Carousels

Isn't it funny how much we let little things bother us?  Oftentimes, we become so caught up in problems that really don't matter.  We worry, and we fret, and, then, eventually, everything works itself out in the end.  Even when things don't go our way, we pick up the pieces, and we move on.

Before I truly begin this post, allow me to divulge a brief anecdote about life when I was five.  I remember waking up early one morning before anyone else was out of bed.  I crept downstairs, undoubtedly clutching my tiger shark stuffed animal (who needs teddy bears, really?) and appreciating the rare tranquility of the household at 7:00 AM.  Rather enjoying my newfound solitude, I pulled a bowl out of the cupboard (a REAL bowl, mind you...not some plastic kiddy bowl) and poured myself some Fruit Loops.  Carefully, I added a bit of milk to the bowl and grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer.  I imagine I was quite pleased with myself at that point...but can you feel the impending disaster, ladies and gentlemen?  Yes, that's right.  As I lifted the bowl from the countertop, I felt it slide away from my fingertips (note: I really don't know how this happened...  I have freakishly bad luck with these types of things.  Just ask me how I broke my hand...except...don't...because it's an embarrassing story.).  Anyway, a veritable explosion of milk, glass, and Fruit Loops shook the entire Hart household that morning...  And with the shattering of that bowl came the shattering of my dreams.  It was the end of the world.  It really was.  I stood there, amazed that the residual splatter of the skim milk had not only soaked me from head to toe, but had also managed to coat the entire back wall of our kitchen.  And, if that wasn't bad enough, I had broken a BOWL.  Back in those days, you didn't break a bowl and live to tell the tale.  In fact, people were killed for much less.  So, tears brimming in my eyes, I began to blot up the soggy mess with some paper towels, awaiting my inevitable doom.  Sure enough, Mom entered the kitchen a few minutes later, and I knew my moment had come.  At the very least, I would be flogged with the wooden spoon (did...your parents ever hit you with a wooden spoon...?  Mine did...and it hurt.  A lot.).  But, then, a funny thing happened.  Mom knelt down beside me and started helping me clean up the mess.  Was this some sort of ploy to catch me off guard...?  Did she have the wooden spoon hidden behind her back?!  Nope.  Turns out breaking a bowl (and spilling a little milk and cereal) wasn't punishable by death after all.

So, I assume by now that you understand my point.  No?  Well, perhaps that's because I've made it wildly unclear.  Really, it's just what I stated in the opening paragraph.  Far too often, I worry about the most trivial things.  Granted, they seem important at the time--so important that I lose my focus on other much more important things.  I just really need to let go of so many problems that have been stressing me out.

More and more, I'm finding that things have a tendency to work themselves out, anyway.  Even when something blows up in my face, I usually realize later that it wasn't that bad in the end.  Even when I'm certain that nothing could be worse, I tend to look back later and wonder why I was so bothered in the first place.  Most of the time, once I finally stop worrying and just forget about my problems, they come to a resolution (note: this does not work well with exams).  It's kind of a strange cycle, really.

So, I've decided that I'm going to stop stressing out over things that I can't control, and I'm just going to be happy.  It bewilders me that it has taken me so long to come to that conclusion....because, really, what else can I do?

So, there you have it.  Today's lesson: don't cry over spilled milk...or...something similarly cliche.  Hey, whatever works, right?

Thanks for reading.

If you ever feel like something's missing
Things you'll never understand
Little white shadows
Sparkle and glisten
Part of a system, a plan.

Smoke Signals

Do you ever get that hollow, sinking feeling?  You know, the feeling that presents itself when you know you're making a huge mistake or going down the wrong path.  You can see all the red flags, you can hear all the alarms, but you just can't seem to resist pressing onward.

