February

I do love Valentine's Day and all things pink, but everything else about February I absolutely loathe.

The weather is shit.
It's plenty cold.
It seems like winter will NEVER END.

But mostly, I guess, it's what happened two years ago...

two years ago.

I don't even remember the date.

I remember EVERY important date. Take last summer: May 31, June 26, July 2, July 20, August 21.
Or 2008: July 23, August 9, August 19.

But I'd have to look up the February date to remember it. I guess it wasn't important to me.

I mean, I know it wasn't important. Not like that. Not like it's supposed to be.

He didn't even believe me...

When it's all said and done, though, he didn't hurt me. He didn't break my heart. Men who had done much less to me had done much more damage.

You know, he was my only Valentine. How fucked up is that?

stop, please, just let me go
Alejandro, just let me go

Vague but emo

(or vaguely emo?)

Words cannot describe what a total mindfuck I am going through.

To follow up on a theme in my recent posts, I've finally gotten last summer out of my head. Like, completely. I know I loved him, but I don't remember liking him. Not like I...

I did something remarkably stupid last night. I read through my journal from a few summers ago.

And for me it's pure deja vu. It's the exact same story. I'm reacting the exact same way.

How could I let that happen?

always turning back to you 'til you never let me down
loving your illusion, staring at a crooked ground
...you always let me down

Try to remember...

Usually I have an over-active repression reflex. It's not anything I do consciously; I have a bad memory in the first place, and some things it's just easier not to think about.
-I have to work pretty hard to remember an awkward but not at all traumatizing date from last month.
-Nothing out of the ordinary happened in September, that's for sure (what Josh? I know no Josh).
-And this talk of the Irish Guy? That's a dream I only remember because I jotted down a summary right after I woke up.

So why does every detail of last summer play constantly in my head?

It would be so much easier if I just forgot.

*gesture*

Listening to Spice Girls on the way home tonight I realized what had started a year ago tonight. I was halfway-composing an emo blog, but you know, I am not feeling emo. I am feeling energized and well-rested and in love with life. So fuck that. ha!

Remind me sometime later to write a post about my failure as an environmentalist.

Thinking about joining my church here in Springfield. As far as FBC-Sf vs. LMBC goes, sure, it would make more sense to be a member of FBC now that I'm here for a good long while. But what's holding me back is...I mean...I just don't believe some of the whole Baptist doctrine. The whole Christianity doctrine. I love church. I love being involved and helping people and the superficial kind of stuff. But I 100% do not believe John 14:6, the whole no one comes to the Father except through Jesus thing. And probably to join a church I'd have to agree to some sort of basic doctrine, and that would be on it. And I can't lie to join a church, for goodness' sake. So I would be joining for the wrong reasons, I guess? I want to join because it's weird for me to be so involved and not even be a member, mostly. So that I can be a better part of the community. Not for any God-type reasons at all...

I mean, look at my facebook page. My religious beliefs are not "love God, love people" (the essence of Christianity, I would say). My religious beliefs are "love your neighbor as yourself."

Don't get me wrong, I believe in God, and I love Him (It? Her?). But I just don't see how that's anywhere near as relevant, as important, as necessary, as doing everything you can to end suffering here in the terrestrial realm.

In conclusion...I have no motivation to remain a member at my home church. But I don't think I can honestly join a church with my current belief set.

words

Summer morning and I forget it's only April.
I walk to class automatically,
Almost expecting to see Carly.
Perfect weather soon yields to sticky lethargy,
But in the meantime...

Seasons echo the cycles of my own life.
I'm not the girl I was last spring:
Naive, idealistic, wanting, needing.
I'm not the woman I was last summer:
Needing, desperate, clinging, betrayed.
I'm not even the person I was three weeks ago...

Regrets?
Not really...
I feel so much more genuinely me,
That perhaps it was worth the pain.
I've learned so much more in the last twelve months
Than in the twenty years before them.

I know I can't keep living like this.
It's not, well, sustainable,
To use our favorite catchphrase.
Already there have been calls far too close.

Yet I don't know what else there is.

Before this door of my personality was opened,
Flirty, sexy, confident, fun,
I...I could feel the void?

I don't want to close the door and reclaim that boring-ness...



(NB: I think this is prose, just spaced out to more clearly show my thought process. It's been the English Symposium this week and I've had to go to readings and stuff...I wish I could do creative writing, but I just don't think I have the discipline...)


on a cloudy day it's more common than you think
he's my first mistake

it's all been done

It's hard for me to think of anything to write. I feel like in the three months of this blag I've said the same thing over and over. And in two weeks I'm gonna recap it all, anyway (April 27 is gonna be an EPIC post, I'm just sayin', ahaha). What can I say? To quote Ecclesiastes, there is nothing new under the sun...or to quote BNL, it's all been done.

Joseph Campbell, one of the foundations of my big research paper. He equates every story from every culture throughout all of human history. Every culture tells the same story because every person can relate to it because it is his or her own life on a more significant level. (This inspired an existential crisis in me sometime last fall, heh.)

If so much of individual existence is the same, the same, the same, where does the individual find his or her meaning?

I can't answer that question. But, I mean, it doesn't matter if the shit I'm going through, millions of people have gone through before; it's new to ME. All I am is my mind, my personality, my consciousness. THAT is what matters. Cogito ergo sum. 'Tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. The way I perceive the world, my experiences--even if my experiences are nothing novel, the way I perceive them is 100% unique.

And so what?

I don't know.

One of my professors said the key to bringing about social change, to ending racism, to ending oppression, is a life of the mind. To read, to be aware, to be able to relate and consider and maybe, just maybe, understand. This really struck me.

I don't have any answers, but I'm okay with that for now.