Anyone who knows me will not be surprised by this, but for all of the rest of you, let it be known that I fully admit that I have the potential to procrastinate for an EXCRUCIATINGLY long time.
...and now that I've cleared my inbox, send emails and/or facebook messages to pretty much everyone I know, scoped out some of my college acquaintances' wedding photos, drank my entire cup of coffee, and gone to the bathroom, I am ready to start finishing my paper that was due an embarrassing number of days ago.
FML.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
different time, same place
No one talks about
the chances you didn't take
the things you didn't say
the "wait..." that never came
No one seems to realize
the hesitation is sometimes
the most important part
of it all
That it's hard to say
Words that stick in your throat
don't ever come out as easily
as you want them too
trying to use "I need"s and "I feel"s
in order not to offend
when all you really want to do is scream
and shake
and sob
and know why
Being here before doesn't make it easier
if anything, it's harder to look around and realize
you're back
and the landscape hasn't changed
Still stuck
still ending up in this place
even though circumstances couldn't be more different
the question asks itself:
Is it me?
the chances you didn't take
the things you didn't say
the "wait..." that never came
No one seems to realize
the hesitation is sometimes
the most important part
of it all
That it's hard to say
Words that stick in your throat
don't ever come out as easily
as you want them too
trying to use "I need"s and "I feel"s
in order not to offend
when all you really want to do is scream
and shake
and sob
and know why
Being here before doesn't make it easier
if anything, it's harder to look around and realize
you're back
and the landscape hasn't changed
Still stuck
still ending up in this place
even though circumstances couldn't be more different
the question asks itself:
Is it me?
Friday, November 9, 2012
one of THOSE posts...
you know, those really annoying ones where the person is all "I'm mad at this person for something", and then you're all "oooohh, what happened??" and then they're all "I don't want to talk about it", or even better "omg. so crazy. I'll message you..."
Um HELLO?!?!?! You're posting all that shit all over the internets and NOW you're trying to be bashful about what the FUCK you're talking about??
Well, ok, this post won't be that bad... (I hope...)
BUT I do have some questions about how people my age (roughly 25...ish...ok, let's say people in their mid 20s to mid 30s) communicate intensions in this day and age. I don't know exactly when, in the last few years I have noticed that I've become both more aware of my strong personal feelings about people and circumstances, and that I've become less nervous/uneasy about sharing those feelings with others (especially when it involves them). I've been told that that's just "growing up", and that everyone goes through that.
As a 25 year old single, straight woman, I have found that there are MANY young men my age who do NOT subscribe to knowing how they feel and sharing that openly. It's frustrating. I'm ready to live my life openly in that way - when I know something, and I feel something for real, I'm gonna fucking say it. And I'm gonna fucking mean it. Don't waste my time with bullshit, and, more than that, if you don't have something real to say, please, please PLEASE for the love of God, don't say anything at all.
I know that the stereotype of women is that we read things into everything. Yes. We do. Get fucking used to it. If you say certain things, I will think that you mean something to that end. And come ON! This is not just me, this is a lot of people...
I guess just all I wanna say is "what the fuck?"
And also, that I'm sorry for this turning out to be one of those posts...it was. I admit it. And now I'm done. (And I promise I'll never do it again, I swear - haha)
Love, Bethy
Um HELLO?!?!?! You're posting all that shit all over the internets and NOW you're trying to be bashful about what the FUCK you're talking about??
Well, ok, this post won't be that bad... (I hope...)
BUT I do have some questions about how people my age (roughly 25...ish...ok, let's say people in their mid 20s to mid 30s) communicate intensions in this day and age. I don't know exactly when, in the last few years I have noticed that I've become both more aware of my strong personal feelings about people and circumstances, and that I've become less nervous/uneasy about sharing those feelings with others (especially when it involves them). I've been told that that's just "growing up", and that everyone goes through that.
As a 25 year old single, straight woman, I have found that there are MANY young men my age who do NOT subscribe to knowing how they feel and sharing that openly. It's frustrating. I'm ready to live my life openly in that way - when I know something, and I feel something for real, I'm gonna fucking say it. And I'm gonna fucking mean it. Don't waste my time with bullshit, and, more than that, if you don't have something real to say, please, please PLEASE for the love of God, don't say anything at all.
