Tag Archives: writing

As the air grows cold, the trees unfold

And I am lost and not found

It seems I’ve been missing for some time now and while I haven’t received any huge complaints for the lack of overly serious and long posts, here I am.

When I started this little venture, I had no goal in mind really except to continue writing. That has no longer been a challenge, but now what is a challenge is finding that niche, that thing I really like to write and learn about. My job is somewhat like translating a foreign language and no doubt the vision of what I like to read and write about has been marred with the incessant need to be a “good worker” – which in fact, I am not being one at the moment..

I also had it in my mind that when I didn’t have the words, maybe I would use someone else’s. I think its possible that the challenge of verbalizing thoughts is hugely underestimated by the general public. It’s much harder to just say exactly what you want and in a somewhat respectable way. So the words I will use for today are just the ones of a song that continually plays in my head since I heard it. Already I’ve stolen it for moments in my life- moments that I like and admit to more than I should.

I’ve fallen back into an old habit of listening to music throughout the day. Seems to help during the times when you just want to get by for a while. I have a love affair with a few musicians that do nothing, but write beautiful music and lyrics. Perhaps that is how I should be spending my time. I always wonder what it is that makes us like the things we do. A song I like is in no way going to be liked by the person who sits at the desk behind me in work.

I’ve recently come to wish that I could control things much more than I really can. I never thought I had that in me, but I’ve been yearning for the ability to understand why I feel and like the things I do. Suddenly, it wouldn’t be so difficult to explain some belief in the ether and those the judging ears of listeners may have to reassess their ruling once I am able to explain something so inexplicable. Suddenly, every time I’ve reasoned with myself in vain and came away fruitless would disappear – reasoning would no longer seem so aimless.

While I spend so much of my time trying to explain these idiotic things I think and do, there are a few things I have come to label as truths in my mind. You’d think I’d at least take that home and feel better about my lack of answers, but alas it is unsurprisingly not enough.

Throughout the ins and outs – the ups and downs – I  know so very few constants other than that there is no such thing as a constant in the way of things of the world. There are these trends that come and go – there are days of unhappiness, days of utter bliss and days filled with good songs and odd dancing. And while there are people who remain, there is nothing to speak for them to stay except trust – the trust they readily asked of you.  There is nothing permanent and I have to remind myself so very often not to be too caught up to remember that.

Your gains in being here my friend, in reading this, is you know a smidget more about some girl who tries to find explanations for every aspect of her life. Perhaps if you read all of these posts, you’d see it more clearly than me. What I know is that it’s nice to take a breather, to stop. Even if just for a while. And try to remind myself why it was I liked to write at all. Why it was I did any of the things I’ve ever done. To see a reason where there is no rhyme. Or maybe its to put a rhyme to my reason, since I am very easily the least likely person to come up with a plan. What I know is that my own mind exhausts me with its constant striving to find something, anything to explain why I see what I see in people, in anything. And maybe for now, I will just turn it off. I will forget to think awhile and just sway to some song I like, but pretend not to like and try to force all my friends to like..

Either way, I’ll try to not forget why it is I ever liked my dear old friend writing in the first place.

Vagabond by Beirut 

 

 

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no matter how life gets today

Hey Hey Hey by Michael Franti & Spearhead

I’ve been reading a good bit recently, partially because I want to, but mostly because I need an escape. When I begin reading something new, I always wonder how it will be. The first few pages of the chosen book will make it or break it in my mind and I either read on, or move on. So much of this is dependent on my mood. The other day, I finally began reading something a friend had told me read months ago. The moment I began, I couldn’t stop. Everything that was written, each word and each pounding phrase hit me. It was a true moment of feeling as if this author knew exactly how I felt. Here is the puzzle for you.

