i have a dream....

That speeches do not exist.
Nah, but really.
I'm not a speech person. It's about as simple as that.

In my mind, 'speeches' and 'boring' are interchangeable words.

I can think of only political speeches, which to me are essentially pointless, or rallying speeches by the likes of Martin Luther King JR. I wouldn't go so far as to say that his 'I have a dream' speech is particularly boring, but at the same time, I don't go out of my way to car about it. I wasn't there. It doesn't bother me. Even just thinking about this topic irritates me. I am bored typing this very sentence.

I considered writing about Tiger Woods's speech after all his controversy came to the public eye, and poking fun at him. But even such a sexually charged story bores me, which clearly indicates that this topic is not made for me.

My apologies.

brother, where art thou?

June. There he stands,

his bare feet slightly emerged in the gravel driveway,

platinum blonde hair messy and pouring over his forehead.

His eyes straight at the camera, his smile crooked.

Freckles scattered over his cheeks,

an over-sized tshirt hanging nearly to his knees,

which are covered with scabs.

His skin is covered in the dirt of the earth.

He seems to exude happiness,

even in the form of a picture. His hands,

they are empty, but look like hands

meant to be full. I stare at this picture now,

and I wonder, where did this boy go?

technology slavery

I like to think of myself as someone who is not necessarily attached to technology, but there are studies that prove that I am not alone in thinking this. But the facts prove it: we're all online. When it comes to all forms of addictive behavior, no one individual thinks of themselves as being personally addicted. We find it very easy to see that others are, and can easily recognize the signs of it. But not in ourselves. I suppose I am one of those people. I enjoy my cell phone. Not the device itself, because it's a basically prehistoric hunk of brick that is the bain of my existence. But I like texting. I like being connected, wherever I am. I enjoy the ability to converse at all times. I have found myself wondering, what would life be like without this? While it is a tool of epic convenience, it is also something of a figurative ball and chain. What about the times you don't want to be found? Or the times when you're reading, or having a deep conversation with a friend? Buzz, buzz, buzz. Your phone vibrates, your concentration is lost. You can't even concentrate on things the same as you used to. Our brains are on a constant multitask, because even if we are just sitting and reading, our phone is also on our lap active in multiple conversations at a time. We're sharing our brain too much, when sometimes it just needs to be focused on a single, individual task. It's not fair, really, to any of the things we're doing – our conversation gets only a part of us, our book only gets partially ingested, our television shows only half way seen. It's something that has come a part of our culture so fast, and already seems nearly impossible to imagine without. The idea of not having texting when I want to meet up with someone, of having to actually call them, it seems so very tedious. Why would I want that when it's so much easier to....buzz, buzz, buzz. What was I saying?

I've had assignments like this in classes in highschool and I've always enjoyed them. Looking around the room, I always feel almost peevishly superior to everyone who looks a little white-knuckled at the idea of shutting off their phone for – gasp – an entire day. Then again, I chose an alternate piece of technological equipment, so I am no better. Since I don't watch television anyway, I gave up facebook for the project. Oh, facebook. The cultural phenomenon. How did you even make friends without it? It seems, now, the natural way to break through being acquaintances with someone to actually being their friend. See that cute guy in class, want to know more about him? It's as easy as figuring out his last name and internet stalking him. Even the word 'stalking' has lost its most negative connotations, and now merely means a friendly page viewing. This fills me with dread at the future of human communications, because it's already gotten this terrible this quickly. What can this mean for our children and grandchildren? What can this mean for US in a decade? Even our language has begun to degenerate to forms of abbreviations and non-words.

My day without facebook goes as follows.

Morning: Wake up, eat. Begin laundry. Sit down and read four chapters of current book (City of Thieves, Benioff). Attend to laundry. Shower.

Afternoon: Eat more cereal. 2^nd load of laundry. Two more chapters of current book. Talk to mom about tattoos. Walk away feeling cantankerous after unsuccessful conversation with mother about tattoos. Go online and check VCU e-mail. Have no email. Hang up laundry. Watch 'The Road'. Buzz buzz buzz. Hide phone under pillow, give undivided attention to movie. Feel disappointed that the movie was not as good as the book. Eat popcorn. Text.

