Are you sitting comfortably? Are you breathing easily?
Do the corners of your mouth tilt upwards in the day?
Do you have something to hold on to? Something to which you are attached?
Are you close to anyone else? Are you happy? Are you loved?
Think of how quickly, how easily that can change. Dream it, fear it. Act cautiously and think clearly. Defy the possibility, do not allow it to happen. Tread carefully. It could be days away, it could be years. But fight against it. Beat the unseen and you will be commended.
Have you been told that you're good to talk to? That you listen well? That you're input is rational, good? That you're helpful? Nice to be around? Remember that what one person says is not true for everyone.
May 30, 2011
May 18, 2011
Sometimes We Must Fight As Fangirls
mcfangirl:
As many of you know there’s an appeal going around to get Catherine Tate and David Tennant’s production of Much Ado About Nothing onto DVD for posterity but also because, quite frankly, many, many fans of both actors will never get a chance to see this amazing production.
The lovely folks at Illuminations, who were involved with Tennant’s Hamlet DVD, have informed me that the appeal for the Hamlet DVD grossed approximately 7, 500 signatures which clearly made all the difference in the world and helped give us Hamlet on DVD.
I urge you to please sign the Much Ado appeal HERE and reblog or pass on the url to other Catherine Tate and/or David Tennant fans. We are currently at 5, 700ish signatures and it would be awesome if we could get at least the 7, 500 or so that Hamlet got. Thanks!
UPDATE: According to @_ophelia, Hamlet received a total of 7, 892. COME ON!
May 14, 2011
Do you ever wonder why people, as some sort of rule, don't just go up to others and tell them when they're being absolutely horrible or annoying?
I can't think of anyone who doesn't do it. I certainly do it. But even being among the many people who do, I can't justify it. I can't understand it.
When someone says something offensive or hurtful the first time, we let it slide. We make excuses for them and push it out of our minds. The second time we don't even think to remember the first time, so we push it aside again. The third time we may start to keep a tally, but by that point it doesn't even matter anymore. We've gone mute on the matter and won't be tempted to bring it up. Eventually our excuses for them will stop all together, but we still won't talk to them about it until one day we get very angry.
It doesn't even really matter what we're angry about. It could be another thing done by them, one last straw, or it could have been prompted by someone entirely different. But when we see them, and we're so angry, we just let loose the list we've been silently tallying. We never meant to bring it up like this. We were hoping that, somehow, the perfect time would come up and everything would go over so very smoothly. But scenes like that don't just happen, and once we become mute we never try to create a decent time to explain our concerns.
It comes out rash, harsh, offensive. We can't help it, we're just so angry. We don't think how hard this must be for the person on the receiving end because it feels so good to just let it out.
More often than not, I'm not on the receiving end. I refuse to acknowledge something as hurtful until months later when the accumulation of things from one person is ridiculous. Then, at the tipping point, I feel rage, because rage is so easy to feel.
It doesn't make sense. This is no way for things to really resolve. Not until quite some time after it, at least. But then why are so many of us guilty of it? We're supposed to be such an advanced species, but when you think about it, the only thing that makes us different from other mammals is an opposable thumb and the ability to build walls and pretend that we don't rely on nature. We're still just as vicious as lions.
I can't think of anyone who doesn't do it. I certainly do it. But even being among the many people who do, I can't justify it. I can't understand it.
When someone says something offensive or hurtful the first time, we let it slide. We make excuses for them and push it out of our minds. The second time we don't even think to remember the first time, so we push it aside again. The third time we may start to keep a tally, but by that point it doesn't even matter anymore. We've gone mute on the matter and won't be tempted to bring it up. Eventually our excuses for them will stop all together, but we still won't talk to them about it until one day we get very angry.
It doesn't even really matter what we're angry about. It could be another thing done by them, one last straw, or it could have been prompted by someone entirely different. But when we see them, and we're so angry, we just let loose the list we've been silently tallying. We never meant to bring it up like this. We were hoping that, somehow, the perfect time would come up and everything would go over so very smoothly. But scenes like that don't just happen, and once we become mute we never try to create a decent time to explain our concerns.
It comes out rash, harsh, offensive. We can't help it, we're just so angry. We don't think how hard this must be for the person on the receiving end because it feels so good to just let it out.
More often than not, I'm not on the receiving end. I refuse to acknowledge something as hurtful until months later when the accumulation of things from one person is ridiculous. Then, at the tipping point, I feel rage, because rage is so easy to feel.
It doesn't make sense. This is no way for things to really resolve. Not until quite some time after it, at least. But then why are so many of us guilty of it? We're supposed to be such an advanced species, but when you think about it, the only thing that makes us different from other mammals is an opposable thumb and the ability to build walls and pretend that we don't rely on nature. We're still just as vicious as lions.
