Today I went back and looked at my old Xanga account that has been abandoned for over three years. I forgot how much I loved that account. It's interesting to see the things that you blogged about in the past. I must confess, I thought I'd read my old self with disgust, but that was not my experience. You realize how much you've grown just by rereading yourself. Clicking through the links felt like revisting an old friend, or more like running your fingers down through the dust that has covered a loved book that you seem to have forgotten. I looked at the old profiles of friends and had to laugh. My favorite had to be Brittany rising out of a box and staring at the camera. Alas, those carefree highschool days are over and all that is left is our memories. Looking at us now it seems that we are fragmented, though slightly improved versions of our former selves that have moved on and made other friends and have found new things to love. I must wonder why gazing through our cyber memories makes me feel like I've seen the ghost of a beloved friend. ...And why do I feel so cold toward the future? Days like these make me want to revisit those times and see who we were without the kaleidscope lens that the present presses over our eyes. What is it in us that makes us long for the past even when we know that are future is all that can be?
These days I find myself busy writing papers, reading plays like A Doll's House or running to class so I won't be late, but trying not to sprain my ankle. Back then I was attempting to act and dreaming about writing fantasy novels for teens. I spent hours trying to find new metal bands to listen to and carving out my identity trying to structure the image of who I thought I wanted to be. I raged on the inside to be something great, but found that it's hard to shape yourself with hands made of clay. I find that I'm a broken version of who I thought I'd be, and somehow I'm okay with differing from my original plan... because I'd don't want all those things anymore.
Well... I feel like if I try to write much more I'll over anaylze and delete what I have. I'll try to form a theme with imagery and I have other work to do. So, you will have to cope with having this terribly imperfect copy on my page. I'm sorry if you think it sucks... no actually I'm not.
PS: Dear reader if you don't listen to the music that is to the right of this post while you read you're missing out on part of the experience. Please don't cheat yourself.
Yours truely,
Nicole
Being a writer can be dangerous business; maybe not in the physical sense, but more because it effects the psyche. Since childhood I've often found myself drifting off to other places in my mind. But if I drift too far reality doesn't seem real, and it becomes secondary to the world that I've created. I can fade into myself so much that I become evanescent to the real world. When this happens I can't relate to the rest of the world or the world can't relate to me. (Sometimes both) The worlds that I create in my mind are like waking dreams that I live through; they are the transcending gardens of dreamers and only dreamers know how to find them. What's worse than fading inside of myself is probably walking through a normal life half-sleep and half-waking in the world created in the mind. What does this have to do with writing? Well, I write so I can live in the ordinary world, so I can put my waking dreams away like a child does her toys. So why is it dangerous? Well, by writing you explore both the light and shadow of the human spirit. In doing so you look into the darkness of yourself, sometimes the appearance of the void and sometimes I become isolated from what's outside of my mind. When I'm cut off from the people I care about...it's like I'm locked inside a large room and can't get out no matter how bruised my fists become when I bang on the door, or how my nails tear when I try to scale the walls and reach the window. So, I am alone in a room that I can't get out of the room was fun when I wanted to play. But I am thankful for the escape from both reality and the other world. Thank God for both.
According to blogthings.com my personality is 3 parts whimsy, 2 parts nonconformity and 1 part devilry. Add a splash of friendship and serve it over ice. I find that VERY funny. Anyway once again I am tired and I'll leave you with a poem that has touched me... ::sniff:: (I must appologize for not leaving you with a real post but I figured that this was better than no post at all so...)
Ahem:
Tangier
There's no salvation in elsewhere;
forget the horizon, the seductive sky.
If nothing's here, nothing's there.
I know. Once I escaped to Tangier,
took the same face, the same lie.
There's no salvation in elsewhere
when elsewhere has empty rooms, mirrors.
Everywhere: the captial I.
If nothing's here, nothing's there
unless, of course, your motive's secure;
not therapy, but joy
salvation an idea left behind, elsewhere,
like overweight baggage or yesteryear.
The fundamental things apply.
If nothing's here, nothing's there--
I brought with me my own imperfect air.
The streets were noise. The heart dry.
