Breakage

The thing about inevitability is, simply, that your best efforts to resist are futile. So I grit my teeth, steel my nerves, and take deep breaths. I convince myself that emotions are something I can keep at bay. Breaking is out of the question and I refuse. But the more I keep it away, the closer it draws. I fight it and I suppress the urge to give in. My fists clench and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder trying to stave off the sneak attacks that feelings often try. The most unfortunate thing about pain is that it always comes when I’m at my weakest. Like a deep horrible sinking wasteland that invades my heart, mind and finally my soul. My earth shatters violently and without warning. All that resolve, all of that strength I possess is depleted and though I veraciously attempt, I can’t draw on it anymore.

Perhaps the most horrific part about breaking is that the first crack is just a prelude of the hurt to come. That first crack is just a reminder of how human, fragile and vulnerable I am. Sobs wrack my body and slowly, reassuringly the pain begins to subside. That last shuddering deep breath and small sniffles that follow afterward. The eye of the storm is above me. A bird chirps, a deep breath, the breeze ruffles my hair and I feel it through my clothes. I extend my arms to lose myself in the clarity of this moment because I’ll need its strength to face what’s to come. There’s still work to be done. Ever so gently, bit by miserable bit, I’m meant to feel the breakage until finally I’m shattered. My very being lie on the ground scattered in a myriad of pieces. I’m finding that my mistake has been that I’m always reaching for the pieces, hoping to catch them before they fall, forever attempting to cram them back together to rebuild what was lost. That strength, that resolve! I need it back! This is my realization and my discovered truth about pain; it’s not about restoration, it’s about creation. The pieces that fall to floor are not to be reattached in the form they once composed. I am broken. Now all of my pieces form a new shape entirely. I can’t go back, I am not to be restored and through this realization, through the pain and destruction, I am created.

"Searching for a peace of mind, like the spiders in the corners that are never there"

All of me is all of you

I am good, I am just, I am strong

I am what you have made me

Where I am blind, you see

Where I am bound, you are free

When I am sorrow, you are glee

When I am cut, you bleed

And I follow you wholeheartedly

There's No Way Around It

Is having limited control of your mouth a fallacy? Are people too sensitive for me to be insensitive toward? Is honesty REALLY the best policy? Can I tell you the truth? Think before you act, or act before you think? Amend the advice to "Live life as if you'll die tomorrow in moderation". Is it possible that some people do not OWN common sense(not the pamphlet)? Are some people beyond hope? Is there hope to be found in every situation? Do people live in separate realities? Is it true that all things happen for a reason? Is it possible that nice guys truly DO finish last? Is the Golden Rule silence or is it treating everyone as you wish to be treated? Are there any truly helpless homeless? Do paranormal entities exist? Aliens? Are conspiracy theories REALLY all that unbelievable? Do humans have the innate inclination to be evil? Would you eat the forbidden fruit? Have you?

It's delicious.

Through the Dark

As I've probably conveyed in my recent musings and public knowledge information, I've been quite lost these days. While driving the other day, my iPod spit this tune out while on shuffle: KT Tunstall's Through the Dark. Sometimes a song explains my emotions to me precisely and inspires me to create something visual.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m_ZGGyhyJU

As I walk away
I look over my shoulder
To see what I'm leaving behind
Pieces of puzzles
And wishes on eyelashes fail

Oh, how do I show
All the love inside my heart?
For this is all new
And I'm feeling my way through the dark

I used to talk
With honest conviction
Of how I predicted my world
I'm gonna leave it to stargazers
Tell me what your telescope says

Oh, what is in store for me now?
It's coming apart
I know that its true
Cos I'm feeling my way through the dark

Trying to find a light on somewhere
Trying to find a light on somewhere
I'm finding I'm falling
in love with the dark over here

Oh, what do I know, I don't care
Where I start
For my troubles are few
As I'm feeling my way through the dark
Through the dark
I'm feeling my way through the dark

"This place has broken my American heart"

Ever had a dream in which you're trying desperately to break free from a hold yet your efforts seem to respond in slow motion? Your arms feel as heavy as steel beams, your punches given with all your might halt as if underwater, your heart races uncontrollably as because you're panicking- sure you're screaming but all that is heard is muffled sputtering weakened rasps.

That dream is my life. I live it every waking moment of every day that I spend reaching for delicate reasoning in world of selfish motives. We are failing each other.

We'll never be anything more but never want anything less. Our fallacies, our country.

But, hey, we're part of it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P4ls0uY3O_c

"50% More" Translates to "174% More Difficult to Use"

Ridonkulousness in the form of Krazy Glue, I give you exhibit A.

