some ramblings in the morning
i haven’t written in a while, but life has been getting in the way, which is a good thing. i don’t know why they say “life GOT IN THE WAY”. life shouldn’t be in the way, we should just Live it. life is not something to be avoided it is something to grab by the balls and follow your heart. thats what i’m trying to do down here. i’m trying to live life to its fullest and immerse myself completely in it.
but there has been something getting in the way as of late, and its the past. i try not to dwell on it, but if i want to get better and know thyself better i have to explore it, and the newly found memories that have been cropping up since moving here. i geuss my mind has decided i’m safe down here and i can examine my life anew. just what i need when i’m trying to gete up on my feet and get a job. i’m not going to say i’m an emotional wreck, cause i’m not, but some random things can set me off (either angry or sad) and i have to spend a few hours examining that emotion and where it came from. then a new memory pops up and i have to examine that… its very time consuming and exhausting. So its my past that got in the way, never life. i refuse to write some of these memories out, because well they are a little disturbing, some of them, and others, well they just aren’t memories that i want to keep a record of. one thing i do want to write down is this dream/night terror that i have had for a long time.
i’ve had night terrors for as long as i can remember. no dream, just an overwehlming sense of terror and helplessness. it sucked. especially since afterwards you have a hard time calming down and you don’t know why you are frightened. i always just started to read a book because i couldn’t sleep (night terrors happen in the first part of the night, when you are drifting into deep sleep). but i finally had a night terror with sensation, and i felt like i had had the dream (night terrors don’t usually have sensation) hundreds of times before…
i am in a black void. i cannot see, i cannot hear. i cannot move
i try to call out, i cannot. there is nothing gagging me, i just cannot call out.
then i feel it, hands stroking my leggs, my arms, slowly making their way
to my most private areas. i try to scream, and fight them off, but i cannot move
i am trapped in my brain. i am trapped in some fear, in some memory thats misssing
the sight, the sound…
i think its a night terror because the only thing in the dream really is the hands. the fighting and screaming is me trying to wake myself up. but i don’t feel the movement or hear the sounds i’m making. apparently i whimmper and thrash a bit. i can’t feel this…. the last time i had this happen to me (the dream/terror) David was here, he had no idea what to do for me. i tried to tell him, but my brain was so mussed up and confused, that all i could do was cling to him…. then he tried to cheer me up, but it didn’t really work. i’m going to try again to explain it to him, but i don’t know if he’ll understand.
anyways. live life do not let it “get in the way” you’re supposed to live it not avoid it.
carpe diem
my news…egotisical, but accurate
well, as some of you may have seen i got my braces removed and i got my license, and my mom gave me the Honda CR-V
its pretty exciting.
and now that david is down here in the bay area too, life is pretty good and has reached that dull stage where life moves on, and you are just living. i do exciting things, and see many people and talk about things of great importance, but it all sort of blurs together. at least this is a blur of activity. i feel as though i’m floating above it all, and i’m living it i can see that, but am i absorbing all that life has to offer? i don’t know, i know i do sometimes but there’s a little voice in my head that tells my to be careful, to be cautios, and watch my step. don’t lose yourself in the commotion as you so dearly want to do, you get hurt. don’t jump, don’t run, do immerse, stay safe. i wish i could ignore it more often, but so far everytime i have i’ve been hurt, physically. probably emotionally too, but for some reason i can’t remember. probably one of those wonderful blank spots that i have started to notice. they are all over in my memory… i wonder what they cover, i know nothing good…
like i have no idea what went on after school my 1st semester of highschool freshman year, there are only a couple afternoons that i can remember in their intirety… most of my memories of the afternoon start wehn i was walking home from my then boyfriends house. i have no memory of what happened while i was there. i remember waking up in the mornings with new bruises wonderring where i got them, i thought i did it to myself for the longest time, but now that i look at it, i was beaten, pretty severly. i thought maybe i had tripped on my way home in my careless way, and i would think that i slid down the hill a little, how else would i explain that huge mark on my back/stomache/legs/arms. and i told people i fell, no one could deny that i was clumsy. but i didn’t even know what had happened to me. i truly had no idea. i know he never raped me, i still bled with david, so i can be thankful for that.
thinking about this, i’ve had a really fucking hard life. why me? why can i still smile? and laugh? and love? why am i not in a nut house by now?
right now i feel bad for David because he has a broken girlfriend who is still trying to pick up the peices of her half remmemberred life. he has a girlfriend who will break down and cry in the middle of the night, and she doesn’t know why she’s crying until the next morning. i feel bad because he doesn’t understand me at all… i want him too, i want to be able to explain myself verbally to him, but all i can do is write/type it out. we have a long time to get to know each other, sure we’re close, but there’s so much we don’t know about eachother. so much to do, so much time, and yet it feels like no time…. ah well enough of my pitiful musings for now.
