On a more less-Personal Note

I am not sure I can describe what I mean in words.  I’ve never tried to share this all with others before… no.  That’s a lie.  I have tried.  But I fail miserably at reaching out to people in all parts of my life… why would this be any different?

fermat-cant-explain

I used to write and I used to paint.  That was a time when I had something worth saying (at least emotionally unstable teenage me thought so).

Now when I sit down I struggle to make my pen or brush move.  Maybe it’s an artist’s block…

block

A friend told me once “You’re an artist, you will always be in pain.”

Is this true?  Without the pain I used to feel, I cannot create as eloquently as I did?  This saddens me.  It also bothers me.  Half my dreams are gone because I no longer allow myself to be angry.  I no longer allow myself to cry.  I no longer allow emotions to control who I am (except on those rare occasions women have no control of the hormone-Hulk that lies within).

 *INSERT GREEN FEMALE MONSTER

REPRESENTING EMOTIONS, NOT NECESSARILY

 ANGER, THAT 

DOESN’T LOOK LIKE A PORN STAR*

But could this control have also diminished the passion I used to feel? … the make-dreams-happen kind of girl I was?  Because passion would have driven me to find another muse outside of pain, right?

Or maybe I’m not living a life worth sharing.  I do admit my life is kind of lame at this point in time.

lemon-eyeroll

Some people think I’m really cool.  Others think I am apathetic.  At times, I think I’m quite numb.  I’m not sure what label to put on this state of being.  I take it for what it is.  Most of the time I really enjoy the contentment and the calm.  But it really bothers me that I can’t create art like I did… that I’m not interested in picking up my guitar… that I have nothing to write about in words…  these were things about myself that, although I shared them with no one, I was really proud of them.

Maybe one day I can mix those parts of me with these parts of me… or maybe they are no longer parts of me.  Until that day, I guess I shouldn’t worry.  I should push that out of the way and into the box containing all the emotions that I cannot handle.

lemon-eyeroll

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Read or YOU DIE

I saw this bookmark on my brother’s dresser:

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And I began to wonder… who made this list?  Why must we read anything before we die?  Why 50 books?  Why THESE 50 books?  Why did this bookmark appeal enough to my brother that he now owns it?  Has he read any of the books on the list?

Really though.

I’m a reader.  I have spent hours upon hours reading, as a little girl, as a teenage girl, as an English major in college, and now, as a graduate student.  My reasons for reading have changed, as would anyone’s reasons while they grow.  Of the books I’ve read, I can say that I have not read all 50 of those books.  Does that make me any less of a well-read person?  Of the 7 books you can see above, I’ve read 5.  Does that make me more of a well-read person?  What does “well”-read even mean?

This could be said of a lot of things..  but it’s funny how someone’s opinion determines the choices you make.  I mean… fiction… literature… it’s supposed to be completely subjective, correct?  Why is this list of 50 books any better than a different list of 50 books?  I agree that maybe this list is one full of books that portray the progression of authorial styles in literature, of genres in literature; they may illustrate important parts of history, religion.  These books may be precedents.. but that means there are other books that could be on this list.  Just because The Beatles popularized rock and roll… doesn’t mean rockers like Breaking Benjamin or Senses Fail are lessers.

If there are 50 books that you should read before you die, that means there are 50 times more that have followed and are just as great.  To me… this bookmark isn’t a representation of all the reading you should do…  or even could do.  To me, a well-read person continues to read what they can, when they can, because they can..  not just because the book is recommended and not just because the book is required.

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Video games are great.  Television is great.  These show you what the human mind is capable of creating.  But, books expose you to what your own mind can create, and encourages you to further create.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned.  Or maybe I’m a bit rebellious.  I like to think that I …. go my own way 😉  And you can’t tell me you don’t hear Fleetwood Mac in your head right now…  You’re welcome: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjh5M-PuBRs