Okay so I have a twitter, some of you might know this, most of you probably don't. I looked up #trust30. I went out and read all the blogs I could that had that hashtag. Or whatever its called. I'm going to cheat a little and pull a bit of a Brandon Sanderson and write about what I was thinking when I wrote. I guess I took my own take on what story means. I feel like I should take a do over on my fifteen minuets. But this whole thing is about trusting yourself so I guess I did the right thing.
I read all the beautiful stories people wrote, about themselves. Regret, love and thanks filled other peoples writings. Mine was all about fear and wanting to make an impact. On top of that it was written in third person. And of course my thoughts came to how I learned about this project, and if it was some sort of test.
As I quickly mentioned earlier, exboyfriend sent this whole thing my way. He hasn't been talking to me for weeks and all of a sudden I got this text telling me to check my email, he had signed me up for something. I was shocked and delighted when I found out that he hadn't subscribed me to some kind of weird porn service. That has been the last I've heard from him. It left me feeling confused. Why would he do something kind for me and then just leave me be. I wasn't sure how to proceed but proceed I did.
I wrote, I didn't write exactly about myself I wrote about somebody else trying to find meaning at the end of their days.
I feel like I failed a test. I feel like I don't deserve to trust myself. Like I suck as a writer and I should just delete my blog and walk away. I did just find an entry that was more like mine. But I tried to step outside of myself, I didn't think about the people I loved, I didn't think about what I wanted from life. I thought about some silly hipster type girl who wanted to leave her mark on the world. I still feel like I messed up. Like I didn't tell the right story.
I didn't tell the story of how I love ex very much. I didn't say how sorry I was that this was the end when the rest of my life looked so bright. I didn't say how I wouldn't be on the computer, I'd be in the car going to see him and praying that I wouldn't die on the way and crash the poor car. I didn't say how for fifteen minuets I'd stop giving a shit about what everyone else wants of me and do what I wanted to do. Even if it means that I'd be treated like shit in my last moments.
I feel like posting this is cheating. Like because I clicked the conformation email that I can't feel bad about what I wrote. Like I can't betray that hey I'm not anymore confident then before.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Gwen Bell – 15 Minutes to Live
She sat there, thinking. What do I have to tell the world? What in my last moments do I have to share. What profound words can I exit this world with? None came to her mind. No great things to sum up her existence on earth. Long lengthy explanations of the choices she made, as one last futile attempt to give herself confidence. Love was definitely on the top of her choices. Had she loved enough in the world, should she go with the clishe, you don't know what you've got until you're gone. There had to be something more profound. She swam through the sea of her emotions. Who would she even leave this great thought with? She was alone, as we all are in death. Should she be funny, make people remember her for her humor. Or perhaps for her compassion. Tell people to love one another. Her innocence, she could warn children that they grow up too fast. So many ideas, and ten minuets left to give them to the world. Ten minuets until her last breath. Then she would be no more. Why do last words matter? Are they really the sum of all that we have been. A few sentences at most, thats all your given when it comes to last words. She could go on forever trying to come up with the right things to make sure that she was remembered the way she wanted to be. Yet her mind was going to all the places it shouldn't, how much she would miss the simple joys that she always forgot about. How she wished she could make things right with her best friend.
That was it, her best friend. How had she done him wrong. How had she done herself wrong. A life time of lessons came to mind. How not to treat somebody you love. How not to speak. She found herself regretting she didn't know more of grammar for that would have been useful with her last thought. Only five minuets left. She couldn't judge the time. But the clock told her it was five minuets. She didn't have anything to say. It hit her like a ton of bricks. She didn't have any profound or spectacular thoughts at the end. Just the normal ones. Her thoughts started going faster, there had to be away for her to come up with something special. Something that was quotable. Something amazing! She had to do it she just had to. She twisted through all the childhood scrapes and cuts, to the teenage bruises. For godsakes she was only a teenager and she had less then five minuets to live. What was she doing letting cliches take her down. She was an original, she could not die a copy. She must think of something she absolutely must! Something amazing, something special. Nothing came to mind. she was empty. inanimate death had not turned her into a wise sage. She was going to die alone, like everybody else. Her life was worthless. Her last attempt to live the life she wanted to had failed. What was she thinking trying to be different. She was the same as everything else. Her life would end like everyone else's. And with that she drew her last breath and died. She was only 19.
