We've already established that women are crazy. And that's nothing that we women should be ashamed of. We are passionate creatures. We feel things insanely deeply. Every emotion is a whirlwind of intensity that is experienced to the fullest. This isn't always a beneficial aspect of being a woman, however. Previously, I talked about how men need to watch out for how they behave around women, because women are easily susceptible to the charms of chivalry. I also mentioned that the way we women behave is usually much worse than anything guys are capable of. And here's why.
Women are mental. Men are physical. Guys have a problem, they punch something. Women have a problem, and you never hear the end of it. There's plotting. There's diabolical scheming. And it's all in our heads. There's a reason that girls are stereotyped as alien beings that men can't seem to understand. We don't even understand ourselves. But how does this tie in to guys not being too nice and 13-year-old girls going crazy over texts? The thing is, as I've said, women are over-thinkers. We take every little action and blow it out of proportion, making ourselves go crazy over all the possible meanings of said action. When a guy is just honestly being a nice guy, being thoughtful, kind, chivalrous, and gentlemanly, women can often misinterpret this as something more. A guy tells a girl she looks very pretty. The girl thinks it means he's in love with her. Not immediately, though. This conclusion is the result of many nights of ruminating over "what he meant". Due to the over-thinking, the girl has played out various scenarios in her head and has convinced herself that she is in love with the guy who complimented her. (This is somewhat of an exaggeration).
Obviously, guys aren't the only ones who have things to work on. Girls need to work on taking steps rather than sprinting to a hypothetical finish line in their heads. We need to see things for what they really are instead of jumping from point A to point B at the drop of a hat (or at the reception of a text). It's unfair to guys who are just trying to be the the gentlemen that God created them to be. Guys just attempting to be kind and virtuous. And it's unfair to the friendships that we women can form with these men. If a guy has to worry that every single little thing he says will be taken differently than his intention, he's not going to want to keep up that chivalrous, thoughtful personality. A personality that keeps getting him into awkward situations with his female friends.
I realize that many people may have no notion of what I'm talking about. This isn't everyone's experience. Personally, I've seen a lot of this type of thing happen. And it's sad to think that men and women are prevented from a genuine friendship because of flirtatious niceties and over-thinkers, on both sides. We women need to slow down, stand back, and evaluate things for what they really are, not for what we want them to be. We need to stop jumping to outrageous conclusions and stop mentally behaving like preteens at a Jonas Brothers concert. We need to thank God for wonderful men who go out of their way to make us feel special. As women. As friends. Guys who will do those nice things for us without expecting anything in return. We need to stop being mental, and start being real.
To be continued.....again.....
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Part One: You've Been Lied To
"WHY WON'T HE TEXT ME?! Was it something I said? He seemed like he liked me....so does he? Why are boys so complicated?! Forget him. Just forget him. He's obviously not worth it if he can't take the time to even- OH MY GOSH HE JUST TEXTED ME! I. Am. So. In. Love."
Guys, just skip over the next few parts. It might cause your uvula to twitch.
Okay, girls. No matter how much you tell yourselves you're NOT like this, you are. Underneath whatever facade you force onto the world, you are that little, 13-year-old girl whose easily broken heart jumps every time that cute boy says hello. Or, maybe that isn't quite you. Irregardless, you've gushed, you've obsessed, you've "wondered why he didn't (insert communication response here)" you back. You wondered the why's and you pondered the if's. "Why won't he talk to me?", and my personal favorite, "If only I knew what he was thinking!" Ladies, I've recently come to realize that we're all a bit crazy, eh? We're over-thinkers, to put it plainly. We stand on the precipice of insanity, just barely keeping ourselves in the land of the sane.
What guys don't understand is that girls don't just take something at face value. We never see or hear things as they really are. Listen men, when you send a girl a sweet text, I can guarantee you within 5 minutes of her receiving it, she's already got her wedding dress picked out. Don't let this scare you. Let it frighten you to the core. Be afraid. Be "holy crap my mom said my dad will deal with me when he gets home" afraid. You may not realize it, but you have an insane amount of power that is effortless in use and impossible to control. Because it's pretty much anything you say and do. If a girl likes a guy, she will start to see anything nice he does for her as an admission of unconditional love.
