Reflection

How much of our life is spent taking advantage of the little moments? That's all life really is, an assortment and collection of little moments that all make it significant. I wished I remembered more of the little moments of everday life. I think it is easy to forget why each day is precious. Each day is precious. As corny as that sounds. I think most often times i get caught up in the day to day events and forget to just take time to appreciate the little things. Sometimes when i am riding the bus in the morning to school or work i remember. The sun rise reminds me, or a friendly interaction with another passenger, usually a rare occasion. At one point there was a musician who would always play his flute in the bus tunnel. For a month or so in the summer time I would see him. Every encounter was pleasant and something about his cheerful hello or upbeat tune would make my day. I miss those days. I miss the days where I remembered to appreciate. I hope this reflection causes them to return soon.

How much of our communication is non verbal?

Recently I am constantly reminded of how much of human communication is non verbal. When you really think about that, it means that somehow we possess the great ability to communicate things with others without saying a single word. I am reminded of all the ways it is possible to do this, through our body language, eye contact, gestures, maybe there are other ways I can not seem to think of. Have you ever met a person where there body language seems to communicate nothing, or they are impossible to read? I wonder if that is a skill you can acquire, the skill to read other people through the way they carry themselves. I would like to think I am somewhat knowledgeable in this area, for how much people watching I do. Sometimes, when i people watch, I will make eye contact with someone and there seems to be a moment where our eyes say something to one another, but it is very hard to decipher what that message is.


My favorite time to communicate with other people non verbally is in crowded social situations. Instances when I can lock eyes with a friend of family member and we somehow know what the other is saying.


This ability to say so much by saying so little is an odd concept. I would one day like to go an entire day without a word and see if others and I were still able to communicate

I am slightly sickened

by all my journal entries that involve the topic of the opposite sex. I am especially sickened by the obvious fact that most of the entries discuss the same member of the opposite sex. I am additionally sickened to discover that over a time span of three years, I seem to have come to no new revelations in any of the entries, but instead repeatedly follow the same pattern and come to the same epiphanies. By definition then they do not qualify as epiphanies because the same sudden realizations are not new, just refreshed every few months. The best way to describe is to say I follow the same pattern, realize I am following the pattern, stop the pattern after having a so-called epiphany and then unconsciously fall back in to the pattern as the cycle persists.

Although the most recent entry about him spans at least 8 months back, I can not even bring myself to post a single one because of my deep feelings of embarrassment. Embarrassed for continually making the same mistakes and tricking myself in to thinking they were different. Embarrassed for wasting so much time and energy obsessing and pining over someone who probably never really cared. How could I have spent my time instead? How would my life be different now if from the first warning sign I just stopped? In some weird way I am following the same pattern again. Another entry devoted to the same member of the opposite sex. The same guy that has multiple entries written in his honor from the past four years. Cheers to devoting my adolescent heart to someone who never gave a crap.

Lack of Control

I hate when things are out of your control. When you are unable to institute any kind of change in a particular circumstance and you just have to embrace the unknown and uncontrolable nature of the situation. Some people enjoy this aspect of life. They like not knowing where there life is headed and waiting for the surprise outcome of situations. I, on the other hand, am not one of those people. I like to know what is going to happen before it does, or being able to influence situations when I desire. So for me, it's scary and unsettling when I have to knowingly enter a situation where I possess no say. I do not enjoy the unknown, or maybe it's not that I do not enjoy it, but on top of liking to be in control I am extremely impatient. Extremely. I have peeked at birthday presents and loath the word "maybe" or the phrase "I don't know yet." HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW YET??? WHAT does maybe even mean?? I like firm answers, black and white, clear cut. I do not value indeciseveness because I experience less stress when things are known and decided.



So the current situation, for which i do not feel comfortable citing specifics, contains many of the elements I find unnerving. There are too many maybes, too many unknowns, and too much waiting involved in this whole process. It is a serious excercise in restraint for me to not naturally revert to my normal reaction, which is to just become frustrated and shut down. Normally when I revert back into this behavior, I simultaneously shut out the people involved. I am doing my absolute best to not do that this time around, but it is proving to be very difficult. It's hard to correct behavior, even when you know that behavior does not best serve you. So, i guess at this present moment in time I will have to settle with having a lack of control over the present situation.

Waiting

I am probably one of the most impatient people on the planet earth. If I didn't know how to fall asleep in cars or occasionally exercise self restraint I would be the little kid in the car constantly asking, " are we there yet? are we there yet?!"

