Yup. That’s the time. And about all I can contribute for creativity at this point. I’m tired. I could probably sleep, too. I stay up wayyy too late, but it’s the only time I’m by myself. My roommates go to bed wayyy too early for 18 year olds and I’m left by myself with no one watching me. I still have to be quiet, which is kinda weird. But it’s hard to turn down a few really good hours of solitude.

I think I had a point when I started writing this, but I can’t remember. So I’m just going to talk about whatever inspires me at the moment. So pretty much, any random bullshit that has the misfortune of crossing my mind at this moment and being recorded. You poor bastards.

I officially decided to delete the posts on my other tumblr because there’s really no point to them. I don’t ever look at them. However, in deleting them I saw a few that I posted right before making this on in a last ditch effort to like it. They were actually pretty thought provoking. You know, if they weren’t made to look like something just pretty enough that teenage girls would reblog in an effort to seem deep and philosophical, even though they just thought it was pretty. I digress. One of them was a guy holding up a sign saying “AT what age did you lose your compassion?” I remember reblogging it because it was totally something I would think about someone. People can be so hard, uncaring, dark, cynical, hurtful, and just mean. But it’s kind of seen as necessary in society. In order to get places and make any sort of impression on people you have to be independent, cunning, bold, spunky. These are all really good things, but it sucks that the line has been moved over to where these things involve walking all over others. We forget that others may not have the “no one gets anywhere by being nice” attitude and assume that everyone is in constant competition. So good people get screwed for the benefit of the self. And yes, I realize that it’s silly to believe that people can be nice to each other. Remember that we are all people and we all make mistakes. Help each other even if it means not getting exactly what we want all the time. People are different. Conflict is natural. Competition is natural. The phrase “nice guys finish last” didn’t just pop out of Narnia. Being an asshole or a bitch can get you farther in life. I just think that it’s really shitty that this is true. Being nice makes you weak, bitching at someone over something completely miniscule makes you independent, and none of this is questioned. Sure, whatever. I don’t expect for society as a whole to change. But damnit if that wouldn’t be fucking fantastic.

Okay that was a long and useless enough rant. Onto something a little more productive, perhaps. Fuck it this is probably all going to get scrapped tomorrow when I realize I shouldn’t write when I’m so tired as my mind has a tendency to wander even when I’m lucid. On a cherry-as-fuck note, I leave the day after tomorrow. Or, I guess tomorrow? I’m counting it as friday, so tomorrow. Fucking. Awesome. I’ve waited soooo long for this and it’s finally almost here. I just wish I was more patient of a person. Good Riddance, hell hole. You will not be missed anytime soon, that’s for damn sure. Well, I’m losing steam fast so I better go to sleep and make tomorrow come even sooner. Who knows, maybe this will even be not complete shit. Or maybe I’ll just be too lazy to delete it. ehh.

Well now that all of that emotionally built up mess is out and my mind is a little clearer, maybe I can write what I was originally planning to. lol So I spent the past 2 days finishing up the Hunger Games. Amazing. It was a really awesome series. Suzanne Collins did a really good job writing it. It’s like a glorified version of The Most Dangerous Game, which I read in 9th grade in Mrs. Pedersen’s class. It’s really captivating and I love the main character. At least in the first book. I love her A LOT more in the second book. The third one, which I just finished reading late last night, was different.

I’ll admit it, a very distinct teenage girl part of me LOVEDDDDD the book because of Peeta loving Katniss sooooo much. I loved it. It was sooo sweet, but not entirely nauseating like some teen fiction books. Which is probably why I didn’t like the third one as much. Peeta is no where to be found for like half of the book. Not idea for my feeble brain. lol When he does finally show up he is brainwashed and wants to kill her. So, sufficed to say, the element of unrealistic romance that appeals to my hormones is not there. It ends on a semi-good note, but the book itself is really kinda dark and depressing. Maybe that’s to blame for my own pessimistic mood about an hour ago. I woke up thinking about Peeta and Katniss. Not really thinking about them so much as I could not get them out of my mind. I guess that’s to be expected when you spend a whole day and a half straight reading a book in which you are so enveloped by.

