I’m so stubborn and pig-headed. Once I focus on a goal, there is no way to reason with me, I can’t even seem to get through to me.
People affect me too much, because I let them, because it makes me happy, but perhaps believing that something is insane should not immediately inspire an impulsive action, but rather slow the decision-making process. I seek out sayings and people and memories that can help me justify to myself the things that I want to do, and I talk myself into believing I’m proud of my impulsive actions. But jumping out of a plane without checking for a parachute doesn’t exactly make one poetic, wise or even intriguing. It makes them naive, it makes them stupid, and it sets them up to turn to emotional wreckage.
Everyday has a million different possibilities. No one can predict the exact outcome of any week, month or moment. I want to believe I have a certain amount of patience and willpower, but there comes a point when I can no longer delude myself.
I don’t know where I’ll be when all of this is settled, I can only hope what I hope for now and hope I won’t change my mind out of impatience yet again. My choices change day-to-day – more than that, hour to hour. Because of people. Because I want to jump out of the plane, but I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.
I’m not worried about regretting the things that I’m going to do. After all, at least I can say I tried, I asked, I sought out, I leapt. It isn’t courage, it’s the denial of fear. Just don’t think about the height of the leap, the strangers below, the danger involved, don’t even shut your eyes and give yourself a shot to imagine how things might go wrong. Just look down, jump and hope it all pans out. Nevermind that you’re afraid of heights, your life is down there waiting, people are down there waiting for you, they just don’t know it yet. Surely they’ll get attached if you give them a few months.
I suppose I should explain myself, why I disappeared from my beloved little blog for over a week without a word. Spring break is partially to blame. Heather Madame and I had one little adventure after another. Including wandering through a forest and happening across the most breathtaking, awe-inspiring, peaceful meadow that seemed to come right from the pages of a fairy tale. I ended up really chasing a butterfly for the first time in my life…goodness, I didn’t know I could act like that much of a dork (this butterfly was like a tiny bright yellow ninja with wings,) I don’t know what got into me, really. After we had skipped rocks (well, Heather skipped rocks, I sort of just violently hurled them at the water,) climbed a giant hill covered in various green plants, and ran away from (okay, fine, I ran away from) an odd-looking frog in the grass (I bet it was deadly…) We decided it was probably best to find the car before it got too dark. But, as we began walking towards the trail, I saw a flicker of bright yellow in my periphery. I looked over, paused, stared at the butterfly for a moment, and then the chase began. This isn’t normal behavior for me, so when Heather suddenly heard an odd amount of rustling behind her and turned to see me hopping around running after a butterfly, she burst out laughing and had to rest on her knees for a moment from the sight.
“Hannah! You’re not going to catch it!” She called over.
“I know!” I half-yelled, half-laughed. And then I caught it. “Ha!” I held up my hands in victory. I walked over to Heather, we stared at it for a moment, and I let it go.
“You know,” I said, “I suppose I never really considered what you’re supposed to do when the impossible moment arrives when you actually catch a butterfly.”
For the past four days we’ve been impulsive little kids, I even whipped out my previously dormant pun-making superpower over spring break. It annoys Heather a lot (every time I think about it I start laughing, including now,) but I was in an immature enough state of mind that I didn’t let that stop me. This week was the first time in years that we were that carefree, for the first time since Ryleigh left our lives, we entirely let loose and were irresponsible and immature and impulsive. It was, in a word, therapy.
“Hey Heather?” I said, hopping from a muddy hill onto a stack of large rocks by the river.
“Yeah?” She picked up a nearby stone and turned it over in her hand.
“Let’s not talk about our families or guys today.”
“Good.” I paused and stared at the water for a moment, “No men.”
“Unless it’s someone we can only say good things about.”
I chuckled and glanced over at her, “You mean someone we know just well enough to only know positive things about.”
We paused for a moment, just thinking. Heather looked to the trail, took a step forward, and we continued the day of adventure with our agreement laid out plain and clear. And we stuck to it.
Things that also happened over spring break: we went to a couple of bridal shops and Heather tried on a few wedding dresses. The dress we both firmly believe is ‘the one’ is the most expensive of any of the dresses she took a fancy to. $1,299…Heather finally agreed to let me help pay for the dress (with Carlisle still in basic training and no other close friends besides me, Heather is doing the impossible and trying to plan a wedding and find them a place to live entirely on her own. And she’s doing it all in five months.) We also marked off another list item (number 18: Go to a restaurant we’ve never been to and try a dish we’ve never had.) We took a stroll around downtown Grapevine (I love Grapevine) and had lunch at an adorable italian cafe. I made sure to get an autograph from our waitress (I should also mention – I’m trying to get 100 autographs in 2012, only 95 to go!) We wandered into a dark tunnel marked with graffiti (okay, maybe we only took several steps in before running out, but that still makes me a rebel, right?) We had a picnic and ate way too much candy (darn you, Walgreens and your 3 for 3$ deals…) We managed to catch up on Ghost Adventures and return our library books, of which I had 36. The process of getting the books from my bedroom floor went something like this:
“Oh! And this one was due two weeks ago.” I said as I handed French Essentials for Dummies to Heather. My arms were already full.
