Monday, May 9, 2011

be human

You can't force yourself to be happy. You can't force yourself to be pure.
You can live mindfully. But what is anything else? You're only fooling yourself.
Be you. Make mistakes. Have a bad day and know that good days will follow and bad days will follow. Know that this is what it is to live.
I can't stand forced smiles, skin scrubbed raw and pink, bandaged bruises. I just want to see and to let others see me.
Break out of the system. Make a run for it. Life is too short to stay stifled under too much control.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

too much free time makes sarah a dull girl

When I'm busy during the school semester, I fantasize about having oodles of free time to read, make art, sit outside in the sun, watch movies, write. But once I have free time, especially if I'm at home, I go braindead and end up plopped in front of the television eating entire boxes of Wheat Thins and watching marathons of The Real Housewives of Orange County. not ideal. I feel so restless, but I need to enjoy the remainder of my free time before my summer plans kick in. View this - this getaway, this little country house that perpetually smells of cats and cigarette smoke - as a nice vacation.
I don't mean to speak badly of my childhood home. I really love it. No place makes me feel as relaxed. Or as insane, for that matter.
You know, I think we - members of modern day society, especially in the U.S. - are so conditioned to be satisfied only when feel we are being "productive" and "reaching our potential," a potential usually defined by unattainable societal standards. It's kind of sad we can't just pull a Thoreau and enjoy the sunset a little more often.
Something else I've been pondering: I think we all play different roles in our lives depending on where we are and who we're with. I act much more open, much crazier, at home than I would when I'm at my apartment. It's almost liberating. But I also sink much lower once I'm in a bad mood, I think because old thought patterns and negative associations inevitably surface (again, not to badmouth my lovely home or the people associated with it). The first few days I'm back, I feel more talkative and maybe a little more "mature," whatever that means, which might be my "alternate" school persona trickling in. Then I'm happy and carefree and my usual crazy self (crude jokes, strange noises/impersonations, whatever). Also, I'm much, much more direct with my family about things than I am with anyone else, and I wish I could transfer that directness to all my relationships. After happy comes...stagnant. The rut. Which tells me something I've known a while: I need to be away from here in order to grow.
Hopefully I can learn how to be me, 100%, in all situations. Because really, any shifts that occur are just in my mental state as it responds to my environment. What role do I play here? What role do I play there? What do people expect of me? What should I expect of myself?
Oh, the impossibilities of true authenticity! (I could write a poem.)

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

a fresh start

So, I had posts dating back to about a year ago, maybe even earlier than that. But I think I'm ready to say goodbye to the past, so I deleted all of them in hopes that their absence might inspire me to start fresh and update more regularly.
I've always had trouble with blogging. I've been journaling since I first learned how to write - in fact I have a huge load of them in bins in my closet - but I'm never sure what to write about once my personal journaling becomes public. Inevitably this strips away some of the personal aspects. What does that leave? Entertainment only? Should I just post pictures and recipes and clever anecdotes? I think the blogs that become truly successful are the ones that develop a clear, unique, appealing identity and maintain it. I'm not sure if I have the capacity or drive to do that.
But, here I am, again. I could tell you what I'm reading (Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang) or what I made for dinner (cheese grits with swiss chard and garbanzo beans. Sounds fancy, but it's totally not, and also I am by no means a cook) or where I am (home, temporarily until my internship starts. Parents can be frustrating, but being here is so utterly calming, for the most part. I wonder when "home" will become a place other than the house I grew up in) or what I'm listening to (White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes) or what I'm drinking (tap water) or how I'm feeling (content, maybe a little restless. Deeper, though? How deep can we go on a blog? This is why I'd rather write a shitty, obscure poem that can hide away in my documents forever), but why does anyone care?
Because, I suppose, we all like to feel connected. So here's my blog, not so snazzy and not so insightful, but I'll do what I can. Or what I want.