Nonplussed Pulses and Passion
last night i saw a boy fall to the ground in tears as the Mets lost. it was heartbreaking. the bases were loaded, and there was only one out in the ninth standing between them and the world series. and they lost. the tension was incredible. the downfall was crushing.
i love the way boys rant and make fists and lean towards the tv as they watch their teams on television. i enjoy watching sports, but the passion that they evoke in certain boys is amazing. i love it. i'm so fascinated by the way passion is so unique to the person... they can be passionate about anything... a sports team, a tv show, their art, clothes, animals... and i love watching people in their quirks and their fierceness for a certain subject. it doesn't matter to me what someone is passionate about, whether or not i like it. i think it's completely legitimate and personal. i love seeing life inside people... i mean, yeah, they're walking and breathing and all that.. but when that little light gets in the corner of their eyes, and their blood starts churning and their voice raises and you just see this utter glow come out of them when they're surrounded by their passion.
my heart goes out to people who aren't passionate about anything. how can life be interesting enough to even live? i would just want to sleep all day... if all i saw around me was gray and everything was the same. if nothing made me feel any differently than i did before, if i really didn't feel much pleasure or pain or anger or injustice or ecstasy or anticipation or excitement out of anything.
i don't know if people are truly like this..? but if this complex and frightening comatose breaches the surface, ...then good. honestly. i was thinking about American Beauty this morning, and how he has this midlife awakening and the most depressing part is that just as he starts to find genuine happiness and peace with himself, he dies. i really honestly wonder if it's more tragic for someone to die as they are just becoming happy and excited about life, or when they are listless and depressed. i suppose on one hand, it's worse to be listless and depressed, because of all the happiness missed out on... but i don't know. i don't want to become too philosophical about it. what the hell do i know.
i'm just happy. honestly, happy. even when i'm stressed out (and that's most of the week any time between tuesday and thursday) i'm still happy. because whatever it is i'm stressed about, i know it's something worthwhile, and i know that i am here. i'm here. i'm so happy. i've never really been this excited or happy about anything in my life. i think back on a year ago, and how i was so unhappy, all the time. i cried for almost entire school year. every other day. and hurt, all over. just so much incredible unhappiness that pushed me so far into the ground i really couln't breathe and i couldn't see my way out and i wanted to die at so many points. and i prayed on my fucking knees that it would be worth it, and all of it would end, that a year later i would be happy here... and now everyday i'm fucking greatful as hell. i can't honestly believe how much i love life. and this school. i love this school and this city so much, it's unbelievable. and my family and friends. i can't change it for anything and i can't give it up and i will fight for every single thing that i want. i can't throw away any opportunity and i'll be damned if i don't fucking do the best i can here. if i don't.... then i don't even deserve anything.
i think about these people whose lives are threatened every day, who are working in factories and who have constant back pain, for people who have lost their families, for women who've had to get abortions and for domestically abused children and people living on the streets and i want to cry. it doesn't make any sense how life is so good for some people and so horrible for others. and it makes me never want to waste any goddamn time bitching about how i had to walk an extra eight blocks to the photo developing lab, or how i was tired in such and such class, because look at how fucking lucky i am... and if i throw it away by bitching and whining and crying and wasting time being angry at stupid people, then i'm the fuckface who doesn't deserve to be happy. i wasted so much time last year. and if only i had the clarity back then to look ahead and hope for the future ( although i did hope, however feebly) and to realize how fortunate i was just to be young, to have my future ahead of me, and to be going to this amazing place and this incredible university and just to be fucking alive and have parents and people who love me, then i never would have wasted any time crying over anything, and i would have treated so many people better, and i would have done so much more with my life with projects and books and interests... never would have wasted the time, never... especially not over something so trivial as an inconsequential person who didn't love me and treated me like shit. now i would laugh something like that off and go do something worthwhile; so many things i still want to do and have yet to do and am doing that i am so excited about, who the fuck wants to sit around doing nothing? not me. so join me or get out of my way. :)
i always want to be brave. i never want to let my fear get in the way of anything. not in the way of good sex for fear that i will be treated like i was before. not on the sites of a single part of this city because i'm afraid of getting lost on the subway (lol already happened a few times). not in the way of meeting people- all kinds arrogant shy obnoxious funny depressing weird the opposite of me better than me more talented less talented intelligent fierce sarcastic sweet different i want all of them. not to back down from a project because of what people will think.
FUCK what other people think. i finally learned that the projects that i've really pushed, that i wasn't sure about but i was pleased with and felt the most passionate about, turned out to be the things that other people loved the most. it's when i tone it down and try to make it acceptable and mute that i find nothing but monotony and mediocre response. some people will always hate you or your work or just not care. but chances are, if you love something, someone else is going to love it too. and that makes it worth it in the end.
i'm always going to remember that well behaved women rarely make history. you might think i'm crazy now and you may really fucking hate me- im bitch slut arrogant selfish annoying artsy 'pretentious' whatever the fuck your misinformed judgment is saying to you right now.... all i have to say is
Ha.
