Sunday, January 30, 2011

Melancholy Inspiration




All of us draw our inspiration from somewhere, mine happens to be from a more tormented part of myself. That doesn't mean that 99% of the time I'm not a completely happy-go-lucky person, but that's a part of me I'm willing to share all the time, this is something I keep to myself, I guess except for the public, internet blog, lol. I'm sure there's some psychological explanation as to why some of us feel the need to express our artistic self though dramatic experiences, but whatever, it is what it is. Some people call it bipolar, manic-depressive, crazy, etc., I don't chose to label myself through any of those labels, but I do feel most connected with my inner self when I'm feeling sad or mad. For some reason when everything is going right in my life, I don't want to write poems about it, I just live it. Yet somehow the darkness and sadness in my life finds a way of making an artistic expression in me, whether through music or poetry, I find a way to make it beautiful. Some of our greatest artists, composers, musicians, actors, authors and leaders have been what most would consider "tormented." I don't look at it quite that way. I think that to live you have to embrace it all, you have to experience everything. Those of us that choose the simple, quiet life, get just that. Maybe you don't have the dips and lows, but you also don't have the peaks and highs. Just like an algebraic formula, there is a zero and on each side either a positive or negative integer. Each direction is equally close to zero. To remain on one side of zero is unbalanced. I can't explain what draws me to share and express myself when I'm feeling less than bliss, but I know that I grow from it and love it just the same. Anyways, I just wanted to offer an introspective answer to a question you all may or may not be asking yourself as you make your way through my blog. I will make a greater effort to share the more postive side of my life which is definitely the majority, but then again, not as exciting for the readers. Afterall, a tragedies make much better stories than fairy tales, but I don't see why I can't share both ;)

Sonnet # 18

Like most people, I absolutely love music. All types too, the only music I really don't care for is the screaming bands. Sorry, it's just becomes annoying background at some point. Unfortunately music was not a big part of either my parents life or mine growing up. I remember in sixth grade we did tryouts for which elective we would go into, like band, choir or theater, and I wanted to do band. I was picked as eligible for it and wanted a xylophone, but my parents couldn't afford it and there went my dream to play in the band, and so died my ability to learn to play music. Instead I went to choir, where I did advance the skill of my voice. I used to be told I had a beautiful voice, over the years I think I've lost the talent if I ever really had it. More than anything, I loved the honesty of the beautiful lyrics in the music. Even if it was wordless, the music carried a story, an emotion, that left you with an experience. I'm sure you all know what I am referring to. The way the music captures a certain element of the human experience. Growing up in Texas, I loved country music. There's a joke that if you play country backwords, you get your wife, kids, car, dog, job, etc. back, lol. Yeah, I get that, country can be rather depressing at times, but it can also lift you to cloud nine, and promise you the moon and the stars. I use country as an example because regardless of whether you like it or not, it's a very lyrical style of music. If it's a sad song, I want to split that whiskey with the guy, and if it's a love song, I imagine the world turning just for me and you. Music also serves as a time machine. It allows you to relive a memory, whether a good time or a heartbreak. It's an immortal element for humanity. Take William Shakesphere's Sonnet #18, more commonly known as "Shall I compare thee..." I had to memorize this sonnet as part of a freshman English class, and it's stuck with me for life. I'm glad I chose this one, although at the time I had no idea how far reaching it would mean for me in my life. For those unfamiliar with the sonnet, Shakespeare compares the love of his life to a beautiful summer day. However, admits that even a beautiful summer day must come to an end sometime, much like the life of his love. However, in just 14 short lines, Shakesphere's immortalized the love of his life through the very poem itself, (line 12-14) "So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see--So lives this, and this gives life to thee." Music and the experience you can relive time and time again is one of life's immortal pleasures. There are songs that are imprinted permanently to our memory, so much so that sometimes the song is "ruined" for us if we can't shake the unwanted reminder. But sometimes, it brings you back to a state of bliss, a place you long to return. I know it's a foolish comfort that a "play" or "repeat" button can relive a moment for us, but nonetheless it can. It's a beautiful gift that music is more immortal that even the hardest of stones, yet so light you can carry it in your heart.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Misunderstood

