11 Little Notes Of Life

From Thought Catalog by Alanda Kariza

I am a great believer of the saying that getting lost allows you to (re)discover yourself. Thus, I travel a lot, and most of the time alone. Sometimes I understand myself better when I get lost between historical buildings that are also landmarks of a city; and I get to love the person inside me stronger when my feet are enjoying the sand and the salty sea situated on one of Indonesia’s coasts. Today, I just finished a 10-day trip to Italy; spent a few days working and the rest, basically, wandering around the old city. Wondering about my life, being drowned amongst the crowds in front of the Spanish Steps. Imagining of the things that could have happened, or could not have happened. Recalling the events that have built my life up onto this moment and made me meet the people I’ve shared my life with; and the (expected) events that did not really make it. Plenty of things have happened, and most of them have given me a bunch of lessons to be learned. I think it would be very important to take note of them. As a reminder.

I was once a very rational person; I used to assess almost everything with my logic to give my heart a thick shield. To prevent it to be broken once again, especially when I have run out of glue to fix it. But then, love happened, and things changed. They changed a lot. But, at times, we just got to go back to square one. And start over. And be rational again.

One day, I might have a look at these notes once again; simply to prevent them from being forgotten. Consider this as a manifesto. Well, I love manifestos. I thought, someday I would have to write one like that. Perhaps that one day is going to be today. (Although these notes would probably only account a bit of it.)

1. Feelings are often real. But the words we use to express them, most of the time, are illusory.

So, carefully think about the words we choose to use. Never say “I love you” just to create an illusion of feelings, nor to make our counterpart love us. The worst of “I love you”s are those that are not wholeheartedly said. Therefore, when you say it; make sure you mean it.

2. Being young is not only about leaving a mark in the world. It is also about letting the world leaves a mark within us.

May it be through an event, or even more, through a person. So go. Fall in love, make mistakes, break your heart, and probably start over.

3. There is no such thing as “unrequited feeling.”

However, perhaps, the level of requital that we get might be higher or lower than our expectations. (Perhaps it’s best not to expect anything at all, and let it be a surprise. Let life surprises you.)

4. When God takes away something you (thought you) have, usually you are going to get something better. However, be grateful of what you have at the moment. Keep it. Protect it. Or you might end up losing something that matters the most in your life.

And try not to regret when that happens, especially when you have failed in protecting it. Let it wander to a better place, a place that would keep it safe.)

5. Never fall in love in your sleep

What usually comes as a dream might suddenly show up as a nightmare. Since then, your sleeps and naps would never be the same anymore. Be in love while you are awake. Be in love knowing the risks you take, the ‘dangers’ you will face. Be in love with a person, not the idea of him/her that you have projected yourself. Be in love with a person, not the idea of him/her that he/she tries to project for you to believe in.

6. (Always) believe that there is probably a person out there who deserves to get the best of you.

You might meet him/her soon.

7.The only person in the world who could make you happy is yourself. Before others.

I usually compliment myself with ice creams too, though. Ice creams make me really happy.

8. Most of the time, feeling exhausted also means that you have not make your life wasted for nothing.

Keep going.

9. The worst feeling that you could ever possess to someone is the feeling of possessing him/her, as if that person is completely yours.

Because you could never, ever “own” a person. You could only be happy when the person you choose to be with also chooses to be with you.

10. Words might hurt you, but words shouldn’t.

You have the sole ownership of yourself, and that includes deciding what kinds of things would offend and would not offend you.

11. Be happy.

Because you only need yourself to be happy, and because you can. Allow yourself to be happy. With or without someone else. Isn’t it such a great feeling to realize that we can be happy on our own? As soon as we have allowed ourselves to be happy on our own, then we can be happy with another person.

A Quarter Life Celebration

From Thought Catalog by Sarah Mccartan

Typically in the days leading up to my birthday, I find myself retreating and getting wrapped up in my own head a bit too much. Rather than just being my usual level of pensive, I give in to my excessive tendency to think, rethink and over think each breath and every decision I have or haven’t made throughout the past year, and then proceed to beat myself up for what I consider to be my shortcomings. I know. Healthy, right?

Rather than counting my triumphs, I add up my pitfalls. I become buried in nostalgia, and lost in longing. When milestone years loom, this behavior tends to be the worst. Meaning, I had an especially hard time last year in the days leading up to turning the big 2-5.

Oh the dreaded “quarter life crisis.” Yes, that thing.

To combat the impending crisis, I decided to throw a dance party celebration, fittingly titled, “Quarter Life Crisis//A Dance Party Celebration.” You know, just to take the edge off. It had all the staples any little girl could ever dream up—kegs of PBR, gin and cranberry cocktails, a DJ, fog machine and even a koala head with laser light eyes. Oh, and unicorns.

Now that I am almost to the other side of my so-called quarter life crisis, I can look back and say that while this year was filled with intense periods of self-doubt, as well as unexpected waves of hard to stomach surprises, scares, and losses, there was and continues to be much more to celebrate, than there is to mourn.

This year I’ve become more accepting of myself for my heart’s desires. And more willing to take the necessary steps to follow after them. And far less concerned as to whether or not anyone in the rest of the entire universe understands. If there’s been one constant in my life thus far, it’s that everything that means something to me has come with a price, or a hurdle, a seemingly insurmountable barrier, a challenge, or a chase.

I know what you are thinking. It’s the age-old “thrill of the chase” syndrome. I used to wonder the same. But I’ve realized that it runs far deeper than that. Truthfully I would rather die trying for or simply caring about something or someone that means the world to me, than live abundantly for nothing at all. This goes for my personal life, as well as professionally.