Alright, so guys have something they need to watch out for. You all need to watch your behavior. Be careful how you say things and how you act around women. In an age where chivalry is very nearly dead in appearance, we women will cling to anything that ever so slightly resembles it. We have an inherent need to be cared for. And sometimes, an extra caring male friend can over step boundaries without really realizing it. Without knowing he's done it, he's sending out signals to a hyper-receptive receiver, just by being a nice guy. So just watch yourselves. Make sure that if you don't have feelings for a girl, you make it clear. Be a gentleman without being too gentle. There's a balance. Like I said, girls are looking for anything that resembles a true man. And sometimes, being friendly can come across as flirty, if you're not careful.
Any woman reading this is probably nodding her head in agreement. Well, it's your turn now sweetheart. I'm sick of all the crap guys get about their "behavior". I'm tired of listening to talks that are used to bring home the point that men are senseless pigs who don't understand anything about anything. And I'm so done with the whole "women are the crown of Creation; far above anything else. Something men must chase after. But men are too incompetent to know how to treat their women like a true man should." Granted, not everyone thinks this way. But more often than not, I find most "relationship" talks to be similarly repetitive in nature. I hate having my gender placed on a pedestal of something impossible to live up to. Men, you've been lied to. Because we have just as many issues and problems as you. In fact, we're worse.
To be continued. . . .
Guys, just skip over the next few parts. It might cause your uvula to twitch.
Okay, girls. No matter how much you tell yourselves you're NOT like this, you are. Underneath whatever facade you force onto the world, you are that little, 13-year-old girl whose easily broken heart jumps every time that cute boy says hello. Or, maybe that isn't quite you. Irregardless, you've gushed, you've obsessed, you've "wondered why he didn't (insert communication response here)" you back. You wondered the why's and you pondered the if's. "Why won't he talk to me?", and my personal favorite, "If only I knew what he was thinking!" Ladies, I've recently come to realize that we're all a bit crazy, eh? We're over-thinkers, to put it plainly. We stand on the precipice of insanity, just barely keeping ourselves in the land of the sane.
What guys don't understand is that girls don't just take something at face value. We never see or hear things as they really are. Listen men, when you send a girl a sweet text, I can guarantee you within 5 minutes of her receiving it, she's already got her wedding dress picked out. Don't let this scare you. Let it frighten you to the core. Be afraid. Be "holy crap my mom said my dad will deal with me when he gets home" afraid. You may not realize it, but you have an insane amount of power that is effortless in use and impossible to control. Because it's pretty much anything you say and do. If a girl likes a guy, she will start to see anything nice he does for her as an admission of unconditional love.
Alright, so guys have something they need to watch out for. You all need to watch your behavior. Be careful how you say things and how you act around women. In an age where chivalry is very nearly dead in appearance, we women will cling to anything that ever so slightly resembles it. We have an inherent need to be cared for. And sometimes, an extra caring male friend can over step boundaries without really realizing it. Without knowing he's done it, he's sending out signals to a hyper-receptive receiver, just by being a nice guy. So just watch yourselves. Make sure that if you don't have feelings for a girl, you make it clear. Be a gentleman without being too gentle. There's a balance. Like I said, girls are looking for anything that resembles a true man. And sometimes, being friendly can come across as flirty, if you're not careful.
Any woman reading this is probably nodding her head in agreement. Well, it's your turn now sweetheart. I'm sick of all the crap guys get about their "behavior". I'm tired of listening to talks that are used to bring home the point that men are senseless pigs who don't understand anything about anything. And I'm so done with the whole "women are the crown of Creation; far above anything else. Something men must chase after. But men are too incompetent to know how to treat their women like a true man should." Granted, not everyone thinks this way. But more often than not, I find most "relationship" talks to be similarly repetitive in nature. I hate having my gender placed on a pedestal of something impossible to live up to. Men, you've been lied to. Because we have just as many issues and problems as you. In fact, we're worse.
To be continued. . . .
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Let's Get Naked
First, I pluck my eyebrows until the color of the skin around them resembles a cherry tomato. Next, I use a thin brush to carefully apply a small line of green eyeshadow as an eyeliner above my eyelashes (because I'm too lazy to go out and buy actual eyeliner). I gently brush a layer of brown and then gold to my lid, and finish with mascara on my upper and lower eyelashes. It takes about 8 minutes and 52 seconds (my roommate timed me once...). What I have just described is the routine that I must follow before I allow myself to leave the house.
