List the tribes you belong to: cultural, personal, literary, you get the drift. Talk about the experience of being in your element with your tribes.
Well, I think I belong to a literary tribe. I have enough friends that are into studying English, or read, or both, and I really feel like these are my people. I like people that challenge me. I want to be around people that are smarter than me, and I think English students and readers are intelligent people. I'm not saying that people who don't read are not intelligent, because many of them are, but I feel a special connection to people that read books and talk about them.
When I meet a woman for example, I am instantly more attracted if I find out she reads. I don't know if it works that I'm turned off if she doesn't, though maybe it does. I feel like there is a connection there that I want, and I want to be able to talk about books, share books, recommend books, and generally share a love of reading.
With school lately, I feel like i have neglected my reading, and I have only finished a handful of books compared to how much I had been reading last year. I took some classes last year that had me reading a book every week or better, and even then I checked out some books from the library to read on my own, too.
I'm not saying I'm the fastest reader, and maybe I'm not. I know sometimes I will set a book down for a long time and not read anything from it for weeks and even months sometimes. I do prefer to have a few books going at a time, and I do like the feeling of finishing a book. Finishing a book gives me this (false?) sense of accomplishment. Maybe I remember high school when I wouldn't finish books if I didn't like them. I certainly had books that I loved and would read all the way through, and I think I probably read most of what was assigned, but I can remember not finishing certain books because I didn't know how to manage my time.
I'm a lot better at time management now, and life in general. I am by no means an expert reader. or an expert at life for that matter, but I have figured some things out. You can't take things too seriously, or believe that they have any more impact then they really do when things don't go your way. Like I always say, I do lead a charmed life and I am very privileged to have incredible people in my life and to have more come in every year. I do feel like a part of a tribe with these people. I'm still looking for my own voice in a way, but I am happy.
Part of The Scintilla Project.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
In the Middle of Believing (Blog)
Talk about an experience with faith, your own or someone else's
My parents tried to raise me as a Christian. Most of the parts of my name have Biblical origins. About the time I was allowed to decide, though, I stopped going to church. I think it works for some people, but maybe not for me. When I say "works," I mean that it enriches their lives. I have had positive experiences with church, and I have met some very good people who were church goers. I'm not saying that religion is no good for anyone. I think a religious person with great values can be a rewarding friend to have.
Lately I have gravitated towards atheists and agnostics, though. This is not to say that I fall concretely into one of these categories myself, because I don't, but I can appreciate the sensibilities of these people. To be clear, I believe in something, but I don't think it's any conventional idea of God, or at least the Christian version anyway.
I think there is a balance, and I think that karma, or retribution exists. I think there is something to law of attraction maybe, but some of the people that write about that quote the Bible, too. I would like to have faith in something, whether it be a person, or love in general, or my own abilities to get through life.
I sound like I'm describing the Force from Star Wars or something, but my ideas are that general at times. I believe in friendship and love, and I have faith that there are still good people in the world, even though I've met some that are not. I've written about being positive, and sometimes I am not always the most positive person. I do get angry, though I try not to. I'm human; I have emotions. Things upset me, people annoy me sometimes, I'm not always nice, and every once in a while I am selfish, jealous, envious, self-centered, and short-sighted. I try to make these the exception and not the rule, though. I know my own tendencies. I know myself. I try to compensate for tendencies towards imperfections that I'm aware of.
I do try to improve myself. I work on me all the time in a way. I think that's what religion is for sometimes, to work on being a better person. Of course, it's not that way for everyone, and some religions concentrate on judging others too much for my tastes. I suppose I'm straddling the fence of religious conversion, and maybe I'm pissing off both sides of the believer/agnostic dichotomy. Maybe my parents would be sad to know I don't worship their God necessarily, and my atheists friends laugh that I believe there is a mystical book in the afterlife that lists every good and bad deed I've ever done and details everything about my life (a book which I totally hope exists).
This post is for The Scintilla Project.
