Honestly, We'll Never Stop This Train ♥

Had a talk with my old man
Said help me understand
He said turn 68, you'll renegotiate
Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
Don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train

I never update here and I'm pretty sure no one reads this anymore, but I felt it appropriate to blog today, on my 24th birthday (since the last time I blogged was on my 23rd birthday).

This year is different than last year, however, because I just have this overwhelming feeling of thankfulness; thankful to be alive, to be myself, to be young, and beautiful and healthy and smart...and to just be whole and (pretty much) comfortable in my own skin. The truth is, none of us ever really know when our time is up, and God, am I thankful to add another year to my life. I think about some of my friends whom have already passed away, or my friends with incurable diseases and it makes me sad, of course, but it also makes me appreciate my own life even more. Every year that we get to live is a blessing- I understand that now. Life is less about stopping the train and more about enjoying the ride.

Don't get me wrong, my life is not perfect. I don't have a lot of the things that I want; my life isn't the perfect picture of what I thought it'd be when I was younger, or hell, even a year ago. But, I have many things I wouldn't have expected either. I have my apartment (with no roommates- finally!), I have financial stability, I have good friends who love me, I have a good family and I have a God who loves me too. My life may not be perfect, but I'm happy with it- flaws and all.

I don't think life will ever be perfect- at least, not for someone like me. It's not as though I'm never satisfied; I am- but I'm always looking for the next thing to work towards, so I'll always have some goal to reach toward in the future. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, and I'm looking forward to the seeing just what I can accomplish and learn in the next year.

Here's to an amazing journey! <3

'Cause Now I See I'll Never Stop This Train...

"So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game to find away to say that life has just begun..."
- John Mayer, "Stop This Train"

The older I get, the less appreciative I seem to be about aging. I remember when I was a child- every birthday brought me closer to exciting things- being 10 (double digits, so cool!), turning 13 (old enough to legitimately watch PG-13 movies!), sweet 16 (awesome birthday party with a limo ride), 17 (old enough to legitimately watch Rated-R movies!), 18 (old enough for voting, smoking, and sex shops...not that I did the latter two ;)), 21 (self-explanatory...).

Once I got past 21, though, I started viewing birthdays as things to dread. 22 (who cares? Nothing exciting there!), 23 (that weird in between age), 25 (oh, God...now I'm actually a "REAL" adult- I just hope I have my shit together by then), 27 (My God, I hope I'm married by then and have a sturdy job, or else I'm really screwed), 30 (it's all over...).

I'm not sure why we're conditioned to think this way- it's really idiotic, actually. Of course, with each year old you turn, there are more responsibilites to be had, but there's still things to be excited about. And when it comes down to it, what's the alternative to getting older? Dying. And I don't want that.

I was feeling kinda down about turning 23 this year. Just because, as I said above, 23 is that weird in-between age. And I know everyone that's older than me, in their forties or above, are rolling their eyes, but take a second and remember what it was like when you were turning 23. Maybe you weren't as introspective as I am, but I generally feel like 23 is the age where you're supposed to be getting it together. You should be on the road towards a career, towards complete independence. People get married at 23. People have kids, buy houses, graduate from college, start careers, buy cars...at 23. When my mom was 23, I was already two years old!

I don't feel like I'm failing at life, not at all, but at the same time, I'm no where near any of those things. And it kind of makes me feel weird to say, "I've been on this earth for 23 years, and I'm nowhere near any of those things. I WOULD be done with college, but then I took a break...and...." Yeah. It's an odd feeling.

I was feeling all depressed about it, and then I stumbled upon a Facebook fan book for the Cancer Treatment Center of America. And I saw this one comment:

"Today, I turn 25 yrs old. Thank you for making that possible."

I started crying, and am, in fact, crying now. Because here I am, lamenting, taking for granted the fact that I'm getting older, and someone is is so very thankful to even be alive another year.

I know it's cliche, but we really do only have one life. And every year we have of this life isn't promised to us. It can be a blessing, or we can let it be a waste. I'm going to make the choice to embrace each year as a blessing.

Because I'd much rather turn 23 today than face the alternative...

Next Year, Baby...

Next year, things are gonna change. Gonna drink less beer, and start all over again. Gonna read more books, gonna keep up with the news, gonna learn how to cook, and spend less money on shoes.