Speaking of professionally, since there’s always money in the banana stand (thank you for reminding me Arrested Development), five weeks ago I took a leap of faith and quit my full-time 9 to 5 job that I had become engulfed in for the past year and a half.

“I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, but now I’m more afraid of succeeding at things that don’t matter.”

This quote that I stumbled upon in a book I am reading by Bob Goff pretty much sums it up.

Immediately after quitting, I went through the “five stages of grief” in about, oh, 48 hours. I realized I had nearly forgotten how to function not being burnt out creatively, or being bombarded with emails constantly. I was profoundly disappointed I let myself be held hostage in a world that put money over principle, politics over human interest. I was sad feeling as though I had lost some of myself. I then became hell bent on getting that self back.

I attended a high school graduation last week. Here, my little (might as well be) sister gave her salutatorian speech. Midway through she referenced an article she had recently read with a quote we’ve all heard many different renditions of throughout our lifetimes. A quote that doesn’t get fully realized enough.

“If you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life.”

Four weeks ago I began writing full time for the alternative weekly newspaper I had been serving as a contributing arts and entertainment writer for.

This weekend I went as media to Hangout Music Festival, just a little hop and a skip from my Florida town, over the state line into Alabama. Saturday night, after watching Tom Petty perform in clear view from the front of the VIP/media area for over two hours, and as closing fireworks lit up the night sky, I felt like time was standing still. I turned around and watched people jump and splash into the VIP pool like a bad Spring Break beach party movie.

Here, amidst thousands of people on the beach, as the sweet winds of the South blew across my face, I had a moment of silence and thanks, for the privilege to soak up these sights, sounds and sentiments that I have the honor of experiencing—that others may not ever be afforded the chance to. It’s moments like these I have to pinch myself to a) make sure I am alive b) make sure I remember what these moments feel like.

With all the pain and sudden tragedy that strikes in the world, and even the loss that I’ve witnessed, or felt in my own life, there is no reason not to celebrate every single moment of simple joy that has been given to us. In fact, it’s a shame not to. My hope is that I can better remember how to embrace these moments of excitement, gladness and awe just like I did as a child, oh so sweetly, innocently and genuinely, instead of worrying about what is or isn’t coming next.

As 26 approaches, I can’t say I’m closer to figuring “it” out, but I can say that I’ve decided that “it” doesn’t look like something that’s for me anyway. I enjoy the uncertainty, the freedom, the mystery, the grace and the difficulties that make up my life, and the bumpy off-road route I’ve chosen to navigate down. I don’t know any other way to journey.

I don’t want to know any other way to live, other than being myself, and believing that’s enough. I am okay with not having anything mapped out with a level of certainty, past doing what I feel called to do, creating work that is meaningful, seeing where that takes me, going when I feel called to go, and trying to be more honest and open with myself, my loved ones, and the world around me in the process.

This hasn’t been my quarter life crisis. It’s just life, which happens to be a kick ass lesson (and sometimes crisis) in itself.

In the days leading up to 26, I am making a valiant effort to not derail from my quest of taking more moments to stop and be still and thankful, and celebrate each experience that I may never have again. Good or bad, happy or sad.

This may not be enough for you, but I’ve realized that it is for me.

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So, here I am, by suddenly coming across with this article, or maybe this exactly what I need my life at the moment. Like the writer, I am also celebrating my birthday in like four days. Whatever the reason, I’m just like her. I am currently going through my own Quarter-Life Crisis…at the ripe old age of becoming 23 years young. Age aside, during this time when you’re about to age a year older it seems simultaneously everything is ever-changing, options seems endless, decisions become complicated and TIME is just flying by.

These are the time you adjusting to become a mature adult and everything it entails, responsibility and independence (especially financially). These are the time finding a job is tough and scary because you either find something you really love or realize that you are going to start something you’d never thought you are doing. These are the years where you learn to question everything and anything, especially yourself and your capabilities. But when you DO and find some clarity in this mad, mad world or at least some sense of direction or have even one person who can relate and will support you and help you carry the weight you receiving, who will tell you, “you can do this, I’m just here!” with a little tap in the back or just a simple hug, then it make everything more bearable and a little bit easier…Eventually, all of us are struggling this type of crisis once in a while. I believe that with a bit of patience and positivity we will find that one thing.

Dead Month, Dead Me

Another article from Thought Catalog.

I wake up heavy. For a moment, I attempt to smile. But the weight of my everything presses down on me and I recede into the dark heaviness. Be happy, I think, you have no reason not to be. Work with me, I say to my brain, but it just fades away. I try so hard to control everything in my life, chasing dreams and success and recognition, but when I turn inwards it slips away. I’m always running, running, running, but I can’t define the finish line.

My body rises, slow-moving and uninspired. I go through the day, drinking coffee to jolt my body toward a normal speed. As long as I keep running, it works. When I pause to take a breath, the heaviness comes crashing on to me and I reach my hand out from under it, gasping for another distraction, something I can control. Let me study, I can master it. Give me a book or a blank paper and I’ll luxuriate in the familiar ease of it all. But when I try to study my brain? The ease becomes oppression; I can understand and intellectualize the workings of my brain but I can’t shed the pounds of feeling. I’m a doctor who knows the anatomy lying underneath like the back of my hand, but I can’t get through the fat. I’m sad because of X, I say, I will feel better if I do Y. Do Y, I say. Please just do Y.

