I Wish I Could Play Guitar

Let's face it, playing guitar is like the epitome of being a lonely heart. Why do you think that like every country song is accompanied by an acoustic guitar gently playing a simple melody as twangy words of heartbreak ring over them? I mean, the guitar, unlike the piano, is easy to pick up and keep with you whenever you feel your heart torn apart and thrown back at your feet.

So, anyway, I've always wished that I could play guitar. Not in like an "I actually want to learn to play guitar so somebody please teach me" kind of way, more in the "damn it would be awesome if I could play guitar right now and sing this really sad song that's bouncing around in my head and post a video of me singing it on YouTube and get super famous and have that stupid boy who made me write the song in the first place totally regret not asking me out" kind of way.

There's something liberating about feeling like you're able to share your emotions at the drop of a hat and that those feelings can be spread around to millions (but more realistically the two people and my mother who actually pay attention to the things I post) instantly for them to relate to and commiserate with and the like. Sure, I don't actually need a guitar to do that. I mean, duh, I have this blog, but a guitar would totally make me fancier (and have more becoming the next Taylor Swift potential).

But enough about guitars (for now at least) the point is that it's nice to know that you can put what you're thinking out there and that someone else, somewhere in the world, may find some solace in recognizing that they aren't alone in wishing that they could play guitar (see how I brought it back?) or more importantly, that they aren't the only ones who feel the pang of rejection without ever actually taking the risk that could have helped them find true happiness or who are so desperate to fall in love that they sabotage any potential chance because they're more afraid it won't live up to their expectations than they are of being alone forever.

Heavy stuff, I know, but that's what it's about. It's about feeling comfortable and confident enough to admit the faults that you disguise as immaturity are deeply ingrained values you can't break free of. It's about being willing to shout out to the world "i'm flawed" and find solidarity in a cyber universe echoing back to you in validation. It's about wishing you could play guitar and share a song with the world because you're just too full of emotions to keep them to yourself and maybe letting them loose will help you make sense of them or at least provide clarity for someone else.

And so, this is all to say, that I have returned to blogging. Lucky you!

                                                  XOXO
                                                           E

JUST ASK!

Seems like a simple command; just seven letters, two words (and an exclamation point if you really want to emphasize it). But, the concept of asking represents a confrontation with the unknown, an end to the mysteries that you are able to construct into your fantasies and a forced recognition of the realities you've tried so hard to pretend weren't there. Sure, sometimes you get the answer you're looking for, but usually, you haven't asked because a piece of you is saying that you already know the answer isn't what you want. I mean, we are intuitive beings, capable of understanding subtlety and nuance in our relationships to others. Why then do we insist that we cannot discern the answers to our desires and our fears without asking?

Okay, I know, not everybody reacts the same way or uses the same cues or whatever. Let's face it, there isn't some universally acknowledged book of romantic behaviors that we can refer to whenever we are unsure if something is meant platonically or not (someone really should get on that though.) So, yeah, there's room for interpretation and there's room for miscommunication and all of that. But, at the end of the day, if you have to ask, you aren't getting what you need from the relationship initially. Sure, you may be telling yourself that you just can't read him and maybe he just doesn't get you and you let one right move discount a hundred wrong ones.

I don't blame you. We all do it. We disguise our hurt and our sense of failure with elaborate explanations that we build up into facades around the harsh truths we've deemed too difficult to face. So, we push ourselves to ask, knowing that we don't have the courage to do so, because needing to ask suggests that there is still a choice in the answer and that we haven't found closure yet. Yeah, people always harp about how important closure is, but the truth is closure is the ultimate betrayal of our innate desire to convince ourselves that we don't know, that we can't know, and therefore we are able to write our own version of reality clouded with the underlying desires we try to pretend no longer affect us.

Ultimately, the command to ask, to find out the truth, is just another safety net to protect ourselves from falling head first into the realizations that deep down we've already confronted. The answers that we find when we ask are not the disappointments of surprise but the destructions of the dream state that we perpetuate for our own wellbeing. So, we will continue to push ourselves to ask, leaving the question lingering in the space between what we will accept as true and what we fear is true, an abyss of hopes and desires that are shrouded in the fears of deep-rooted intuition. The question doesn't seek an answer, it seeks the postponement of the inevitable confrontation between  the dreams that we have wasted our time building up around ourselves and the underlying realities that have stopped us from knocking on the door in the first place.


