Soundtrack

I live in the upper corner of a very crowded college dorm and I am privy to the many sounds associated with ...people, just people in general. From garbage trucks to weekwackers to giggling friends to longing lovers' long goodbyes to young lovers' foolish fights. Sometimes the noise can be unbearable and annoying, but luckily not a whole lot of things can ever bug me enough to reach the point of unhappiness. My favorite noise I hear every night is probably one thought of as annoying to most residents. The Polynesian who lives two doors down from me starts playing music from her laptop when she gets home from work around eleven pm  and it goes straight on until the morning. They're all American songs, but I think I like them so much because it's the kind of music I remember listening to on my mother's and father's radio. Nothing modern or loud or abrasive and attention grabbing which most contemporary music aspires to be. It's just a simple songs that are becoming her soundtrack for her college life yet gently lull me into state of security and sleep as if the soundtrack of my childhood is a lullaby I had forgotten I needed. So I guess this whole post is meant to acknowledge I don't mind the music. In fact, I welcome it. It makes me think about people, about my life, about their lives. It's nice. A good way to fall asleep. It'll be a good soundtrack to remember.

She is a Book by Craig Froman

One of these days...I'd love to inspire a poem like this:

She is a breathing book

each night I touch her pages

delicately turn to find

her heart in letters

written by her hand…

Scent of vanilla

soft and sensuous

unveiling another thought

another smiling memory

another intimate piece of her…

And I read with such abandon

across her pages

my fingers trailing

her soft paper skin…

In her sighs

she speaks of

stories and sonnets

history and fantasy

blue skies and silvery silks…

I hear her voice

in the pages

wanting to know her

every line

every word

every letter…

Now I take her into me

share my book with her

until we know

can read each glance

each whisper

each touch…

She is a book

and I love to read her pages…

The Avoidance of Thinking

Why do I think it's important to write? Why do I think it matters at all to post on this blog that has gone untouched for almost a  year? Because I'm tired of not thinking. And when you write, you're forced to think. It's unavoidable. It's necessary for progress. It's how we come to understand ourselves. Yet we avoid it by filling our time with menial tasks and time wasters always excusing us from having to pen a single word or own up to a single thought. I have found myself retreating into the labyrinth of television and useless books, always saying "I'll get to it later, when I'm not so tired or busy or lazy". It's sickening to think of all the time I've wasted staring mindlessly at a screen giving no validity or time to the thoughts I think or the feelings I feel. I'm running away from reality and the difficulty of dealing with it. Loss, loneliness, love and longing are all easier to deal with when you don't have to think about them. When you just come home on auto pilot and end your night plugged into the world, never taking a moment for a solitary thought or even a smidgen of introspection, life just gets simpler...and less meaningful.  Well I'm done. I'm tired of falsity and shallow, solitary nights. I say that now, but I'll probably end tonight just like the night before. On my computer or my phone surprised when the sun comes up and I didn't do anything I promised myself I would. But I can try. This blog post (going into cyberspace unacknowledged) is a good start at least....

Gratitude

Sometimes I just have to shake my head at myself when I realize how hard I make life on myself. It's so silly that it takes a label on one day of the year like "Thanksgiving" to get me to realize how incredibly blessed I am. How much of a happier person would I be and how much of a happier outlook on life would I have if instead of starting everyday with "what do I have to do" I got out of bed and asked myself "what do I get to do today"? What I realized today, as I was missing loved ones far away and growing closer to the ones I have here and eating delicious food and taking my turn listing all of the things I'm thankful for, is that life is more than our endless "to do" lists. My life is more than the tests I have to take and the papers I have to write and hoops I have to jump through to "get somewhere" in life. I already am somewhere in life. I'm happy and healthy with goals and dreams and the ability to laugh and cry and wonder at the little mystery and miracle that my life is. I feel as though if people didn't wait until Thanksgiving to appreciate their lives then we would have a lot more happy people in the world rather than haggard, busy and depressed people. So take this Thanksgiving Day and make it a habit in your life. All of those bright and wonderful things in your life are more than capable of out shining the darkness as long as you know they are there. So to be trite, carry an attitude of gratitude within your heart, it will amaze how light and happy it feels.

Purposes

Sometimes I feel as though I'm surrounded by thousands of people unaware of the bigger and beautiful thing around them going on called life. People are so consumed with their meaningless conversations and agendas that they let the chatter and noise fill up their souls and they become separated from what the purpose of their existence is. It's not about what your friends are doing this weekend, or the next test you have in class, or that date you so desperately want on Friday. Our purpose is to move with the rhythm of our every day tasks without forgetting our own beat, and the beauty of noticing another's unique beat. It's taking a moment to notice the peace and quiet that is present in the world, but we're just too busy listening to our i-pods or playing our games to notice it. We say we're busy but we always find time to do such purposeless things. I miss the days that when a song came on or someone picked up a guitar we stopped and listened to the transcending power of communication music possesses rather than using it as an excuse to talk louder and longer about the pointless details of our busy lives that we purposely make busy to feel complete. We don't have to be busy and consumed with tasks and to-do lists to find our purpose. We simply need quiet and peace and a mind to contemplate ourselves and our potential and than, our purpose just lines up in our hearts and minds, right alongside our inner peace. 

Underlying Emotions and Adulthood

As teenagers in Junior High and High School we live in a world where the vulnerable emotions of others must be assumed and where nothing is a "given". We all play the guessing game of "who likes who" and tip toe around each other's emotions because there is no way to tell where other's feelings lie. We function like this because we are not yet "adult" enough to present and calmly discuss our emotions no matter how vulnerable those emotions may make us. When we reach adulthood it is assumed that everyone's emotions are taken care of because we are mature enough to take care of them ourselves; leaving no excuse for drama or conflict because you are expected to "speak up" if you had a problem in the first place. So based on this adult-like assumption we must go through our adulthood thinking that no one has any emotion except for the ones they convey through their adult words because that is the adult thing to do. But I feel, in my life and the people in my life, that being "adult" has become an excuse to leave things unspoken and let the more "adult-like" people be vulnerable and grown up and just leave our emotions where they are; on our heart and on our mind where no one else is privy to them because adults shouldn't have to deal with such juvenile things. But for me, I'd rather have the people in my life come clean about their emotions and not judge me for assuming their emotions existed because it was true. Emotions exist at all points in our lives, adult or not. We must learn to acknowledge those emotions and realize people are going to assume and omit and lie and be hurt, even if we're not teenagers. It's called being human. We feel. So go tell someone how you feel.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

I chanced upon this poem tonight. I love the feeling while you are reading a piece of poetry and each word strums across your heart strings, bringing you into better harmony with yourself, making you grateful those words were written and expressing what you didn't know you were feeling. That's what I felt when I read this poem. Thank you Pablo Neruda, for writing poetry, and bringing people to acknowledge what is in their heart.

If You Forget Me

I want you to know

one thing.

You know how this is:

if I look

at the crystal moon, at the red branch

of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch

near the fire

the impalpable ash

or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats

that sail

toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,

if little by little you stop loving me

I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,

the wind of banners

that passes through my life,

and you decide

to leave me at the shore

of the heart where I have roots,

remember

that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms

and my roots will set off

to seek another land.

But

if each day,

each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me

with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower

climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms

without leaving mine