Day Two of the Challenge! Of course after something you hate, you have to follow with something you love. In my case, it's a bit harder to do; I'm still young and I'm learning myself. I like a lot of things about myself, but when it comes down to what I love only one big thing sticks out.
Once, my mother hired an older Hispanic man to come and fix our washer and dryer. He spoke very little English, I speak very little Spanish, but somehow we understood each other and he got the washer fixed with my help. When my mother showed up later, the man's son had also shown up to cart away the old dryer and help install the new one. Instead the elder man, Mr. Hernandez, called to me (I think he called me pequena which means "small one") and showed me how to fix the new dryer if anything ever happened. At the end of the day, in his broken English, he told me that it meant a lot that I was patient and observant because not a lot of people are. He told me I had a beautiful soul and gave me a hug.
I once knew a deaf guy in my last semester. I could only "speak" so much sign language, but one of my friends could and he translated to me. The guy had seen me around helping people, having fun, and being myself and he told me I had a golden soul. Things like this happen to me all the time and I've learned to take them in stride but every time I hear them it makes my heart get all heavy and junk.
I don't know what it is in me that calls to people, that makes them want to be themselves, or be better than they are, but I've had many past associates tell me that just seeing me be myself silently gave them the courage to do the same. I'm reminded of a quote by Maryanne Williamson about our greatest fears. When I give my light, my spirit, permission to shine, others automatically seem to follow suit and we are all brighter for it in the end.
So if I had to pick one thing that I love most about myself, it's my spirit. My spirit is kind, genuine, and apparently very vibrant. It's gotten me monikers and handles like "Tes the Sweetheart" and "Sugarlump," which I can live with (it's better than the alternative, right?) So with the ease it brings to others, and the solace it brings to me, my kind spirit is the thing I love most about myself.
Don't forget, you can take the challenge too! No pressure though ;)
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
1. I Hate That I Can't Adapt Faster...
So I was reading around the web about a 30 Days of Truth Challenge* and wondered two things. 1) Could I possibly blog 30 days straight? 2) What could be gained from taking the challenge? The answers are possibly, and I don't know. But it sounds interesting enough so I'll start it anyway and see how it goes.
I don't hate many things or many people. In fact I don't think I have the capacity to hate another person or thing. I do hate ideas, and the things people do, but never the people themselves or the ideas themselves but rather what they represent for other people. That being said, I hate my life in Texas.
I've lived here for seven years all together, a few in Killeen and a few in San Antonio, and no matter where I am in the state I just feel so trapped. There's a lot to do; you can visit the Alamo, you can go to Six Flags, you can go to Cold Stone (admittedly their ice cream disturbs me as it looks like somebody threw a bunch of stuff together and put it on a cone). But what is there to do for a girl like me with so much wanting? I've been to the museums, I've been to the art galleries. I've been to Six Flags a few times, I've been to the Alamo. But where are the earthy poetry places? Where are the lounges for the 20-somethings wanting to discuss everything from politics to facts of life? Where are the people like me?
I've also noted that I get really depressed here. I didn't notice it until I moved away to stay with my father for about a year. With him I seemed to flourish, albeit after a brief period of "new home fear";I was afraid that if I started living there, I would be shipped away, so I tried to not do anything and keep my head down for half a year. But boy, when I finally started living did I ever live. My schoolwork slacked a bit (okay a lot) but I had close friends who I did everything with, I had things to do on the weekend, I tutored people for a little extra cash, and I finally felt like I was living my life instead of waiting for it.
My father was away a lot, but living in his house I felt his presence, and he'd call all the time so we could just talk and reconnect with each other. I've always been a daddy's girl, but I think that's because I feel like my father encourages me a lot more than my mother does; I feel he's always on my side, where sometimes I wonder if my mother even likes me at all.
