Come down now, they'll say
I have so much on my mind lately. It seems strange to me that I've been focused on youth, experiences, riot and color, and yet in such a short period of time I'll be expected to be the kind of young lady who wears pantsuits and tasteful jewelry to interviews. Impending adulthood is intimidating, and I cringe every time someone asks me what I'll be doing after college. I know what would be good for me to do, and it comes with a hell of a lot of money. I don't think it will make me happy. But you know what? Bills. Apartment. Life in general. I need to be able to support myself before I can have the career that I want, and so I'm going to have to suck it up, as I am so fond of saying.
I've been burying all of this trepidation under candy-pink gloss. Spun sugar. I feel like two people, each tugging and pulling. There's a me who has deep ties to everything around her, the one who cherishes what she's built. And then there's the me who teeters on the edge of change. Mike asked me why I dyed my hair pink last night. I've been telling everyone that I figured, well-- I'd better do it now, while I've not yet sold my life and desires to corporate America or to the US government. I think it's more than that. I think that more than who I am, my physical appearance reflects the person I want to be. One way or another, I've always done that. The combat boots, the three-inch heels-- marks of someone who's in charge of themselves, who is assertive, confident. Ready to adapt, ready to meet the world head-on. I put them on, they remind me of the me I want to be. This bright fluff on my head, these bright colors represent the person I've forgotten to be all too often. Someone youthful, in the moment, not always set on "in a few months" or "after school," my voice trailing off, nervous and unsure. I forget to be young, sometimes. I forget that. I spend too much time alone because I don't feel like I can relate to anything going on around me on more than some blatantly surface level. The color reminds me not to lose this time, to not cling so tightly to the safe thing. To live a little less constrictedly, bound my "no you can't"s or "what if"s. I'm not tethered to any specific future, and I need to stop living as though I am. Things that I'd thought were so sure are suddenly, well... not so much. And I like that. I like that everything I do is a conscious decision, and not something I feel I'm bound to do by history or by worry.
It's kind of complicated, but I guess it makes sense in my head.
It's snowing. Very lightly, barely flurries, like iridescent glitter falling beneath the jaundiced lampposts. Barely enough to be called a light dusting, but it's the first time all season that snow has stuck at all. I hope it keeps snowing-- it's oddly comforting.
Tomorrow is Dr. Martin Luther King day, and I never know how to feel about that. When I think of all he stood for, I'm immensely grateful that God/Goddess/Gods/Deity-of-choice gave him the gift he did. I firmly, firmly believe that God gave him a purpose, and, like most great visionaries, his flame burnt brightly, demandingly. That great spark has done so much for our country, for people on a very human level. But we still have so far to go, so much deeper understanding to attain. I don't have to look further than my own family to see that. And so, on the 17th of January is always kind of bittersweet for me, even if on the surface, it's just another excuse to sleep in.
I spent my day with acrylic paints, working on handpainted boxes. I've been watching The L Word, and while it's not the best written or acted show I've seen, it is certainly oddly compelling. I'm up to episode 11. The story of Jenny and Tim has startling contrasts to my own relationship, and though such deceit wasn't involved on our end, I find myself startled to tears sometimes. Things that this fictional character has said have spilled from my own lips. I've experienced the same desperation, the same conflictions and the same sense of uncertainty at who I am, at what who I am means for my relationship. Mike and I often watch the show together, and I feel so uncomfortable about it because I'm constantly wondering, "Was he that mad if he's identifying so strongly? Did he hate me like that? Is this putting new fears and doubts and uncertainty into his mind?" It brings up feelings that I'd been trying to bury, but I guess that I have some dealing left to do, yet. I need a little absolution, yet, I think.
I also spent time with Anna this weekend, shopping and making plans for some black-and-white photography. She brought me a little highland sheep plushie from Glasgow, and I think I need to get him a little sword that proclaims, "There Can Be Only ONE!" or something. :) She also brought two absolutely amazing massage bars from LUSH as well, "Each Peach," which I will use in the morning, and "Soft Coeur," which is unimaginably decadent. I thought it was funny, because I also gave her a LUSH bar, as well as some handpicked BPAL, including Old Glasgow, which she confirmed is reminiscent of the city. Combine this with the LUSH order I got that'd been waylaid at my mother's house for two weeks, and I'm positively swimming in LUSH. So that's a plus.
We caught up with the gossip about people we once knew, the people we once were, the exes and the new things in the mix. We went shopping. I actually bought a miniskirt as a splurge, as well as a nice skirt for graduation season. I'm finding that the sheer differentness of the pink is making me more apt to try things I would not ordinarily try, and so there you go. My legs don't look as bad as I'd imagined the'd look. I got some bangs cut into my hair, too, as well as lots of asymmetrical layers. I like them. Mike says that they make me look "punk rock," but I rather think they make me look younger. Maybe it's just my Candyland teeshirt, though, and the fact that I watched Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealers today (I have awesome, amazing, and perfect friends). I'd take pictures, but alas, I need new batteries for my camera.
