Who Am I?

listening

Who Am I?

I am the girl who listens

Who listens even when I turn my head

Away from you

I still listen

To the waves of your voice

The silent gestures of your body

Still speak loudly to me

Although their lips lie transparent

I’m listening

I hear you

I can feel the words you say

The full weight of them press against me

And those eyes

That I’ve never fully looked at

Burn through the side of my neck

I hear you

I’m listening

Though I’m writing away

Avoiding your gaze

There’s a welling up inside me

Homage to my attentive ear

And I notice your movements

I study your tone

I hear you

Every word

Unspoken and implied

I’m listening

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Jumbled Thoughts

It’s the second month of summer and I’m definitely freaking out. All these questions are rudely running around in my head and forcibly smacking into the walls of my mind. How are you paying for college, Faithe? Why aren’t you taking your online classes? What exactly do you plan on achieving in life? How are you going to get there if you can’t even find a way to pay for school? Why can’t you be a better person?

And then there goes the home run:

You know, Faithe, if you can’t get you’re life together I’ve heard the military is very inviting.

And that’s not even a question. But it is a thought I’d like to avoid…

Whenever I’m back home, here, by myself, it seems that I’m always faced with the possibility of imminent failure. “What if…?”‘s and “Why can’t you…?”‘s are always coming around to greet me, old friends reinserting themselves in my life after having been absent for so long.

And what AM I going to do? With school and money and everything? Every night I ask God for answers. Every night He listens but never responds or rather I just can’t hear Him. Occasionally, I feel as if He’s already told me and He’s just sitting in the corner, all-knowing like, staring at me, waiting for me to get a clue. On those nights I feel really stupid. On those nights I almost feel more alone.

Alone.

I have a theory that these people that I know here, my friends in this desert I grew up in, won’t matter after college. Possibly they won’t matter even sooner. I’m thinking that maybe I’m just not meant to have that kind of best friend relationship I’ve always wanted. And I’m thinking I think I’m cool with that. Trying to keep people around is serious work especially when it seems like all you’re doing is shifting apart. I’ve tried to be that person that people want to be around that they call just to talk to but I’m just not. I’m me. Nothing more, nothing less and I’m starting to realize for the first time in my life that that’s just fine. Superb even. I’m quite fond of me. Maybe too fond.

It’s odd to say, but I think I talk to myself a lot. In time of frustration (usually any trip back home) I tend to consult myself as if I were a smarter person. I think it might be an emotional issue. You know how they say you can’t be crazy if you consider yourself to be crazy because crazies don’t know how crazy they actually are? Well, if that’s the case I’m not crazy at all because I’ve contemplated my own craziness to the point of exhaustion. I’m even a bit tired of saying crazy… I think it might just be a result of being lonely for such a long time.

This summer has been an interesting one. I’m meeting my family for the first real time. Even though I’ve lived with these people all my life I’ve never actually known them. Our family dynamic was so bad for so long that I created my own little bubble in order to hide from them. I hid my feelings and my love and grew up apart from them. My siblings have always been strangers to me, my parents enemies of war and now, after 10 years of being isolated from them despite living in the same house, they’ve somehow transformed into people. This is why I so often contemplate the extent of my maybe nonexistent crazy.

I’ve diverted from the question. As I always do when a question seems too difficult to answer. What am I going to do about school? For the last days I’ve done nothing but send in applications for scholarships. It seemed such a random thought when I thought it up and yet so practical that it could have only been God pushing me in the right direction. I can only pray. I’ve got some business ideas. Things to sell. And all of it combined must be part of some greater plan, something big that I’m missing. I can wait. I’ve waited all my life for a number of things. I’ve waited all my life not to be crazy. I can wait for this. I can work for this. Another goal to work toward. I’ve also been waiting for that.

Bring it on, summer.

Thank you, FG.

Extras

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When you’re watching a television show and the main characters are conversing, but they’re taking too long to get to the point do you ever start looking at the extras in the back and wonder what they’re talking about? Like what it is the person in the background with the wheelchair is suffering of? Or why the doctor standing behind the main character is talking to his patient in the middle of a hallway? Because it’s kinda odd when you think about it. Through the television, you get to be a part of someone else’s life in some other fictional world, but really you only see a piece of it. A small piece in a gigantic world that is not our own, with different stories going on in the background, stories we never see. Just like real life, we can only view one and all other story lines we can only fantasize about after hearing them.

Just like in television, right now someone is doing something else that you will never know about. Right now someone, many someones actually, are living lives that will never directly affect you and that you’ll never care to know about. It’s interesting because it makes you realize how small we are compared to everything else, how little impact we have, how little we know about all there is to know.