I don’t do Y. I start to try, then fall back. What if I try doing Y and fail? Failing, vulnerability: this is not me. I long to feel loved, fulfilled. But to be loved you must accept love; to be fulfilled you must make space. I open myself to too few people, too few experiences, and then demand too much of them. I was not raised to be vulnerable: I was raised to run. I was raised in privilege and I attack myself for this, questioning my right to be anything but happy. I look at the strange projection of myself that exists on a screen, pointing to my smiles and the people that surround me: look, you are happy. Brain, be happy. Do Y. Please just do Y.

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THIS. Oh such great timing. That’s why I keep reading TC. This matter has been puzzling in my head for a while now. I'm twenty-two and I have felt like I'm in a constant state of uncertainty and despair. I always feel like I have to find my "calling" to be happy. I'm tired of waiting for the future to be happy. I'm going to be happy NOW! There is this quote I want to share that makes me feel good and always telling this to myself, "Flow with whatever may happen and let your mind be free, stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing, this is the ultimate". I also loved the phrase "...I long to feel loved, fulfilled. But to be loved you must accept love; to be fulfilled you must make space..."

Feelings We Need Words For

From THOUGHT CATALOG by P. Luna

This. Beautifully stated.

English is so bad at describing what it means to grieve. We use words like bereft or bitter or sad, or we say we have a broken heart. But none of these really get at the nuances. The words don’t seem to capture each exquisitely painful feeling.

For example, there should be a word, maybe borrowed from German, a language so good at expressing complicated mental states in a single lengthy word with many chewy consonants, for when you miss someone so incredibly, achingly much, when that person pervades every thought, every interaction, every waking moment, but you also loathe them. Because they treated you badly, or because they were too weak to be honest with you. Because you were betrayed. And because you loathe them, you hate yourself for missing that person so intensely. For missing the laughter they inspired; for wishing for the easy intimacy that you built. You hate yourself for knowing that they aren’t worth so much sadness, that such an outlay of mental energy is entirely wasted and useless. But you feel it anyway, and you cry in the shower or into your pillow or anytime something reminds you of that person. Which is all the time. There should definitely be a word for that.

There should also be a word, maybe from the French, who do existentialism so well, for the feeling of disconnection you cultivate when you walk through the streets with your headphones on, sad songs blasting into your ears loudly enough that you can pretend you are alone. You pass by other people almost without seeing them, since you can’t hear them. You walk by shops and offices on the sidewalk, going somewhere or maybe not going anywhere in particular, feeling like the music in your ears is a soundtrack to your sadness. This song makes you think of that person; that song comes close to capturing how lonely you are without them. You isolate yourself physically because you feel so isolated inside; surrounded by people, you are still alone, because you have been abandoned by that one person who made you feel somehow less alone.

English is also missing a word for how it feels when you know that person has moved on so quickly. When you find out you weren’t as important as you thought you were. When you realize that they were acting selfishly instead of caring about you, or when you understand that you didn’t really come into it at all for them, they were just doing what they needed to do. Maybe it should come from Russian, because the Russians know despair. You thought you were finally getting over them. You could almost go an hour, if you were busy with something really important, without thinking about them. Then you see a Facebook post or hear some gossip from mutual friends, and you realize you weren’t over it. Not even close. You realize you were still holding out hope that you would get back together, that there would be some way to repair the damage, to be happy again. When that hope is crushed, the fragile Jenga tower of your life tumbles down. There should be a word for that kind of defeat.

And there should also be a word for when you’re just so tired of being sad, for when you are tired of being lonely but somehow don’t know how to stop. When you’re tired of crying, tired of thinking about that person, tired of missing them. You can’t yet make yourself recognize all the bad things; remembering how you’ve been done wrong doesn’t help. But the hurt over the good things, the things you still miss so much, is a dull twist in your stomach now, instead of a gaping hole in your chest. You don’t know how to turn that off, don’t remember how to be happy. But you sort of remember happiness as it existed before that person, and you want that so desperately. You want to stop this misery that drags at your ankles and eyes and insides. You know it will take time, but sometimes just the fact of being tired of crying makes you cry. Maybe we could co-opt a word from Japanese for that, since melancholy is a specialty of theirs.

There should be an English word for all these feelings of grief. And I desperately wish they existed now, just so I could tell you, next time you ask, how I’m doing in only four words, instead of all these.

I was a shovel

**From THOUGHT CATALOG by Adam J. Kurtz**

Life is a confusing thing. You can know where you want to go, or what you want to do, or who matters most to you. Some days I know these things. Some days I don’t know anything. What keeps me going is being useful. Making and doing is at least one clear purpose and I have the power to control my own creative output.

I am not the fanciest person. I am not the smartest person. I am a product of my experiences and education. I learn as I go, I pick up new habits, skills, and mannerisms, some taught, some copied, and some completely by accident. That’s basically life, you do your best, “your best” grows and develops as you do, and you hope to have enough of the pieces to do well for yourself.

I like to think of myself as a pencil. Ubiquitous and unassuming, one of a dozen or a million, but with endless possibilities. I can write, I can draw, I can communicate. Sometimes I am dull and sometimes I am too sharp for my own good. I might break from time to time but I can always be restored to function until the day I hit the eraser. It’s metaphors and romanticism that get me through my life. Everything has a silver lining, everything happens for a reason, life is what it is even when it’s hard. There is beauty in everything. But yesterday I had a new lesson: my first funeral.

All of life is preparation for death. Sickness is around us, aging is a constant process, and there are atrocities around the world and around the neighborhood. We know it’s coming for everyone, ourselves included. We know about life. How it’s supposed to work and how it will surprise you. How knowing is not-knowing. But that doesn’t make it easier. The same good advice you give one day sounds different repeated. It’s true but it doesn’t feel true. It’s right but no it isn’t you don’t know me shut up shut up please please please.