The application of makeup. Some days, I sincerely believe I can't live without it. If I leave the house without it firmly plastered onto my face, I feel gross. Bare. I say all the time that it's stupid when girls feel that they can't be pretty without it. But I'm just as guilty as anyone else. Honestly, I don't use a ton of makeup. I use some on my eyes. But even the little that I do use seems necessary and imperative to my appearance. I look at myself in the mirror sometimes when I'm not wearing it, and think, I'm so glad man created artificial enhancements.
Okay. If you're a girl, and your internal operating system agreed with the above statement, then there is something intrinsically wrong here. If women are at the point where they rely on artificial means in order to feel good about themselves, then we're just that much closer to a futuristic Skynet paradigm. And trust me, after years of smearing powder, creams, and paints onto our faces, our natural beauty will most certainly not "be back". (If you haven't caught the reference yet, please excuse your uneducated existence and go watch more movies). But in all seriousness, how can we look at ourselves and NOT see anything but pure loveliness? How can we glance at ourselves in a reflective surface and say, "I need to cover that up." In the words of Magneto from X-men: First Class, "Have you ever look at a tiger and it's stripes and thought you ought to cover it up?" Yeah. I just went full on nerd.
Putting on makeup isn't an inherently evil thing. That's not at all what I'm trying to get at. There's nothing wrong with adding some minor adjustments to yourself to enhance the natural beauty that's already present. The problem occurs when we women genuinely believe that we don't have beauty without it. We define ourselves through appearance on a daily basis. The clothes we wear are usually an outward manifestation of our inward personalities. The shoes and bags we buy are to enhance those fashion choices. The way we do our hair, the jewelry we choose, and lastly, the makeup we apply, are all ways we present ourselves to the world. And there's nothing wrong with presenting ourselves in this way. There's nothing wrong with loving clothes and shoes and makeup. But there is something wrong with becoming our clothes and shoes and makeup.
I'm not even going to try to touch on the subject of the social media. We all know how it affects our self- esteem. But let's take our self-esteem back. Let's show ourselves that we can be beautiful without relying on artificial means. That we can be lovely and feminine without being fake. Even if we only prove this to ourselves. Don't worry about the impositions of humans on this planet. As long as you can look at your reflection and be more than satisfied with what you see without being covered up. Which is why I'm issuing a challenge.
THE CHALLENGE
Pick a day. Any day. As long as it's within this star date. Look at your makeup bag. Now back at this blog. Now back at your makeup bag. Look! The bag is now non-existent. Look back at this blog. It is filled with unending encouragement. Now look in the mirror. What do you see? Keep looking. Your reflection is the most beautiful thing in the room. And I sound like the Old Spice guy.
Okay, here are the parameters of the challenge. You must pick one day and go an entire 24 hours without applying even the slightest bit of makeup. Not even that teeny bit of mascara that makes your eyelashes just that much longer. Or that little bit of concealer to cover up that pimple. Nothing. Accept yourself as utterly gorgeous and fantastically beautiful. Allow your face to be naked. Because you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Maybe a lot of you will find this challenge easy. Some of you definitely won't, and some of you won't even consider it. It just breaks my heart to see so many lovely women cover up their beauty in the hopes that they will become "beautiful". For me, after going a couple days without reaching for my safety blanket of eyeliner, I find it much easier to stay away from it altogether. To use it sparingly. To not completely rely on it.
Girls, ladies, women. Let's remove the facade of artificial beauty and push away our insecurities. Let's stop worrying that our eyebrows aren't shaped a certain way. That we have too many freckles. That our eyes aren't the right color. That our lashes aren't long enough. Let's metaphorically cast off the shackles that we use as "safety blankets" against the media's chilling expectations. Let's remove any doubt that we aren't society's glimmering gems. Let's bare it all.
Let's get naked.
The application of makeup. Some days, I sincerely believe I can't live without it. If I leave the house without it firmly plastered onto my face, I feel gross. Bare. I say all the time that it's stupid when girls feel that they can't be pretty without it. But I'm just as guilty as anyone else. Honestly, I don't use a ton of makeup. I use some on my eyes. But even the little that I do use seems necessary and imperative to my appearance. I look at myself in the mirror sometimes when I'm not wearing it, and think, I'm so glad man created artificial enhancements.