Evening: Six chapters of book. Write soundtrack for FI class. Feel angry that soundtrack is piece of garbage. Re-write soundtrack. Feel equally disgusted. Unable to rewrite. Mind doesn't work. Read two chapters. Look at soundtrack. Buzz buzz buzz. Stare at soundtrack. Accept defeat. Check agenda, do some readings for class. Brush hair. Stare at wall. Listen to song obsessively 12 times in a row. Become bored with song. Eat chicken. Ignore phone call from someone I don't like very much but like too much to tell them I don't like them. Pass out during texting.

As you can easily tell from reading above, my day without facebook clearly lacked nothing. So, I guess the question is: why? Why do I still use it? Why do I care?

As a wise man once said, the things we own end up owning us. I believe this is true for technological services and devices. As someone who carries this knowledge, I am still not free – because I still use the services. The only way to be truly free is to be truly unattached, and yet we are all too scared/lazy/lethargic/bored to care enough. This is the sadness that is our humanity.

my purpose

Why are you here?

I stared at this question, pondering. I wondered if any of my peers had trouble answering this, or if it was as obvious to them as it is to me. Why am I here? I'm here because I want to know. I want knowledge, and I want a massive amount of it. I want knowledge of fine literature running through my veins, I want to be able to talk to strangers in the super market about Freudian theories, I want to be able to sit in a park and read books most people have never heard of.
I suppose, to some extent, the idea of having money and a career have effected my decision to attend college. But mostly, when I think of money in my future, I think of spending it paying off this very education I am receiving, to pay my bills, to pay for a house in which I may sleep, and that's about as far as it goes.
I see life defined more by the things you do in it as opposed to the things you own in it. I have little patience for those who are living their life as a means of getting to a lucrative job that they will most likely despise. It's a cycle many of us can see exemplified by our parents - they spent important years of their lives toiling away in college towards a very boring degree in very boring classes, to spend their lives working at very boring jobs for a very exciting paycheck that they don't have the time or energy to spend in ways that aren't, yes, boring.
What I want to gain from attending college and attaining my degree and (hopefully) my doctorate, is a tangible love and passion for what I'm doing. Material possesions pale in comparison to the richness of knowledge and wisdom I hope to have at the end of my life.

fear

I've come to believe that the one thing you fear the most, is inevitable. Innately, you know it, which is why you fear it so deeply and consumingly. I feared losing the one I loved, despite my pure and deep faith in that love and in our care for one another, and I lost him. It's debatable whether I feared losing him because I knew I would, or if I lost him BECAUSE of that very fear. Then again, it's all the same. Every beginning leads you to the same end one way or another. 


Despite unhappy endings, there is a way of finding joy, always. It just may not be the joy you initially wished for. I'm happy with myself, because I love myself. I have always, and will always, love myself first and foremost. Maybe my arrogance itself is detrimental to my relationships with other people, but when I'm left alone, mourning my losses, it's myself I go to sleep with and myself I wake up to every morning. And how could I NOT make sure to make that relationship the most healthy, the one thriving the most?

Every day I feel myself grow and change. A few months ago, I was not doing that. Sometimes you get so caught up in the present, or the future, or just this meaningless bullshit, that the things that truly do matter get thrown to the side. In my relationship, I was so worked up every day about trivial matters. I ruined the future because I worried so much about it. That's an every day story, isn't it. People don't know how to live. The thing you cherish the most will always be destroyed, and it will always be your fault.

Do I miss you? God, I miss you. And speaking of God, He of anyone knows how much I loved you. Loved? Love. Love is eternal, I agree with you. It's just all in how you live after that love is gone, or how you change your love to go along with the weeks and weeks and months and years alone. There are other fish in the sea. I will go fishing. But I've never really felt much for the fish, a big blue whale ruined it all for me.\
I'm scared. I'm scared that I wont achieve the things I want so terribly. I'm scared I'll never love someone and have them love me back, perfect love and imperfect love all wrapped up together in the greatest little image. It sounds typical, a scorned 18 year old claiming they'll never love again. I just feel like so many things regarding that part of me are up in the air right now. I dont know who I am, 100% yet, do I? I could very well, deep down, be just like my mother. And if I am, I really will never love. I'm scared that my cold-heartedness is something I truly never will get away from. It's deep in me and hidden, but I push people away ridiculously. I seal myself away. And when I didn't, when I truly had faith and gave myself to someone, I was left. Everything, sometimes, is just simply not enough. What a bizzarely mind blowing notion.
The idea of him, you, with someone else, was totally horrible. But at the same time, I didn't mind so much. I feel like somehow, you'll always be a part of me. That means I'll be a part of you, too, somehow. I wish I could have the faith I once had, but I'm afraid that will never happen. Realistically, that's probably for the better.

