Food For Thought

I was reading an article today entitled 'Top Five Regrets of The Dying', by Bronnie Ware (for full article, click here: http://exposingthetruth.info/top-five-regrets-of-the-dying/).  I thought I might flesh out my own thoughts about each regret, maybe in the hope that I can change the way I live my life for the better.  And if it inspires someone else who might happen upon this meditation of sorts, then all the better.


Regret No. 1: I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.  To be honest, I think this is one I've been good at.  My Mom always told me growing up that I should never be afraid to be myself - that I was unique and that was wonderful.  So I never felt the need to cave to what others thought I should be or do.  In subtle ways, though, I can see that sometimes I did what I thought would make men want me - kissing, making out, etc.  It wasn't until this past year when I really realized how much I'd given away emotionally (and physically) in romantic relationships - all because I thought it would make me more 'sexy' or appealing to a man, and make him stay.  The right guy will like you without all that stuff.


Regret No. 2: I wish I didn’t work so hard.  Ha!  Actually, if I could get myself to work harder, that would be awesome.  Sometimes, though, I have regrets about how much school and all my violin practicing takes me away from time I'd rather be spending with people I care about.  I missed two of my friends' weddings this summer, all because I had gigs - the only jobs I have that can pay my way through college.  They understood, but I still wish there was another way.  How can I complain about others not making time for a relationship with me when I can't make time for others...?


Regret No. 3: I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.  Anyone who knows me also knows that I have no problems expressing my feelings.  To someone's face, though - not so easily done.  But my poetry tells all.  If there's something I'm feeling - something major, something I can't get out of my head - it's there.  So if you're not sure how I'm really feeling about something, read between the lines.  I speak in metaphor, and no names are usually mentioned; but if it's you I'm talking about, you'll know...


Regret No. 4: I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.  This is a challenge, now that I'm further away from home than in undergrad.  And unfortunately, there are definitely people I've fallen out of touch with.  I come home for a weekend, and I'd love to see my friends then - but there really isn't time when your travel time is 5 hours and you have to practice for lessons, play a gig, go to church, and maybe even manage to sleep 7 hours a night.  As I gradually drift from home, it's inevitable that I don't spend enough time with the people I care about.


Regret No. 5: I wish that I had let myself be happier.  This is the real challenge for me.  Automatically I feel like I'm always looking on the down side of things.  (Maybe that's a universal thing?)  I'm extremely critical of myself, and when you're always thinking about what goes wrong in your life and what mistakes you've made, it really weighs you down.  Being a twenty-something and single woman also gets me down more than it probably should.  Some days I enjoy the freedom - other days it's all I can do not to think of all the guys who left, and wonder if one will ever stay with me.  It's not that I necessarily think it's my fault (or even their fault, in some cases) that they left - but that somehow God saw fit for it not to work out, I think, is what hurts.  Of course I want to be ready for the blessings in my life - personal or professional.  But it's the in-between time - the journey - that is so painful.  When you dream of something, no one can tell you how much it's really going to hurt, to get there.  But I really want to be a happier person - hopefully before I get to where I'm going.

Disclaimer

If you're a sensitive person, or get offended easily, don't read this.  When I'm honest, sometimes I'm brutally honest...


Sometimes I feel like such an outsider.  I can't even go to a party without having someone give me a funny look when I say I'm a vegetarian.  I mean, what is it with people who ask me how I've Survived all my life??  Clearly I have, and with a little flesh to spare, so since I'm obviously not starving to death, why do they ask such a stupid question??  Just because I prefer not to eat dead, rotting flesh?  Honestly.  These people must not give any thought as to what horrid suffering that animal had to go through, just so they can have their 'protein' - as though that's the Real reason they support the cruel slaughter of innocent animals...