My parents tried to raise me as a Christian. Most of the parts of my name have Biblical origins. About the time I was allowed to decide, though, I stopped going to church. I think it works for some people, but maybe not for me. When I say "works," I mean that it enriches their lives. I have had positive experiences with church, and I have met some very good people who were church goers. I'm not saying that religion is no good for anyone. I think a religious person with great values can be a rewarding friend to have.
Lately I have gravitated towards atheists and agnostics, though. This is not to say that I fall concretely into one of these categories myself, because I don't, but I can appreciate the sensibilities of these people. To be clear, I believe in something, but I don't think it's any conventional idea of God, or at least the Christian version anyway.
I think there is a balance, and I think that karma, or retribution exists. I think there is something to law of attraction maybe, but some of the people that write about that quote the Bible, too. I would like to have faith in something, whether it be a person, or love in general, or my own abilities to get through life.
I sound like I'm describing the Force from Star Wars or something, but my ideas are that general at times. I believe in friendship and love, and I have faith that there are still good people in the world, even though I've met some that are not. I've written about being positive, and sometimes I am not always the most positive person. I do get angry, though I try not to. I'm human; I have emotions. Things upset me, people annoy me sometimes, I'm not always nice, and every once in a while I am selfish, jealous, envious, self-centered, and short-sighted. I try to make these the exception and not the rule, though. I know my own tendencies. I know myself. I try to compensate for tendencies towards imperfections that I'm aware of.
I do try to improve myself. I work on me all the time in a way. I think that's what religion is for sometimes, to work on being a better person. Of course, it's not that way for everyone, and some religions concentrate on judging others too much for my tastes. I suppose I'm straddling the fence of religious conversion, and maybe I'm pissing off both sides of the believer/agnostic dichotomy. Maybe my parents would be sad to know I don't worship their God necessarily, and my atheists friends laugh that I believe there is a mystical book in the afterlife that lists every good and bad deed I've ever done and details everything about my life (a book which I totally hope exists).
This post is for The Scintilla Project.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
(Blog) Necessary Natural Deficits and Renewed Personality Defects
Show a part of your nature that you feel you've lost. Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?
A part of my nature that I've lost is my morose, depressed, dare I say gothic, side to my personality. I think it's a good thing to have lost that. Maybe I haven't totally lost it, because my poetry can be a little angst-ridden still. I tend to write about things that upset me at one time, or I write for therapy maybe. It's in writing that I've lost the sense that everything is so life changing.
To be honest, I am probably much more cynical than I try to portray myself as being. I like to be a positive person, or maybe appear as a positive person? I don't know if that's deceptive, but maybe I feel that if I fake it long enough I will be like that. I'm not trying to say that I don't see the best in things, because I think I tend towards that. I'm just saying that sometimes, I feel like complaining more than I do. It's exhausting being positive sometimes, and there are days I just want to admit that life sucks, 'cause it can sometimes.
I'm certainly lucky to have lead a charmed life, but there are days when I just want to move to Mars (or another side of the planet at least). I want to say goodbye to everyone I know, sell everything I own, and start a new life free from the encumbrances of material and emotional baggage that I've created in a lifetime of accumulating. I want to stop collecting and polishing my possessions; I want to not do my homework; I want to slack off a little, disconnect, unplug; eliminate distractions; burn bridges; cut ties; basically, I want to start over.
Sometimes I feel like that anyway. What if I'm doing it wrong? I certainly haven't been doing it all right. There are things I get right, but I can't say that I haven't been on the mark a bit. I've been on the mark some. I like being happy, though; it works for me. It looks good on me, dare I say. So really, at the end of the day, that's what I want: to be happy. There is still a small part of me that likes to just stew in the emotion of melancholy. It feels comfortable. But in another larger sense, that's not me anymore. It's a skin I slip into, but not one that I wear all the time. It's worth it for art's sake, but as far as life goes, I'd rather be blissfully peaceful.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
A part of my nature that I've lost is my morose, depressed, dare I say gothic, side to my personality. I think it's a good thing to have lost that. Maybe I haven't totally lost it, because my poetry can be a little angst-ridden still. I tend to write about things that upset me at one time, or I write for therapy maybe. It's in writing that I've lost the sense that everything is so life changing.