1. “While there’s no real enemy to be identified, the pain exists nonetheless…”

2. “An intelligent man cannot seriously become anything and that only a fool can become something…a man possessing character, a man of action, is fundamentally a limited character…being overly conscious is a disease”

3. “To reach, by using the most inevitable logical combinations, the most revolting conclusions on the eternal theme that you are somehow or other to blame even for the stone wall, even though it’s absolutely clear once again that you’re in no way to blame, and, as a result of all of this, while silently and impotently gnashing your teeth, you sink voluptuously into inertia, musing on the fact, that as it turns out, there’s no one to be angry with; that an object cannot be found, and perhaps never will be…”

The stone wall we are speaking of acts like a chameleon changing in appearance, but still a chameleon nonetheless. That wall that was there a few months ago is still here now, with different hurdles ahead.

I’ve thought so much about my life, about other people’s lives and where they find their way to get by. I’ve thought about people who absolutely love what they do, and people who dread going to work in the morning. And I’ve been trying to decide where those people that love their jobs succeed. How do they get to where they are?

In no way did school make me feel prepared or as if I truly knew what I wanted to do. I think for now, I have a better idea of what I don’t want to do. What I know is that part of this is attitude and part of it is just straightforward fact. To wake up with the wrong attitude can magnify, can project, can exasperate what is already there.

I have been trying to decide what is worthwhile. Is it worth it to stay where I am? To keep doing what I am doing and constantly feel at odds with myself? So much of how I feel conflicts. I hold guilt for things that are not my fault and stumble in these decisions when I know there will be people that are hurt or harmed or people that will have to work a lot harder than they do now..

Here is my honesty: I allow others to undervalue me because I undervalue myself. I don’t believe anyone to be deserving of anything necessarily because it’s of a mentality that the world revolves around me. Something David Foster Wallace references in his “This is Water” speech (you should read this by the way). Something I try to remind myself of time to time because the world does not revolve around me, my happiness or unhappiness, my job, my life. And while that is the case, it doesn’t make it unfair to seek opportunities that make me happier, but it makes it wrong to constantly dwell on these feelings, this situation.

One thing I have been trying to learn is to not dwell. While many of you may hate “Eat, Pray, Love,” I found something in it that embodied a mindset I have been trying to take on for so long. To think about something, acknowledge the hurt, the pain, the feeling, but to “drop it.”

While people are incredibly resilient, always bouncing back and falling down, do they ever really lick the pain? Do they ever really leave it behind? I wake up with pain in my shoulders and neck. I do it because I carry that pain with me everyday. I might not think about it every second of the day, but it’s there. And I think that more people than none would say the same presence exists in their life in some way. People are broken. I believe that with every bone of my body, every nerve, every ounce in me. But that belief brings nothing, but an acknowledgment that we are somehow the same, somehow connected in this all.

There is no real answer is there. Question or statement, I think the answer varies person to person. We all have some remedy, some way that we make it easier. The days that I come home and feel terrible, I have to make myself forget it somehow. It is much easier, for whatever reason, to just sit there and think about it over and over again. Maybe it’s a character trait mostly, but I know it is much easier to dwell on these negative thoughts, nervousness and discomfort than it is to hold on to the realistic, the positive and the beneficial. Maybe it’s the human condition..

We are so used to being down that it seems an abnormality to be up sometimes. A couple weeks ago, it felt like every single thing was going right. I was on the ball at work, it was doable, and things just seemed like they would work out. Then all of the sudden, it started to go downhill, and, of course, when it did, I began feeling like nothing could ever go right naturally gravitating toward this negative train of thought.

The funny thing is, I was reading the personal statement that I wrote to for school applications and it addressed exactly this. It put me on the spot with myself because the very characteristic that I used to pride myself in is currently waning in this situation.

I wrote about my childhood, which consisted of random and constant sickness. I am beginning to believe that I blocked a majority of it out, but it truly did define much of who I am: my hardheadedness, my hatred for being babied, and my unfailing need to prove everyone wrong.

I was severely allergic to walnut trees, but continued to play in the leaves despite this. That is the way of a child of course. Constantly doing something, taking a chance despite the negative consequences that would ensue. The point of course being that those negative feelings do not outweigh the reward.

