I want to find this song: Pass the hope around

it was a very slow Monday
I had failed at love again
failed to connect with this town
failed to make any friends

I was hoping for some energy
just to get myself out of bed
after three days of being there
looking for some synergy
a reason to try life again

I can't find it in a bottle
can't find it in a drawer
so pass a little hope around
even up the score

it was a very quiet weekend
I was in a crowd of ten thousand
we were marching for peace
marching for liberty
and me, I was just plain lonely

cause I can't find it in the bottle
can't find it in a drawer
so pass a little hope around
even up your score

I can't find it in a lover
but I'll try it all again
so pass on some forgiveness
you could end up with a friend
you could end up with a friend

I was descending into evening
on the phone your kids were laughing
I wondered what you looked like
wondered how your hands felt
I wondered about a funny life
I wondered what it would be like when we meet

so I can't find it in a bottle
can't find it in a drawer
so pass a little hope around
even up the score
I can't find it in the lover
but I'll try it all again
so pass on some forgiveness
you could end up

cause I can't find it in a bottle
can't find it in a drawer
so pass a little hope around
even up the score
I can't find it in a lover
but I'll try it all again
so pass on some forgiveness
you could end up with a friend
you could end up with a friend
cause everybody needs a little hope sometime

What if I wrote when I was happy

One of my friends once asked (possibly phrased as a suggestion) why I don't write when I'm happy. I gave a pretty confident reply that the two things were simply incompatible, citing Tolstoy's opening sentence from Anna Karenina. That is, it would be [even more] boring to read my posts if I was feeling great - what could I possibly have to say?

.. as I'm writing this in a coffee shop I'm becoming increasingly irritated by fellow patrons and their flashy flashes. Fools!

..Ok. I am still somewhat happy, well, at least not unhappy. Not yet. Though this music is loud beyond necessity, also stupid.

Tra la la la.Happy happy. Ok, well to be fair, I don't have anything specific to be happy about. The possible date I was excited about tomorrow seems less and less likely. Some people cancel. Others don't even respond. But for some reason I am not down about that. Maybe it's the caffeine. Maybe it's the sugar. Maybe it's that I do have a few really great friends, and a family that I love (despite our shortcomings), and a fuckin' sweet place to live. And I sort of have a future, I guess (if I live that long), that is rather reassuring.

Maybe I'm happy-[ish] because I take myself less seriously now. For example, some guy just told me that I look like the actor from "Yes, Dear" - that is not a compliment, and I told him as much, but in a friendly jokey way and we both had a good fake laugh about it. It was kind of an amusing little interaction. Basically I keep confronting the fact that many people don't see me as I would like to be perceived (and often they seem to develop great misconceptions), but it bothers me so much less now. I'm not sure if it's a self-esteem thing (i.e., now I'm less hard on myself) or a more general "life's not that big of a deal, quit being a control freak" kind of attitude, but I like the way I handle things now more than ever.

So yeah, maybe I am happy. Not always, not completely, maybe even not for long, but I like using that word to describe this moment.

In some way, I guess, I realized that I've been wrestling with "white people problems"... and they're not that serious.

Christina's Blog!: Question of the Day: "Are You Always Teacher Feng?...

My friend is amazing. I need to take note.

Christina's Blog!: Question of the Day: "Are You Always Teacher Feng?...: "Yesterday evening, one of my favorite students asked me an interesting question in my classroom. 'Are you always Teacher Feng?' I asked for..."

from facebook to whinebook: Resilience of the Human Spirit

Pre-Script: I wonder if spirited drinks help or hurt said resilience of spirit.

Does anyone ever question the way this idea is framed? So admirable, so inspirational. We must all strive to be the strongest, bestest most resilientest peoples..est.

Is anyone else tired of being resilient? It kind of feels like BS. The only thing that has helped me with this is the Buddhist sand mandala ceremony. They spend so much time and effort into creating this beautiful piece of art, and then they wash it away when it's done. It's meant to symbolize the impermanence of every conditional thing, or something like that. I like it because the idea isn't that "well if our mandala is destroyed, we'll just have to try hader and build a better one" - it's just accepted that this is how things work. Maybe I can accept that. I don't think I have the energy to commit to the whole "be better, stronger" thing. It does seem likely, in fact rather certain, that everything I create will perish so I guess I need to take more satisfaction out of the process and not the final product? That seems so contrary to the dominant western view though (except for the new-agey "it's the journey, not the destination" quote).

I'm back, baby!

The good ol' me is here again. And by good I mean terrible, and probably the real me. I'm back! Back to hating everything and almost everyone. Ah, as during the extended period of happiness I couldn't quite remember why I felt so angsty, now I can't understand how I was able to feel anything other than this - how I fooled myself into feeling good and perhaps even being happy. I guess it was temporary insanity. Maybe it will come back... I sort of want it to because it felt pretty good, but at the same time it seems like that was so ...inauthentic? After all my approach to happiness was fake it 'til you make it, and I guess it sort of worked for a couple of months, and then I remembered I was faking.

Ah, fuck, who am I kidding? I'll probably try faking again soon if I manage to get some sleep. I had such a nice evening until these stupid drunk bitches ruined it. No intentional sexism here, I am not using it as a gendered word. There were plenty of non-bitch females (and males) on the train, but these four were stupid bitches. Ugh, but they really seemed to open my eyes to the deception I have woven around myself. The whole thing was a pretty good metaphor for how I'm eternally fucked.

I liked to say "don't mistake my kindness for weakness", but my kindness was a fucking weakness. The kindest people I know are also the ones with the lowest self-worth. I really need to fucking get over it and stop trying to compensate by being extra kind. People clearly suck and don't deserve my efforts ....any more than I deserve being treated with respect, I s'pose.

Oh fuck.

This is the first time in months that I felt like I really needed therapy. Maybe it'll get me fixed. Maybe I just need to stop fucking expecting anything good from the world. Maybe those douchebags in finance (and the villain from last season of dexter) are right - if you want something, you take it. Don't expect someone to care or even notice. If a cow could eat you, it would. Of course if you are physically attractive or have other assets you're probably fine, because then people will compete for your attention.

Ugh, I'm so fucking tired of being used - but why was I happier earlier? I can't quite recall if it was because I felt validated or I just didn't care that the world sucked. Huh, I think it was the latter. That's kind of fucked up. I gave up on the world, it made me feel better to resign to the fact that it's just a shitty place, over the weeks I felt better still because I wasn't having all these unmet expectations, so I sort of grew "happy" to the point where I started enjoying life and consequently raising my expectations about it - only to be reminded that "oh yeah, it sucks, don't get your hopes up." Vicious fucking cycle.

Mourning, coming to terms, healing...

We have quite a bit experience with mourning loss of others - whether through a tragic event or a more quotidian "falling out." There are stages of grief and mourning - we've basically got it down to a formula. It's hard, really hard, but "life goes on" or something.

Are people as experienced with mourning themselves? What they used to be? What they thought they could be but realize they can never reach? When it's in your head, rather than external to your person, how do you come to terms with it? Do we ever get good at that? How do we heal the wounds we gave ourselves?

If I didn't have a dysmorphic body, I would think I had body dysmorphic disorder..... but I guess in this case it's "order" instead.