To be honest, I am probably much more cynical than I try to portray myself as being. I like to be a positive person, or maybe appear as a positive person? I don't know if that's deceptive, but maybe I feel that if I fake it long enough I will be like that. I'm not trying to say that I don't see the best in things, because I think I tend towards that. I'm just saying that sometimes, I feel like complaining more than I do. It's exhausting being positive sometimes, and there are days I just want to admit that life sucks, 'cause it can sometimes.
I'm certainly lucky to have lead a charmed life, but there are days when I just want to move to Mars (or another side of the planet at least). I want to say goodbye to everyone I know, sell everything I own, and start a new life free from the encumbrances of material and emotional baggage that I've created in a lifetime of accumulating. I want to stop collecting and polishing my possessions; I want to not do my homework; I want to slack off a little, disconnect, unplug; eliminate distractions; burn bridges; cut ties; basically, I want to start over.
Sometimes I feel like that anyway. What if I'm doing it wrong? I certainly haven't been doing it all right. There are things I get right, but I can't say that I haven't been on the mark a bit. I've been on the mark some. I like being happy, though; it works for me. It looks good on me, dare I say. So really, at the end of the day, that's what I want: to be happy. There is still a small part of me that likes to just stew in the emotion of melancholy. It feels comfortable. But in another larger sense, that's not me anymore. It's a skin I slip into, but not one that I wear all the time. It's worth it for art's sake, but as far as life goes, I'd rather be blissfully peaceful.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Out of Room (Blog)
Talk about your childhood bedroom.
My childhood bedroom was a place where I went to be alone. I had friends, but as a young child, I remember preferring to be alone, or at least that's what I told myself. I can remember a lot of time, whole summers in fact, of being depressed and just spending time in my room. When I write about my childhood, I sometimes give the idea that is was a miserable one, and in a way it was. I had all of the modern conveniences, though, and my parents were relatively good parents, even great parents. I don't mean to say the were bad in any way; I just think that maybe they were not ready.
My room was a place that I could be me. It was a place I could sing and dance and read, and no one would judge me. I eventually realized that these things could be true outside of my room, too, but for a long time, my only true friends that I opened up to, for real, were my journals, poems, and books.
I remember meeting one young lady who called me out on my reclusive tendencies. She asked me why I was at home on a Friday night and not out doing something. I know someone had probably said this to me before, but I remember this time specifically, because I can remember defending my position. "But I like being by myself. I like reading and organizing my comic book collection." This is definitely one of those "if I could go back in time and knock myself upside the head I would" moments . "If a girl wants to hang out with you, young Jeremy, drop the comic book and go out."
I've gone through times in my life that I wanted to drop everything nerdy about me and start over, because I regretted how much of my life I had wasted on it. In a way, my life started late, and it wasn't until someone pointed it out to me like she did that I realized I wasn't really living. I'm not saying that nerdy stuff doesn't have its place, and I've embraced that side of me, but I have realized that these things shouldn't consume your life.
There is a psychological process that "late bloomers" go through, and it definitely happened to me. I knew I had to move forward, but I was resentful that I had wasted so much time. Life is a continual process and I still have things I'm working on to this day. But I did get out, I did start talking to people, I did start making friends, and I did make things better. There are still times when I feel like the most socially awkward person in the entire universe. But I realize now that it's okay to feel awkward as long as I'm trying.
