I sit here, picking out my clothes for the bonfire, trying to decide if this year was good or bad. After contemplating it for a while, I realize that it’s been one of the best years of my life, despite the negative things that have also happened. Reasons why:
I graduated from high school.
I’ve gotten to know myself a little bit better, even though I’ve found some things I’m not so proud of.
I’ve met someone at school that accepts me for who I am. I love Manda Kruger.
I’ve become more independent, and learned to accept responsibility that’s thrown on me.
I’ve had some experiences that I’ll remember forever.
I fell in love.
Here’s to the new year, putting an end to the past, and starting fresh. Things are going to be different starting tomorrow. Scout’s honor.
This piece calms me down. It’s absolutely gorgeous.
When I recorded, I used my phone, and the quality was awful. I really want a better version, so I’ll post it later.
The violin is an amazing thing. Moreso, the relationship between a violinist and his or her instrument is one of complexity. The violinist puts an incredible amount of effort into their instrument. They make sure the bow is fully haired and rosined to perfection. They ensure the violin is oiled and clean, polished until it shines, not a streak in sight. The bridge must remain straight, and the pegs must be aligned. The strings must be of high quality, and changed every six months. If the violinist does everything correctly, including playing in the right position, the sound is incredible. Music of the highest quality possible radiates from the mahogany, filling the room with odes, symphonies, farewells, interludes, and graces. The relationship between the two is symbiotic. However, there is a catch. No matter how much you love the violin, how much time and effort you put into making your instrument the best it can be, it will never love you back. It’s a piece of wood, although it seems to be much more than that. It’s all a facade; you treat it and care for it as if it were a person, although it is no more than a well-carved piece of high quality wood, along with strings and a chin rest. It is hollow.
Relationships are difficult. They require time, honesty, understanding, and a ridiculous amount of effort. If you think caring for a violin is difficult, try caring for another person.
However, it is all worth it. Once you have found the person that cares for you the same way you care for a violin, and you compensate equally, you have found your soulmate. It is rare, and almost never happens. There is almost never a point of equilibrium in a relationship that allows the two parties involved to care and love equally. When the equilibrium is reached, you enter a small window of bliss. Then a string breaks, a peg twists, the bridge tilts. But you have to fix it. Because you have these rare moments of equilibrium, it is all worth it.
Just when I had you off my head, your voice comes thrashing wildly through my quiet bed. You say you want to try again, but I’ve tried everything but giving in. Why you wanna break my heart again? Why am I gonna let you try when all we ever do is say goodbye? I bought a ticket on a plane, and by the time it landed you were gone again. I love you more than songs can say, but I can’t keep running after yesterday. So why you wanna break my heart again? Why am I gonna let you try when all we ever do is say goodbye?
In your eyes I see myself. You are my best friend. I trust you as you trust me.
In your eyes I see myself. You are my worst enemy. I hate you as you hate me.
In your eyes I see myself. You are my biggest obsession. I long for you as you long for me.
In your eyes I see myself. You are my deepest fear. I cling to you as you cling to me.
Here’s to hoping today is a good one. Off to work on more cars.
WAIT! I never mentioned that. Yesterday I, by myself, changed the fuel filter, oil filter, and the oil in a Ford 7000. Of course, I had Andrew standing next to me telling me what to do, but that’s not the point. The point is, I did it.
And now I’m going to my dad’s to service my car, replace a few things, and put my new stereo and speakers in. :)
Is that what you call a getaway? Well tell me what you got away with. I’ve seen more spine in jellyfish, I’ve seen more guts in eleven year old kids. So have another drink and drive yourself home. I hope there’s ice out on the roads, and you can think of me when you forget your seatbelt, and again when you head goes through the windshield.
I activated my credit card today; now let’s test my self-discipline.
Today’s a better day. I feel a whole lot better, and realize the faults I’ve had these past few days, in not acting like myself.The past is the past. It’s time to live in the present and the future. I read some old journal entries, and I had written something a few months ago about the past. How dwelling on the past was a waste of time, and it’s better to focus on what’s right and front of you, along with the next move you’re going to make. For the past two days, I’ve disregarded my beliefs, but that stops now. I’m burying it in the ground, and going back to practicing what I preach.
There was a lot of clarity around two o’ clock this morning, and I’m happy.
I met Erica at Baci for lunch today, and I got to sit at the table I wanted to, without even asking. :)
Afterwards as I was driving home, I was passing by Melears, when I realized there were tons of cones and construction equipment behind it. I went over there, and saw that our spot had been completely demolished. At first I was furious, but now I see it as a good thing. Almost like in Tristan and Isolde when he burns the Roman Bridge.
