Tag: shortread

dominoes and Dostoevsky

My god, a moment of bliss. Why, isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

I feel like I spent the past year setting up dominoes for hours and hours (read: months and months) and now it’s finally time to knock the first domino over and watch everything that I so carefully planned fall into place.

Some things aren’t an explosive firework result, but more like a steady match. Maybe most things. A slow and steady burn yields better results than a wild blaze.

It’s easy to come up with dreams and live them out in your head. But how revolutionary it is to bring them to fruition and see them manifest.

Now, after waiting and plowing and sowing and watering, I feel like I’m seeing the sprouts grow. The foundation was laid, the work is done.

I think I’m going to let myself be excited. Let myself get my hopes up because I worked for it, goddamnit. I worked so hard for so many months and then I got to rest for a bit and now we’re back with new challenges but I’m excited to face them because I know I can. (read: I KNOW I CAN.)

I just finished my to-do list and it’s time to make a new one.

warming my hands on bridges I’ve burnt, and why that’s okay according to Aristotle

I lost a couple friends this past year and I didn’t give a shit.

And I thought,
Am I sad enough about this?

I thought,
Did I really care about those friendships or did I waste my time on people who I shouldn’t have for too long?

I thought,
Am I being heartless?

I thought,
Will people think I’m a bad friend for being honest about not caring that much?

Then I remembered one of my favorite philosophy classes from college about relationships, and how different philosophers have defined them.

Aristotle said there are three types of friendships: one based on utility, one based on pleasure, and one on mutual appreciation of each other’s values.

A friendship based on utility is basically a relationship that lasts as long as you’re both getting something out of it. Like a transaction. Sort of like a coworker who you’re only work friends with for as long as you’re at that job. Once you leave, you don’t see them again and they don’t see you again but you mutually benefitted from being positive to each other while you were at work. Aristotle said this is popular with older people.

A friendship based on pleasure is more emotional and supposed to usually be the shortest relationship. You stay friends for as long as you both enjoy the same thing, and you break up as soon as one person doesn’t.

Aristotle said the pleasure friendship is more common between younger people because as we grow we tend to change our interests and values, so we grow out of pleasure friendships quicker than the other types.

The third type of friendship is based on virtues, and it has the strongest connections and lasts the longest. The best friendships should be based on appreciation of character — not on a transactional (utility or pleasure) value — and shape our lives for the better.

I think this really explains why I wasn’t sad about the friends that I lost this year.

One was a girl who I went out drinking with and talked about guys we were dating. We would meet up and both hop on dating apps and squeal about who we had matched with, who we’d met, and who we were dating for a while, but once I stopped caring about those things we ended up really not having anything else in common. We didn’t even like the same music or shows. Our friendship was a pleasure transaction, and as soon as I stopped using dating apps we stopped being friends.

I ended up not missing her at all as soon as we stopped being friends because she didn’t really add anything else to my life. Our values weren’t the same at all: we couldn’t relate about our jobs, our education level was different, and we had different political views. The death of our friendship was short-lived and unmourned. I actually felt better knowing I didn’t have to talk to her again, because I didn’t want to talk about the same things we used to.

Aristotle said that when you have a friendship based on appreciating each other’s values, the other two types of friendship naturally combine into it, too. Thing of your diehard BFFs that you’ll drive to the airport, invite over to watch 90 Day Fiancé, and help out during a hard time. They’re beneficial and pleasurable, and you also respect and care for them.

I’m extremely thankful for all of my top tier friends and I’m cool with warming my hands on the bridges I’ve burned with my limited time only buddies.

I think a butterfly just flew out of my mouth

I can’t stop thinking about the butterfly thing, where he really said I think a butterfly just flew out of my mouth. And it doesn’t make me feel how it did at all any more, but it is so easy to remember how it used to make me feel. Like I’m watching myself act it out in a little movie.

I remember how much I reread that text over and over and over and over and I could have survived off of just knowing that someone felt that way about anyone. I only need three hours of sleep and a daydream when I feel like that.

Where you keep starting to do something and just forget right in the middle of it because he said he got butterflies from thinking about you so you drop everything and lay on the floor to ground yourself before you go flying into the Milky Way. And every time you pass by a mirror you go !!!! She Knows Something I’m Afraid To Think and you give yourself that little smile and can’t even let your own eyes meet or you’ll lose your grip on gravity yet again.