I told colleges this about myself and playing in leaves:

“We would make little progress this way, but it allowed us to enjoy things that were normally dreary. Our games were hardly original, but they are something that I still value today as a life philosophy. After spending a day playing tiring games, I would go home feeling sick. However, my short-term illness was incomparable to the day that had just passed. Every day spent playing in the walnut trees was a risk. My allergies were unpredictable and playing in such a dangerous field seems as if I was begging for illness, but my constant experience with sickness allowed me to build an optimistic view of life. I did not spend my time worrying about the hours I would spend tending to my stuffy nose later. I didn’t worry because I recognized that in all choices there are unpredictable outcomes. Since we are unable to control what happens to us, it is our job to take those situations and make the best of them. Playing in leaves, despite the pain it caused later, was one of the best decisions I made as a child. Reflecting on it now, I find a lesson that I hope to utilize in the coming years. As a person and a student, raking leaves and odd sicknesses have taught me to live with optimism and the belief that I can make the best of any situation as well as allow those situations to better me as a person.”

It’s funny, the timing of my going and reading this. I am at an exact point where I am afraid to take a chance because of the consequences. I am exactly in a place where that decision I terrifying and not an easy out, like I wish I had.

Something I have always been amazed by is the way in which poignant moments and realizations are eventually lost or fade. I had so many moments as a child where I realized something immense and of huge gravity to my life, but slowly that information, that change just became a memory and no longer affected me. This moment, reading this, it is proof of that experience and how it will continue to repeat itself throughout my life.

Tell me how, in 12th grade, I had better insight into what I need to do than I do now? The answer I can provide is merely that the decisions you make are harder to make when so close to the situation. The myopic view I have is so hindered by guilt, by inconvenience, by other people, but mostly by myself. I set standards in my mind that are in no rational or beneficial in times like these. While they have made me into a sort of perfectionist, they also allow me to be extremely hard on myself and make me indecisive in times like these.

This is the first time I’ve written in weeks it seems. I told myself when I took this job that I would write, I would find a way, but as things go, the way to write becomes harder to find, harder to maneuver and make the time.

There is no resolution. There is no definite answer because everyone seems to have a different one. I come to that point frequently because to me, if I waited until some universal truth came about, or was found, I may be waiting too long. I am 20. I am 20 years old and this is what my life consists of. Sometimes I forget that I am younger than most people in the same situation as myself.

I think what I need is to take time to give myself some credit, since I have yet to do that so far. I know what I need is to take a chance here. I need to take steps toward making things change. I can’t count how many poems, stories and articles I’ve read encouraging me to seize the day and also how few times I think I’ve truly listened. Here is where I go from here: I make a change. Sometimes a change in attitude is not enough and sometimes being hardheaded to stick a position out just because you said you would is not the best answer.

And, yes, I am still talking myself into my decision. Probably because I never thought I would be here. There is such a glorified picture of what a career is in my head. I don’t know exactly how it got there, but it is there. While I know I may not find that picture, I want to get close. I want to do something I love. In the mean time, I’ll do as the 12th grade me would do. I’ll make the best of what I have because there is no point dwelling on it. I just have to let it go.

Try it some time. It’s worth it.

“Notes From the Underground” by Fyodor Dostoevskey

“Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert

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just words

Just my words, to be more precise. Here’s a post that holds nothing, but my own words. No songs, no pictures or art, just me. In my most simple form.

I’ve been reading more than usual recently. It’s the first time reading has acted as an escape instead of an assignment. In school, most of my assignments were reading, which is not atypical in any sense, but it was easier to read two 300 some page books a week when it was for an assignment. Now, I look at a thick book and honestly, I want to run. I will sit in my room and stare into space instead of embarking on that kind of challenge..at least usually. So what have I read? Just some books my friends have suggested. Over Christmas I read Perelandra by C.S. Lewis. That was refreshing to say the least. It’s the second of a space trilogy. I never considered myself to be a big science fiction fan, but the books I’ve read suggest otherwise. I guess Lewis may not be everyone’s cup of tea, and really no writer will be, but the philosophies he has are enticing and interesting. Much of that philosophy includes Christianity, and well, before you run for the hills…the reason it’s interesting is because it takes a common concept, often misconstrued and clichéd in our culture, and puts it in an unfamiliar landscape. The problems in these novels are things that you would expect when traveling to another planet. You know the usual, Americans wanting to harvest the resources of another planet..sound familiar? It’s not really about that as much as it is about people. What they do and why they do it. My synopsis anyway. These books have kept my interest because they allow me to see a beaten idea revitalized and anew. That’s a difficult thing to do in my opinion. The next in the series is That Hideous Strength which I am really looking forward to. (Nerdy)