So here I sit waiting patiently, but not really. I will check my phone every five seconds to see if I have a missed called or text message, even though my phone has not left my side in the last three hours since we last spoke. What is soon? What does that word even mean? I am unsure, but it feels like frickin forever on this side of things.

As I sit here, trying to distract myself by writing this blog post I begin to set myself up for disappointment. This seems to be a habit of mine. As I grow older I have begun to realize that I almost always expect at this point to be let down. Yes, he said soon, but soon could mean tomorrow by his definition. It would not be the first time there was a miscommunication of this sort.

Soon, what is the definition? Within short period of time; promptly or quickly. Does nearly three hours qualify as soon? Maybe in the scheme of life it is a short period of time. In that time span I could have watched two disney movies, or gone to the gym, or finished half my homework by three hour definition of soon. This sure does feel like a long time.

My phone is still sitting in front of me with a black screen. Phone, will he call soon? Phone, will he call soon?

Mental Breaks Through Work

I work, all the time. When I am not working at one job, I am working at the other and it is beginning to feel overwhelming. I am one of those people that constantly needs to be busy though, otherwise I get too much in my own head and bury myself into a mental depression. I have a tendency to over think EVERYTHING and when I have too much time, I over think more than usual. I can not remember a time in my life when I did not do this, so I just have to accept it as a natural part of my personality. Those who know me well find this quality about me endearing, okay not endearing, but they tolerate it, and joke about it. I am drifting off onto a tangent. Anyway, work. Work distracts me from my thoughts and lets me slip into another mode of operation where my actions reflect the people and the company I work for. I appreciate this part about work because in a weird way it allows to become a person that's constantly cheery, upbeat, and helpful. I am not sure I would be this way ALL THE TIME with people if work did not encourage these traits within me. Work keeps me from slipping into my own thoughts because I can not afford to be distracted by anything other than the task at hand. So while work feels overwhelming at the moment, I guess my point is that I am thankful it saves me from my own thoughts when I desperately need the mental break.

hello

We Don't Get Along Because We Are Too Alike

I don't recall the first time I heard someone say to me, "Well, maybe you don't get along because you are too alike." I do remember thinking they were crazy because how could I not get along with someone who I had a lot in common with?

This is what I later came to realize. We may not get along with those who we have a lot in common with, because the parts we have in common are the bad "parts". We all have those bad parts. Okay, well they are not actual bad parts, but they are the parts of ourselves that we wish were not there. Our annoying habits, our compulsive behaviors, our short tempers, whatever we name them to be, we call them bad. When we are around people who just annoy us to the depths of our being, I've later discovered that it's because their personalities remind me too much of my bad parts.

to be continued

I need you to decide

I need you to decide
To make up your mind about where we are going and what we can be
About where you see you and if it includes me
If I can be a part of your future, I would just like to know

I need you to decide
So I can make the map for my life
Draw out my plans on paper in ink
If along the way our paths may intertwine

I need you to decide
So the pain within me can finally subside
The heartache and anxiety may finally come to an end
If you could just tell me if you want me

I need you to decide
Will you be with or without me

Back to the Days of Cheerleaders and Football Stars

Philosophy Intro to Logic homework. Summary for English 101 on a reading. Too many chapters of astronomy 100 to catch up on. Endless stream of popping soda cap sounds and a tangible sleepy silence. Rows of illuminated in flight tv screens and an unwelcome blast from the mini air vents above. Unfriendly stares from 14b for the irritation of my constant fidgeting and indecisiveness from what to pull from my bag. I could be focusing on all these minor or major (aka homework) distractions but I am more concerned with whom is in 10f. 6'1'' at least, perfect build, casually dressed, and armed with a charming smile that's been known for trouble.

He probably thinks I am creepy. Probably thinks I fantasized about him in high school. That I wished he would dump his petite 115 pound cheerleader girlfriend and tell me he fell for me when we shard the same film studies class. He probably thinks I find his cute little smile heart melting and that all I want is for him to request a seat change so we can share the next two hour and forty minutes plane ride together. He probably wonders why the hell I had to go and approach him when he was perfectly content with peeking glances at me and turning away. He probably thinks all of these things and for at those thoughts concerning me, he'd be spot on.

I hate to admit that when confronted with the awkward situation of running into people from high school, I immediately revert back to high school like behavior. It registered instantly who he was then, who i was then. Then, that's who I became. I stared, like I did in high school. My body temperature rose and put into a hypnotic state where I became incapable of forming sentences, a rare occurrence. Anyone who knows me, knows I am a talker. I felt us both trying to decided on the appropriate response to the situation.

