Writers don't "want" to write, they "need" to write

Here is a sting of my thoughts:

Do I need to write, or do I just write because I don't know another way to express myself?

If I was put here for a reason, why do I keep working so hard to understand why I am here?

If we all feel so strongly and as if we need to be unique, why don't we all get along?

All is such an inconclusive term.  What does it mean to be all?  Does that mean there is a limit?

Limits and limiting.  Sheesh.  Is the sky the limit?  Does the sky have a limit?

Where did all this questioning begin?  Why do we question?

Did God want us to prove that there is a God over and over again?

Why do some people fear questioning?  Do they think there isn't an answer, and that's what we should fear?

Sometimes I fear there won't be any more questions.  

2:00 AM When She Calls Me and I'm Still Awake, Can You Help Me Unravel My Latest Mistake--Anna Nalick

I feel like a freshman right now.  It's two o'clock and I'm still awake.  I watched a thriller.  I hung out with friends.  I attended events, and I tried to do homework.

It's been a beautiful and fun weekend.  It's hard to watch time go by so quickly when there are so many things to learn and experience.

Today there was a car show that reminded me of home, and the boats on the river sounded like traffic from home, and the sky beaconed me with arms, reminding me of home, while old airplanes flew through the sky.

I wonder what image of home sticks with me the most.  I think it's the pine trees that frame the sky while I sun bathe on a boat in the ocean.  And as I bathe I watch brightly colored lobster pots drift by.  The wind penetrates through all the layers I put on, but the sky reminds me that I shouldn't worry.  It's Maine, and it's beautiful regardless of the temperature.

I wonder what it is about Maine that has kept Stephen King writing stories from the perspective of Mainers.  Maybe it's something about the people in Maine.

I'm heading off to bed.  Good-night

The Euphrates Institute

Tonight the CMU Team helped the Euphrates Institute put on an event.  The movie, "Encounter Point," was incredible.  I can't believe all that the people in Israel/Palestine have been through.

Everyone who's interested should check out:
http://www.justvision.org/
It's amazing how everybody's actions and voices impact the world.

The Sexist 1940s

Tonight in Radford I watched "To Have and Have Not," a traditional Humphrey Bogart film that portrays Bogie as a real American man.  He has a woman throwing herself at him, but he remains passive while trying to stay out of a political debate in Martinique.  Yet he gives in to both the woman and the cause he is not fighting for.

In this film only a woman with sass and sexiness could catch and keep Bogie's eye.  This woman must be sensuous, beautiful, thin, curvy, and fascinating.  Lauren Bacall is all of this and more.  She is everything a woman could want to be, and she gets the man through her sexual wiles.

This film is a Hemingway story, and therefore is slow moving until the sudden action that peppered the film, and the surprise ending after a plot that involves little growth.  I didn't even realize the movie was ending until "THE END" flashed across the screen.

Regardless of the blatant sexism and the slow moving plot, I had a wonderful time watching this film.  There were about ten of us watching it in Radford, and we were all lying on mattresses (and on each other) that had been brought over by the boys of Buck.  A wonderful and homey atmosphere pervaded the art gallery, and I could feel myself melting into the atmosphere.  Also, there were great musical numbers in the film that featured Bacall's deep and sensuous voice.  I enjoyed myself, and will definitely watch all the black and white movies shown on campus (even if they are on Wednesday night).

It Felt Like....You Know.....Well...

This evening I walked around campus and it took only ten minutes to get from the original women's quad to the men's quad to Davis.

When I was in Davis I felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.  But I couldn't figure out how to explain what I felt while I was emoting.  It was the sort of feeling that can only be described through metaphors and similies.

I felt that emotion that makes one feel heavy, and yet excited, as if a door has opened up and the future is lying expansively in front.  And yet that door is like a mirage, because I know I can see my future, but whenever I get close to the door it is shut.

Tonight I stepped cautiously into the Black Box, as if I would disturb something if I walked too far.  I couldn't seem to make myself cross the threshold.  I just stood there with one foot in and one foot out, and my hand holding the handle.  And yet the darkness was so inviting.  The quietness so gentle and calming.

I could feel that calm, but at the same time I felt as if I would never get back that piece of calm and quiet back that I felt last winter after crying my frustrations with the school, my friends, boys, standards, and anything that was weighing me down out.  There is always calm that comes after a storm. 

