Park in the cloak of the night, I swore I heard music. I asked the girls if they heard it too, "I'm humming," Johanna replied. But, when we stopped for a moment we realized that there really was singing, and the sweet sound of guitars coming at us from the left. We turned and looked, and low and behold, the memorial of John Lennon's death. A wave of sadness and excitement crashed over me. I was brought up on the Beatles, my mother and I love to sing along to almost any song of theirs we hear (although, with my mother and I, when aren't we singing?). I sang "In My Life" and "Let it Be" to my late Great Grandmother when she'd ask me to sing for her. This meant something.
Liz, Johanna and I walked up to the crowd, and soon found ourselves nestled in the crowd of people whose voices and bodies acted as a second layer of warmth to our thoroughly frosted selves. We talked to people, we sang louder than I think I've ever sung in public. I made a new friend, and we made it up to the front row.
I swear the moments where we were asked to have the two silences, my heart stood still. As I watched Yoko Ono blow out the candle from her apartment, we began to sing Imagine. Of all the songs we sang that night in a group I didn't think that would be the one to really get me. Of course I teared (alright, more than teared) at the two songs I hold so close (In My Life and Let it Be). But somewhere between the drunken man next to us screaming "Play Happy Christmas!" after every song, and later on, my favorite flub up "Play My Guitar Weeps Quietly!" (hehe), and the voices of this crowd of people reaching far past where I could ever imagine my voice reaching, I cried. I did so quietly, and to myself, hoping my new found friends wouldn't see me, but I let every sadness I've felt in the last few months pour out of me into my mourning.
There is no such thing as a lack of beauty in any moment, any breath. I cannot possibly bear to let myself forget the feeling of togetherness I felt with these strangers. I cannot let myself fall prey to any kind of sour feeling in my heart. I plan on remembering this first memorial I attended (trust me, we will be going again next year, and I plan on every year after that), as long as I can.
This is the second post I've dedicated to an admirable person passing on, but I don't know how else to end this.
RIP, John Lennon. It was proven last night you will never be forgotten.
Yesterday my friends and I were in the city for a class requirement. Afterwards, we walked around going to a few of my new favorite places, and I begged them to could go to Strawberry Fields. Little did I realize, that it was December 8th, the anniversary of John Lennon's death.
Around 8 o'clock, as we were walking to Central Park in the cloak of the night, I swore I heard music. I asked the girls if they heard it too, "I'm humming," Johanna replied. But, when we stopped for a moment we realized that there really was singing, and the sweet sound of guitars coming at us from the left. We turned and looked, and low and behold, the memorial of John Lennon's death. A wave of sadness and excitement crashed over me. I was brought up on the Beatles, my mother and I love to sing along to almost any song of theirs we hear (although, with my mother and I, when aren't we singing?). I sang "In My Life" and "Let it Be" to my late Great Grandmother when she'd ask me to sing for her. This meant something.
Liz, Johanna and I walked up to the crowd, and soon found ourselves nestled in the crowd of people whose voices and bodies acted as a second layer of warmth to our thoroughly frosted selves. We talked to people, we sang louder than I think I've ever sung in public. I made a new friend, and we made it up to the front row.
I swear the moments where we were asked to have the two silences, my heart stood still. As I watched Yoko Ono blow out the candle from her apartment, we began to sing Imagine. Of all the songs we sang that night in a group I didn't think that would be the one to really get me. Of course I teared (alright, more than teared) at the two songs I hold so close (In My Life and Let it Be). But somewhere between the drunken man next to us screaming "Play Happy Christmas!" after every song, and later on, my favorite flub up "Play My Guitar Weeps Quietly!" (hehe), and the voices of this crowd of people reaching far past where I could ever imagine my voice reaching, I cried. I did so quietly, and to myself, hoping my new found friends wouldn't see me, but I let every sadness I've felt in the last few months pour out of me into my mourning.
There is no such thing as a lack of beauty in any moment, any breath. I cannot possibly bear to let myself forget the feeling of togetherness I felt with these strangers. I cannot let myself fall prey to any kind of sour feeling in my heart. I plan on remembering this first memorial I attended (trust me, we will be going again next year, and I plan on every year after that), as long as I can.
This is the second post I've dedicated to an admirable person passing on, but I don't know how else to end this.
