Resurrection Fern

In the presence of Iron and Wine, with nothing but an unnervingly-demure crowd, and cough drops, your thoughts are louder than your mouth can ever hope to be. There has never been anything quite so captivating for me, or so annoyingly placed. When your mind has a lot to mull over, and you’re presented with nothing but time, you think.

Earlier this year, I wrote something about the beginnings of what I deemed the Great Senior Divide, with hopes that what I was glimpsing then would soon subside and what we all knew of normalcy would soon return. The sad truth of it, though, happened a lot like not-knocking-on-wood does for me. When I acknowledged the weird, engaged with the different, it just illuminated itself, and got worse. This past month has been a prime example of what happens when true colors show. Actually, I’m not even sure “this” is what happens when people are themselves because I’ve lose any and all desire to uncover layers of people--there are sometimes just too many. You discover too many faces, you then lose all desire, and with that, all motivation behind getting to their core--in fact, I’ve lost belief in the existence of cores, for some.

I think I expect too much all together. I keep getting reminded that what I have is not normal; which I’m aware of, but I guess the reminders are to keep the full gravity of my abnormal in check. I think I expect people around me, those I associate with, whether or not they’re “my people,” to ethically respond within certain boundaries towards certain situations--and admit to certain wrongs when they wrong. When they don’t, and nothing holds them to it, when nothing binds them--why can’t I?

So surrounded by an ocean of sound, I remembered. Because I am not this. I am not this overwhelming noise that can carry you. I am just a girl in the world. While I don’t agree with what you’ve done, and know one day, somehow something will justly right you, and isolate you in your amoral path, I am nothing more than a single sound. My morals are nothing more than simply mine. And what I feel is ethically right, cannot be forced upon you.

So even if in the middle of a beautiful thing you find you have a horrible cough, it's okay. We have cough drops. Close your eyes. They're designed to sooth your throat--you just have to be patient enough to let them work.

A Disclaimer for The Wavering Mind -- Part I

"I think that I is the only word in your vocabulary tonight."

Let me tell you all about it-- if you listen it seems to be all you hear. If you tell a story, if you say anything, to anyone, the response is increasingly (disappointingly) solely about the person responding. Understandably we speak from personal experience, and in order to get on a personal level with another person we share experience--but there are limits we can exceed, selfless boundaries we can ignore. So all we need to do is listen.

Recently I have began consciously noting every time it seemed "I was the only word" in someone's vocabulary. The numbers are astounding. So rather than dwelling on the numbers and never getting over what I found disgusting--I wanted to figure how how we got to this point.

I have come to a few different conclusions, one however, has struck me as most probable: Self identifying issues are huge. If you're not comfortable with who you are no one ever will be; how you inwardly feel about yourself is reflected outwardly, no matter how hard you try to contain it. The reflection is not necessarily performed in any melodramatic sweeping display, either, it can be displayed in simple mannerisms; it can go undetected if people don't know what to look for, or rather how to look. Regardless a reflection is apparent. So if you have issues with your person, people who know what they're looking for, know.

If you feel like you're worth something, but it's not any type of worth people can easily see from your surface, don't you think I would be a frequently used word in your vocabulary?

Nowadays-instant-gratification is an indication for what type of character traits people think they need to possess: blindly misleading, but blindly controlling. So back to my point--those friends we have, the ones who no matter what you tell them, manage to pull it back to themselves--they're the friends that I'm not sure we can blame for only having I in their vocabulary. I think they are just trying to remember who they are, and what they stand for. I think it is not the people around them they are reassuring of their worth, but themselves.

While their process is destructive, and I'm sure along their paths they've lost many, and have many more friends to lose...I have faith they will find their way.

I found mine.

the downpour

I think it's the constant downpour that has been the perpetuating force behind my recent thoughts lately, so like the persistence of the rain, I've been analyzing everything.

Not that I don't normally suffer from chronically over-analyzing every situation, it's just recently it hasn't been so painful, or so over-analytical. It's actually been productive, and I think I'm finally defining categories in my head; finally sifting through what I've set aside for what seems like too long. 

It's really hard to function within any standards of "normal" when you know everything you've ever known is about to change. I keep thinking back to the senior class last year, and can't help but relate to their angst, their anticipation. I was told right before your universe explodes it becomes microscopic, every little thing becomes magnified, distorted. Does that explain all the underlying currents? The unspoken words, and different vibes? Microscopic worlds? Maybe. It's hard to wake up and follow the same pattern (though it's somewhat flexible, it's still relatively a regimented pattern) without questioning what it will feel like to wake up with different walls. 

Only recently (recently being within the last two hours) have I managed to drag my feet through four years of mental build-up. I can't say I feel any different, I am not sad, nor am I angry, I just feel accomplished. I have been missing home, and been unable to place one for myself. I still don't know where my home is, or if there even is a where for that matter, but I don't need to know where my home is. I had been holding onto my past for too long, and holding people accountable for voids they shouldn't have to fill. 

I guess we know we're fooling ourselves when it's our words reassuring us of another's, and not theirs. It makes perfect sense to me, I'm just surprised it took me this long to finally come to terms with. 

So I've come to terms with change now, I accept it. I don't have to like it, but I have to be able to live with it... at least adjust to it when it occurs. I think I will be okay. Despite the fact I've finally found my family, and it feels like I'm going to lose them, I think it will be okay. I know I won't lose anyone. Part of my four-year-mind-sifting-drudgery was placing people into categories. I had help developing these one night on my dock, with quite unexpected company but came up with three different groups: 

(1) there will always be people in life who will grow you--people who are highly influential, short-lived, but never forgotten. 

(2) Then, there are the people you grow with--these are the people who are not necessarily like you, but equal in other senses, people who are experiencing life with you, taking in new things by your side, not behind or ahead of you.

(3) And last, the people you will grow--this is basically the inverse of people who have grown you. You become the highly influential person for someone else, and while you may not learn much from them, or take away anything life-changing from your relationship with them, it was still necessary, they still needed you. 

and so the cycle will continue.