Anyway, my favorite part of the third book is when Peeta starts to remember that he loves Katniss and starts to fight the brainwashing urges because he wants her to live. My favorite part, more specifically, being when she tells him to stay, to fight the urge to revert back to hating her and he weakly says “Always”. I lost it. Beautiful. I love it. I’m a total girl, I don’t care. That is absolutely fucking beautiful. Ughhh. That shit does not exist, but damn if I will not try to find it. The second book was probably my favorite because most of it is Peeta and Katniss becoming really close and it becoming obvious that she loves him too. But she drives me absolutely crazy with that shit. She WILL NOT admit it and I get so pissed because it’s obvious. Even in the third book. Until the very end. The very fucking end. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted her to just end the shitty love triangle because anyone with a brain could tell Peta loved her so much, while Dale was a monster of sorts. The very thing she was trying to eliminate, like Coin.

Ughh. This is why I shouldn’t get to into a book like this. I just want a happy ending in which everything works out. There was a happy ending, but it was kind of shadowed by the sadness of the situation. Although my own personal objection, I have to give credit to Collins for writing it this way. Books and movies create the picture that everything will work out and be perfect by the end, to the point that it’s assumed. But that’s not how life works. Things are sad. But we move on, or at least try to. And that is the message in the end. That although she cannot undo what was done to Peeta, or her sister, or anyone, she can get through it and move on knowing things will be okay. And she does end up marrying Peeta and having kids, which I loved.

Overall it was really good, but I can’t lie. I will be reading a lighter, more happy book and watching a decent amount of wildboyz and jackass to get my mind of the sadness. I think this is one of those books I will have to read a few time to come to terms and see the happiness beyond the despair that is VERY prevalent in the third book. Seriously, it’s depressing as shit. The same thing happened when I watched Tristan and Isolde. It was a beautiful story, but it made me sad for like a week. It wasn’t until I watched it another time that I was convinced that they were happy and not dwell on the fact that they should have ended up together. I just tend to feel things too strongly. This is a good thing when I am able to exist inside a book while reading it, actually residing in the story until I finish. However, the bad part is in times like this when the story affects me as if the depressing things actually happened to me or really happened. But it was a good book and I’ll just take my mind of the sadness with stuff that makes me laugh and feel better.

So on a lighter note, how awesome is stand-up? lol This is my defense mechanism. Books and stand-up. When the world gets too real, I seclude myself into one or the other. I guess stand-up is too narrow. The overall rescuer is comedy in general. Just things that make me laugh. Stand-up is one of the big ones though. I love it. I have so many memorized because of the sheer number of times I’ve seen them. It’s something I hold dear because of the instantaneous feeling it gives me. It makes me better. I won’t ever get tired of the lines that I most likely know by heart, but never fail to brighten my mood. Most of the time, the familiarity of the stand-ups are what helps. Knowing a funny part is coming up and holding on to it like a life-preserver. It doesn’t get any better. It’s a little guy-ish to like stand-up as much as I do, but I consider that a good thing. It’s one of the biggest things me and Nathan have in common. Our sense of humor. We can be cracking jokes and laughing to the point of tears while everyone in the room just watches us in utter confusion. Curran too. Maybe not in the same way, but humor is what holds our family together. It’s obvious to me, at least. through all of the bad things that have happened to our family, our ability to make a dismissive joke, laugh, annoy my mom, and having an end result of all of us laughing, even my mom under a poorly concealed smile.

It has saved me. there’s no doubt about it. Humor. I don’t know how people live such serious lives. I never could. That’s why I look at this place and wonder what ever made me think I wanted it. Serious people, walking around stuck in unhappy lives. They may be able to do it, but I never could. I could never live a life knowing I was not happy. Could not laugh. That is the only thing I’m proud of myself for out of all of this. That I have not lost my ability to laugh. To live. If anything, I will be able to take this back with me and pursue the happiness that has eluded me for the past year. With my friends, family. And with laughing. My ultimate life source.

Not really. I’m sitting in a library where everyone is talking, working on projects, talking about insignificant to significant topics. It’s actually very loud. And even if they weren’t loud, the blaring notes of metal music in my ears would surely drown out any thoughts with the loud, repetitive, and completely soothing beats of drums and guitar. Pantera is very hard to beat at the moment. But it is in fact quiet time. A stark difference to the dead silence in my dorm, completely loaded with loudness. There’s just something totally endearing about sitting in a room full of people who have no clue who I am and don’t care. Especially when the alternative is to go sit in my dorm with people who know me all too well and size me up based on this knowledge. So, although it is a parade with fireworks in comparison to my dorm, the silence in my head is incomparable. Not having to wonder if my own outward silence is taken as a sign of hatred. Knowing that theirs could be taken that way. I don’t know why it’s gotten so weird. I almost know that hiding here will only increase these tensions, although it annoys that it is the case. Or maybe it is only my paranoia. Whatever the case, I can’t say I’m not excited about being home or good in less than 2 weeks. Where something as simple as losing myself in a book for a couple of days and not talking to anyone can just be seen as a personal characteristic as normal as my brown hair or height. Instead of some freakish form of bitchiness, regression, or introverted behavior as it might be taken here.