RIP, John Lennon. It was proven last night you will never be forgotten.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
RIP
I remember in 2005 my dad took me to a concert at the Keswick Theatre. It was a tribute to our friend Pete Seeger and a benefit for Sing Out!, my father's magazine. Many performers graced that stage that night, including Pete, and I am proud to call them part of my community. That night, I saw Odetta in concert. She had so much presence, and her voice was that of civil rights, of change. I find myself feeling guilty, that I've never seen my mother perform with this woman, whose spirit and life touched so many.
I have never been so proud of the community my parents call their family and friends, and the community I hope to be able to embrace as graciously as it has embraced me. I have been so very lucky to be around minds and hearts such as Odetta's and Pete's and Tom's and Priscilla's, and Cindy's and my Mother's, and everyone who I have (even if it was reluctantly), watched wide eyed as they painted stories on stage.
I only hope to be so lucky as to meet more people like this in my life, and do everything in my power to make a difference.
RIP Odetta, Your light and spirit will be missed, my thoughts are with you.
December 30th 1930 - December 2nd 2008
I have never been so proud of the community my parents call their family and friends, and the community I hope to be able to embrace as graciously as it has embraced me. I have been so very lucky to be around minds and hearts such as Odetta's and Pete's and Tom's and Priscilla's, and Cindy's and my Mother's, and everyone who I have (even if it was reluctantly), watched wide eyed as they painted stories on stage.
I only hope to be so lucky as to meet more people like this in my life, and do everything in my power to make a difference.
RIP Odetta, Your light and spirit will be missed, my thoughts are with you.
December 30th 1930 - December 2nd 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Smiling Eyes
There's a certain smell that always gets me. It reminds me so much of the times when we used to sit in my room and laugh for hours. It does not make me wonder what it would be like if you had never moved, it just reminds me of how it used to feel to be a child. And I like that.
One thing that I've always envied are eyes that look like they're smiling. Sometimes, when I say hello to someone it's not their face that tells me "I'm glad to see you too," it is their eyes. There is some light behind the eyes of these lucky people that just shows their happiness. And I wish so much that someone sees that in my eyes too.
I've never thought that I had those eyes. My eyes are so dark that I feel like no matter how much power I push through them no one will see the joy I feel. So I laugh a lot, and I smile as hard as I can, and then they know.
You have those smiling eyes, friend, and I cannot wait for the day that I can see them again. You are so far away but know that you will always be my brother no matter the time between us talking. And I love you. And sometimes, it is the thought of you that helps me make my decisions.
This post is not well written, nor understandable, but for me, it is everything I'm feeling. And I am so happy that I have found that smell again, along with smiling eyes.
One thing that I've always envied are eyes that look like they're smiling. Sometimes, when I say hello to someone it's not their face that tells me "I'm glad to see you too," it is their eyes. There is some light behind the eyes of these lucky people that just shows their happiness. And I wish so much that someone sees that in my eyes too.
I've never thought that I had those eyes. My eyes are so dark that I feel like no matter how much power I push through them no one will see the joy I feel. So I laugh a lot, and I smile as hard as I can, and then they know.
You have those smiling eyes, friend, and I cannot wait for the day that I can see them again. You are so far away but know that you will always be my brother no matter the time between us talking. And I love you. And sometimes, it is the thought of you that helps me make my decisions.
This post is not well written, nor understandable, but for me, it is everything I'm feeling. And I am so happy that I have found that smell again, along with smiling eyes.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Bless.
Accept LOVE.
It is the only truth in life.
Why deny others access to truth?
Why put rules on love?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
3, 2, 1.... Go.
I'm mainly posting this because I'm avoiding studying for my midterm, because I'm tired, stressed, and really don't feel well.
Last night was one of those nights, where everything goes wrong. My arthritis was acting up, I had a headache, and I was sad.
I was thinking about depression last night, and about how maybe it really is the sole route of most people's problems. Ever wonder why you get sick the day before a big test you've been stressing about? Why after 2 mental health days it turns out you need an ACTUAL health day?
The thing is, is that locking yourself in your room and crying all night isn't going to make the difference in your mood. You need to get yourself out of bed, and out into the sun. Wake up, and do something, eat for god sake. And I don't mean the bag of milanos under your pillow.
Depression is debilitating, trust me, I know. But something I'm slowly learning that not many people know is... you can beat it. Without the pills, with out the therapy. There are of course extreme cases, where you really do need those things, but at the end of the day it is you who has control of your emotions.
