Love
is a strange
Thing.
Tomorrow
looms ahead,
eternally.
Sometimes, I
pray.
Often, however,
odious thoughts
never cease...
Existentialism is a frightening, frightening thing. It all means something, right? It has to.
Even if it doesn't, however, we create our own meaning. Kierkegaard was a highly influential man, but I'm afraid I don't understand him. I wish I could ask his namesake, but alas, he is a schnauzer. I wish I could ask the owner of that schnauzer, but she is aloof and buried in a line of poetry somewhere.
God has given me a reminder, however. I feel it every time I look down and see half of a fish imprinted on my ankle.
The fact that I'm here for a reason, that I might very well have been dead right now, is far too humbling for my tired brain to comprehend right now. Maybe ever.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Irony, perhaps?
The following is found on a crumply piece of coffee-stained paper that has lived at the bottom of my awesome red backpack for the past few days. It is covered in doodles, which are primarily in blue ink, and messy, scribbled words, which are primarily in black ink.
My favorite doodle, incidentally, is of a man smoking a joint wearing a top hat, professing his love for cheese in German. But I digress.
Ahem:
"Every so often in life, the beauty of existence just hits you. You realize life is important, that every single still-frame means something, is designed as perfect.
One would think that this sort of epiphany would strike in some sort of meaningful time and place, such as beholding the beauty of a vast canyon or the towering Alps, or perhaps the precise moment you look into your child's eyes for the first time.
But sometimes it happens when you least expect it, such as when you are sitting alone [and very very still] in a sea of unique, important, beautiful individuals, moving and talking and breathing, in a college bookstore in a strange town, which itself is surrounded, surrounded by dust and a vast expanse of breathtakingly blue sky, and Earth that expands infinitely into the horizon.
...But then, the compelling urgency of documentation and language itself and the simple passing of time and colors and sounds distract, and the feeling is gone, as fleeting and intangible as sand that's slipped through fingers, fingers that ache for that feeling just one more time...
And all we can do is remember."
And here I choose to end this; more ramblings on the hindering nature of language litter the page, but I shan't include it. Mostly because I'm way tired, but partly because I don't necessarily agree with it. Where would I be without language?
E.B., you do not know it, but you remain a very influential individual in my life.
My favorite doodle, incidentally, is of a man smoking a joint wearing a top hat, professing his love for cheese in German. But I digress.
Ahem:
"Every so often in life, the beauty of existence just hits you. You realize life is important, that every single still-frame means something, is designed as perfect.
One would think that this sort of epiphany would strike in some sort of meaningful time and place, such as beholding the beauty of a vast canyon or the towering Alps, or perhaps the precise moment you look into your child's eyes for the first time.
But sometimes it happens when you least expect it, such as when you are sitting alone [and very very still] in a sea of unique, important, beautiful individuals, moving and talking and breathing, in a college bookstore in a strange town, which itself is surrounded, surrounded by dust and a vast expanse of breathtakingly blue sky, and Earth that expands infinitely into the horizon.
...But then, the compelling urgency of documentation and language itself and the simple passing of time and colors and sounds distract, and the feeling is gone, as fleeting and intangible as sand that's slipped through fingers, fingers that ache for that feeling just one more time...
And all we can do is remember."
And here I choose to end this; more ramblings on the hindering nature of language litter the page, but I shan't include it. Mostly because I'm way tired, but partly because I don't necessarily agree with it. Where would I be without language?
E.B., you do not know it, but you remain a very influential individual in my life.
Capitalization
Yes, I am bugged by incorrect capitalization. Quite bugged.
So bugged, in fact, that I cannot even bear to re-read my first post on this blog.
For clarification, it was an experiment. Like I stated previously, I am most disgusted with blatantly misspelled words and non-capitalization merely because one is just too lazy to reach a tired pinky that extra half-inch to the "Shift" key. That makes me want to pull my hair out.
The reason I did it, however, was to show just how bound by conventions we are. Just because of some people long ago who came up with our present system,we are bound to capitalize some words and to leave others in just lower case. We as writers don't get to decide what words are important, worthy to be granted a capital letter in front. No, that is decided for us; we don't get any say in the matter. I wanted to challenge this.
Of course, don't get me wrong; I'm not the first brilliant mind that has stumbled across this notion. Goodness no. One poet comes to mind, whom I first came across about 5 years ago, in February 2005. His name is, appropriately, e.e. cummings.
I recommend his poems, particularly "dying is fine)but Death."
In a related topic, anecdotally speaking, self-esteem is linked to name capitalization. Again, this may only hold true in the life of Sherri.
If I look back at past emails and whatnot, I know without a doubt that I refrained from capitalizing my name at the bottom of emails because I didn't think it was worthy of being given a capital letter.
