This place I once called home

I'm sitting in my broken chair, at the desk that's etched with all my high school thoughts and jottings, in the room that I so gladly decorated like a 12-year-old's perfect dream room harmony of magazine clippings, movie posters, and tacky picture frames, in the house I've only truly lived in for 3 short years. I am in Elkhart. I am home (but am I really?)

I used to feel like coming back home should make me feel transformed somehow. Driving my little red car down Spring Creek Trail and turning the corner at the last driveway on the left should be transporting me to the past, and I, much older, wiser, and educated, should walk through the cherry pine doorway from the garage and into the house as an out of place soul. When I spend weeks and months away, the first steps always feel this way. My ego far too changed to find any commonalities in the brand new pricey baskets my mother has displayed all along the tops of the kitchen cupboards. Nothing really looks the same. Just as I do not look the same. Just as I am not the same.

But days go by, I tell you, and as the days do pass the gap between unfamiliar and familiar shrinks. My ego, shrinks. You see I always feel I do the most growing when I'm away from this place, Elkhart I mean. Elkhart is like this forever stagnant cesspool of decaying thoughts and dreams. No one ever goes anywhere worth noting. Nothing noteworthy ever happens. And even in this little house back on Spring Creek trail, among Ox Bow County Park's lush evergreens and the constant chirping of wild birds, I am still affected. The poisonous air that intoxicates every man, woman, child, and animal is still able to seep through the cracks between windows and doorframes of our little ranch home. And I am infected.

Sometimes I am disillusioned into believing that staying in the house with keep me safe from contamination. That the fresh air of Ox Bow's evergreens have enough strength to force clear air my way, that my mood can stay above 50%, that thoughts and ideas can still move freely through my mind, but they don't. And suddenly I'm contaminated before I even know it.

Being in Elkhart makes me feel lazy, ungrateful, boring, and void of any new ideas. It can completely ruin my mood simply by being itself. It's never changing and it's never genuine. I used to love this place before I realized how dutifully it kept me here. It trapped me, made it so I couldn't breath.

The biggest question is, is this poisonous air something that truly hangs as I've suggested, in the air, or does it stem from the poisonous air I breathe out? Is it just so good at keeping things here that it keeps all of my resentment in a little bubble fitting perfectly around me wherever I go? Maybe I just hate it here, and thus a self-fulfilling prophecy is coming into play. I just can't shake the way I always feel like I digress when I'm home. People I at first was able to tolerate, I no longer can. Things I once found entertaining, I no longer do.

I know that nothing gold can stay, but is it too much to ask that my home in Elkhart, the house where I did the majority of my maturing, could keep even an ounce of gold left in it, so that I might be able to hold onto it for the full 2 weeks that I've decided to stay? Because if it doesn't...I think I may go crazy.

This is Me

I posted this originally on april 20th 2009. It's time I read through it again


Electric
I can feel it closing up
The space between
Forces inside of us
Pulling me to you
And pulling you to me

Across the room
Our eyes meet
Boy and girl
Trying to fight the force
The electricity

Feet move forward
We can only obey
Hands reach out
We do the things we want to do
We can’t fight it

Even if it’s wrong
We can’t fight it
Say what you want to say
Hide what you’re too afraid to say
It's out of our control

The words exchanged
The smiles given
It’s undeniable
Nothing can tear apart
The electricity

When I’m standing
With you
The electricity
Takes hold
Of everything.

I've Decided I'm Going to Start Using this More

friction

We were right where we left off
Your words were grinding up against me
churning like a pepper mill
I swept freckled flecks off my chest
only this time when I looked up
it was your eyes that were empty
and mine were green as grass

but as the ice fell to the bottom of our glasses
and our resistance fell to shit
blue would bleed into your empty irises
and need would swallow up
our trembling fingertips
so we could reach out
to latch the rusty hitch

And then the morning after
The center of my chest
was throbbing like a newborn's mind
just trying to absorb
every sparkling stimulus
I couldn't think of anything
no witty pun at your new haircut
or criticisms of the way you clean
your kitchen floor was spotless anyway

So when the autumn leaves rushed
up into my lingering window
brushing my eager skin
as your house went out of view
I knew that everything was different
felt different
felt bigger
than even we could understand

I know you're scared but so am I
these things aren't cast in stone
they crumble when a black cat passes
But even if this falls to pieces
you change your mind or I get bored
there will still be scars
crisscrossing down my chest
from when I tried to get inside
tried to rip apart my flesh
just enough to let you in

But maybe it's enough
Just to know you went for something
that felt like jagged edges
twisting and contorting
tearing at your core
until they wore you down to flawless marble
and afterwards
you still had the courage to try again

Word to the Wise...