Then I say that Bloomington, Indiana seems like a big city - certainly the most populated place I've ever lived.  Oh, then they jump all over me.  God forbid someone musically talented might've grown up in the backwoods of nowhere...  They look at me like I'm some sheltered, naive little girl - like I'm stupid or something.  Hello!?  It's not like I haven't been to big cities.  I Know what a big city IS.  They don't even let me finish the statement - that it's the biggest city I've ever lived in, and thus is an adjustment.  Wish I could cram that look right back into their skulls where it came from.  Just having grown up in the country, and being amidst all these musical city people makes me feel enough like a fish out of water, without those kinds of looks and comments.  (Oh, and my parents aren't paying for my new Audi or my entire college education, either.)


On Facebook, I look at all the status updates and once again feel out of place.  I don't have kids (hell, I don't even Want kids), and No, I Don't care about how much you love your kids or if they talked, walked or even puked on you today.  I'm not in a relationship.  God, don't even get me started on this one.  The last thing I want to hear, as an ambivalently single person is how much someone *luuuuuvs* their special someone.  Ick.  It's enough to make me gag.  Look, it's not that I'm not happy for my friends.  I just wish they wouldn't spread their joy around so much.  Maybe I'm just bitter.  Or maybe I just need something to be pissed off about, and for now this suits me.


And no, I Don't like sports.  God forbid I be a girl and not like sports.  And no, I really don't care about who beat who, or who roots for who.  Don't care.  Don't care.  Don't care.


Luckily for me, I never cared about being popular.  So if people don't talk to me again after reading this, I'll just say it's their loss.  My mom always told me to be the person I really am, unique to the last - I just never knew how much it might hurt and anger me to be so different.  I'm a fireball; I'll be the first to admit it.  I've got a loud mouth and I don't like to be told what to do.  People can't usually handle me, because I say what I mean and I don't care what anyone thinks.  I've never been afraid to be myself.  Like Coldplay says, 'no one ever said it would be this hard'.  No one ever told me how much - or how long - it would hurt, being so different...  Being, unabashedly, me.

Wrong Way On A One-Way Street

I've postponed practicing all day.  There's so much work to be done...  Where is my energy?  Where is my drive?  If I was in love, I'd have more energy.  Maybe.  I wonder sometimes if I could ever fall in love with the violin again.  That passion seems like the furthest thing from me - so distant it remains only as a vague memory; something I haven't really seen with my own eyes in years.  I cannot remember what gave me passion.  I can only remember what took it away.  Will I ever reconcile with practicing when I don't want to, when I don't feel like it?  I feel so behind, and the more I try to catch up, the faster I burn myself out and slow myself down even more.  I often secretly envy those who are constantly falling - who never seem to fall out of love with it.  And I wonder, am I doing something wrong?  Is the answer so obvious I just can't see it?  All I want is to love this like I used to.  But that was when it gave me life.  Now it seems only to suck the life from me.  And I can't go back.  I can only go forward.  I'd be fine, if only I could figure out what that meant.


I'm a grad student now.  The expectations are much higher for me.  But does a degree make a person more - more than they already are?  Maybe by the end of the program.  But I don't feel any more capable of handling stress and pressure - not to mention emotions - than I did before.  I expect so much from myself, even without consciously thinking it or saying it.  Bad lessons, excuses (even realistic reasons), and not practicing when I don't want to are no longer okay.  I feel less and less human, the longer I push myself along this path.  When did this become the wrong way...?  For surely if this was right, I would not suffer so.  I thought this was my destiny.  If it's not...  What do I do now?  Is it just a phase?  Or is God trying to tell me it's time for something different?  I don't want to quit.  I want to finish this degree.  But how much of me do I have to sacrifice, to kill...  Before I finally lose the desire I'm still struggling to regain...?

Quarter-Life Crisis

I think I'm going through a latent teenage rebel phase.  Not that I was ever a conformist.  Ha!  As far from it as possible, methinks.  But lately, everything that hasn't gone my way, hasn't been done the exact way I wanted it, has elicited angry responses from me, making everyone around me (and myself, as well) wonder if I really Do have an anger problem, after all.  Everything I have to do, and don't want to do, seems an inconvenience of immense proportions.  And then I wonder, am I growing more selfish as I age?  It wouldn't be too inappropriate a question to ask...