 Next, was a book much different from the last. Brief Interviews with Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace. That book was exhausting at points. He reminds me of Vonnegut and Paulinuk as well as people like Kathy Acker and the all time exhausting narrative, Naked Lunch by William Burroughs. Although, Wallace was nowhere near that level of absurdity, his narrative is all over the place. I guess there’s a point, but the acclamation takes a few chapters. Some would say Burroughs was a genius and perhaps he was, but for a college student, he was a pain that encouraged me to never speak in class or b.s. exponentially when called upon.

The thing is, few of you have read these authors, and I would hardly jump the gun and grab one of these to pass the afternoon. Consider it a challenge to read Burroughs. Consider it exhausting to read Breakfast of Champions by Vonnegut. However, I don’t want to make myself seem in conflict with this narratives. Reading each was a learning process and I will say that I have never read a book without some sort of positive experience or some sort of learning occurring. Brief Interviews..was suggested by a classmate after reading a short story I wrote. One, that I may consider posting, but I am hesitant as usual. Although the two are very dissimilar, they were similar in that there is a format of unasked questions being answered. The challenge was making it obvious what those questions were without beating them to death. Wallace does it in such a way that the questions really don’t matter. You could possibly guess what he said, but in terms of the book it didn’t matter. I can’t say reading Wallace helped my short story along all that much, but a good writer is a reader, at least that’s what they say. My favorite parts to the book were not the interviews, but instead the random narrative in between. They didn’t necessarily connect to the interviews, but they reverberated similar tones and messages in a different way. I’ve gotten into the practice of writing down quotes from books that I find compelling.

“There seems to be something death-tending at the very heart of all Romance (‘…that ever love story is also {a} ghost story…’)

The nice thing about quotes and lyrics is that they say it all.

So after that, I read two brief books a friend gave to me. The Transall Saga by Gary Paulsen and The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells. It’s sort of nice to actually be able to list off books recently read. These two were my first taste of escape fiction for as long as I can remember. It’s nice to get lost in words, to forget what time it is or what there is left to do. The Transall Saga is definitely young adult fiction. The first chapters, I felt a little snobby. I found myself guessing at the plot and laughing since the conflict happened in the second paragraph and continued to escalate at a rate I wasn’t used to. I guess a lot of books I read are slow-moving. They pick one thing and focus on it, analyze it, engross it. This book was purely an adventure for the character and after a while, me too.

The Island of Dr. Moreau was my first introduction to H.G. Wells. I know, an English major and I have hardly read anything at all! I give myself “tisk tisks” all the time for it. This book was really Frankenstein-like. I think for me the most interesting part was considering this book in relation to recent fiction. It’s much shorter and very thorough as to what the point is. Other books from that time follow a similar trend. Now, I think we are in this stage where fiction is either very flighty and exaggerated or very downtrodden, discussing how all is wrong in the world. Maybe that hasn’t change as much as the manner these things are explored. The tricky thing in writing is that everything has more or less been said already. So, the writer’s task is to find a way to say it to surprise, to entice, to make people reconsider. Isn’t it funny, that people have always been alive, thinking, eventually writing and reading, studying, and essentially trying to better things or figure them out. Do you find it funny at all that we are still looking for those same answers? That we have different ideas or phrasing left? It’s a funny thing to me, at least.