...if you want to reconnect with your ex-girlfriend, don't say all the same things you said back when you were an arrogant, controlling, selfish prick. It just makes her think you haven't changed at all.

Nostalgia

I've been trying not to get too sentimental about this year ending, and up until now (the weekend before finals week) it's worked out pretty well. It's easy for me to ignore or overlook the fact that my undergraduate education is over, because I know I still have two more years here. I know at least half of my friends will still be here and a new one will be coming! (love you Bschenk) I know that all of the places that I love here, Bloomington Bagel, the Bluebird, the South Lounge in the Union, all of these places will still be here.

But as this pivotal moment in my life that is graduation is approaching, I'm realizing that I'm not just reflecting on the past four years, but the past eight years, the past sixteen years, the past twenty-three years. You think about who you were at those different times. You think about your goals and your aspirations and you wonder if you're everything you always wanted yourself to be. You wonder if you've made all the right choices, if you have any regrets, if you've grown at all.

There is a part of me that will always be a little kid, of this I am quite confident. There is also a part of me, and of this I am even more confident, that will always be a Hoosier. Indiana University, Bloomington, has been my home for four years. This is where I grew up. It has comforted me in the toughest of times and it has picked me up more times than I could ever thank it for. Honestly, I'm not sure I could have survived the last four years at any other university. The aesthetics of this campus mixed with the energy by the entire student body (even if it is just used towards partying haha) are what make me proud to call myself a Hoosier.

Thanks IU, for 4 solid life-changing years here, and I look forward to 2 more in the future.

Sociology Final Tomorrow

"The individual can only be what is possible within some specifically constructed historical world. But individuals, thus constrained, construct and reconstruct such historical worlds by exploiting the distinctive ambiguities of interaction. They bring with them to each of their interactions a unique and inner self."
-Dennis Wrong

Don't Wait

Currently listening to: "To West Texas" by: Explosions in the Sky (Friday Night Lights Soundtrack)

I've been afraid of death for a long time, I'm sure most of us are in one way or another.

I remember being 7, or very young at least, and sneaking off to my room to cry after Papoulie (Michelle Tanner's grandfather) died on Full House. One of my parents came in a few minutes later and asked why I was crying. I told them it was because Papoulie had died just like my step-grandma had died and that I was afraid to die one day. I barely even knew my step-grandma.

I think death is so scary because it makes each of us re-evaluate our lives in some ways. We don't want to believe that any day could ever be our last day. We think about what we would miss out on, what we would never get to do, and who we'd be leaving behind. Most of us fear death because we're nowhere near prepared for it.

Whenever I think about death I always think about something this really smart guy I know once said, never wait to let someone know how much you care about them. Life is far too short to spend it wrapped up in the unimportant stuff. Live everyday and love everyday and never wait to let someone know how much they mean to you....seriously, go do it right now.

R.I.P. Ryan Kerwood

Eureka

The only thing that ever makes me feel better when I'm upset, is just laying it all out on the table, saying exactly how I feel. I have to get all of those emotions out of me its catharsis its release its settling.

But the ironic thing is, the one thing I'm afraid of is letting people know how I feel, making myself vulnerable, opening myself up for the entire world to see.

How can I have my emotional release by telling someone how I feel, if I don't really want them to know?

Pups as Pets

EW gross. All my previous posts have been depressing let's kick that.

I have recently decided that I would absolutely die without a dog next year. I've never had a real pet...just a few fish, some toads, a ladybug, some hermit crabs, and a handful of mice. When I was 6 I was told I was allergic to cats and dogs and a few years later I was told that the initial reaction was just just a reaction to being tested too young..go figure. So finally the time has come. I'm about to embark on quite possibly one of my toughest journeys yet...I'm about to live alone. I'm about to have my own apartment where I won't have to worry about people hogging the freezer and I can hang up whatever Spiderman poster I want in my living room. It's going to be great, except I'm going to be terribly lonely. I really hope having a dog will help this process run a bit smoother. Basically I'm jacked. A bit nervous, but so so jacked.

I need a smaller dog of course because I'm afraid of big dogs, like Jenny's german shephard that bit me on Halloween and I cried in front of everyone (so so so not funny guys). I'm thinking Beagle? Rat terrier? Dachshund?

Fall

Figured I'd tell you, though no one reads this anyway, that I got into IU for grad school and I'll be going there in the fall. Apparently I do know what I'll be doing once I graduate. The program and school and everything should be cool, but I'm mostly just jacked that I get to stay. Part of my resistance about going to grad school was I was afraid to leave this place, but now I don't. So life is set...for now.