                                                         XOXO
                                                                  E

Blah blah "THAT GUY"...again

        He’s baaaack! And yes, if you read that in a creepy, horror movie-esque voice (hopefully followed by some sort of accompaniment from the Chuckie or Jaws soundtrack) you were absolutely correct. Now, you’d think that by now, about a year since I last posted about “that guy” I’d have figured some things out, gotten a better handle on the whole “that guy” situation. Unfortunately, I have not.

        See, the thing about “that guy” is he never appears in the same form twice. Rather, he’s like some mutated virus, worming his way into your system under the guise of some variation on his true self and you don’t know what’s happened until you’re stuck in bed for days on end with a bad case of the “he loves me, he loves me nots.”

        Why is it that “that guy” always seems to keep you guessing, flip-flopping between being head over heels in love with him and ready to write him off completely? I mean seriously, you’d think that every victim of “that guy” would wind up in some sort of mental institution from the sheer exhaust of having to analyze and re-analyze his every little mood until you wind up just as confused as when you started.

        To make matters worse, “that guy” seems to consistently remain blissfully unaware of all the pain he is causing, which also means he is probably completely blind to the fact that you actually like him. This of course, only makes you fret about the whole situation more because you can’t fathom the fact that he hasn’t figured it out by now (because seriously how dumb do you have to be?) and if he isn’t dumb than he must have figured it out and if he has and he hasn’t made a move than he must not feel the same.

        The problem with that, though, is I honestly don’t believe that you can feel something romantic that isn’t reciprocated. Sure, you can feel sexual attraction that isn’t mutual – there are plenty of celebrities who I find absolutely sexy but am fairly certain they don’t feel the same way -  but, how could you possibly spend hours upon hours with a person, laughing, sharing your lives, and then start to a feel a connection with them that isn’t there?

        I know, this may just be a lot of wishful thinking, like I’ve said, it’s hard to think straight when you’ve found yourself caught in the web of the newest “that guy” but I truly have to believe that feelings like this are mutual and it’s just a matter of one person or the other (and by that I definitely mean "that guy") getting the balls to make a move.

        Sure, people always say “I’d hate to ruin the friendship,” (or whatever other crap they delude themselves into believing makes sense for not doing what it is that everybody, except of course they themselves, can tell you both want) but can you really have a friendship that is founded on both of you holding back some part of yourself? The truth is, if a relationship or the potential for a relationship is going to ruin the friendship, it probably wasn’t that good of a friendship in the first place (which I know is cliche - but hey! it's cliche cause it makes sense so deal with it!)

        Now, I know that this is much easier said then done. Hell, even after writing this I’m no closer to making a move on my latest “that guy” or confessing my true feelings for him. Instead, I’m gonna wind up continuing down this make-you-want-to-pull-your hair out road where I spend all my time with him wondering why he isn’t making a move and all my time without him wondering whether or not there was some signal I missed when I was with him that screwed everything up.

        It’s a good thing spring is on it’s way, I’m gonna need a whole lot of flower petals to figure this one out.

                     

                       XOXO

                                E

So I'm Older...When Does the Wise Happen?

            So I’ve been gone for about six months now (hopefully I did the math right), but if you are expecting this to suddenly become a blog about a mature human being with a handle on her life and her rapidly changing emotional states, you are going to be sorely disappointed.  But, I mean, let’s be real, that would be a far less interesting blog. Nobody wants to hear about other people’s happiness, all that does is remind you how suckish your life is.

            Okay, so that may not be entirely fair to those of you who may actually have some of your life figured out, but I can’t help but feel a bit of misplaced anger towards those happy few. I mean, I recently turned 20 (woohoo – not!) and although that may not be considered old for most, that is a BIG DEAL! Sure, I’m not about to be shipped off to the nursing home (although a college dorm is a similar experience of mostly out of it people who whine about losing contact with the friends they used to spend time with) but I’m not exactly playing in the sandbox either.

            Here’s the thing about turning 20. In actuality, I have basically my entire life ahead of me. You know, I’m still in school, not yet living on my own and having to find a way to pay my own way, blah blah blah. But that’s really the kind of answer you get from parents and grandparents and other “old” people because they are just wistfully wishing they had the same opportunity to be at the start of something.