Perhaps the worst thing is that, at least partly, I don't really care.  All my life, I've been a 'good little girl', following all the rules to the last.  Maybe I'm tired of playing that role, living that life, when I'm not altogether sure it's who I am.  Maybe I Want to feel some sort of consequence for my actions.  Maybe it would make me feel like I'm really in control of my life, instead of feeling constantly as though someone else has the wheel.  Now, none of this is to say that I'm going to start breaking and entering, vandalizing, mass-murdering or the like.  But I feel that this 'my way or the highway' business is all part of wanting to break out of that heretofore mentioned role - that skin I've been in all my life thus far.  While my ever-critical conscience is keeping me on a tight leash morally and ethically, I don't feel it necessary to be directly opposed to this upheaval of identity.  On the other side of this angry, insecure, and unsure phase is something all the more beautiful - a more true self-image and identity.


Before the last few months, I thought I knew who I was.  And, for a time, I did - and the image I held of myself was as accurate as it could possibly be.  But that image has changed.  It may seem strange to say so, but I (foolishly) thought that I had myself mostly figured out.  As it turns out, that's not even halfway true.  But that's not a bad thing.  I will change over time, coming to these places where I find myself more frequently discontent; and then, out of struggle, there is rebirth - a new life, and a new way of seeing myself and the world around me.  And this, in essence, is the very process of life - the process of getting to know oneself.  I've always believed that you cannot be truly known unless you know who you are, yourself.  And I've always believed that if people came to know who I really was, they would like me.  Maybe not love me, but at least like me.  (Though, of course, there is always the deep heart-hope that you will be loved when you are truly known.)  Perhaps that's true; perhaps it's not.  Perhaps I'm more of an acquired taste.


Looking at photos from my friends' weddings, I wonder if that's not more true than I can even imagine.  Especially in this transformation phase, maybe it Is best if I'm single.  But that doesn't make it easier to watch friends walk down the aisle...  While I stand by, wondering what I've done wrong, to deserve this supreme isolation of sorts.  Everyone tells me it's best if I 'stay away from the boys', and concentrate on the violin, on my career.  But, to what point?  At what age do I say 'oh, I've concentrated on my career long enough; let's get married!"?  Thirty?  Forty?  Fifty??  I've always thought that if I wasn't married by age fifty, I'd give it up and stop looking.  Maybe I'm overzealous.  I've always wondered if I scare guys away by how much affection and emotion I feel - and very fast.  I'm an emotional creature; and I love to give love - often before receiving it (but Especially after!).  Guys want to feel like they're in charge of the relationship; and when women take the initiative, they back off because they feel out of control (or, at least, that's what I'm told).  I guess it makes sense.  The only problem is, I'm an initiator.  Big time.  I've always thought that it would require quite a man to be able to 'handle me'.  Maybe I was more right than I even initially thought.  I don't know how to be any other way, than the way I am.  It's so much a part of me that, to change it would feel like ripping out the rug from under my own feet - a change in self-image and identity that I don't want to make.  I like the way I am.  In fact, I Love the way I am.  And I think someday, a man will love the way I am, too.  I just...  Haven't found him yet.

Searching

  It’s thundering outside.  How fitting…  Darkness and turmoil within…  Darkness and turmoil without.  Sometimes, as I’m out in public, I speak an inner narrative to myself, almost to no one in particular, about my life or my feelings…  Yet I know that someone is always listening, even if it’s only God and I don’t get to share my feelings and thoughts with someone else.  But I always like to share my thoughts with other people, if I can.  Sometimes, I feel as though I’m writing a novel in my mind - a serious yet strange narrative, consisting of smaller stories that seem to have no connection the previous or next.  A narrative that I write, almost as though they were my memoirs…  Except that I have no thought that many people would read it.  In fact, I would be surprised if even one person took the time to comb through it all - perhaps Abby; she might be the only person.  But why would she?  She knows all that this narrative might hold…  She would because she cares, and she will always care.  This is why she is my best friend.  Maybe David would read it.  And probably my mother, if she were still alive.  But this narrative I speak of is not this written one.  Rather, it is the one engraved upon my heart.