The biggest mistake she made was not trusting herself, her last words should have been, "I love you". Original they are not, but they have meaning. That is the most important thing of all. For our lives to have meaning.
That was it, her best friend. How had she done him wrong. How had she done herself wrong. A life time of lessons came to mind. How not to treat somebody you love. How not to speak. She found herself regretting she didn't know more of grammar for that would have been useful with her last thought. Only five minuets left. She couldn't judge the time. But the clock told her it was five minuets. She didn't have anything to say. It hit her like a ton of bricks. She didn't have any profound or spectacular thoughts at the end. Just the normal ones. Her thoughts started going faster, there had to be away for her to come up with something special. Something that was quotable. Something amazing! She had to do it she just had to. She twisted through all the childhood scrapes and cuts, to the teenage bruises. For godsakes she was only a teenager and she had less then five minuets to live. What was she doing letting cliches take her down. She was an original, she could not die a copy. She must think of something she absolutely must! Something amazing, something special. Nothing came to mind. she was empty. inanimate death had not turned her into a wise sage. She was going to die alone, like everybody else. Her life was worthless. Her last attempt to live the life she wanted to had failed. What was she thinking trying to be different. She was the same as everything else. Her life would end like everyone else's. And with that she drew her last breath and died. She was only 19.
The biggest mistake she made was not trusting herself, her last words should have been, "I love you". Original they are not, but they have meaning. That is the most important thing of all. For our lives to have meaning.
Strange Things
I'll be posting twice today. As you all know I broke up with boyfriend. Long story short he signed me up for #trust30. Here is the link. Its a writing prompt for every day. I'm going to do it. Hence the two posts. Best get started on the prompt.
Friday, May 27, 2011
I fail
I made a mistake, I dumped boyfriend. Damn do I regret it. That wasn't the biggest mistake I made. I forgot that I didn't have a normal relationship. I forgot that boyfriend wasn't like wreck or weirdo, I forgot that he was special. I didn't treat him like he was intelligent. I didn't treat him like my partner, my other half. I treated him like the slaves that I've date before. I know it is stupid, and weird to say that. That I dated slaves. These boys never thought outside of the box, they always thought that normal was best and that was the best thing was the right thing.
Boyfriend wasn't and isn't like that. He is smart, he loves thought and reading. I didn't treat him like that, I treated him like the boys that had come before him. Quiet frankly I treated him like shit. I made the mistake of forgetting about him and trying to please myself.
I failed. I failed him, and I failed myself. I don't know who I failed more. I'm not sure if I can fix the mistakes I've made. I'm afraid to post this because I know he'll read it. I'm afraid it will only make things worse. Although I'm not sure I can make things worse. Cause I've messed up pretty badly this time. And the only thing that can fix it is space and time.
I hate that concept, that space and time will fix things. I guess I'm just impatient. I want things to be right, I want to say the right words, do the right things and bada boom bada bang it will all be okay. My existence will be right, I will have said the magic words and all will have healed. That isn't how this world works, we can't hack into each others brains and emotions with a few right words. Heck I don't know the words I would say. Would I say I love you thousand times? Would I say I'm sorry a million times? Would I beg for forgiveness a billion times? I honestly don't know.
I lost something, I lost a lot of things. I think the thing I miss the most is that childhood confidence, you know what I mean, that unshakable belief that you can grow up and do anything, be anything. If you ask an adult can you sing, they say no. Yet if you ask a child they will say yes. Children do not judge on if you did something well, they judge on if you did it. It isn't until we are older that we lose that wonder and excitement from just purely doing something.