There was no salvation in elsewhere.
I came with nothing, found nothing there.
--- Steven Dunn
Dr. Seuss put it this way: No matter where you go there you are.
Bye now.
I don't think I can write a very long post right now....
Instead I'll leave you with a haiku and maybe three from me it depends on how I feel...
the piercing cold--
in our bedroom stepping
on my dead wife's comb
Buson Yosa
And from yours truely:
Blooming azeleas
Shudder in flurries of snow
Waiting for sunlight
Fleeing winter chill
Hollow red butterflies sail
Down the gravel path
Purple flowers dry
Pressed between slender leaves
Of black and white
I know it was short. No whining. I'll be back soon... I hope.
So, one thing that I've noticed about myself lately that's starting to bother me is...I'm sarcastic. I've always known that I've been that way and it hasn't ever bothered me until rescently. I find myself returning sarcasm with people who don't really deserve it; a lot of my remarks are very bitting. And if someone says something sarcastic I can't help but retort. I can't just laugh it off or anything... it really just feels like I just can't shut my mouth.
On another note. I started to make a list of some of my favorite movies in my head and though they don't really have an order the following are definately in my top ten:
Kill Bill vol. 1
Kill Bill vol. 2
Role Models (very funny by the way)
Fight Club
Howl's Moving Castle
Slum Dog Milloinare
...It's not finished. Heh, heh. A list of songs I currently listen to on a regular basis
You're Not Sorry-Taylor Swift (CSI Mix)
Nowhere Warm-Kate Havnevik
I Don't Know You-Kate Havnevik
Quicksand-Natalie Walker
Misery Business-Sea of Treachery v. Paramore
Astral Romance-Nightwish (of course)
So, I don't know about you guys but my spring break just wasn't long enough...though I am glad for the much needed break. It would seem that I have spring fever and don't wish to deal with the stress of certain classes, but somehow I do. Lately I've been much happier and glad to say so... It seems that the warm weather has braught all this relief with it.
I wish I knew what I really wanted to say.
For the past year I've been struggling with myself... I was lost in some sort of haze and couldn't find my way out but now it seems that I'm much better... Hopefully I won't hit another circumstance like for in while...
I got a new book yesterday. It made me pretty happy...however, buying books is sometimes is forbidden. You see I have been badly upbraided by mother about buying them as they are, sometime, a "waste of money" I however disagree and occasionally rebel and buy a novel or book of poetry.
On another note I can't wait till summer. I want to go to the beach, an amusement park, a consert; have an adventure, ANYTHING would be good I'm certain. But I have to work, but hopefully I can find away. I'm really looking forward to swimming this year; I need a new swimsuit though... Ah, this summer just won't be the same without going to Starbucks...curse them for shutting it down but I guess places like Cups and Fusion are just as good.
Well I suppose I should stop rambling...see ya!
So, I'm currently busy (or at least I'm suppose to be) researching random bits for Anitative Bib... but I thought that I'd take some time to distract myself with blogging. For those of you who still read this: greetings.
So blogging is generally talking about yourself and toughts, feelings and maybe some issue that you find important... It seems that I don't have much to say about any of those...
On a random note... I'm at a point with God that I have to say 'Who are you?' even though it really feels like I've been screaming this on the inside for sometime... after I ran off and did my own thing (of course) then came crawling back, weeping and asking 'why do I hurt so bad?' I know that really I kinda did it to myself, but I think it couldn't be helped and that I had to go through that pain to realize things about myself and others for that matter... I suppose that I walked away from the whole break up ordeal a bit wiser... it sounds kind of lame saying that but I did realize a lot of things about myself and in retrospect... I realize that my relational skills need improving... and I'm still learning. One thing that I'm afraid is that I'll never feel the same again... but I guess it can't be helped and that I'll have to bare my teeth and deal with it, it's just part of life, yeah? I guess now I'm really searching for what I should do in life and I find satisfaction in my classes even if it is strange. I'm not sure where that leaves me and God... I suppose that I'm looking for WHO he is now because... I wanna know.
Well sorry for the totally rambling post. I know it was probably difficult to follow that train of random thought... Well later.
