There's something really humbling about the sky.
Besides the fact that it's large and we're small, and besides the fact that it's old and we're new, the fact that the sky is this vacant, looming infinity always reminds me that i'm still tiny, no matter how big I feel.
I was thinking about this at Feed my People this morning. I do my best thinking at 4:45 am. That's a lie, I do little to no thinking at 4:45 am, typically. But this morning, watching the homeless people of Austin get their coffee (with lot's of creme and lot's of sugar, as i've learned) was so reassuring. No matter how hard of a week I've had, no matter how many pathetic emails I send to my mother or whining sessions I have with Allie, Feed my People is the same. There will still be a few hundred people waiting outside of the church on Tuesdays and Thursdays, waiting for what probably will be the most sufficient meal they have until the next Tuesday or Thursday. They will still stand in line for coffee, and they will still fill their cups halfway with creme and sugar, spilling everywhere. And when i'm not there, someone else will hand them their tiny styrofoam cups and wish them good morning.
Knowing things go on without you is like a simultaneous slap in the face and firm shaking. We aren't that important. Life does, and will, go on, whether we're conscious of it or not. There's no need to take yourself too seriously because in the scheme of things, we're milliseconds on the hands of time. There's so much less pressure when you realize that in ten years, the mistakes and the decisions you made will be memories, and 100 years, they'll be even less than that. In a thousand years you'll be smaller than a grain of sand on a beach and there will be new people, with new worries and new choices, realizing just as we have to that none of it really matters.
But about the sky. It's nice to know that even when you forget to look up for a while, it's still there, ever expanding. We see a star's shine long after it's dead, but humans don't get that luxury. It's a blessing and a curse, to be this ephemeral. But regardless, we're small. And we can't change everything. And all in all, this life is precious and shouldn't be wasted, but it isn't so fragile. It doesn't need to be protected, it needs to be embraced.
All we have is tomorrow
kbye
kelly
kelli fuqua I'm sorry this isn't exactly what you're looking for... <3
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Things We Used To Know
We're taught so many things when we're little. Before our brains were taken completely over by lyrics to songs we don't even like and the little geometry that we still remember and names and faces of friends we had, we knew things. And somewhere along the time line of our lives we forgot everything we knew to be true when we were six.
We forget to remember "if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all." Instead we talk-- we gossip, we lie, and we say what we believe to be fact with a malicious convinction that, left unsaid, could have saved someone. We intentionally hit people right where it hurts, and once we've created a visible bruise, we find something new to talk about. We're on to the next, and we don't always even realize we've done it. Worse, when we do realize, we don't apologize because that shows a weakness we all like to pretend we don't have.
We ignore the golden rule. Surely the kids that filmed their Rudgers university school mate didn't consider "do unto your neighbor as you want him to do unto you" before exposing his sexuality through a sex video all over the internet. If they had, maybe they would have considered the consequences. Maybe they'd have posted it anyway, but I like to hope that if someone, anyone, had reminded them of the golden rule they'd have stopped. Now, suicide after suicide confirms that we don't consider the consequences of our words and actions and we don't do unto others as they should do unto us.
We've forgotten to walk the metaphorical mile in someone's shoes before we insult. We forgot that "everyone is special," and when we finally remembered it we attached a negative connotation to "special." what we once considered comforting began to reaffirm our negativity. Unique has become synonymous with evil, or bad. And so has different. Eventually, we have to grow out of this stage we've settled into where anyone that isn't like us is against us.
I can remember when the life lessons taught to me by my parents were something I held as universal truths. We can't allow ourselves to outgrow morality like we outgrew our beanie babies. What this world needs right now is a few more six year olds.
ps HAYYYY CAROLINE WATKINS
We forget to remember "if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all." Instead we talk-- we gossip, we lie, and we say what we believe to be fact with a malicious convinction that, left unsaid, could have saved someone. We intentionally hit people right where it hurts, and once we've created a visible bruise, we find something new to talk about. We're on to the next, and we don't always even realize we've done it. Worse, when we do realize, we don't apologize because that shows a weakness we all like to pretend we don't have.
We ignore the golden rule. Surely the kids that filmed their Rudgers university school mate didn't consider "do unto your neighbor as you want him to do unto you" before exposing his sexuality through a sex video all over the internet. If they had, maybe they would have considered the consequences. Maybe they'd have posted it anyway, but I like to hope that if someone, anyone, had reminded them of the golden rule they'd have stopped. Now, suicide after suicide confirms that we don't consider the consequences of our words and actions and we don't do unto others as they should do unto us.
We've forgotten to walk the metaphorical mile in someone's shoes before we insult. We forgot that "everyone is special," and when we finally remembered it we attached a negative connotation to "special." what we once considered comforting began to reaffirm our negativity. Unique has become synonymous with evil, or bad. And so has different. Eventually, we have to grow out of this stage we've settled into where anyone that isn't like us is against us.
I can remember when the life lessons taught to me by my parents were something I held as universal truths. We can't allow ourselves to outgrow morality like we outgrew our beanie babies. What this world needs right now is a few more six year olds.
ps HAYYYY CAROLINE WATKINS
Monday, September 6, 2010
Burnt Popcorn
smells really bad. My roommate burned a bag in our bathroom (where the microwave is...?) earlier and my dorm now smells like a gross mixture of burned paper and burned popcorn and flowery febreeze that isn't really doing it's job.
And all this burned popcorn got me thinking about ideas. Which is a weird thing to think about, because to me that sounds like I'm thinking about thinking which is confusing. But more specifically, the burned popcorn made me think of how this whole hall probably hates me. There's no way they can't smell it. I can practically feel it seeping into my hair and my skin and the carpeting and it's convinced me that I should get used to having this stench around because it's not going anywhere.