Eventually though, he had to go and save the world, which put me in the position of either finding a job and a place in 30 days, or coming back to Texas. I tried my hardest those last thirty days. I had a few interviews that nobody knew about (which I think is an issue with me; I don't like people to know I'm doing things unless they pan out in the end) and went to the unemployment office. I found an apartment for a few hundred but without the job I couldn't keep pulling the landlord's chain. Eventually I had to move back. I think that's the saddest I'd ever been in my life.
At first, it didn't seem so bad. I got a seasonal job at a clothing store and I applied for school, but none of that seemed to be enough, at least not for mother. I had to get a better job, go to a better school, and do so as soon as possible. I know she means well when she pushes, and I know she doesn't mean to come off to me the way she does, but I get so dispirited by the things she says sometimes. I don't have many friends here and the ones I do are usually working. I'm searching for jobs everyday. I'm trying to make it work, but it seems it won't end up according to plan. But then again, what ever does?
So the thing I hate about myself is that I can't adapt to life as fast as others need me to and I hate that a bi-product of that is being disenchanted with my own life.
*If you're interested in the 30 Days of Truth Challenge, the list is http://hope.gr/30-days-of-truth/ there.
I don't hate many things or many people. In fact I don't think I have the capacity to hate another person or thing. I do hate ideas, and the things people do, but never the people themselves or the ideas themselves but rather what they represent for other people. That being said, I hate my life in Texas.
I've lived here for seven years all together, a few in Killeen and a few in San Antonio, and no matter where I am in the state I just feel so trapped. There's a lot to do; you can visit the Alamo, you can go to Six Flags, you can go to Cold Stone (admittedly their ice cream disturbs me as it looks like somebody threw a bunch of stuff together and put it on a cone). But what is there to do for a girl like me with so much wanting? I've been to the museums, I've been to the art galleries. I've been to Six Flags a few times, I've been to the Alamo. But where are the earthy poetry places? Where are the lounges for the 20-somethings wanting to discuss everything from politics to facts of life? Where are the people like me?
I've also noted that I get really depressed here. I didn't notice it until I moved away to stay with my father for about a year. With him I seemed to flourish, albeit after a brief period of "new home fear";I was afraid that if I started living there, I would be shipped away, so I tried to not do anything and keep my head down for half a year. But boy, when I finally started living did I ever live. My schoolwork slacked a bit (okay a lot) but I had close friends who I did everything with, I had things to do on the weekend, I tutored people for a little extra cash, and I finally felt like I was living my life instead of waiting for it.
My father was away a lot, but living in his house I felt his presence, and he'd call all the time so we could just talk and reconnect with each other. I've always been a daddy's girl, but I think that's because I feel like my father encourages me a lot more than my mother does; I feel he's always on my side, where sometimes I wonder if my mother even likes me at all.
Eventually though, he had to go and save the world, which put me in the position of either finding a job and a place in 30 days, or coming back to Texas. I tried my hardest those last thirty days. I had a few interviews that nobody knew about (which I think is an issue with me; I don't like people to know I'm doing things unless they pan out in the end) and went to the unemployment office. I found an apartment for a few hundred but without the job I couldn't keep pulling the landlord's chain. Eventually I had to move back. I think that's the saddest I'd ever been in my life.
At first, it didn't seem so bad. I got a seasonal job at a clothing store and I applied for school, but none of that seemed to be enough, at least not for mother. I had to get a better job, go to a better school, and do so as soon as possible. I know she means well when she pushes, and I know she doesn't mean to come off to me the way she does, but I get so dispirited by the things she says sometimes. I don't have many friends here and the ones I do are usually working. I'm searching for jobs everyday. I'm trying to make it work, but it seems it won't end up according to plan. But then again, what ever does?
So the thing I hate about myself is that I can't adapt to life as fast as others need me to and I hate that a bi-product of that is being disenchanted with my own life.
*If you're interested in the 30 Days of Truth Challenge, the list is http://hope.gr/30-days-of-truth/ there.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Respect - Not Just an Aretha Song
I respect myself. I think anybody who knows of me will know that from jump street. I respect my mind, my body, my spirit. Alladat. But what I'm realizing is that not everyone holds that same kind of respect for themselves, and not everyone will extend that kind of respect to you. So what's a girl in my position supposed to do with that?
