The Digital Age.

Isn't it weird...in this age of technology...that you can GET so much more information than you're supposed to have?

Ok, so maybe this will make me seem like a stalker...I've accepted that.

But you can look up a lot about a person, and you can know things they haven't told you. And then you have to bloop right back into real life, and what do you do with that information? You kind of have to pretend you don't know anything about it. But you do. And that's strange.

I know it's a curse of the digital age or whatever, but that's NOT what I'm talking about. I'm talking about how that affects PEOPLE. And relationships. And how you function, day to day.

I just think it's strange that you can go about your life and live and interact and think nothing has changed in a relationship and then you see something online (with a tag date of..I don't know, a few hours or days ago, or something) and realize it's actually been there, running like an undercurrent, and you'd been going on like nothing happened and that person has actually been feeling however their blog or status says but you never knew because they never said anything and you never picked up on it and you never saw it til just now.

Does that mean emotions in this digital age aren't real until you see them on your feed?

Or when you actually know something BECAUSE it IS posted, but you don't see it in real life, do you say something? To try to help, to let them know you're there? Or do you ignore it cause they seem fine in real life and you don't want to look like a stalker?

What's real? Which? Internet and posts and blogs or talking and seeing. You can't deny that both have validity, and you CAN'T deny that we live in BOTH worlds. It's just a question of which do you take cues from when.

That's so, so totally twisted.

You make your past your past.

High school feels very far away to me right now.

It is, you might say. But what I mean is it feels infinitely farther than two years away.

I feel like a completely different person. Like the feelings I had then and the reactions I had then and how I did things and the THINGS I did...that were all so completely, completely paramount then--felt like the MOST important thing, then...are the unfaded mark on the wall when you take down a picture that's been hanging for a long time. They're just transparent spectres I can put my hand through.

And I feel like most of the people I knew then are in the same boat.

And here are the facts: We've grown up. All of us. Or maybe this is more accurate: We've changed.





Sometimes, I want to go back.

Sometimes, I wish really, really hard that I could take my life and transport it back. Back. Not because it was the best time of my life or because my life sucks now. (I definitely realize high school wasn't gold-coated. I'm perfectly happy looking forward too. And I know the whole "live in the moment" "just accept reality" stuff. Valid, all)

It's just because, for nostalgia's sake, I want to feel what that life is like again. To be that person again. Like trying on a halloween costume. Because, to be honest, I think I kind of forget. And I think that's a perfectly valid wish.

Sometimes, I wish it so hard it hurts.
But it never happens. And you know why?

Ignoring all the logical reasons about not being able to go back in time, it's this: Because as hard as you wish it, you can never fashion a memory into something real again.

A memory is just a intangible piece of crumbling tissue paper wafting through, always buoyed just out of reach by the breeze.

You can look at it, and it's beautiful.
But you can't catch it.
If you do, I suppose, it's only to find that it crumbles in your hand, leaving nothing but dust.

You can look back and smile and laugh and remember, but as hard as you try, you cannot make a memory be something real and living again. Just like you cannot make someone love you. If you think you have, there's a good chance you're lying to yourself.

It's sad. Sad that some things don't last. Sad that some things die. Sad that you can't really ever go back to before.
But here's the glimmer of hope: Memories, while you may always look back on them with the vague and unidentifiable pang of longing in your side, will always be there to remind you that it did--in fact--exist, once. And though you may never be able to inhabit them fully again, you can make new things. New things that are real. New things that will become memories, maybe, someday, too.

Call me crazy.

(I have no idea where this is going. I haven't really thought much about it.)

So, so often I find myself pausing. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk or in a room full of people, thinking...How the hell did I get here?

It's that moment where you look around at the place or the people and look back on every single choice you've made that's brought you to that point and you get so confused because it's not at all where you imagined you'd be or how your life would go and it doesn't at all fit in with the elaborate imagine you've constructed of yourself for yourself.

More often than not, it's more like...How the hell did I get here again?