People who are happy all the time are happy all the time because they have made life decisions that make them that way, if you don't like the color of your room, and it makes you sad, clear out your shit, get some paint, have some friends over, and CHANGE IT. If you don't like where you are or what you are doing, CHANGE IT. Oh I know the response is going to come "but Tamlyn, sometimes you really are stuck someplace." Okay. So you're really stuck someplace, because of an obligation you made, or money problems, what is the point of sitting and wallowing? If you can't change where you are, change your attitude. Go into every day like it's going to be the best day of your life. You're going to work harder, laugh harder, talk louder, be smarter, than the day before. If something brings you down, this isn't to say that you can't take a moment and be sad, but for god sakes if you're going to be sad - LOOK at why you are sad. Figure it out, and if it is in your control, fix it, if it isn't... here is a novel idea... GET THE FUCK OVER IT.
Life is going to throw curve balls at us, and a lot of the time, they're going to get us down rather than pick us up. But instead of sitting and thinking "Where have I gone wrong? What did I do to deserve this?" start WALKING and thinking "Where have I gone right? If I did something wrong, how can I rectify it? How do I change the path that I am currently taking?"
On that note, I will be applying for transfer to NYU. It's a leap, hell, it's a HUGE jump... but I think that I would be overall happier there, and if it is my surroundings that are bringing me down, I will change them. If it's the people around me, I will shed them. If it is myself, I will be reborn.
/rant.
(People are really gunna hate me huh? =P)
Last night was one of those nights, where everything goes wrong. My arthritis was acting up, I had a headache, and I was sad.
I was thinking about depression last night, and about how maybe it really is the sole route of most people's problems. Ever wonder why you get sick the day before a big test you've been stressing about? Why after 2 mental health days it turns out you need an ACTUAL health day?
The thing is, is that locking yourself in your room and crying all night isn't going to make the difference in your mood. You need to get yourself out of bed, and out into the sun. Wake up, and do something, eat for god sake. And I don't mean the bag of milanos under your pillow.
Depression is debilitating, trust me, I know. But something I'm slowly learning that not many people know is... you can beat it. Without the pills, with out the therapy. There are of course extreme cases, where you really do need those things, but at the end of the day it is you who has control of your emotions.
People who are happy all the time are happy all the time because they have made life decisions that make them that way, if you don't like the color of your room, and it makes you sad, clear out your shit, get some paint, have some friends over, and CHANGE IT. If you don't like where you are or what you are doing, CHANGE IT. Oh I know the response is going to come "but Tamlyn, sometimes you really are stuck someplace." Okay. So you're really stuck someplace, because of an obligation you made, or money problems, what is the point of sitting and wallowing? If you can't change where you are, change your attitude. Go into every day like it's going to be the best day of your life. You're going to work harder, laugh harder, talk louder, be smarter, than the day before. If something brings you down, this isn't to say that you can't take a moment and be sad, but for god sakes if you're going to be sad - LOOK at why you are sad. Figure it out, and if it is in your control, fix it, if it isn't... here is a novel idea... GET THE FUCK OVER IT.
Life is going to throw curve balls at us, and a lot of the time, they're going to get us down rather than pick us up. But instead of sitting and thinking "Where have I gone wrong? What did I do to deserve this?" start WALKING and thinking "Where have I gone right? If I did something wrong, how can I rectify it? How do I change the path that I am currently taking?"
On that note, I will be applying for transfer to NYU. It's a leap, hell, it's a HUGE jump... but I think that I would be overall happier there, and if it is my surroundings that are bringing me down, I will change them. If it's the people around me, I will shed them. If it is myself, I will be reborn.
/rant.
(People are really gunna hate me huh? =P)
Monday, November 17, 2008
Quick Update
So, the teacher in question recognized his mistake and made it so our papers were not due until the end of the week, we can e-mail them any time after Wednesday, load off of my mind.
Now all I have to do is study for the final, make a power point tonight, and tomorrow, study just the same. Then after class on Wednesday work on the paper at the office and type it up when I get home. Oh! The length was also changed, it is not 8 pages DOUBLE spaced, instead of single. Bless his angel soul.
I want to clear up my opinion about this man, as much as I doubt his dedication to the teaching profession, I am very certain he cares about the students. He is not a bad man in any regard, and what he lacks in the teaching gene, he soars at in his research and work on stem cells. I do not doubt his passion for the subject matter, nor his passion for getting people to agree with him, I only doubt if he is made for this profession that requires a certain amount of care and availability. My previous post made it seem as if I disliked him as a person, which is not the case, I just dislike his style of teaching.