I was talking to my friend George who told me that nice girls finish last and good girls never finish (no that's not exactly what he said, but it's exactly what he meant). Because I'm a nice, good girl I take offense to that; just because I don't do what everyone else is doing or think what they think, I'm never going to finish? He said that girls like me have to work to find somebody to "take us" because we're usually picky, short-sighted and have hang ups like you wouldn't believe. Yes, I'm selective (pardon me for liking men who read more than I like men who don't), and yes, I can sometimes be short-sighted, but all of those things don't make it so that somebody has to "take me" (read as: put up with me/settle for me).
I don't think a lot of women respect themselves. I don't think they know that they're worth is in more than what they can do for a man, but who they are to him and most important who they are to and for themselves. And I think men (my age especially but not exclusively) don't have patience for respectable women. In this microwave generation, for every girl that doesn't put out, there are maybe 5 or more who do. For every girl that says something isn't up to her standards, there are 10 or more who settle. I always try to remind myself of that when a guy hits on me in a completely wrong way ("Say guh, how much your rent is? I'll pay it.") that somewhere in some point in his life that works. It's disheartening.
I believe you are only worth what you think you are; if you're not willing to look at yourself and think of you as more than parts and limits then how is anyone else going to see anything else about you? The fact that I hold so stringently to my morals and beliefs may make it look like I'm too picky, but the fact remains that there's not too much to my ideal guy: he's kind, he's smart, he reads, he's respectful and he's creative. The rest is up for discovery. Is it difficult for men to rise to those standards or is it the fact that other women don't make them want to rise to those standards that makes it so hard for girls like me? And why am I deemed the black sheep for wanting a guy who either possesses or is willing to cultivate those things?
What is respect really worth if it doesn't get you any closer to your goal? Is it worth lowering already low standards to let everyone in, or to keep them and wait for the right one? I often fear my timidness and ardent adherence to my morals will scare men off, but then I remember that if that scares them, there are other women out there for them.
I was talking to my friend George who told me that nice girls finish last and good girls never finish (no that's not exactly what he said, but it's exactly what he meant). Because I'm a nice, good girl I take offense to that; just because I don't do what everyone else is doing or think what they think, I'm never going to finish? He said that girls like me have to work to find somebody to "take us" because we're usually picky, short-sighted and have hang ups like you wouldn't believe. Yes, I'm selective (pardon me for liking men who read more than I like men who don't), and yes, I can sometimes be short-sighted, but all of those things don't make it so that somebody has to "take me" (read as: put up with me/settle for me).
I don't think a lot of women respect themselves. I don't think they know that they're worth is in more than what they can do for a man, but who they are to him and most important who they are to and for themselves. And I think men (my age especially but not exclusively) don't have patience for respectable women. In this microwave generation, for every girl that doesn't put out, there are maybe 5 or more who do. For every girl that says something isn't up to her standards, there are 10 or more who settle. I always try to remind myself of that when a guy hits on me in a completely wrong way ("Say guh, how much your rent is? I'll pay it.") that somewhere in some point in his life that works. It's disheartening.
I believe you are only worth what you think you are; if you're not willing to look at yourself and think of you as more than parts and limits then how is anyone else going to see anything else about you? The fact that I hold so stringently to my morals and beliefs may make it look like I'm too picky, but the fact remains that there's not too much to my ideal guy: he's kind, he's smart, he reads, he's respectful and he's creative. The rest is up for discovery. Is it difficult for men to rise to those standards or is it the fact that other women don't make them want to rise to those standards that makes it so hard for girls like me? And why am I deemed the black sheep for wanting a guy who either possesses or is willing to cultivate those things?
What is respect really worth if it doesn't get you any closer to your goal? Is it worth lowering already low standards to let everyone in, or to keep them and wait for the right one? I often fear my timidness and ardent adherence to my morals will scare men off, but then I remember that if that scares them, there are other women out there for them.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Meaningful Relationships Have To Mean Something...Right?