Disregarding the others presence was not a feasible option after we made eye contact. Now the next question became, who will break the silence?

After standing in line, one man behind him for two minutes it was clear I'd be initiating operation awkward, "What have you been doing since high school?" small talk...

"Nick?" I whispered.

"Hey...," he slowly replied.

"Arianna," I said.

"Right, sorry. I thought that was it. Small world?"

"Yeah, headed back to Seattle?"

"Yep, yep. You, what about you?"

"Yeah, just down here visiting my dad."

"Your dad, that's cool. Yeah, I just went and saw Madeline at school."

"Oh nice, so you guys are still together. That's great."

side note: Madeline would be Nick's high school sweetheart. The 115 pound petite cheerleader he won't let go of. She should have left him long ago though, after the first time he cheated. But apparently you can cheat on someone countless times and still have them be the love of your life.

We continued with our small talk for a little while longer, before we both boarded the airplane and were separated by our seat assignments. Like I said, I secretly wanted him to request a seat change, but of course that did not happen. As I sit here, well not here, because now I am typing up this post, after the fact, I thought about why it mattered so much to me in high school what people like Nick thought of me. Why i secretly longed to be his crush, why i tied my self worth to a popular boys romantic interest in me. I especially wonder why all of those illogical feelings came racing forward the minute I spoke to him. Feeling like the awkward, outspoken seventeen year old I was my senior year of high school is never a sensation I like to re experience. I lived in that place for a year too long, and when it was gone, I did not miss it. So why did i let the feeling return? Why did I let such a stupid situation make feel like I was back in high school?

He didn't wait for me after he departed the plane. I thought for some reason he might, but he didn't. I did run into him again though, in the arriving flights pick up outside the airport. As he loaded his stuff into his rides car, we waved good bye and he drove off. Somehow running into Nick felt significant. In the year since I graduated high school I have somehow managed to avoid awkward run ins with previous classmates. This was the first one of its kind. Although I am embarrassed for the feelings the encounter sparked, I think it taught me compassion for the person I was then. I would rather feel compassion for that girl, the old me, than shame. But when Nick left, and I stood there waiting for my ride, I returned to my old new self, and was grateful that time of my life is now over.

California

My trip to California led me to realize why it is that people say we will one day turn into our parents. Since I live with my mom full time I am extremely aware of all the ways we are alike. We spend day in and day out together, less now than we did when I was a child, but still this has lead me to share many qualities with her. Because I grew up most of my life, without my dad around a majority of the time, on account of my parents were divorced, I never really got many opportunities to observe the qualities we did share. When i would spend summers in California, as a child, I was too young to be aware of things of that nature. Not to say that I was not an emotionally intelligent child, because I feel I was, but because more of my focus was spent on soaking up every moment with my dad.

Now that I am older, and my visits are infrequent in comparison to times in Elementary and middle school, I take in every detail of time with my dad. I try to enjoy our time together, as limited as it is, but also make every observation I didn't as a little girl. I watch my dad perform daily tasks and note his reaction and response to every situation. Not only do I then create some mental portfolio for who is he as person, but compare his own portfolio to mine and scan for similarities. Sometimes it is in our similar sense of humor, or how we freak out the second we misplace something, convinced it is gone forever. Our shared enjoyment in afternoon naps or our practical ways of thinking. I wonder if we would share more similarities than we do if he had raised me instead of my mom. Would I have acquired more of his endearing traits, or ones he wished were not inherent within him? Are we all doomed to turn out like our parents regardless of their amount of participation in our lives? And if we do, is it really such a bad thing?

I feel you

I stroked her hand. I stroked her hand and held back every urge to cry.

"Can you feel this?"

"Yeah, but you can't feel me. See, I can't hold your hand."

Looking down at her left hand, she raised it up and down with her right.

"I can't move it anymore."

She tried so hard to wiggle her arthritic hand; her crinkled and splotched immobile hand now useless.

My sadness swells in my throat, choking me. She feels it too. Her good eye sheds a tear, and another, and another. The eye which no longer opens, the right eye, is not leaking. This is usually not the case. If her eyes begin to leak, it's the right one, the one she can not open. Since it is the left, she is crying. Not the unexplainable result of her unexplainable closed right eye.

Squeezing her hand I reply, " I feel you."