The unfairness, tragedy and irony of life is sometimes too great for me to believe. I desperately want thing to work. Things to make sense. And I believe that whenever I feel unsettled, depressed, disheartened or generally at odds with myself, I go through a million different things as to why that could be. And typically, it's a different situation every time. But it basically always, in my experience, ends up being the exact same thing at the heart of the matter: It shouldn't be this way.
And I won't spend pages lamenting things I cannot change and I will not let the uneasy sadness get to me. I understand that that is life and that no amount of raving or ranting will change this very nature of life. But I refuse to simply accept it. I will not let it get to me, I will not be crippled by my anger, but I will not pass it off. Don't get me wrong; I acknowledge the futility of hurling myself against facts of life that are beyond human control and will never change. I have learned that part of dealing with something is getting beyond the inherent unfairness, because agonizing over it will alter nothing.
But I will not cave in either. I believe that if one loses sight of the irony, if one fails to see a better life, that one may live more contentedly; they undoubtedly suffer far fewer nights of tossing and turning. However, without realizing the tragedy of life, one cannot seek to make it better. If you do not have to fight against the harsh reality of the world to be happy, then I wish that you never have to. And most of the time, I've become capable enough that I do not have to. But in the times when I do, when it all seems so shallow, so dingy, so fragile to the point that hopelessness threatens to consume, it is then when I decide that life is that way- but that it is what we make out of this place that matters.
I am broken and I am messed up in more ways than I probably know. I would like to be a strong and helpful person, someone to rely on, a good friend, a good person, intelligent, resourceful, caring. I know in some, if not all of these ways, I fail. Maybe it's lying to myself, maybe I'm just sugarcoating, perhaps this is indeed why I am so deft at rationalizing. I see the atrocious things the world has to offer- the sadness, the pain, the irony- and the quieter but far more frightening things- the loss of hope, the bleakness, the emptiness, the loneliness- and I know there are depths I have not seen and hope to never see.
That world is real, but so is the happiness, the friendship, the lazy day spent cuddling in bed, the numbers that save you and the drive to find a way to make something better out of this mess in front of us. I want that life. I don't want to look ahead and see only despair. I don't want to settle. I don't want the stomach turning feeling. I am tired of being sad. I am so sick to death of fighting, of worrying, of nothingness. I recognize that these things are never going away.
So I do what I can to minimize them. I do what I can do to ignore them. And I swear, living in the dual world of recognizing and knowing but ignoring, of understanding and not accepting, of knowing I will never change life but seeing no reason to stop trying, it's difficult sometimes. It is not fair. It never will be. This post doesn't make any sense does it? I've gone back and forth between sad and happy, between resigned and optimistic, between understanding and mature and furious and angry.
Nothing ever really makes sense though, not unless it's in a text book. So you know what I want?
I want life to be fair. In lieu of that, I want to wake up happy. I want to be okay when I'm sad. I want to never, ever look ahead and see only bleakness and despair. I want to be surrounded by the people I want to be surrounded with. I want to keep the people who make the emptiness go away. I want to laugh, I want to scream, I want to spin around in thunderstorms and I want to be filled with the intoxicating feeling of being alive because when I'm not, I remember how starkly unfair life is. Life is awful but being alive is too multifaceted to be explained in any trite phrase. I do not want to be afraid. I do not want to be weak. I am resilient but not strong. Does that make sense? I want to be both. I want to be happy and stay happy. I want to suck everything I can out of life because it tries to suck everything it can out of me and the people I love.
It should be me. I sit here and I honestly believe those words, for mainly selfish reasons.
I want love and I want passion and I want laughter and I want warmth and I want brilliance and I want anything and everything that I can find beauty and happiness in. And that's an awful lot of things. I will never stop being 5 and I never want to be. It is so hard to find perspective sometimes but it will get easier. I don't want to lie and pretend till I'm almost certain it's a beautiful world. I want to believe it.
& you, all of you. you help me believe it. you do. thank you
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
as she laughed and danced through the field of graves- there i knew, it would be alright
HOs make double stranded breaks and it's sad, but the recombination afterward is more important anyway
Live forever and you'll go crazy
I swear, biology is pretty much everything a religion should be. It has answers (that tend to be right) and if you look hard enough, guiding moral principles! Except ignore Hardy-Weinburg laws. Especially about the parts about random mating. Hardy-Weinburg is not a good condition to be in. See? It even has parts to selectively ignore, like how many people ignore the tolerance part that all the holy books.
Goddamn, there was something I was going to write about and I have forgotten. What the hell? It wasn't bio, that was a random interlude. Oh I know.
You know, Grapevine Fires is a really good song. Shiznit, more random interlude. I lean on people a lot. Particularly involving my family. My pride doesn't keep me warm at night and I know that keeping it all inside doesn't help me. People be damned if they say it makes me weak. Talking about things makes them seem less scary. My head is jumbled mess of neurons firing at speeds that probably approach the speed of light, as my head makes time and distances seem less and more than what they really are. (Shit, I hate you physics!) After talking about things, I feel noticeably more organized, more calm, more collected. Sometimes it's helped by the fact that I got advice, but a lot of the time it's just because I talked it all out. I examined the situation from my side and the other side. I talked myself out of self pity and came to some conclusion.