The end of the story with the girl is that I did hang out with her a little bit. It wasn't easy for me, though, and I resisted the process still tooth and claw. I felt so safe being the way I was that I didn't want to let it go. Even though I had my moments with her (I kissed a girl and I definitely liked it), it also definitely did not work out. But it was the start of being a real person for me, a social person, and not someone who just spent his entire life alone in a room.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
My childhood bedroom was a place where I went to be alone. I had friends, but as a young child, I remember preferring to be alone, or at least that's what I told myself. I can remember a lot of time, whole summers in fact, of being depressed and just spending time in my room. When I write about my childhood, I sometimes give the idea that is was a miserable one, and in a way it was. I had all of the modern conveniences, though, and my parents were relatively good parents, even great parents. I don't mean to say the were bad in any way; I just think that maybe they were not ready.
My room was a place that I could be me. It was a place I could sing and dance and read, and no one would judge me. I eventually realized that these things could be true outside of my room, too, but for a long time, my only true friends that I opened up to, for real, were my journals, poems, and books.
I remember meeting one young lady who called me out on my reclusive tendencies. She asked me why I was at home on a Friday night and not out doing something. I know someone had probably said this to me before, but I remember this time specifically, because I can remember defending my position. "But I like being by myself. I like reading and organizing my comic book collection." This is definitely one of those "if I could go back in time and knock myself upside the head I would" moments . "If a girl wants to hang out with you, young Jeremy, drop the comic book and go out."
I've gone through times in my life that I wanted to drop everything nerdy about me and start over, because I regretted how much of my life I had wasted on it. In a way, my life started late, and it wasn't until someone pointed it out to me like she did that I realized I wasn't really living. I'm not saying that nerdy stuff doesn't have its place, and I've embraced that side of me, but I have realized that these things shouldn't consume your life.
There is a psychological process that "late bloomers" go through, and it definitely happened to me. I knew I had to move forward, but I was resentful that I had wasted so much time. Life is a continual process and I still have things I'm working on to this day. But I did get out, I did start talking to people, I did start making friends, and I did make things better. There are still times when I feel like the most socially awkward person in the entire universe. But I realize now that it's okay to feel awkward as long as I'm trying.
The end of the story with the girl is that I did hang out with her a little bit. It wasn't easy for me, though, and I resisted the process still tooth and claw. I felt so safe being the way I was that I didn't want to let it go. Even though I had my moments with her (I kissed a girl and I definitely liked it), it also definitely did not work out. But it was the start of being a real person for me, a social person, and not someone who just spent his entire life alone in a room.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Lyrical Triggers (Blog)
Talk about a memory triggered by a particular song.
I have too many of these to list it feels like. Alicia Keys "No One" comes to mind. I remember hearing that song when I was going through a hard time with a woman I liked several years back. I had done something really stupid that I've written poetry about because it affected me. I was just really stupid. I had been sad about it, but there wasn't much more I could do. Around this time, I was at work and that song comes on and I started to get sad. Like really sad. But then I started talking to myself and I said there wasn't anything else I could do. There wasn't much more to say or much more to do. I made a deal with myself that I would be completely sad as long as the song was on and then I would move on. I would feel being sad as long as the length of the song. And I was sad. And then I stopped when it was over.
I'm not sure it worked, but that was the start of feeling better. It still took me a long time to feel good again, like as happy as I had been before. In some ways, I am just now getting happy again, and that feels stupid, but it's true. I just messed up really bad and it hurt.
I should also mention my friend Terri for this. She is a very dear friend of mine and I've seen her life go through a lot of changes and she is happily married with a kid now. There are many songs I think of her when I hear them, but I will pick Jordan Sparks "Battlefield." I'm not sure why this song resonated with us (besides the fact that it's just a good song), but I remember discovering that we both liked it. Now every time I hear it I think of her. She lives in another state now, but every time I hear this song, I feel like I saw five minutes ago.
I've listened to these songs as I am writing this, and now I'm crying a little bit, for different reasons for each song. Actually, I didn't start crying for Alicia Keys, but "Battlefield" got me. I think that no matter how stupid you are or how much you feel alone in the world, you can always go back to the fact that you have good friends. Friends for me are my living proof. I don't mind saying that I'm a good friend and I think that will be my eternal legacy. I can't say I always am, but I always try to be and I think I succeed more often than I don't.