I keep hoping, in my heart of hearts, that some man will see it.  I don’t know how it would be possible, but I still hope it, anyway.  Maybe the reason I’m such a cynic about love is that I want someone to tell me it’s possible.  I want a man to prove me wrong…  To prove to me that true love IS possible.  And maybe it still is.  After all, I’m still young and have many years left…  But it’s hard to believe, when all I’ve gotten is…  Well…  Nothing.  A whole lot of it.  It’s all I’ve ever known - a world where men Don’t know what love is, and don’t know how to love a woman.  This is reality.  The painful reality that saddens me each time I look at a child.  I think to myself, ‘they don’t even know how much it’s going to hurt…’  Life has only taught me painful things about love.  If God is love, then…  where is God, in the world of men?
Which leads me to question - Should I believe in love?  Should I want to get married, want to have that intimate love relationship with someone?  It feels like wanting something I can’t have…  Like wanting the impossible.  Is it possible for two people to get married, and really be happy together?  Ha!  Yeah…  When neither of them are anything like me.  I mean, maybe I’m not cut out for marriage.  I have no patience, and I can be grumpy, negative, and complaining a lot more of the time than is probably acceptable.  I’m irritable.  EASILY.  Irritable.  A Lot of things irritate me.  And I like to have things my way.  All of this makes me a bad candidate for marriage.  I can’t deal with the presence of others in close proximity.  Of course, the less I trust them, then the harder it is.  And then there's the fact that I don't want kids; people ask me why I want to get married if I don't want kids (and then I face the 'you're selfish' charges).  But marriage?  In my scope?  Yeah right.  Maybe if I changed my whole freaking personality…

I’ve always felt like I had a ‘head in the clouds’ sort of vagueness about life.  Like I knew what all the older people said about life and love, but I somehow believed it could be different for me…  Because I was…  Me?  As though being me would change everything.  As though… being me would change Anything.  It was youth, I suppose.  I Feel as though what I’m saying is jaded, cynical.  I Feel the cynicism, in my bones.  And to be honest, I don’t know how to Stop feeling that way.  God is the answer.  I know that.  I don’t know How He is the solution; I just know that He is.  But I wish I didn’t live in such a heartbreaking life.  At the end of every day, that is what I wish.

But this life cannot be changed by wishing; sometimes I think it cannot even be changed by doing.  I feel myself searching for answers.  What should I do with my life?  What is possible to do, with a life?  What is a worthy enough cause to devote myself to?  How can I do something that is significant, and not just to me?  It is not enough to just ‘work’ and ‘earn a living’ and ‘pay the bills’.  It is not even enough to be passionate about what I do.  What is passion, if it is self-centered?  I somehow cannot bear to live an insignificant life - one that has no meaning or bearing on the lives of others.

This whole, practicing and performing thing…  My gift to the world is beauty.  In a bad economy beauty isn’t ‘necessary’.  It’s bad enough I’m searching for significance - worse that the world (and the job market) is telling me I’m not really all that vital.  To a certain point, I guess I do buy into it.  I mean, what difference does beauty Really make…?  What do I change in this world, from having lived in it, from having given my music to it?  Have I made a mark?  Have I made an impression on the hearts of others that will outlive me?  What is so incredibly important is not that I was involved in it - but that it made a difference.  Some people are gifted - with a vision and a purpose, from an early age.  But I have always been searching.  It’s not enough to simply have a job or even a purpose.  I must have Significance.  The only problem is…  I don’t know what that means yet.

