The futility and selfishness of blogging recently dawned on me.
Nothing I put in a blog will better or further anyone's life. It is a virtual soapbox where I can pretend that I'm eloquent and pretend that I have something important to say.
But in all actuality, I really don't have anything important to say.
And I'm not that eloquent.
No one really cares what an 18 year old's thoughts are. No one really cares about an 18 year old's life. Unless you're on reality TV... which is stupid.
People only care about stupid things.
Like... do people read my blog? WHO CARES! It's unimportant, trivial.
So many of the things people care about most are trivial.
And the only time you need trivia is when you play Trivial Pursuit or if you're making small talk and are trying to sound witty/intelligent/random/suave/etc...
Why do people care? Really?
So... I'm going on an indefinite hiatus from blogging until I can find some meaningful, humble reason to blog.
peace,
-eleanor
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Part I and Part II: Completely Unrelated
Part I
There comes a time when life starts to get the better of you, and you just have to take a step back, take a deep breath, and look at things in perspective. Perhaps things will not run as smoothly as you planned, and perhaps your won't get that certain grade you so badly wanted. But priorities must be established, and the realization that you are not, in fact, superman, must dawn on you sooner or later. Better now than in the middle of a midlife crisis, as I like to think of it.
So organization is reassessed.
Certain communication is re-prioritized.
And the idea of prayer is re-evaluated.
Maybe I really can't do things on my own.
Part II
I always find it both touching and amusing when people come to me for relationship advice. Touching, because I'm honored do be seen as trustworthy and reliable. Amusing, because I have practically no personal experience to draw upon to help them out. However, I always end up saying things that, well, make sense... and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe giving relationship advice has less to do with actually having been in a relationship, and more to do with a history of anti-climatic infatuations and innate empathy and insight.
If you need a pick me up, or need a slap in the face, or anything in between, here are some of my thoughts on the matter:
-"Taking a break" from a relationship doesn't work well. How can you be both in a relationship and out of a relationship at the same time? Exactly. You can't.
-Most high school boys, and many college boys, and a surprising number of "adult" boys, lack the mental maturity to handle relationships well with intelligent, witty young women. (While we're on this, I must be completely fair: Many high school girls, many college girls, and a surprising number of "adult" girls, lack mental maturity to handle well-rounded relationships, too.)
-Don't idealize. Don't jump back into situations that were hurtful because the past has been romanticized. Memories do not always replicate the truth of reality.
-High school is a bubble, so it seems like everything. But it's not everything. And the fact that it's not is a beautiful thing.
-No boy/girl should ever make you feel the need to live up to his/her standards. He/she should make you feel perfect, not make you feel the need to attain an obscure "perfection."
-The prospect of being alone can be frightening, but not dating someone does not necessarily equate to being alone. Being alone can stem from a number of things, whether or not you're dating somebody.
-If you're single, you get to jam out to Beyonce's "Single Ladies." Yes, guys, that means you, too. "WhatWHAT!"--Burton Guster, "Psych"
And to close, a favorite quote of mine:
We have, as human beings always have had, an instinctive admiration for those who are apparently supermen, and our acknowledgement that we are not heroes goes with a sneaking with that we were, and a fear of what it involves.
-J.C.B. Gosling
Peace,
eleanor
There comes a time when life starts to get the better of you, and you just have to take a step back, take a deep breath, and look at things in perspective. Perhaps things will not run as smoothly as you planned, and perhaps your won't get that certain grade you so badly wanted. But priorities must be established, and the realization that you are not, in fact, superman, must dawn on you sooner or later. Better now than in the middle of a midlife crisis, as I like to think of it.
So organization is reassessed.
Certain communication is re-prioritized.
And the idea of prayer is re-evaluated.
Maybe I really can't do things on my own.
Part II
I always find it both touching and amusing when people come to me for relationship advice. Touching, because I'm honored do be seen as trustworthy and reliable. Amusing, because I have practically no personal experience to draw upon to help them out. However, I always end up saying things that, well, make sense... and I'm not quite sure why. Maybe giving relationship advice has less to do with actually having been in a relationship, and more to do with a history of anti-climatic infatuations and innate empathy and insight.