Which is why I thought of thinking. Because so often I'll get an idea in my head and once it plants itself, there's no going back. And I so over think everything that eventually I don't even remember what got me so worried. That doesn't make me stop worrying. In fact, it makes me worry just a little bit more.
Mostly I worry about the future. I'm majoring in Journalism, which I keep joking to people is like majoring in unemployment. I'm trying to make light of it, but really, I'm mostly serious. Which is sad, because it sucks that once I finally find something I want to do, something I'm more than just okay about, I can't get out of my head that I'm putting something in the future at risk, something so far into the future I don't even know what it is. And then I worry that I don't even want this. That I'm going to spend 4+ years getting a degree in something I might not even love.
I know I like reading. And I know I love writing. And editing. But it seems like part of growing up might be finding something substantial and coming to like it.
Is this the disillusioning part of growing up? Seems like it to me.
I need to escape this foul smelling room before I forget what actual oxygen smells like.
pieces
Kelly
And all this burned popcorn got me thinking about ideas. Which is a weird thing to think about, because to me that sounds like I'm thinking about thinking which is confusing. But more specifically, the burned popcorn made me think of how this whole hall probably hates me. There's no way they can't smell it. I can practically feel it seeping into my hair and my skin and the carpeting and it's convinced me that I should get used to having this stench around because it's not going anywhere.
Which is why I thought of thinking. Because so often I'll get an idea in my head and once it plants itself, there's no going back. And I so over think everything that eventually I don't even remember what got me so worried. That doesn't make me stop worrying. In fact, it makes me worry just a little bit more.
Mostly I worry about the future. I'm majoring in Journalism, which I keep joking to people is like majoring in unemployment. I'm trying to make light of it, but really, I'm mostly serious. Which is sad, because it sucks that once I finally find something I want to do, something I'm more than just okay about, I can't get out of my head that I'm putting something in the future at risk, something so far into the future I don't even know what it is. And then I worry that I don't even want this. That I'm going to spend 4+ years getting a degree in something I might not even love.
I know I like reading. And I know I love writing. And editing. But it seems like part of growing up might be finding something substantial and coming to like it.
Is this the disillusioning part of growing up? Seems like it to me.
I need to escape this foul smelling room before I forget what actual oxygen smells like.
pieces
Kelly
Thursday, September 2, 2010
School!
I'm sitting in my dorm room right now, ignoring my roommate's weird music and feeling like a college student, and I'm so surprised by how normal it is.
I think I imagined i'd be miserable here, and would cling to the "I wanted to go somewhere far away but pretended to be okay with UT" thing I do, but now that i'm living the Austin life and seeing all these cool things UT has to offer, I'm really glad to be here.
Which is good, since being glad to be where you are is definitely a good thing.
So here's the breakdown of my classes, for anyone that is reading this/cares/doesn't care:
Biology, Ecology, and Evolution:kind of hard.
Sociology: pretty cool
Critical Issues in Journalism: I want to be friends with my professor because his sense of humor is super dry and makes me laugh too long when everyone else has moved on.
Rhetoric: English class, so good.
...and last but not really least, Modernity, Anxiety, and the Art of the Uncanny: really really freaky. But interesting. Mostly scary. We watch scary movies and read unsettling literature and think about what it is that actually scares us and why. Other than when we had to read Freud, which made me feel stupid, but I'm sure as soon as I stop being terrified I'll like it.
It's so weird being here and accepting the fact that I'm not a highschooler because this hasn't stopped feeling like a field trip yet. I think it's because there are West kids all over the place, so it's like any minute Homez will pop out and be like "alright back on the bus" and I'll have to stop hanging out on the drag and go back to Plano.
Which I kind of miss. I liked knowing who and where everyone was. I liked how it was quiet, usually.
So there's a summary of my life, which I hate doing because I like when this blog goes months and months at a time with angsty post after post. Those are the best.
okay well when I think of something profound, or not, I'll write about it.
Hey Kevin.
Kelly
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
College
I've been frantically shopping. Shopping for bedding and a lamp and a rug and all sorts of things I never realized I'd actually need. Like a water filter. And bed lifts. But even with a long and growing to-do list, my impending college attendance wasn't really solidified in my mind until today, when The Castillian finallyyyy gave me my roommates. It's almost like I was buying all of these dorm room essentials for someone else and now that they're bought, I'm realizing they're actually for me.
On the one hand, I'm so ready to be gone. I feel like I've done everything there is to do in Plano and now that I have this huge new plan just a week a way, every second I have to drive the same streets to the same houses and pass the same places just adds to the anxious pit in my stomach. Even guarding, which I've never denied is the easiest job in the world and even semi enjoyable, is killing me. It's like how I used to feel walking into synagogue, as bad and sacrilegious as that sounds. It's like all of my energy is just sucked out, and the loud whistles and screams and splashes that never really bothered me are amplified by my irrational and sudden hatred of work.
But on the other hand, I loved Plano. It was a nice place to grow up. Calm and steady, even though those are weird words to describe a city. Nothing changes, nothing rocks the boat. Relatively, the Plano Bubble was a good place to live. I love my friends. I'll miss them. But even that doesn't outweigh the fact that as great as this place was, it's time to leave.
Everyone has to strike out sometime. I guess eventually I'll figure out how to balance the part of me roaring to leave and the part of me grasping to everything I know.