I love my parents. I understand that a lot of people love their parents, but for clarity's sake, I love them the most. I feel like, because they were teen parents and none of their friends had children either, they grew up with me in a way. My dad would play video games with me when he was home from saving the world, and my mom would get me books to read that were above my level and read them with me. They were my parents, they were my friends (to an extent) and they were the only constant I had in my life.
When I got older and my parents' military life slowed down some, they would either send me or we would all go to spend time where we were from. I didn't like it much; everyone there treated me different. I was either treated special, or treated with the littlest respect a child could be rewarded and there was rarely an in-between. My extended family were strangers to me, as I grew up abroad and away from them and that chasm has never been mended. I try with my grandmothers (and my grandfathers who, though very different, speak with the same grunting, lovableness that makes me smile) because I remember and know them, but aunts, uncles, cousins...they all fall to the wayside.
Admittedly I don't make much of an effort with them; my aunts and uncles never seem to make an effort with me (unless my father tells them to) and my cousins and I, though not far in age, are far in wisdom and experience and thus have little to discuss. I wish I could talk to my grandmothers more; I want to know about them and who they were when they were my age. How did they get here in their life? If they could impart only one thing with me, what would it be?
I'm not sure if my lack of enthusiasm with my own family translates in other places. I make friends easily, but find that I don't like keeping most of them as what we initially had in common is sometimes the only thing we have in common. I have a few friendships that I've maintained for years but many that never get out of infancy. I'm always thinking ahead with people; if I see they are drama filled for a majority of the time I'm with them, it's safe to assume they'll be drama filled if we remain friends. Can people change? Sure, but not as rapidly as it would take for me to not get accosted while with them, and therein is the problem. Should I make these relationships knowing that they may never be what I need?
I suppose my parents raised me to be okay alone; I'm an only child with a library that spans nearly three bookshelves, a hunger for knowledge, and great taste in music and movies (not to toot my own horn or anything) and all these things are things I've learned from them. Not to mention I can play a mean console game. Back to the point; I've been okay alone for so long that I suppose I'm used to the loneliness, but the fact still remains that I need a connection with someone. It doesn't have to be romantic (like my best friend keeps telling me is what I want), and it doesn't have to last forever, but it has to enrich me in some way.
Am I too much of a forward thinker? Do all relationships have to mean something to be cultivated? Am I just scared of people and have a latent fear that people will leave due to my military upbringing? Most importantly, is there any way around this?
When I got older and my parents' military life slowed down some, they would either send me or we would all go to spend time where we were from. I didn't like it much; everyone there treated me different. I was either treated special, or treated with the littlest respect a child could be rewarded and there was rarely an in-between. My extended family were strangers to me, as I grew up abroad and away from them and that chasm has never been mended. I try with my grandmothers (and my grandfathers who, though very different, speak with the same grunting, lovableness that makes me smile) because I remember and know them, but aunts, uncles, cousins...they all fall to the wayside.
Admittedly I don't make much of an effort with them; my aunts and uncles never seem to make an effort with me (unless my father tells them to) and my cousins and I, though not far in age, are far in wisdom and experience and thus have little to discuss. I wish I could talk to my grandmothers more; I want to know about them and who they were when they were my age. How did they get here in their life? If they could impart only one thing with me, what would it be?
I'm not sure if my lack of enthusiasm with my own family translates in other places. I make friends easily, but find that I don't like keeping most of them as what we initially had in common is sometimes the only thing we have in common. I have a few friendships that I've maintained for years but many that never get out of infancy. I'm always thinking ahead with people; if I see they are drama filled for a majority of the time I'm with them, it's safe to assume they'll be drama filled if we remain friends. Can people change? Sure, but not as rapidly as it would take for me to not get accosted while with them, and therein is the problem. Should I make these relationships knowing that they may never be what I need?
