Are you listening? I find that I say things and people don't listen to me. I don't know if this is a recent phenomenon or cultural one. I think it's the latter. It seems that people are talking and others are not listening to them. Think about it; when someone is talking to you are you listening or are you waiting for your chance to interject? I struggle with waiting for my turn because I have ADHD. I work very hard to try to listen to what the person on the other end is saying to me. Sometimes I fail and I interrupt them. It frustrates me and most likely it frustrates them. I don't want to tell you what to do. I don't need to tell you what to do. I'm going to tell myself what to do. Sarah, stop waiting to speak and just listen. What is the person you are with saying to you? What do you hear? Reflect back to them what they just said to you. Maybe if I become a better listener people listen to me.
Life is a series of stories that never finish. Half ended sentences Conversations that... Like that. People who come into your life only to leave when it doesn't serve them or you anymore. That's what life is. It's messy. It's funny. It's painful. It doesn't make sense for the most part and when it does the shoe is dangling in the air getting ready to drop. I've watched the same show over and over again. I've made the same mistake multiple times. You'd think I would have learned by now. Or maybe you aren't thinking about me at all. You're thinking of you and that's fine, because we have to look out for ourselves. It's 3am and all I want to do is sleep but I just wrote this since it was in my head.
There's nothing like not writing. I feel the pressure of wanting to say something profound, but all the thoughts in my head are angry or depressing. I want to be hilarious. Hey, what she wrote there, that was hilarious! Humor is subjective, we know this, but I want to be funny damn it. All the things I could write about I've already covered a million times and I'm tired of exaggerating. It's all getting old. I'm writing this word vomit because I don't know what else to do. There hasn't been anything on here in a while. Why are you still reading this? Go watch Netflix or eat a donut. Oh, you're still reading this because I'm still writing words. I'm fixated on the way things are supposed to be and there's so supposed to be. It just is. I just sneezed. I thought you should know that.
I had a dream I wrote you a letter. I kept trying to write your name. It wasn't working. Then I tried to write you how I felt. But the ink turned to glittery gelatinous glue and melted into the page. I read somewhere once that you can't read words in dreams. I knew what I wanted to say to you but I couldn't write the words. In the dream I missed your call. I called you back at seven in the morning. "Hey, I'm sorry I missed your call." I said, my voice scratchy from just waking up. "I called you three days ago. I'm getting ready for work now." You said, annoyed. It was too late. I was too late. We were too late for each other. I couldn't find a sink to wash my hands in. I'm not dreaming anymore and it's the same story. I still can't find the words and my eyes hurt from crying and reading and missing parts of myself and you. I'll write that letter one day. I'll mail it or burn it. I'm not sure which one. I'll let you know or maybe I won't, because I don't have the words.
There are some things in life that can't be "figured out" or rationalized. Feelings are like that. The heart wants what it wants and despite your attempts to merge your mind and your heart to have the same road trip, the heart takes over and drives the car off road onto an unchartered nature trail. I can't tell you how to feel, but your heart can. My heart is powerful and overwhelms my ability to reason. I love without thinking first and then realize later that my hands are covered in my own blood. It isn't easy to love this way but it was the way I was born and the way I am. I feel things deeply, and when I say that I love you it's because I love you. I mean those words, which pour out of my mouth but originate from my chest. What's the difference in saying these words if the way that I love can't be understood? It's fierce and bold and unashamed. And yet it scares people with its truth and passion. I won't let being misunderstood stop me from loving wholely. It's who I am to love vehemently. I can't tell you how [...]
Surviving All or Nothing Friendship By Shawna Ayoub Ainslie Hi. I'm Shawna, and I'm a survivor. I have all or nothing tendencies, and that doesn't often make me the best friend, except when I'm the BEST friend. Like I said, all or nothing. As you can imagine, it has taken me most of my adult life to learn how to set proper boundaries (raise your hand if you're a survivor too, amiright?) and maintain them. I do the best I can. Living means learning. And one life skill I'm learning is when to take a step back. For six years, I was a BEST friend to a truly exceptional woman. We did all the things together, even set a weekly "playdate" for just the two of us. We talked about parenting, shared sorrows and joys and laid plans for personal triumph. It was an amazing exchange of compassion and love. We hit road bumps. They would skew our course a little bit, but with some practice and a commitment to communication and conflict resolution, we smoothed the road every time. Until my son's differences got in the way of us supporting each other's ability to reach our personal bests. We had no plans to [...]