I have always known how unusual it is for a 24-year-old to have all their grandparents. I have always been lucky. This experience wasn’t even a surprise. There was a diagnosis, there was some time, there were visits, though they got shorter. Then it happened. So I came home and I did what I do. I tried to be useful. I looked at the world for positive signs. I baked cookies, I did the coffee run, I cooked breakfast. I shared online in my usual ways and tried to feel better. I smoked a cigarette. I drank 4 cups of water. I walked in tight circles. I did all my usual things and some less than usual things. It didn’t feel like enough.

Jewish people don’t do an open casket and burial is a next-day affair. Everything happens very quickly. Yesterday we stood around the grave and watched a simple pine box lowered into the ground. Everyone who felt able took a shovel to add a symbolic amount of earth to this final resting place. But it didn’t feel like enough. I stood there watching people I did not know bury my grandmother and I couldn’t handle it.

I inched back towards the grave and I grabbed a shovel. I dug and scooped and broke up the mound of earth. I felt my shoulders tight in my slim suit. I thought I was going to tear it. I didn’t care. I stabbed my way through dark red earth in the light rain. I felt like I was in a movie. I felt like maybe I was shoveling too aggressively. Was I embarrassing family members? Was I embarrassing myself? I stepped outside of myself in that moment and was a little scared. I felt like a purely physical being. I felt everything at once. I was not a pencil. I was a shovel.

The day stretched endlessly until that moment and then it was done. I stopped crying. We went home. We ate hard-boiled eggs and smoked salmon bagels. I avoided the family members I usually avoid, brought my mother some more water, ate until I felt sick, and then I crashed. I slept for 11 hours.

It’s hard not to feel selfish moving forward. We are a huge family, and we are all grieving in our own way. I can sympathize, but I know I can’t grieve for anyone but myself. All I can do is move forward. Though today is a new day and she isn’t just here as always, I am grateful. Grateful to not have realized how much she meant too late, and that she knew how I felt. Grateful for 24 years of stories and jokes and songs, postcards and trinkets and photos, confetti and stickers and handwriting. 24 years of the ephemera of love itself, communicated in a way that I have always understood, even when I didn’t.

Yesterday I was a shovel but today I am a pencil again. I have been sharpened a bit, stronger but not to a breaking point. I am not fully-realized, I haven’t figured all of life out, and I am not done being sad. But with a final lesson from my grandmother I am better prepared to move forward, better prepared to make and do, and better prepared to forget all of this good advice the next time.

A Day In The Life Of A Sellout

Hello there! Again, another Thought Catalog posts here. :)) I've been a fan of reading this emo-poignant-pragmatic essays ever since so expects that this blog will contain flood of articles from this site. Enjoy reading!

Wake up with alarm at 6 a.m.

Hit the snooze exactly four times.

Get out of bed at 6:42 am.

Turn on your cheesy motivational playlist, and sing along to exactly 2 songs while showering.

Try not to think too much about the monotony ahead of you today.

Get dressed. Skirt, tights, blouse, heels, blazer.

Put in headphones, head to subway. Listen to more relatable songs about following dreams. Relatable in the sense that your life is that first part of the song where someone is unfulfilled. Not the happy part at the end.

Get to work. Buy large iced coffee. Smile as you pay. $2.02.

Sit at your desk. Take a deep breath.

Check email for any possible responses to job applications. Nothing.

You spend 5 minutes doing actual work. You struggle to find motivation. What are you really accomplishing? Are you doing anything worthwhile?

You try to find satisfaction in a project you completed. You smile briefly, then remember what it’s like to feel real passion about work. This feeling now? It doesn’t even compare to that feeling.

You spend approximately 45 minutes remembering what it felt like to be doing what you loved.

Then remember you are $50,000 in debt.

Some days the minutes drag by like a prison sentence. Other days fly by and you realize you wasted a day. One whole day of your life is gone and what do you have to show for it? Have you made your life or anyone else’s life any better?

You see an ad about “living the life you’ve imagined” or some other ridiculous tagline and want to spray paint BULLSHIT across the venomous deceitful words. Propaganda.

You find yourself getting angry when you hear these things. Why do we continue pushing these lies that you can make your dreams come true? Don’t people know just LIVING is too expensive? Dreams are irresponsible.

You get home. You vaguely remember to appreciate the fact you can afford an apartment. You throw some chicken in the microwave.

You turn on the TV. Glass of wine. Eat. Watch 2 hours of TV, and suddenly another few hours of your life disappears. You think back on the last year of your life and realize how much of your life has just disappeared.

It’s 10:30. Your eyes are heavy and your body feels tired.

You have a good life. You pay your bills. You put food on the table. But when you turn off that light at night and there’s nowhere to hide, you’re empty.

Your 15 year old self would be so disappointed in the monotonous life you lead.

As you fall asleep, you rationalize. Every night you rationalize. You’re thankful, you have a job. This is just how the world works. You tell 15-year-old-you that she’s unrealistic and doesn’t understand the real world.

She tells you that you’re a coward.

She’s right.

You’re a sellout.

11:02 p.m. you fall asleep.

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Yeah! Kinda story of my so-called life...I'm pretty sure this is a piece about how it feels to have to trade in your independence to perform a job and simply exist. Taking that first step of blind faith can be hard. Taking steps in a positive direction, following a glimmer of hope and a glimpse of a dream, opens the doors for things you never even knew you loved or were good at. It's a way cool thing. I think that if you want to follow your dreams, if you really believe you could be successful doing it, and then do it. That’s not to say it’s easy. I wouldn’t be able to sit here and tell you that it is. It’s a work in progress. Some days are wicked awesome; others get the best of you. It’s about arming you with the right tools and letting that spark catch. And together, together we’ll discover our purpose.