May 6, 2011
I'm a failure at comforting people. I wonder how people who are good at comforting others can even exist. Sure, I know they must, but I don't know any. I like that I don't know any, though, because I don't think I would be able to fully appreciate them. Instead I have friends like Sarah who looked pained when they see me even slightly less than happy--friends that submit themselves to the censure of others to attempt to help. They fail, but they make the sort of gestures that you read about in books. They're, in some way, to me, legendary.
But, for me, the greatest comfort I have is still my best friend's presence. I, however, am often too harsh to have the same effect on others. At the same time, though, I want my friends to know that they are so very significant. Thus, in the hopes that expounding on their importance makes them smile, this is my brand of comfort. Should they ever need it. (Alas, I'm lazy, so I will write only of those I know will see this.)
To Tiffany,
I hope you know how much I detest recording phrases that sound like something that ought to be said in a romantic relationship. That being said, you are quite possibly the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.
I'm not sure who I would be had I not met you, but I have an idea. And I would hate that person. Because without you I would have difficulty forming my own opinion on something. I would be lost, as I was before I met you, as the one kid in Sunday school that questioned everything being taught to the point of angering the teacher and inspiring hatred. I would still be that kid that had difficulty believing much of anything, but that was incapable of breaking out and creating my own beliefs. In more than just religion, I would have no proper stance.
Had I not met you I would not be intelligent. Granted, even now I am too lazy. I dropped Italian just before I could have gotten college credit for it and I practically threw away this year. But I'm not daft. I still keep changing any plans for the future. How many different jobs have I decided on? And now I'm most likely changing my major to Chemistry as well. But I can actually debate these paths, because I've not done so poorly that I'm confined to some trade.
I know, it's rather ridiculous to claim that one person could alter the intelligence of another so greatly. But I fully believe that this is true. Before I met you I needed to see an ESOL teacher, not that it was particularly effective. Younger I was even more an Introvert than I am now--I would scarcely talk to even Darryl and when I was learning basic English from family I always had to be told to respond out loud, or louder. Two other kids went with me to see the ESOL teacher, and, due to a mix of introversion and the fact that I could never grasp what see was teaching us, I always let them answer.
Somewhere inbetween that and third grade I met you and Michelle taught me to read. And in third grade I was trying harder. I still remember the day Mrs. Cacicia decided to move me to the higher level reading group. She scolded the others in my original group for always relying on me to answer questions and then took me aside and offered to move me up. I was elated. Now, rather than watching your reading group when I should have been working, I would actually be with you. Even then, being with you meant I was more comfortable. Even then I knew you were important to me.
The next time reading groups met she scolded me for relying on others to answer questions. Also, as the first reading group, we were expected to answer the questions more quickly and return the books for the next group. She took my book before I was done because it was needed. Already she was debating sending me back. And from that day I've always worked so much harder.
You see, even so long ago you were my motivation and my inspiration. Did you ever wonder why so much of what I write so obviously links to you? Your presence has always been a comfort to me. With you, it's safe to try foreign foods. Only provided the safety of your presence have I done some incredibly extroverted things and have I talked to certain strangers.
You have a superiority complex and are hopelessly insufferable. You're a snob and have a way to make others feel excluded, negligible, and forgotten. You enrage me when you, often without realizing it, insult my intelligence or belittle my opinions and experiences. But you are, without argument, one of the most important people in my life. And, I don't care who may lead you to doubt your worth or significance, those who do are fools.
To Sarah,
You are not the only person who fears that the accumulation of her actions leaves her repulsive to others. You are not the only person who fears that she has lost the chance to have someone that cares about her in her life. But that doesn't mean that your worries are insignificant.
If I've learned anything from you, it's that my smile is brighter than the sun. But, to me, that sentence means more than that my face can appear attractive when I smile. That sentence tells me that I'm not insignificant and that I have the ability to brighten your day. Most importantly, that sentence tells me that you are not a schmuck.
You find people that you care about and then you give them an exorbitant about of power. You may not be the friend sought by all, but you're the friend that is remembered in almost every decent piece of literature ever written: you expose yourself to censure and humiliation for your friends; you keep people in contact over long vacations; you're unorthodox and you make others smile.
Given that, how can you not be proud of yourself? Who could you claim is a better person that you?
To Meg,
Currently, I am debating whether or not I should dislike you for the terrifying prospects of the redhead fetish you've explained to me. But, even when I decide that I shall hate you, I never really will.
Who could hate a friend that is almost always determined to make others feel better? You bake something for everyone countless times a year and you never refuse to let one of us burrow into your shoulder. Perhaps these traits are common amongst friends, but our group of friends is so often awkward about any sort of physical contact. Under those conditions, that you have practically given up ownership of your shoulder seems like something worthy of recognition, if not some high prize.