I think it’s safe to say I’ve found a new safe haven, however. There really is nothing more comforting than being in a place in which you blend in like you’re not even there. As a kid, we used to always play the game of pretending you’re something or somewhere else. I still play this game within the safe confines of my mind, but one thing we always wondered, as I assume most kids did, is what super powers we would have if we could pick only one. While the ability to fly or stretch always tempted me, my answer would always come back to invisibility. I always came to this answer because I thought it would be interesting to see what people really thought when the pressure of others was lifted. What they really thought of me, for example. Plus, there’s that little matter of social anxiety or extreme shyness. I’m not entirely sure which yet. Probably the shyness, as a kid. But now I’m realizing how this answer has changed and grown with me. Or maybe I’ve realized my actual intentions that I couldn’t see then. I would want to be invisible because of moments like this. Not like I would go around naked if no one could see me or anything, but it’s extremely nice to not worry about people looking at me or judging things I do. Like sitting in bed glued to books for days on end. Books are my escape plan when I don’t want to deal with things or people. I’ll admit it. But even here, I feel like I can’t escape my circumstances entirely the way I could back home. Maybe because back home my circumstance was a bit of insecurity, fighting with friends or family, or simply missing people or the way things were. Here, however, the circumstance I’m fleeing from is all around me, smothering me in the middle of my attempt to escape. Although, I can’t deny reading did help quite a bit. My old ally never seems to let me down. Again, I guess it goes back to me just wanting to be home.

I feel like it comes back to this over and over again. Inside myself, I go around and around in a circle, always coming to the same empty feeling and always resulting in the same conclusion. That home is my only safe haven and I will be there in a short amount of time. So I should feel better knowing this and just let it go. Let the perpetual merry-go-round in my head slowly come to a stop. For some reason it won’t. I don’t know why I’m so unhappy here. I wish I did. I wish I could be so I don’t have to face the disappointment I’ve provided people with. That’s another thing I go back and forth in my head about. I know I’m probably disappointing people with my decision. That it’s a good school and I’m expected to do well and be happy, like the lighthearted college kids in movies having the time of their life. Instead I’m unhappy, creating the picture of failure I associate in my head. Failing chemistry was awful. A form of failure in its own, obvious way.  More of a slap in the face and weighing up of all my internal failures that have been building up the whole time. by the biggest failure that I cannot admit to myself is the implications of my mental state here. I’m not an unhappy person. I have no legitimate reason to be unhappy. Sure, I’ve had a hard family life growing up, but so have plenty other people. Many, in fact, having it way worse. This is why I decided a long time ago to not turn me into a sad person. There was a time when I gave into the sadness and let others see my excuses. But after that, I decided that my happiness is what would set me apart from the excuses and the people making me unhappy. It’s worked up until now, where every weapon in my arsenal is being used against me. I don’t know how to be happy here. I’ve come to terms with this. Forgiven myself for my weakness and determined that the change that may disappoint others is necessary for my own well being. A little selfish, perhaps, but I think I deserve to be happy. I think the merry-go-round abruptly stops when I consider what would happen if I wasn’t happy next year. I try not to think of it because that would imply that it is not my circumstances, but my own mentality. A mentality I decided years ago to leave behind forever, but has managed to follow me. I’ve been grappling between these two options for a long time: whether to assume I’m going to be happy simply because of the proximity to my loved ones or question the assumption.

But I’m making a decision right now. Like, literally, I just decided while writing. I’m going to be happy. I can’t let this fog take hold of another year of my life. I already feel like I’ve wasted my entire year being 18. I’m not going to do the same thing with 19. I’m young. I can do whatever the hell I want, and this isn’t it. All of the things I’ve wished I was able to do here but couldn’t I will do there. I will go on random spontaneous road trips with Svitlana. I will go see Cristina because lord knows I miss the SHIT out of her. I will be with Liliana and Georgia while they take their respective first steps, learn to talk, say my name, play with me, love me. I’ll be there. I won’t miss more than I already have. I’ll hang out with my brothers and feel what only their company can give me. Understanding and that brotherly relationship I’m starting to miss more and more. And my mom. I won’t miss more time with her. Even just writing this makes me happier. Makes that stuffy dorm room seem like only a temporary hell. The occupants will soon be replaced by Kristyn, mom, Nathan, Curran, Svitlana, Cristina, Liliana, Georgia, everyone. And who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to love someone. I can’t wait.