Don’t Define Yourself By What You’re Not

This is another article from Thought Catalog by Brianna Wiest.

I find it fascinating that people are usually described, initially at least, by a brief summary of their physical attributes and anything else that is outwardly recognizable. The first things we tend to first reach for when explaining someone are their hair color, clothing style, height, weight, job, or other successes. Even when we note that so-and-so is a really great person, that fact usually doesn’t stand alone. It’s sandwiched between other physical descriptors.

But that would make sense, right? Those are the obvious, most easily definable and recognizable things in a person. When we try to paint a picture of someone, we want to use what will best facilitate a visual. I get that. But the problem is that as much as we define other people within those means, I think we can sometimes begin to think of ourselves as being only the summation of what others can perceive.

You are not your hair color. You are not your choice of clothing. You’re not your height, weight or job or degree of education. More importantly, you’re not your mistakes. You’re not defined by the things that make you human, otherwise known to some as “flaws.” The physical are just descriptors that make you easier to identify by others, they don’t define who you are.

You are whatever touches your soul more deeply than anything. You are who you love. You are the music that makes you cry. You are the daydreams your mind trails off to. You are your favorite food. You are your deepest desires. You are what you want to bring to the world. You are the silly jokes that make you laugh. You are how you treat other people, especially people who don’t and can’t do anything for you in return. You are anything and everything that touches you and changes you from your core.

I’ve noticed that people tend to fall into two categories in this respect, and I usually see it when I’m having a conversation with someone. There are those who focus on what they’re saying, and those who focus on how they appear while saying it. As a disclaimer, it’s not to say that everybody in the world falls into either category, we’re all too diverse for such simple generalizations, so I apologize for that. Also, it’s not a matter of seeing that someone is using an abnormally astute vocabulary and is dressed well that would determine whether or not they are trying to seem intelligent and put-together.

It’s that when someone is focused on what they’re saying, it’s apparent that they feel they have something to bring to the table. Their faces express emotion congruent to what they are saying. It’s clear that they are, for the majority of the time, focusing on just what they are saying, not how they are being received by others. The conversation moves beyond the superficial, and there is truly thought behind their words. They are not speaking just for the sake of appearing one way or another or impressing anyone. They are speaking from their depths, and they realize that they aren’t what the world will take them to be.

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This was such a nice article. I like how the writer describe people speaking from their despair and realizing that physical appearance are just picture that help you to recognize by others, but it doesn’t define who you are. I feel like while reading it, also deals with the awareness that can lead to so many self-esteem issues. It is best just to know you who are and what your value and loving and accepting yourself can come so much easier.

I believe that everyone’s special in their own way. Everyone is unique and special; even if you don't think you are. Everyone has a unique physical structure and a mind. Just because you’re a little different doesn’t mean you’re not special. I learned that there are people who are different from others that want acceptance. That I shouldn’t accept them just because I feel pity for them but that I should accept them for who they are. Without variations in the world the world is boring. Everything is dull and everything would look the same. This I believe. There is something deeper inside of you, beyond your surface appearance. Think beyond what you can see.

Love is when...

Reblogged from Thought Catalog. I just enjoyed reading this. This is so well-written! I personally love the use of extreme almost grotesque images to capture the intensity of raw love. It is the same as how I feel about love. That even when I'm grumpy and frumpy and down, all I want is to be with him. But I also don't because I don't want him to see me sad. And yet, he is what makes me better."I hate everything as much as I love you." Great line in a great thing.

Love is when... by Kat George

I guess love is when I’m super cranky because I’ve got my period, and I’m sitting on the bed when you get home from work and even though I’m so relieved to see you, I scowl at you and complain that my belly hurts. I won’t cuddle you when you come and sit on the edge of the bed, even though all I really want to do is crawl inside you and wear your skin as a coat and your guts as a scarf, because love is gross and creepy like that. I have my period and my tummy hurts and I love you so much I want to slap you in the face.

I’ll grunt at you instead of answering your questions and I’ll be relieved when you leave the room and shut the door behind you, because I love you so much, and you should never have to receive me when I’m like this. When I’m like this I should be shackled to a wall and fed gruel that’s been slopped on the ground in front of me, and my hands should be tied behind my back so that I have to lap it up from the dirty floor with my tongue.

I guess love is when you come back, 15 minutes later, and you’ve been down to the off license and bought me my favorite biscuits, you know, the Weston’s Digestives with the chocolate on one side, even though it’s cold in the street and we’re poor and have no money to pay our rent. The way you come back to me, with the packet of biscuits in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, the way you come so silently and put these things next to me, the way you walk across the room without even displacing the air you’re moving through, makes me ashamed that you have to love someone that can be such a horrible little troll.

But still, I love you so much I am too embarrassed to apologise, and I continue to sit there with my arms crossed and my bottom lip out. I won’t even turn my head to face you, but I can see the biscuits laying on the bed between us, as you take up your position next to me, leaning against the brick wall because I’ve got all the pillows and I’m too stubborn and surly to take one. I think I love you more as we sit there, me obstinate and you so calm, a ringmaster waltzing boldly into a lion’s den.

And then without warning, my eyes lap with waves and I’m ready to look at you and say I’m sorry for being such a brat, it’s just that I feel so horrible, and I hate it here sometimes, in this tiny mouse infested apartment, their little droppings sometimes between the sheets of our mattress that lives on the floor. I hate that my tummy hurts, I hate that we don’t have a living room in our flat, that we can’t afford to go to a restaurant. I hate everything as much as I love you.