Tossing The Bucket List

Why do we even need a 'bucket list'?  Waiting until death is in our scope until we dare to live the way we always wanted to live - what's the reason in it all?  We give some reason, like 'life is complicated', 'I have work to do', or some other excuse.  But no matter the reason, life does not come our way because we don't put it first.  It's good to be responsible, to be sure - but when work comes between us and living life to the fullest...  It is too much.  Often I find myself up to my neck in work, and wishing it were not so.  Where is the time to spend with those I care about?  Why am I a million miles from the people I care about most of all?  Trying to 'achieve' and 'fulfill my potential' - sometimes it feels superficial.  So what if I achieve all that I can achieve?  What is any of it worth if, in the end, I am alone?  If I have told no one I love that I loved them - and told them how much I loved them??


It bothers me that people (including myself) live so casually.  As if tomorrow is a guarantee... Only those who have had terminal illnesses (especially those who survive) can appreciate this idea fully.  Tomorrow is not guaranteed.  A fire in my house could burn me to death while I'm sleeping.  I could die in a car accident.  Any number of things!  I don't mean to be morbid, but not all deaths give us warning.  Life is short - and time is always, always running out.  Youth, in particular, gives the illusion that life lasts forever.  But it doesn't.  Yet we live as though we have all eternity to say what we should just say, do what we should just do.  Why the procrastination?  Do you think it will mean more in the midst of an important moment?  Do you think it will mean more if you're near death, or in a dire situation?  Love is meaningful not because it is expressed sparingly and lightly, but because it is expressed constantly and deeply.


The tendency of people to live such superficial lives bothers me.  What really gets me is when they think their work will give them lives of meaning - which in some cases, can be very true.  But where they might go wrong is stopping there.  I can't stand workaholics.  If you want to know why I'm not a better violinist than I am, it's because I can't stand to work my life away.  There are much more important things to me than just practicing all the time.  Life is short.  Take advantage of every opportunity you want to take, and don't let life pass you by.  Sure, you may have regrets - but at least they'll be regrets about daring to live, daring to love...  Instead of regrets that you never took a chance in living, that you never took a chance in loving.

Hello & Welcome

My first blog entry...  Hm.  Honestly, I never thought I would cave to this idea of a public journal.  I mean, seriously!  Firstly, who would even care enough to bother reading this stuff?  And secondly, some things are to remain in the private sphere - as in, not Anywhere where Google can keep track of it and show it to everyone in the universe who searches for me.  That said, there are things I'll say here, and things I will absolutely never say here.  What business is mine will stay mine - and that's that.  But, on to the real meat of this entry...


I love pop music.  I always have, and, don't get me wrong, I still do.  I listen to Lady Gaga, Christina Aguilera, and Britney Spears.  But what pop music has evolved to be?  It takes absolutely no creativity whatsoever to make chord progressions over mad trance beats - which is basically what so much pop music (at least on the radio and music TV stations) has become.  It's disappointing.  I remember when pop music actually had real music, with real melodies.  And it wasn't that long ago, either.


Does music reflect the age, or does the age reflect the music?  Perhaps both.  We are all, in one way or another, a product of our time.  The current time, being, of course, one of instant information, instant gratification.  (I like to call it 'information overload' - blame that on growing up in the country...)  We can hardly pay attention on one thing for more than the length of an average pop song (probably around 2-3 minutes).  We want more, and we want it now - that's the attitude of our age.  Yet did we not bring this age upon ourselves?  Constantly pushing toward getting things done more quickly, more efficiently...  It is an age of ever-growing anxiety in the race against the clock.  And the anxiety is seen in our music.


It takes time to compose a song - even a pop song.  But the time is not taken to write a proper song and melody these days.  The dance beats throb in our ears even when we lie down to sleep at night, and in the morning we wake up tired and unrefreshed - but the coffee and the beat keeps us going.  (At what cost?)  But, I tell you, it is worthless to me.  It's not to say that I don't enjoy the pop music of today - some of it I quite like.  I'm only lamenting the fact that more creativity isn't put into the popular music of my age.