And there is Slaughterhouse Five which I finished yesterday afternoon. It really does feel great to say I’ve finished these books. Honestly, my track record for downtime reading is awful. If I start a book, I used to never finish it and if I did, it wouldn’t be for a couple of months. Read this one in a few days. I just feel good about that, okay. Vonnegut is interesting to me. This book was much more coherent than the other I read by him. At first, I felt similar to when I read Wallace in that it’s exhausting at first. Once you get past that initial shock of the narrative style, it moves quickly. So, Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time. This book is my father’s favorite. We talked about it a bit and in doing so, I realized how much more interesting it is to read and discuss than to just read. I love talking about books. I was that annoying girl in my classes that was always talking and always had something to say, even about Beowulf. Yeah, that’s me. My dad was talking about the idea of the book being that you don’t have control over your life. He teaches it in class and he asked them about free will and whether it really existed. As many of us would, the students defended the notion that they had control over their lives. And my dad brought up Japan in telling my friend and me the story. He asked if we thought that was those people’s will and I doubt any of us would say yes. I know in class I would have possibly argued that parts of our lives are choice, but there are certain factors we can’t control. But some things are as easy to believe as a man who time travels and is kidnapped and put on display in a zoo in Tralfmadore.

So, now I am reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and thinking about how all the books one my friend suggests are somehow about science or scientists themselves. And I was thinking about people and what makes them who they are. There are so many factors that the answer is indeterminate, but it’s nice to have those little things we can track or point to when we want to know why. I’m worried this will further my already irrational fear of submarines and drowning. Ironic since I spent many of my summers working at a pool. Writers love irony, just if you didn’t already know. And then I’ve got this exercise book for graphic design…

I’ve got a stack of books by my bed. I could always add more. My teacher told me when I decided not to apply to graduate school right way that this was the time for me to learn on my own. People ask if I miss college. I think the only thing I miss so far is someone to be there to give me perspective when all I see are chapters and words. The things right in front of you are the hardest to see.

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I’m gonna build somebody else

  Symbol In My Driveway

Jack Johnson

This picture really only serves to appease the more visually driven people. A personal confession: I think I am not too concerned with how each post looks or what pictures to include most of the time. In fact, it is burdensome and makes me lose track of what I really wanted to do in the first place. Write.

It’s been a while. I could you could say I’ve been processing and reprocessing the things around me, the things going on, or more accurately the things that haven’t happened. I am neglecting to mention a trip to Florida and my first half marathon until now mostly because I don’t think anyone cares or should care about that. If you want to know, you could always ask. This is not what that’s for, or at least I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to be hindered by the number of views I have in a day, like the number of comments or notifications I can receive. It’s a moot point.

One thing I am never short of these days is advice. In all honesty, I always have advice for people and taking my own advice is probably the thing that happens the least in my life. Luckily, everyone sees the unemployed, struggling college grad as an easy target to unload advice and life stories on. The advice doesn’t go unappreciated, although I will say that this time has led to an increase in my already sensitive person. Yes, I often take things personally that I shouldn’t and, no, I don’t really like to admit that often. My most recent advisor was met in the local coffee shop. I was trying to leave since the place was closing, but he continued to quietly suggest things to do or not to do. He told me how he would hire someone and what he would look for. I walked away feeling slighted because, well, when you have to admit you can’t do it on your own…Here are the two points to take away. First, I am extremely stubborn right now and resistant to the idea that I may have to go back to the same summer job I’ve had for the past four years. Second, the man told me to write. He told me that he’d much rather hire someone who has been busy doing something, anything, and growing despite their unemployment. Naturally, I felt guilty. I’ve been reading and applying for jobs, but writing. That hasn’t been happening or coming as easily as it used to.

I could account for that in several ways. For one, I don’t have much going on. No one wants to admit it and once you admit it, it becomes an infection on your brain and perception of yourself. All these things become so exaggerated especially with the amount of free time I have. And the solution is to find something to do. The solution is to stop thinking about things in that way. The solution is to do something and find something to say. I’m not looking for more advice or an answer. I think I just want control over my life again. A foolish notion no doubt since there is no such thing. I guess I want the belief of control.

I just keep thinking about people. I think about how we all have those things that make the days pass, sometimes worth while, sometimes just time passers. School, work, God, family, children,  books, art, running…whatever it is, it’s what gives structure to a day, it gives meaning to existence and shape to what comes next. If you were to ask me what’s next, I wouldn’t know how to answer. In the back of my mind there is this festering notion that having a job wouldn’t make me feel much better about things. It would make things easier no doubt. It would stop the advisors, it would stop the persisting questions from my parents, it would stop that flag in the back of my mind always saying, “no money, no job, no life.” That’s a bit more dramatic than it actually occurs. However, as someone who often takes things personally, it is incredibly difficult to apply for twenty some jobs in a month and not hear back from a single one. Oh, I did get a rejection email today…mind you I also got an email asking for an interview to write for some website no one has heard of.