How strange it is that we can even get to that point. Where all you feel is !!!! and the butterflies in your tummy fly up to your heart and out of your throat and out of your mouth right in the middle of the airport and everyone’s wondering how did a monarch butterfly land right here in Terminal 3? But you hardly even notice because of all the butterflies still trying to make your feet lift right off of the ground so you swallow a thousand times until you feel about 60% certain that everybody can’t tell you’re in Big L.

He sent it from the airport. We weren’t texting before and I didn’t know how to reply. I probably read it a hundred times before I even thought about how to answer and the funny thing is I can’t remember how I answered at all. Some memories are like that. I remember exactly how I felt and how I pictured him sending the message and how it made me feel for the longest time, but I don’t know what I said back. Probably something mediocre because how can you beat a lyricist at the word game and in general I never know what to say just that I feel too much of it.

The picture is from Jude Guench, from a short story called The Butterfly Eater. I feel it is much more appropriate to how I feel now and in a way I feel like our stories parallel each other’s.

hasta la vista baby! enjoy your dream life

I wish someone would tell me what to do sometimes. Like hey, we reviewed your file and decided that based on 100% reliable facts and science that you definitely should stay and be safe. The world is your oyster and will deliver you all of the opportunities you want and you will never want for anything more. Here’s a coupon to Bath and Body, go get a nice relaxing candle because you deserve it!

OR!

Hey, we have predicted that you’re going to zoom up up up in life but ONLY if you leave now it’s a one night only blowout sale for your amazing future the prices are unbeatable everything must go and everything means YOU! Hasta la vista baby enjoy your dream life! You are a fucking monolith of immutable force, eat up the world and consume the stars.

It’s supposed to be the time to grow and I don’t want to mess up and shrink.

on re(a)d

I am currently in the market to buy a new (used) car. I want a Volkswagen Beetle convertible, and I can’t decide on the color. Red cars have a 7% higher risk of getting into an accident than other car colors, according to a google search that I just did.

Is it because red stands out the most? I don’t see too many red cars on the road, maybe because it’s a well known fact that the red car is more likely to get hit by oncoming traffic.

What is it about society wanting to take out something that stands out more than the other boring things? Red, the individual, inevitably gets dented by the much less cool, less vibrant grey.

Autolist.com says that silver is the most popular car color, next is white, with black in fifth. Bright red cars become more likely to be driven if the car in question is a convertible (double the difference).

I wonder if people that get into car crashes while driving their red cars end up buying a different colored car the next time they’re shopping around. Did the crash discourage them from standing out? Make them want to fit in?

If I crashed in a red car I would simply buy another red car out of spite. Hit me baby one more time. Miss me in the red.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the red car on the road of proverbial life. Easiest to see and most likely to get taken out by oncoming traffic. Very likely to stay left on re(a)d.

impacts

The answer to most of my security questions online is my first grade best friend’s middle name. I used to live in a suburb of Seattle called Puyallup before moving to California in fourth grade. After I moved we never spoke again but I still know her middle name.

There are people I don’t talk to anymore that have had such an impact on my life. I still wear a friend from 8th grade’s P.E. shirt to bed sometimes because we accidentally switched shirts at a sleepover and never ended up giving them back.

I still listen to a band that my very first boyfriend showed me, and it’s one of my favorites.

And I still make a crunchy tuna casserole that one of my elementary school friend’s mom showed me. Half of their casserole was made without peas because her dad didn’t like them but the rest of the family did. I wonder if they still do that.

Our lives are made up of so many people, and sometimes you keep pieces of them long after they have left your life.

At the same time, there are so many lives that you have left some kind of impact on like this. I wonder what parts of me are alive in someone else that I have no idea about.

compatibility + obsession = love?

Last night I sat and talked with a very old friend of mine for hours. We talked about love, and contemplated whether the kind of love that hopeless romantics like us look for is even real. Is the formula for love compatibility + infatuation? I think I have only ever felt one, or the other, and finding a combination of those seems impossible. But at the same time it’s everywhere; it’s in every book I’ve ever read, it’s what I see when I look at my parents’ relationship.

I once said that I was a closet hopeless romantic. My friend responded by saying: 

“Oh my god. You are the most out of the closet hopeless romantic. You are literally running in the streets screaming through a megaphone letting everybody know exactly who you are at all times.”

