thirty two.

Longing

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.


Matthew Arnold

thirty one.

Just finished reading The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern. It was absolutely enchanting and I feel like I don't want to leave my bed yet because I want to hold on to the feeling for a while longer before I forget it. This book was absolutely made for people like me; dreamers, who live half in the real world and half in the one inside their own head. I have spent most of my life wishing that some grand adventure would come sweep me away, and this book did that if only for the few days it took me to read. I don't think I'll reread it too soon because, as a wise man once said, "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live". Still, I feel I will be waiting for the circus to arrive without warning in every empty field, and I may start wearing a red scarf now and again.

twenty-four seven.

No, not really. Just twenty-four actually. My mind is so distracted right now that it will be hard to give this entry any structure but I will try to remain sensical (oh I've lost it already!)

I have recently been watching a lot (a lot a lot a lot) of YouTube videos by people my own age of various genders and nationalities and it has ignited in me the spark to create. Mostly it has sparked a fierce jealousy that these creative people have such a wonderful outlet for their thoughts and ideas, and I started to wonder why I never got into YouTube-ing (vlogging, I believe they call it.) However, the further into this idea I thought, the more I realized that there are many very good reasons that I am not a vlogger.

Sparing you the details, I will skip straight to the point: speech is not my medium of choice. I love words, but they need to be printed and structured and not just spewing out of my stupid face with sound effects and bad outtakes. My creative outlet has been here all along! I've just not been using it!

All of that being said, here's a picture of my stupid face serving to both add some depth to this entry and to help you picture these stupid words coming out of it right at you:

NO ONE WANTS THAT! So, in closing, I'm going to make another entry directly after this one and it's going to be much better. The end.

twenty two.

I am frustrated. Somewhere past the excitement of choosing a new path comes the reality of what it will take to travel that path, and that is where I am now. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I managed to go so long without ever contemplating my future at all, and in that process how I managed to screw myself over so thoroughly.

I did really try in high school. I will give myself that. My dreams of going straight to a four year school lasted well into my senior year, so at least in that department I did alright. I don't know why I'm beating myself up now over not being smarter. There's really nothing you can do about that, except work with what you've got. I've always been the dumbest out of the smart kids. The worst of the best. I've always preferred that to being the best of the worst. Still, I don't find any comfort in it. I just want to be the best at something, sometime, once. Just to know what it's like.

I remember at some point thinking "this decision is going to screw you if you ever want to go back to school" and I also remember responding to myself with "I do not ever want to go back to school." I am so fucking stupid. I literally cannot tame the self-hate I am feeling in retrospect. The fact that I was miserably depressed at the time does not play into account. I am ashamed of myself for not being able to just push through and get my associates. Community college. What a joke. Even after all I've been through, all of the opportunities and time I've wasted, I still think I'm better than community college. I'm not. And I have no degree to show for my arrogance. I have nothing to show for anything, and I am ashamed.

I know there's no point to these feelings. They're not getting me anywhere, they serve no purpose but to bring me down, and yet here they are. I guess this is just a look into my brain. This is what goes on in there. It's a constant struggle of man vs. self. I expect more, I know I am capable of more, and yet here I sit doing absolutely nothing to achieve more. I don't understand.

twenty.

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going,
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

(via http://paulocoelhoblog.com)

eighteen.

I have this dream where I go to Paris (or London, or Barcelona, I'm not picky) by myself, maybe, or with someone else, with no agenda at all. I wake up at my leisure, I wander the streets, I sit on a bench just to watch strangers walk by. I try to speak their language, I try their food, I gaze in shop windows. Perhaps I visit the tourist spots, perhaps I don't. I'm not rushed for anything, I've nowhere to be. It's such a beautiful dream that it causes a physical ache in my heart when I think about it.


Sometimes I look at my life and I try to put the clues together. I love words, I love foreign language, I love foreign authors. Pablo Neruda and Paulo Coelho, specifically. Their words speak to my heart. I skimmed a biography on Pablo and found myself in tears. I'm still not sure why. The Alchemist was published the year I was born. This feels important to me. This book about following the path that will lead to your dreams, about recognizing the signs, about putting the clues together. I wish I had faith enough to pour my soul into something I was passionate about and not worry that it was the wrong thing. I always thought I'd be sure of things, and that's how I would know they were right. As I get older, I'm starting to realize I might die without ever having been sure of a single thing.



Why why why? Why did I get into this debt? Why can't I even come close to paying it off? Why does it feel like there's a glass wall between me and my dreams? I can see them, but they're still no more attainable than images behind my computer screen. But all the signs say that if they are my dreams, I can reach them. There is a way. I need to take risks, but I don't even know what risks to take. The Bible says "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord chooses his steps" (proverbs 16:9). The same thing I've been hearing all along. Look for the signs, they are there, but I can't see them. Is this all crazy talk? Am I disillusioning myself to believe that my ridiculous dreams are possible? Am I completely naive? Or am I a warrior of the light? Will my ultimate happiness come from doing what others said I could not? What I thought I could not?

I really wish I knew.

seventeen

"What is a warrior of light?

Warriors of light keep the spark in their eyes.

They are in the world, are part of other people’s lives, and began their journey without a rucksack and sandals. They are often cowards. They don’t always act right.

Warriors of light suffer over useless things, have some petty attitudes, and at times feel they are incapable of growing. They frequently believe they are unworthy of any blessing or miracle.

Warriors of light are not always sure what they are doing here. Often they stay up all night thinking that their lives have no meaning.

Every warrior of light has felt the fear of joining in battle. Every warrior of light has once lost faith in the future.

Every warrior of light has once trodden a path that was not his/hers. Every warrior of light has once felt that he/she was not a warrior of light. Every warrior of light has once failed in his/her spiritual obligations.

That is what makes them warriors of light; because they have been through all this and have not lost the hope of becoming better.

That is why they are warriors of light.
Because they make mistakes.
Because they wonder.
Because they look for a reason – and they will certainly find one."

- Paulo Coelho