Making sense.

There is a difference between making love and making sense, and one of my least favorite things about the human race is that we never seem to understand that. If our life isn't picture perfect we focus on the fact that we're alone. But, are we really? I've touched earlier in the blog about friendships, about family, about loving oneself. I can't possibly believe that any of us are really alone. And, if that is the case, can we not find solace in the fact that people care?

"If I do not find my love, I will be incomplete."

I will not deny that I worry about not having someone to experience the butterfly filled feelings of romance, however, I refuse to believe that my problems could be solved by discovering someone else.

Yes, life - as a whole, is a big mess of impossibilities, but making sense of it by using other people, such as using medicine, will not pass.

Love, can mask pain, it can help (and I stress help) aid it, it can cause it, but I cannot see it being the end all be all. Not anymore.

I'd rather make sense than make love.

Dinkum

I remember when I used to sit in that shed and think that these kids were the best people in the world. I couldn't imagine having a better friend than Naaman, although he and I, despite the time we shared and how much we relied on each other, were never really "best" friends. There was always an in between. I remember thinking that I had stumbled upon the funniest group of guys that any girl would ever have the pleasure of knowing. I remember thinking those days would last forever.

But they didn't last forever. Naaman left America and shortly before that I stopped spending endless days in the shed, partially because I grew apart from the guys and partially because it was infested with bugs and I couldn't stand the smell of stale weed and cigarettes. But truth be told, it wasn't the most painful thing that ever could have happened. People grow apart.

The past few weeks I've been wondering to myself how much I really belong in the Lehigh Valley, how much I should really keep in contact with the people I associate with home. And, in all honesty, I think that I'm growing a lot faster than I intended to. All I can think about is graduating and starting my life in New York City, like... really starting it.

I was young when Dinkum was my end all be all, and I am still young, sitting in a recording studio with 5 guys who I think are hilarious, and who I have a great time with. But, this time, I don't think that I am "the luckiest girl in the world." Hell, they're great and I have fun with them but my own life is beginning and I'm sick of living according to what my friends are doing.

I do not belong in podunk. I do not belong in excess. I do not belong in 6th wheel. I do not belong in taking care of you. I do not belong in your shadow. I belong in mine. I belong with never ending streets at the tips of my toes. And I am going to make it, I am going to prove you wrong. I am going to build my life so well, you won't even know who I am. And then, who will be looking longingly?

I've gotten off track.

For so long I have used other people as my scapegoat.
I will be my own.

2009

I suppose I should write my first blog of the new year... but the truth is that I don't know what to say. My heart has been torn between light and heavy the past week or so that I've been back in Pennsylvania. Things are always good, and things are usually also bad. And I'm finding it harder and harder for me to imagine A. being able to actually think of something to write besides writing about why I can't write, or B. leaving all these people behind again.

What is even harder is that I've learned a lot about love and friendship since I've been home. I think it's funny that that is what I'm always learning about, but I never learn anything I can easily apply to life. And I'm trying very hard to show my teachers (my friends) what they've taught me, but I feel like it will land on deaf ears so I sit here struggling to write out my thoughts with out getting too personal, because no one likes a name dropper.

The truth is that I know I want to go back to New York, I know that I want to speed through this learning and start my life in an apartment the size of my bedroom here, with only WiFi and an open window to keep me company. That would be fine with me. I want to walk out into the brisk air and see a friendly face who's hand links in mine.

I want to grow old with these people by my side. However I know only a few will last, and I know that my heart is once again moving too fast because I have never once seen such blurred places.

I hate to fight for the past present and future all at once... but I'm not sure how else to fight at all.










In other news, I have a slinky.