I suppose my parents raised me to be okay alone; I'm an only child with a library that spans nearly three bookshelves, a hunger for knowledge, and great taste in music and movies (not to toot my own horn or anything) and all these things are things I've learned from them. Not to mention I can play a mean console game. Back to the point; I've been okay alone for so long that I suppose I'm used to the loneliness, but the fact still remains that I need a connection with someone. It doesn't have to be romantic (like my best friend keeps telling me is what I want), and it doesn't have to last forever, but it has to enrich me in some way.
Am I too much of a forward thinker? Do all relationships have to mean something to be cultivated? Am I just scared of people and have a latent fear that people will leave due to my military upbringing? Most importantly, is there any way around this?
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Going Natural is Working for Me
My last relaxer was disastrous. It burned my scalp in one large area that wept for three days. My mother said that was the price of beauty and at that point, warm water rushing over an oozing chemical burn I realize that kind of beauty? So. Not. Worth it. So I've been transitioning to natural hair for about a month and I've noticed a few things, not only about myself but those around me.
1) I needed a routine. I'm not fond of doing the same thing all the time. I dislike schedules. I don't usually plan to do things, I just feel the need to do them and do them. That's not going to work with natural hair. Natural hair needs time. Natural hair needs a set of rules and routines for it to grow healthy and strong. While realizing this I realized life was similar. Life needs structure, and just because I want it to just be free-flowing and what not doesn't make it so and doesn't make it healthy. So in that vein I've started planning more and sticking to a routine. It's toughbecause I'm lazy because I've never had to stick to anything before and now, for my health all around, I have to.
2) Not everybody understands why I'm doing it. My grandmother on my father's side, Nana, has been straightening my hair for as long as I can remember; she thinks I'm doing it to ward off people. My Gram thinks it's awesome and that I'm doing it to be trendy. My Dad doesn't really care why I'm doing it, he just doesn't want it to cost much. The reason I'm doing it is because I feel like the real me is in there. The real me is hiding in the curly-kinky-coily roots that are now growing naturally from my scalp as God intended. That's amazing. It's incredible. To think that I've never felt my natural texture until a few weeks ago and now I can't keep my hands out of it. I'm doing it for me.
3) The natural hair care blogs are saying it's a "journey" and a "trial" and all these other phrases...not quite. In my mind all those things denote struggle and strife and a world chocked full of people who don't understand. I have a support system who knows that I'm doing this and are behind me. I have a blast doing things for my hair and learning new things about it. Going natural is like anything else in life; you just have to jump in it with faith and a good spirit and hope everything turns out fine in the end.
4) The looks are different. I'm only at an inch or so of natural and five or so inches of relaxed ends. The looks I get from people now are they're actually noticing me (hair first, eyes, boobs, then back to hair). As a perpetual wall flower I'm not used to being noticed so often so I get a little paranoid and wondering if people are having Don Imus monologues about me and my hair in their heads. I have to tell myself that it's time I was noticed and that it's time I became a person and not an ornament in a room. Plus, most likely nobody's thinking that exact thing; they're most likely saying "Wow, she's reading and walking at the same time, that's tough!"
5) It makes you want to be better. Personally, I'm always content with just being "above average." I've been that way since maybe middle school when I noticed that knowledge and learning was easier for me. I could coast and get above average grades. I could coast and be above average socially. I could coast on life and nobody would be any the wiser. That was a cop out. Now I feel so socially inept sometimes that I just stay in my room and read. There are times now when my college work gets hard and I freak out because I never learned how to effectively study and fight for the grades I got. I started going natural a month ago and since then, my grades are better. I'm trying to find friends here in this do-nothing city. I'm trying to be better than I am. I think that had I just continued straightening I would've just gotten deeper into the depression of coasting. Coasting doesn't give you options, it limits them, just like, in my opinion, being relaxed limited my hair's potential.
I'm not saying this is the norm for everyone. Some women go natural and relaxed in cycles, some women chop off all their hair and cry into their pillows at night. Some women get so many chemical burns on their scalp that over time, the hair won't grow anymore. I'm doing this for me. I'm doing this to better myself. I'm doing this, even in the face of my own fears of inadequacy. I'm doing this.
