Tree Without Bark

Those who react quickly and calmly survive. Those who live very long, perhaps react slowly (viz. via a different time frame), and have other defenses that allow them to survive. Animals use their senses to avoid or overcome peril; trees develop tough skin to withstand dangers. I'm too slow for adequate logical reaction, and too frail for experiences that may wash over me.
A tree without bark.

Something I Never Published

Sometimes I wonder if I could actually perform in a job in the field I'm heading into. I struggle with completing tasks outdoors because I'm so overwhelmed and over calmed by the atmosphere of the natural world. I have a hard time concentrating with the wind wrapping her arms around me and the trees casting their scents to me. I would have to overcome the liberal arts tendencies to complete a scientific job. Sometimes I think I'm going into my major to get a job which would give me material for my liberal arts hobbies.

Who We Really Are

Currently listening to:
The World Without
A Fine Frenzy

We were talking about the past, and the present. I come to Dallas to reconnect with who I think I really am. This town is filled with memories and emotion. It's so heavy with them, I'm weighed down. It kind of sounds like my true self is the product of suppression, but I don't think that's totally the meaning.
In college I'm myself and then begin to lose myself. After some amount of time I ease into somewhat of a jerky personality. Plain and simple I can be a jerk, which surprises my friends in Dallas who only know me deep down. By jerk I mean the snarky retorts and rude returns.
Those who were with me in high school also know a jerky side. A different sort. High school was a time of such hopelessness and depression. I suppose it was as if I had a well full of myself that had to be sorted through even though by that age I hadn't experienced all that much that would need sorting. I always have daydreamed a lot and seen many pasts and many more futures that would not come to pass - in that respect I've always lived many lifetimes. Maybe that's what weighed me down in high school, made me feel so old.
The jerkiness then was more serious; now I've come to realize my current jerkiness is more a veneer and deep down I depend upon and care about those around me. She was surprised when I explained that; maybe she thought who I have been "acting" as is some cover. She asked why I revert to being a jerk in college when I could be the Dallas me. I guess everyone has some tendency they can't escape and we're always moving back and forth. Why my tendency is snarky, I don't know. I suppose I should find a way to keep myself in the Dallas me despite its occasional sadness. I'm going to take my postcard with an image of Dallas aglow back with me and see if that will help me recall. I'll just have to see how this next semester goes.

Blog Love

Once in a while I come across a blog in my search for image and writing tidbits. They aren't always on an official blogging site; sometimes they're in image storage sites, or true amateur writing entry sites. Whatever the case may be, I follow the bit to its source and explore.

The popular method for presenting short blog stories seems to be in the first person, capturing a small amount of time, not necessarily with conflict. They are very peculiar in the language they use, often drawing on aspects of nature.

So sometimes I come across a writer who does not know I exist, and I only know them through their writing. They often write of love and distance and introspective things. They are little moments; those precious ones that last an instant, and if someone like me doesn't write them down, they are gone forever. But they touch me and I come to realize that I fall for the writer a little bit. With simple, beautiful stories, I find that I love these writers - and if I were to ever contact them and get to know them, I would probably fall out of love. I guess this is the bond between the reader and writer.
*****
The only odd thing that happened today was finding two yellow jacket (?) nests lying in the grass next to the sidewalk. The smaller one ended up having a couple adults waiting to come out. I heard a papery scratching noise, but didn't think anything of it and went to class. After I got back, I watched it emerge, only it wasn't ready to fly yet. So I put a cup over it and took in into the room across the hall where Andrew opened the window. Then I picked at another cap and saw a leg poke out. The pod looked small but actually went deeper in the nest, so that last one was dumped out too. I wasn't sure what to do about it, so I duct taped the nest to the ceiling of the dorm hall. Nothing else has come out as far as I know.

Later, on the way to dinner, I found a papery nest, only it didn't have comb inside of it. Gillian believed it to be a bird nest, particularly a swallow nest. I think a bird nest is a suitable guess. So, nature collection is going well here. I just need more feathers..

To My Future Self

Currently listening to:
There is a Light That Never Goes Out
The Smiths

"Take me out tonight
oh take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care
driving in your car
I never never want to go home
because I haven't got one
no, I haven't got one"

Me? I'm nothing special. Just a spoiled kid (not a brat, though).

I think I'm a nice person, not the old LiveJournal self. I haven't really had bad dreams since that time, just dreams of longing.

Smells I don't like: gasoline and cut grass. They just won't leave my nose! And my beard smells funny to me after I eat pizza.

I've basically made the transition to being vegetarian, except in rare occasions where seafood is what there is. The people I heckle about food usually end up looking more at the ingredients of their food. I still sort of have a fear of food shortages, but I don't stockpile like I used to.

I wonder how it would feel to omit boxers from my wardrobe. I might try it for a day to see how it feels but I think I may need their added thickness to help keep my pants up. Maybe. I've also lost interest in sleeping in pajamas.

When I'm walking alone, wherever, I like to pretend I'm a wild animal. I have to be vary aware and careful of my surroundings. As the sun sets, I look up and feel remorse at losing the warmth of day.

I have an adult body. It's weird looking at it in its natural nudity.
I think I'll do more of these every so often.

People Mend

Currently listening to:
The Only Moment We Were Alone
Explosions in the Sky

Some brief thoughts,
I think I get why people are interested in religion, it's sort of a solidarity thing and maybe even an attempt at being humble. I'm not sure why there's a split where some people are stuck on the ideas and others live day to day without needing more than life and the world. I guess I'm biased, being one of the day to day people; with all my adventures and quests I just don't feel like I need anything more, something invisible.
*****

Also, there seem to be more signs I'm still a child. I understand how clinginess in its degrees can be wearying, but there's a reason for it in its place. Everyone is a child at times, needing to be dependent, needing to hold onto the fabric of someone's shirt for safety, needing an accepting heart, a patient heart; just a heart large enough to take them in. In other shoes, who's to say what's justified? Those not possessing stolid hearts can't help the feelings that overflow; they love and weep and cast drama liberally because there is less harm in it, aside from bothering the adults.

When I was young, I thought I was lucky by avoiding the drama of school. Now I realize the meaning that was collected, squeezed from each of those moments. All those little romanticists running around, loving and weeping. I've become one of them too late; a wallflower that missed its season and bloomed in winter. Alone?

Confessions of a Teenage Summer

I skipped the last half of my math class to write and eat Wisconsin cheddar.