Where Are You Going?

Soon, in the very near future, I will be getting my third tattoo. I've gone back and forth and back again in trying to decide what it is that I want. I was fairly certain that I wanted "Go make your next choice be your best choice," and perhaps I'll get it somewhere down the line. I still think it's an important and potent quotation that I always need to remember - but I've found something better.

I don't know if I read it or came up with it or (most likely) stole it from someone else, but I'm going to get:

"You are where you are meant to be."

It will be written in another language, most like Persian or Arabic, and it will run the length of the bottom of my right forearm.

In keeping with the idea of what I originally wanted, it is a reminder to stay mindful. To be happy. To be content. And most of all, to be grateful. Every decision that I have made in my life thus far has brought me to this very point in time. Friends I've lost, friends I've made, love I've forgotten, love I've created, losses, births, rebirths, changes, spiritual decisions, all of it - everything has been a step towards my position on this finite timeline of life. And every step that I take from here on out will bring me to my next destination.

I must be grateful that I've had the opportunity to take these steps. That I can continue to take steps. That I can plan for steps in the future - even if I never take them. There are times that I am reminded of what a beautiful, humbling, undeserving gift Life is. It is truly astonishing that we are given the chance to experience it - even the bad. It reminds us that we are alive and helps us to appreciate the wonderful. I've come to understand that, and so I must be as grateful for the negative experiences as I am for the positive.

Who else will live my life if not me?

The tattoo will serve as another reminder: make sure you're headed in the right direction!

- May (you be unafraid to change your mind).

Melodious Percussion.

Something about the rainy weather does something odd to me, I've found. I don't know if it always existed or if it's been a more recent construct of this ridiculous life. Perhaps it always lingered, but I've only just noticed? I don't know what it does, but it turns me inside, into some kind of hypothetical, mental hermit. Thoughts I've not pondered in quite some time, or ever, suddenly take center stage in my cerebral jungle. I need a machete to often cut through the brush or to make a path to whatever lies at the other end.

On the surface, I'm very much the same as I always am. Years of hiding deeper thoughts, deeper fears, deeper everything has taught me well. I've been trained (by no one other than myself) to consistently contain two, distinct personalities: the introvert and the extrovert, the melancholy and the joyful, the emotional and apathetic, the little girl and the woman.

The introverted, melancholy, emotional little girl is withdrawn - she always meanders about my insides, but is happy in simply existing. She need not bring attention to herself often, only when she feels she needs attention to satiate her until the next outburst.

The extroverted, joyful albeit sometimes apathetic woman is the one people see the most often. She smiles as though nothing could possibly contain her. Her laughs know no decibel boundary; they escape from her mouth as though their very lives depended upon it. Her cheeks flush with wonder at the beautiful things that are always surrounding her. This can sometimes cause her to become apathetic to it all; but she puts on a good show. She always puts on a good show.

Today was a day for the little girl to come out and play for a little while. Not that I wanted her to, mind you, but like I said: there's something about the rain that does something weird. The first pitter-patters of rainfall call to the little girl like a siren to a sailor. She can't help but peek her head from above the hedges to see what else is there, what she can touch and turn to dust.

Impulsively, I decided to watch some of my arrival and christening video. It's odd. Obviously, I don't remember any of it as I was only seven months old when it was all taking place. Parts of me wishes I could remember what it was like from a first-person perspective. It almost makes me feel separated, detached from that part of my life - like someone else was living it and told me about it, but I was never given the actual experience of living through it. It's odd, indeed.

It was also odd to see relatives that are no longer around. Not in a bad way, of course. But I sometimes struggle to reconcile the past and the present. These people once existed. They once breathed the air I breathed. They once laughed the way I laugh, cried the way I cry, yelled the way I yell (perhaps in a different language), and loved the way I love. I'm thankful for the fact that my dad was pretty consistent in filming for these few days so that we've got some kind of digital proof of their existence, but it's weird to think that they're no longer around. Especially when seeing Mia, who my heart will always miss, and my Aunt Mary, who only recently passed away.