           But seriously?! Come on, do they even remember how freaking hard it is to get something started? Sure, 20 means we're at the onset of starting our lives, but that’s just it, we’re at the onset, we’re supposed to be poised to start something, at the gate and just waiting for the gun to go off so we can start our dash toward the finish line. But what happens when you aren’t ready at 20, huh? What happens when you reach 20 and you’re like “Holy Shit! I’m already freaking 20 and I am nowhere NEAR where I thought I would be by the time I got to 20”?

            People always say “As you get older you get wiser” Now, no offense to the people that always say that, but that is absolutely ridiculous. The only thing that happens as you get older is that you realize how few of your goals you’ve actually fulfilled and how completely unprepared you are to continue to grow older. I mean, we all are going to age, that’s the way that life works, but growing wiser, well, that’s really a choice that we each need to make.

Having more experiences doesn’t necessarily make you better prepared to handle those same experiences. Hell, I sometimes feel like I’m constantly repeating the same situations with the exact same results. Sure, afterwards I can recognize what the hell was going, in fact most of the time I can recognize it during, but choosing to act differently isn’t just a matter of understanding how your screwing it up, it’s also about being willing and able to make an actual change.

Being older doesn’t mean that you are wiser, it just means that you’ve had more opportunities to make the choice to change and (a lot of the time) that just means you’ve had more opportunities to make the same mistakes.

                               XOXO
                                       E

The Nobody Chronicles: Chapter Four (part three)

           So basically, I get into my room, checking my phone every two seconds (even though the ringer is on high and the vibrate is on so if anything was happening with the phone I would know without having to check it like it was my heart monitor or something,) and I plopped down on my bed feeling pretty damn lousy.

            I mean, I totally hate days like today. You know, the up and down rollercoaster days. Like, I can totally deal with a day that is just blechy or whatever, but I can’t stand those days where like something horrible happens and then something awesome happens, so you totally get your hopes up and then nothing at all happens, so your left with this sorta empty feeling even though you should be feeling happy about the awesome thing that happened. That was me today.

            Sure, the falling in front of him and the rest of the popular crew was super embarrassing, but then to have him talk to me and ask for my phone number and all that awesomeness. Seriously, of all the moments I’ve had in high school, that hallway conversation definitely falls in the top five. But instead of floating on freaking cloud nine and feeling all bubbly inside, like that time Deanna and I accidentally downed a bottle of Manischevitz at Passover thinking it was grape juice, I’m feeling totally let down, like later that night when the Manischevitz made its comeback.

            Why hadn’t he texted? Okay, so I know what you're totally thinking right now, and yes I am 100%, undeniably one of those obnoxious needy girls. I don’t even feel like I have to deny it. I mean, sure when I talk to my friends and stuff I totally try to disguise it and subdue the little miniature of myself that hangs out inside my head and starts ripping the hair out of her skull as soon as someone stops including me in the conversation, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know that I’m needy. 

            I figure every teenage girl has her secret crazy that she tries to hide from her friends at school, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t aware of what that crazy is. Sure, I may have a little more crazy tucked away then most people, but guess that’s just the luck of the draw. Some girls get enlarged mammary glands (that’s boobies for you non-scientific folk) and I got enlarged insanity glands (those aren’t real for you scientific folk). Guess you win some and you lose some. But seriously, any teenage girl who tells you that she is totally normal probably pours glues on her hands every night and peels it off slowly so she feels like she is a caterpillar shedding her cocoon and emerging as a beautiful butterfly. (Oh, and no I’m so not speaking from experience with that one but now that I’ve said it sounds like a kinda cool idea.)