Today is the 29th. Enough said.
I refuse to let my good mood slip away; it’s going to stay here for a while.
My new year’s plans are set in stone. Manda is coming to Fayetteville to meet everyone, and I am extremely excited.
As of right now, I’m slipping away into Between, Georgia, where Nonny is nursing her mother to health while falling for her best friend, Henry. She’s about to have to see her biological grandmother, and sit through a forceful roast dinner. Of course, there’s an ulterior motive.
In the meantime, Pandora is enlightening me with new music. It’s time for a change, and things are slowly falling into place. Everything’s going to be fine.
3453.) sometimes i can't tell when you're being serious or not. and when you joke around saying you're going to get with other girls or whatever, it makes me feel really bad about myself. because i hate the idea that someone else could make you happy besides me.
13792.) Every time I hear someone say something positive about you, I want to scream at the top of my lungs. They don't realize that they're falling for your disguise, being tricked by your wit and charm. I just wish they'd know the real ass you've become. How much you've treated me wrong. We were once such great friends. You're such a scumbag, don't you know?
I finished reading “Gods in Alabama”. It was the first book I’ve read in under twenty-four hours in a really long time, and I’m at loss for words. Needless to say, it was fantastic. It was a mixture of a few of my all-time favorites, a little of “The Pact” mixed with Chuck Klosterman’s sarcasm, and Sue Monk Kidd’s southern touch. The plot was so intricate and gripping, but surprisingly easy to follow. It was very descriptive and filled to the brim with imagery, but not superfluous. I was told that the plot had a bit of situational irony, that the book would go well with my current situation. To an extent, it did. I consider myself to be different from my family; I’m not a “Southern Baptist, hard-ass, insanely sweet, judgemental” woman in this case. Well not exactly. But upon further speculation, I realize that my family and I have more in common than I thought. The small, smart-ass remarks that Aunt Florence makes throughout the novel make me yearn for the same types of comments that fall out of my mother’s mouth. Their Southern Baptist beliefs make me miss debating religion and politics with my grandfather. The constant family gossip revolving around the old house reminds me exactly of the things my family discusses. Reading this book just made me appreciate my family for who they really are, although at times I disagree with them, and sometimes judge them, for not being who I expect for them to be. Family is family; you can’t choose them, and you must learn to embrace them for who they really are and move along with it.
It’s the little things that made me love this book so much.
But, like I said, I’ve been thinking a lot today. Next year is going to be different, I’ve decided. I already know quite a few changes I will be making, many inevitably leading towards a more wealthy, independent life for myself. However, this isn’t the only thing I want. I will put more effort into being there for my family, being more understanding, and establishing my opinion as worthy towards my relatives. In that vein, that includes keeping my personal life as private as possible. As said in “Gods in Alabama”, her family takes everything personally. Take her African American boyfriend for example. She states: “‘If I show up home, wanting to bring my black boyfriend to my uncle Bruster’s good-ol’-boy retirement party, they’re going to take that as personal. Like I got a black boyfriend specifically to use as spit for their soup.” Now my situation varies a little.
Dane is most definitely not black. However, he is disapproved of, mainly because of our history and how I’ve felt in the past on his account. I happen to be more forgiving than my family, and by being with him, my mother sees it as a personal attack, although in all honesty, it has nothing to do with her. She is a mixture of Aunt Florence and Gladys. She is stiff, unwavering in her judgement, but also uncontrollable, sporadic, and insane. Let’s just say that she’s a lot to handle.
But no matter how neurotic she is, she still happens to be my mother. So next year, I’m working on a multitude of things:
1. Strengthening my relationship with my family
2. Keeping my personal life “personal”
3. Staying in shape; going to yoga at least three times a week
4. Making myself a happier, more independent person
5. Trying my hardest to make my relationships work
6. Becoming more cultured; branching out of my comfort zone
7. Finishing the semester with a 3.8 GPA or greater
You are the one whose smile lights up my whole day- the one who walks with me through everything, the easy and the not-so-easy. You’re the one whose opinion matters to me more than anyone else’s… you understand my quirks, forgive my weaknesses, and know my heart. You brought something to life in me that was sleeping until you kissed it awake, and no matter how long we’ve known each other or how well I think I know you, you still surprise me. You mark a turning point in my life- everything is either before us or after us. And after is so much better, because you make my world so beautiful. I love you. Merry Christmas. <3
pull it out of the case. admire the mahogany finish, the rosin that’s coated the strings. take out the bow, tighten it up, slide the rosin up and down the horse hairs. twist the knobs, run the bow across. listen closely as the sound resonates through the room, bouncing off the walls and into your ears, into your soul. assume the position, make sure your wrist doesn’t touch the neck. and three, two, one.