Theorizing

I'm 22 years old and in a little over a month I'm going to graduate. I have no idea what I want to do after that or who I want to be. I have this insane idea that I will never truly be happy until I've met "the one", and part of me believes that this will never happen either. Every time I date someone new I label them "the one". I tell myself they are perfect. They are the one that I've been looking for and I'm all set for the rest of my life. I suddenly have a plan and I'm suddenly happy. It fools me every time, because only months later I realize that this person is not in fact the one, that I have no plan whatsoever, and that I am actually unhappy. I try to make everyone I meet into the perfect and ideal person because I am in such a hurry to just have my life figured out. I'm in such a hurry to find that person who is going to save me from everything, who is going to make me happy. I put so much faith in just one person, and when it fails, I judge myself for having ever believed that one person could do everything and be everything that I plan for them to be. I judge myself for having been so wrong about that person. I judge myself for believing that any one person could ever be the one to save me, and then I judge myself for believing I ever needed to be saved.

It's true I've felt hopeless for much of my life, that true happiness might never be attainable and I'm just waisting time hunting for a person that will come along and fix everything. I can't keep putting all my faith in the chase because I rarely come away from it satisfied. I have to start finding happiness in other things, in other people, in other places. I have to stop believing that some person is going to come along and fix everything because when they leave all they do is ruin everything, and they always leave. They truly, always leave.

I think the person who has the potential to fix everything and make me truly happy, will only be able to do so after I've realized that I don't need to put all my stock in just one person in order to be happy. Only after I've realized that there are other things in this world that are capable of making me happy and of fixing things in their own way. The person will only be able to save me after I've successfully already saved myself.

But the problem with working in theories is there is no design. There is no road map to how to fix this, I must fix it myself, and that in it of itself, is of course my problem, that I'd rather someone else just fix me up than have to do it on my own. I don't know how to save myself before I'm too far gone.

NOW

I wanted to write a blog post because I haven't in forever, but this says exactly how I'm feeling better than I could ever write it (and probably in less words).

I'll tell you flat out
It hurts so much to think of this
So from my thoughts I will exclude
The very thing that
I hate more than everything is
The way I'm powerless
To dictate my own moods
-When I go Down by: Relient K

Off Track

I'm realizing more and more everyday that my perception of my life and how I feel inside of it, changes drastically from one day to the next. There are times when it is easy to succumb to laziness, wearing out the DVD's in my very large collection like its my job, and other days when I'd love nothing more than to just get out there and experience everything I've been missing out on. I keep thinking that I understand myself and the things I do in this one way, and then I go and surprise myself. I know that no one really knows who they are, and that this is the time in our lives when we're supposed to be figuring it out, but up until a few weeks ago, I thought I already knew. I thought I had everything all figured out and then it went and changed on me just like it always does.

I've realized that the constants in my life, the things I try to make into constants, rarely stay consistant, and it's the things that I forget about, the things that have been around so long that I don't even really consider them constants just, givens, that I realize are the most important things. That's when I realized, you can't make any thing, person, or action a constant. You can't force them into permanence, they just become that way, and usually once they do, you don't even realize you ever knew how to live without them, because it seems like common sense.

I've taken a lot of things in my life for granted, and I know that it's hurting me. I know that I haven't been the best anything lately, not the best friend, the best roommate, the best daughter, the best student, the best person, the best Laura. I'm not sure where I got off track or how I even let myself derail.

I don't really have any conclusions, no plans to fix everything and make it better. I'm just going to keep holding on as long as I can and hope that if I fall, someone is there to catch me.

Bad Things

The worst thing about bad things happening is you aren't prepared for them, usually. Sometimes things come totally out of the blue and completely shock you. They pull you below the surface and hold you hostage for as long as they want. You have no control, because the bad thing is what's in control. You forget what life was like before the bad thing, how happy you were, the things that could make you smile. You forget that things could ever be good and decent because they suddenly feel so horrible that you've forgotten what it means to have a 'good' day. And it's never something you get over in a few days or even a week. It's something that stays with you for months on end, that haunts you, that pops up everywhere you look, that takes every opportunity to look you in the face and say, this is what it's like to feel lonely, and this is what it's like to feel pain. And there's nothing you can do about it.

Detachment

When I was 17 something happened to me that changed my life forever. It's something I carry with me every day of my life, and it's affected me far worse than I can even fully understand. It changed me. It took me from this life of glory and drive and accomplishment and turned me into mush. It is only years later that I feel the blunt of this experience, that I truly feel it's weight. Every day I realize it's hold on me, and every day I let it grip tighter. I haven't been in control of my life for a long time, because I'm honestly not sure how to get back to that place.