I didn't know where I was going when I dove into that lake. The water wasn't clear either, which didn't help. Nevertheless I curved my back and arms and threw my body head first into the murky water. It seemed like the thing to do. I needed to leave where I was, because there wasn't anything left for me there. When my body hit the water I felt the coolness wash over me. It was refreshing and scary to be one with this massive body of ambiguity. Still I pushed myself through it and then I saw you. You were struggling, arms flailing to stay afloat. Your face was beautiful. Your eyes met mine, and I knew what I had to do. I swam toward you. My hand reached toward you and you grabbed it. We floated together for a moment. I knew you weren't a strong swimmer. Part of me was strong, I knew how to swim but only because I'd taught myself that staying still was dangerous. But you stood there frozen, holding my hand like it was a foreign object. "Come with me." I begged you. You silently shook your head and pointed toward the shore, which was [...]
I just came back from BlogHer 16, which was a fantastic experience. I won Voices of The Year, and was able to read my blog post about being disabled in front of a largely supportive group of my peers. That was a fantastic experience. However, I won't pretend that my interactions with everyone at the conference were full of rainbows and happiness. I am a mostly friendly person, who is overly anxious and enthusiastic about life. I talk to everyone and have no filter. I'm aware that my personality doesn't go with everyone's, but I make a concerted effort to be understanding and nice to the people around me hoping against hope that they like me. That being said, when I compliment someone on their outfit and they have no visible emotion on their face when they say "thank you" and they cannot make eye contact with me, it feels like they are dissing me. When I try to talk to you, and you give me monosyllabic answers and look at your shoes, I'm going to go ahead and assume that you hate my guts, which reminds me so much of my high school experience. I'm not cool, I'll never be cool [...]
The story isn't over. There's an intermission and I'm hungry but there isn't a concession stand. I have to listen to the grumbling in my stomach for this indeterminable amount of time. I'm tired, starving and probably dehydrated. How long is the intermission? It doesn't say on the program. Nobody seems to know. They are all busy talking to each other and laughing about how it might end or should end. I don't want it to end. I thought it was going to go on forever. It feels great to watch it unfold and see the nuances. The creases in his smile, the way he sounds when he laughs subtlety, just enough to let me know that he got the joke, I want to see those parts. It's over temporarily and I don't know when Act II begins. Nobody wants to talk to me about Act I anymore. They said they've seen it and it's great, but they're ready for the second part. They are patiently waiting. I'm impatiently waiting. I'm fucking hungry damn it. I didn't know this intermission was going to take so long. I remember the part of the play when they stood together on stage and [...]
I ordered sushi for lunch today. I was too tired to make anything and I wanted to treat myself because I deserve it. When it arrived it had two kinds of rolls, one of them was an Alaska Roll and the other one was something that I didn't recognize. Apparently I had ordered this kind of roll before because I clicked "re-order" on my delivery dot com order. I started to eat my lunch and I thought I'll try this mystery roll because it's here anyway. As soon as I bit into the roll I thought: I hate this. It's gross. Then I thought: I should eat it because I paid for it. I sat with that for a moment and then I was interrupted by my mind, which said: Fuck that! I don't have to eat that shit. It's gross and I don't like it and just because I paid for it doesn't mean I have to sacrifice my taste buds and happiness to eat some shit that I find reprehensible. Then I realized something deeper about this encounter. I do this in my life frequently. I feel as if I should do something. I should sacrifice my own [...]