I've been working on living more coherently, if that makes sense. Hey Lindsey, was this a good start?
kelly
On the one hand, I'm so ready to be gone. I feel like I've done everything there is to do in Plano and now that I have this huge new plan just a week a way, every second I have to drive the same streets to the same houses and pass the same places just adds to the anxious pit in my stomach. Even guarding, which I've never denied is the easiest job in the world and even semi enjoyable, is killing me. It's like how I used to feel walking into synagogue, as bad and sacrilegious as that sounds. It's like all of my energy is just sucked out, and the loud whistles and screams and splashes that never really bothered me are amplified by my irrational and sudden hatred of work.
But on the other hand, I loved Plano. It was a nice place to grow up. Calm and steady, even though those are weird words to describe a city. Nothing changes, nothing rocks the boat. Relatively, the Plano Bubble was a good place to live. I love my friends. I'll miss them. But even that doesn't outweigh the fact that as great as this place was, it's time to leave.
Everyone has to strike out sometime. I guess eventually I'll figure out how to balance the part of me roaring to leave and the part of me grasping to everything I know.
I've been working on living more coherently, if that makes sense. Hey Lindsey, was this a good start?
kelly
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
"Don't
...be a stranger" is an odd phrase. It's meant to remind someone to stay close, to stay relevant. But it seems to me that being a stranger is next to impossible.
There's something to take from every single person you meet. From your neighbor and best friend at age 7, you learn you hate chicken and dumplings. From the bitchy girl in seventh grade you learn not to waste your time trying to be someone you aren't, because there are plenty of other people waiting for you to be someone you already are. From the boy you missed your chance with, you realize how important it is to be a little vulnerable, and from the boy you didn't miss your chance with, you begin to understand just how many fish there are in the sea- and eventually you figure out which ones are worth the catch. And those are just the people you know now, the ones you've already met. There are six billion people on the earth. There are six billion chances to find happiness, or love, or even just a smile.
In my life, I can't think of a lot of people that haven't made some sort of mark. Sure, there are kids I've passed in the halls and completely ignored, or the kids that I've passed in the halls that completely ignore me. But even they aren't strangers. A stranger to me is unattached, living in a completely separate sphere from your life, and while you're existing somewhere, anywhere, a stranger is existing somewhere else, unrelated and unknowing if your life. Everyone you meet shares your present. You can't fix the past, and you can't see the future, but for the one second where you brush shoulders with the boy in the letter jacket, or make awkward eye contact with the student teacher of your French class, your present is shared with someone else. Every single second. And yeah, they may not be meaningful, you may not be cognizant of any connections, but they're there. It's physics.
So to everyone leaving for school, to everyone I just defriended on Facebook, and to everyone who stumbled upon this blog while looking for something interesting (sorry to disappoint,) don't be a stranger. Because you can't. You've made your mark, intentionally or not, and when I'm old and crumbly and losing my mind, it'll still be there, tucked away in a corner of my brain somewhere. I'm sure of that.
kfine
There's something to take from every single person you meet. From your neighbor and best friend at age 7, you learn you hate chicken and dumplings. From the bitchy girl in seventh grade you learn not to waste your time trying to be someone you aren't, because there are plenty of other people waiting for you to be someone you already are. From the boy you missed your chance with, you realize how important it is to be a little vulnerable, and from the boy you didn't miss your chance with, you begin to understand just how many fish there are in the sea- and eventually you figure out which ones are worth the catch. And those are just the people you know now, the ones you've already met. There are six billion people on the earth. There are six billion chances to find happiness, or love, or even just a smile.
In my life, I can't think of a lot of people that haven't made some sort of mark. Sure, there are kids I've passed in the halls and completely ignored, or the kids that I've passed in the halls that completely ignore me. But even they aren't strangers. A stranger to me is unattached, living in a completely separate sphere from your life, and while you're existing somewhere, anywhere, a stranger is existing somewhere else, unrelated and unknowing if your life. Everyone you meet shares your present. You can't fix the past, and you can't see the future, but for the one second where you brush shoulders with the boy in the letter jacket, or make awkward eye contact with the student teacher of your French class, your present is shared with someone else. Every single second. And yeah, they may not be meaningful, you may not be cognizant of any connections, but they're there. It's physics.
So to everyone leaving for school, to everyone I just defriended on Facebook, and to everyone who stumbled upon this blog while looking for something interesting (sorry to disappoint,) don't be a stranger. Because you can't. You've made your mark, intentionally or not, and when I'm old and crumbly and losing my mind, it'll still be there, tucked away in a corner of my brain somewhere. I'm sure of that.
kfine
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I'm
...a writer, but I should have been a scientist. Not because I have an aptitude or even an interest in anything even remotely scientific, but because of the way I'm wired. Artists think with their hearts, and record, in whatever medium they do, what it says. Scientists think purely with their heads, and with the intuition that comes from the knowledge of the table
Of elements or the life cycle or whatever the hell else I immidiately forgot in science classes. But they're logical. They compare based on evidence and statistics and outweighing pros to cons.
I'm like that. I hate the illogical. I hate when things aren't black and white but a hundred thousand shades of grey. If I didn't analyze everything from every possible angle, I'd consider myself almost childlike in my way of classifying thing. Black and white. Wrong and right. It's when left is right and right is wrong that everything gets confusing and complicated. Too much.
That's one thing I couldn't deal with as a scientist. Something goes wrong and I shut down. That's not very professional. Writers are allowed to go three days without talking. It's a part of the creative process or some nonsense like that and maybe my future publishers will think my anxiety and nervous habits make me unique and not just weird.
Someone told me tonight that for someone that takes everything so personally, someone that uses 98% of their heart, I sure ignore it a lot. I wish that was something I wanted to work on. If the government could recreate my defense mechanisms, there'd be no terrorism.
