A narrative, because I woke up and I'm bored already. [wall of text]
I'm looking at my poster that tells me that when God closes a door, he opens up a window. Which just makes me think, life's sort of like a house. We are sort of like houses. Many rooms, some of them nicer than others. We frequent them, clean them if it pleases us or leave them to get dusty. Maybe we let the light in, or maybe we keep it out for fear of having the furniture fade. Everyone keeps house differently.
And then I think to myself, no, life's not like a house at all, it's more like a journey.
See, when you're in the house, your best perspective becomes the roof. You can't see very far, but it lets you know how many other houses and people are around you. The world is no longer walls, but open air. Sunlight comes and goes as it pleases. It doesn't need your permission to come through. But, it still remains that you're on the roof and you need to get out of your house. Being on top of it doesn't count much. The basement doesn't help, either; you can't get any lower without dynamite and a shovel.
One needs to actually leave the house to get any sort of experience in life. A house is limiting. Or, maybe a house is a haven. Depends on circumstances, really.
And I thought of that while eating black raspberry icecream, sitting on my bed, wrapped in a blanket after four hours of sleep. Now that the ice cream is a little purple puddle, and I'm wondering why I just had that much sugar at 9:30 at night, and whether or not I'll be able to fall asleep normally. The answer to those questions and so much more will come in good time. For now, I'm making a chill-out playlist on finetune while trying to figure out a way to look at the screen and not have my eyes stress out from the constant blue light.
Of course listening to music just brings on more thinking.
What is the deal with love? It seems to be the most wonderful, terrible, terrifying, exhilarating experience known to man, yet so many claim it doesn't exist. Of course it does. You have friends you cannot live without because of the way they smile, laugh, give you advice. If you lost them suddenly, and could never live your life in the same way again, if there is an incredible hole because of their absence, then you love them. You need them. The same goes for anyone, really. Their existence has become so important in your life that to go on pretending everything's alright seems ridiculous. It is that way because you love them in one way or another.
Now, for love to be returned in a romantic way...
Waiting for that just outright sucks.
I've had people care about me in ways that I couldn't return. Sure, once was over the internets, but still, it just sucks. You sit there, wondering why on earth you couldn't just feel the same way so you could both sit there and wear out your feelings for eachother until finally nothing's left or everything has grown to such proportions that you have to announce to the world that you love the other with such intensity that you need the sky, moon, and all existing powers of the cosmos themselves to properly get your point across.
I have high standards and expectations. Some I can let go of. But there are a few things that I will not let go of and have to be met. They're difficult to explain, and yet not at all. He just has to be crazy in love with me, and I have to sit there and be like, no other way makes sense. You're it. Let's spend the rest of our lives together, kay? :D
It's so funny that I have the right to talk about love when I've never felt it for very long periods of time. I always got over it. And I don't think love goes away that fast, or maybe even at all. It's a lot to think about as I sip water that has vague undertones of the plastic container it came from. I should watch out for that.
So, college orientation is coming up on the 30th. Do I want to go? No. Nothing personal, but I really don't feel the need to meet people in my classes. You can't shove people together and make them be friends with eachother. I'll figure things out on my own, thanks, when it comes to the social happenings. Now, show me where the heck I'm supposed to go for half of my classes and then I'll be thankful you made me stay overnight. Maybe I can find a way out of that... or not. I'll live.
What I'm more worried about is my driver's test. I'm going to be a nervous wreck the entire time. But hey, if I fail, I fail. Won't be the first one to do so, but I just want my damn license. I'm a good driver, I won't get anyone killed. >.>
Ten o'clock. Feeling vaguely tired, but nothing too bad. Probably shouldn't have eaten that ice cream, but no regrets. Phil called earlier telling me how his dad is. Everything's fine (for those who don't know, his dad had a neurological thing go on yesterday, but right now, he's fine). All during Lilydale, I was sitting there waiting until I could call and find out what happened. I guess he was at work and I made his phone go off. xD
Sorry there, buddy.
"Music is like candy; you have to throw out the rappers."
Mike, I love you, I swear. He sent me that on facebook, and it made me laugh. It's mostly true, with the mainstream crap we hear pouring out of our radio. What sucks about the radio isn't really so much the music. It's that they play the same things over and over again until you just don't want to listen at all. I would be able to deal more peacefully with the existence of this genre if I didn't get assaulted with it every time I went to a popular music station. And really now, how many songs can you write about sex? An infinite amount.
Now, once in a blue moon, you get a song by an artist who actually kicks ass. Like, Misery Business, by Paramore. They are an amazing band. But, then they get that one popular song, and suddenly everyone is listening to them, and the band you once held to be your own little diamond in the rough becomes a household name.
I wonder if the little ant to my left crawling on my shirt pile knows what music is.
But, yeah, when bands become really popular, it's not the same. You still like them, and it's still great music, but it's nice to have that one band who is still humble enough to dare to be rough in their songs without worrying about how the throng of fans will react.
You know who I'm waiting on? The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Every time I hear 'Your Guardian Angel,' I just either choke up, or let my heart bleed. It's such a beautiful song, and I love his voice--
You know what I just realized? I don't know the lead singer's name. Here I am, enjoying their music, and I don't know who any of them are. I can barely tell you anything about any of the artists that I listen to. Probably because I just let them be people, and let their music speak for them, and it's not like I'm about to become their best friend.
That little ant from before was just crawling on my leg. Now, the normal reaction would be to flip out and thwack the little bugger upside the thorax, but instead I get him to go back on my shirt pile and live out the rest of his days.