The other piece of advice the coffee shop man told me was to never send my resume in an email…now I had no idea how to break the news to him that most job applications are online and they encourage you to submit online. Don’t worry, I am sufficiently angry about the subject since I believe it makes it easier to reject mass numbers of hopeful applicants without ever seeing a face or hearing a voice. Most job postings now include, “no calls.” So that classic advice of following up with a call now looks like a, “no-no,” to me, the hopeful and often disappointed applicant. Let me just some up the job search process by saying, it sucks.

I now watch old movies where the hopeful applicant takes a newspaper, circles jobs, and goes in asking for an interview with such envy. Of course, I can still call and go in to ask for the job, but it’s drastically different. The job offer I may be getting is for a website. The editor is in Mexico. My position would be filled from my desktop computer at home. Tell me, is that surprising to you?

As a side note, the unfortunate thing for you, the reader, is that when I do actually write, I have a ton to say.

Sometimes, I think I belong in a different time. A time where this would be in a paper journal that no one would read unless I handed them that journal. Aspects of this period are so nice and easy. But I can’t imagine how people had confidence before. Jack Johnson, a pretty awesome writer and musician in my opinion, would have to gain confidence through concerts, not through Facebook page fans, or Twitter followers. As another side note, I make fun of Twitter pretty often. I’m just not sure that the whole tweeting thing is for me. There’s no one I would want to “follow,” in fact, I think it may serve as an ego booster since you can now base your popularity off the number of followers you can get on a social media page. That’s my point, I guess. The average person can have a blog or a twitter and they can write and say things that people find funny or interesting. And that person’s confidence would likely grow or diminish by the number of followers or readers they have. It’s nice, in a way. The average person has such a huge opportunity to feel like a bigger part in this world, but I feel nostalgia for a more simple period. A period where a writer wrote something and the merit wasn’t placed in the number of readers. Perhaps there is a flaw in my thinking, since even then, things were based off profit and the number of papers or books bought. My point is that I think there is a false confidence in these social medias at times. A side note to my side note about Twitter, I actually respect the creator a huge amount. Recent article in Vanity Fair, worth checking out.

 I guess, it seemed more simple when I could just write something. When I didn’t have to include pictures to entice a reader. Maybe someone will see this picture of my man, Jack, and be tricked into reading some blog about jobs? Jobs have nothing to do with Jack Johnson! Just listen to the song and that will make it a little better…The thing is, I just would like to walk into an office and ask for a job, not because I have a meeting set up, not because the editor liked my work, but because I am an unemployed college grad that really loves the work their company does…

The thing is, falling apart in life is a regular thing in ways. We act like it’s not when it happens. Because everything really is that awful. And we acknowledge that things will get better, but we want that right this second. And, no, no one understands. How could they? There are only how many people in the world that have the exact same problems as you, and you think you are alone? Not everyone can rationalize these feelings to the point that they disappear.

In Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, he always says, “listen..” as if the reader isn’t paying attention. They probably aren’t, but listen: it’ll be alright and I will too. Just have some faith.

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It Goes On

“It Goes On and On” by the Avett Brothers

Do you ever get this feeling, where you feel almost like the person living your life isn’t you? It’s never really for the same reason. Sometimes it’s fatigue. Sometimes you are so tired that you watch your body in it’s motion, completely detached. Sometimes it’s because you do something, and can’t believe you were capable of that action, surprising yourself in a way. Or maybe it’s this: you hear about people everyday doing things and it’s always been known, expected, determined that you would do those things too. And when you begin to fall into those roles, doing those pre-determined things, it’s always a funny feeling to see how your version of the “story” turns out.