Okay. If you're a girl, and your internal operating system agreed with the above statement, then there is something intrinsically wrong here. If women are at the point where they rely on artificial means in order to feel good about themselves, then we're just that much closer to a futuristic Skynet paradigm. And trust me, after years of smearing powder, creams, and paints onto our faces, our natural beauty will most certainly not "be back". (If you haven't caught the reference yet, please excuse your uneducated existence and go watch more movies). But in all seriousness, how can we look at ourselves and NOT see anything but pure loveliness? How can we glance at ourselves in a reflective surface and say, "I need to cover that up." In the words of Magneto from X-men: First Class, "Have you ever look at a tiger and it's stripes and thought you ought to cover it up?" Yeah. I just went full on nerd.
Putting on makeup isn't an inherently evil thing. That's not at all what I'm trying to get at. There's nothing wrong with adding some minor adjustments to yourself to enhance the natural beauty that's already present. The problem occurs when we women genuinely believe that we don't have beauty without it. We define ourselves through appearance on a daily basis. The clothes we wear are usually an outward manifestation of our inward personalities. The shoes and bags we buy are to enhance those fashion choices. The way we do our hair, the jewelry we choose, and lastly, the makeup we apply, are all ways we present ourselves to the world. And there's nothing wrong with presenting ourselves in this way. There's nothing wrong with loving clothes and shoes and makeup. But there is something wrong with becoming our clothes and shoes and makeup.
I'm not even going to try to touch on the subject of the social media. We all know how it affects our self- esteem. But let's take our self-esteem back. Let's show ourselves that we can be beautiful without relying on artificial means. That we can be lovely and feminine without being fake. Even if we only prove this to ourselves. Don't worry about the impositions of humans on this planet. As long as you can look at your reflection and be more than satisfied with what you see without being covered up. Which is why I'm issuing a challenge.
THE CHALLENGE
Pick a day. Any day. As long as it's within this star date. Look at your makeup bag. Now back at this blog. Now back at your makeup bag. Look! The bag is now non-existent. Look back at this blog. It is filled with unending encouragement. Now look in the mirror. What do you see? Keep looking. Your reflection is the most beautiful thing in the room. And I sound like the Old Spice guy.
Okay, here are the parameters of the challenge. You must pick one day and go an entire 24 hours without applying even the slightest bit of makeup. Not even that teeny bit of mascara that makes your eyelashes just that much longer. Or that little bit of concealer to cover up that pimple. Nothing. Accept yourself as utterly gorgeous and fantastically beautiful. Allow your face to be naked. Because you are fearfully and wonderfully made. Maybe a lot of you will find this challenge easy. Some of you definitely won't, and some of you won't even consider it. It just breaks my heart to see so many lovely women cover up their beauty in the hopes that they will become "beautiful". For me, after going a couple days without reaching for my safety blanket of eyeliner, I find it much easier to stay away from it altogether. To use it sparingly. To not completely rely on it.
Girls, ladies, women. Let's remove the facade of artificial beauty and push away our insecurities. Let's stop worrying that our eyebrows aren't shaped a certain way. That we have too many freckles. That our eyes aren't the right color. That our lashes aren't long enough. Let's metaphorically cast off the shackles that we use as "safety blankets" against the media's chilling expectations. Let's remove any doubt that we aren't society's glimmering gems. Let's bare it all.
Let's get naked.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Brain Spew
I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing. With anything. But specifically, with this "blog". What is my goal for this? What do I hope to get out of this? Why even bother figuring out things to write about? Even right now, I'm metaphorically slapping myself, trying desperately to come up with something interesting, attention grabbing, and deeply philosophical that will leave the reader speechless at my level of creativity and talent. So is that what this is for? Attention? That's pretty lame. I hope I'm doing this is for reasons better than that one. When I first thought of the idea of doing something like this, it started as a "journal" of sorts. Just some files on my computer that I would sporadically save things in. I most definitely did not intend for people to view anything in said files. Like, seriously. I would have thought that I would have shot myself to prevent that from happening. Now that I think about it, if ever there were a time machine....
The thing that bothers me is this: I was attempting to challenge myself. I wanted to do something that made my clumsy feet step over the caution tape of my cordoned off comfort zone. Something that made my insides want to be on my outsides because I would be so uncomfortable sharing what I had to say. Even though it hasn't even been a week since I started this, I already feel as though I'm eons away from my initial reasons behind beginning it. I guess I was hoping to see myself in a raw light. Totally strip away anything that covers up the pale flesh of my psyche. Bare it all. But even now there's a curtain. A facade of sarcasm and run-on sentences that I subconsciously hope will keep prying eyes away. I want to be honest with myself. But I guess you have to understand yourself before you can understand what honesty is in relation to yourself. But what does being honest with myself entail? Eventually, I hope to find out through constantly getting all my thoughts out onto virtual paper and organizing them until they make some kind of sense.