Just you wait.
i love the way boys rant and make fists and lean towards the tv as they watch their teams on television. i enjoy watching sports, but the passion that they evoke in certain boys is amazing. i love it. i'm so fascinated by the way passion is so unique to the person... they can be passionate about anything... a sports team, a tv show, their art, clothes, animals... and i love watching people in their quirks and their fierceness for a certain subject. it doesn't matter to me what someone is passionate about, whether or not i like it. i think it's completely legitimate and personal. i love seeing life inside people... i mean, yeah, they're walking and breathing and all that.. but when that little light gets in the corner of their eyes, and their blood starts churning and their voice raises and you just see this utter glow come out of them when they're surrounded by their passion.
my heart goes out to people who aren't passionate about anything. how can life be interesting enough to even live? i would just want to sleep all day... if all i saw around me was gray and everything was the same. if nothing made me feel any differently than i did before, if i really didn't feel much pleasure or pain or anger or injustice or ecstasy or anticipation or excitement out of anything.
i don't know if people are truly like this..? but if this complex and frightening comatose breaches the surface, ...then good. honestly. i was thinking about American Beauty this morning, and how he has this midlife awakening and the most depressing part is that just as he starts to find genuine happiness and peace with himself, he dies. i really honestly wonder if it's more tragic for someone to die as they are just becoming happy and excited about life, or when they are listless and depressed. i suppose on one hand, it's worse to be listless and depressed, because of all the happiness missed out on... but i don't know. i don't want to become too philosophical about it. what the hell do i know.
i'm just happy. honestly, happy. even when i'm stressed out (and that's most of the week any time between tuesday and thursday) i'm still happy. because whatever it is i'm stressed about, i know it's something worthwhile, and i know that i am here. i'm here. i'm so happy. i've never really been this excited or happy about anything in my life. i think back on a year ago, and how i was so unhappy, all the time. i cried for almost entire school year. every other day. and hurt, all over. just so much incredible unhappiness that pushed me so far into the ground i really couln't breathe and i couldn't see my way out and i wanted to die at so many points. and i prayed on my fucking knees that it would be worth it, and all of it would end, that a year later i would be happy here... and now everyday i'm fucking greatful as hell. i can't honestly believe how much i love life. and this school. i love this school and this city so much, it's unbelievable. and my family and friends. i can't change it for anything and i can't give it up and i will fight for every single thing that i want. i can't throw away any opportunity and i'll be damned if i don't fucking do the best i can here. if i don't.... then i don't even deserve anything.
i think about these people whose lives are threatened every day, who are working in factories and who have constant back pain, for people who have lost their families, for women who've had to get abortions and for domestically abused children and people living on the streets and i want to cry. it doesn't make any sense how life is so good for some people and so horrible for others. and it makes me never want to waste any goddamn time bitching about how i had to walk an extra eight blocks to the photo developing lab, or how i was tired in such and such class, because look at how fucking lucky i am... and if i throw it away by bitching and whining and crying and wasting time being angry at stupid people, then i'm the fuckface who doesn't deserve to be happy. i wasted so much time last year. and if only i had the clarity back then to look ahead and hope for the future ( although i did hope, however feebly) and to realize how fortunate i was just to be young, to have my future ahead of me, and to be going to this amazing place and this incredible university and just to be fucking alive and have parents and people who love me, then i never would have wasted any time crying over anything, and i would have treated so many people better, and i would have done so much more with my life with projects and books and interests... never would have wasted the time, never... especially not over something so trivial as an inconsequential person who didn't love me and treated me like shit. now i would laugh something like that off and go do something worthwhile; so many things i still want to do and have yet to do and am doing that i am so excited about, who the fuck wants to sit around doing nothing? not me. so join me or get out of my way. :)
i always want to be brave. i never want to let my fear get in the way of anything. not in the way of good sex for fear that i will be treated like i was before. not on the sites of a single part of this city because i'm afraid of getting lost on the subway (lol already happened a few times). not in the way of meeting people- all kinds arrogant shy obnoxious funny depressing weird the opposite of me better than me more talented less talented intelligent fierce sarcastic sweet different i want all of them. not to back down from a project because of what people will think.
FUCK what other people think. i finally learned that the projects that i've really pushed, that i wasn't sure about but i was pleased with and felt the most passionate about, turned out to be the things that other people loved the most. it's when i tone it down and try to make it acceptable and mute that i find nothing but monotony and mediocre response. some people will always hate you or your work or just not care. but chances are, if you love something, someone else is going to love it too. and that makes it worth it in the end.
i'm always going to remember that well behaved women rarely make history. you might think i'm crazy now and you may really fucking hate me- im bitch slut arrogant selfish annoying artsy 'pretentious' whatever the fuck your misinformed judgment is saying to you right now.... all i have to say is
Ha.
Just you wait.