A small list of songs that trigger memories for me:
"Bohemia Rhapsody" by Queen; my mom
"Little Sister" by Elvis; karaoke friends and my dad
"She Talks to Angels" Black Crowes; junior high
"You Give Love A Bad Name" Bon Jovi; karaoke and junior high again
"My Prerogative" Bobby Brown; karaoke and junior high also
"Jeremy" Pearl Jam; karaoke and high school
"If You Wanna Be My Lover" Spice Girls; an ex
"Oh, Sherrie" Steve Perry; one of the few guys friends I've had for a while haha
"More: Remix" Usher; a lifetime love of NBA basketball
"Sweet Transvestite" Rocky Horror Picture Show; nearly all of the above
"Sweet Caroline" Neil Diamond; Terri again and too many friends to name
A few more:
"Hot in Herre" Nelly
"Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd
"Stronger" Kayne West
"Poker Face" Lady Gaga
"L.O.V.E." Ashlee Simpson
Did I say small list? I digress.
This post is for The Scintilla Project.
I have too many of these to list it feels like. Alicia Keys "No One" comes to mind. I remember hearing that song when I was going through a hard time with a woman I liked several years back. I had done something really stupid that I've written poetry about because it affected me. I was just really stupid. I had been sad about it, but there wasn't much more I could do. Around this time, I was at work and that song comes on and I started to get sad. Like really sad. But then I started talking to myself and I said there wasn't anything else I could do. There wasn't much more to say or much more to do. I made a deal with myself that I would be completely sad as long as the song was on and then I would move on. I would feel being sad as long as the length of the song. And I was sad. And then I stopped when it was over.
I'm not sure it worked, but that was the start of feeling better. It still took me a long time to feel good again, like as happy as I had been before. In some ways, I am just now getting happy again, and that feels stupid, but it's true. I just messed up really bad and it hurt.
I should also mention my friend Terri for this. She is a very dear friend of mine and I've seen her life go through a lot of changes and she is happily married with a kid now. There are many songs I think of her when I hear them, but I will pick Jordan Sparks "Battlefield." I'm not sure why this song resonated with us (besides the fact that it's just a good song), but I remember discovering that we both liked it. Now every time I hear it I think of her. She lives in another state now, but every time I hear this song, I feel like I saw five minutes ago.
I've listened to these songs as I am writing this, and now I'm crying a little bit, for different reasons for each song. Actually, I didn't start crying for Alicia Keys, but "Battlefield" got me. I think that no matter how stupid you are or how much you feel alone in the world, you can always go back to the fact that you have good friends. Friends for me are my living proof. I don't mind saying that I'm a good friend and I think that will be my eternal legacy. I can't say I always am, but I always try to be and I think I succeed more often than I don't.
A small list of songs that trigger memories for me:
"Bohemia Rhapsody" by Queen; my mom
"Little Sister" by Elvis; karaoke friends and my dad
"She Talks to Angels" Black Crowes; junior high
"You Give Love A Bad Name" Bon Jovi; karaoke and junior high again
"My Prerogative" Bobby Brown; karaoke and junior high also
"Jeremy" Pearl Jam; karaoke and high school
"If You Wanna Be My Lover" Spice Girls; an ex
"Oh, Sherrie" Steve Perry; one of the few guys friends I've had for a while haha
"More: Remix" Usher; a lifetime love of NBA basketball
"Sweet Transvestite" Rocky Horror Picture Show; nearly all of the above
"Sweet Caroline" Neil Diamond; Terri again and too many friends to name
A few more:
"Hot in Herre" Nelly
"Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd
"Stronger" Kayne West
"Poker Face" Lady Gaga
"L.O.V.E." Ashlee Simpson
Did I say small list? I digress.
This post is for The Scintilla Project.
