Instincts are misleading. You shouldn't think what you're feeling. Thankfully, I don't. The problem about knowing that your cerebral "notes" are different than your emotional ones is that reconciling the distinction means you won't always get what you want. A few weeks ago, I began to notice that I was happy. Really happy. Be it the work I was involved in, the company I was keeping, the truth that was preaching itself to me. Today, I am different. Today, I am severely tired. Tired of knowing and not knowing. But, no matter. Perhaps there is some exquisite pleasure in waiting to have, because the knowing takes time. Anticipation requires a journey to arrive at the destination of choice, and if you do make it to the destination...You will have hoped and waited. And it will feel quite real.
"And if it ends, let it go down in flames." - Dashboard Confessional
This link gave me something to think about. (See if you can figure out why...That's not the point of Babette.)
http://radiofreesilverlake.blogspot.com
Monday, October 27, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
If you could become something else...
I want to
I want to be someone else or I'll explode
Floating upon this surface for the birds
The birds
The birds
- "Talk Show Host", by Radiohead
Have you ever had the urge to change your spots? If I was born a cheetah, I would have wished to be a leopard. I think it is in my nature to choose a distinction. I live in a beautiful condo by the coast of Newport with two beautiful, sweet girls, each with such distinctions in their character as not to deprive me of anything less than such energy and optimism each day. Sometimes the days go by and go by, yet I feel it is passing me by, not lifting me up. Given so much by so many – smiles as I walk by my desk in the office, gifts of mercy for things I’ve said or done wrong, a joke well-received instead of raised eyebrows, a piece of laughter for a chance to see the ocean and a trip on the sidewalk, and a call from a favorite friend. All this and more is mine to absorb, to behold. An observation or two gives me great pleasure. This is life. Yet, somehow I am still reaching. Always reaching to do something big. Bigger than what I already am. So, I stretch myself thing. But if I’m not someone else, I just might break into fragments. Like a glass you drop carelessly on the floor. One sensitive, delicate drop of a fragile cup and the glass shatters. The pieces are small, are jagged, have sharp edges, sometimes round, yet each piece can’t be simply placed back together to form one glass once more. Each piece is now apart. So, this is me. Or, what I could be, if I don’t find a way to keep myself together. In the meantime, I yearn to be a leopard. I could be fast like a cheetah, but I’d still want to be graceful like that species I am not. I may never be. But the insatiable quest to stand out. It will never die. I want to be someone else or I’ll explode.
I want to be someone else or I'll explode
Floating upon this surface for the birds
The birds
The birds
- "Talk Show Host", by Radiohead
Have you ever had the urge to change your spots? If I was born a cheetah, I would have wished to be a leopard. I think it is in my nature to choose a distinction. I live in a beautiful condo by the coast of Newport with two beautiful, sweet girls, each with such distinctions in their character as not to deprive me of anything less than such energy and optimism each day. Sometimes the days go by and go by, yet I feel it is passing me by, not lifting me up. Given so much by so many – smiles as I walk by my desk in the office, gifts of mercy for things I’ve said or done wrong, a joke well-received instead of raised eyebrows, a piece of laughter for a chance to see the ocean and a trip on the sidewalk, and a call from a favorite friend. All this and more is mine to absorb, to behold. An observation or two gives me great pleasure. This is life. Yet, somehow I am still reaching. Always reaching to do something big. Bigger than what I already am. So, I stretch myself thing. But if I’m not someone else, I just might break into fragments. Like a glass you drop carelessly on the floor. One sensitive, delicate drop of a fragile cup and the glass shatters. The pieces are small, are jagged, have sharp edges, sometimes round, yet each piece can’t be simply placed back together to form one glass once more. Each piece is now apart. So, this is me. Or, what I could be, if I don’t find a way to keep myself together. In the meantime, I yearn to be a leopard. I could be fast like a cheetah, but I’d still want to be graceful like that species I am not. I may never be. But the insatiable quest to stand out. It will never die. I want to be someone else or I’ll explode.
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