It's like a scene from a horror film.  The naive (and rather mindless) character is evading the bloodthirsty serial killer, only to take a reckless turn down a dark alley.  Now, the killer is no where in sight, and our hero(ine) has every opportunity to go back to the well-lit, crowded street behind him or her...  You know he or she must be thinking (if...these characters are capable of such thoughts), Okay...dumb move.  Dimly lit, unpopulated areas of the seedy underworld are NOT good safe havens.  I should head back to civilization...  But they never do.  They scurry down the alley, undoubtedly making all sorts of commotion as they stumble through the darkness.  And then...surprise!  Mr. Chainsaw pops out of a nearby dumpster (how he got there, we will never know), and...  Well, let's just say that chainsaw vs. flesh is not a very fair match-up.  We'll leave it at that.

Okay, now that we've gotten our overblown illustration out of the way, I suppose I can continue my original line of thought.

I make lots of bad decisions--maybe not even decisions really, but a lack thereof.  I can see myself heading down the same foolish path over and over again, and I rarely do anything to prevent it.  It's not that I don't know that I'm doing it, either.  I repeatedly tell myself, Don't do this, Andrew.  This is dumb.  You can see where this is headed, and you know you're going to hate yourself for it later.  But, very much like our ill-fated movie star, I turn away from all things rational, and I wander down that dark alley, fully aware of the agonizing death that awaits me.

So, what's the problem?  Why do I do that to myself time and time again?  For the most part, I think it comes down to apathy.  I know where I'm headed, and I realize that it's going to suck, but I just don't care enough to prevent it.  I allow myself to be hurt because it's easier that way--at least temporarily.

And what of the consequences?  Eh, they're still a few days away...

Now, as is often the case in these blog entries of mine, I've arrived at the point where I've confronted the problem and am in dire need of a solution.  The sad part today is that the solution is simple: care.  Recognize the warning signs and take action.  Save yourself for once.

Everything looks so clear as I'm writing this, and you're probably wondering how this is even a problem.  Essentially, I've told myself, Don't be stupid, Andrew.  That's all.  Unfortunately, I've noticed all too often that, once you've already set foot in the alley, it's easy not to look back.

And I'm not so afraid,
lost at sea,
as I should be...

L'Attente

Dans mes rêves agités,
Je vois cette ville : Colline Silencieuse.
Tu as promis que tu m’y prendrais encore un jour.
Mais tu n’as jamais fait.
Tiens, je suis là, tout seul, maintenant
--dans notre place spéciale—
Et je t’attends.

Nothing Better

Today has been an awful day.  Let's see.  In my free time, I've been exploring the wonders of Gary B. Ferngren's piece of literary genius, Science and Religion--a quality read if you're hoping to delve into the complexities of the Laplacian nebular theory of the solar system or the innumerable cosmologies that were discussed by various 16th-century philosophers.  Of course, for a large majority of the time, I've also been struggling to remain conscious, often plunging face-first into my table at the SAC (if I have a bruise on my forehead tomorrow, that's why), occasionally blurting out incoherent strings of words to those unfortunate enough to be around me.  Right now, I'm shaking from the lingering effects of a Starbucks DoubleShot, knowing full well that when I crash from this caffeine high, I'm going to crash hard.

So, like I said, today has been an awful day.  But when I think about it--when I really think about it--I realize that I don't feel awful at all.

It's hard to describe.  I'm so quick to dwell on the negative, and I worry about things all the time.  I worry about my problems.  I worry about my friends' problems.  I worry about things that aren't even problems yet.  Whenever I have an idle moment, I think about problems that should be fixed--problems that I tend to not even express--because some part of me just can't accept that things might actually going well.  I excavate some deep source of dread from the back of my mind, and I let it consume me.

So...why, then, did I just say that I don't feel awful?  It's not very complicated, actually.  Despite everything I'm thinking--despite every problem that I feel bearing down on me--I know that it's all going to be okay.  I know that everything is going to work out.  And, at the end of the day, I know that I'm truly blessed.  I'm blessed in so many ways that it's overwhelming to me--blessed with family, blessed with the most amazing friends.  When I really sit down and think about it, how could I not be happy?  Even as I write this (and as my Science and Religion textbook leers at me from just a few feet away), it's hard not to smile.  It sounds corny and horribly cliche, but...life is good.