This is probably wayyy too long and a lot more rambling, negative and blah than I had initially planned. Honestly. But I think it was really necessary. I’ll most likely not read it again because I got it out, there’s no reason to revisit. But I’m extremely grateful that no one will see this. And that I did this in the anonymity of a library where no one knows me. No one judges me. It’s weird how the most lonely place can also be a source of weird comfort. Well that’s all for this dead horse. Better not beat it anymore.

Like I said, I’m in the mood to write for some reason. I wanted to talk about a book that I have to read for my literature class, but I decided to wait til I finished it. It’s very good though. So anyway I decided to talk about this poem. I love Robert Frost’s poems because they are usually tied into nature and tend to be a little shorter. I love this, which is why I thought of it when contemplating the book. The book is magnified within a time frame of a few hours, making everything in the book significant and straightforward. This is the same reason I love short poems that pack a lot of meaning. With longer poems you get lost and may not be able to derive as much meaning because there’s more going on. With shorter poems you are given a set amount of details and lines and the interpretation of these lines becomes more interesting. I don’t know why, but I could talk for days about a short poem rather than a longer poem. And writing all this now makes me realize how big of a nerd I really am. Oh well. I’m going for it. Suck it.

Revelation 

We make ourselves a place apart
    Behind light words that tease and flout,
But oh, the agitated heart
    Till someone really find us out.

‘Tis pity if the case require
    (Or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
    The understanding of a friend.

But so with all, from babes that play
    At hide-and-seek to God afar,
So all who hide too well away
    Must speak and tell us where they are.

-Robert Frost

Okay so this is really just awesome. When I first read it I loved it because it sounded so pretty and I got a hint of deeper meaning, but most of it was the sounding pretty part. Reading it a few times though makes it even more beautiful. Again these are just my interpretations of what he’s saying. The thing with interpretations is that no one can fully say what the author was trying to convey by writing something. But this is my take on it.

The first stanza talks about separating ourselves from others by using words and lies. By manipulating the way a person sees us, we are exempting ourselves from disappointing others. And although we make connections with other people, these connections can be faulty or deceiving because we are in control of what we tell them. The last line in this stanza is really powerful because the stanza is separated by the first two and last two lines. The first two lines are more light and airy, seeming less serious by using words like “tease” and “flout”. This lightness contrasts the heaviness of having to hide who you are. The next two lines are more serious. Coming after a “but”, you know shit’s about to get real. Frost uses “agitated” in the 3rd line which gives a negative spark back to reality, and finishes up with the 4th line that really hits home. He says “Til someone finds us out”, giving an abrupt moment of tension that parallels the title.

The title is Revelation. Revelation is associated with good ideas and realizations. The word gives a facade of positivity, which contrasts the purpose of the poem and creates tension when it is realized that the revelation is not in fact a good one. I like the name most of all because my reaction to the negative use of revelation is kinda similar to when you find out a person you assumed was good turns out to be bad. There’s that moment of shock and surprise, followed by an understanding. This ties it to life and personal experiences with people, making the poem relate-able.

I was a little ehh about the second stanza. It follows the realization in the first stanza that the person has been untrue. So from there, I took the second stanza to be saying it’s a shame when we have to use truth ourselves to inspire our friend to be true. So maybe that there needs to me a mutual trust in order for two people to be honestly and openly themselves. Up until the trust is established, people can pretend to be whoever they want until who they really are is realized. After the moment of realization, a trust can be formed after our true selves have been exposed.