Kelly
Of elements or the life cycle or whatever the hell else I immidiately forgot in science classes. But they're logical. They compare based on evidence and statistics and outweighing pros to cons.
I'm like that. I hate the illogical. I hate when things aren't black and white but a hundred thousand shades of grey. If I didn't analyze everything from every possible angle, I'd consider myself almost childlike in my way of classifying thing. Black and white. Wrong and right. It's when left is right and right is wrong that everything gets confusing and complicated. Too much.
That's one thing I couldn't deal with as a scientist. Something goes wrong and I shut down. That's not very professional. Writers are allowed to go three days without talking. It's a part of the creative process or some nonsense like that and maybe my future publishers will think my anxiety and nervous habits make me unique and not just weird.
Someone told me tonight that for someone that takes everything so personally, someone that uses 98% of their heart, I sure ignore it a lot. I wish that was something I wanted to work on. If the government could recreate my defense mechanisms, there'd be no terrorism.
Kelly
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
I
...always said I would be jetting across the country for college. I said I'd have no connections back to Plano, that I'd start anew in some cold, non-Texan city and adjust to making new friends and the freezing weather with grace and poise. That I'd be the charming southerner without ever having to actually come back to the South.
But the truth is, as much as I loved the Northeastern schools that fit into my life plan, I changed this year. "My Give a Damn's Busted." It's harder for me to make friends than it used to be, and whether that's due to the thousands of little stresses I finally let get to me or just my utter inability to try, the fact of the matter is, UT is the best place for me now. I'll be close to home in case something happens, but I can make Austin as far as I want it to be. I'll know enough people that I wont be completely overwhelmed, but I'll have 50,000 new friends to change me even more. College is about growth. Who's to say I wouldn't run to the Northeast and become the exact same person I am now, with warmer clothes?
And then there's the whole My Two Best Friends I've Ever Had Are Going To UT Also thing. I tried so hard not to let that affect my decision, but it did. And I'm relieved. Kimberly and Allison and I have been best friends for literally longer than my memory can go back. Facing not just one change but the ten million that come with college and growing up and striking out would be impossible. And when I invariably do something stupid, they'll always be the ones to let me know how stupid it was and then remind me how much better I am than that. And when I do it again, they'll laugh and make it a nickname. And there's really nothing I'm going to need more than that next year.
"so that's that."
pieces.
kelly
But the truth is, as much as I loved the Northeastern schools that fit into my life plan, I changed this year. "My Give a Damn's Busted." It's harder for me to make friends than it used to be, and whether that's due to the thousands of little stresses I finally let get to me or just my utter inability to try, the fact of the matter is, UT is the best place for me now. I'll be close to home in case something happens, but I can make Austin as far as I want it to be. I'll know enough people that I wont be completely overwhelmed, but I'll have 50,000 new friends to change me even more. College is about growth. Who's to say I wouldn't run to the Northeast and become the exact same person I am now, with warmer clothes?
And then there's the whole My Two Best Friends I've Ever Had Are Going To UT Also thing. I tried so hard not to let that affect my decision, but it did. And I'm relieved. Kimberly and Allison and I have been best friends for literally longer than my memory can go back. Facing not just one change but the ten million that come with college and growing up and striking out would be impossible. And when I invariably do something stupid, they'll always be the ones to let me know how stupid it was and then remind me how much better I am than that. And when I do it again, they'll laugh and make it a nickname. And there's really nothing I'm going to need more than that next year.
"so that's that."
pieces.
kelly
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Have
...you ever actually thought about a hug? Like the act of hugging another person? It's so weird. It's simultaneously the most primitive and complex way of expressing emotion without any words or sounds messing it up. Hugs probably existed before languages. When cavemen communicated with grunts and hand motions, hugs had long been accepted as a way to express love. Or even just like. Hugs are good at ambiguities like that.
Consider it. Strip away the clothes and the makeup and the general facade of everyday life and all we have left is our body. Our body that houses our brain for thinking and our heart for feeling, if you're the romantic type, and everything else for processing and moving and ensuring that we get where we want to go, when we want to get there, with no delay. Completely involuntary. Hugs have no need for medecations or remedies, they're more simple than that. One can even consider a hug a remedy in itself, atleast for abstract things like lonliness or anxiety.
It's basic. Humans want to share things, it's the way we're trained since birth. And, running the risk of sounding like a birds-and-bees talk, when you get right down to it all we can really share, all we really and truely own, is our body. Is a hug. And sometimes they're awkward, and sometimes they're unexpected, but do you ever walk away from a hug really regretting it? Of course you don't. Because at the least, a hug is a hello, a goodbye. But at the most? A hug is a declaration. I miss you, I love you, or maybe just 'I can love you'. At the most it's a promise. And when we're old and decrepit and words fail, hugs won't. Parting might, but hugs will never fail.
Consider it. Strip away the clothes and the makeup and the general facade of everyday life and all we have left is our body. Our body that houses our brain for thinking and our heart for feeling, if you're the romantic type, and everything else for processing and moving and ensuring that we get where we want to go, when we want to get there, with no delay. Completely involuntary. Hugs have no need for medecations or remedies, they're more simple than that. One can even consider a hug a remedy in itself, atleast for abstract things like lonliness or anxiety.
It's basic. Humans want to share things, it's the way we're trained since birth. And, running the risk of sounding like a birds-and-bees talk, when you get right down to it all we can really share, all we really and truely own, is our body. Is a hug. And sometimes they're awkward, and sometimes they're unexpected, but do you ever walk away from a hug really regretting it? Of course you don't. Because at the least, a hug is a hello, a goodbye. But at the most? A hug is a declaration. I miss you, I love you, or maybe just 'I can love you'. At the most it's a promise. And when we're old and decrepit and words fail, hugs won't. Parting might, but hugs will never fail.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
One Minute
Write about a way you need to catch up in your life.