Friday, March 16, 2012
(Fiction) The Third Planet of the Gothic Constellation of Thanatos Part 3
This is part 3 of some fiction I'm writing. I had a title, but I'm not sure I want to use it anymore. This story is formatted a little differently since I've copied it from my word processor and not typed it in directly.
I
look around for knobs or levers to start the shower, but the only handle I see
is the door handle. I turn it to close the door and hear a click. Water and
soap suddenly spray me from above and below; the soap is washed off almost as
quickly as it’s sprayed on. After this quick process, the water and soap stops
and I’m about to get out and look for a towel when I hear a snapping sound like
a puff of smoke. I can’t see for the powder, but once it settles, I’m almost
completely dry.
I
go to get my robe back, but it’s not there. I look outside and there are some
clothes laid out for me, including a dress with long sleeves. I look around to
make sure the room is empty and get dressed quickly. As I sit down at the table
again, I see a book open. I’m looking through it, when the old man comes in
again. I like to read, but I can barely concentrate with all the stress I’m
going through at the moment, so I look up from the book.
“That
is one of your favorite books, if you remember.” He’s trying to hide his
disappointment, but I can tell he’s sad that it looks like I barely recognize the
book. “I think if you spend some time at it, you will find that you will enjoy
the adventures of that particular heroine.” I look through the book again and
notice some illustrations. In one of the drawings, an athletic woman with a
toned body is holding off a monster of some sort with a blade of steel. “Her
name is Vanessa. . . just like yours.” I’m so tired and confused that I accept
this information as trivial.
“Okay,”
I mutter.
“Hah
ha! She speaks!” He still seems afraid, if slightly relieved. I am afraid now
too when I hear my own voice. The voice is a soft whisper of a girl’s voice, a
young woman’s voice, a young woman barely past puberty. I look at the book
again, but I can still barely concentrate. I close it almost angrily, because I
don’t know how to handle all of these developments.
My
father notices my demeanor. “There will be time enough to catch up on the
adventures of Miss Vanessa when you have recovered more.” He looks like he’s
concentrating for a second, and then he puts his hand on his chin and frowns.
“Well, let’s retreat to our modest exam room, such as it is, and recheck some
of your vitals once more. I don’t want to overexert your fist day back.”
We
go back to the room I woke up in, and he checks my temperature with a
thermometer and takes my pulse. “You seem to be recovering very well, dear. How
do you feel?”
“I’m
fine,” I manage to say. “A little disoriented maybe,” I admit. My new voice
would take some getting used to.
“Yes,
well that is another reason I brought you back here. He walks over to a cabinet
by the bed and pulls a switch. The cabinet flips over and a small desk and
monitor appear. “I know your memory is somewhat jumbled at this point, so I
thought a few lesson might ease you back into the scheme of things.” He opens a
compartment above the desk and takes out a helmet with goggles on it. “You can
go slowly at first until you start remembering things. You can return to
earlier lessons if you feel a lesson is too advanced for you. Or if you feel a
lesson is something you have mastered already, you can skip it.” I couldn’t see
myself skipping too many lessons.
“Don’t
be afraid,” he tells me. “It’s really very user friendly. A girl as sharp as
you will recover in no time.” He pulls up a chair and then helps me put on the
helmet and goggles. When the goggles are on, I see a screen of information. As
I move my eyes, the screen scrolls and I can focus on a piece of data to see it
closer or to get more details. It’s just a computer without a mouse, really.
The
lesson it starts with is a little odd. The questions are strange to me and I
have no idea how to answer them. I don’t remember any of the history lessons,
and the astrology seems foreign to me. The only thing I can make any sense of
is the math. I start going back to earlier lessons, but it takes me a while to
make any sense of anything. At least I’m feeling a little better about reading.
I’m reading what seems like a children’s story about a little boy and his lost
dog, when the screen goes blank.
“Well,
it looks like you’re moving along quite nicely. Yes, I’m quite satisfied by
your progress.” I can tell he’s lying. I know he’s disappointed, but there’s no
point in trying to move faster than I can through the lessons. I was still
learning how to use the machine, really. “Well, it’s time for bed now. Let me
show you to your room.”