I seem to find myself back at the same crossroads over and over and over. Despite what I think I've "learned" or the steadfast dedication I (apparently) had to never, never do (insert thing here) again. Despite whatever pain or frustration it casused me before.
It makes me wonder. Am I destined to continually follow the same ridiculous circle path--even when I can't really see the end and think it leads somewhere else? Am I even making sense right now? I don't think I am.

I continually make the same decisions, even when I should know better. I put off that paper. I go out on Saturday night. I stay up late. I have that argument. I put myself out there.
And I continually reap the same consequences. I am stressed. I am sick. I am tired. I ruin relationships. I get hurt.

Someone told me once (or maybe it was a quote) that the definition of crazy is doing the same things over and over and expecting different conquences, and it made me squirm a bit. Because honestly? I knew that was me.

I think that not learning from your mistakes is one of the worst things you can do...whether is be because you're too stubborn to pick up the pride or just too stupid to see it (though the second gets a little reprieve...until they DO realize it. Then if they ignore it, it's worse. Sadly, that's me.)

It's like...stagnation vs. dynamism. Like... the contrast of realtionships in Wuthering Heights (only not.) The same stale cycle of over and over and over vs. having the strength to break out in one bold, all-in move.

But how do you do that? I mean. How do you learn? How many times should you try before you have to conclude that nothing is changing? You don't want to give up too easily. Before you're brought to the absolute precipice and change is essential to survival?

Just call me crazy.

Time takes time, you know?

I haven't written anything here in a long time, but I've been thinking about it. I just have a bunch of free, unrelated thoughts. So. Here's what I've been thinking:

Creative Writing has truly been an experience this semester. I've never written much before because I've never FORCED myself to write...and I've never really seen what I can do. And you know what? It's more than I expected. It's challenging and stressful and hard to push myself, but it's rewarding. I've grown in a lot of ways. I've discovered different parts of myself. I've put that out there and let it be critiqued, and I've gotten better because of it. And guess what else? I've discovered that I've got some good stuff goin. And I've learned to embrace those things. And to grow.

I love fall. But I love fall in Bloomington more. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, and I just can't help but walk around campus every day and think...I made the right choice. I never question it. More importantly, I'm constantly reminded that life is beautiful. And that's a beautiful thing.

Songs are so inextricably tied to emotions. They will always take you back to that time to which they're connected. Even if it doesn't make sense. For instance the song "Bubbly" by Colbie Caliat makes me want to throw up. And it's no offense to the song. Just a thought.

There are certain days that will always force me down an introspective tunnel, and today is a day for me. These days make me look back and ask "What was I doing at this time last year? What was my life like? What was I like?"
And here's the answer I've come up with this year:
I've changed a lot. I've woken up to a lot of things, and I've accepted things. I've learned to let things go. I've learned to love myself more. I've learned to care about other people more. I've learned a little more about life and reality, and I've gotten more mature. More responsible, more assertive, more independent. More stable.
I've grown up and changed and things have changed and I feel like I'm more on the road to who I want to be and that I've got a clearer idea of what that is.
And despite what is lost in that, it's a good thing, I think. It gets me one step closer to the question that is inextricably connected to the one before that I always ask right after, and one that I think defines the pinnacle moments in my life/reflection upon it:

"What will I be doing at this time next year? What will my life be like? What will I be like?"

Stop and Stare

It's easy to get caught up in how busy life is.
It's easy to let yourself get caught up in a routine (because that's how it HAS to be or you wouldn't get done with all the stuff that needs to get done, right??).
It's easy to let yourself just walk from place to place and become numb to your surroundings because you're either walking too fast to pay attention or because you've seen it so many times that it's all so mundane.

It's easy, but don't.

That's what I've learned over the past few weeks.
I've learned that when you actually take the time you have to slow down and talk to someone from your Spanish class last semester (even when you probably should be walking to the stupid business school) you see things and people you normally don't. And the funny thing is, they're there all the time, but normally you're too busy walking to notice. If you take the time you actually DO HAVE (if you'll let yourself realize that) and slow down a little, I think you'll find that people and things actually come to you. You don't always have to seek them.
If you actually take the time to sit in the arboretum and do your reading during a break, you might actually get to SEE the ebb and flow of classes. See how empty campus can be even at 2 in the afternoon if it's the right time, and see how the sidewalks are suddenly innudated again.