I could write about how much work I have to catch up on, because I do. Not that I have a desk job with quotas, just the usual teenage English papers and science tests. But instead, I'm going to write about ketchup. I hate ketchup so much. I actually compiled a short list of foods I hate and it really spans a lot. Like...ranch. Just the smell makes me want to die. And bologna. I already distrust that food because of its sneaky spelling, but it is really just disgusting. And couscous. That one I’m not sure how to spell, but it's all we ate on the mountain and therefore I cannot stand it. Maybe I associate a lack of oxygen and ten hour hikes with tuna couscous and that's why I hate it? Whatever, it's gross. Also on the list is blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, fish of any kind, duck because that shouldn’t be eaten at all, pork "because it isn’t kosher"....that's all I can remember. This is one minute. This is all I’m writing. I'm devoid of inspiration.
I could write about how much work I have to catch up on, because I do. Not that I have a desk job with quotas, just the usual teenage English papers and science tests. But instead, I'm going to write about ketchup. I hate ketchup so much. I actually compiled a short list of foods I hate and it really spans a lot. Like...ranch. Just the smell makes me want to die. And bologna. I already distrust that food because of its sneaky spelling, but it is really just disgusting. And couscous. That one I’m not sure how to spell, but it's all we ate on the mountain and therefore I cannot stand it. Maybe I associate a lack of oxygen and ten hour hikes with tuna couscous and that's why I hate it? Whatever, it's gross. Also on the list is blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, fish of any kind, duck because that shouldn’t be eaten at all, pork "because it isn’t kosher"....that's all I can remember. This is one minute. This is all I’m writing. I'm devoid of inspiration.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Uncanny
JAIME finally let me borrow her motion city CD and now im obsessed with this. so im posting it. so I dont actually have to write anything. brilliant.
Too Close
If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
And if you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
I'm afraid I tend to disappear
Into an anxious state
When you draw near
There is no reasoning
It's quite a silly thing
But it's the way I've been for years
So I will understand if you don't stay
They say I'm great at first
But then the magic fades
Into an awful hue of dismal views
And a pessimistic attitude
All this distance
Years of sweet resistance
Swirling overhead like angry clouds of discontent
I have apologized a billion times
When I've gone off the wall
Like Buster Rhymes
And pulled a stupid stunt
That left you thinking
There was something wrong with me
You've thrown a few choice phrases at my way
And I've ignored them all
As best I could
Except that tiny bit
How I just can't commit
There was some truth in what you say
All this distance
Years of sweet resistance
Swirling overhead like angry clouds of discontent
If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
And if you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
I'll spend time with you again
If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
If you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
Too Close
If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
And if you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
I'm afraid I tend to disappear
Into an anxious state
When you draw near
There is no reasoning
It's quite a silly thing
But it's the way I've been for years
So I will understand if you don't stay
They say I'm great at first
But then the magic fades
Into an awful hue of dismal views
And a pessimistic attitude
All this distance
Years of sweet resistance
Swirling overhead like angry clouds of discontent
I have apologized a billion times
When I've gone off the wall
Like Buster Rhymes
And pulled a stupid stunt
That left you thinking
There was something wrong with me
You've thrown a few choice phrases at my way
And I've ignored them all
As best I could
Except that tiny bit
How I just can't commit
There was some truth in what you say
All this distance
Years of sweet resistance
Swirling overhead like angry clouds of discontent
If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
And if you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
I'll spend time with you again
If I stand too close
I might fall in
But if I'm too far gone
I'll never win
If you believe in me
I might just wanna spend some time with you again
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Things I Wrote In Utah- pt. 2
Things always look better from 37000 feet. So high above the rest of
the people in this tangled up world. It's almost as if the only people
are you and the other passengers, and they don't even necessarily need
any attention. I always wonder about the people in the seats around
me. Right now, as I write this on my phone, the woman to my right is
reading People. Every so often she offers her kids in the seat ahead
of us napkins, or water. She skips the pages with stupid celebrity
gossip and reads the book and movie reviews. She's eating a sandwich
with onions on it. I really hate onions but I'd obviously never tell
her that. She and all her kids are wearing green for saint Patrick's
day which makes me think they're all either Irish or superstitious or
just a fun family. She ordered Chardonnay which means she's probably
afraid of flying, since it's only 3:00. Right now I'm worried she can
read this and one) thinks I'm creepy or two) thinks I'm untalented.
I'd prefer the second. Talent is so objective. Creepiness is less so.
Isn't it odd that I don't even know her name but I know she's married
to a man that drinks diet coke, she has a daughter that does middle
school theater, she's either Irish or superstitious and she likes to
read? Sometimes being observant is the same as being creepy I think.
I'm fairly confident she can't read this.
To my left is a window. I always try and get a window seat because it
calms me down. Not that I think we'll crash. I just like to know where
we
Are.
And while I'm up here
I'll just pretend
That everyone on the ground
Doesn't
Even
Exist
the people in this tangled up world. It's almost as if the only people
are you and the other passengers, and they don't even necessarily need
any attention. I always wonder about the people in the seats around
me. Right now, as I write this on my phone, the woman to my right is
reading People. Every so often she offers her kids in the seat ahead
of us napkins, or water. She skips the pages with stupid celebrity
gossip and reads the book and movie reviews. She's eating a sandwich
with onions on it. I really hate onions but I'd obviously never tell
her that. She and all her kids are wearing green for saint Patrick's
day which makes me think they're all either Irish or superstitious or
just a fun family. She ordered Chardonnay which means she's probably
afraid of flying, since it's only 3:00. Right now I'm worried she can
read this and one) thinks I'm creepy or two) thinks I'm untalented.