I feel as though most of the time, all of us, are misunderstood. There's nothing more frustrating to me than to feel voiceless. I'm writing this blog as a self-therapy, at least here, I can express myself. I'm not perfect by any means, but I try to live a happy and peaceful life. Just like anyone else, I have my own dreams, interests, and likings. I'm currently in a wonderful relationship with a wonderful person, but often times, I feel that I have to silence or dim myself to keep up. I know that compromise is engrained into the very nature of a relationship and most times I am happy to do so, but sometimes, I just wish I could be me. I know that my perspective is scewed, and there is always another side to the same coin, but I know that I often do things for him that I simply do out of love for his passion and interests. He is a wonderful person and does many great things for me too, but sometimes I just wish he could understand that yeah, a girl needs more. He's so considerate of others and happy to go the extra mile, but when it comes to me, it seems I should be content with just getting to come along for the ride. Sometimes his sense of egoism becomes selfish, and if I dare address it, he either flat out ignores me or twists the situation to make me seem like "the bad guy" or that I'm trying to start a conflict. I love him more than he could ever know, and although my nature as a strong woman does sometimes make me difficult, I am never intentionally brewing trouble. When my feelings get hurt I want someone to comfort me, I want someone to attempt to understand my point of view, hear me out, see where we could come to a middle ground. I am a hopeless romantic at heart, I always dream of living out a Hollywood fairytale. My dreamy disposition obviously sets me up for disappointment, I know that. But I don't think it's too much to ask that once in a while, something can be done or said just purely for me. I'll give you an example. I am a history nerd. I absolutely love the past and what we can learn from it. He on the otherhand, is Mr. Technology and interested in the upcoming future. We often clash on what we should value as humanity, and that's fine. However, I am willing to learn and appreciate things related to his interests in technology. He is mostly unwilling to do the same for me and history. I've stopped trying for the most part, hoping one day in the right crowd he might see the importance of the past, but until then, I continue to enjoy studying history. We just recently moved to Hawaii and I am fascinated in learning the local history and culture. I wanted to take a trip down to see "The City of Refuge," a place where ancient Hawaiians could seek asylum if pursued for persecution and punishment. It's part of the state parks here, and a place where many people find interesting, especially since very little remains of ancient Hawaiian history. He made it clear that this is not something that would interest him. I felt discouraged and hurt. I thought this was something we could both possibly enjoy, especially since he too seems rather interested in the Hawaiian way of life. To me it seems that he is willing to do these types of things for other people, but when it comes to me, it's just an annoyance. It's not like I asked him to go shopping or go see a chick-flick. I started to tear-up, but I hate showing that kind of emotional weakness because most people see it as a form of "copping out" when a girl cries. I told him I couldn't believe how selfish he was being, that I would lower my expectations for him. Not long after this, the conversation became heated and he decided to walk out. I told him that I only had a few hours before work and did he not want to spend them with me, to which he replied, no. It doesn't matter how angry I get, I always want to be near him, and I always want to find a resolution after cooling down from whatever emotion I experience. I wish he could feel the same. I wish he would want to find things that would make me happy, like going on a history outing. I frequently do things with him that I am maybe not particularly interested in, but nonetheless am happy to do with him. I dream of a day that he would "surprise" me with such an outing, or anything that might be done "just for me." The reason I feel "misunderstood" is because he won't try to see that I am not trying to start a conflict, I just want someone to understand why I feel the way I do without making me feel worse. I want someone to want to talk through things and not just get angry, storm out, and not ever talk about it. I feel powerless, hopeless, and alone. I'm the only one that knows how I feel and I wish that were different. Thanks for listening.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Synopsis of My Background

When I refer to myself as an "All-American" girl, it is because it's actually true. What it means to be "American" is so diverse, you have to try not to qualify! As you know more of me, you will soon learn that 1) Things are never as they appear, 2) We're all so different, it's predictable, and 3) Like it or not, we are what we are. That's not to say we are always branded to fit a mold, but it does say that without concious efforts on our behalf to change, it surely won't happen on it's own. That's why you always hear, "you live, and you learn."