I wish I remembered my Aunt Mary more. I wish I visited with her more. I wish I spoke with her about her life. I wish I heard her stories and asked her questions. I wish I didn't become annoyed when Mia asked me to help her to bed late one night. I wish I had sat at the foot of her bed more often, telling her of the day's events. I wish I saved her Christmas cards and birthday cards - or at least remembered what I did with them. I wish I had been older while she was around so that I could have really appreciated her filthy, dirty, obscene humor properly. I wish I told her that I loved her more often. I wish I told my Aunt Mary that I loved her more often. I wish that I had told my Aunt Francis that I loved her the last time I saw her before she died.

I wish for a lot of things.

But I suppose sitting and wishing for things that can't be changed or altered is merely a waste of my time. It only makes the little girl more upset, ultimately. She cries harder when I think of things like these. She stomps her feet and throws her tantrums and refuses to budge. It really doesn't benefit anyone in the end.

I really need to stop wishing.

I need to start doing.

There's nothing stopping me from making sure I am as kind as I can possibly be. I can still be as compassionate as I can be, especially to those I dislike. I can tell people that I love them when I see them, and make sure they know it - and believe it. I can ask more questions about people's lives. I can sit with my parents and talk to them about what it was like growing up. I can listen to the stories that are always floating around me, the ones I will want to remember for the rest of my life.

I can, and more importantly must!, cherish every moment that I possibly have on this revolving earth in this fleeting, fleeting life.

I've learned from my past mistakes.

I really need to stop wishing.

I need to start doing.

- May (you live with purpose).

Double? Madness! (Cue 300 jokes)

It has been an introspective day for me. And I think it has been a long time coming.

My brain is constantly searching and thinking. It is rare that it is simply resting. In fact, I can't remember a time where it's been at rest, even while the other parts of my body fall into their natural comatose states every evening. I'm almost tempted, sometimes, to enter myself into a sleep study so that a very serious-looking scientist (wearing glasses and a lab coat, I imagine) can hook up electrical wires to my skull and monitor my brain waves. I want to know what goes on when I'm unconscious to this world and exploring the nightly, alternate universe. Even when I'm sleeping, I want to continue learning.

I don't quite know what I'm feeling. My initial reaction is to say that I'm numb, but then after some serious consideration, I don't think that's it. "Numb" implies some kind of sadness. An overwhelmed feeling. It's not a foreign feeling to me, not by any means. I used to use the analogy of standing underneath the shower head for long periods of time. You start off feeling every drop of water, then it spreads out until you feel one, cohesive stream and those droplets are no longer individual, and then there's nothing. Eventually, your skin goes numb to the feeling, and it's only when you hear the sound of the water swirling down the drain that you remember it's pouring over you.

But that's not what this feeling is.

I suppose I could call it apathy, but that, too, holds a negative connotation, and I really don't think this is a negative feeling. Part of me thinks that, perhaps, after an emotionally charged day, maybe this "flat-lining" is a kind of mental defense mechanism so that I don't short circuit.

Well, thank you, seemingly pragmatic part of me -- but I think you're wrong.

Underneath this -- we'll call it "acceptance" -- there is a general sense of hope. Of wonder. Of happiness. Which is why I know it's not feeling "numb" or "apathetic." I want more hours in the day so that I can spend them stretching my body and expanding my bones. I want more hours in the day so that I can spend them meditating and channeling the Universe. I want more hours in the day so that I have more reasons for which to be thankful for life.

That hardly sounds like numbness or apathy, right?

Somewhat unrelated, yet still tied in, I've decided what I want my third tattoo to be, to serve as a reminder of the lessons I've learned over the past few days. The lessons I've always known, deep down, but only realized and understood at this moment in time. It's a simple statement. It isn't especially poetic and, upon first listen or glance, it seems as obvious as a red light (or, in my case, a yellow one, reminding me to take life in the slow lane). But give it a moment to sink in. Let it infiltrate your mind. After you understand the clout of it, you'll understand why it's important.

Go make your next choice be your best choice.

Yes, it's taken from a song. And most would find that foolish. But I've been toying with the idea of getting this quote etched into my skin for a few months now. I've debated and wondered and scratched my head raw over it. But I know, now, that it's what I want. It's what I need.

I promise myself and the Universe that, from now on, every choice I make will be my best. Every time I'm presented with a choice, I have the opportunity to make my life a little more wonderful. To make this world a little happier. To spread light into someone else's life. To encourage someone else to search for their true happiness. Why on earth wouldn't I want to do that?

- May (you choose the right path).