I am a goal-oriented person. I make goals and then I obsess completely about them until they are reached. I am like a tiny little ant lifting a crumb to bring to the queen. Goal. Goal. Goal. This is a very good way to be when it comes to my career.

One of my biggest goals is to fall in love, but you can’t will yourself into love or set aside some time to do so. I don’t think that the heart really takes your goals under consideration. Hearts are very inconsiderate things.

There will never be a right time, but I think that there is a right person. You just have to find that compatibility and then become infatuated with them (or vice versa), and exist in that state forever. Sounds easy, right?

With dating apps it’s easy to trick yourself into thinking that you decide when you get to fall in love, but I just don’t know if that’s how it really works.

I still hope that I’ll meet someone at a party, and he’ll say he couldn’t stop staring at me from across the room. Or at a coffee shop, where he asks “is this seat taken?” and we begin a deep conversation. Or I’m in my favorite book store, and he will compliment my impeccable taste in literature and fall in love with me.

it’s weird that they say hopeless romantics when it’s just the opposite. I’m so full of hope for romance, and I’m so happy that it exists. I just want a taste of it for my own.

on being spiteful

The thing about being spiteful is you really only end up hurting yourself. Put down the can of Spite.

I think one of the main reasons why I have achieved what I have achieved is not something to be proud of. I am a person who works better when I am trying to prove something. I am a person that works harder because I don’t ever want to be a victim of anything.

I am a spiteful person.

When somebody does something to you and you get hurt, I think you get to choose whether you use that moment to propel you forward or to set you back.

I, like most people, have been burned a lot. By friends, by boyfriends, by coworkers, and family. But I don’t know whether how I handle it is entirely healthy. I tend to internalize things and out of spite I decide that I need to work hard to prove that I didn’t deserve that treatment.

I have a family member that lives to bring people down. They don’t put any effort into their own wellbeing or personal growth but they love to bash everyone else and judge everyone else for their actions. They lie, cheat, steal, and use other people and never care at all about how it effects the people that love them.

You could get recognized for something cool at work or at school, and they’d say it only happened because you’re a suckup or you got lucky. They know how to push your buttons just right because it’s the only thing they’re good at, the only skill they’ve applied themselves to. And I could write a whole other essay about how shitty saying someone is only successful because they “got lucky” is.

My response to that kind of behavior has been to prove that I can and will be better than that. I worked twice as hard, literally at two jobs, while they did drugs and insulted the family members we lived with. I got accepted to every college I applied for while they got denied, and I felt good.

I know you aren’t supposed to compare yourself to other people, and that’s my biggest flaw. For all of my virtues, for every time that I don’t lie, cheat, or steal, I make myself feel empowered by comparing myself to the people I know that do.

I dated someone that struggled to get a career doing what he loved, and my response after he dumped me was to get my dream job. Instead of working through the pain of a breakup, I worked for an entire year to make sure that I was nowhere in the same league of success as him. I wish I would have taken the time to grieve, to be sad and angry, because those emotions came later. They all flooded back like fresh wounds after I got what I wanted, and I kept cyberstalking him to make sure that he was still a loser and that what I did was worth it.

I thought that if he ever saw me again or looked at my social media profiles, he would see how much better I was doing and it would hurt and annoy him. I want my family member to look at my life and see that their life doesn’t shine as brightly because they are a pitch black pit of negativity. For all the pain they cause my family and me, I want to send it back harder with my success.

I hate flakiness and when my friends don’t follow through with their plans, so I set weird timelines for not looking at their snapchat stories, not replying to their texts, and not making plans with them. I asked you to go with me to an event two weeks ahead of time and you cancelled the day of? See you in six months, and don’t expect a text back from me until after I went to that cool new place you’ve been wanting to go to.

If I wasn’t so spiteful maybe I could stop and slow down and enjoy the life I have built. Maybe I would have more friends and be less successful, and maybe that would be okay. Maybe I’d be happier?

I’ve been trying to work on finding other reasons to push myself. I have been trying to stop comparing myself to other people and make time to stop and appreciate what I already have.

Being a spiteful person is mentally taxing. Because I don’t say spiteful things, or lash out at people to hurt them, in fact I really don’t think anyone would call me a spiteful person at all. But I do it all internally, and at the end of the day the only person who gets harmed is me. It’s very passive aggressive.