The thing that bothers me is this: I was attempting to challenge myself. I wanted to do something that made my clumsy feet step over the caution tape of my cordoned off comfort zone. Something that made my insides want to be on my outsides because I would be so uncomfortable sharing what I had to say. Even though it hasn't even been a week since I started this, I already feel as though I'm eons away from my initial reasons behind beginning it. I guess I was hoping to see myself in a raw light. Totally strip away anything that covers up the pale flesh of my psyche. Bare it all. But even now there's a curtain. A facade of sarcasm and run-on sentences that I subconsciously hope will keep prying eyes away. I want to be honest with myself. But I guess you have to understand yourself before you can understand what honesty is in relation to yourself. But what does being honest with myself entail? Eventually, I hope to find out through constantly getting all my thoughts out onto virtual paper and organizing them until they make some kind of sense.
So, yeah. I don't really know where I was going with this. It's just some late night brain spewing. But we kind of need that once in a while. Just a typed out stream of consciousness. Something that flows like a river in our heads, but like play-dough when it gets to paper. Something that only makes sense to us. Something that we can call ours, even if what we're calling "ours" is a personal struggle or problem. Anyway, to sum up, I don't know what I'm doing or why I'm doing it. I'm figuring things out as I go along and trying desperately to be true to myself.
Whatever that means...
Monday, July 9, 2012
The Importance of Spelunking
"For if, in time, we come to the end of one journey and find that our lives once more intersect, then take me with you on your next adventure. I'll be a good-hearted companion, an optimistic soul, and a joyous friend. Happy to have the chance to travel with you once again."There's nothing more fulfilling than a well-needed excursion, an exciting escapade, or a spontaneous adventure. And there's nothing more vital to these than good company. While the occasional lone journey for the purpose of reflection and self-exploration is always good for the soul, there's something special about experiencing travel with companionship. I'm not talking about some long, drawn out journey through mountainous terrain or a cross-country drive from Maine to Southern California (although, now that I think about it, bucket list?). Sometimes, all one needs is a late night trip to Sonic for slushies and greasy appetizers. Or a midnight venture to a playground swing set. Or a decision at 7:30 on a Saturday night to have a barbecue at 8 by the lake. Possibly even a long walk to a field full of stars. But any of these "adventures" are meaningless and pointless without wonderfully fantastic people to take with you.
Fellowship is an integral part of our basic human needs. Companionship with people we respect and admire is something that sets us apart from every other organism. I love good times. I love having good times with good people. And I love having those good times with those good people for the sake of saying "Yeah, that's right. We did that." When was the last time you woke up and said, "Today, I'm making a freaking fantastic memory. Today, I'm gonna climb a tree, scale a wall, jump in a puddle, and see how many marshmallows I can fit in my mouth. I'm gonna build a bonfire. Cruise around town in a beat-up car. Make a cake and get covered in flour. And I'm gonna do all of it by myself!" Yes! Wait, what?
I crave the chance to do all of this. But by myself? I want to be surrounded by good company! No one wants to do memorable things by themselves. I have an inherent need to share adventures and experiences with others. I want to do epic things with epic people. Or completely mundane things. Even a seemingly boring trip to the grocery store can become insanely spectacular when you're with the right people (and when you have way too many grocery carts...). Adventure is everywhere. All you need to see it is the right pair of aviators.
Sometimes, however, I get a little too preoccupied with making future memories that I forget to enjoy the ones I'm living. I want to be able to soak in the present and exist in just one moment at a time. But I also want to get through and do as much as possible in the shortest amount of time. I don't want a single day to go by wasted. The challenge I face is taking it as it comes. There's quite a bit to the art of spelunking. It's not as simple as some people would believe. Everything in moderation. And location, location, location.
So go do something exciting. Fill up your gas tank and just drive. See how far you get before you run out. Take a turn onto a road because you like its name. Pick up a few people on your way. Allow your life to intersect with those around you. Be someone who people don't want to do something without. The kind of person of whom others will say "It's not an adventure without them!"
Just don't forget your aviators.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Temporary Home
An explanation.