So you squeeze my hand and you say, I know, and you say we can just watch Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend and you’ll bitch about all the contestants with me and even pretend like you care. I start to cry because you are the best, and I tell you I didn’t mean it, that I love our tiny mouse infested apartment, I love it here, I love it here with you and did I mention that I love you? You say we’re going to miss the start of the program and you smile at me.

We watch Paris Hilton’s British Best Friend and you have an opinion on everything, and we complain about all the contestants like they’re friends we dislike and we’re driving back from a dinner party we just had with them, and we eat the whole packet of biscuits and drink tea until my tummy doesn’t hurt anymore and we’re holding hands. When the show is over, we go to the bathroom together and brush our teeth standing side by side in front of the mirror, like we do every night since we moved here. You poke me with the frothy tip of your brush, I pretend like I think it’s gross because I know you think the face I pull when I do that is cute, and then we have an argument about whether or not we can cross swords and you swear if I sit on the toilet you can aim your wee so it gets right between my legs and none will go on me. And like every night before, and every night after, we don’t cross swords.

Before we go to bed you lay on your tummy with your shirt off and I lay on your back squeezing your blackheads, and we talk about what happened today at work. So I guess love is when we eventually lay together in the darkness, and have our ten minutes of cuddles, then both roll to our own side of the bed because neither of us can sleep while cuddling unless we’re drunk or sad and right now we’re sober and happy. You touch your big toe against mine under the sheets and we fall asleep just like this; far enough apart to fall into dreams, but pressing together regardless.

Thoughts & Reminders For Everyday Life

I LOVE THIS!!! Too good not to share to everyone. MUST READ EVERYDAY, AGAIN and AGAIN!!! :)

IMPORTANT: The thing about positive reinforcement and motivation is that often times it wears off. We’re all prone to rejection, setbacks, negative funks, heartbreak and misfortune beyond our control. Those things can seem like (or actually be) sicknesses, and sometimes the right combination of words serves as medicine. Hopefully this isn’t an excruciatingly painful tablespoon of “fruit” flavored cough syrup, and more like not-so-bad instant relief and a cure for the common rut — but make it last. I hope this lands on your bulletin board, in your bookmarks, or somewhere for you to refer to on dull days and difficult times.

1. You woke up this morning! A lot of people didn’t. And a lot of people who did, won’t survive the day. This isn’t to depress you or make you think about death and get sad and stuff, it’s just a reminder that we’ve hit the jackpot having the opportunity of life. There’s always something or someone to be grateful for right this second, we just have to stop letting monotony diminish the value of and our appreciation for friends, family, good health, food, water, technology, and all that other amazing stuff. Gratitude y’all.

2. There are some flat out mean-spirited individuals who have made spewing hate and negativity their sole purpose. When you identify one of these discouraging people trying to drag you down, slow your drive, crush your confidence or compact your dreams, don’t engage. Don’t react as if their words hold any merit, and don’t seek revenge. That will only veer you off track and turn you into a pessimist yourself.Do what you do and slap a hater in the face with success.

3. Don’t compare or concern yourself with everybody else. We all know that person who is so successful, every time you speak to them it makes you want to go home and work on your résumé, but any time spent envying others or wondering why you can’t be in their position should be used productively, pursuing whatever makes you happy. There’s always someone doing a lot better than you and there’s always someone doing much worse.

4. If there’s something you want, but it’s high risk, high reward — take that chance before you’re no longer able to. Rejection feels bad, failure feels awful, but regret feels the worst. Disappointment that we passed on something and the train left the station without us. A dream, a girl, a guy, words left unspoken – you can erase the possibility of having these regrets down the road, by taking a chance and at least knowing if it was or wasn’t meant to be.

5. All of the best things will eventually end. I personally hate endings, I won’t even listen to the last track on albums all the way through, skipping back to the beginning before it can finish playing all the way through. The thing is, your current group of friends, the weekend routines you’ve adopted in recent months, the group of co-workers you adore – eventually people move, you leave, casts and locations change, and suddenly it’s a whole new show. Thoroughly enjoy whatever it is you’re enjoying until you right now becomes, “Remember back when…”

6. Don’t judge. You ain’t Judy, you ain’t Joe Brown, and you definitely aren’t God, so refrain from condemning and labeling others. I know, it’s easy to make assumptions and have preconceived notions, but that’s why prejudice, narrow-minded folks, who confuse their opinions with facts and know exactly how everyone else should be living life are so common. We live in a world where passing judgment is commonplace and tolerant, accepting people are an endangered species. Remember, you simply don’t know a person’s background based on past experiences with individuals of the same gender, race, sexual orientation, belief system, etc.

7. If you there’s anything you’re doing that makes you unhappy, and it’s being done for the satisfaction of somebody else, stop it immediately.No ifs, ands or buts — your time and happiness should never be sacrificed to fulfill the standards or satisfaction of others.

8. You can’t remain at a job or in a career field that you despise. When your days off are spent dreading having to return to work or class, you’ve got to get out. It’s easy to think, I have bills to pay and this or that reason to stay miserable, and if that’s entirely true then you have to do what you can to live, but there are still ways of forming a hasty exit plan. Save up the funds to take an extended leave, apply at the place you actually want to work, take some type of progressive step toward a means of living that you find happiness in. That first step is always the hardest to take.

9. Use your words! If you don’t know the answer, ask. Too often we try to read people’s minds instead of asking, and hoping for others to read our minds instead of us having to speaking about what’s on ‘em. Communication over psychic abilities all day, every day.