I have about 25 minutes before I go into work, where I will do nothing except wait for something to do, and then end up doing nothing, because there is rarely anything to do. I'm a bit concerned because I'm not 100% sure where my paychecks are going, because I haven't received a single one. I should probably get on that.
I can't wait to have a bit of extra time, so I can throw myself back into my writing. I miss so much the days where I can sit and look at the shambles that are currently my play. I've been avoiding admittance that I'm stuck in a vortex for a while by consuming myself in poetry, but at the end of the day it really is the lives of Theo and Amanda that pull at my brain. I am so stuck at realizing why they are losing their words, or why it is their story and not someone else's. All I know is that there is something about these two characters I've created that I can't let go of. They have a story to tell I just don't know what it is yet.
In my playwrighting class I remember being told I can't be afraid to hurt them. I'm trying so much to push them to the limits they need to jump, but for some reason the text is getting lost in that struggle. I sit and stare at my scribbled corrections on the hard copy script and I honestly can barely understand what I meant by "no." or "NOT RIGHT!" I know when I made the notes I knew exactly what I needed to change, but after waiting so long, I feel like the reason I started writing this is lost in the fog. All I remember about the process was that I haven't lost Amanda's monologue. It was the first thing that came to me as I was sleeping and a woke up and wrote it down right away. It stemmed the entire piece. I don't know what I wanted it to say. I don't know what the story is anymore. I refuse to just throw it aside but my epiphany simply isn't coming.
I asked two of my former classmates to help dramaturge the play, but for some reason it doesn't seem to click. Their answers look like gibberish to me, and I know that it's not their intention, they really took time reading and e-mailing a response from states away, but my mind simply cannot comprehend what I wanted to change, or what needs to change.
I write because I want to be that person who takes someones breath away. I want to take my own breath away. This is a completely selfish and immature reasoning, but I don't know how else to acheive the peace that my sore typing fingers need. If I don't write I feel unaccomplished, no matter what I clean or sing or watch or how much homework I do, it's writing that calms my mind day after day. And perhaps being selfish is the only reason any of us do anything, but it makes me sad for my writing. I want to write for others but I seem to be only writing for myself.
I really wish I could just sit down and have all the poetry that I work on form itself into the plot of Amanda and Theo. But it's not, nearly a year later I am not even close to finding a resolution, and it's eating away at me.
Now all I have to do is study for the final, make a power point tonight, and tomorrow, study just the same. Then after class on Wednesday work on the paper at the office and type it up when I get home. Oh! The length was also changed, it is not 8 pages DOUBLE spaced, instead of single. Bless his angel soul.
I want to clear up my opinion about this man, as much as I doubt his dedication to the teaching profession, I am very certain he cares about the students. He is not a bad man in any regard, and what he lacks in the teaching gene, he soars at in his research and work on stem cells. I do not doubt his passion for the subject matter, nor his passion for getting people to agree with him, I only doubt if he is made for this profession that requires a certain amount of care and availability. My previous post made it seem as if I disliked him as a person, which is not the case, I just dislike his style of teaching.
I have about 25 minutes before I go into work, where I will do nothing except wait for something to do, and then end up doing nothing, because there is rarely anything to do. I'm a bit concerned because I'm not 100% sure where my paychecks are going, because I haven't received a single one. I should probably get on that.
I can't wait to have a bit of extra time, so I can throw myself back into my writing. I miss so much the days where I can sit and look at the shambles that are currently my play. I've been avoiding admittance that I'm stuck in a vortex for a while by consuming myself in poetry, but at the end of the day it really is the lives of Theo and Amanda that pull at my brain. I am so stuck at realizing why they are losing their words, or why it is their story and not someone else's. All I know is that there is something about these two characters I've created that I can't let go of. They have a story to tell I just don't know what it is yet.
In my playwrighting class I remember being told I can't be afraid to hurt them. I'm trying so much to push them to the limits they need to jump, but for some reason the text is getting lost in that struggle. I sit and stare at my scribbled corrections on the hard copy script and I honestly can barely understand what I meant by "no." or "NOT RIGHT!" I know when I made the notes I knew exactly what I needed to change, but after waiting so long, I feel like the reason I started writing this is lost in the fog. All I remember about the process was that I haven't lost Amanda's monologue. It was the first thing that came to me as I was sleeping and a woke up and wrote it down right away. It stemmed the entire piece. I don't know what I wanted it to say. I don't know what the story is anymore. I refuse to just throw it aside but my epiphany simply isn't coming.