Leaving college and freshman year behind for the summer was the most heart-breaking thing I'd experienced all year. I sat in the airport waiting for my flight that was delayed for ANOTHER two hours (is Southwest ever actually on time?) when I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't take the fact that I was leaving home.
But wait, I thought to myself, you're not leaving home. You're going home.
And that's when I realized that if home is really where the heart is, then I must have some genetic deformity that leaves its host with two blood-beating, life giving organs. I felt split in space and time. I had two homes. Two places where I was welcome and comfortable and loved. Two geographical locations that I found I could miss simultaneously. After thinking on this for a bit, I fired up my computer, waited twenty minutes, and wrote myself a little poem. (It was a twenty minute wait because I felt that the 86-year-old woman with two hearing aids listening to a book on tape deserved the power outlet more than I did. Plus she was listening to Lord of the Rings. And you don't interrupt that. But I digress).
Tapping my feet
Anticipation welling up
Inside of me, heart pounding
As I await the metal bird
That takes me home.
Leaving my second skin
In the middle of the desert plain
And traversing the cold blue heavens
Of white and blue
That lead me home to you.
But inside
In the back of my mind
Like a dark cloud
Hovering, sneaking up behind
Is the sorrow as I leave
This place of mine
Where friends reside in laughter
And bittersweet happiness.
It’s a strange feeling
Tears and smiles
That leave me bursting with emotion
So strong, so quick
I can’t control
When or what I feel.
Goodbyes were said
Memories reminisced
And now as I leave this second skin
To slip back in
To the old one
I’d thought I’d lost
I realize that this place is more
Than just a temporary home.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Dubstep Diaries
A refrigerator being crushed by a T-rex giving birth to a humpback whale while in the next room over Thor is releasing the Kraken. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you dUbStEp.
A lot of people are intensely into this new-ish genre of music. And there's an equal amount of people appalled by the fact that we list this "noise" under the heading of "music". As with every other form of self-expression, there's bound to be some controversy. I wasn't really all that into the metal-crushing sound of despair hitting a ceiling fan. Until I realized it was absolutely beautiful.
When I hear the term "self-expression" I think of a person painting a masterpiece. Or writing a poem. Or singing from their heart. I think of creativity coming from the inner sanctum of the soul. A room held under lock and key. A place with golden knobs, oriental rugs, and colorful furnishings that we're afraid others will disapprove of. When I think of self-expression, I think of a specific location inside of a person that's bright and airy; and when a person unlocks this hidden room, shining bits of beauty meander out towards the rest of the world. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? Well, it's wrong. It's wrong on so many levels. It's horridly, horridly ignorant. It's also wrong.
I realized a short time ago that no one is that neat and tidy. No one's inner self is an unending field of grass where unicorns frolic in rays of rainbow sunshine. Life is messy and people are messier. The "inner self" is mixed with mashed up gunk that we don't know what to do with. Sure, we contain a beauty that is meant to be shared with humankind. But that beauty is intermingled with frustration, anger, resentment, fear, and just a touch of self-loathing. We are certainly not perfect. And there isn't a special place inside of us that is. Every single part of us is tainted by our fallen nature.
Like I said, usually when I thought of self-expression, I thought of some kind of almost perfect beauty that emerges from the depths of our souls. Ya know, the usual philosophical jargon. After my recent ruminations, however, I've come to realize that the completely perfect representation of what's really going on inside of us is dUbStEp. (Gosh, I love random letter capitalization).
Everything that dubstep is, everything it sounds like is exactly how I feel. There's a mixed up musical emotion of deep bass, electronic whizzes and whirls, bells and chimes, squeaks and revving engines. But amidst the chaotic rumble of the refrigerator being crushed by the T-rex, there's an underlying order. A line of melody and timing that the machine of dissonance follows. It's like if someone took all the mixed up gunk and beauty inside of you and splattered it all over a canvas. The raw emotion blares uninhibited through the speakers. No words, just what seems like pure, unadulterated sound. That's the beauty of it. Because it's not unadulterated. It's been tinkered with and fixed. It's been played with until it's creator is satisfied with the product. But the perception of it is a chaotic one. How could there possibly be an order to this "noise"?
Well, how can there be an order to the mish-mash mess we attempt to self-express? It's almost a comfort to me. Like, I can now see myself (or rather hear myself) in dubstep. I see that it's possible to put into order what seems so decidedly disordered. But in a way that's so raw, it takes you by surprise and leaves you dumbfounded. I realize I'm all over the place, but I promise, I'm getting to the point.