You say some terrifying things, it's true. (Such as the aforementioned redhead fetish.) But I've finally said something that terrifies you just as you have terrified me. And even if I hadn't, you never really aim to scar me mentally. So often what you say is laced with the brand of sarcasm and humor without which I would be hopelessly forlorn. Even when you say terrifying things, I end up responding with laughter.
You're the sort of friend that could easily be taken for granted because you are, incontrovertibly wonderful.
But, for me, the greatest comfort I have is still my best friend's presence. I, however, am often too harsh to have the same effect on others. At the same time, though, I want my friends to know that they are so very significant. Thus, in the hopes that expounding on their importance makes them smile, this is my brand of comfort. Should they ever need it. (Alas, I'm lazy, so I will write only of those I know will see this.)
To Tiffany,
I hope you know how much I detest recording phrases that sound like something that ought to be said in a romantic relationship. That being said, you are quite possibly the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.
I'm not sure who I would be had I not met you, but I have an idea. And I would hate that person. Because without you I would have difficulty forming my own opinion on something. I would be lost, as I was before I met you, as the one kid in Sunday school that questioned everything being taught to the point of angering the teacher and inspiring hatred. I would still be that kid that had difficulty believing much of anything, but that was incapable of breaking out and creating my own beliefs. In more than just religion, I would have no proper stance.
Had I not met you I would not be intelligent. Granted, even now I am too lazy. I dropped Italian just before I could have gotten college credit for it and I practically threw away this year. But I'm not daft. I still keep changing any plans for the future. How many different jobs have I decided on? And now I'm most likely changing my major to Chemistry as well. But I can actually debate these paths, because I've not done so poorly that I'm confined to some trade.
I know, it's rather ridiculous to claim that one person could alter the intelligence of another so greatly. But I fully believe that this is true. Before I met you I needed to see an ESOL teacher, not that it was particularly effective. Younger I was even more an Introvert than I am now--I would scarcely talk to even Darryl and when I was learning basic English from family I always had to be told to respond out loud, or louder. Two other kids went with me to see the ESOL teacher, and, due to a mix of introversion and the fact that I could never grasp what see was teaching us, I always let them answer.
Somewhere inbetween that and third grade I met you and Michelle taught me to read. And in third grade I was trying harder. I still remember the day Mrs. Cacicia decided to move me to the higher level reading group. She scolded the others in my original group for always relying on me to answer questions and then took me aside and offered to move me up. I was elated. Now, rather than watching your reading group when I should have been working, I would actually be with you. Even then, being with you meant I was more comfortable. Even then I knew you were important to me.
The next time reading groups met she scolded me for relying on others to answer questions. Also, as the first reading group, we were expected to answer the questions more quickly and return the books for the next group. She took my book before I was done because it was needed. Already she was debating sending me back. And from that day I've always worked so much harder.
You see, even so long ago you were my motivation and my inspiration. Did you ever wonder why so much of what I write so obviously links to you? Your presence has always been a comfort to me. With you, it's safe to try foreign foods. Only provided the safety of your presence have I done some incredibly extroverted things and have I talked to certain strangers.
You have a superiority complex and are hopelessly insufferable. You're a snob and have a way to make others feel excluded, negligible, and forgotten. You enrage me when you, often without realizing it, insult my intelligence or belittle my opinions and experiences. But you are, without argument, one of the most important people in my life. And, I don't care who may lead you to doubt your worth or significance, those who do are fools.
To Sarah,
You are not the only person who fears that the accumulation of her actions leaves her repulsive to others. You are not the only person who fears that she has lost the chance to have someone that cares about her in her life. But that doesn't mean that your worries are insignificant.
If I've learned anything from you, it's that my smile is brighter than the sun. But, to me, that sentence means more than that my face can appear attractive when I smile. That sentence tells me that I'm not insignificant and that I have the ability to brighten your day. Most importantly, that sentence tells me that you are not a schmuck.
You find people that you care about and then you give them an exorbitant about of power. You may not be the friend sought by all, but you're the friend that is remembered in almost every decent piece of literature ever written: you expose yourself to censure and humiliation for your friends; you keep people in contact over long vacations; you're unorthodox and you make others smile.
Given that, how can you not be proud of yourself? Who could you claim is a better person that you?
To Meg,
Currently, I am debating whether or not I should dislike you for the terrifying prospects of the redhead fetish you've explained to me. But, even when I decide that I shall hate you, I never really will.
Who could hate a friend that is almost always determined to make others feel better? You bake something for everyone countless times a year and you never refuse to let one of us burrow into your shoulder. Perhaps these traits are common amongst friends, but our group of friends is so often awkward about any sort of physical contact. Under those conditions, that you have practically given up ownership of your shoulder seems like something worthy of recognition, if not some high prize.