A few weeks ago, or maybe not even, I passed by an old acquaintance that I had almost completely forgotten. All we could say to each other was a prolonged “Hey…” and it was the ellipses that seemed to sum up our mutual feelings. It was as if we had both completely forgotten each other’s existence and yet there we were, passing each other in the doorway of an Olive Garden. The passing made me think momentarily about all the people I have put behind me from different points in my life. All the extras roaming around in Faithe’s life story. The people who are merely there, forever stuck as static characters or maybe even less than. If I had ventured along a different path would they still be unknown to me? Are their stories worth my interest?

But I’ll never know because in every plot a path must be chosen and only one will ever fully be known to me. Other plot lines are filled with people I’ll never meet, stories I’ll never know, and paths I’ll never venture which is odd only because in my life only one plot line will ever really matter. Extras are just extra after all…

My Yang Complex

CristinaS7

I like writing because it’s a form of expression I can do completely on my own. It’s not like making a movie where I’d have to share my thoughts with others, collaborate, divide up work amongst people who may or may not agree with my direction and have the capability to question me. And it’s not like performing arts where I have to get instruction. There’s no one I have to rely on but myself, no one I have to share my thoughts with unless I choose to, and no one who has to be involved in order for it to work. I only need me and a lot of times it’s the only person that I want.

Do you ever sit and realize how contradictory everything you want in life is? I’ve been thinking about it all day. It’s crazy how big of a hypocrite I am and maybe everyone else in the world as well. I want to be successful but I don’t want to have to rely on others. I want to have a child someday but I don’t want to hold the responsibilities a parent would. I want a family but I want work to be my main motivator and priority in life. I want to share my life with someone but I also want every decision I make to be my own. I want so many things that I can’t have without having to deal with every thing I don’t want or that blocks me from having something else.

It’s weird when you realize that everything great that you can possibly have comes with a consequence that is equally as great. I suppose your supposed to live with these consequences and just focus on the positive things you’ve gained, but they say that negative outcomes affect your happiness up to 5 times more than positive outcomes do. Something has to be really really positive for you to keep it in your memory, but any subtle amount of negativity is hard to not get hung up on.

So it’s kind of like I’m constantly sifting through regrets, seeing which outcome I’d regret the least. Because I can’t have everything. I would if I could. I’d absolutely love to build a paradox machine, but I can’t. I’m no timelord. I have to pick one path or the other.

Between having a rising career or having a family, won’t I regret not having a career more? Sacrificing my life to have a child and husband has never been in the plan. I am meant to be the best so I can sprinkle the fruit of my good fortune down upon others and make an impact. A HUGE impact. My life is meant to affect the world. Yet… I can’t shake it off. That feeling that I want the other thing too. That I’ll think back on it. Regret it. Amidst my happiness and the comfort of my accomplishments. And I know I can’t have both. Not in the way I want them and not in the way that I know I will have to pursue them: with everything I have. I can’t be satisfied with having partial anything. So I have to choose. And I have chosen, but I’m still afraid of it and think of other possibilities…

Then it spirals from there. It starts with the need for love, which all people possess, and the need to have someone in my life that cares for me and wants to share their life with me. Then I think to myself, I will love him. I will love him too much. I will love him and want to give him everything, which would include a family and stupid picket fences because those are the guys I fall for. I love the ones who love family, who would make amazing fathers, who care, because I care, which leads me down the wrong road. The road of regret. The road where I don’t get my career or my gigantic pool, where I have love instead of connections. That road that leads me virtually nowhere and I can’t have that.

I am a Cristina Yang. A Cristina Yang. A Cristina Yang!

So I tend to stay away from people. I tend to stay away from interactions even when it comes to preference; writing vs making movies. I stay away. I stay away. I stay away. Because I have already thought about it and have already decided.

Which may be a regret within itself…

Love is the Ultimate Character Flaw

Throw-away-heart

Love may be the biggest character flaw, like in the history of ever.

Think about it for a sec, yeah? What exactly do you envision the perfect person to be like? I mean in order to properly build a society, a perfect society, how would every single person have to be? If you were to make a single mold?

I get that it’s not that easy to imagine. Naturally, people only regularly imagine themselves as how they’ve been and how they’d like to be, not how they would be in an alternate universe where everyone is similar. It’s understandable really. It makes perfect sense. Why would you care anyway? Nothing like that will ever happen. People like themselves too much. True. Very true. But I think it’s important because evaluation of such thoughts give important, or at least interesting, insight into the human psyche. And I like to think that’s cool enough to waste a bit of time on.