My perception of myself has changed. I no longer believe that there's something wrong with me because my inner self isn't that beautiful land where unicorns reside. I always thought that that's what it was supposed to be. I always imagined self-expression to be a representation of something pure. But I've realized we're not pure. No part of us is pure. What's inside us is messy. And for me, through the clashing of seemingly randomized sounds, I find an order. Those times when I don't know how to get out the burst of energetic electricity inside me, when all I can think to say is "SHPLURGDEBURWESHXI". That's when I completely relate to the chaos of dubstep. It's messy, but beautiful.
Just like me.
A lot of people are intensely into this new-ish genre of music. And there's an equal amount of people appalled by the fact that we list this "noise" under the heading of "music". As with every other form of self-expression, there's bound to be some controversy. I wasn't really all that into the metal-crushing sound of despair hitting a ceiling fan. Until I realized it was absolutely beautiful.
When I hear the term "self-expression" I think of a person painting a masterpiece. Or writing a poem. Or singing from their heart. I think of creativity coming from the inner sanctum of the soul. A room held under lock and key. A place with golden knobs, oriental rugs, and colorful furnishings that we're afraid others will disapprove of. When I think of self-expression, I think of a specific location inside of a person that's bright and airy; and when a person unlocks this hidden room, shining bits of beauty meander out towards the rest of the world. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? Well, it's wrong. It's wrong on so many levels. It's horridly, horridly ignorant. It's also wrong.
I realized a short time ago that no one is that neat and tidy. No one's inner self is an unending field of grass where unicorns frolic in rays of rainbow sunshine. Life is messy and people are messier. The "inner self" is mixed with mashed up gunk that we don't know what to do with. Sure, we contain a beauty that is meant to be shared with humankind. But that beauty is intermingled with frustration, anger, resentment, fear, and just a touch of self-loathing. We are certainly not perfect. And there isn't a special place inside of us that is. Every single part of us is tainted by our fallen nature.
Like I said, usually when I thought of self-expression, I thought of some kind of almost perfect beauty that emerges from the depths of our souls. Ya know, the usual philosophical jargon. After my recent ruminations, however, I've come to realize that the completely perfect representation of what's really going on inside of us is dUbStEp. (Gosh, I love random letter capitalization).
Everything that dubstep is, everything it sounds like is exactly how I feel. There's a mixed up musical emotion of deep bass, electronic whizzes and whirls, bells and chimes, squeaks and revving engines. But amidst the chaotic rumble of the refrigerator being crushed by the T-rex, there's an underlying order. A line of melody and timing that the machine of dissonance follows. It's like if someone took all the mixed up gunk and beauty inside of you and splattered it all over a canvas. The raw emotion blares uninhibited through the speakers. No words, just what seems like pure, unadulterated sound. That's the beauty of it. Because it's not unadulterated. It's been tinkered with and fixed. It's been played with until it's creator is satisfied with the product. But the perception of it is a chaotic one. How could there possibly be an order to this "noise"?
Well, how can there be an order to the mish-mash mess we attempt to self-express? It's almost a comfort to me. Like, I can now see myself (or rather hear myself) in dubstep. I see that it's possible to put into order what seems so decidedly disordered. But in a way that's so raw, it takes you by surprise and leaves you dumbfounded. I realize I'm all over the place, but I promise, I'm getting to the point.
My perception of myself has changed. I no longer believe that there's something wrong with me because my inner self isn't that beautiful land where unicorns reside. I always thought that that's what it was supposed to be. I always imagined self-expression to be a representation of something pure. But I've realized we're not pure. No part of us is pure. What's inside us is messy. And for me, through the clashing of seemingly randomized sounds, I find an order. Those times when I don't know how to get out the burst of energetic electricity inside me, when all I can think to say is "SHPLURGDEBURWESHXI". That's when I completely relate to the chaos of dubstep. It's messy, but beautiful.
Just like me.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Some Introduction
What prompts us to share ideas?
I love imposing my views onto other people. It's a horrible habit, and a vice I've been tirelessly working to eradicate. But, nonetheless, I love telling other people what I think and why they should think it as well. Why? Because it's fun. Because I get some sort of satisfaction from proving someone else wrong. Because it's human nature to argue. These are simply my best guesses. But the question still remains: why do we want to voice our ideas and opinions to other people? And why do we most often hide behind the safety of our internet to do so, since we are "obviously" confident in our claims of truth? I honestly don't know the answer. But I will admit that I am one of these people. Well, duh, I am creating a blog.