Does fear of being different hinder us in the long run or protect us? Do feelings of inadequacy ever get validated outside of ourselves or is it primarily us that set up these limitations?
1) I needed a routine. I'm not fond of doing the same thing all the time. I dislike schedules. I don't usually plan to do things, I just feel the need to do them and do them. That's not going to work with natural hair. Natural hair needs time. Natural hair needs a set of rules and routines for it to grow healthy and strong. While realizing this I realized life was similar. Life needs structure, and just because I want it to just be free-flowing and what not doesn't make it so and doesn't make it healthy. So in that vein I've started planning more and sticking to a routine. It's tough
2) Not everybody understands why I'm doing it. My grandmother on my father's side, Nana, has been straightening my hair for as long as I can remember; she thinks I'm doing it to ward off people. My Gram thinks it's awesome and that I'm doing it to be trendy. My Dad doesn't really care why I'm doing it, he just doesn't want it to cost much. The reason I'm doing it is because I feel like the real me is in there. The real me is hiding in the curly-kinky-coily roots that are now growing naturally from my scalp as God intended. That's amazing. It's incredible. To think that I've never felt my natural texture until a few weeks ago and now I can't keep my hands out of it. I'm doing it for me.
3) The natural hair care blogs are saying it's a "journey" and a "trial" and all these other phrases...not quite. In my mind all those things denote struggle and strife and a world chocked full of people who don't understand. I have a support system who knows that I'm doing this and are behind me. I have a blast doing things for my hair and learning new things about it. Going natural is like anything else in life; you just have to jump in it with faith and a good spirit and hope everything turns out fine in the end.
4) The looks are different. I'm only at an inch or so of natural and five or so inches of relaxed ends. The looks I get from people now are they're actually noticing me (hair first, eyes, boobs, then back to hair). As a perpetual wall flower I'm not used to being noticed so often so I get a little paranoid and wondering if people are having Don Imus monologues about me and my hair in their heads. I have to tell myself that it's time I was noticed and that it's time I became a person and not an ornament in a room. Plus, most likely nobody's thinking that exact thing; they're most likely saying "Wow, she's reading and walking at the same time, that's tough!"
5) It makes you want to be better. Personally, I'm always content with just being "above average." I've been that way since maybe middle school when I noticed that knowledge and learning was easier for me. I could coast and get above average grades. I could coast and be above average socially. I could coast on life and nobody would be any the wiser. That was a cop out. Now I feel so socially inept sometimes that I just stay in my room and read. There are times now when my college work gets hard and I freak out because I never learned how to effectively study and fight for the grades I got. I started going natural a month ago and since then, my grades are better. I'm trying to find friends here in this do-nothing city. I'm trying to be better than I am. I think that had I just continued straightening I would've just gotten deeper into the depression of coasting. Coasting doesn't give you options, it limits them, just like, in my opinion, being relaxed limited my hair's potential.
I'm not saying this is the norm for everyone. Some women go natural and relaxed in cycles, some women chop off all their hair and cry into their pillows at night. Some women get so many chemical burns on their scalp that over time, the hair won't grow anymore. I'm doing this for me. I'm doing this to better myself. I'm doing this, even in the face of my own fears of inadequacy. I'm doing this.
Does fear of being different hinder us in the long run or protect us? Do feelings of inadequacy ever get validated outside of ourselves or is it primarily us that set up these limitations?
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Musings (1)
A lot of my time I spend thinking. My mother thinks it's a bad thing (because I think and don't live in her opinion) but I think (see what I did there?) that those who act without thought are usually the ones who end up somewhere they don't want to be. Not every thought I have is gonna take me somewhere, but I muse a lot of the time (mostly between classes) and figured I should start keeping lists of them. So here goes!
What about you guys? How often do you just muse on things? And what do you think about children getting dumber, or rather, what do you think we can do as a community and country to reverse that? Can fortune cookies give good advice? Am I wrong for wanting to plan things out before I tell people (even if that prohibits movement for the time being)?