It appears to be a decent enough product, and I'm sure, knowing Jennifer (this is foreshadowing, people) that this is probably a product that she has grown to trust. It has never let her down in the past, therefore she plucks it TRUSTINGLY from the myriad of glue of the crazy variety. The packaging isn't all that suspect to the UN-trained eye, but upon further inspection you'll note the "50% MORE" hoop-lah they proudly stamp on the front. It becomes pretty obvious at this point that they have somehow tampered with the product. Probably by enhancing destroying a perfectly perfect design by adding superfluous changes meant to make it "easier to use" which actually makes it MORE impossible to use. Cause let's face it, how easy was it to use any form of wicked adhesive glue in the first place? Sweat dripping down your nose that accumulated underneath the nose pieces of Grandpa's +8.75 reading magnifying glasses while you're trying desperately to piece back together that antique vase that's been in your family for 16 generations (which you accidentally knocked over in a well executed, albeit slightly reckless, fit of excitement over the long overdue Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles marathon) with a set of tweezers in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other looking over your shoulder and jumping at every sound that could POSSIBLY be a garage door but is mostly just Gramps banging around upstairs trying to find his "misplaced" glasses. Whew! I feel better now...

BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT! EXHIBIT B IS THE POINT!

NOTHING SHOULD EVER BE MADE INTO A PEN!!! I know what you're thinking, Sharpies were never meant to be pens either. You run out and buy one thinking "What what!!! They made a permanent PEN that doesn't bleed through!" So there you are, working vigorously on your homework and have become stuck on a question/conversation you're having with a friend and have absent mindedly drawn a very detailed and DARK black hole... which has frickin' BLED THROUGH ON TO THE DINING ROOM TABLE!!! The phone's dropped and you're running full speed to the garage to procure a sander. Do you know how difficult and time consuming it is to use a sander? Do you know how impossible it is to stain a 4" by 6" spot the same color as the rest of the table surface? Do you know how ridiculously tiring it is to sand down an entire dining room table surface, stain it a different color and then convince your mother that you did it to match her decorative plates and tie in the kitchen to the dining room? Thank God I watched Trading Spaces after school each day. Wow, hindsight? Spent a lot of time covering up my accidental tracks.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT! EXHIBIT C IS THE POINT!!!!

Ahem, this is an accurate/crude re-creation of the tip of the stupid pen before I gave it its well deserved haircut. However! Don't make my mistakes. Leave the tip on, cause evidently it's some fancy shmance design that keeps the glue in or whatever with some silly airtight design that also gives you 50% more stupid glue that I can't even use because I accidentally "pierced" the tip of the pen. Which brings me to the close and my lesson learned today. Always read the directions on the back of shysty glue.

I guess I've spent my whole life looking THROUGH the mirror

I've always associated (with good reason) this time of the year with itchy eyes, constant sneezing and an endless running nose. The beginning of the end to sweaters, layers, goose down blankets, and huffing my steamy breath into the air. Saying goodnight to the early winter twilight and respective constellations who signal cozy fires, soothingly warm drinks and that heady scent of falling (DYING!) leaves and plants. I start dreading the blooming of toxic (Yes, TOXIC) flowers and plants that cause my sinuses to implode. Do I really even have to mention pollen Ebola?

Though my eyes are so red and tender that it actually stings when I touch the skin around them, I have skin flaking off of my nose from the harsh tissue and I can actually TASTE Spring each time I walk outside I've yet to stop smiling! I suppose I can be truthful now and actually reveal that I had positively given up on humanity. I'd lost hope for us and myself. I'd lost the desire and courage to better myself and to encourage others to do the same. Music had no rhythm, landscapes had no color, the sun had no brightness and I hadn't the energy to force my heart to keep beating for us all. I'd begun to believe us all evil and selfish (which we are, but I'm good with it).

I have been expecting so much from us all. I've felt deserving of hourly miracles, I've been abhorrently judgmental and irrevocably unforgiving of our God given right to be exactly what we are, mortal. How can I justify asking so much of humanity and demand so little of myself?

So, here I am, standing here changing in front of my watery, itchy eyes. I love Spring. I love the feelings of nostalgia it evokes and the dawn of a new hopeful chapter. I love the numerous smells it emits (when I can smell them) and I love each and every person I come into contact with. Not because of whom I wish you to be, but the person that I believe you to be and the wonderful creation that you are. I'm astonished that I can change so drastically. A person so stubborn and obtuse it's a question as to if I had compassion at all. It's quite possibly the miracle I've been expecting. It's phenomenal to be so sure of the person you are and to open your eyes to find that you never knew who you were at all.

If you read this then you definitely need to listen to The Weepies album "Say I am You" Go on! Shoo! Nothing more to see here