10. Live below your means and you’ll be a lot better off. Even if you’ve mastered the paycheck-to-paycheck life (which is actually like being really good at being really bad at something), budgeting and not buying what you really can’t afford will result in less stress and close calls.

11. Some problems you’ll have the power to change, other things will be beyond your control. Identify which type of issue you’re dealing with. If you’ve got some say in the matter, let your figurative voice be heard. When it’s literally out of your hands, have faith and believe it’ll improve. If a situation ever gets so bad that you feel as if you don’t have the energy or power to muster up wishing for a miracle anymore, just remember that there’s always a chance it’ll get better, no matter what it is. Keep fighting the good fight.

Source: Thought Catalog

The Kind Of Girl I Am

Reblogged this article from Thought Catalog by Chelsea Fagan

I hear a lot of sentences that begin or end with some variation of "I'm not that kind of girl." There seems to always be two camps of women, one who does this horrible thing that we're all collectively supposed to be embarrassed of, and one who has far too much dignity and self-respect to engage in it. It's hard not to feel an  expectation of classifying yourself in a way as to put other women down, or to recognize that there are certain behaviors within us that we are supposed to be constantly suppressing. But you see, I am often afraid, when I hear these sweeping generalizations about the humiliating kind of girl all of these people are absolutely not, that I may be her myself. I am more afraid, it should be said, that I don't want to change.

Because I am the kind of girl who will call you too much -- who will fall neatly under the labels of "crazy" or "needy" because her emotions tend to spill out all at once, and in full color. I find myself unable to sit on my hands when it comes to  waiting for the phone to ring, to allowing someone I am over the moon about to take their time and call me when they're ready. When I am infatuated with you, all sense of basic social propriety flies out the window and my entire life is dependent on the sweet, tinny ringing of a cellphone. I will hound your message box and immediately regret every text I send, wishing that I were the kind of person who could exhibit the coy, sexy restraint. I wish playing "hard to get" were a game that didn't elude me completely, that I could engage in a little cat-and-mouse, that I could obfuscate my true feeling just long enough to make you wonder if I actually need you. With me, there is never a doubt of "need." I always have my hands outstretched. 

I am the kind of girl who will love you more loudly than you love her and not know how to make it seem like she doesn't. I am the kind of girl who will consistently paint outside the lines and still hope that you'll be proud of her when she knows you the finished product. I have a heart which, beyond being worn on my sleeve, tends to beat loudly enough to deafen anyone trying to listen to me speak. Any half-hearted murmurs of "I'm fine" or "It's okay" will be drowned out by the thud of what are clearly my real feelings on the subject. There will always be an urgency and difficulty in my love, because I am constantly trying to catch up with myself.

I am the kind of girl who will fight sometimes for no reason, who will create arguments out of thin air because she is frustrated and sometimes takes it out on the people who deserve it least but will stand for it most. I will know that what I am doing is wrong in the moment -- that a label of "psycho" being flung at me will be as stinging as it is accurate -- but be unable to stop myself. I will see in this a kind of pinch to remind yourself that you are alive, that you are fresh, that you are worth fighting for -- even if it's selfish and juvenile. I love things at top volume, at their most difficult, at their most needlessly complex.

I am the kind of girl who talks too loudly and curses too often and makes a habit of inserting her foot as far into her mouth as her leg can bend. I know that there is a delicate sort of grace that I should be striving for, an Audrey Hepburn-esque ability to be at once charmingly funny and undoubtedly feminine, but I will constantly strive for the former in complete negligence of the latter. Though I can see myself almost in an out-of-body experience, realize that I am being "too much" and "too intense" at yet another social gathering because I know no other way to be, there will always be a small voice in my head which encourages me to tell the dirty joke, to make the overly-frank comment, and to sacrifice the seen-and-not-heard beauty that we are raised to admire in a woman.

I often hear other women talk proudly of the fact that they are not like me. They are not "crazy", they are not "needy", they are not "loud", they are not "bitchy". And though I do not begrudge them their choice to be a different human being than I am, I wish that their premium and their beauty didn't have to come at the expense of other women. I wish that we were free enough to be individuals, that there didn't have to be two categories to fit into, and that the actions of one of us didn't have to be so immediately reflective of us all. Maybe there is something wrong with being all of these things -- notably all of these things at once -- but I have never known how to be anyone else. And I would rather be too much of me than just barely enough of a proper lady.

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I appreciate the points made in this article and I agree with some. I just love this post. This makes every girl feels normal. I really like this because although I am not this kind of girl --- I am my OWN kind of girl -- a couple of these paragraphs really speak to me. It's actually great that you're being honest about yourself. And I think many - including me, aren't like that. We say sometimes we're not THAT kind, but we actually are. We try to control out feelings and behavior, but we lose sometimes. We just aren't brave enough to admit that we're just like that. 

I admire people who are 100% themselves and uninhibited about being authentic to their feelings, of loving fully and being heard. I strongly believe that if you are with someone who cannot understand or accept all of YOU, they DON'T deserve you. No one should be ashamed of how they feel of how they love. 

The One Who Wants To Be With You

The One Who Wants To Be With You by Nico Lang

The one who wants to be with you accepts you for you: your mind, your heart and the parts of your body you may feel are imperfections, the ones you criticize when you look in the mirror. They think every single inch of you is worthy of adoration and will spend all day, every single day (if necessary) proving to you how beautiful and sacred your body is. They will kiss your body slowly, part by part, just to prove to you that each one deserves to be loved and caressed. This may take some time, but they’re willing to do that. They will show you that you don’t need you to be perfect or to be Bond Girl Christmas Jones — a scientist who is also secretly a supermodel when she removes her glasses and ponytail. You don’t need to be some focus-grouped, whitewashed, photoshopped idea of what’s attractive to deserve their love — someone who doesn't eat, fart, burp, express opinions or speak above a dainty whisper. They just want you to be you, and no one else.