I asked two of my former classmates to help dramaturge the play, but for some reason it doesn't seem to click. Their answers look like gibberish to me, and I know that it's not their intention, they really took time reading and e-mailing a response from states away, but my mind simply cannot comprehend what I wanted to change, or what needs to change.
I write because I want to be that person who takes someones breath away. I want to take my own breath away. This is a completely selfish and immature reasoning, but I don't know how else to acheive the peace that my sore typing fingers need. If I don't write I feel unaccomplished, no matter what I clean or sing or watch or how much homework I do, it's writing that calms my mind day after day. And perhaps being selfish is the only reason any of us do anything, but it makes me sad for my writing. I want to write for others but I seem to be only writing for myself.
I really wish I could just sit down and have all the poetry that I work on form itself into the plot of Amanda and Theo. But it's not, nearly a year later I am not even close to finding a resolution, and it's eating away at me.
I have 15 minutes before class...
I suppose this will be the only time I have to update today because I have class, then a meeting, then work till 5, and last night at 11, I finally got that final paper assignment emailed to me, so I'll be working on that. Oh! And a lab too! That doesn't get assigned until today.
Anyway, I'm beginning to realize that when my mind and my heart don't want to do something, I feel sick. For instance, I feel sick sitting here in this empty classroom, because I'd much rather be sleeping due to the fact that last night I couldn't fall asleep because I felt sick thinking about today. I was up until 2 in the morning watching crap TV, I know I know, TMZ is not a good way to make myself tired, but I tried! Celebrity gossip (if you could even call that junk that comes out of that show gossip...) does not make you tired folks! And they get you by putting up your favorite celebrity and then cutting to commercial so you have to wait for more.
I waited about 15 minutes for Guy Fieri. And then after that, I watched some Iron Chef until it was getting ridiculous and I needed to sleep.
I've been doing that a lot lately, not sleeping, and it's becoming a severe problem. I don't know if it's because I'm always thinking, or feel like I have something to do, because it's definitely not that I'm not tired. I'm exhausted, all the time. But for some reason sleep just won't come. I think that maybe I need that pill that "dissolves fast for quick rest, and then the second half dissolves slowly to keep you asleep," but at the same time there could be some very simple reason for my lack of sleep.
Things were easier in the beginning of this year when I used to meditate, maybe I need to start doing that again, in order to finally rest.
In the meantime, I should sign off and put my brain into class mode. Wednesday is the last day of this god forsaken class and I couldn't be happier.
Anyway, I'm beginning to realize that when my mind and my heart don't want to do something, I feel sick. For instance, I feel sick sitting here in this empty classroom, because I'd much rather be sleeping due to the fact that last night I couldn't fall asleep because I felt sick thinking about today. I was up until 2 in the morning watching crap TV, I know I know, TMZ is not a good way to make myself tired, but I tried! Celebrity gossip (if you could even call that junk that comes out of that show gossip...) does not make you tired folks! And they get you by putting up your favorite celebrity and then cutting to commercial so you have to wait for more.
I waited about 15 minutes for Guy Fieri. And then after that, I watched some Iron Chef until it was getting ridiculous and I needed to sleep.
I've been doing that a lot lately, not sleeping, and it's becoming a severe problem. I don't know if it's because I'm always thinking, or feel like I have something to do, because it's definitely not that I'm not tired. I'm exhausted, all the time. But for some reason sleep just won't come. I think that maybe I need that pill that "dissolves fast for quick rest, and then the second half dissolves slowly to keep you asleep," but at the same time there could be some very simple reason for my lack of sleep.
Things were easier in the beginning of this year when I used to meditate, maybe I need to start doing that again, in order to finally rest.
In the meantime, I should sign off and put my brain into class mode. Wednesday is the last day of this god forsaken class and I couldn't be happier.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Love, and Truth.
Fourth post in one day, mainly because I decided to stay in this Sunday.
In my 18 years, I have had the pleasure of falling in love a million times, with family, with friends, with myself. I think that the concept of love is often lost on those without hope and trust in their hearts. Love is not about what the other person can give you but what they can make you, and what you can give them. I have been lucky enough to grow up with an old soul and a naive heart. (I will admit that.) I have always seen the best in everyone and believed that they would see the best in me, and lord knows how many times that has come to bite me in the ass (or maybe better said, in the heart.) But, after all of these surprises people throw at me, I refuse to lose hope.