When we grow up we lose so much, we lose our faith, we lose our confidence, we lose our innocence. It seems to me that from losing all this we gain unhappiness. We judge and are judged, we use what we have learned rather then making our own paths. That just doesn't seem right to me. Ever since I've become an adult I've been unhappy, I had to play by rules that don't work and frankly don't make sense. I've had to make everyone else happy and neglect myself. I've learned that the real monsters are the ones in your head, and those monsters are the hardest to get rid of.
I'm not afraid of responsibility, I'm not afraid of the adult world. I'm afraid that its messed up and that not enough people look at it with the eyes of a child and go at it with the will of a child. I'm afraid that I'm going to run myself down trying to save the world. Trying to be a hero. Yet if I look at it from the eyes of a child, and I do one thing right, I fix one thing. Then I am forever a hero.
Boyfriend wasn't and isn't like that. He is smart, he loves thought and reading. I didn't treat him like that, I treated him like the boys that had come before him. Quiet frankly I treated him like shit. I made the mistake of forgetting about him and trying to please myself.
I failed. I failed him, and I failed myself. I don't know who I failed more. I'm not sure if I can fix the mistakes I've made. I'm afraid to post this because I know he'll read it. I'm afraid it will only make things worse. Although I'm not sure I can make things worse. Cause I've messed up pretty badly this time. And the only thing that can fix it is space and time.
I hate that concept, that space and time will fix things. I guess I'm just impatient. I want things to be right, I want to say the right words, do the right things and bada boom bada bang it will all be okay. My existence will be right, I will have said the magic words and all will have healed. That isn't how this world works, we can't hack into each others brains and emotions with a few right words. Heck I don't know the words I would say. Would I say I love you thousand times? Would I say I'm sorry a million times? Would I beg for forgiveness a billion times? I honestly don't know.
I lost something, I lost a lot of things. I think the thing I miss the most is that childhood confidence, you know what I mean, that unshakable belief that you can grow up and do anything, be anything. If you ask an adult can you sing, they say no. Yet if you ask a child they will say yes. Children do not judge on if you did something well, they judge on if you did it. It isn't until we are older that we lose that wonder and excitement from just purely doing something.
When we grow up we lose so much, we lose our faith, we lose our confidence, we lose our innocence. It seems to me that from losing all this we gain unhappiness. We judge and are judged, we use what we have learned rather then making our own paths. That just doesn't seem right to me. Ever since I've become an adult I've been unhappy, I had to play by rules that don't work and frankly don't make sense. I've had to make everyone else happy and neglect myself. I've learned that the real monsters are the ones in your head, and those monsters are the hardest to get rid of.
I'm not afraid of responsibility, I'm not afraid of the adult world. I'm afraid that its messed up and that not enough people look at it with the eyes of a child and go at it with the will of a child. I'm afraid that I'm going to run myself down trying to save the world. Trying to be a hero. Yet if I look at it from the eyes of a child, and I do one thing right, I fix one thing. Then I am forever a hero.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Jobs, I refuse to sell my soul for one.
Wow, two posts in one day, neither about what I promised. I am a terrible blogger. I just have to get this out there though. I'm a college student, I'm looking for a job. But I'm not looking hard enough apparently. My parents believe that I'm a liar, that I don't do what I'm told etc. etc. And in away, I am. The truth of it is I'm not willing to sell my soul to make myself miserable, so I can make other people happy. Mainly my parents. I want to stand by what I believe in, and do what I think is right. Even if that means pissing other people off.
The other thing I realize is my parents are never going to be happy. My job isn't going to get me enough money, they wont let me work the hours my parents want me to work. I will get fired because I had class. My parents had job back in the 70s, things have changed big time since then. I realize that I am being too picky, but the other thing is, I have a paying job when I go back to school. It isn't a lot of hours but it is doing something I love. This will be my second professional job in theatre and that is freaking awesome.