a minor, c major, up an octave, harmonics, fifth position, vibrato. just let it happen; don’t even think. close your eyes, move your fingers. let it consume you, block everything else out. vivaldi, beethoven, ashokan, hymns. keep going, play your heart out. don’t stop until your arm can’t possibly move anymore. vary your style; play hard and angrily, full of passion. press the bow down as hard as you can. slip on the mute, send out the most beautiful melody you know. play the classics, then create your own. dedicate a few minutes to webber. throw in a little jazz. keep your body moving, keep your heart pumping, make your ears ring. melodic and harmonic minor debussy, handel, williams, chopin. belt out the four seasons. let the change in tone affect they way you move. accent your notes, legato, staccato. tchaicovsky, bach, brahms, wagner. create a melody that changes the world around you, making where you are here and now the best place you could ever imagine. better yet, change the world with your music.
construct your own symphony. add as many movements as you need, there’s no such thing as too long. once you grow weary, set it down. breathe in, absorb the last of the resonance within the room. loosen the bow, remove the shoulder rest. straighten the bridge, wipe off the rosin that has made a film over the mahogany. put it all away. and move on.
"I was afraid of the intensity of it. Nicolas played every song he knew. I sat there with my arms folded and my knees drawn up, my teeth chattering though we were right in the hot sun, and the sun was glaring off the little polished violin, and I watched Nicolas swaying into the music as he stood before me, the raw pure sounds swelling magically to fill the orchard and the valley, though it wasn’t magic, and Nicolas put his arms around me finally as we just sat there silent, and then he said very softly, ‘Lestat, believe me, this will pass.’"
So my mother went crazy again. I went over to Dane’s to eat Lucky Charms and watch Michael Buble, and she freaked out when she discovered my whereabouts. She lost her temper, screaming incoherent redneck phrases, and told me to come home. I got there maybe thirty minutes later, where she took my keys and my phone, and took back the coupons she gave me. Ouch. That hurts. ;)
Who I choose to spend my time with is my business, she can get over it. The fact that she believes she can sway me by taking my things away is simply pathetic, because it’s not the case at all. I’m still going to be my own person and do what I feel like. If I thought it was wrong, I wouldn’t be doing it.
I’m determined to make this work, and so is he. I told him to be patient with me, and it’s very hard for him to do. However, if he wants to make this work as much as I do, which I’m certain he does, then we will.
Now I’m killing time until I go back to school. Books, blogging, movies, other things to keep me occupied. When I get back to school, I have a plan. Getting a job comes first, which will be followed by my own cell phone plan, along with car insurance. Also, I’m going to talk to my dad about signing my car over to me. I mean, it’s mine, and if I’m going to insure it, it needs to be in my name.
This time it’s going to work. I’m doing things differently. As Thomas says, I’m being proactive, not reactive. And it’s going to pay off.
I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad, carry you around when your arthritis is bad. All I wanna do is grow old with you. I’ll give you medicine when your tummy aches, build you a fire if the furnace breaks. Oh it could be so nice growing old with you. I’ll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold. Need you, feed you, even let you hold the remote control. So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink, put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink. Oh I could be the man who grows old with you. I want to grow old with you.
What is the point of taking the path of least resistance? It’s obvious I choose not to go that way. I’d rather spend my time winding down the paths covered in branches, leaves, poison oak, with little to no sunlight for guidance. I know that when I finally reach the clearing, something much greater will be waiting for me. An oasis.
When you find someone that truly loves you for who you are, flaws and all, never let them go. But how do you know that this person feels that way? So accepting, understanding, at one with you? There is no explanation, but when you both reach that mutual feeling of understanding, you just know. It hits you in the face, and you’re overcome with this feeling that you can’t quite shake off. You know that this is it when you can imagine yourself with that person years from now, and it doesn’t scare the shit out of you. You can see the two of you moving into your first apartment together. You can see the look on his face when he tells you you’re the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. You can see yourselves married, struggling to get your careers established, but coming home to one another, knowing that everything will be alright. You can see yourselves moving out of the apartment, into your first house. You can see the two of you with children in the next room, living every moment to the fullest. You can see the two of you after retirement, anticipating the arrival of your children and grandchildren for the holidays. You can see all of these things, but not only this. You feel like it is legitimately possible, not just your imagination running wild. At this point the prospect of even so much as thinking about another man is pointless, for you have found what you want, and will do anything in your power to have this feeling continue on forever.