If you need a pick me up, or need a slap in the face, or anything in between, here are some of my thoughts on the matter:
-"Taking a break" from a relationship doesn't work well. How can you be both in a relationship and out of a relationship at the same time? Exactly. You can't.
-Most high school boys, and many college boys, and a surprising number of "adult" boys, lack the mental maturity to handle relationships well with intelligent, witty young women. (While we're on this, I must be completely fair: Many high school girls, many college girls, and a surprising number of "adult" girls, lack mental maturity to handle well-rounded relationships, too.)
-Don't idealize. Don't jump back into situations that were hurtful because the past has been romanticized. Memories do not always replicate the truth of reality.
-High school is a bubble, so it seems like everything. But it's not everything. And the fact that it's not is a beautiful thing.
-No boy/girl should ever make you feel the need to live up to his/her standards. He/she should make you feel perfect, not make you feel the need to attain an obscure "perfection."
-The prospect of being alone can be frightening, but not dating someone does not necessarily equate to being alone. Being alone can stem from a number of things, whether or not you're dating somebody.
-If you're single, you get to jam out to Beyonce's "Single Ladies." Yes, guys, that means you, too. "WhatWHAT!"--Burton Guster, "Psych"
And to close, a favorite quote of mine:
We have, as human beings always have had, an instinctive admiration for those who are apparently supermen, and our acknowledgement that we are not heroes goes with a sneaking with that we were, and a fear of what it involves.
-J.C.B. Gosling
Peace,
eleanor
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Perhaps I'd Like a Sundial.
I've decided that the concept of time is too complicated to think about, let alone deal with. Especially when you look at the clock, then the next time you look at it, two hours have passed, and although you've been working diligently without any distractions, you have accomplished almost nothing.
Thus, I am considering doing away with time altogether. Perhaps this sounds drastic. Perhaps this sounds confusing. Perhaps this sounds just plain stupid.
But hold yer horses, cowboys, because guess what? I have logic behind it all! Here's my reasoning:
I have just over three weeks of school left before spring break, meaning a mere 17 week days...
... 2 of those days I won't be at school...
... 8 of those days will include rehearsals...
... 2 of those days will include shows...
... 3 of those days will include auditions...
... I have to read 2 novels over the next 3 weeks...
... and I have at least 3 papers due over the next 3 weeks...
... plus my normal tests that will have to happen before the quarter ends...
... on top of my regular homework...
... and I can work solidly for hours and still feel unaccomplished.
Because sleep has to be squeezed in there somewhere, I added up all these factors and decided that Time Is Stupid and Much Too Much of a Hassle.
Side note: The last two days were a turning point... I've begun to find Facebook to be unimportant.
Back to topic: I've even begun contemplating such clichéd phrases as "What would you do if you didn't have to sleep?" And I don't like contemplating clichéd phrases! Especially not that one, since I rather enjoy sleeping.
But the fact of the matter is, a college-bound 18-year-old can probably last through a five-day school week on 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night, consecutively. After all, my friend Angela once went 2 or 3 days without sleeping at all, while being the lead in her school's fall production, and she's still kickin'.
... Except that Chris has severely warned me against sleep deprivation.
... And not getting enough sleep makes me wacky, in the not-good sense of the word.
... But grades still matter, especially when exemptions and scholarship money are on the line.
So my question for YOU, darling pumpkins, is this:
What's the lesser of two evils? Not enough sleep or not enough time to complete assignments?
If I don't post for a while, you know why.
peace,
-eleanor
Thus, I am considering doing away with time altogether. Perhaps this sounds drastic. Perhaps this sounds confusing. Perhaps this sounds just plain stupid.
But hold yer horses, cowboys, because guess what? I have logic behind it all! Here's my reasoning:
I have just over three weeks of school left before spring break, meaning a mere 17 week days...
... 2 of those days I won't be at school...
... 8 of those days will include rehearsals...
... 2 of those days will include shows...
... 3 of those days will include auditions...
... I have to read 2 novels over the next 3 weeks...
... and I have at least 3 papers due over the next 3 weeks...
... plus my normal tests that will have to happen before the quarter ends...
... on top of my regular homework...
... and I can work solidly for hours and still feel unaccomplished.
Because sleep has to be squeezed in there somewhere, I added up all these factors and decided that Time Is Stupid and Much Too Much of a Hassle.