Don't get me wrong, I would love a summer job. I started applying for summer jobs the week I got home from school. I got an interview with my previous employer, yet two hours before hand my employer called saying that since I was a college student they couldn't hire me unless I wasn't going back to ISU in the fall. I got a phone interview from yet another company, and haven't heard hide nor hare of them since. Yet another place I got a definate no from. This leaves at least 6 more stores I haven't had a word from at least.
I guess the hardest part for me is that I'm a creative human being, and I'd love to become self employed. Giving art lessons, or through an etsy shop, I really don't care. I want to foster my creativity and let myself go. I'd also love to get a summer job in my major, but since I am only a freshman and I didn't do the leg work that really doesn't span out for me.
Well there you go. A real live post.
The other thing I realize is my parents are never going to be happy. My job isn't going to get me enough money, they wont let me work the hours my parents want me to work. I will get fired because I had class. My parents had job back in the 70s, things have changed big time since then. I realize that I am being too picky, but the other thing is, I have a paying job when I go back to school. It isn't a lot of hours but it is doing something I love. This will be my second professional job in theatre and that is freaking awesome.
Don't get me wrong, I would love a summer job. I started applying for summer jobs the week I got home from school. I got an interview with my previous employer, yet two hours before hand my employer called saying that since I was a college student they couldn't hire me unless I wasn't going back to ISU in the fall. I got a phone interview from yet another company, and haven't heard hide nor hare of them since. Yet another place I got a definate no from. This leaves at least 6 more stores I haven't had a word from at least.
I guess the hardest part for me is that I'm a creative human being, and I'd love to become self employed. Giving art lessons, or through an etsy shop, I really don't care. I want to foster my creativity and let myself go. I'd also love to get a summer job in my major, but since I am only a freshman and I didn't do the leg work that really doesn't span out for me.
Well there you go. A real live post.
Another I'm sorry.
I have kept my promise to clean my room and take pictures, sadly this week I haven't really had time to sit down and write a half way decent post about it. In between trying to get community college straightened out(Its a damn kinky bastard) and dealing with my parents (a sick and twisted pair if you ever wanted to know one) I really haven't had time to write out the stories behind the items. Also my room doesn't look any cleaner.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Week One
I promised last friday I would give you guys pictures of something interesting that I threw out each day. I'm also debating about translating each post into Italian, because I wont have any other way to practice. Also I would like to send a shout out to Ariel, the awesome woman behind the offbeat empire, and her article Committing pack-rat suicide: how I killed my need to keep absolutely everything. I'm using my blog as a way of telling the stories behind some items, so I may finally get rid of them!
I guess the other reason is even more personal. I need to start developing my own style. I spend hours ogling the indy, hipster, geek, eco, steampunk, and all kinds of other aesthetics. I never take the courage to use what I collect, on the internet and in real life to do something with it. So I'm getting rid of the things that aren't me, and I'm keeping the things that are.
Day One- May Seventh
I have just started getting rid of things, the first thing I hear, what are you doing? If I were you I'd just take a trash bag to this place, well you see I'm cleaning off my desk so I can put some objects that are in roughnecks there and have a clear work station. Also so I can clear out at least one roughneck that is full of "college only" things. Still the trash bag is king came into conversation. I'm not sure what is so hard to understand. This is my father
My mother on the other hand, I tried to explain the concept of pat rat suicide, as I will now call it, didn't exactly get it. Yet when I went to give her a beautiful silver baby hair care set my papa gave me, she couldn't understand why I didn't want to store it. I am starting to believe that she wishes there would be a shrine to my baby hood in my nearly twenty year old self's room. Uh oh I just gave away my age.