The one who doesn't want you always wants you to be someone else when they close their eyes or wants you to be someone they can make you into — like that woman in Weird Science. Rather than pushing you for your own betterment — because that which we love should push us to grow — they look at you as a mission and a project, a site constantly under construction for repair. They will tell you that it’s for your benefit, and they just want the best for you. But they don’t want a better you. They don’t want you. They’re settling for a house they can fix up and remodel — one that’s in a lower price range and came at a bargain. They don’t see the value in you because they’re too focused on what’s better, and they’re too focused on what they want to see you for the steal you are.

The one who wants to be with you never lets you forget how special you are. They tell you via text message (in full sentences that don’t even need emoticons), flowers, candy, skywriter and actual in-person words — because they know how important it is to be in the presence of love, to be wrapped up in it, to feel it next to you holding you and never letting go. They will tell you by being there for you when you need them to be and even sometimes when you don’t need them to be, when you’re sick in bed and insist that you’re fine and they don’t need to come over and take care of you. They will be there anyway, with a bowl of chicken soup ready, five kinds of reading material and a dozen different brands of medication. They take your health seriously — maybe a little too seriously, like a grandma — because they take you seriously. They would book a seven-hour flight with a layover in Timbuktu just to watch you puke in a toilet, which they swear is cute when you do it. FYI, it’s not cute, it’s disgusting, but caring about you makes them into a beautiful liar like that.

The one who doesn't want you isn't there or when they are there — still isn’t. They’re always texting someone else and perpetually glued to the screen of their phone as if they suddenly would go blind without the light of the iPhone. They’re always hanging out with other people who aren’t you, talking about other people and making excuses for why they don’t have more time for you. They always talk about how busy they are and how full their schedule is, but they aren’t that busy. Their life is full with friends and acquaintances and a bunch of people who are tagged on Facebook smiling in photos with them. None of these people are you, and if they wanted you, those people would be you. If they cared about you, they would show you off like a fucking farm animal at a 4H fair and advertise you like an Apple product launch. It’s a little creepy, but people who care do that. They want to brag about you, because they know Steve Jobs could never create something as fascinating as you.

The one who wants to be with you understands that you are a priority in their life and their schedule. They have their own things going on — friends, family, cats that poop too much and houseplants that are weirdly needy — but want you to be a part of those things. When the time is right, they will bring you to family functions or poker nights and introduce you as “my girlfriend” or whatever label/introduction you have decided is appropriate. They will say this word repeatedly — as if there were a drinking game for its mention — just to remind themselves how lucky they are. They will bring you up to friends and family so much that everyone around them will get slightly sick or hearing about how great you are. You will be like your high school best friend’s newborn baby that she always status updates about. The mention it is will go away, but that feeling, that gratitude of your presence, never will.

The one who doesn't want you assumes that you know all of those things and don’t need to be reminded. They forget your birthday, your anniversary and might not even know very important information about you that you expect everyone in your life to know — like your eye color. They might not even know your middle name. They haven’t taken the time to get to know you and learn the important things, like the dreams that you haven’t locked away yet and what you want to be when you finally grow up, or the less important things, like that you can’t listen to Explosions in the Sky without crying and you feel like the movie Lost in Translation was made for you. You don’t communicate or really talk at all — because they’re unwilling to open that part of themselves. They don’t see that you belong in it.

The one who wants to be with you knows that falling in love with you doesn’t happen all at once and it can take years to truly get to know someone. Learning about someone is like wandering through an old mansion with many rooms; it’s always discovering that there’s another door to unlock. This person is willing to go on that journey, to be constantly surprised by how intricate and complex you are, an M.C. Escher painting in human form, and loves finding out grand staircases of new information about you, like that you consider Missy Elliott your spirit animal and want to live in Paris when you get old. But they also love how simple you are sometimes, as simple as a backrub after a long day, because they love everything about you that’s beautiful and that hurts. They’re willing to stick it out with you through the hard conversation and the rough patches — whatever it takes to lie next to you at night, they’re willing to fight for it. They will fight to love you.

This person is willing to go on that journey, to be constantly surprised by how intricate and complex you are, an M.C. Escher painting in human form, and loves finding out grand staircases of new information about you. But they also love how simple you are sometimes, as simple as a backrub after a long day, because they love everything about you that’s beautiful and that hurts. They’re willing to stick it out with you through the hard conversation and the rough patches — whatever it takes to lie next to you at night, they’re willing to fight for it. They will fight to love you.

The one who doesn’t want you won’t fight for you or perform random acts of emotional strength to prove their love. And you should have some who is willing to do that — to chase you and sweep you off your feet (and let you do some of the chasing, too) and strive for ideals we all say are “unattainable” or “unrealistic.” You deserve to be loved by someone who knows how to love you, specifically, and only you. You deserve to someone that won’t let your dreams stay locked away. You deserve to live them.

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"The one who wants to be with you accepts you for you: your mind, your heart and the parts of your body you may feel are imperfections, the ones you criticize when you look in the mirror. They think every single inch of you is worthy of adoration and will spend all day, every single day (if necessary) proving to you how beautiful and sacred your body is."

Hmmm.

And no, I really don't mean to reblog this just because it is related to my situation. Its just I feel it is most applicable to some of us. I really like the context and how it is explained in this blog post. :)