The last stanza was my favorite. Frost uses the example of children playing hide and seek to show that it is natural to hide a part of yourself away until someone makes an effort to find you. He implies that we are taught at a young age that in order to stay safe to a certain extent, you have to hide yourself and see who comes looking. In that same line, he mentions God “afar”. This shows a hint of religious hope. That God hides himself to see who is willing to look. And that people assume he is simply a lie or not there, when in reality he is hiding as a test. I’m not much of a religious person, but it is nice to explore and be open to ideas about religion. I looked up whether Frost was religious or not and it says that he “threw the ball up and down about God”. This kinda makes sense with his use of God in the poem. Maybe by believing God was just hiding, always existing but out of sight at the moment, it would help him grapple with his uncertainties on the subject. The last two lines say that eventually everyone is discovered and in order to have these deep, meaningful connections with people we must be willing to stop hiding and show ourselves for what we really are, even if we don’t think it’s much to offer. This could also go back to the God thing in the previous line. He says that things can hide “too well away”, which kind of instills the doubt about God in the first place. He says in the final line that they must “speak and tell us where they are”, meaning that in order for us to believe in something so abstract we must be able to see some consequence of it or sign that it exists, which kind of defies the idea of faith and makes it obvious where his internal conflict about religion comes from. Which is an understandable viewpoint. The final line also implies that although people will try to find you, they cannot do it alone and you have to open up and allow yourself to be found.

Although the ABAB pattern of the poem is very common, I over analyze like no tomorrow and found it significant. To me, it goes back and forth, which kind of creates the image of going back in forth within yourself in order to cover up who you really are or decide whether or not to show your true colors.

Overall it’s an amazing poem and I enjoy reading it every time. Robert Frost definitely knows what he’s doing, and we salute him for it. I think that’s enough writing for tonight because it’s already getting a little sloppy and all over the place and I’m already going to have to reread it tomorrow to make sure it’s not one big pile of retarded. Plus, Wildboyz season 1 is calling my name and I’m never one to refuse. ;)

This is going to be a little annoying at the moment since my “e” key is hell bent on destroying my life. Or making me constantly have to spell check myself. Whatever the motivations, it’s not appreciated.

ANYWAY, I think I kinda realized I might be doing this whole blog thing wrong on my last one. I was completely lost about what to do, adding random pictures of pretty things and things I thought were funny. Not to mention about a million pictures of jackass and Chris Pontius. Although that’s fun, I don’t really get much out of it except some pretty pictures of animals I will one day see and work with and an unhealthy Jackass obsession (which exists without the tumblr, so that might be a moot point). This, I feel, seems a little more like me. And although I have a tendency to start things and leave them forgotten in my trail of destruction and half-ass attempts at stifling boredom, I hope this will last a little longer than the other victims. As my OCD demands, I can’t just start a new adventure without some sort of clear introduction to transition my mind. So here it goes.

The point of this blog is all for me. This sounds selfish in some aspect. I’m aware. But it’s the truth. I don’t really plan on anyone else seeing this, which makes it a little weird because I’m essentially talking to myself at the moment. Crazy or not, I don’t mind one bit. The mind goes crazy in many ways on a daily basis. Sometimes we need a hint of insanity within us to battle the insanity all around us. Which is the ultimate point of this blog, and leads us, or me, back to the title. My biggest hobby is losing myself. In anything. At first it was just losing myself for days on end in a book, until the days became fewer and I got to the point of losing myself so entirely the books passed in just a day. It’s the most stabilizing thing I know, in that it’s completely unstable within reality. But who wants reality all the time anyway? So I spend most of my time daydreaming. Imagining perfect scenarios, options, adventures, chances I could take, chances I wish I could, my future, my loved ones, anything. I lose myself within my mind because sometimes it’s just better in there. So when I do give in to this, I over-analyze books, poems, movies, conversations. Anything and everything, really. And while it can be a bad thing in some situations, I absolutely love contemplating hidden meaning and personal interpretations to things thought up by entirely different people. These “mirrors” that exist in everyday life reflect back to us what real mirrors can’t. Real mirrors show us what our clothes, makeup, face and body look like. How others see us. But mirrors in the form of other people and things and how we react to them reflect back to us who we really are, and that to me is more important than any brand name. So that is what I want to do here. Where I may not be hidden safely inside my mind, but where I can fully explore these thoughts and feelings. Save them for a rainy day. Or just rant. Whatever I want to do because hey, what the hell can you do about it? So that’s it. Another boredom inspired idea that may or may not work. Whatever the outcome, it should be a fun ride.

Also, I am not a particularly amazing writer. This is not meant in a self-depreciating “oh tell me I’m a wonderful writer” type of way. It’s not even meant for you at all. It’s more a reminder to myself for later on. I like getting my thoughts out by saying them because to me I can figure out how I really feel about it by talking and discussing it. With writing, I don’t have that option so a lot of the time I rewrite things and rewrite them until my original thought is lost because my opinion keeps changing. So whether you or I or anyone else likes my writing or interpretations, they are what they are. On that note, I’ll end this extremely long introduction and maybe start writing something else because I’m in the mood to write, for some unnatural reason.