I urge you to think about how much of your life you think you have control over, but really you do not.
--Sherri
it is the Meaning behind something that holds importance, not the thing Itself.
So bugged, in fact, that I cannot even bear to re-read my first post on this blog.
For clarification, it was an experiment. Like I stated previously, I am most disgusted with blatantly misspelled words and non-capitalization merely because one is just too lazy to reach a tired pinky that extra half-inch to the "Shift" key. That makes me want to pull my hair out.
The reason I did it, however, was to show just how bound by conventions we are. Just because of some people long ago who came up with our present system,we are bound to capitalize some words and to leave others in just lower case. We as writers don't get to decide what words are important, worthy to be granted a capital letter in front. No, that is decided for us; we don't get any say in the matter. I wanted to challenge this.
Of course, don't get me wrong; I'm not the first brilliant mind that has stumbled across this notion. Goodness no. One poet comes to mind, whom I first came across about 5 years ago, in February 2005. His name is, appropriately, e.e. cummings.
I recommend his poems, particularly "dying is fine)but Death."
In a related topic, anecdotally speaking, self-esteem is linked to name capitalization. Again, this may only hold true in the life of Sherri.
If I look back at past emails and whatnot, I know without a doubt that I refrained from capitalizing my name at the bottom of emails because I didn't think it was worthy of being given a capital letter.
I urge you to think about how much of your life you think you have control over, but really you do not.
--Sherri
it is the Meaning behind something that holds importance, not the thing Itself.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Mom
Mom, I love you, so so so much.
You've always been kind of insane; we both know that.
I make my bed every single day now. I don't even know why I do it. I think some subtle part of me longs to be like you.
I've always considered you to be the most beautiful woman I know. Sweet, non-interfering (haha.. at least with people other than your children), and still somewhat timid, you have always been there for me.
Two years ago, when I started college, you wrote me a letter on crumply yellow legal pad paper. I lost it; for this I'm sorry. But I didn't lose the message: that you are proud of me and that you'll never forget that we have, out of anyone in our family, been together the longest, and that for a while each other is all we had.
I'll never forget that either, mom. Ever ever. I'm sorry I don't call you every single day, like you did for your mom. Know that even when I don't call, I think about you very often, and that a picture taken in fall 1990 of you and me hangs above my bed.
While you'll probably never read this, I think it's important that it's documented. Out there somewhere in the infinite abyss of tired and lonely souls' late night confessions that comprises a large segment of the internet.
I can't wait to see you again.
P.S. I bawled too, when you left on the RV trip this summer. I get my disdain for goodbyes from you, I believe.
You've always been kind of insane; we both know that.
I make my bed every single day now. I don't even know why I do it. I think some subtle part of me longs to be like you.
I've always considered you to be the most beautiful woman I know. Sweet, non-interfering (haha.. at least with people other than your children), and still somewhat timid, you have always been there for me.
Two years ago, when I started college, you wrote me a letter on crumply yellow legal pad paper. I lost it; for this I'm sorry. But I didn't lose the message: that you are proud of me and that you'll never forget that we have, out of anyone in our family, been together the longest, and that for a while each other is all we had.
I'll never forget that either, mom. Ever ever. I'm sorry I don't call you every single day, like you did for your mom. Know that even when I don't call, I think about you very often, and that a picture taken in fall 1990 of you and me hangs above my bed.
While you'll probably never read this, I think it's important that it's documented. Out there somewhere in the infinite abyss of tired and lonely souls' late night confessions that comprises a large segment of the internet.
I can't wait to see you again.
P.S. I bawled too, when you left on the RV trip this summer. I get my disdain for goodbyes from you, I believe.
In the words of Michael Franti...
"The more I see, the less I know."
Yep. That's about right. In the past I've started many a blog. It's true; I admit it. I was (and apparently still am) one of those individuals that pours out his or her inner thoughts, emotions, and musings to the internet.
In all likelihood, this will not be read. My primary intent is just to write; I find that the more I do, the better I seem to become. I enjoy it, really.
That being said, I will probably not write with regularity. I have found, through living, mostly, that you cannot really take life too seriously. Life will be how it's supposed to be.
On to some actual ... thoughts, ideas, what-have-you, instead of this fluff-garbage I seem to be so apt at spewing out unceremonially and without ceasing:
1. i enjoy breaking conventions, sometimes. when done purposefully, it, in my opinion, can be construed as artsy and meaningful. when done out of mere ignorance/ laziness, however, it irks me up the wrong tree.
2. i love rain. i very, very much love rain. today i walked under canopies of green, grinning as hard as my face muscles possibly could. i ran barefoot in lake-sized puddles. i met a worm.
most importantly, i suppose, i felt alive.