The reason for this blog.
Like I said, I like to share ideas, opinions, and thoughts. But I, like any other person, like to do so without being interrupted and outrightly challenged. What better place for me than a blogging site? However, that's not the only reason.
I can't possibly count the number of times during the day when my brain goes into daydream mode. You know exactly what I mean. You're sitting, standing, kneeling, crouching, back-bending, hand-standing, whatever it is you do, and your mind is completely somewhere else. I daydream and I philosophize, and quite often I have really fascinating ruminations about life, death, love, nature, brownies, you name it. But I never write anything down. I want to, because every time I do the daydream, I learn things about myself. I discover more the inner workings of what makes me me. And whether or not I decide to share this blog with anyone (or if I do, that anyone actually reads it), it doesn't matter. This is for me. For my peace of mind. And for the growth of my soul.
Some random warnings.
1. I'm not an English major. I. Love. Sentence. Fragments. Run-on sentences make me giddy. Grammar usage is not my forte. If this is going to bother you, and make your inner grammar Nazi twitch with horror, LEAVE NOW.
2. While I don't usually intend to offend, offense usually happens anyway. Odds are that whoever reading whatever I write (type) won't agree with me on something. This is the internet. I'm willing to take that chance.
Wrapping Up.
Hopefully, all goes well and I actually enjoy this. Because, to me, that's the most important thing. If you don't like what you're doing, what's the point? We all need that outlet of creativity that helps to make us a well rounded individual, and I guess this is mine. However, unlike the great artists of music (Beethoven, Mozart, Liszt), art (Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh), and story (Homer, Dante, Dickens), the expressions of my inner self will most likely go no where. They'll stay here, never to be famous, quoted, or thought of again. Never to be immortalized or praised. And that's just how I like it. See, me and my ramblings, we're not here for eternity.
We're just passing through.
I love imposing my views onto other people. It's a horrible habit, and a vice I've been tirelessly working to eradicate. But, nonetheless, I love telling other people what I think and why they should think it as well. Why? Because it's fun. Because I get some sort of satisfaction from proving someone else wrong. Because it's human nature to argue. These are simply my best guesses. But the question still remains: why do we want to voice our ideas and opinions to other people? And why do we most often hide behind the safety of our internet to do so, since we are "obviously" confident in our claims of truth? I honestly don't know the answer. But I will admit that I am one of these people. Well, duh, I am creating a blog.
The reason for this blog.
Like I said, I like to share ideas, opinions, and thoughts. But I, like any other person, like to do so without being interrupted and outrightly challenged. What better place for me than a blogging site? However, that's not the only reason.
I can't possibly count the number of times during the day when my brain goes into daydream mode. You know exactly what I mean. You're sitting, standing, kneeling, crouching, back-bending, hand-standing, whatever it is you do, and your mind is completely somewhere else. I daydream and I philosophize, and quite often I have really fascinating ruminations about life, death, love, nature, brownies, you name it. But I never write anything down. I want to, because every time I do the daydream, I learn things about myself. I discover more the inner workings of what makes me me. And whether or not I decide to share this blog with anyone (or if I do, that anyone actually reads it), it doesn't matter. This is for me. For my peace of mind. And for the growth of my soul.
Some random warnings.
1. I'm not an English major. I. Love. Sentence. Fragments. Run-on sentences make me giddy. Grammar usage is not my forte. If this is going to bother you, and make your inner grammar Nazi twitch with horror, LEAVE NOW.
2. While I don't usually intend to offend, offense usually happens anyway. Odds are that whoever reading whatever I write (type) won't agree with me on something. This is the internet. I'm willing to take that chance.
Wrapping Up.
Hopefully, all goes well and I actually enjoy this. Because, to me, that's the most important thing. If you don't like what you're doing, what's the point? We all need that outlet of creativity that helps to make us a well rounded individual, and I guess this is mine. However, unlike the great artists of music (Beethoven, Mozart, Liszt), art (Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh), and story (Homer, Dante, Dickens), the expressions of my inner self will most likely go no where. They'll stay here, never to be famous, quoted, or thought of again. Never to be immortalized or praised. And that's just how I like it. See, me and my ramblings, we're not here for eternity.
We're just passing through.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)