I'd prefer the second. Talent is so objective. Creepiness is less so.
Isn't it odd that I don't even know her name but I know she's married
to a man that drinks diet coke, she has a daughter that does middle
school theater, she's either Irish or superstitious and she likes to
read? Sometimes being observant is the same as being creepy I think.
I'm fairly confident she can't read this.
To my left is a window. I always try and get a window seat because it
calms me down. Not that I think we'll crash. I just like to know where
we
Are.
And while I'm up here
I'll just pretend
That everyone on the ground
Doesn't
Even
Exist
Things I Wrote In Utah
Conflict Averse
Everything in Utah is really bright. Usually my eyes were protected,
shielded behind the yellow plastic of my ski goggles. But when I took
my sun-and-snow-shine barriers off, everything turned this brilliant
shade of light blue. At night, even where the earth was shadowed there
was always a beam of moonlight cast onto the snow and reflecting so
brightly it might as well have been noon. But I liked the first
moments without my goggles- everything looks new and even squinting
against the sudden light it's a comfort knowing that the sun is still
there.
We went tubing. They attached us to this pulley thing and dragged
(drug?) us up a huge hill. And when we got to the top they pushed us
back down in tubes. I went careening down the slope spinning, so fast
and wild and for the thirty seconds it took to get the to bottom, so
out of control. And it was terrifying. Not because I was afraid I'd
crash, but because there are few things in my life I don't have
complete control over. And that's always been my problem- my complete
and utter need to have absolute control over every aspect of my own
life.
But when you're as conflict averse as I am, there will always be loose
ends. Because instead of asking "why aren't we on speaking terms?" ill
dance around it. I'll ask how your break was. And when you don't text
back I won't let you know how much it hurts, I'll bottle it up with
all the rest of the emotions I prefer to pretend I don't posses and
wait until you feel like cluing me in. And since that's something i
can't force, enter the lack of control that drives me insane. It's
really just a horribly vicious cycle.
This blog has so become a method of dealing with my own screwed up
emotions. Since I can't talk about it, I may as well write it.
Kelly
Ps
Hey Kevin Michael Pellicone and Jaime Ping-Ling-Shing- Cho- Chow
Cheng. Was that racist? My bad.
Everything in Utah is really bright. Usually my eyes were protected,
shielded behind the yellow plastic of my ski goggles. But when I took
my sun-and-snow-shine barriers off, everything turned this brilliant
shade of light blue. At night, even where the earth was shadowed there
was always a beam of moonlight cast onto the snow and reflecting so
brightly it might as well have been noon. But I liked the first
moments without my goggles- everything looks new and even squinting
against the sudden light it's a comfort knowing that the sun is still
there.
We went tubing. They attached us to this pulley thing and dragged
(drug?) us up a huge hill. And when we got to the top they pushed us
back down in tubes. I went careening down the slope spinning, so fast
and wild and for the thirty seconds it took to get the to bottom, so
out of control. And it was terrifying. Not because I was afraid I'd
crash, but because there are few things in my life I don't have
complete control over. And that's always been my problem- my complete
and utter need to have absolute control over every aspect of my own
life.
But when you're as conflict averse as I am, there will always be loose
ends. Because instead of asking "why aren't we on speaking terms?" ill
dance around it. I'll ask how your break was. And when you don't text
back I won't let you know how much it hurts, I'll bottle it up with
all the rest of the emotions I prefer to pretend I don't posses and
wait until you feel like cluing me in. And since that's something i
can't force, enter the lack of control that drives me insane. It's
really just a horribly vicious cycle.
This blog has so become a method of dealing with my own screwed up
emotions. Since I can't talk about it, I may as well write it.
Kelly
Ps
Hey Kevin Michael Pellicone and Jaime Ping-Ling-Shing- Cho- Chow
Cheng. Was that racist? My bad.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Michael
I'd forgotten about this essay for UT. But I like it, and I have little to write right now, so here it is.
When my brother has something to say, you listen; he is wise beyond his fourteen years. You listen, but you also wait.
Michael has a stutter- he always has, regardless of years of speech therapy and much to his constant irritation. When he’s excited, or tired, or angry, or even just distracted, it can take him longer to say the first syllable of a word than it would take to complete the entire story eight times- at least, to the people listening, that what it feels like. But even when his audience is visibly losing interest in whatever insight Michael was offering- or trying to offer- he keeps at it. It is this patience and determination that has made an impact on my life.
When Michael gets stuck on the letter R and “chews on it”, as one particularly unhelpful therapist used to say, he doesn’t get mad, at least not noticeably so. He takes a deep breath, looks you in the eye, and tries again, and again, and again, even if the moment has passed and his remark is completely misplaced. The frustration I can only imagine he feels is completely invisible. I have always admired him for his ability to calmly persevere.