There are people who were there for me at this time, some of them more prominent than others, and these are the people I consider to be my heroes. Anyone who knows my story also knows the pain I carry with me, the pain I cannot let go of no matter how hard I try, the pain that makes it hard to say, "thank you". My heroes have stayed with my over the years without thanks or praise. They have served as scapegoats for this pain, as punching bags, and in many cases did this without complaint. To these heroes I would like to finally give a well-deserved thanks. Though many of them will never read this, at least I'm throwing it out into the void, for I'm not sure I would be able to say this directly to their faces or in print.

There are some days that I see an anger in myself I know was not there the day before, and the only explanation I have, is that I was forced to grow up before I was ready. So much of who I am is rooted in this anger. It has made me skeptical, it has made me judgmental, and most of all it has made me lazy. My biggest fear is that the traits I've developed with melt into my personality forever, and all hope of being my old self again will be lost. But I've always believed that this hope, this hope of getting back to who I was before my pain, of living up to the expectations I've set for myself, I've always believed that this hope will die last, that once everything else around me has faded away, it will still be there for me to hold on to.

What I Want

I've decided I want to be a writer. About 3 weeks ago I quit all the joking around and said, ok seriously, can I make this happen. Turns out I think I can. Unfortunately if this is going to happen, if a Masters of Fine Arts (MFA) in Creative Writing is going to be in the plan (which I believe it should be), it won't be happening till Fall of 2011.

What does this mean in terms of the whole oh Idk, --I've already applied to grad school for psychology-- thing, I'm not sure yet. Maybe I'll end up changing my mind again as I often do, but I have to at least entertain the idea that I could make this work and go for it. I have to try.

When I really stopped and thought about it, I realized this is honestly something I've been prepping for my whole entire life, I just never thought it was realistic. But what I'm realizing, is you don't pick a lifestyle because it's realistic, you find a lifestyle you want and you make it realistic.

More to come.

Two Posts in One Day (...Kind of)

I admire people who are able to capture their personality in their appearance. They cut their hair some way, they paint their nails some color, they wear some unique outfit, whatever, but people say, hey check out that style man.

My style consists of jeans, a t-shirt that either A) is from high school, B) says Indiana on it, or C) is a reject from Goodwill, some cool sneakers/tennis shoes that I try my best to clash with my selected t-shirt, and most likely some random sweatshirt or fleece to top it off (which also clashes). Some days I can confidently say I purposely select colors which sort of match, but also clash, but most days I honestly just put on individual pieces that feel good, and don't consider how they'll be together.

My hair, though it is red, and I suppose that is a defining physical characteristic expressing my personality...something like that...couldn't be less defining. Out of shear laziness I typically throw some mousse in it after my shower, mostly to keep it from looking too frizzy, slightly to make it curl, but it ends up turning into this sort of frizzy-curled-fusion. This untamed mass of being hanging at my shoulders.

To really top it off I usually don't shower on a regular basis--this also out of laziness, and the fact that I don't much care about the impression my physical being has on other people...but let's be honest, people who say they don't care what other people think about then, want to give off that sort of impression, the impression that says: I care so much about what you think about me that I have to pretend I'm above it. So I'm not sure what's true really, because the truth is I do care, but the truth also is that I really am pretty lazy when it comes to that sort of thing.

I'd rather impress someone with my wit, with the way I hold my pen, with how fast I can write when I'm on a streak, with qualities I pretend to have, ones I try to practice in front of the mirror, attitudes I don't really have, with personality attributes that don't actually belong to me. I try to capture my personality in my every word, and to be honest usually I fail.

Lately

I've been impatient lately, with people, with the weather, with the internet, with stop lights, with everything. I've been on edge, short-tempered. I haven't been a pleasant person to be around. The truth is I'm bored.

See I'm the type of person who thinks they know what's best for everyone. There are people I want to sit down in a chair and tell them where they should be at, what they should be doing, and how they should be acting...but no one wants this. So until people begin to live up to my expectations, I will continue to be disappointed.I will continue to be bored, and annoyed. I will continue to sit cross-legged on the other side of the room, making judgments, mapping out what they should have said next, instead of the crap that already came out.

I wrote this next thing on March 2nd, 2009 and it really seems to be exactly how I am feeling now. maybe the in between held some improvements. but i'm not really that optimistic.

I am always punishing people for their imperfections, and then loving others for theirs. This is, in fact, an imperfection of mine, to see the beauty in some, and not in others, to be intrigued only to the point of real extremities, and not the little things that we see so often everyday in books and magazines. I am bothered by this everyday monotony and I am bored with it, and thus I write off those who fall below my scale of interest or punish those that I am stuck with who do the same. Either way, to be boring and to be close to me is something of an anomaly.

I'm sure this is all very annoying to read, and I probably sound a bit like a bitch, but at least I'm acknowledging it.

P.S. Listen to "Set the Fire to the third bar" by Snow Patrol