You say some terrifying things, it's true. (Such as the aforementioned redhead fetish.) But I've finally said something that terrifies you just as you have terrified me. And even if I hadn't, you never really aim to scar me mentally. So often what you say is laced with the brand of sarcasm and humor without which I would be hopelessly forlorn. Even when you say terrifying things, I end up responding with laughter.
You're the sort of friend that could easily be taken for granted because you are, incontrovertibly wonderful.
May 5, 2011
Who are you?
I like who I am.
I'm a bit of a mess. I procrastinate too much and have taken the lazy route a few too many times. I have yet to discover what I ought to do in life or what I want from this existence. I'm confused about having spent a large portion of my life enamored with English only to discover that it's a disgusting joke beyond eleventh grade education. I'm often crass and judgmental, not to mention quick to rage.
But I am proud of who I am. I refuse to lie. I have good morals and I know what is important to me. And I'm intelligent. I may not be comparable to my valedictorian and salutatorian, but I am not daft. I will not be limited to a certain trade or low wage job in the future. While I may not know what I want to do, I know that I truly am not limited.
I am not the sort to wear a pink thong with a white dress. I am not the person from whom you would expect thievery or deceit.
I say this because we all have so many chances to be someone else. If we had not met this person or if we had not visited that place. . . I don't know how many different people I could be. I only know who I am now, but I can imagine the sort of person I would be without having met my best friend. Maybe you can too?
I could so easily have been the sort of person I hate. I could so easily have stopped caring when I wasn't at the top of my class, when I needed a speech teacher and still couldn't read. I could still be mindlessly following a belief system without bothering to sort out my own opinions and beliefs. I could even be whorish.
I am who I am primarily because of my best friend.
Who molded you? Do you even know anymore? And if it had been someone else, do you think you'd like who you became?
I'm a bit of a mess. I procrastinate too much and have taken the lazy route a few too many times. I have yet to discover what I ought to do in life or what I want from this existence. I'm confused about having spent a large portion of my life enamored with English only to discover that it's a disgusting joke beyond eleventh grade education. I'm often crass and judgmental, not to mention quick to rage.
But I am proud of who I am. I refuse to lie. I have good morals and I know what is important to me. And I'm intelligent. I may not be comparable to my valedictorian and salutatorian, but I am not daft. I will not be limited to a certain trade or low wage job in the future. While I may not know what I want to do, I know that I truly am not limited.
I am not the sort to wear a pink thong with a white dress. I am not the person from whom you would expect thievery or deceit.
I say this because we all have so many chances to be someone else. If we had not met this person or if we had not visited that place. . . I don't know how many different people I could be. I only know who I am now, but I can imagine the sort of person I would be without having met my best friend. Maybe you can too?
I could so easily have been the sort of person I hate. I could so easily have stopped caring when I wasn't at the top of my class, when I needed a speech teacher and still couldn't read. I could still be mindlessly following a belief system without bothering to sort out my own opinions and beliefs. I could even be whorish.
I am who I am primarily because of my best friend.
Who molded you? Do you even know anymore? And if it had been someone else, do you think you'd like who you became?
May 4, 2011
Translucent Skin
You can not decipher what you hear,
But if you only try to see through me
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
When the world is a gallery of all you fear,
Though you listen close to everyone you see,
You can not decipher what you hear.
But when you are trying desperaately to stear
And I am the only hope you see,
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
When you scorn all that I find dear
And it is explained that nothing is consequence free,
You can not decipher what you hear.
But when everyone around you will sneer
And you wish to crawl into the shadow of a tree,
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
You may separate yourself from another's cheer,
But when you are lost at sea;
You can not decipher what you hear,
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
I need to find more inspiration. Lately when I'm bored I waste prescious paper in my moleskine. Not to mention the vast amount of graphite required to shade in various shapes and squiggles. It's fun though. Curse the influence of Sarah. (But she flirts with me, so she isn't to blame. She brings joy.)
But if you only try to see through me
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
When the world is a gallery of all you fear,
Though you listen close to everyone you see,
You can not decipher what you hear.
But when you are trying desperaately to stear
And I am the only hope you see,
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
When you scorn all that I find dear
And it is explained that nothing is consequence free,
You can not decipher what you hear.
But when everyone around you will sneer
And you wish to crawl into the shadow of a tree,
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
You may separate yourself from another's cheer,
But when you are lost at sea;
You can not decipher what you hear,
I will wear translucent skin for you there.
I need to find more inspiration. Lately when I'm bored I waste prescious paper in my moleskine. Not to mention the vast amount of graphite required to shade in various shapes and squiggles. It's fun though. Curse the influence of Sarah. (But she flirts with me, so she isn't to blame. She brings joy.)
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