Why, when you pull away, do they come back? But when you give your all, there's no one to receive it. Fucking humanity

writing with intention

I've struggled to find an adequate way to begin this. These are words I've always wanted to share, and yet, I never have. Not for shame or uncertainty or any such reason. I listen to those around me regularly get into what could be called 'heated' debates regarding their religious belief (or lack thereof). I, however, have never joined in, always just mutely smiling at both sides of the argument. I imagine many people wonder why this is, why is it that though I am always comfortable in asserting my belief, why does my talk end there?

Over time, as anyone could tell you, there are huge shifts in society and culture. Though the core aspects may remain vaguely intact, it's an obvious truth that time changes everything. Religion in the world went from Catholics charging believers a fee to get into heaven, to molesting their altar boys. Religion in our country went from itchy wool clothes early every Sunday morning to contemporary Wednesday night services with electric guitars and coffee cake. Corruption of our culture has removed what could be referred to as the fine layer of decency and unveiled a sort of chaotic, in your face, deviant kind of people. Many would say this is a loss of morality – I see it as more of a loss of concealment. It's not like sin is something new – remember Eve? There's always been sex, and there's always been, as much as your parents like to disagree, drugs (hello, Woodstock?).

How about religions changes, in me? It went from socialization as a child (Sunday school, bible camp) to socialization as a preteen (confirmation classes, youth group, 'mission' trips), to now.

The problem with religion, or I guess more specifically Christianity, is that the message is confusing. We are fed this image of a god that juxtaposes eternal damnation and unconditional love. We are supposed to simultaneously and at all times fear him, thank him, and love him. If I were god, I like to think the people I went through all this trouble to create would totally be stoked on me, not afraid. That's the corporal punishment bullshit into which some parents delve – parents who raise serial killers, or children who become adults that live very far away.

I guess now I should specifiy that I am in fact a believer. I fully, completely, and totally believe. I am a person of faith.

But the question I toy with the most is religion vs spirituality – what is the difference? I consider myself very spiritual, but religion itself baffles me. This is where I believe human/societal corruption has fucked up a good thing. The bible, I think, is great. A great book of stories. But I just can't bring myself to accept that a book written and rewritten by humans could be the “word of god”. Because, after all, humans are the whole problem. We're the ones fucking everything up here.

That is precisely why I dislike discussing my faith. My faith, like any relationship, is personal. It's between me, and God. No one else will “get” it, and they don't need to. Religion isn't a book or a set of fucking guidelines. Religion is looking at your life, the world, and praying to God that there's something out there better than this.

And that somehow, just somehow, there is purpose and meaning in this. In you.

things to do before i die

Bucket List:

1. Get doctorate in psychology.
2. Get into honors college
3. have brown hair, at some point
4. live in an apartment, complete with a kitten
5. have at least 4 tattoos
6. play on another basketball team
7. go to england, stay in england, become english
8. read everything. EVERYthing
9. Learn everything I can about psychology and be knowledgeable about it to the extent I would be able to talk on nearly any related topic for extended periods of time
10. be on jeopardy and win
11. own a car, bought with my own money
12. get muscles, nice small muscles
13. live in a big city that's not in Virginia
14. own my own bookstore in said city and live above it
15. have a very loving and successful marriage
16. go camping and actually like it
17. go vegetarian, if not forever, for a long period of time
18. love
19. visit Tolkien's house and tour it
20. learn to speak another language essentially fluently, a language that is NOT Spanish
21. be friends with my mom
22. write a book
23. learn to do something artistic and be good at it
24. see famous paintings/museums in Europe
25. buy my brother a really nice car
26. go on a “real date”
27. try sushi
28. win in a fight
29. help people who need it
30. be financially stable (but not rich