So...careless optimism again?  Maybe.  But it gets me through the day.  

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Quand rien ne bouge...

I watch the patchwork farms'
Slow fade into the ocean's arms.
And from here, they can't see me stare,
The stale taste of recycled air.

Lately, I've come to the realization that I'm bothered when nothing is happening--when things become entirely stagnant.  I'm not talking about boredom, exactly; in fact, I think I'm fairly easily contented.  What I'm talking about is a complete stagnancy in life--a period of time when everything is just at a standstill.

Admittedly, I'm a perfectionist, so I'm always looking for things to improve, whether they be things about myself, things around me, or even problems other people are having.  I don't often feel like things in my life are entirely "settled," and that's okay.  I enjoy having something on which I can focus: something to improve.

So, whenever everything is completely at rest--at peace, even--I really don't know what to do with myself.  I feel lost when I can't satisfy these restless thoughts.  Consequently, I often have a hard time relaxing because I'm always plagued with the thought that something needs to be done.  Something needs to be improved.  I feel lazy if I'm just sitting around while opportunities for improvement are lost.  Very rarely do I actually lie back and rest--and if I do, I'm usually plagued with some degree of guilt--and, as many of you know, I'd sooner gouge out my eyes than take a nap during the day (even when functioning on frighteningly low amounts of sleep).  It's not that I'm this amazingly productive person who can't stop until every bit of work is complete.  I just feel restless.  That's all.

So, is there a solution?  Perhaps.  The solution comes in the form of "mini-projects," for lack of a better term.  Mini-projects encompass all sorts of things--from drawing a picture for someone to writing a note and sticking it in a friend's mailbox.  Mini-projects are things I can do to make other people feel good; plus, doing so simultaneously makes me feel better.  I've discovered that, if I give myself something to attend to--especially if that something involves improving someone else's day--when I really don't need to be attending to anything, I feel a whole lot better.  I feel fulfilled.

Who knew fighting restlessness and improving peoples' lives could be so easy?

Alright, enough rambling for now.  I have a small French composition to complete--something for me to improve, right?!

Ah.  Je voudrais me blesser.  :)

Please Remain Seated

All I see is a beautiful, little town in the midst of magnificent mountains--a place where people have hopes and dreams, even under the hardest conditions.

The more I think about it, the more I realize how latently optimistic I am.  Although it's a trait that I typically veil under sarcasm or cynicism, this optimism flows through my thoughts and ideas, lacing everything with a sort of misguided perfection.  When I envision a future event, I envision it to be flawless, despite the fact that I often voice some degree of negativity to the people around me.  Inwardly, though--and this is something I rarely express--I simply fail to grasp the idea that things might not go the way I've planned.  Some part of me always says, "it will work out in the end."  And it often does...  The problem is that I can't even imagine a less-than-perfect outcome.  I can't imagine it.  And that's what scares me.

Grace paused. And while she did, the clouds scattered and let the moonlight through, and Dogville underwent another of those little changes of light. It was if the light, previously so merciful and faint, finally refused to cover up for the town any longer. Suddenly you could no longer imagine a berry that would appear one day on a gooseberry bush, but only see the thorn that was there right now.

As a result of this intrinsic optimism, it often takes a lot to disillusion me; however, when the disillusionment finally hits, it hits me hard, and I can rarely pick myself back up afterward.  Consequently, I tend to shun things--and people--that have disillusioned me.  If my vacation to Florida wasn't all I hoped it would be, I'll avoid thinking about it entirely--perhaps even disregard the photos that I took during the trip.  If Jane wasn't overly enthusiastic about the gift I gave her, I'll never speak about it again...and I'll probably avoid Jane for the next few days.  In fact, I might even view Jane in a negative light for quite some time.