One example of Michael’s determination that has always stood out in my memory occurred a few summers ago, at the sleep away camp my siblings and I all attended. My brother and I were both chosen as “Cabin Camper of the Week”, and were told to stand on a table during lunch time, in front of the whole camp, and introduce ourselves. We both said our names, and when it came time to say what city we were from he answered “Plano” just as I answered “Dallas”. I had forgotten about Michael’s hesitation with the letter D, and had not even considered that we were standing in front of a room full of staring kids. I doubt that anyone else even noticed our lack of coordination, but Michael laughed and said “oh yeah, Dallas.” Those three words took him close to thirty seconds, but with an audience of 200 people it was endless. Campers started fidgeting, the counselors began dishing out the food, and I was feeling more and more embarrassed for my brother. When he finally finished his unnecessary correction, he jumped down from the table and walked to his waiting cabin mates, bravely ignoring the humiliatingly public situation he had just faced. I watched as he laughed and talked with his friends, and I slowly began to realize what my little brother had known for years. While his speech impediment is clearly a hindrance to his communication skills, with enough resolve and tolerance, the barrier becomes minimal.
I am exactly three years, five months, one week, and three days older than my brother. Those three years, five months, one week, and three days have absolutely no bearing on the high level of maturity Michael exhibits more often than I do. From my brother, I learn on a daily basis that regardless of the road blocks and annoyances you’re destined to face at some point in your life, frustration is a completely useless response. Sometimes- most times- all you can do is take a deep breath, look the problem right in the eye, and try again, and again, and again.
When my brother has something to say, you listen; he is wise beyond his fourteen years. You listen, but you also wait.
Michael has a stutter- he always has, regardless of years of speech therapy and much to his constant irritation. When he’s excited, or tired, or angry, or even just distracted, it can take him longer to say the first syllable of a word than it would take to complete the entire story eight times- at least, to the people listening, that what it feels like. But even when his audience is visibly losing interest in whatever insight Michael was offering- or trying to offer- he keeps at it. It is this patience and determination that has made an impact on my life.
When Michael gets stuck on the letter R and “chews on it”, as one particularly unhelpful therapist used to say, he doesn’t get mad, at least not noticeably so. He takes a deep breath, looks you in the eye, and tries again, and again, and again, even if the moment has passed and his remark is completely misplaced. The frustration I can only imagine he feels is completely invisible. I have always admired him for his ability to calmly persevere.
One example of Michael’s determination that has always stood out in my memory occurred a few summers ago, at the sleep away camp my siblings and I all attended. My brother and I were both chosen as “Cabin Camper of the Week”, and were told to stand on a table during lunch time, in front of the whole camp, and introduce ourselves. We both said our names, and when it came time to say what city we were from he answered “Plano” just as I answered “Dallas”. I had forgotten about Michael’s hesitation with the letter D, and had not even considered that we were standing in front of a room full of staring kids. I doubt that anyone else even noticed our lack of coordination, but Michael laughed and said “oh yeah, Dallas.” Those three words took him close to thirty seconds, but with an audience of 200 people it was endless. Campers started fidgeting, the counselors began dishing out the food, and I was feeling more and more embarrassed for my brother. When he finally finished his unnecessary correction, he jumped down from the table and walked to his waiting cabin mates, bravely ignoring the humiliatingly public situation he had just faced. I watched as he laughed and talked with his friends, and I slowly began to realize what my little brother had known for years. While his speech impediment is clearly a hindrance to his communication skills, with enough resolve and tolerance, the barrier becomes minimal.
I am exactly three years, five months, one week, and three days older than my brother. Those three years, five months, one week, and three days have absolutely no bearing on the high level of maturity Michael exhibits more often than I do. From my brother, I learn on a daily basis that regardless of the road blocks and annoyances you’re destined to face at some point in your life, frustration is a completely useless response. Sometimes- most times- all you can do is take a deep breath, look the problem right in the eye, and try again, and again, and again.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
The Pool
I had to write this for English. And I liked it, so...here.
The Pool
It was somewhere between the last day of school and the first. Sometime between the warm but tolerable early morning and the scorching mid-afternoon. I sat, as I did every day that summer, on a lifeguard stand, elevated high above the lap swimmers- high enough that no one would approach me, but not so high as to look completely unapproachable. The patrons of the pool were typically unmemorable, save for the few I called The Regulars. The Regulars came every morning, like clockwork, and while they never actually talked to each other, they swam side by side, sharing small smiles of empathy and recognition, and always, always the lap lanes. From my perch above the water, The Regulars were discernible only by the varying colors of their swim caps and suits, which I used like name tags to identify them. Floral One Piece used a kick board but never fins, and Black Swim Cap took direction from Harry, the early morning adult swim team coach. Harry spoke in a monotonous drawl, his voice congested from fall straight through to spring. On several occasions, his voice lulled me into trances as I watched the swimmers stroke back and forth, their back muscles coiling and stretching as they moved steadily across the pool. It was on one such occasion that Pink And Blue Speedo stopped her usual routine of slow breaststroke to try to the more adventurous butterfly. I watched as she lifted her torso out of the water and kicked, her arms rotating at her side. From the get go she struggled, her shoulders not quite strong enough to propel her through the water, and her legs not quite coordinated enough to move in unison. As she neared the deep end her strokes grew more frantic. I reached for my whistle. She slowed down, her legs sinking below the surface of the pool, and I stood, ready to jump in and save her. But she reached the wall before I could and climbed out. She walked, defeated, to the locker room, and was replaced by Grey Goggles in the lap lane.
That's it. Yeah, it definitely alludes to my post about backs. Only the loyalist of the loyal blog readers know that. (Kevin Pellicone, this is note number nine hundred)
I'll write more later.