XoXo,
Tes
- How much is respect really worth? I know there are men who die for respect and fights get started over it, but with me being me and being respected so much by objects of my affection...it just doesn't seem to cut it. "I respect you" is like the new way of saying "You're awesome, but I wouldn't date you" at least by the dudes in my age bracket. Does it mean something else once you get older?
- Teaching is calling me but I'm trying to ignore the call. I don't want to get caught up in the "Rah rah!" of it all and forget that, as an advanced student, I was completely privy to all the crap teachers have to put up with, not just from parents but other teachers, their kids, the school, the board, the state... When children are getting progressively dumber with each passing generation (google it - it'll scare the crap out of you) and parents tending to coddle and throw them to the lions so to speak, that leaves a small window of opportunity for educators to try and pull something out of these kids. I think I have the moxy for it, but I'm so damn anal about everything I think I'd get disillusioned really quickly. And I don't even like kids.
- There are a lot of creepers out there. A lot of creepers. From the ones who leer at me from car windows, to the ones who call me their soul mate after knowing me two days. I know logically not every dude I meet is going to be a creeper, but it's gotten to the point I expect dudes to be creepy which is so no bueno. For instance I met a guy at school who seemed perfectly normal. Asked me out on a date, super polite, all that jazz girls really like, right? Wrong. He called me that whole first night, texted me that whole next day, and invited himself over to my house (without the directions, cause please believe I'm not that far behind the curve) when I told him emphatically that I like to go slow. *facepalm* I realize you gotta kiss a lot of frogs to get your prince or whatever, but this parade of froggy creepers is starting to look like a sign of the apocalypse.
- I wanted to be a home-maker today. See, everyday, because I don't know what I want to do with my life (though everyone around me assumes I should by now) I go through careers in my head, or what I know of them rather, and see if I could fit there. Housewives are cool
unless they're being televised from every major and minor city/town/province in America;they maintain the house, which sounds easy but requires lots of planning and charts and calendars. I could do planning and charts and calendars. But later, I went to a Chinese restaurant and opened my fortune cookie and it said "Avoid uncomplicated jobs; they will squander your talent." Really though? The one time I even open a fortune cookie and it has to be relevant like that? On to the next one then... - I don't like outings with my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love her dearly. But sometimes I just look at her and wanna hug her throat. She tells people things about me in a tone that says "Isn't that the stupidest thing you ever heard?" or "Mmhm, right like she can do any of that." No, before you go there, that's not what she says, but it's all in the tone. I also don't like how she volunteers me for things; her friends will need a baby sitter and she'll say "Oh, Tes can do it, she's not doing anything." Okay, that may be true, but who says I want rugrats intruding on my nothingness? I feel like the Bentley to her Diddy, and even Bentley got tired of getting wet after awhile. That's all I'm saying.
- I need to get a
interestingjob. I'm sending out resumes and calling a bunch of places but I keep getting the same answers. I don't like to tell people that I'm trying, because then they impose themselves onto, into and all around my plan; I like to have my ducks in a row before I tell anybody, which I don't see anything particularly wrong with...but is it wrong? Do people need to know what I'm doing for their own peace of mind? - I want to live in a cabin with running water and Internet, with an awesome antique bookstore in the town a few miles away from it. I don't know where I'm gonna find it, how I'm gonna afford it, or even if it's possible, but I am surely going to try my hardest to get it.
What about you guys? How often do you just muse on things? And what do you think about children getting dumber, or rather, what do you think we can do as a community and country to reverse that? Can fortune cookies give good advice? Am I wrong for wanting to plan things out before I tell people (even if that prohibits movement for the time being)?
XoXo,
Tes
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Knowing and Understanding = Two Different Things
When I was sixteen, I knew absolutely everything. Mom would tell me to do my homework and I'd say "I know Ma." Dad would tell me I needed to get up for school and I'd say "I know Dad." Sometimes they wouldn't even finish their statement and I would interrupt with "I know!" And it was the truth, I did know, but I usually didn't understand.