Another frustrating thing about day one. My mother expects me to help me with her chores, that is fine. Except for I'm being threatened to have all of my things thrown out again by my father. Mean while I find my most important task to be turning over a new leaf when it comes to my life. Meaning organization. I realize as a crafty artist I need to have a crazy crafty artist place! Meaning my room. I like how I keep explaining my thoughts with I mean. Also my computer is becoming covered in dust because I never dust and its really gross.
Day Two-May Eighth
I didn't do much of my own cleaning because today is mothers day. What did happen was my mother has decided I am too fat and she will enter a contest to see who can lose the most weight. Now I've already given away my own age, but lets just say my mother waited to have children until her career was started. So there is a large gap.
Day Seven-May Thirteenth
Well I fail once again, at least I am updating on time. I've been doing the post college get home and do job applications. Also doing my parents chores for them. The worst has been the job apps. It just just confirmed my ideas about capitalism. Dear adults running companies in the world, get your crap together man cause I'm sick of playing your games. I'm sorry I'm not funnier this week but it could get better.
I guess the other reason is even more personal. I need to start developing my own style. I spend hours ogling the indy, hipster, geek, eco, steampunk, and all kinds of other aesthetics. I never take the courage to use what I collect, on the internet and in real life to do something with it. So I'm getting rid of the things that aren't me, and I'm keeping the things that are.
Day One- May Seventh
I have just started getting rid of things, the first thing I hear, what are you doing? If I were you I'd just take a trash bag to this place, well you see I'm cleaning off my desk so I can put some objects that are in roughnecks there and have a clear work station. Also so I can clear out at least one roughneck that is full of "college only" things. Still the trash bag is king came into conversation. I'm not sure what is so hard to understand. This is my father
My mother on the other hand, I tried to explain the concept of pat rat suicide, as I will now call it, didn't exactly get it. Yet when I went to give her a beautiful silver baby hair care set my papa gave me, she couldn't understand why I didn't want to store it. I am starting to believe that she wishes there would be a shrine to my baby hood in my nearly twenty year old self's room. Uh oh I just gave away my age.
Another frustrating thing about day one. My mother expects me to help me with her chores, that is fine. Except for I'm being threatened to have all of my things thrown out again by my father. Mean while I find my most important task to be turning over a new leaf when it comes to my life. Meaning organization. I realize as a crafty artist I need to have a crazy crafty artist place! Meaning my room. I like how I keep explaining my thoughts with I mean. Also my computer is becoming covered in dust because I never dust and its really gross.
Day Two-May Eighth
I didn't do much of my own cleaning because today is mothers day. What did happen was my mother has decided I am too fat and she will enter a contest to see who can lose the most weight. Now I've already given away my own age, but lets just say my mother waited to have children until her career was started. So there is a large gap.
Day Seven-May Thirteenth
Well I fail once again, at least I am updating on time. I've been doing the post college get home and do job applications. Also doing my parents chores for them. The worst has been the job apps. It just just confirmed my ideas about capitalism. Dear adults running companies in the world, get your crap together man cause I'm sick of playing your games. I'm sorry I'm not funnier this week but it could get better.
Friday, May 6, 2011
I am terrible at keeping up with my blog
I hope to to be posting once a week now. At least. I'm thinking of changing my topics up a bit. I want to start talking about something that I am deeply embarrassed about. I am a messy, terribly messy, heck why not go with diblitatingly messy. The funny thing is I can be organized, in my head. In my head everything is in neat little boxes, and everything has a reason for being there. For those of you thinking of a cubical environment stop right there.
My little mind definitely looks a lot more like this. Ornate, beautiful, a bit old fashioned, yet still practical. Yet my room looks more like the starting of a hoard. You can't see the floor, sometimes there are paths through it, yet in my move back from college, I realized how much stuff I really have. I have too much. Why because I need to keep everything. I just need to collect to have. Wow what a consumer I am.
Well I'm hoping to have a day by day of one interesting thing at least, that I threw away that day. In other words, I going to give you at least seven different things I threw away this week. And the stories behind them. Possibly pictures.
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