Keep Reading - There MIGHT Be Something Good

       Ever feel like your life is one of those teaser trailers? You know, the ones that come out like a millennia before the movie is actually going to be released and shows you about 20 seconds of undistinguishable footage but never actually tells you anything about the movie at all? I mean, it's like all this buildup and expectation that never really progresses anywhere. Basically, you're just sorta existing in this limbo and hoping that eventually you'll find your way to the main event that you have just been anticipating for your entire life.
      Like, 98% of our lives are spent pursuing these goals that we always seem to get right up close to but never actually reach. Truth is, most of the time we are the ones who pull ourselves away at the last second, afraid of jumping off the cliff for that rope fearing the possible chance of falling. Of course, it's not like we would admit to ourselves that that's what we are doing because, that would make it vastly more difficult to blame everyone else for our problems.
      In the long run, however, it isn't the self-deprication that stings the worst, it's the possibility that we didn't take that jump because somehow we already knew what the outcome would be and that outcome was falling splat on the life's floor, broken and in need of serious repairs. And what happens then? I mean, in reality we would rather admit that it was something we did wrong, that it was our choice, then entertain the possibility that there was nothing to grab onto at all, that the decision had been made for us.
    For it is the "could-not-have beens" that burn a hole in our brains and keep us up at night tossing and turning. It is the truths that we try so hard to hide from ourselves so that we can continue to believe in some dream. Sadly, at the end of the day, it's not like this method succeeds in hurting us any less, it just hurts us differently. You know, instead of rejection and embarrassment, we only have to deal with the rejection. We can pretend on the outside that we haven't been hurt, fake that smile, and deal with all the emotions internally.
     Of course, this method also doesn't help us to grow and progress. Instead, we are caught in a loop of "previously seen on" material that only reflects and never actually gives us anything to keep coming back for. Yet, it isn't like we live in the past. Rather, we live in some alternate reality where nothing real ever happens to us. Instead, we get to create our own truth, our own successes and our own failures, all from the safety of our own minds. It is more comfortable to live in a world of silently created disappointment then to venture into a world where we have no control.
    So, here we are, stuck in some fantasy world where we suffer and triumph just as we would in the real world, but we do not share those victories and defeats for fear of judgement. Living there is not to protect us from feeling pain, but rather from the power of others to cause that pain.

             XOXO
                            E

The Nobody Chronicles: Chapter Four (part two)

           When I got home, my mother was sitting in the kitchen, sighing as she flipped through the pages of some Bridal magazine.

            “Who’s getting married?” I asked, throwing down my backpack and grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry.

            “Oh, nobody,” my mom said, giving me a judgmental look for my snack choice. 
         Trying to ignore her, I placed a handful of chips into my mouth, subsequently coughing and spitting out little flakes of chip into my cupped hands. Awkwardly, I tossed the bag into the trash and went to wash my hand. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother shaking her head as she turned back to the magazine.

            “Don’t you think your sister would look great in a wedding dress like this?” She gestured to a lacy, Cinderella type ball-gown.

            “Mom. Noa’s 14! I don’t think you’re gonna have to worry about wedding dresses just yet!” It took all of my self-control not to add that I doubted Noa would ever get married since she can’t stay with a boyfriend for a month let alone a lifetime. And anyway, even if she did get married, I doubt she would be able to wear white.

            “No, I know. I know” My mom said wistfully, flipping the pages, “I’m just so excited to get to throw a wedding. I mean, just look at how gorgeous these dresses are! You’re sister would look so beautiful in these! Oh! And look at this maid-of-honor dress, I mean, what a perfect color for you, with those beautiful blue eyes of yours.”

            “Mom!”

            “What? I said you had beautiful eyes. Why are you getting in such a huff?”

            Okay. So I should probably clear something up about my mother here before you all start making your own judgments.

            My mother is one of the most amazing women you will ever meet in your entire life. I mean, seriously, she is the type of mom who is super involved at my school, always eager to throw a party for my “friends,” super supportive of everything I attempt to be good at. But, despite all this great stuff, she has the unfortunate tendency to constantly insult me without thinking she is actually insulting me. Sure, she loves me, I never question that, just sometimes I wonder if it’s that kind of pitying love where she sorta thinks I’m a total loser and she feels guilty for allowing me to get that way.

            “I’m gonna go do some studying in my room” I said, picking up my backpack and running out before she had a chance to respond.            

            By this point my mom and I both totally know that when I tell her I’m going to “study” in my room I’m actually just going to sit on Facebook, watching everybody else’s lives and wallowing in the fact that I have absolutely nothing to do except sit on Facbeook and watch other people’s lives. But whatever, she never calls me out on it, and it got me out of the room of wedding dresses and broken dreams.