This is hard to write, and harder to come to terms with. I hope someone else out there feels like this and has a strategy to battle it. How do you deal with comparing yourself to others, and how do you motivate yourself in a healthy way?

on pink coffin-shaped nails

I think, like horoscopes, that there is a little bit of all of this in every woman. What part of your personality do your nails highlight?

Getting your nails done gives you control, power, and a show of your individualism.

You pick the color, the shape, the length, the medium. You pick based on how you feel, what you want the world to know about you, what you want the cashier at the store to see when you hand them your payment.

What do your nails say about you?

Image courtesy of Mashable Infographics.

Let’s start at the beginning. What shape are you going for today?

Square and squoval nails are straightforward. I see them on a businesswoman with a family, someone who cares about herself but doesn’t want to sacrifice the functionality of her hands. A mom who wants to be able to play catch with her kids without breaking a nail, and types on a keyboard all day on the office without drawing too much attention to the clacking of the keys.

Round, oval, and almond nails are for old souls. A girl that wears a red lip as an accessory to any outfit. She’s refined, well-spoken, and always orders the same drink at the bar (with a straw of course). She has an animal that she’s very close to, and animals like her. She likes when things look nice, and comes off as organized and put together but her car is a mess.

Coffin nails are for women who talk with their hands. She gets excited easily, and has a few things that she is very passionate about. She likes to show off a little, can be called dramatic, but she makes the best secret keeper. This is the girl that breaks hearts but only a little bit on purpose.

Stiletto nails are for that bitch. She watches beauty tutorials on YouTube, or maybe she has her own content channel. She always smells good and gives everybody advice that she never takes herself. She’s always aware of the newest trends, but she only chooses to follow things that suit her. She definitely has a tattoo somewhere, and it probably has a cool meaning behind it.

Image courtesy of COSCELIA Nail Varnish.

Time to pick your color. There’s always a big book or key ring of plastic nails to flip through and this decision has heavy implications about who you are.

A solid red is sexy. It says everything you need it to. There’s a power behind every hand gesture, and a promise. Red reminds me of the lady from the movie Holes that painted her nails with snake venom.

A solid white is for a girl that is funny on Twitter, but pretty calm in real life. She takes a lot of pictures. White nails look good every day of the year, but they also need to be refreshed more often. It’s expensive to keep up but it’s worth the luxury.

Fun colors like teal, purple, color-changing show that you like to have fun. If you can get your nails done every two weeks you might as well try every color. You probably get the newest drink at Starbucks just to try it. Fearless.

Getting one sparkly nail evokes a little bit of fun, but it’s like a little secret. Catch me if you can. Getting a full set of sparkly nails is wild and I don’t trust you but I bet you own either two disco balls or two diamonds. The B.D.E. of a woman with a full set of sparkly nails is off the charts.

A girl that goes in with a design has anxiety. She took a screenshot of nails she spent an hour going through Pinterest choosing, but she didn’t trust the internet connection in the nail salon to pull up her picture so she screenshotted it and while waiting for her name to be called she had the picture pulled up and made sure the screen wouldn’t lock when she showed it to the nail tech.

Who are you this time? I think, like horoscopes, that there is a little bit of all of this in every woman. But what nails you choose say a lot about what part of your personality you want to highlight at that time.

This week I am medium-length, pink coffin-shaped gel acrylics. And it feels good.

sudden repulsion syndrome

Sudden Repulsion Syndrome is what happens when a small decision or behavior puts an abrupt end to a budding relationship.

I get fight or flight but for relationships.

Like I loveloveloveloved maybe one or two people in my life, and out of nowhere I’d wake up one day and be so disgusted by them. The day before I was writing them in my diary and daydreaming about their cologne, and then suddenly I would gag at the thought of one guy’s laugh, at another guy’s little moles.

I think my least favorite part about myself is how I can never decide on anything but I always know how I feel about someone because my brain sends some strong chemicals 3000% too quick. I don’t know I’m over a relationship until I’m physically repelled by the person I thought I was happy about.

Or I’m 3000% the other way, and the norepinephrine, dopamine, serotonin are like little butterflies trying to make their way out of my throat while I profess some kind of undying love.

I’ll fight so hard or I’ll run so fast, and neither of us is ever ready for that.