I think that if my Grandmother can stick by my Grandfather's side as he loses his mind to dementia, if my Pop Pop can hold my Grammy's hand through the surgery to get her tumor removed and her recuperation, if my Aunt can find someone on the INTERNET who changes the life of her and her children in the course of one year, if friends can remain through the most tumultuous of break ups, if my parents can stay together through the constant traveling. If after 10 years my best friend still stands by my side day after day, if a child can forgive the parent who neglected them, if at 90 years old a women drives down the street and honks in praise for a group of people protesting for equality, if that group of people can even come together with never knowing each other and protest for that equality. If all that can happen, then true love must exist, because none of that can happen without love in people's hearts.
There is nothing more true than love. There is nothing that fuels love more than the truth.
(Also, yesterday at the protest this man drove by us and said "Look at my license plate!" and when we did, it read this:
MARJEQLTY
it may seem silly, but the whole day yesterday brought tears of joy to my eyes. There is hope.)
In my 18 years, I have had the pleasure of falling in love a million times, with family, with friends, with myself. I think that the concept of love is often lost on those without hope and trust in their hearts. Love is not about what the other person can give you but what they can make you, and what you can give them. I have been lucky enough to grow up with an old soul and a naive heart. (I will admit that.) I have always seen the best in everyone and believed that they would see the best in me, and lord knows how many times that has come to bite me in the ass (or maybe better said, in the heart.) But, after all of these surprises people throw at me, I refuse to lose hope.
I think that if my Grandmother can stick by my Grandfather's side as he loses his mind to dementia, if my Pop Pop can hold my Grammy's hand through the surgery to get her tumor removed and her recuperation, if my Aunt can find someone on the INTERNET who changes the life of her and her children in the course of one year, if friends can remain through the most tumultuous of break ups, if my parents can stay together through the constant traveling. If after 10 years my best friend still stands by my side day after day, if a child can forgive the parent who neglected them, if at 90 years old a women drives down the street and honks in praise for a group of people protesting for equality, if that group of people can even come together with never knowing each other and protest for that equality. If all that can happen, then true love must exist, because none of that can happen without love in people's hearts.
There is nothing more true than love. There is nothing that fuels love more than the truth.
(Also, yesterday at the protest this man drove by us and said "Look at my license plate!" and when we did, it read this:
MARJEQLTY
it may seem silly, but the whole day yesterday brought tears of joy to my eyes. There is hope.)
Indifference
I find it astounding that the teachers here have such an indifference even towards their own curriculum.
I am currently in a class delving into the social and medical implications behind embryonic stem cell (ESC) research. While I am extremely interested in the subject matter and put myself in full force, I still struggle due to the scientific nature of the class, but I believe that I demonstrate my commitment. I am usually one of the few people who do the reading and discuss it the next day, I work hard on my papers and turn them in on time, when he asks for help outside of class I am usually willing to do some extra research for him and send him a speedy e-mail. Although, I am beginning to wonder why I do such a thing. Mainly because when it comes time for this teacher to help his students, he is extremely lax. This is my first college science course, and coming from a performing arts high school, my science has never been especially strong, so when I have questions concerning my papers, he tells me to e-mail them. And I do, usually around the 3pm or 4pm time mark, and when do my one sentence not so clear answers appear? 9:30pm. Which makes it so if I have asked an imperative question to my report, I need to pull an all nighter in something I could have finished hours before.
This weekend brought a new sense of frustration with this man, when Thursday he informed us he'd e-mail us Tuesday's assignment in an hour, so we'd have the whole weekend to work on it. (Side note, he'd asked us for input on what our final paper should be, and I, presumably, was the only student to hand in input.) It is now Sunday evening and I have sent countless e-mails to my professor asking whether or not he was going to email us our assignment. Neither myself nor any of my classmates have received a response.
I attended a school where teachers care, and not only did they care, they also made sure to follow through with their promises. I am just extremely frustrated by the fact that my teacher has single handedly hindered the grades of every single one of our papers by giving us one night to complete them.
8 pages single spaced.
I'm beginning to wonder if every teacher should be required to take a "I actually care about my job," test. Fuckers.