What's the old adage about time healing all wounds?  Personally, I've never found that to be true.  I dwell on things that bother me, and I never really let them go.  Thanks to my optimisim-disillusionment cycle, I'm constantly disappointed when things don't go quite as well as I've planned (which is usually the case); then, I distract myself with optimism about other future events until I'm inevitably let down again.  It's deranged, really, although I suppose we all do it to a certain extent.

I'm sure I've touched on this before in my various blog posts, but part of me wishes that I were just completely negative all the time.  I wish I would always expect the worst possible outcome.  After all, if someone says they're mad at you, and you expect them to destroy you and slaughter all of your kin, but then they only punch you in the face, you'll probably end up feeling a delightful sense of gratitude, right?  Well...maybe not.  But I think you see my point.

Anyway, it seems that there's no easy solution here.  The optimism feels great while it lasts, and then the disillusionment sucks.  But I guess there's a price to pay for everything, isn't there?

Building Bridges

My thoughts are a bit muddled right now, so pardon me if this post lacks any semblance of logic.  Half the time, I scarcely even know what I'm thinking (or writing, for that matter), so I doubt you'll find any large amount of insight in these blog entries.

With that said, allow me to begin my latest bout of rambling...

Have you ever noticed how powerful anticipation can be?  I'm not talking about mere expectations--certainly not in the negative sense I've displayed in my past few entries, anyway--but more of an eagerness, an excitement.  Anticipation can drive me through the week, giving me that extra bit of energy I need to survive my Science & Religion exam or my Life Science lab or even my extensive French composition (which is what I should be working on right now)!  If I'm anticipating something (something positive, mind you), I always have the strength to push through it all.

Now, this "something positive" doesn't have to be monumental.  It could be as casual as going for a walk with a friend, watching a good TV show, or just taking the time to relax.  I mean, sure, the anticipation is going to be a little stronger if, say, you know you're about to leave for a trip to Europe...but anything works, really.

There were so many times at work over the summer that I just didn't think I was going to make it through the week--so many "I. CAN'T. TAKE. THIS. ANYMORE." moments.  But--despite my frustrations--as long as I had something positive looming, even if it was several weeks away, I was totally fine.  "All I have to do is make it until..." was my motto during those times.  Certainly, anticipation has been my faithful companion through many a bleak moment.

And even better is anticipation during those wonderful, non-bleak moments--just when the anticipation is reaching its peak.  The event itself is about to occur, and I find myself happier than I ever remember being--filled with pure, untainted excitement, devoid of any thoughts of negativity or doubt.  I feel this when I'm waiting to meet a friend somewhere.  I feel it when I'm driving to someone's house to hang out.  I feel it anytime I know something good is about to happen.  It's unbelievable.

Oftentimes, I feel like anticipation can be more energizing than the realization of the event itself--especially for someone like me, who idealizes everything.  I can think of numerous occasions when I built up events so much in my mind that the reality could hardly stand up to my anticipations.  But, again, that's not the point.  The point is that, in those moments of anticipation, in that period of charged excitement, I feel great.  I feel like nothing can go wrong, and, on the off-chance that something does, it really won't matter.  I'm anticipating something amazing.

I guess I'm not exactly uncovering some great secret in this blog entry.  "Hey everyone!  Excitement is GOOD!"  Honestly, I kind of felt like my entries were leaning toward the depressing side of things, and I wanted to gush about something positive for once.  So, I decided to cling to this idea--something that has helped me to cope during all sorts of inner turmoil.

I realize that this may not have been interesting or enjoyable...or worthwhile in any way.  But it really does make me feel better to sort these things out in my head by writing them down...for all the world (i.e. maybe about five people) to see.

In short, this post has helped me to realize that, while I often feel bounded by the past and confused by the present, I would simply do better to look to the future--to the things that I'm anticipating.