February 8, 2012

• feedback loop

  You are beautiful,
  but you don't mean a thing to me.

  - Death Cab For Cutie, Tiny Vessels

  -+-

  'Omg, please work, Timing.  Universe, C'MON, you owe me this.  I've been saving up a LOT of brownie points!'

  SCORE

  -+-

  Sometimes, your past surprises you in the most mysteriously unexpected ways.

  -- "God, I can't believe it.  I'm just really weirded out by it."
  "That's not weird that you're weirded out.  You're okay."
  -- "Yeah, I know.  Just... god.  Weird."

  It's induced some sort of mild version of a life crisis in me.  

  It's neither logical nor does it align with my innate values, but these online journal things are for me to think out loud, right?  So I'm writing this while still flustered by this thing that should not fluster me, and now everyone knows a face that they don't know -- that I don't even know.  I don't know how long this has been the face that I don't know, but it makes no difference, because I'll never know it.  

  Shit, I'm such a riddle right now (but not really).  

  I'm still winding down from the incitement of competition, except this is undoubtedly a transient fire.  Ha!  The funny thing is that I think that you, of all people, would know how unhealthily competitive I could get sometimes.  Less so, these days.  It's actually really nice just trying to be the best that I can be.  It doesn't tear me apart like it used to.  Not like when we were a "we."  oh but anyway--

  E.g. around the corner: my first Valentine's Day in six years that I've spent alone.  That's not even the unsettling part.  It's that evidently, it won't be his.  And likewise, it's actually no biggie, because I'm not saddened or disturbed by it, and I've not been stricken into longing.  It's just weird.  It's abnormal, so of course I would acknowledge it.  It's the same level of weirdness as realizing, "So today would've been our six year anniversary.  Hm."  

  Meanwhile, I've ceaselessly wondered if I'll ever meet someone again that I can feel romantic love towards, and it's now a question in full flourish: why haven't I found someone?  It's not a question asked in longing; I've never been that girl to go, "I really need a boyfriend," and I refuse to ever be that person.  But srsly, wounds dig deep sometimes.  I've pulled out the knife, and I research regenerative medicine, so shit heals fast.  But still, there are scars underneath the skin.

  "You will always find someone, Christa.  It's an inevitability for everyone."

  I feel like it's a justified fear placed on a well-calibrated balance.  My track record is pretty amazing, after all.  In a weird, twisted way, I'm actually kind of impressed with myself.  I've peered into the world of bounty.  Meanwhile, I'm also well-stocked in hurt.  While I'm reeling, I'm doing well.

  But of course, hurt can scare a girl.  For example, I felt a ghost nearly a decade ago, and where I used to watch scary movies by myself in the dark, now I still can't watch commercials for horror films.  It doesn't detract from my quality of life on any level, but when I finish showering, I still hold my breath as I pull the shower curtain, in silent fear that when I draw the curtain aside, someone will be there standing in the middle of my bathroom.  

  You touch fire, and the burn teaches you to not touch fire again.  So I light candles in fear of torches.  I light sparklers in fear of fireworks.  I light C-4 in fear of atomic bombs.

  Yet even when I hold no match, somehow I'm still completely engulfed in flames.   What I am yet to realize is the scent of rain.  That's what I'd really want.  The crisp, refreshing feeling of rainfall against skin - against skin deformed by sparks and explosions.

  However, I am actually perfectly satisfied by these warm days, sun high in the sky, kissing my cheeks with light.  I don't need rain.  After all, I did quit my dream job to be a farmer.  I have no crops to tend to.  Because at the end of the day, there's a horizon.  There's an opportunity to be seized.  There's a butterfly.  There are remedies for scars now.

  I feel like I'm just saying a lot of nonsensical things now, and I'm just flourishing it to look less like a scatterbrained, unintelligible, enigmatic rant.  So I'm gonna give up and go back to the rigor of studying for tomorrow's midterm.

  Unless, it all actually makes perfect sense, and I'm just none the wiser.

  Sometimes, things just work out that way, don't they?

  TL;DR: OH, WTF?  oh ok.  but wow yeah damn wtf

  -+-

  Best:

  "She's pretty hot though."
  -- "I know, right?  Dammit!  Dammittttt."
  "Christa, c'mon.  Yeah, she's pretty, but that doesn't matter.  She's cute, but that doesn't mean that you're not.  For example, I'm not George Clooney, but that doesn't make me any less of a sexy beast.  So sure, yeah, she's cute.  But you're cute, too.  So it's okay."
  -- "Damn.  That was actually very pleasant and comforting.  Thank you."
  "In that case, you're hideous."
  -- "WHAT" 

  but no srsly, das pretty money

  • 7:36 pm
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