I ran into an awkward, sweet guy I’d gotten to know in the crazy socialness of Welcome Week. He had just come from reslife to get a key for one of the piano rooms in Argo. I remember that he lived in Blake, and ribbing him for being an Argo wannabe. I eventually started to end the conversation and he hesitated, then asked me if I wanted to listen to him play the piano. Who wouldn’t say yes to a serenade! He played this song for me, then another, then sang for me, and then tried to teach me piano. I was hopeless, of course.
It meant a lot. People don’t always do nice shit for you; people aren’t always vulnerable to your judgement. We never really talked again, but it was a really nice moment that will always stand out as the example of how good a fresh start in college is.
“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”—Gary Provost (via atomos)
Ya’aburnee Arabic – Both morbid and beautiful at once, this incantatory word means “You bury me,” a declaration of one’s hope that they’ll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them.
1. maybe I’m so angry because they haven’t ever been sorry. or asked for forgiveness. I guess I’m not as vindictive as I think, because every time someone does admit their wrong, I forgive and forget.
2. I can’t take myself seriously. It’s weird. I take myself too seriously, and I can’t take myself seriously because of that; I can’t trust feelings at face value for that. I’m a generous person who loves easily. I’m sensitive and nice and I think I do have that heart of gold my mom always talks about. When I get upset, I’m like a little child throwing a temper tantrum, thinking they’re all big and scary. I’m not scary. I can’t do anything cruel. I’m just too fucking nice for that. I’ve been called intimidating but I really don’t think I could hurt anyone.
2. I realize now that much of that kind of pain has been self inflicted. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I brought myself misery. I hope finally recognizing that means I will never do that again. It was all in my head, every time. That is so scary that I put myself through that.
But it gives me hope, because it wasn’t those people who were bad, it was me who was mad. I can deal with me. :]