When the truth is told and you hear it but you don't really hear it. Then you hear it so hard that your ears burn. They are on fire with the words. You hear so much truth that your stomach feels like it's going to explode with the root of the problem. Only there isn't a problem because you are the problem. You have put yourself in a position where the only solution is to stop talking. You aren't good at being silent because you talk A LOT and words come so easily and freely and you thought you were wanted but it turns out you are actually someone else. You don't really know who you are. I don't know who I am and all I want to do is eat ice cream and not feel anymore. That's what happens when you love so hard that you forget yourself. All this time I've been talking about you and I actually mean me. I am not the person I thought I was. That person fell down on the road and there's a gaping hole in her leg. What happened? She didn't think before she leapt into something that made no sense. [...]
Evan did always know what Bryan was thinking. Whether he was scared, sad, or angry, Evan could read Bryan's thoughts. It was both comforting and disarming at once. One day they were walking in the woods, near their house. Bryan stopped in his tracks. Evan turned to him and said: "I know you're afraid. But there aren't any bears in this part of the woods." Bryan was irritated. He was comforted by the fact that Evan knew what he was thinking, but wanted to keep his fears and secrets to himself. He didn't articulate any of these thoughts to his brother. They kept walking down the dirt trail. They were headed in the direction of the waterfall. There was a cliff that Evan wanted to climb. As they were walking Bryan had second thoughts about the whole excursion. "I'm not sure I can make it to the top." Bryan confessed. "I'm afraid of heights." Evan laughed, and moved his fingers through the grey streak in his hair, pushing it aside like it was a nuisance to him. "You need to face that fear, bro. I'll be there with you." Bryan didn't say anything. He swallowed audibly and sighed. He knew that [...]
Evan and Bryan were two brothers who did everything together. They were twins, both age 15. Evan was adventurous and Bryan was shy. They were brothers but also close. Evan loved to rock climb, walk in the woods, go swimming in waterfalls and drag his brother on all of these excursions. Bryan was more cautious than his twin brother, but he admired his audacity and appetite for life. Evan wanted more for Bryan. He wanted him to come out of his shell, to experience the world. It was harder for Bryan to do these things freely. He was scared of everything, bugs, people, even going outside terrified him. The only way he was able to do anything was with Evan by his side. Though they were twins, they looked completely different from one another. Evan had one blue eye and one brown eye. Bryan's eyes were both grey, but they looked blue in a certain light. Evan had brown hair with a single strand of grey in it, at the front. He looked a little like a skunk. It was odd that a 15 year old had a grey streak in his hair, but going grey early ran in their family. Bryan [...]
I care. I think we can all agree that I care a lot. Kind of like the Care Bears. Sometimes I even care too much. I like writing on here because it lets me see what my brain looks like on "paper." I said "paper" in quotes because this is definitely not paper. It's a computer screen, or a phone, or a tablet or whatever the fuck you are reading this on. I doubt anyone is actually reading this except for maybe me. Whatever, who cares? OH I DO! I forgot that I actually care. So I'm writing a young adult novel (sort of, maybe it's more like New Adult) but it's about two teenagers who are in love. The guy is a graffiti artist. The girl doesn't know where he is most of the time or if he's in jail. It's like a forbidden romance. I need to do research into what it's like to be a graffiti artist because I have no idea about the language used in that world. Side note I am pretending to be normal and go on with my life like nothing is happening in my brain that is sad but in reality I [...]
I want to write something profound and wonderful and also funny. But I have writing blue balls or limp writing dick. Why is everything about penises? I'm not sure. I have a lot of feelings about the things that are going on in my life but I don't want to articulate them in a way that is coherent because I am tired of being vulnerable. It's exhausting and terrifying and I need to lay down and rest my head and not think for a while. I want a big giant bed with flannel sheets and a white down comforter and some hot chocolate. I want to lay down there and not think about anything real. I don't want to feel anymore. I feel things too intensely and for too long and I can't turn my brain off. I'm tired. All I can listen to is sad music, because apparently that is all that I own on ITunes. I miss having a Disc Man. I am stuck in the 90s. Pain is an annoyance to feel. Emotional pain is the worst kind of pain ever. It's not the kind of pain you can take Motrin for. Sorry Motrin, you don't get [...]