I’ll pay my bills on time, and file my mail away, everyday. Only drink the finest wine, and call my Gran every Sunday.

Well, resolutions, baby, they come and go. Will I do any of these things? The answer is probably, “no.”

But if there’s one thing I must do, despite my greatest fears: I’m gonna say to you, how I’ve felt all of these years…next year.

- Jamie Cullum, "Next Year, Baby"

A House By The Sea...

I wish that I lived in a house by the sea, with windows that face the ocean, and bookshelves lined with books I've read over and over again.

I wish that I lived in a house by the sea, with my record player always on, playing my favorite CDs on vinyl, because it's better that way.

I wish I lived in a house by the sea, where I'd drink hot tea all evening long, and walk along barefooted on hardwood floors.

I wish I lived in a house by the sea, and you'd be living there with me. We'd lay in bed all morning, and sit on the porch all night.

I wish I lived in a house by the sea, and we'd make love in front of the bookshelves,
on the hardwood floor. And then have tea on the rug.

I wish I lived in a house by the sea. I'm thinking I should just move to Maine.

The Difference Between You And I...

The difference between you and I is
You'll let him tear you down over and over again
Hoping he'll build you up
Though he never will
And it's not because he can't
He really just doesn't care

The difference between you and I is
You'll stick around, hoping that eventually
He'll see you for the amazing girl
That you tell yourself you are
When you're at the theater alone
And he's there holding hands with the other girl he's fucking

The difference between you and I is
You'll keep thinking something will change
And you'll look for a million little examples
Of how it is changing and how it will
When really, you're just deluding yourself with his lies
And worst yet, the lies you tell yourself

The difference between you and I is
Not a remarkable difference, really
We're both women, yearning for love
We, both, at some point fell for him
We both got our hearts bruised
But you stayed for more

The difference between you and I is
I'm not willing to sell myself short,
Tell myself lies or cry myself to sleep at night
Just on the chance
That I might actually receive the love I'm searching for
From him

But, perhaps, the biggest difference between you and I is
You're weak
And I'm strong.

A Moment. A Love. A Dream. Aloud. A Kiss. A Cry. Our Rights. Our Wrongs.

"If Tom had learned anything, it was that you can’t ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence. That’s all anything ever is. Nothing more than coincidence. It took a long time, but Tom had finally learned. There are no miracles. There is no such thing as fate. Nothing is meant to be. He knew. He was...pretty sure."
- 500 Days of Summer

I just finished watching "500 Days of Summer". I didn't really know what to expect of the movie, but I definitely didn't expect it to leave me feeling this way.

The movie is about love, but it's not a love story. Not at all. It ends with the two main characters parting ways, which is all too familiar to me, and anyone else who is single, of course. I related mostly to the character of Tom, not the female lead, Summer; I am not a pragmatic, idealist who doesn't believe in fate, or hope, and falling in love. I am Tom- hopelessly hopeful that somewhere out there is my soul mate, the person God intended for me to be with, etcetera.

Sometimes, however, I wish I was Summer.

It seems easier to be a Summer. To not wonder, "Is he the ONE?" with every other guy I date. Even when they are clearly not. But that hopeless romantic in me looks for all the signs that they could be...never the signs that they aren't.

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Of course, this is mostly spurred by the fact that: 1) I just got out of a short-lived, albeit, somewhat intense, relationship, 2) I'm doing this slightly insane thing and 3) Well...I'm always thinking about love.

I haven't been in love many times, to be truthful. The first time I ever fell in love, I was twenty years old. I didn't really know what love was yet, nor did I know how to love someone completely. And actually, I'm still not convinced that I'm fully sure on either of those things, but I digress.

My first love ended, I was hurt, time passed, and eventually, it didn't hurt anymore. I fell in love again, as documented somewhat in this blog, almost exactly a year ago. And we all know how that ended.

And that's it. I never fell in love with Fox, though I will admit to falling for him. There is a distinct difference- trust me. I never fell in love with Ian. I could have. I knew on our third or fourth night together, sitting in his car in my driveway, listening to this mix CD he had made; our hands clasped together in the dark, our lips only leaving each others as we sang the song playing on the car stereo. I knew then that I could fall in love with him, that he could fall in love with me. We never made it that far, though. I'm still not sure if I'm thankful for that. Maybe it's better to not have fallen in love with someone when it's only going to end. Then again, I can't say if Ian and I are a closed case. I don't feel like I can say anything about matters of love anymore.