I am currently in a class delving into the social and medical implications behind embryonic stem cell (ESC) research. While I am extremely interested in the subject matter and put myself in full force, I still struggle due to the scientific nature of the class, but I believe that I demonstrate my commitment. I am usually one of the few people who do the reading and discuss it the next day, I work hard on my papers and turn them in on time, when he asks for help outside of class I am usually willing to do some extra research for him and send him a speedy e-mail. Although, I am beginning to wonder why I do such a thing. Mainly because when it comes time for this teacher to help his students, he is extremely lax. This is my first college science course, and coming from a performing arts high school, my science has never been especially strong, so when I have questions concerning my papers, he tells me to e-mail them. And I do, usually around the 3pm or 4pm time mark, and when do my one sentence not so clear answers appear? 9:30pm. Which makes it so if I have asked an imperative question to my report, I need to pull an all nighter in something I could have finished hours before.
This weekend brought a new sense of frustration with this man, when Thursday he informed us he'd e-mail us Tuesday's assignment in an hour, so we'd have the whole weekend to work on it. (Side note, he'd asked us for input on what our final paper should be, and I, presumably, was the only student to hand in input.) It is now Sunday evening and I have sent countless e-mails to my professor asking whether or not he was going to email us our assignment. Neither myself nor any of my classmates have received a response.
I attended a school where teachers care, and not only did they care, they also made sure to follow through with their promises. I am just extremely frustrated by the fact that my teacher has single handedly hindered the grades of every single one of our papers by giving us one night to complete them.
8 pages single spaced.
I'm beginning to wonder if every teacher should be required to take a "I actually care about my job," test. Fuckers.
An explanation...
For my first REAL post I suppose I'll explain where my URL title came from.
My senior year of high school I was in a playwrighting class led by JC Lee, (You can find his blog at rantsravesandrethoughts.blogspot.com, I highly recommend it). We constantly had class debates about the beauty of destruction. I completely understood what Justin was talking about when he spoke about seeing the beauty in everything, including undeniable destruction. One day, while sitting in my study hall, I had a good friend show me a documentary about a place in Northern Ukraine (formerly the Soviet Union), which had been struck with a nuclear disaster in 1986. After the radiation began, everyone was commanded to leave their homes behind, leave everything. 22 years later we see some of the most unbelievable beauty coming through. Homes, sports stadiums, amusement parks, and basically everything in the area has gone into remission, the earth is reinstalling itself, nature has taken over this run down city. I may sound crazy calling this beauty, but you'd have to see it for yourself, the documentary is so much more breath taking than the pictures I am about to post, but in the same breath, the pictures have more life and death in them than I can imagine.
Credit: http://www.lindsayfincher.com/chernobyl_tour_2007/
I believe that in this world all we can do is look for beauty or a glimpse of hope in every step we make or see. There is no telling what we can learn from the greatest disasters of our time, and learn we will, if we appreciate the story and the life behind them.
The things we hear and see are not just stories, are not just occurances that plagued a group that does not include us. This is the human race, this is our earth and our world and recognizing the eerie beauty and lesson behind every act of kindness or hatred.
Just think, through a disaster, through abandonment, this city's nature still prevailed. It's as if the life came back full force through this Chernobyl disaster. Chernobyl grows.
(Chernobyl was the title of the nuclear power plant located in the Soviet Union, not the specific place it affected.)
First of Many...
So I've been an avid Xanga user for about 7 years, with the same account and updating at least once a day. After careful thought and consideration (and a little push from my good friend LA.SH (Tri-Colour Cookie), you can find him in my followers section, he does music reviews), I've decided to part from my ever giving xanga community, for as much as I love reading and getting updated with the news of the xangian community, I just wasn't getting the response I hoped for. I wished (silently) for a few more readers, and while I'll continue posting there for more personal and journal-esque issues, the majority of my blogging energy will be focused here.
I'd also like to shamelessy plug my YouTube account, please subscribe, comment, and recommend.
(Currently the majority of vlogs are just fucking around, but two of them actually have valuble content. Hah.)
http://www.youtube.com/user/tamlynraven
The first REAL blog will be posted later this evening. Thanks to all.
-Tamlyn
(By 7 years I definitely meant 4. It's just felt like 7.)
I'd also like to shamelessy plug my YouTube account, please subscribe, comment, and recommend.
(Currently the majority of vlogs are just fucking around, but two of them actually have valuble content. Hah.)
http://www.youtube.com/user/tamlynraven
The first REAL blog will be posted later this evening. Thanks to all.
-Tamlyn
(By 7 years I definitely meant 4. It's just felt like 7.)
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