And I'm not going to stop talking about when my father is screaming or Matthew is acting like a selfish brat or my mother is making me worry that I have to drop out of school to support the family. It helps me. I don't want to keep people out. I like them. I trust them. But I worry sometimes that I lean so hard I verge on knocking them over. That they take burdens from it that they shouldn't. And I'm sure it's not just me and I'm sure it's not just them. But I can handle all of this.
It's overwhelming to go home. Dealing with it day in and day out makes you numb to it. Counting the number of times you got called a bitch or a cunt or told to fuck off becomes a game. It all starts rolling off you, like rain on a windshield with Rainex (I think that's what that stuff is called). But I'm a big girl. I dealt with worse in high school when I was younger and had far more problems. I have more reasons to be happy. Lots more reasons.
By the way, it truly aggravates me that Tufts can't give me a good registration time. What the fuck? I want my classes, motherfuckers. If it works out, it will be so nice. So lovely.
But I did get the research job in a Huntington's Lab at MGH (!!!). It's amazing. Ever since I found out freshman year, this is what I've wanted to do. It was nice, coming to college and knowing exactly what I wanted. There is a security in knowing. Nothing else has ever appealed to me as much. It's bio or nothing, baby. Okay, or being a mother. But I intend to do both. And now, after so long, after telling myself for years through bad nights and bad days that it would be okay, that I was going to get through it for the work, that this was the bigger thing than me, after holding onto it as the one thing I could count on, I finally have it.
It's a scary thing, losing your dreams. It's the biggest relief in the world to get them back. It is indescribable. And actually getting your dreams? Well, this isn't even so much of a dream. It's determined purpose. So actually getting determined purpose?
It must be like buying your first house.
Okay I should do German now. It's so weird having a normal amount of work. I could get used to this. Very used to this. But first....what are you supposed to do with this "free time"? I went to the gym, I ate, I saw some friends, showered, read the NY Times, FML, facebooked, watched Scrubs last night...
Okay, time to go look for some new books to read
Live forever and you'll go crazy
I swear, biology is pretty much everything a religion should be. It has answers (that tend to be right) and if you look hard enough, guiding moral principles! Except ignore Hardy-Weinburg laws. Especially about the parts about random mating. Hardy-Weinburg is not a good condition to be in. See? It even has parts to selectively ignore, like how many people ignore the tolerance part that all the holy books.
Goddamn, there was something I was going to write about and I have forgotten. What the hell? It wasn't bio, that was a random interlude. Oh I know.
You know, Grapevine Fires is a really good song. Shiznit, more random interlude. I lean on people a lot. Particularly involving my family. My pride doesn't keep me warm at night and I know that keeping it all inside doesn't help me. People be damned if they say it makes me weak. Talking about things makes them seem less scary. My head is jumbled mess of neurons firing at speeds that probably approach the speed of light, as my head makes time and distances seem less and more than what they really are. (Shit, I hate you physics!) After talking about things, I feel noticeably more organized, more calm, more collected. Sometimes it's helped by the fact that I got advice, but a lot of the time it's just because I talked it all out. I examined the situation from my side and the other side. I talked myself out of self pity and came to some conclusion.
And I'm not going to stop talking about when my father is screaming or Matthew is acting like a selfish brat or my mother is making me worry that I have to drop out of school to support the family. It helps me. I don't want to keep people out. I like them. I trust them. But I worry sometimes that I lean so hard I verge on knocking them over. That they take burdens from it that they shouldn't. And I'm sure it's not just me and I'm sure it's not just them. But I can handle all of this.
It's overwhelming to go home. Dealing with it day in and day out makes you numb to it. Counting the number of times you got called a bitch or a cunt or told to fuck off becomes a game. It all starts rolling off you, like rain on a windshield with Rainex (I think that's what that stuff is called). But I'm a big girl. I dealt with worse in high school when I was younger and had far more problems. I have more reasons to be happy. Lots more reasons.
By the way, it truly aggravates me that Tufts can't give me a good registration time. What the fuck? I want my classes, motherfuckers. If it works out, it will be so nice. So lovely.
But I did get the research job in a Huntington's Lab at MGH (!!!). It's amazing. Ever since I found out freshman year, this is what I've wanted to do. It was nice, coming to college and knowing exactly what I wanted. There is a security in knowing. Nothing else has ever appealed to me as much. It's bio or nothing, baby. Okay, or being a mother. But I intend to do both. And now, after so long, after telling myself for years through bad nights and bad days that it would be okay, that I was going to get through it for the work, that this was the bigger thing than me, after holding onto it as the one thing I could count on, I finally have it.
It's a scary thing, losing your dreams. It's the biggest relief in the world to get them back. It is indescribable. And actually getting your dreams? Well, this isn't even so much of a dream. It's determined purpose. So actually getting determined purpose?
It must be like buying your first house.
Okay I should do German now. It's so weird having a normal amount of work. I could get used to this. Very used to this. But first....what are you supposed to do with this "free time"? I went to the gym, I ate, I saw some friends, showered, read the NY Times, FML, facebooked, watched Scrubs last night...
Okay, time to go look for some new books to read
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