I never knew how infuriating that must be - to have someone say "Yes, I know," and know that they didn't understand. My best friend and I have this circular discussion about once a month about how I feel and what I think and I swear, if she was sitting next to me when we were talking about it, I'd hug her throat.
The conversation is one of love and life, living and existing. I think too much, says she, and I don't go out and do enough in my life. Friend or no friend, that's wrong; how are you going to tell me what I am and am not doing? What I do and do not feel? And the more she talked, the madder I got. I told her that she didn't understand and she said she did, but the more she talked the more I realized she didn't.
She doesn't understand what loneliness and fear feel like inside of my soul, she only knows what they feel like for her. She doesn't understand where I'm coming from because she doesn't understand or even know where I am in my life at this point. Eventually I told her the conversation was over, because we were getting nowhere with each other and the conversation ended (for this month at least).
She knows who I am and what I think about most things, but she does not, for all that knowledge, understand that much about me, or not as much as she thinks she does. And the more she says she does the more I feel like she's belittling anything I've said prior or anything I could say after to the point where I just shut down on her which benefits neither of us.
There are parts of me, parts of my soul that are so hidden from other people because I fear the let down that I feel always comes with trusting people. I fear moving too quickly; those who move quickly make rash and usually wrong decisions. I fear becoming a catlady, especially when it seems everyone around me is pairing off like they've gotten the call for the Ark and I didn't. She knows. I know she knows. But does she understand? Does she feel it? Does she hear it? Does it keep her up at night like it does for me? No. And I don't think it ever will, which is why I don't like having that conversation with her, because not only does it not go anywhere, it takes me down into those deep dark parts of me that are so hard to get out of and so hard to shake. If she understood, she wouldn't take me there for nothing but the fact that she frequently does just lets me know she doesn't and there's nothing I can do about that.
Is empathy only valid if we've been there ourselves? Is compassion wasted if it can't be reciprocated to those we're compassionate to the right way? Am I being too hard on her?
Talk to me,
Testorshia
I never knew how infuriating that must be - to have someone say "Yes, I know," and know that they didn't understand. My best friend and I have this circular discussion about once a month about how I feel and what I think and I swear, if she was sitting next to me when we were talking about it, I'd hug her throat.
The conversation is one of love and life, living and existing. I think too much, says she, and I don't go out and do enough in my life. Friend or no friend, that's wrong; how are you going to tell me what I am and am not doing? What I do and do not feel? And the more she talked, the madder I got. I told her that she didn't understand and she said she did, but the more she talked the more I realized she didn't.
She doesn't understand what loneliness and fear feel like inside of my soul, she only knows what they feel like for her. She doesn't understand where I'm coming from because she doesn't understand or even know where I am in my life at this point. Eventually I told her the conversation was over, because we were getting nowhere with each other and the conversation ended (for this month at least).
She knows who I am and what I think about most things, but she does not, for all that knowledge, understand that much about me, or not as much as she thinks she does. And the more she says she does the more I feel like she's belittling anything I've said prior or anything I could say after to the point where I just shut down on her which benefits neither of us.
There are parts of me, parts of my soul that are so hidden from other people because I fear the let down that I feel always comes with trusting people. I fear moving too quickly; those who move quickly make rash and usually wrong decisions. I fear becoming a catlady, especially when it seems everyone around me is pairing off like they've gotten the call for the Ark and I didn't. She knows. I know she knows. But does she understand? Does she feel it? Does she hear it? Does it keep her up at night like it does for me? No. And I don't think it ever will, which is why I don't like having that conversation with her, because not only does it not go anywhere, it takes me down into those deep dark parts of me that are so hard to get out of and so hard to shake. If she understood, she wouldn't take me there for nothing but the fact that she frequently does just lets me know she doesn't and there's nothing I can do about that.
Is empathy only valid if we've been there ourselves? Is compassion wasted if it can't be reciprocated to those we're compassionate to the right way? Am I being too hard on her?
Talk to me,
Testorshia
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