Bi-Polar.

No, really. Sometimes I think I am.

I can point to a multitude of things for the reason: hormones, amount of sleep (or, usually, lack thereof), my typically fickle, scattered, Gemini nature. It's no surprise that I'll often point to the latter of the three. While I don't think that life and decisions can be made or altered based on how the constellations are arranged, I do think they help explain things we can't otherwise understand.

There's an astrology book that my grandma has in her house. It used to belong to her closest, dearest friend, Alice (after whom I get half of my full name), who was very much into astrology and things. It goes through each Zodiac sign, then breaks it down further into, for example, Gemini Man, Gemini Woman, Gemini Child, Gemini Employee, Gemini Boss. There may be another category or two tossed in there, but you get the idea.

I was attracted to the book, initially, because of the plastic, textured cover my Aunt Alice had put over it. I remember skimming the bookshelves and my eye immediately falling upon the red and black swirls. It was almost a paisley pattern. And then I became more interested in what the book was saying. I remember reading the Gemini child and feeling like, for once, someone actually understood me. Right down to the very suggestion of having a wrist-leash (yes, I was that kid in the mall). Things suddenly made sense. No wonder I was still exhausted after sleeping -- my brain never shuts off because I'm always thinking, always inquisitive, always pondering and reflecting. I find it's still true to this day. I could sleep for days but still feel mentally drained. Things related to the vocal chords and communication come naturally to me -- well, that certainly makes sense as Mercury is my ruling planet, otherwise known as Hermes, messenger to the gods. We're writers, speakers, talkers, chat-your-ear-off-ers. All of the above, and then some.

We're destined to live a life of searching. Geminis are air signs, as all zodiac signs are linked to some kind of natural element. Scorpio and Pisces, for example, are water signs. Capricorns are earth signs. And so on. Anyway, just as air is constantly moving, constantly finding new directions and new ways in which to get from place to place, so do Geminis. And I often feel that way, that I'm fated to live a life of curiosity. A life of wonderment.

Sometimes, it's frustrating. Sometimes, I want to have my life planned out. I want to know that I'll be doing Job A for the rest of my life. Things would be, I think, simpler in a lot of ways if that were the case. At the same time, I know how I get when I find myself stuck in a routine. This is also something that the book mentions. Routines drive me crazy. And when I say crazy, I mean sheer lunacy. The idea of doing the same thing every single day, with no variation, depresses me just with the thought. And, if that routine is combined with a stifling oppression of creativity, you might as well chuck me in a pine box and bury me. I won't be able to last longer than a breath in that kind of environment.

But I didn't write this to get hung up on Zodiacs. I wrote this to talk about my changing moods. There is a tie-in, that Geminis are Twins. In other words, we can go from happy to sad seemingly without reason. And while I'd love to constantly point the finger at the sparkling configurations overhead, I know that the responsibility does not lie with them. I think it's simply who I am.

I need to learn to better control my moods. Figure out when they happen, what triggers them, how to make them change (if it's a bad sort of mood, that is). I need to find my way back to how I was last summer. I need to cry every day not because I'm sad, but because I'm overcome with joy. I need to find that balance and peace with the universe and the unknown.

I had the Om put at the base of my neck in the hopes of opening and calling upon my Vishuddha chakra (turns positives into negatives, sees every experience as something to be learned, opens up creativity, etc.) .. It seemed to have worked for a little while. And then I think I started ignoring it, started falling back into my old ways.

Well, I'm done with it. I'm done with all of the garbage that I had gotten rid of last year. This is a fresh start. I've another day, another gift with which I can do whatever I please. I have the freedom of deciding who I want to be and where I want to be it. I can do something spectacular, something beautiful, something kind and compassionate, every single day of my life. And I want to. I want to do all of those things.

It's about time I started.

- May (you stop looking for excuses).

Downers.

I've tried to keep this blog uplifting, not only for others, but for myself. To serve as a reminder of all of the wonderful things which I have been lucky enough to have been a witness to over the past year. I think a part of me knew that, at some point, I would lose that optimistic outlook on life and would need a reminder as to why I should work to keep it.

And though it pains me to do so, I have to post something that's less than happy. Less than bright. Less than hopeful.