A lot of my classes this semester are about seeing. Seeing from the perspective of a writer, a reader, and a photographer. My journalism professor is encouraging us to look at things in new ways. He says we tend to "tune out" the things in our lives that we see everyday and thus take for granted.

And he's right.

To the people who don't try because they think trying is beneath them:

I have something to say.
If you're making excuses and not trying because you think the stuff you have to do is bullshit or stupid or pointless, here's some news:

There will ALWAYS be bullshit in your life. There will ALWAYS be a situation you don't like. There will ALWAYS be things you don't want to do because you think they are stupid.

Newsflash.
It DOES NOT stop in high school. College has bullshit too. It's forever and ever and ever. It's part of living in society. Maybe it's part of being human. You have to put up with bullshit.

Waiting around for high school to be over...waiting for "when things actually start to matter" is actually bullshit in itself. And an attitude like that only makes you look stupid, and no one will ever give you an ounce of respect.
In fact, if you have an attitude like that, God help you. Because chances are NOTHING will ever be important enough to matter to you. When the things you thought you'd care about roll around, you'll probably start to see the bullshit and give up once again. Go you.

Trying is not beneath you. You have to put up with the bullshit to get to the important stuff. And more importantly, you have to put up with the bullshit in order get high enough to actually CHANGE the system (so don't use that as an excuse either).

Point: You're not better than everyone else. Get over yourself. Suck it up and give a damn.

But I can't make you learn this. You've gotta get it yourself. I just hope you don't wake up to realize it too late.

It feels like home to me..

This is something I wrote at camp this summer, maybe editted and added to, maybe not.



Home.
A simple word with a not-so-simple meaning.
Freshman year we had to write a poem about where we were from. I thought I understood it then, but looking back, I know there's no way I could have. I thought I knew what mattered...what made me me. But I didn't really understand. I hadn't experienced enough, lived enough to have gained the insight that allowed me to fully comprehend what the word home actually meant. The full meaning. I didn't understand that home can be more that one place (and that maybe...it doesn't have to be a place at all)--that where you are from doesn't just come from every place you've ever been and every "significant" experience you've ever had...it comes from the places and things and parts of you that have something more. That stick.

So. What is home? It's not just the place you live, obviously. But I also don't think it's just that corny "Home is where the people you love are," either. Because some people aren't lucky enough for that (After all, love is an extraordinary blessing, and having someone to love YOU isn't something you're just granted. Do you realize that?) And you can have people who love you who aren't in the same place you are. The bond that holds you together transcends both distance and time. It's not phsyical, so maybe the bond itself is a type of home...?

So maybe it's not "Home is where your heart is" but I think it's something close to that.
I've had many homes. My first house, which I don't remember much. My childhood home. This house, which I lived in shortest and in which I feel I've grown up most. IU. Forest West 227, more specifially. But other spots where I've made memories, too. Hopefully my apartment, soon. CYO camp, now. Maybe some parts of Perry Meridian High School...the Focus room, the swim team locker room. Those might sound strange, but it's true, I think. My friends' houses. Magic Forest. Random spots along the way that other people might just glance over, but which mean a lot to me.

I don't think it matters how long it's been there--for a home, I mean. I think it's more about HOW it's been there. How it shaped you and how you grew and the impact that it had..now matter what the thing is you're considering "home."
Home is like the backdrop to the drama our lives play out...and for that reason, you don't often notice how much it matters until it's gone.

So maybe you can be at home anywhere. And anything has the potential to be "home" (I know that this has a tinge of the hipster-"Everything is art, man"-vibe. Try to look past it)
Maybe the simplest way I can say it is this: Home is the places you let in. Let matter. Trust/love enough to leave a little of yourself.

To be cheesier: Home isn't where the heart IS exactly, it's the places you leave your heart.
And I'll leave you there. :)