To cry, to fuck up, and to do it all again.

I have three topics for this post, which is, yes, both ambitious and absurd.  But first, go listen to Dramamine by Modest Mouse, and Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) by Florence and The Machine, if you haven’t yet, of course.  Fantastic songs, one of which I’m writing a paper on and the second of which I wish I could possibly LIVE in. (Also, Rabbit Heart reminds me of that song from Bend it Like Beckham that’s all like “Yeah, yeah” and all cheery and shit.  Clearly you know what I’m talking about, but if you don’t, go here, please.)

This is a gift but it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

So, to start off my beautiful blog post, which I have about 15 minutes to finish before I have to dash off to my class on the other side of campus, I present you with,

Crying

I cry all of the time.  It didn’t used to be like this.  In fact, I was a freaking overcooked, tough, gnaw-y cookie.  Scrapes, bruises, fights or armageddon I would hold myself together and “womanned up”.  I was sometimes even a bitch, but let’s not get into that.

The point is, I would not cry at: sappy movies, serious movies, sad movies, happy movies, teacher movies, sport movies, tragic events, happy events, unidentified events, in front of people, not in front of people… and you get the drift.

Now?  All of the above? What happens?  Oh yes.

Whether it be joyous or maddeningly frustrating or heart-wrenchingly sad – I cry.

When I have a fight with someone, I burst into tears.

When I don’t have a fight with someone, and think I’ve offended them, I burst into silent tears in my room.

When I see a sad/happy/inspiring/depressing movie, I cry.

When I think about my life (happy or sad), I leak from the eyes.

And what, may you ask, is the cause of all of these liquid sodium atoms all bonded together with water, issuing forth from my tear ducts?

Puberty.  Fucking puberty.  Now, it’s just because I don’t feel the need to be strong for anyone though (except for myself), but also that I’m not afraid to be vulnerable.  Because I know that when the moment comes that I need to be strong – I can be.  So crying all of the time has just become a way for me to let my emotions go and move forward with my life in a blank (ish) slate.  More neutral than prior to the weeping.

Which is good.  It helps my life to stay in equilibrium, and all. It keeps me dehydrated, which I replenish by drinking lotsalotsa water.  But all in all, apart from making my face wet sometimes, I really enjoy it.  I enjoy a good cry about something sad.  Or happy.  Or whatever.

Which brings us to point number two (you like that segue)…

Changing your mind about Life

Some of my friends, boyfriends, acquaintances and other ambiguous bodily-like people in my life come to me at various times talking about “failing out of life” and changing their minds more than a hooker changes positions. I explain my perspective to them in their own terms: the more positions, the better.  The more various (and deep) places you are able to reach.  The more opportunities to discover your metaphorical orgasm.

I’ve never been a person that sticks with one thing for a very long time.  As a kid I jumped from watercolour classes to horseback riding to media arts camps on a rotating basis.  One day I’d be doing hip hop dancing, the next I would be cartooning.  The point is – I wanted to try it all, to know it all.  That quality has stuck with me through teenage-hood and is ominously following me into adulthood.  I’m still convinced it’s a good thing, to try different things.  Maybe I didn’t know I was going to be a doctor since I was 7 years old, but so what? You know how many different things I know in different themes?  Do you know how many connections I make inter-subjectually?  (That’s a word).  It’s fascinating to tie things together in my mind.

Of course fucking up something sucks, but it is usually not from sucking, but from approaching the situation improperly.  I fuck up at various endeavors.  In fact, just today I realized that I got 55% on my Natural Science midterm.  That grade SUCKS in comparison to anything I’ve ever possibly gotten in my life starting with the 2nd grade.  Seriously.  Possibly the lowest mark EVER.  But I couldn’t control the things that happened before the exam, so I didn’t worry about taking it.  What else could I have done to change my situation?  I never think cramming and all-nighters are an answer to anything because I rarely get anything done (unless it’s craptastic essays, which I do surprisingly well at 3 am).  So, I sleep, I go do the exam.  And I get a 55%.

Big. Deal.

Another thing is that I’ve switched majors 3 times, universities once.  To some people that seems scary and illogical – why would I be throwing out a year of university to “follow my dreams”? Because I have nothing else to follow.  I am not business-minded by nature, although I’m sure I could be.  I do not much care for the maths or the sciences, although I’m fascinated by them. I love history but it wasn’t getting me anywhere.  English is a different story.  I thrive on it, even when I hate reading it.  It teaches me about my writing. It lets me dive into my soul, every once in a while.

The Boyfriend is the same way – he loves learning, as do I.  About everything.  He reads calculus in his spare time and I read stories, but it’s all the same thing.  His student record isn’t pristine but it’s varied.  It’s interesting and it’s going to take him where he wants.  That’s the point.  Not rigidity. Not 100% success.  Just attempts and new routes.

Maybe I should have gone into art or become a chef or taken my ECE and not dished out more than 20,000 for my education.  But I’m doing what I’m doing because I feel it’s leading me somewhere I will be happy. And that’s the best I can do for this moment.

Worrying about whether you’re doing the right thing all of the time? It’ll just make you stressed.  Most of my friends are all young little fillies, and should relax a little and let life guide them along to what they should be doing.  Stop forcing decisions into your life that it’s not ready for.  Finish university, then think.

Now that I’ve finished my second topic however, I have no idea what I wanted to write for my third.

Hmmm…

Maybe I’ll just plug in the video for Rabbit Heart here.

Voila!

In other news, I was incredibly productive today and hope to continue being so at least until the end of the week, when I plan on falling off the edge of the world.  Or, just enjoying my weekend.  Whatever. I don’t know what’s coming up anytime soon.

Life is up in the air and for once I am revelling in that.  It’s beautiful when you don’t know what’s going on, if you just stop and watch it all happen, sometimes.

I had a fantastic conversation with a like-minded guy in my English class about Food Inc. and communism and water and Israel and that got me all hot and bothered, politically.  I loved it, and it’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone who actually knew what the hell they were talking about.  What a wonderful surprise.  The most satisfying part of a conversation is when you realize the other person is feeding off of your information with their own and it’s all a smorgasbord of knowledge all mashed up and excited, like electrons.

Thaaaaaaat’s all, folks!

Ciao. Arina.

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “To cry, to fuck up, and to do it all again.

  1. I totally understand the switching thing.Life seems to short to slog through something that doesn’t inspire, but then I think there is something to be said for gutting it out too. Though, I tend to be a grumpy, depressed mess who is impossible to live with when I try to do this.

    Like

    • I think there’s something to be said for toughing it out IF there’s something better where you’re going. If not? I don’t want to be the person that hates their day-to-day just because “business was the right thing to do”, you know?

      🙂

      Like

  2. I love that song by Florence and the Machine. My brother introduced me to this band. I like to refer to my brother as MY Patron Saint of Music. He’s always introducing me to the kewlest band ever.

    Like

    • Right? I found this on a random playlist I downloaded from a long-time livejournal friend that I checked in on. But it was like, HELLO epiphany. Now I can’t find her site anymore and am incredibly sad, but don’t have the perseverance to find her again. OH well.

      Thanks for reading!

      Like

Gripe here!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s