Maybe after I experience more places and thoughts I will find the words to express the emotions that I felt when I was alone in the Black Box.

Am I a Feminist?

When I think of the first feminists I usually envision heavy skirts and large petticoats.  I imagine a large conference room in Massachusetts and many women wearing unusual hats and talking in complete sentences devoid of the word "like."

However, reading through Mary Wollstonecraft's "Vindication of the Rights of Women," I realize that I must make alterations to my vision of early feminism.

I now envision a woman wearing a long dress at a table in a little home in England with the sun shining on her paper, and her eyes fervently moving from her current paper to the  other papers that are scattered about her room.

EMO!

I have been very emotional lately.

I wonder if I could pull back and think about how grateful I am before I begin spouting off my personal opinions and vendettas to whoever is at arms length.

I went to an outdoors concert by "Ian McFeron" this evening. Here's the band website: http://www.ianmcferon.com/
They are very talented and fun to watch.  I enjoyed Ian's mix of bluegrass and folk.  It was a beautiful evening, and people of all ages from the town came out to watch.  The bakery kept the street lit up and bouncy.  The atmosphere homey and happy.

Sometimes I wish I had a calling.  Even though it would probably be extremely difficult to follow through and stay true to myself, I think it would be helpful to know what I want from life.  I question and imagine, but have a hard time sticking to anything and feeling satisfied.

Maybe along with being the change I hope to see I could be the beauty I hope to see expressed.

Wood Nymphs in a Field of Goldenrod

Today has been a day of walking through nature, watching people play games, and loving the individuality that comes from the world.

I had a great evening and a sun-filled morning.  

Now it is time for bed.

Hasta manana!

Bake Sale Preparation

The sun dips into the river
Like an Easter egg
Falling into a cup of red dye.
My heart breaks into
A million pieces of
Deep red sunbeams
And the wind picks up my brain
Like a parent
Who embraces her child
After the tantrum has expired,
And sleep wins the battle.
I drift along the bluffs
Searching for the pieces of
My heart on the arms of
The wind that holds my brain
Above the passions I have lost.

It's Past Midnight Again.

The stars press down on my head.
I can't look up because their weight
Pushes the lids of my eyes beneath the horizon
Where the sun promises to rise.

And yet I laugh and am so happy.
What a world of contradictions
A world of girl scout cookie sales
And child prostitution.

Tonight I walked past a blooming lilac bush.
Whenever I feel that contradiction will
Push me into the margins of my meaningful life,
Those beautiful buds remind me to let go

I wonder why I am always searching.
I search for an escape and I search for meaning.
I search for something to believe in.
I search for something to keep me positive.

I want to sleep until I can no longer be tired.
But I worry that if I wait that long then I may forget.
And I think forgetting is worse than
Repressing the memories.

It's Past Midnight!!

I would be a pumpkin right now, not a carriage if I was in a fairy tale.  Thankfully I am not in a fairy tale, but I missed the midnight deadline, and now I have missed my goal of writing a blog a day!  But thankfully, this life is not a fairy tale, and the amount of blogs I have written will probably even out to be close to the deadline I created for myself.

Today was full of activities, and now it is midnight, and I have not finished my homework and I have not completed all of the necessary chores to be ready tomorrow to take on the day.  But I will take on the day.  I will do the best I can, and I will try to talk less.  Or maybe, it's talk more efficiently.

This evening I spent over an hour in the library computer lab with two other English Literature majors talking about requirements and what we need to do to graduate on time.  I was moved to tears through laughter, and I feel so upbeat while talking with my fellow English majors.  I really do love English.  It's a fascinating subject, and it causes wonderful discussions.

Bedtime!

Fill me up before I die in these four walls --Shawn Colvin song titles

Today I felt full and excited and flirty and with possible answers.  Then I contracted when I saw that these emotions make me seem childish and like I need others support which I gain when other people laugh at me for being a girl.  This evening I felt my insides wrenched when I saw real sexual excitement occurring between two people.  These people deserve to fall in love.  But why does it make me feel like I'm missing something?

I remember writing poems last year during winter quarter when everything seemed to be falling in on me.  Did I feel more alive then?  Or do I feel more alive when I run around a friend's garden with a corn stalk and hose in my hands?  Is there any way to escape these questions and emotions?