Side note: The last two days were a turning point... I've begun to find Facebook to be unimportant.
Back to topic: I've even begun contemplating such clichéd phrases as "What would you do if you didn't have to sleep?" And I don't like contemplating clichéd phrases! Especially not that one, since I rather enjoy sleeping.
But the fact of the matter is, a college-bound 18-year-old can probably last through a five-day school week on 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night, consecutively. After all, my friend Angela once went 2 or 3 days without sleeping at all, while being the lead in her school's fall production, and she's still kickin'.
... Except that Chris has severely warned me against sleep deprivation.
... And not getting enough sleep makes me wacky, in the not-good sense of the word.
... But grades still matter, especially when exemptions and scholarship money are on the line.
So my question for YOU, darling pumpkins, is this:
What's the lesser of two evils? Not enough sleep or not enough time to complete assignments?
If I don't post for a while, you know why.
peace,
-eleanor
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Love. And Stuff. Musings on the Topic of Valentine's Day
“I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.”
--Author Unknown
"Given that St. Valentine was a 3rd century Roman priest who was stoned and beheaded, wouldn't a more appropriate celebration of the evening be taking one's steady gal to witness a brutal murder?"
--Sheldon Cooper, PhD. The Big Bang Theory, Mondays on CBS
Just to throw you off, I'm going to write about Valentine's Day.
Quite the contrast from my last post? Perhaps. Quite necessary? Definitely.
Here goes:
Valentine's Day.
Those two words are probably either making you swoon or sending you into convulsions. You're either drooling at the prospect of some jewel-eyed Adonis, sweetly emanating the scent of cologne, carrying the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers, just for you; or you're about to vomit up any trace of love-related sentimentality you contain in your body, and direct said up-chucking in the direction of those previously described. In either case, I have two more words for you: "Chillax, brah."
This year, I've decided to reassess the situation.
Usually, I jump on the counter culture bandwagon, sporting my broken-heart earrings, tying a black ribbon in my hair, painting my nails black, and adding a touch of black eyeshadow to my usually make-up-less school appearance. Cute, right?
However, I'd be lying to myself if I said I hate Valentine's Day. Honestly, it's not that bad.
Yes, I just said that.
Valentine's Day is not that bad.
As much as I try to suppress being a romantic, I can't completely stifle romantic ideas. I would love to go on a nice date, wear a pretty dress, look all darling and lovely. I would love to be given flowers and go dancing, just us. I would love to have a late-night picnic under the stars. I would love it if I had a special someone who would put his arm around me and could just sit there, enjoying my company while I enjoyed his company, no words needed, just a deep, unspoken understanding of each other.
And that is why Valentine's Day is not that bad. It symbolizes the ideas and dreams about love which are innate in all humans, whether they want to recognize it or not. We were made to love. We need to love.
However, what makes Valentine's Day slightly... well... let me put it this way:
My problem with Valentine's Day is that it is a blatant exploitation of love.
Now, I'm not an extremely pious person, and I don't divulge in reading heavily religious books. (C.S. Lewis's "The 4 Loves" is on my list of things to read, though.) However, I do firmly believe that love should not be taken lightly. Yeah, yeah, yeah, puppy love is kinda cute and all, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather have an intellectual and meaningful relationship-- a relationship based on mutual understanding and meaningful conversation-- than a passing and shallow relationship based on physical appearance and physical actions.
The way Valentine's Day is marketed (for it truly is a consumer "holiday"), implicitly encourages the latter of the two types of "love." I put it in quotes because puppy love is not real love.
Excuse me while I slightly digress in order to make a point-- People need to learn what the word 'love' means. There is a difference between infatuation and love. Infatuations are exhilarating, stomach-twirling, anxiety-inducing, self-consciousness-supporting diddlydoos.
Love is different.
Yes, love can be exhilarating and stomach-twirling, but it is also somewhere where you feel safe, not anxious. It is a place where you are completely comfortable with yourself, completely comfortable talking about your insecurities, your confidences, your fears, and your hopes; not a place where you are self-conscious.
And now I bring my digression back to relevancy: If people seriously assess the institution of Valentine's Day and incorporate it more thoughtfully into their lives, it may actually bear more meaning. Here are some suggestions:
Celebrate the meaningful relationships in your life, regardless of whether or not they are "romantic."
