We often fear in others what we see in ourselves.
...and I hate sarcasm. Welcome to the rants, ravings and reflections of an introvert.
We often fear in others what we see in ourselves.
People tend to make one of two mistakes:
They either think everyone is like them…
Or no one is.
I’m a different kind of different…………
With different kinds of homes………………….
Turns out we’re two of a kind……………………………
But funny thing-…………………………………………………………
You’ll never know…………………………………………………………………..
They stared together up at the high brick walls, thinking.
“I mean… there’s always a window, right?”
“That’s what they say. I don’t believe them.”
“But there has to be… wouldn’t you lose your breath? Wouldn’t you be suffocated?”
“There’s the sky…”
“Different kind of suffocating.” She turned to her companion, inner eyebrows raised and eyes very big and sad. “I used to be like that. Isn’t that weird? And I didn’t even know it. So you’d think I’d be able to empathize…but I can’t. I can’t understand it at all. Why wouldn’t you have made a window by now?”
“Do you have windows?” She asked, surprised. She didn’t remember that on the schematic.
“Let’s just say my walls can breath,” she replied quietly. “This is why this is always so very frustrating, you know. Do you try to scale the walls, do you look for a door camoflouged as a wall (a personal favorite of hers), do you knock, do you wait? What do you do? It’s always completely different, and they don’t even know why it matters.”
Her companion scoffed ever so slightly, not in disdain but in melancholy agreement. Why does it matter?
|Dean:||Are you too busy and/or tired to text?|
|Dean:||Okay cool. Well i just wanted to tell you about laser ablation...|
I don’t buy the idea that if you are healthy then people can’t hurt you. I just don’t. I mean, how numb would we have to be to be “healthy?” No… being hurt means that your nerves are working, your neurons are firing. It means you are alive. It means you’ve loved in your life and it means that something matters to you. Being free means that you overcome that pain but never stop loving deeply.
“Well, I know you,” she said, tilting her head back as she laughed. Her silver eyes opened just widely enough to catch her friend’s blossom-pink smile wither slightly. “What?”
“Yes…I suppose you do. But not. I mean, you don’t know my language.” She regarded her more closely.
“But didn’t I translate your eyes just then?” She queried. Her brow wrinkled like the fabric of space-time had suddenly been crumpled into a ball; she shifted, unsettled (as if the thing that was unsettling her had been unsettling her for some time now).
“I speak…a lot of languages. I guess people just don’t solve people as quickly as puzzles. I mean, I can read Sarah’s eyes, and know she is saying something more than what she is saying. But I never know what it is. And when you don’t know what it is… well, the pieces just don’t fit together sometimes. I want them to. But they don’t. And I think maybe that’s true of a lot of people… We learn to read eyes, or symbols, or body language, and we think we are done. But that’s the thing… is people talk in eyes AND symbols AND body language, not just one. And all the little languages make a whole new one and I guess that’s why I’m sad. Because we miss it.”
1. THE WAY UP: On the way up we made food puns. I do not mean a *few* food puns. I mean outsiders would have questioned our sanity. But that’s okay because they would have been right. But in all honesty, I was riding with Michael and Jonathan almost the whole way, and in case I have not established this already, those guys are *fantastic.* We also had to laugh when Alex and Mitchell’s “military maneuvers” got them lost in Memphis (I’d just like you to picture this… two white guys listening to veggie tales get lost in Tennessee after trying to race the girls…too good). Also hilarious was Liana and Charlotte’s running narration of Becoming Jane, a movie that was made slightly less depressing by their reactions. Though I hafta say, if I ever want to be demoralized right before a tournament, I may *definitely* watch that movie. -.-
2. THERE: I have to say, watching the bro code get broken definitely deserves to make this list. As does psychologically intense staring contests with Alex. I also have to say, having your TP partner from last year reassuring you through your hardest event is pretty nice, too.
3. Frankly, when we entered the town I was slightly despairing. Last year was in Colorado, and what was this? A tiny little broken down town in Arkansas. But it surprised me. Because those abandoned little streets had original, adorable coffee shops that boasted all sorts of unexpected things (gluten free bread for my curried chicken salad? Yes please). And the campus was beautiful… though more dangerous than I expected. I mean, who expects the guys in your group to ram into/block your car with a THREE PERSON BIKE OF ALL THINGS??
4. I didn’t particularly plan on the tornado, either. Frankly, I think I would’ve rather faced the tornado than the crowded and overheated halls into which we were crammed like tiny little sardines.
5. Abi goes without saying. ;) Naturally talking and eating nutella and generally being in the same location is just a happy thing.
6. I discovered P.O.D.
7. We all know that guys wonder one question fairly consistently: Why do girls go to the bathroom together? Abi and I were trying to explain this to Alex, who, characteristically, was making fun of us. “No, no, you meet people! Like, you can strike up good conversations and socialize in the bathroom!” But our efforts were in vain and we went ahead to the bathroom (together, of course). And just as we said, we struck up a conversation with someone we hadn’t met. It starts with a compliment on her outfit, and then we launch into a discussion. It ends, she leaves, and Abi and I immediately turn to each other and say in sinc: “SEE????!!!!”
Now, I am all for pranks, but the guys definitely outdid themselves. You see, mom had gotten Jon and Michael a tub of chopped liver as a harmless little joke. However, this was blown greatly out of proportion after they decided to keep it (let’s face it, we all know they were plotting revenge) but forgot that meat WILL spoil after about four days at room temperature. -.- In fact, it spoiled so badly that the fumes popped the lid off, turning their once nice hotel room into… something I wouldn’t wish on the maid. Inviting the others to smell, Jon and Michael brought a crowd of guys into their room- a crowd that quickly flew back out in various doubled-over positions and faces expressing the whole gamut of human disgust. Personally, I think this was entirely their fault. But that logic was clearly not shared when they decided to destroy our hotel room. Finally retreating to my “safe haven” I found out that it was NOT so safe. Twine traversed the room like spiderwebs of death (mostly because it was wrapped around the lamps and every other conceivable thing that could fall and cause unprecedented damage and/or costs). Toilet paper hung like ornaments from basically everywhere and foil was randomly wrapped around various objects, all adding the trailer effect that I am sure they were going for. Checking the shower head, I noticed something sticking out as if one of our sabautours had lost a thumb or something; it was cool-aid. Thank God that one, at least, failed. And also, we all know that no shower cap smells like synthetic cherries, guys. I was pretty proud, actually, having spotted most of the tricks that weren’t obvious. However, approximately four in the morning I found out that they had stuck poppers and a partially opened packet of mayanaise under the toilet seat. That part was especially lovely. That was the point in which I sent the text: “Jonathan Pickman and Michael freaking Tant, my room is a minefield, and next tournament you are going DOWN.” Btw, I intent to keep that promise.
If I think of more I will add it, of course.
"Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…"
Timothy Leary (This in so many ways sums up who I *am*)
"Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place."
"I think maybe hugging you is what I want to say."
Dean (in John-Green fashion)