This feeling terrifies me. It strips me of all of the defenses I have come to know. My clay army is but a pile of broken pottery, useless and meaningless. This feeling is one that I haven't felt in a few years, and the fact that I feel it creeping back into my life scares me. Petrifies me. I don't want it. I wanted to be rid of it forever. But the more I step away, the more it follows. It is as though I am leaving a perpetual trail of inedible bread crumbs that root to the ground behind me, forever to be a guide for an ambush.

This is guerrilla warfare, and the enemy is myself.

The worst part is that I can remember it all. I can remember the feeling of gazing at speeding cars longingly, wishing for nothing more than a strong gust of wind to push me towards them. I can remember my hand shaking on the banister as I walked down the stairs in my dorm, just in case I should "lose my footing" and find myself at the bottom much quicker than I had anticipated. I remember contemplating the dosage of Advil that would leave me numb, perhaps more, and wondering who would find me once I had gone.

And then I remember the feelings of hope I felt. I remember the simple beauty and pleasure of letting the sun warm my skin and flush my cheeks. I remember caring for myself and for my body, and wanting only to fill it with nutrition and health. I remember being too excited to fall asleep because there was so much to see in this beautiful world. I remember the tears that flowed from the overwhelming happiness I felt bubbling in my chest.

I remember it all.

And now I struggle with who I am, where I've been, where to go. Am I the girl who wishes for sleep because it hurts less than being awake? Or am I the girl who can hardly stay still because she itches to explore and live her life?

I don't know.

I don't know who I am. Who I'm supposed to be. Am I supposed to be anyone, for that matter? Or are these limitations ones I place on myself because I know not what else to do?

They make compasses for lost travellers, stranded in the woods. They always point north.

Please, someone. Anyone.

Let me get there.

- May (you search for your answers).

Tune-age.

Do I even need to explain this one?

--------------------

Someday I'm gonna go out to the country.
I'll drive 'til the highway ends,
Chasing after picture perfect sunsets
To take away my breath.
I'm tired of living in the city.
The world's got me tied on a string.
Wanderlust has overcome me.
Like Lewis and Clark, I'll dream.
There's a million different ways to go,
Only God can know where I will call my home.

Love lead me on
Where no one else has gone.
Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me on.

The open road can be so lonely.
I'm longing for someone to love.
If only I could share my new surroundings,
Open the doors above.
There's a million different ways to go,
Only God can know where I will call my home.

Love lead me on
Where no one else has gone.
Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me on.

Faith keep me strong,
Love lead me home.

--------------------

I realize, in retrospect, that there's a heavy religious theme in this song. I also realize, after listening to more of The Afters (and looking at the Genre column in my iTunes that I casually ignored before), that they're a Christian band.

If anyone reading this (yes, I'm talking about you, lone reader ..) knows me, though, he or she will know that religion isn't really my thing.

Regardless of their religious affiliation, I dig their sound. They remind me a bit of Snow Patrol with the softer side of Something Corporate with a dash of The Hereafter and .. maybe the melancholy aspect of Coldplay. The lead singer's voice reminds me of someone else, but I can't pinpoint who. Anyway, they're good. Check out their most popular song, "Beautiful Love." It's one of my favorites. The acoustic version is wonderful!

As for the song above, I simply meant it for the latter part of that first verse, about wanderlust.

That may be my new-old favorite word. Wanderlust.

Wanderlust. Wanderlust. Wanderlust.

It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

- May (you search for deeper meaning).

Etsy, Etsy, Etsy!

I finally put stuff up on my Etsy shop! There'll be more coming soon! :) Check it out and buy something, if you're compelled!


Obvious Answers on Etsy, by May

Reconciling Want and Need

So, it seems I'm constantly inspired by J. Mraz's blogs. Which is fine -- he's become a sort of muse for me, constantly opening my mind and making me see things from a different angle. Which is precisely what I need. I think I need a miniature Mraz in my pocket at all times, giving me sage advice and helping me to remember the karma. Think they manufacture those?

Anyway, after his recent post, I got to thinking about "want" versus "need."

At my job, we get paid on the 3rd and the 18th of every month. If any of those days fall on a weekend, you get paid the Friday before. Earlier in the month, as the 3rd came closer, I could feel the excitement. I'd only gotten one paycheck this summer and I was already planning all of the items for purchase that this second paycheck would be going to.