Let down your guard for a bit and appreciate the beauty of love, in its truest sense.
Send some special thoughts in the direction of the people you care about.
Smile.
Give the prospect of love a chance.
Know that you're beautiful/handsome even if you don't feel so.
Before you say, "You hypocrite child, you!," I too am working on taking my own suggestions. I've decided to make Valentine's Day different this year, something beyond the greeting cards, chocolate hearts, and teddy bears. I've decided to make Valentine's Day something meaningful, regardless of my current relationship status.
So, I surrender, spiteful feelings. Bitterness is overrated, anyway. I won't get any farther in life by throwing daggers at Cupid's dance party, so I may as well join the dance myself... but with better dance moves of course. Duh.
Are you with me?
peace.
-eleanor
--Author Unknown
"Given that St. Valentine was a 3rd century Roman priest who was stoned and beheaded, wouldn't a more appropriate celebration of the evening be taking one's steady gal to witness a brutal murder?"
--Sheldon Cooper, PhD. The Big Bang Theory, Mondays on CBS
Just to throw you off, I'm going to write about Valentine's Day.
Quite the contrast from my last post? Perhaps. Quite necessary? Definitely.
Here goes:
Valentine's Day.
Those two words are probably either making you swoon or sending you into convulsions. You're either drooling at the prospect of some jewel-eyed Adonis, sweetly emanating the scent of cologne, carrying the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers, just for you; or you're about to vomit up any trace of love-related sentimentality you contain in your body, and direct said up-chucking in the direction of those previously described. In either case, I have two more words for you: "Chillax, brah."
This year, I've decided to reassess the situation.
Usually, I jump on the counter culture bandwagon, sporting my broken-heart earrings, tying a black ribbon in my hair, painting my nails black, and adding a touch of black eyeshadow to my usually make-up-less school appearance. Cute, right?
However, I'd be lying to myself if I said I hate Valentine's Day. Honestly, it's not that bad.
Yes, I just said that.
Valentine's Day is not that bad.
As much as I try to suppress being a romantic, I can't completely stifle romantic ideas. I would love to go on a nice date, wear a pretty dress, look all darling and lovely. I would love to be given flowers and go dancing, just us. I would love to have a late-night picnic under the stars. I would love it if I had a special someone who would put his arm around me and could just sit there, enjoying my company while I enjoyed his company, no words needed, just a deep, unspoken understanding of each other.
And that is why Valentine's Day is not that bad. It symbolizes the ideas and dreams about love which are innate in all humans, whether they want to recognize it or not. We were made to love. We need to love.
However, what makes Valentine's Day slightly... well... let me put it this way:
My problem with Valentine's Day is that it is a blatant exploitation of love.
Now, I'm not an extremely pious person, and I don't divulge in reading heavily religious books. (C.S. Lewis's "The 4 Loves" is on my list of things to read, though.) However, I do firmly believe that love should not be taken lightly. Yeah, yeah, yeah, puppy love is kinda cute and all, but when it comes down to it, I'd rather have an intellectual and meaningful relationship-- a relationship based on mutual understanding and meaningful conversation-- than a passing and shallow relationship based on physical appearance and physical actions.
The way Valentine's Day is marketed (for it truly is a consumer "holiday"), implicitly encourages the latter of the two types of "love." I put it in quotes because puppy love is not real love.
Excuse me while I slightly digress in order to make a point-- People need to learn what the word 'love' means. There is a difference between infatuation and love. Infatuations are exhilarating, stomach-twirling, anxiety-inducing, self-consciousness-supporting diddlydoos.
Love is different.
Yes, love can be exhilarating and stomach-twirling, but it is also somewhere where you feel safe, not anxious. It is a place where you are completely comfortable with yourself, completely comfortable talking about your insecurities, your confidences, your fears, and your hopes; not a place where you are self-conscious.
And now I bring my digression back to relevancy: If people seriously assess the institution of Valentine's Day and incorporate it more thoughtfully into their lives, it may actually bear more meaning. Here are some suggestions:
Celebrate the meaningful relationships in your life, regardless of whether or not they are "romantic."
Let down your guard for a bit and appreciate the beauty of love, in its truest sense.
Send some special thoughts in the direction of the people you care about.
Smile.