3. i believe it is vital for a person to feel alive, as much as possible. in a novel i'm reading entitled, "Kitchen Table Wisdom," by Rachel Naomi Remen, she at one point puts it simply: "What we do to survive is often different from what we may need to do in order to live."
4. i love fellow human beings very deeply, as we all do. a man who was wise for his years, my 9th grade english teacher, once told me that you take a tiny piece of every person you meet, and in turn you give a tiny piece of yourself to that person. these people may be vital to one's life, such as your mother or your best friend. or, they could also simply be those people we pass every day on the street, shuffling mindlessly past on our mindless paths to nowhere. we are all more alike than we think.
i recommend the song "Braided Hair," by 1 Giant Leap.
5. i rarely stop, once i start prattling on like some pretentious prick, some elitist snob of a sweater-wearing, blue-eyed idealist 20 year old young woman. i think i'm wise, because i have been through a lot [whatever that means...]. and, you know, in some ways i am.
i have much to learn. a wise man (without whom i would literally not be sitting here typing this today, the 22nd of September, 2010) who i once hated and now respect once told me that if you are still alive, you still have lessons to learn. i believe that vehemently.
6. appreciating all of the beautiful intricacies of life is of supreme importance to me. God has blessed me greatly, in more ways than i can even fathom or type here on this already too-long blog post. that is why i am most frustrated and even quite annoyed at useless pessimism and complaining.
life is beautiful; it is not always beautiful in the conventional sense of the word, but how it all fits together? that can certainly only be described as eerily beautiful, unfathomably so.
7. i love showering. like i said earlier in this long post, taking life too seriously can really only lead to trouble. it's good to theorize, philosophize, and get very bogged down with life and what everything means.
on the flip side, you've got to come up for air.
I tire of using unconventional spelling. Gah. My goodness. It's certainly time to get naked and start the revolution. And by revolution I mean shower.
Yep. That's about right. In the past I've started many a blog. It's true; I admit it. I was (and apparently still am) one of those individuals that pours out his or her inner thoughts, emotions, and musings to the internet.
In all likelihood, this will not be read. My primary intent is just to write; I find that the more I do, the better I seem to become. I enjoy it, really.
That being said, I will probably not write with regularity. I have found, through living, mostly, that you cannot really take life too seriously. Life will be how it's supposed to be.
On to some actual ... thoughts, ideas, what-have-you, instead of this fluff-garbage I seem to be so apt at spewing out unceremonially and without ceasing:
1. i enjoy breaking conventions, sometimes. when done purposefully, it, in my opinion, can be construed as artsy and meaningful. when done out of mere ignorance/ laziness, however, it irks me up the wrong tree.
2. i love rain. i very, very much love rain. today i walked under canopies of green, grinning as hard as my face muscles possibly could. i ran barefoot in lake-sized puddles. i met a worm.
most importantly, i suppose, i felt alive.
3. i believe it is vital for a person to feel alive, as much as possible. in a novel i'm reading entitled, "Kitchen Table Wisdom," by Rachel Naomi Remen, she at one point puts it simply: "What we do to survive is often different from what we may need to do in order to live."
4. i love fellow human beings very deeply, as we all do. a man who was wise for his years, my 9th grade english teacher, once told me that you take a tiny piece of every person you meet, and in turn you give a tiny piece of yourself to that person. these people may be vital to one's life, such as your mother or your best friend. or, they could also simply be those people we pass every day on the street, shuffling mindlessly past on our mindless paths to nowhere. we are all more alike than we think.
i recommend the song "Braided Hair," by 1 Giant Leap.
5. i rarely stop, once i start prattling on like some pretentious prick, some elitist snob of a sweater-wearing, blue-eyed idealist 20 year old young woman. i think i'm wise, because i have been through a lot [whatever that means...]. and, you know, in some ways i am.
i have much to learn. a wise man (without whom i would literally not be sitting here typing this today, the 22nd of September, 2010) who i once hated and now respect once told me that if you are still alive, you still have lessons to learn. i believe that vehemently.
6. appreciating all of the beautiful intricacies of life is of supreme importance to me. God has blessed me greatly, in more ways than i can even fathom or type here on this already too-long blog post. that is why i am most frustrated and even quite annoyed at useless pessimism and complaining.
life is beautiful; it is not always beautiful in the conventional sense of the word, but how it all fits together? that can certainly only be described as eerily beautiful, unfathomably so.
7. i love showering. like i said earlier in this long post, taking life too seriously can really only lead to trouble. it's good to theorize, philosophize, and get very bogged down with life and what everything means.
on the flip side, you've got to come up for air.
I tire of using unconventional spelling. Gah. My goodness. It's certainly time to get naked and start the revolution. And by revolution I mean shower.
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