I know that the stereotype of women is that we read things into everything. Yes. We do. Get fucking used to it. If you say certain things, I will think that you mean something to that end. And come ON! This is not just me, this is a lot of people...
I guess just all I wanna say is "what the fuck?"
And also, that I'm sorry for this turning out to be one of those posts...it was. I admit it. And now I'm done. (And I promise I'll never do it again, I swear - haha)
Love, Bethy
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Musical Punctuation
Yesterday, I had a long day. A very long day.
And, to be honest, I didn't start it the most well-rested...Monday night, I slept in four to five 20-30 minute increments trying to finish papers for school, so by Tuesday morning, I was getting pretty loopy already.
I got to work a few minutes early and sucked down some coffee before getting on the truck. Normally, I work from 8 to 4, but I had a dentist appointment at 4:15 all the way across town, so I left the truck at 3:00.
Now generally, after I leave work, I am so exhausted I can hardly stand, much less focus on anything, and this time, though I left early, I was just trying to get to the dentist on time. I got on the red line from work, transferred at Park St, and instead of getting on the green line home, I walked to Downtown Crossing, relishing the warm air in the underground tunnel that normally is stifling and too hot, as it seeped into my bones. (One thing that I didn't think about when I got the job on the food truck was, um, winter. It's freaking cold on that truck.)
So I'm standing on the Platform for the orange line towards Forest Hills. This particular train/station is pretty well known for having at least one homeless man with a guitar wailing a Jesus-themed song (usually quite badly) at the top of his lungs. And as I looked around with my glassy eyes, I saw a man...with a guitar...sitting and preparing to sing. I anticipated the worst.
...and I received a gift.
This man started playing the guitar, and some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard poured out of it. His playing was technically good, but more than that, there was such emotion and soul coming out of his instrument.
And all I could do was stand and watch him, and wait for my train. And I'm sure that if I didn't have to get to the dentist, I would have missed the next one that came, on purpose just to listen to this man for longer. The tension started pouring out of me, and I just stood.
The rest of the day was not quite as stress-free as I would have liked it to be...but at the end of the day, that music, just for the few minutes that it was in my life, took a day that could have been all stress, and punctuated it with music. It was beautiful, it was life-giving, and it was a perhaps not-so-subtle reminder that maybe I should ride the orange line more often...
Love, Bethy
And, to be honest, I didn't start it the most well-rested...Monday night, I slept in four to five 20-30 minute increments trying to finish papers for school, so by Tuesday morning, I was getting pretty loopy already.
I got to work a few minutes early and sucked down some coffee before getting on the truck. Normally, I work from 8 to 4, but I had a dentist appointment at 4:15 all the way across town, so I left the truck at 3:00.
Now generally, after I leave work, I am so exhausted I can hardly stand, much less focus on anything, and this time, though I left early, I was just trying to get to the dentist on time. I got on the red line from work, transferred at Park St, and instead of getting on the green line home, I walked to Downtown Crossing, relishing the warm air in the underground tunnel that normally is stifling and too hot, as it seeped into my bones. (One thing that I didn't think about when I got the job on the food truck was, um, winter. It's freaking cold on that truck.)
So I'm standing on the Platform for the orange line towards Forest Hills. This particular train/station is pretty well known for having at least one homeless man with a guitar wailing a Jesus-themed song (usually quite badly) at the top of his lungs. And as I looked around with my glassy eyes, I saw a man...with a guitar...sitting and preparing to sing. I anticipated the worst.
...and I received a gift.
This man started playing the guitar, and some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard poured out of it. His playing was technically good, but more than that, there was such emotion and soul coming out of his instrument.
And all I could do was stand and watch him, and wait for my train. And I'm sure that if I didn't have to get to the dentist, I would have missed the next one that came, on purpose just to listen to this man for longer. The tension started pouring out of me, and I just stood.
The rest of the day was not quite as stress-free as I would have liked it to be...but at the end of the day, that music, just for the few minutes that it was in my life, took a day that could have been all stress, and punctuated it with music. It was beautiful, it was life-giving, and it was a perhaps not-so-subtle reminder that maybe I should ride the orange line more often...
Love, Bethy
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