Kelly
The Pool
It was somewhere between the last day of school and the first. Sometime between the warm but tolerable early morning and the scorching mid-afternoon. I sat, as I did every day that summer, on a lifeguard stand, elevated high above the lap swimmers- high enough that no one would approach me, but not so high as to look completely unapproachable. The patrons of the pool were typically unmemorable, save for the few I called The Regulars. The Regulars came every morning, like clockwork, and while they never actually talked to each other, they swam side by side, sharing small smiles of empathy and recognition, and always, always the lap lanes. From my perch above the water, The Regulars were discernible only by the varying colors of their swim caps and suits, which I used like name tags to identify them. Floral One Piece used a kick board but never fins, and Black Swim Cap took direction from Harry, the early morning adult swim team coach. Harry spoke in a monotonous drawl, his voice congested from fall straight through to spring. On several occasions, his voice lulled me into trances as I watched the swimmers stroke back and forth, their back muscles coiling and stretching as they moved steadily across the pool. It was on one such occasion that Pink And Blue Speedo stopped her usual routine of slow breaststroke to try to the more adventurous butterfly. I watched as she lifted her torso out of the water and kicked, her arms rotating at her side. From the get go she struggled, her shoulders not quite strong enough to propel her through the water, and her legs not quite coordinated enough to move in unison. As she neared the deep end her strokes grew more frantic. I reached for my whistle. She slowed down, her legs sinking below the surface of the pool, and I stood, ready to jump in and save her. But she reached the wall before I could and climbed out. She walked, defeated, to the locker room, and was replaced by Grey Goggles in the lap lane.
That's it. Yeah, it definitely alludes to my post about backs. Only the loyalist of the loyal blog readers know that. (Kevin Pellicone, this is note number nine hundred)
I'll write more later.
Kelly
Saturday, February 20, 2010
I never
...did the cliched "Summary of my Year" post at new years. I thought I did. Maybe this is better. Maybe my brain needed two and a half months of 2010 to recover from 2009.
Although there wasn't much to recover from. My 2009 was like my 2008/7/6/5/. If my life was a movie, it would be on grainy black and white film and the plot would be minimal at best. There would be characters flitting in and out constantly, save for the few static people that I knew long ago weren't going anywhere. Critics would complain that the central character wasn't ever fully developed, that the movie was just a series of comical anecdotes with little substance in between. And they'd be right, I suppose, to an extent.
I am growing. I know so much more about myself now than I did this time last year. And yeah, the last three-ish months have been really emotional, but now I know that I can care. That I don't always have to try so hard. I'm not going to go out and talk about my feelings. I still can't do that. But at least now I know there are some feelings there to talk about. That's an improvement, I guess.
I don't really like to make resolutions. Whenever I do I end up breaking them or forgetting them altogether. I decided I'd stop pulling on my hair. There's one curl that always is a perfect spiral, even when the rest of my hair is tangly. I've taken to pulling on the one perfect curl when I'm feeling especially anxious, confident that it will always go back to where it was. That's like a metaphor for my life.
I need to learn to be the opposite of a rubber band. That will be my resolution.
I know it's been a while.
Kelly
Although there wasn't much to recover from. My 2009 was like my 2008/7/6/5/. If my life was a movie, it would be on grainy black and white film and the plot would be minimal at best. There would be characters flitting in and out constantly, save for the few static people that I knew long ago weren't going anywhere. Critics would complain that the central character wasn't ever fully developed, that the movie was just a series of comical anecdotes with little substance in between. And they'd be right, I suppose, to an extent.
I am growing. I know so much more about myself now than I did this time last year. And yeah, the last three-ish months have been really emotional, but now I know that I can care. That I don't always have to try so hard. I'm not going to go out and talk about my feelings. I still can't do that. But at least now I know there are some feelings there to talk about. That's an improvement, I guess.
I don't really like to make resolutions. Whenever I do I end up breaking them or forgetting them altogether. I decided I'd stop pulling on my hair. There's one curl that always is a perfect spiral, even when the rest of my hair is tangly. I've taken to pulling on the one perfect curl when I'm feeling especially anxious, confident that it will always go back to where it was. That's like a metaphor for my life.
I need to learn to be the opposite of a rubber band. That will be my resolution.
I know it's been a while.
Kelly
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
One Minute Writer
What should, but doesnt necessarily, come in pairs?
Decisions. Decisions should come in pairs. Which doesn't exactly make sense, but it's not as if the last years worth of blogs have made sense. Why break the trend? But about the decisions. Making choices is really just the worst thing. I don't want to have to weigh babysitting and hanging out with friends anymore. I want to do both. I want to have my cake and eat it too. Which is a frustrating saying because if you're eating your cake you are having it, technically. In conclusion, I should be able to have both things at the same time.
Does that remind anyone of a horocrux? Man oh man I wish I could have either a horocrux or one of those little hour glasses Hermione had.
I haven't blogged in a month. I think its because all i've been doing is writing essays for scholarships for college. And I really like the essays, and I want to post them on here, but I feel like it might disqualify me. So I'll wait.
That's that. I'm pretty boring right now. The ush. Zoe leaves on Thursday, so that's basically the worst thing ever.
Decisions. Decisions should come in pairs. Which doesn't exactly make sense, but it's not as if the last years worth of blogs have made sense. Why break the trend? But about the decisions. Making choices is really just the worst thing. I don't want to have to weigh babysitting and hanging out with friends anymore. I want to do both. I want to have my cake and eat it too. Which is a frustrating saying because if you're eating your cake you are having it, technically. In conclusion, I should be able to have both things at the same time.
Does that remind anyone of a horocrux? Man oh man I wish I could have either a horocrux or one of those little hour glasses Hermione had.
I haven't blogged in a month. I think its because all i've been doing is writing essays for scholarships for college. And I really like the essays, and I want to post them on here, but I feel like it might disqualify me. So I'll wait.
That's that. I'm pretty boring right now. The ush. Zoe leaves on Thursday, so that's basically the worst thing ever.
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