I think this wall of text is good for now. I'll go back to my playlist making, and try not to be awake until the wee hours of the morning. Even though that's pretty much every night/morning for me.
Peace, my buddies. We all need it.
And then I think to myself, no, life's not like a house at all, it's more like a journey.
See, when you're in the house, your best perspective becomes the roof. You can't see very far, but it lets you know how many other houses and people are around you. The world is no longer walls, but open air. Sunlight comes and goes as it pleases. It doesn't need your permission to come through. But, it still remains that you're on the roof and you need to get out of your house. Being on top of it doesn't count much. The basement doesn't help, either; you can't get any lower without dynamite and a shovel.
One needs to actually leave the house to get any sort of experience in life. A house is limiting. Or, maybe a house is a haven. Depends on circumstances, really.
And I thought of that while eating black raspberry icecream, sitting on my bed, wrapped in a blanket after four hours of sleep. Now that the ice cream is a little purple puddle, and I'm wondering why I just had that much sugar at 9:30 at night, and whether or not I'll be able to fall asleep normally. The answer to those questions and so much more will come in good time. For now, I'm making a chill-out playlist on finetune while trying to figure out a way to look at the screen and not have my eyes stress out from the constant blue light.
Of course listening to music just brings on more thinking.
What is the deal with love? It seems to be the most wonderful, terrible, terrifying, exhilarating experience known to man, yet so many claim it doesn't exist. Of course it does. You have friends you cannot live without because of the way they smile, laugh, give you advice. If you lost them suddenly, and could never live your life in the same way again, if there is an incredible hole because of their absence, then you love them. You need them. The same goes for anyone, really. Their existence has become so important in your life that to go on pretending everything's alright seems ridiculous. It is that way because you love them in one way or another.
Now, for love to be returned in a romantic way...
Waiting for that just outright sucks.
I've had people care about me in ways that I couldn't return. Sure, once was over the internets, but still, it just sucks. You sit there, wondering why on earth you couldn't just feel the same way so you could both sit there and wear out your feelings for eachother until finally nothing's left or everything has grown to such proportions that you have to announce to the world that you love the other with such intensity that you need the sky, moon, and all existing powers of the cosmos themselves to properly get your point across.
I have high standards and expectations. Some I can let go of. But there are a few things that I will not let go of and have to be met. They're difficult to explain, and yet not at all. He just has to be crazy in love with me, and I have to sit there and be like, no other way makes sense. You're it. Let's spend the rest of our lives together, kay? :D
It's so funny that I have the right to talk about love when I've never felt it for very long periods of time. I always got over it. And I don't think love goes away that fast, or maybe even at all. It's a lot to think about as I sip water that has vague undertones of the plastic container it came from. I should watch out for that.
So, college orientation is coming up on the 30th. Do I want to go? No. Nothing personal, but I really don't feel the need to meet people in my classes. You can't shove people together and make them be friends with eachother. I'll figure things out on my own, thanks, when it comes to the social happenings. Now, show me where the heck I'm supposed to go for half of my classes and then I'll be thankful you made me stay overnight. Maybe I can find a way out of that... or not. I'll live.
What I'm more worried about is my driver's test. I'm going to be a nervous wreck the entire time. But hey, if I fail, I fail. Won't be the first one to do so, but I just want my damn license. I'm a good driver, I won't get anyone killed. >.>
Ten o'clock. Feeling vaguely tired, but nothing too bad. Probably shouldn't have eaten that ice cream, but no regrets. Phil called earlier telling me how his dad is. Everything's fine (for those who don't know, his dad had a neurological thing go on yesterday, but right now, he's fine). All during Lilydale, I was sitting there waiting until I could call and find out what happened. I guess he was at work and I made his phone go off. xD
Sorry there, buddy.
"Music is like candy; you have to throw out the rappers."
Mike, I love you, I swear. He sent me that on facebook, and it made me laugh. It's mostly true, with the mainstream crap we hear pouring out of our radio. What sucks about the radio isn't really so much the music. It's that they play the same things over and over again until you just don't want to listen at all. I would be able to deal more peacefully with the existence of this genre if I didn't get assaulted with it every time I went to a popular music station. And really now, how many songs can you write about sex? An infinite amount.
Now, once in a blue moon, you get a song by an artist who actually kicks ass. Like, Misery Business, by Paramore. They are an amazing band. But, then they get that one popular song, and suddenly everyone is listening to them, and the band you once held to be your own little diamond in the rough becomes a household name.
I wonder if the little ant to my left crawling on my shirt pile knows what music is.
But, yeah, when bands become really popular, it's not the same. You still like them, and it's still great music, but it's nice to have that one band who is still humble enough to dare to be rough in their songs without worrying about how the throng of fans will react.
You know who I'm waiting on? The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Every time I hear 'Your Guardian Angel,' I just either choke up, or let my heart bleed. It's such a beautiful song, and I love his voice--
You know what I just realized? I don't know the lead singer's name. Here I am, enjoying their music, and I don't know who any of them are. I can barely tell you anything about any of the artists that I listen to. Probably because I just let them be people, and let their music speak for them, and it's not like I'm about to become their best friend.
That little ant from before was just crawling on my leg. Now, the normal reaction would be to flip out and thwack the little bugger upside the thorax, but instead I get him to go back on my shirt pile and live out the rest of his days.
I think this wall of text is good for now. I'll go back to my playlist making, and try not to be awake until the wee hours of the morning. Even though that's pretty much every night/morning for me.
Peace, my buddies. We all need it.