“Please tell me this is the last one.”
“Oh! And this one!”
“Oh! And that one!”
“And that one!”
“And there’s just a couple more by my desk chair.”
“You said you had a few library books!”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“You didn’t say you had an entire library!”
“They add up rather quickly… Oh! And that one by my window!”
I will literally pay dearly for my love of library books and hate of library due dates:
Josh text-messaged me again (the latest text arriving two minutes ago.) I’m back to being on the fence about staying in Texas. But, honestly, I don’t trust my own judgement these days. All I can do is what I’ve been doing my entire life – just taking things as they come and adjusting my plans accordingly. If something happens during the Summer, I will stay, but if not, I’ll move forward with my plans to leave the state. You may have noticed that I’ve been asking for advice more often than I used to, this is out of a childish desire to have other people make tough decisions for me, because I don’t trust myself. I know it’s absurd, and I know I shouldn’t handle big choices by turning to other people to make up my mind for me.
I hope I can explain this in a way that makes sense.
I know who I am, who I want to be, what I want out of life and what I’m looking for in somebody. This is constant, this is steady, this is defined and it is unchanging. But above this cut-and-dry foundation is my emotional life. The things that I want but can’t have, the people I want to reach out to but who wouldn’t understand, the person I want to be with but can’t currently try for. Mixed about these two levels is the day-to-day varying levels of emotion. Ever since childhood I could look at someone when they were speaking and feel what they were feeling (I was a dreadfully emotional child,) and now after all of my studies my ‘spidey sense’ about what people are feeling is amplified. Throughout a conversation if I’m watching your facial expressions, any fluctuations in your emotions I can not only read but feel on a milder level. I can’t stand conflict because when I fight with somebody I see not only basic anger microexpressions but bitter disgust, and without fail it’s like a slap to the face. I’m sensitive to vocal tones so when I hear the tension and resentment in someone’s voice it makes me physically ill instantly. I’ve said it before, but perhaps not as strongly as I should have: people affect me on every level. It’s very easy to get inside my head and I’m admitting it here, it is very easy to manipulate me.
All of that to say, on level one I am always entirely alright because I see the world strictly in logical terms, it’s my common sense, my anchor. It is the reason that even in my most frantic posts, a bit of sanity slips through. Level two is more of a soap opera character wrecking havoc on my peace of mind.
I vanished for a week because I became aware of these two levels of my personality with the odd, rather erratic third level… *Cue lightbulb* Well, I feel like a dummy, I just realized how similar this is to Sigmund Freud’s theory of the ego. Not in terms of consciousness and memory, mind you, but the notion of having a logical ‘I want, but cannot have’ state of mind directly next to an immature ‘I want, and I will have’ state of mind.
Sorry about the sidetrack. In a nutshell, I disappeared because in the middle of the stress of life as of late, my mind is doing that annoying nonstop spinning thing it does, Heather and I started having what we call ‘mini-vacations’ around town and at our favorite spots, which tossed in little patches of peace of mind and genuine happiness. When I write, my life pauses for a few hours, I realize things about myself and my thought process gets flipped upside down. I walk away from every post in a sort of daze, and dive back into life, or otherwise collapse into a pile of books on topics no one cares about and avoid the outside world. I thought since I was so carefree for the first time in years, the last thing I needed was a life-altering realization about anything. I finally knew of the existence of the two levels, and I didn’t want to do anything that might make the emotional level start thinking too much. I would consider writing a new post, but then I would remember, if I published anything, I would have to say goodbye to my mindless bubble of peace and quiet. I logged on out of curiosity a couple of days ago and saw a couple of comments from WordPress friends of mine wishing me well and worrying about me, I checked my e-mail and found messages from other WordPressers asking how I am (and I do hope that this has always been a given: always feel free to contact me if you have anything to say about a post that you don’t want to comment on, or if a thought occurs or even if you just want to send me an e-mail ‘just because’, you can find my e-mail address on my gravatar profile) At once I decided to write a new post explaining my silence, but for the first time in a long while, I stared at a white screen and no words appeared in my mind. No words. I rarely get writer’s block when it comes to The Last Classic. I can just pull up a screen even when I don’t feel like writing and the next thing I know I’m writing a ridiculously long post, I usually wrap it up and publish it in about three hours altogether.
I’ve been writing this post for three days. And 80% of what you have just read I wrote in the past two hours. I’ve been just deleting and retyping and deleting over and over again… Overall, my return to my blog has been a long one, and rather unpleasant. This is certainly not my finest work, but I had to get the ball rolling again somehow.
Alright then, Heather Madame and I are going to get up early for church tomorrow and I should get some rest. I leave you with this:
All of you have never failed to make me feel loved, valued and respected. And thank you for showing your concern and keeping up with my life.
Until I Write Again,