So, here I am. I am an unemployed, post-grad, a tune well played these days. While I could easily spend all of my time talking about how awful it is trying to find a job, the long tedius process of being rejected time and time again, the long night internet searches, the desperate, “I’ll apply for anything I can get,” mood, etc. Most everyone has gone through this whether it was for the summer job, internship, career, or just a whatever job. It always amazes me how unimpressive a person can be on paper. It’s a very belittling feeling, to list your so called accomplishments in a Word document and get three lines down only to say, “that’s it?” Yes, that’s it.

Despite that discouraging moment, I’ve concluded simply that a sheet of paper is an unfair judge of a person. The challenge, I suppose, is to learn to market all your oh so wonderful attributes in as few words as possible. Oh the joys of job searching!

Well, here I am, unemployed, and well, struggling to continue doing what I enjoy. Something in the insecurity after college makes you question every aspect of your life. You wonder if you majored in the right thing. It’s too late to fix that really, but you wonder. You wonder why you decided to take Language and Logic to count for a math instead of doing something more practical, more marketable for that list you have to keep updating. And all those times you did things so you could, “build your resume.” Maybe that wasn’t as helpful as you thought it would be. Do you still love writing? Is it really what you wanted to do for the rest of your life? Well there isn’t much of a choice now is there. You play mind games. You convince yourself that there is absolutely no job right for you, so you better become brilliant over night and create the next Harry Potter before the bank runs dry. Yeah, this is the life I look at and think, so this is my life.

I’m not sure I am doing the feeling justice. There are these landmarks that we always knew would come, and they come more quickly than anyone ever warns you. High School graduation, pick a college, make a career, get a hott hubby, get hitched, make babies, get old, get bitter…okay not bitter, but we all know the story. Each time I’ve hit one of these landmarks, I’m surprised, not necessarily in a bad way. I am surprised because life is never what you expect it to be. And I am sorry to all those creative writing majors out there who recognize that last line as a cliche. Sometimes the cliches are the most accurate version of this thing we call life. Oh that sounds like another…

This is the first time I’ve written in a while and it feels too good to be true. I felt like a disgrace to my generation when I found myself yelling at the computer and frowning at this oh so confusing computer screen trying to follow through on my goal. I am more technologically challenged than I thought I was…and just as long winded as ever.

So, the writing bit. Let’s be honest, I was struggling with this whole theme thing. It seemed a little too self involved to just start a blog and write whatever my heart pleases. I needed some sort of confine, right? I mean, who will read this if I don’t have some cutesie theme or some really amazing thing needed to be said. I really have neither of those, at least I will not claim to either. My excuse for a theme is just lines. You all have them I’m sure. That line in a song, that part in the book, just that moment when the words come together perfectly and everything connects. My personal favorite moment is the way in which a song and lyric build to this perfectly constructed moment that it provides this sensation in you where you want to just close your eyes and sing your lungs out. It’s a moment that, honestly, I find hard to define. So, that will be my theme. These will be the song titles, the favorite lines, the exquisit moments, the, “you get me,” feelings we’ve all had. Some of these will be mine. Some of them will just be random songs I like, or books I am reading. But really, I admit that I have an overplayed list of songs in my head and books are harder to get through at times than I would like. So, feel free to help, to suggest, to try to change my taste. I could use a new playlist all around.  And that is the challange. The challenge is to use these random pieces and try to make something new, something in my own words. These are my thoughts. These are the notes I’m making about life, about the world, in hopes that I won’t forget how to construct a sentence, a perfect story, or how to recognize those pesky cliches.

Listen to the song, don’t listen to the song, but know that it’s the theme. Doesn’t everything go on? Most of us live our lives in this constant state of panicked motion so that we hardly have the time to breath, to blink, to just stop and see something. As we roll through the days, they pass in a manner never as we would expect, but exactly how they should. And life goes on, right?  We have to go on. There is something in the dwelling that makes us lose that secure feeling that the hecticness of each day provides. So, don’t dwell too long. Don’t let the words linger on the tip of your tongue, but do stop long enough to remember what it is you were hoping for. I am hoping that I will learn to write something outside myself and that one day, someone will think it’s a line worth borrowing, worth titling a blog over, just worth it.

…it goes on

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