Thursday came. Since the 3rd was technically a holiday (the school was closed for the day), the checks came the day before. I anxiously awaited the envelope as my boss slipped them into everyone's respective mail cubbies. She usually skips mine to hand it to me in person, since I'm sitting right there. As she neared my desk, I remember literally holding my breath with excitement. She had a confused look on her face.

"They didn't send your check over. I'm going to give them a call to see why." I thought to myself, 'Minor setback, but maybe they just forgot because I'm technically temporary staff and they sent over everyone's who's a regular employee. No problem.' About half an hour later, she called me from her office and said that it turned out she'd not handed in my time sheets before the deadline. A complete accident, and one that was not her fault (she'd taken Friday and the following Monday off to spend time with her son who lives in a residential facility upstate). She hadn't realized that they were SO strict with the cut-off date and apologized again.

I told her it was no big deal, and really, it wasn't.

For a little while.

On the eve of the third pay day of the summer, with a measly $5 in my bank account, I can't help but think. I've had to seriously cut down on my frivolous spending since then since funds were all-around limited. I avoided places like the mall, since I knew my will power is kind of pathetic when it comes to certain things (read: clothes, sunglasses, accessories).

But, what I realized was that I didn't need to go to Starbucks all the time; I could just as easily brew a cup of tea or coffee at home, for less. I didn't need new clothes while I still had old ones to wear. I didn't need a fourth pair of sunglasses. All of these things that I kept thinking I needed, I really didn't. Maybe I wanted them, but I certainly didn't need them.

I had and have all of the things I need. Everything else is just superfluous.

That's not to say that I haven't already planned to what to buy with tomorrow's pay check, but all of those things have purpose -- and they're all things I've made sure I really want. I don't know if I need them quite yet, but I know that they're things that I've taken time to think about, ponder over, really decide upon:

List
- My tattoo, which will most likely happen on Saturday.
- Haircut and highlights, which I've never gotten before.
- O.N.E. Coconut Water.
- Vitamineral Green.
- More items for my mom's "meditation" room to help with the Feng Shui.
- Printing out more photos from Europe.
- Buying Mason Jars for said photos (it's a fun craft. Google it!)

The tattoo and haircut are in celebration of this new life I'm living. I feel renewed, I feel like I've woken up from a long sleep that's taken 22 years to come out of. I've undergone a positive, karmic transformation -- so now, it's time to restore and reawaken the external parts of me so that they match the internal parts.

So, I pose these questions to you -- what is it that you want? What is it that you need? Are they the same? Are they different? Will those things improve your life in the long-run? Are they temporary fixes to feelings of sadness, insecurity, or insignificance? Where would that energy be better spent in your life? Will they improve the lives of those around you? At whose expense have those things been made or created?

Can you tell the difference?

- May (you have the courage to re-examine everything).

Nighttime Thoughts

Also posted in Pen & Paper Addicts

Fondness rode the swings over Tivoli and I was elated
Sincerity slipped another sunrise into watery eyes
Train stations spit citizens back onto the streets
And I am still not asleep
- J. Mraz, blog entry on 06/24.

i will always be this way.
i will always feel my skin tingle
and my lips curl
and my tongue dance
and my eyes glisten
as soon as the sun hides its in-need-of-Rogaine head
and i am surrounded by the cloak of the absence of light.

my body may protest and, indeed,
it often does.
fibrous muscles ache
and remind me of the casualties of the day:
a wrong twist in the swirling, rolling chair-turned-amusement-ride;
a purpled section of flesh after violent contact
with a desk or table that seemingly appeared out of nowhere;
7 hours of being resigned to the same
position, upright with knees at right angles.

by the time this hemisphere of the world
has long shut its eyes
and kissed its beloved children good night
and turned its shadowed back upon the growing light
that's slowly trickling over its shoulder,
i have just awoken from my daytime slumber.
my adventures have only just begun.
thoughts leap from my cluttered cranium,
wishing to explore the world they've heard so much about.

but i resign myself to becoming a follower
of trends,
though my individuality is none too happy with my
nightly battle and resulting decision.

slowly, i slide underneath my cotton and polyester cape
that's a few sizes too big for my small frame,
skin tingling,
lips curling,
tongue dancing,
eyes glistening,
lullabied by the melodies of the slumbering world.

- May (you wake up with life anew).