The
room is down a hallway from the kitchen. I barely have time to notice anything
about the room because I’m so tired. I fall asleep as soon as I lie down on the
bed.
Growing into Mellowness (blog)
When did you realize you were a grown up?
I think I realized this when I lived on my own for the first time. I joke with my father about this, but I remember running out of shampoo, as an example, and realizing that I would be the one to go buy it. This seems like a small thing, but taking care of myself made me realize that I was grown up now.
Also, I would say learning to mellow out about things in general was something I needed to do to grow up. Sometimes, I will lapse back to this, but I used to take things so seriously and everything seemed like it was the end of the world. I'm not saying I don't get upset now, but it's much easier to recover from crises now. It's just not worth it to get too worked up over things.
This may seem slightly off topic, but I'll mention it, because it has some relevance. I have read the first Twilight book (stay with me), and something about it bothered me, specifically the character of Bella. She didn't have the strength of character that I liked in my fictional heroes. The book was enjoyable enough, but I was still bothered by it. She lost all sense of herself and drifted through life after Edward left her and it bothered me. Recently it struck me why that was: she reminded me of myself at that age.
It's not my intention to write a defense of Twilight, but this was a little bit of an eye opener for me to realize that something in it resonated for me. I had times when I felt so depressed that I was suicidal. I was the teenager that thought my world was crashing down. Clearly, things would never get better. Looking back now, of course it doesn't seem that serious of a problem, but at the time it was. My feelings were for a variety of reasons, but a girl that I liked was involved. I still think that maybe it's not a good idea for teens to read about a couple who pledge to kill themselves if the other dies, but maybe I was being hard on young Bella. Maybe, just maybe, Bella's experience has verisimilitude because of its resemblance to the experience of a real teenager, specifically my own.
My life did get better, of course, and I've had such great experiences since then. If I had followed through on my thoughts, I would never have met all the wonderful people I have or had all of the experiences I've had. Maybe growing up means managing your problems, but that process is in continual refinement, so maybe we are continually growing up.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
I think I realized this when I lived on my own for the first time. I joke with my father about this, but I remember running out of shampoo, as an example, and realizing that I would be the one to go buy it. This seems like a small thing, but taking care of myself made me realize that I was grown up now.
Also, I would say learning to mellow out about things in general was something I needed to do to grow up. Sometimes, I will lapse back to this, but I used to take things so seriously and everything seemed like it was the end of the world. I'm not saying I don't get upset now, but it's much easier to recover from crises now. It's just not worth it to get too worked up over things.
This may seem slightly off topic, but I'll mention it, because it has some relevance. I have read the first Twilight book (stay with me), and something about it bothered me, specifically the character of Bella. She didn't have the strength of character that I liked in my fictional heroes. The book was enjoyable enough, but I was still bothered by it. She lost all sense of herself and drifted through life after Edward left her and it bothered me. Recently it struck me why that was: she reminded me of myself at that age.
It's not my intention to write a defense of Twilight, but this was a little bit of an eye opener for me to realize that something in it resonated for me. I had times when I felt so depressed that I was suicidal. I was the teenager that thought my world was crashing down. Clearly, things would never get better. Looking back now, of course it doesn't seem that serious of a problem, but at the time it was. My feelings were for a variety of reasons, but a girl that I liked was involved. I still think that maybe it's not a good idea for teens to read about a couple who pledge to kill themselves if the other dies, but maybe I was being hard on young Bella. Maybe, just maybe, Bella's experience has verisimilitude because of its resemblance to the experience of a real teenager, specifically my own.
My life did get better, of course, and I've had such great experiences since then. If I had followed through on my thoughts, I would never have met all the wonderful people I have or had all of the experiences I've had. Maybe growing up means managing your problems, but that process is in continual refinement, so maybe we are continually growing up.
This post is part of The Scintilla Project.
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