Give the prospect of love a chance.
Know that you're beautiful/handsome even if you don't feel so.
Before you say, "You hypocrite child, you!," I too am working on taking my own suggestions. I've decided to make Valentine's Day different this year, something beyond the greeting cards, chocolate hearts, and teddy bears. I've decided to make Valentine's Day something meaningful, regardless of my current relationship status.
So, I surrender, spiteful feelings. Bitterness is overrated, anyway. I won't get any farther in life by throwing daggers at Cupid's dance party, so I may as well join the dance myself... but with better dance moves of course. Duh.
Are you with me?
peace.
-eleanor
Friday, February 11, 2011
I used to dream of Prince Charming
I used to dream of Prince Charming
who would steal my breath at first
sight, then carry me away into the fading light
of the sunset
while my hair fluttered gently,
kissing the air behind us
like a whisper.
"I won."
But seventh grade came
and went.
"No boy will ever like you
Because
You
Are
Too
Smart."
I used to dream of Prince Acceptable
who would be the person I thought
I needed to fill the empty spot
residing in the tucked away corner
of a teenage heart--
the corner that needs to feel
accepted,
included,
loved.
But sweet sixteen came
and went.
Never been kissed.
Seventeen came
and went,
with a moral to the story:
Don't jump in. It hurts.
I used to believe any Prince
would somehow find my whereabouts,
though it would be difficult for him to find a route
through the maze of the
Heart I now possess.
He hasn't.
("No. She was never asked on dates. She was never anyone's 'steady gal,' really. Good story, huh?")
So I don't believe
The words my friends tell me--
You're beautiful. You're talented. You're a joy to be around--
Because nothing
(of consequence)
Has proven them true.
And I can't believe.
Because late at night
I still feel unloved.
Like in a lame, sappy movie.
(I hate lame, sappy movies.)
And I won't believe.
Because I am
afraid.
I used to believe in Prince Charming
until I realized that I am afraid
of being hurt, or of being made
into something untouchable.
I want someone to hold me,
but I'm afraid to give in.
I want someone to tell me
"You're amazing,"
but I'm afraid I won't believe it.
I want someone to call my own,
but I'm afraid I'll hurt him.
or myself.
So I don't believe.
I can't believe.
I won't believe.
Prince Charming.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Fudge without the Chocolate Implication
I learned a new word today.
And... well... fuck, mate, I didn't really learn it today. I just... I learned it's fucking value!
It's fucking crazy how one baisante professeur is able to expand the fucking vocabulary of her students in their native fucking language, yet not in the language she's supposed to be fucking teaching us.
But I guess it's something to thank her for?
I can't fucking thank her for saying my "lack of confidence in the language is sickening," after all. That'd be fucking stupid of me.
Nor can I thank her for making me cry, fucking bawl my eyes out, TWO TIMES this year. In class. Then telling me I'm a fucking bat-shit crazy loon.
I can't thank her for dismissing our questions about grammar in class, for fucking telling us that what we learn "really isn't that hard." Because guess what? It fucking is. Because we don't fucking know the language.
No, I cannot thank her for much more than forcing me to incorporate a new word into my English vocabulary and for doing a fucking creepy Shirley Temple imitation during class instead of fucking teaching us.
I learned a new word today. Can you guess what it is?
peace.
-eleanor
And... well... fuck, mate, I didn't really learn it today. I just... I learned it's fucking value!
It's fucking crazy how one baisante professeur is able to expand the fucking vocabulary of her students in their native fucking language, yet not in the language she's supposed to be fucking teaching us.
But I guess it's something to thank her for?
I can't fucking thank her for saying my "lack of confidence in the language is sickening," after all. That'd be fucking stupid of me.
Nor can I thank her for making me cry, fucking bawl my eyes out, TWO TIMES this year. In class. Then telling me I'm a fucking bat-shit crazy loon.
I can't thank her for dismissing our questions about grammar in class, for fucking telling us that what we learn "really isn't that hard." Because guess what? It fucking is. Because we don't fucking know the language.
No, I cannot thank her for much more than forcing me to incorporate a new word into my English vocabulary and for doing a fucking creepy Shirley Temple imitation during class instead of fucking teaching us.
I learned a new word today. Can you guess what it is?
peace.
-eleanor
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