In conclusion, I leave you with one of my favorite songs. If I had a recent soundtrack to my life, this would be on it. I like to sing to it, but my voice will never be as heartbreaking as Adam Duritz's.
Counting Crows -- Colorblind
I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am taffy-stuck and tongue tied
Stutter-shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am fine
I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded
and unfolded
and unfolding
I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am fine
I've been burying all of this trepidation under candy-pink gloss. Spun sugar. I feel like two people, each tugging and pulling. There's a me who has deep ties to everything around her, the one who cherishes what she's built. And then there's the me who teeters on the edge of change. Mike asked me why I dyed my hair pink last night. I've been telling everyone that I figured, well-- I'd better do it now, while I've not yet sold my life and desires to corporate America or to the US government. I think it's more than that. I think that more than who I am, my physical appearance reflects the person I want to be. One way or another, I've always done that. The combat boots, the three-inch heels-- marks of someone who's in charge of themselves, who is assertive, confident. Ready to adapt, ready to meet the world head-on. I put them on, they remind me of the me I want to be. This bright fluff on my head, these bright colors represent the person I've forgotten to be all too often. Someone youthful, in the moment, not always set on "in a few months" or "after school," my voice trailing off, nervous and unsure. I forget to be young, sometimes. I forget that. I spend too much time alone because I don't feel like I can relate to anything going on around me on more than some blatantly surface level. The color reminds me not to lose this time, to not cling so tightly to the safe thing. To live a little less constrictedly, bound my "no you can't"s or "what if"s. I'm not tethered to any specific future, and I need to stop living as though I am. Things that I'd thought were so sure are suddenly, well... not so much. And I like that. I like that everything I do is a conscious decision, and not something I feel I'm bound to do by history or by worry.
It's kind of complicated, but I guess it makes sense in my head.
It's snowing. Very lightly, barely flurries, like iridescent glitter falling beneath the jaundiced lampposts. Barely enough to be called a light dusting, but it's the first time all season that snow has stuck at all. I hope it keeps snowing-- it's oddly comforting.
Tomorrow is Dr. Martin Luther King day, and I never know how to feel about that. When I think of all he stood for, I'm immensely grateful that God/Goddess/Gods/Deity-of-choice gave him the gift he did. I firmly, firmly believe that God gave him a purpose, and, like most great visionaries, his flame burnt brightly, demandingly. That great spark has done so much for our country, for people on a very human level. But we still have so far to go, so much deeper understanding to attain. I don't have to look further than my own family to see that. And so, on the 17th of January is always kind of bittersweet for me, even if on the surface, it's just another excuse to sleep in.
I spent my day with acrylic paints, working on handpainted boxes. I've been watching The L Word, and while it's not the best written or acted show I've seen, it is certainly oddly compelling. I'm up to episode 11. The story of Jenny and Tim has startling contrasts to my own relationship, and though such deceit wasn't involved on our end, I find myself startled to tears sometimes. Things that this fictional character has said have spilled from my own lips. I've experienced the same desperation, the same conflictions and the same sense of uncertainty at who I am, at what who I am means for my relationship. Mike and I often watch the show together, and I feel so uncomfortable about it because I'm constantly wondering, "Was he that mad if he's identifying so strongly? Did he hate me like that? Is this putting new fears and doubts and uncertainty into his mind?" It brings up feelings that I'd been trying to bury, but I guess that I have some dealing left to do, yet. I need a little absolution, yet, I think.
I also spent time with Anna this weekend, shopping and making plans for some black-and-white photography. She brought me a little highland sheep plushie from Glasgow, and I think I need to get him a little sword that proclaims, "There Can Be Only ONE!" or something. :) She also brought two absolutely amazing massage bars from LUSH as well, "Each Peach," which I will use in the morning, and "Soft Coeur," which is unimaginably decadent. I thought it was funny, because I also gave her a LUSH bar, as well as some handpicked BPAL, including Old Glasgow, which she confirmed is reminiscent of the city. Combine this with the LUSH order I got that'd been waylaid at my mother's house for two weeks, and I'm positively swimming in LUSH. So that's a plus.
We caught up with the gossip about people we once knew, the people we once were, the exes and the new things in the mix. We went shopping. I actually bought a miniskirt as a splurge, as well as a nice skirt for graduation season. I'm finding that the sheer differentness of the pink is making me more apt to try things I would not ordinarily try, and so there you go. My legs don't look as bad as I'd imagined the'd look. I got some bangs cut into my hair, too, as well as lots of asymmetrical layers. I like them. Mike says that they make me look "punk rock," but I rather think they make me look younger. Maybe it's just my Candyland teeshirt, though, and the fact that I watched Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealers today (I have awesome, amazing, and perfect friends). I'd take pictures, but alas, I need new batteries for my camera.
In conclusion, I leave you with one of my favorite songs. If I had a recent soundtrack to my life, this would be on it. I like to sing to it, but my voice will never be as heartbreaking as Adam Duritz's.
Counting Crows -- Colorblind
I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am taffy-stuck and tongue tied
Stutter-shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am fine
I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded
and unfolded
and unfolding
I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am fine