Carpe Diem
minor note concerning last 2 posts
read them in chronological order. i am nothign comes firts, then read i’m on to something. it makes more sense that way.
i’m on to something, thank you Berger and Johnny Cash
I read this essay for English a few weeks ago by this guy in the 70’s named Berger. It talked about this idea, mystification he called it. Mystification is the idea that we put our own meanings to a piece of art that aren’t necessarily true, and that often times it is an elite group who tell us what the art means and we go from there. The idea continued into the “language f images” where he talked about how copies of an original have their own meaning based on the perspective of the person copying it
The point of this explanation is to familiarize you to my wonderings, so you can understand what I’m trying to say.
Berger’s talk was of paintings, but I wonder if it can be applied to music, or words. I’ve been listening to a few remakes of songs. The ones that Marilyn Manson remade definitely have a different meaning from the original, which much is clear by the tonal change. But what about “beat it” the remake that Fallout Boy did? It’s very similar to the original in musical tone. Does it have a different meaning? Or does it depend on the listener? I love Johnny Cash’s version of “Hurt”, but I cannot stand NIN’s version, NIN is the original. You could ask me why I prefer it, but my answer is merely my perception of the song. It’s not really what the song should be/is. So I guess Berger’s idea of mystification can be applied to anything along with this language f art, as I want to call it now. But then these ideas do pertain to everything.
What meanings have poets put to something as simple as a tree? Why does a tree evoke something more than just a thought: “this is a tree”. Even I have written about trees overcoming adversity. It is just a tree that grows the way its genetics have programmed it to. It is not overcoming anything. But I perceived it as doing just that and put meaning to it. Why? Why did I hide that a tree is just a tree? Why did I add a layer of mystification to the tree? Why do we write about something that is nothing more than that object with prose and imagery and ideas that may not even pertain to it? Why do we sing about these things? Why do we paint these things? Why do we give meaning to nothing?
Because we are human and the way we are designed has wired us to NEED meaning in our lives, in everything that we do, to feel important, and to feel like we are significant in the world, in the realm of being. How large is the realm in which we live? How vast? If you judge the realm in terms of earth, then you have a slight significance. But what about beyond what you see? The sky is an illusion. Inhale. What are you breathing in chemical terms? That is sky.
The sky, what people have praised and cursed and thought so much of, is what we breathe, is a trick of the light. We perceive meanings in this expanse of blue, but there is no meaning.
For hundreds of years people, civilizations, had believed that everything revolved around us, humans. When it was proved that we revolved around the sun, we, as a race, rebelled. Why? Because it proved that we were that much more insignificant. We were that much more in denial. Man has an innate need to be important and influential.
In more modern times, we have the theory of evolution that people (mainly religious) rebel against. Why? Because it proves that we are just an accident of nature, that we were not created by some being with the intention of consciousness. We just came into existence.
Humans are an accident, just like everything else. Consciousness was an accident. Advanced thought has been ostracized for years, till somewhere along the line the same genetic defect that allowed the first person’s idea to come to focus comes around in more numerous quantities and we finally accept that idea as truth. All truths we have found were always there, but we needed a genetic defect to fester and come through in a “survival of the fittest” scenario in order for us to perceive them.
What is truth? We are nothing. A tree is just a tree. The sky is an illusion. We were not created. Humans need meaning in their lives because we need to feel important, significant in some way.
I am Nothing (a new poem, and other ramblings)
I am nothing
I am Content in this knowledge
i curl up in it as in the womb.
The breeze can pick me up off the ground
as if i were dust
and it carries me into my nothingness
For i am nothing
I feel nothing
I speak nothing
I think nothing
for i am nothing
and i am happy
September 30,2008
i am at peace. i was listening to Johnny Cash’s remake of NIN’s “Hurt” and had the overwhelming urge to run outside to just behind the art buildings and lay down on the grass. just to feel gravity pushing me into the ground, and to see the sky above me, endless, and yet not truly there. i closed my eyes and listened to the aspen leaves fluttering in the breeze off the bay. i listened to the hundreds of people driving by oblivious to the world around them on their river of cement called the freeway. when i opened my eyes, these words (the poem) was on my lips bursting forth in a faint whisper of air. so quiet yet to me they were absolute truth. in the great scheme of things, i am nothing. and i am content in the fact that i will always be nothing. the world will still work without me, as well as it works with me. the sun will still rise and set whether or not i see it. and it makes me happy. i am bursting with joy at this knowledge. i can do what i wish. if i wanted to i could start over, from scratch. i could be someone new, and yet be myself. and nothing would change in the world, the universe, nothing would change. so i am nothing. the breeze will take me. and i am content. i can giggle at the little people who think that they are of consequence, and i can know that we are all insignificant. and i am happy. i changed in that moment that i ran out of my room barefoot to answer the call of freedom. i am now a different person, though when i see you , or meet you in the street i will look no different. i will act no different. i will be me, the same as i ever was, but there will be something different in my eyes, in a mannerism i may use, but you won’t be able to put your finger on it. until you realize this great truth, that I am nothing, that we are nothing, until you accept your insignificance, you will not understand my joy, my freedom, my purpose to life. I AM NOTHING and I AM HAPPY, I AM CONTENT. i wish you were too.