Maybe I need to stop looking for escapes.  Maybe I need to figure out why I feel the need to escape.  When can I?  I guess I can now.

I read and discover other peoples theories, but have I ever really tried to answer the questions myself?

Why am I so idealistic?  Does my idealism help me understand the world or does it make me lose faith in the world?  Why do other people's theories impact me so much?

Obviously someone had a theory that every person should have education, and someone decided this education should be through an institution, because it's the most cost efficient and equal.  It makes me believe everyone thinks about equality, but that this equality loses its effectiveness when people feel the need to prove it.  Prove what?  Why must everything be proved?

If everything needs to be proved, then maybe I should prove who I am.

My Life As a Play

Today I could imagine my life as play.

I was bouncing up and down and really excited because I finished my paper comparing gender in America to gender in Afghanistan.

When I am at home I don't talk to many people in a day, and everything seems to work out because I have ample time to talk out how I am feeling with my family and I have plenty of time to think about life and how I fit into it.

But here, at college, there isn't time to think about what is going on.  There is time to react and talk quickly and emphatically about what is going on and feel enthusiastic about nothing at all, and to be depressed for no reason at all.

Depression and excitement meld together from day to day, and my life looks like a story with tons of plots and themes, but one overall dilemma.

I am searching for something, but I don't know what this something is.  Maybe I never will, but I know I am searching for something.

I wonder how my act will close at the end of this year.

Sunday Night in the Pub

It's been a quiet day, a loud day, a contemplative day, and a day for ignoring what I'm thinking.  It's been a day of feeling excited and a day of introverted thoughts.  I think I should stop before I try to rival Charles Dickens.  

I went to a church off-campus today and loved it.  It was so beautiful and calming. 

The few minutes I spent in the park in the square was my favorite part of the day.  Grandparents with their dogs mingled with parents with their little children.  The children had no cares or worries.  They expressed themselves so openly and without any reservations.  They reacted purely, but I could tell that many of them were beginning to assess what their parents wanted and decide whether or not to obey.  

Now it's night and I'm in the pub wearing my overalls.  Overalls are amazingly comfy and comforting.  If I had more of them that weren't just work pants, then I would wear them everywhere.  I wouldn't even worry what people think.  I think comfort is an important aspect of clothing.  Now on to the reason I am at college--to learn.

The First Fall Day

Today I was going to do homework and have a me day.  I would really like a day to refresh myself and work on my studies.  However, I don't think that day is going to happen soon.

Instead I ended up having an incredible five hour conversation with a person I don't know very well, and then picked apples with my friends.

It was a beautiful and spectacular day with weather that is perfect for fall.  I look forward to the leaves drastically changing colors and falling all around me.

Now sitting down to open up my books to see what I can accomplish before tomorrow disappears.  Sundays always seem to disappear.

I wish I could capture all the amazing conversations I've had and bottle them up so on days when I feel like the world is closing in on my I could open up those conversations and remember how amazing and beautiful and open every  moment is.  I would really love that.  I suppose that's what our memory is for, and what our mind was created to do.

My Baby Yeti Legs

Whenever I find out that I can't do something I want to rebel.  I want to go out and do something I will most likely regret.

One example is my baby Yeti legs.  I have not shaved my legs in four months.  It began when I had a weird rash, but then I thought, "Why do I care what other people think?"  And I haven't shaved my legs since.  I think I will at some point, and it will probably happen when I feel the convention the world pressing down on me and I feel that the world will not let me rebel to my heart's content.

I guess it's good to discover everything I can't do when I am restrained.  But if I wasn't restrained I wouldn't feel the need to rebel.  When I turned 18 I wanted to try everything, but I think part of my reasoning was based on the restraint I felt by my employer.  She was an amazing and awesome person, but she has a very set conventions.

I hope there aren't rules in heaven.  If there are, I don't think I want to go there.  I want to be myself.  But for some reason that is really hard here.

I don't want to be watched. I don't want to be told what is right and what is wrong.  I think I have a moral compass.  And I think I've listened to it fairly well.

I am not allowed to live off-campus until I am 25, or if I am married, or if I served in the military.  It's comforting to know that there are married couples who have never lived without house hours but are now living together.  It's nice to know they can live together, but I can't live with my sister.

I guess I "chose" this.  Well, I guess it's good to acknowledge that fact, because I want to choose something else.

For now I will just have to comfort myself with my baby yeti legs.