Okay, so, I am a graduate student at a university in Texas, finishing my Masters in International Relations this summer. I am in my early 20's, a first generation college graduate, and have no idea what I want to do with my life once I finish school. (Sounding similar already?) I come from a very unorthodox family, I am the only daughter of an immigrant (legal-I might add) and a "good ole' boy", hard-working, blue collar father from Arkansas. I was raised bilingually in a strict Catholic home, surrounded by a predominantly Southern Baptist community in our small, small town in Texas. I have 2 brothers, one that is nearly 14 years my senior from my mother's previous marriage, and a slightly younger brother. Yes, I was the "middle child" in more ways than just literally. From an early age, I was described as a rebel. I constantly questioned authority and got myself into trouble all the time. Part of this was teen angst, while some of it was hopes of landing desperatly sought attention from my parents, I think us middle-children always get the short end of the deal when it comes to most things. I thought bad attention was better than no attention. As a child, I was considered bright, I made friends easily, but more importantly, I loved to escape myself in the stories and adventures that books provided, literally an escape from my life. (I even broke a school record for the most reading points) My mother is an immigrant from Central America, and though she claims to have left to come to a life with more personal freedoms, I felt like a slave to her old-world customs and norms expected of a "young lady." My dad, bless his heart, was constantly working long hours to support the family, and as a result, we never really developed much of a relationship growing up, though I'll always consider myself a "daddy's girl." I constantly felt torn between my reality of living like a prisoner, slaved to these tyrannical rules my mother imposed on me, and the dream of just being a free spirited, American youth. Though I appreciate the cultural experiences my mother provided, in fact, they are priceless, growing up I certainly did not feel that way. From a very, very young age I developed a passion and love for animals. Now that I am able to analyze human psychology, I know I must have been drawn to the innocence and unconditional love that animals provide. I was never allowed to have anything typical like a dog or cat, but because my parents justified having chickens as pest-control (not to mention the Feed store was across the street from my middle-school, where I would save my lunch money to buy chicks, get on the bus, go home and force my parents to let me keep them, lol) I raised chickens and loved them very much, I still do. I am thankful now to have been raised in a "country" type atmosphere, one where 'the simple things' really do count, though at the time you're thinking you're bored to tears in nowhereville, USA. While I was in elementary level, I went to private Catholic school on the insistance of my parents. I hated it the entire time, I always just wanted to be "normal." My 4th grade year, I finally convinced them that if I became actively involved in the Church extracurricularly, I could go to public schools. Like I said, I never had problems making friends, so I was ultimately very happy with the change, but because my mother was so strict, I could never do the normal things little girls got to do, like go to sleep overs, join Girl-Scouts, or anything like that, my mother always lived in fear I would get molested or kidnapped, she always made decisions based on worst case scenarios. As a result, I had a very dichotomous life. At school I could be an all-American kid, but when I got home, my life was filled with chores most American would compare more to child-labor, Spanish-soap operas I was forced to watch with my mother, while other kids were enjoying Saved by the Bell, or Nickelodeon, and most importantly, be trained to one day become the perfect housewife. I always knew I'd never grow up to be what my parents wanted. In 6th grade, I met the love of my life. He was the most beautiful thing my young eyes had ever laid sight on, and became the center of my universe. We were both from families whose parents tended to care less about our developmental needs (like caring, nuturing, quality time together) and more about meeting our physical needs, making sure "we never did without." We found refuge in each other and created a bond that would last forever. We were best friends all through middle school, though we both had mad crushes on each other (but were too influenced by our peers to ever admit it) and eventually in high school we began to date. I joined the high school debate team my Sophmore year of high school, and besides him, this too would be my escape. I was quite good at debate and my senior year even qualified and competed in the nationals (though I didn't win). I graduated in the top of my class, college bound, I thought I had finally done something to meet the approval of my parents. I was greatly disappointed, my parents didn't really care. But life didn't matter, I had him, and the world revolved around us...

This was a short synopsis of my background. I will go into much more detail as time comes and it becomes relevant to my various blog entries.
I will stop here, because my "College Chapters" are soon to come and I'd like to address them more in detail by subjects and experiences. I will also elaborate much more on my upbringing, as it all becomes vital to events in my life both past and present.

Hope to write soon, keep following.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Introduction---Why the Blog was Created

Have you ever found yourself wondering if anyone has as extraordinary life such as your own? I don't mean filled with fairytales and tragedies, but a little of it all: dreams, hopes, failures, ironies, comedies, deceptions, miracles, faith, love, anger or joys...just to single out a few. Well you should probably answer "yes". We all have a story. I set up this blog mostly for personal, therapeutical outsourcing, but also, just out of interest to see where this goes (if anywhere) and in the hopes of sharing my story and those of others whose life is just a little extraordinary. Over time, as an issue, link, thought, or advice comes to mind, I hope to share it with you all willing to read it. I hope you find my experiences as either helpful or intuative, but by no means do I proclaim to be anything other than a typical, all-American girl, or a Girl Raised In The South with a side of life...

Thank you, and welcome....to my life.