Anyway. The point is that the first thing that comes to mind is that you’d probably be bored to death, living in a world where everyone is more the same than not. Living in a grey area. And that’s because, normally, people do only think of themselves as they are. Because if you really think about it, if it were like that, if we had always been like that, we wouldn’t care one way or the other.

The thing about the world is we always think ourselves superior. The thing is that we have no one around to feel superior to so ultimately we have to feel superior to ourselves. Which is ridiculous really, and yet not so ridiculous because it’s always been done. What I’m trying to say is we always think we’re smarter than our alternate selves, that our way is better because it works for us, which sort of explains the reign of terror throughout history, doesn’t it?

We as Americans think that about ourselves and other nations. We don’t even stop after changing others’ habits and their ways of living. We don’t even consider stopping until we’ve changed their minds about their whole situation. We don’t stop until we change their minds into wanting something “better”, until we make them believe that they are inferior.

Haven’t you seen those sci-fi movies that basically captivate our whole lifestyle? Like those shows and movies and books where the main characters go to some primitive place where the natives either are all the same living in a grey mess of uncolorful, uncreative, unoriginality or they are living off of the land, devoted to culture and we come along and attempt to “liberate them” always to their eventual gratitude and concession. Always to their eventual conformity, where they finally believe in their hearts that they have been living wrong, that they have been living primitively.

I mean isn’t it a bit odd? Don’t you think it’s a bit strange? That for some reason we think all people must be unhappy unless they live the way we live and value the things we value? Isn’t it just a bit funny?

Couldn’t it be possible that other people are just fine the way they are not because they’re simply cool with having naught and living in squalor, but because some of them, not all mind you, just value different things? That others just care about different things than we do and maybe that’s completely alright? Couldn’t it be possible that those people in the sci-fi films who were living in grey houses with identical lawns and jobs they were systematically assigned were completely happy with the way they were? That they could in fact have been living completely happily STILL if you hadn’t come around and brainwashed them into thinking the lives they were living were unfulfilled? Couldn’t it be possible that those who we say live primitively are completely capable of living lives like ours but simply don’t because they chose one value over the other? Why isn’t it possible that progress can be made in more ways than one? In one way printing presses, big buildings, and democracy and in another a growing respect for tradition, a sense of community, and family ties?

Why is it that as people we believe in the value of love but don’t see it as it is; acceptance, humility, respect, and understanding? We see acceptance as a barrier against progress and humility a sign of the weak. Respect is just something we throw around to propel ourselves up the social ladder and understanding is only perspective, ours ultimately reigning supreme. See we value love, but only as an excuse for progress. What we value more than anything is superiority and love hinders that.

To the human mind, love is the ultimate character flaw.

Anonymous

Anonymous

anonymousIt’s just a lot easier to live anonymously.

If you didn’t know my name and a bit of who I was I could probably tell you everything. It would be just me and you, the internet, together forever but not familiar with each other.

If I had chosen to be anonymous I could have gotten it out by now. I could have blurted out my feelings, spread them across the floor, and said, “Look. There it is. That’s me.” And it would have been me. A faceless me. Unhindered by the fear that identity brings. Completely freed from having to be that person that I’m supposed to be. That person that I need to be. A person with their life together whose secrets and fears will forever be closeted. That person that you politely smile at when you pass by at the grocery store versus that raging lunatic you watch on tv.

But I didn’t choose to be anonymous. I didn’t choose to hide my face. I chose to be me. As real as real can get me without being in some type of immediate internet danger. Because that’s what I wanted. I wanted someone; anyone really, any person passing by, searching the web and arriving here by accident, to see me, the ME me, as I am and as I intend to be. But I think I’m afraid of something. Can anyone truly be seen as a whole? Seen without being anonymous? As a person, rather than just an idea?

I’m not sure of it.

We see people daily and don’t think of them as people. They’re not real people who make mistakes, who are vulnerable, who are hurting inside but still going about their business. They’re merely shadows of what we think life should be like. Living examples of who’s doing it wrong. Objects to pass our judgment upon. Ideas to rid us of fear. Somehow people don’t turn into people until we meet them and successfully insert them into our lives. Before that they’re expendable just like every other person we know nothing about.

Before you meet them all people are living examples of anonymity. You see their face but you don’t know their feelings. Here you know their feelings but don’t see their face. It’s backwards and somehow beautiful, but it’s not something I could possibly be a part of.

There always seems to be something missing for me, like I’m always searching to be whole and find that society has barred me from being so. I feel like a living limitation. And I know because of that, that feeling of being forever incomplete, anonymity (a word I can’t even properly pronounce in my head) couldn’t possibly be the answer.