On New Year’s Eve, before going out, I was reading my private journal- reflecting on the year before it ended. I then ended up on Facebook, and started reading my Wall-to-Wall with someone, and then read some of our gTalk transcripts, and my heart did a sort of back flip in my chest when I realized that I felt something distinctly different for this person than I had ever realized. I love him. And it was a weird moment, because once I had put a name on how I feel for him, it all made sense. And all the time we spent together in the past years, all of our conversations, all the times I laughed at his expense, or shared something with him, or the times that he made me laugh when I felt like crying, or all the times when I made him laugh when he felt like crying...all of it came soaring through my memories in full blown Technicolor, and I realized...I've loved him all along. No, not love at first sight, but I'd say I've loved him for much longer than I realized.

He doesn't know. He won't know.

Is it selfish of me to keep my love to myself? I don't think so. I can love him without him ever knowing- I have been for the past year or so, after all. It’s not even that I don’t think he loves me. He might. In fact, I think he does. It's a moot point, really. But in my defense, it seems neater this way, for both of us; why risk the unexplored, the unpromised, the Jonathans, the Ians, the Foxs, the Mikes...all the loves that have ended so tragically- with someone I would never want to see “the end” with? I cannot promise that it'll be right- that it would end up all fairytales, and violins and red roses- and neither could he. There's no point in touching something that almost seems too perfect to touch. At least not now.

I've been having this thought over and over again: "Unrequited love is the best love."

I don't mean that indefinitely. But, sometimes, it's better to leave some things unsaid. At least, for now.

Then again, I don't know anything about love, really. I think I do, sometimes. But when it comes down to it, love is just another mystery that I've yet to solve.

Perspective

In my 7^th grade art class, we once had to do a lesson on perspective. The lesson was an exercise in lines and dimensions- you start off with a small point in the center of your page and from there on expand out to the edges. The flat paper suddenly became a life-like cityscape; buildings shot up from the horizon line and towered above the sidewalks that I had created with my number two pencil.

I was thinking tonight about a lot of different situations I’ve encountered in my life, and it reminded me of that lesson. What started off as a small issue, a tiny black dot on in the center of my paper, often turned into a big deal- a building looming over the horizon.

There are so many moments in life when something little snowballs into a huge ordeal. It begins with a tiny fight with a friend. A disagreement with an employer. A misunderstanding between two lovers. A bill gone unpaid. A flat tire. A bad date. And so it goes.

And then something else happens. The stress from that flat tire merges into your personal life. You get into a fight with a family member. Because of that, you’re miserable and start snapping at your best friend. You’re so distraught that you oversleep and show up late for work. You get to work, and your boss berates you for being late. You’re under so much stress that you crack, and scream at your boss. You get a write up and get sent home. And now you have to figure out who will give you a ride, because your car is at home with the flat tire, and you’re not talking to your sister and your best friend, because you were so stressed from that initial flat tire that you lashed out on them.

It’s just like art project. That tiny black dot expanded into ten buildings, crowding the sidewalk…when all it was at first, was a tiny black dot.

But, see? It’s all a matter of perspective.

It’s easy to get lost on the sidewalk. It’s easy to get lost in life’s problems. Things always seem worse when you’re right in the thick of them. It’s when you step away from the street, when you step back from your own life and look at everything in perspective, when you see that it isn’t all that bad, after all.

Will the things that are bugging you now matter a day from now? Probably so. What about a week from now? Maybe. A month? Possibly not. A year? Highly doubtful.

I journal every single night for this very reason. I was re-reading my journal the other night, and I was in Fall of 2006. I was so distraught over things going on in my life, and because I hadn’t gone into good detail, when I re-read the entry now, I had no clue why I was even so upset. There were a million little things bugging me, sure. Money issues, family issues, car issues, boy issues. But nothing that has greatly impacted who I am today, or my life in the long run. It’s funny how the things we think matter so much fade into oblivion after time.

That line of buildings, after all, was originally nothing more than a tiny black dot in the center of your paper.

But, then again, it’s all a matter of perspective.