Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

Due to my complete lack of friends, and the fact that the friends I keep do, in fact, happen to have lives, I've spent the last two nights inside watching movies and reading. Upon finishing my most recent book, Identical by Ellen Hopkins, I came upon an excerpt of her upcoming book, Perfect. While reading the several page teaser, I couldn't stop thinking about the first page. As my eyes continued to read on, my mind still stayed focused on the beginning lines of the awaited novel. It spoke of perfection and questioned why we try to reach something undefinable and therefore unattainable. I have tried to describe this path of pondering in my own words before but could never quite get it right. I couldn't quite bring it to light in a way that other people could relate to and understand. That's why I was completely amazed after reading this single passage. It said everything I've ever thought about perfection, only better.

It read:

"How
do you define a word without
concrete meaning? To each
his own, the saying goes, so
why
push to attain an ideal
state of being that no two
random people will agree is
where
you want to be? Faultless.
Finished. Incomparable. People
can never be these, and anyway,
when
did creating a flawless facade
become a more vital goal
than learning to love the person
who
lives inside your skin?
The outside belongs to others.
Only you should decide for you -
what
is perfect."

Ironically enough, that excerpt perfected my entire, life-long thought process on perfection. Figures.

So, About Those Delusions...

It's going to seem like all I talk about is the concepts of delusions and being deluded but reality is something that I constantly question. Reality and happiness. Happiness and reality. Are they the same thing? Are they not? Could they ever be? If you force yourself to be happy will it be the reality or will you just be deluding yourself?

Anyone who knows someone who is depressed or just a negative person has heard them get spoon fed the advice to "stay/think/be positive". Anyone who is generally sad or apathetic has been given that advice until they were about ready to ball it all up and throw it out a fucking window - this I know. But what if you follow their guidance and actually strive to be positive. Will you ever really BE positive? Will the positive mental attitude itself be enough to transform your whole personality. Will your outlook on life suddenly be brighter or will you just be faking your way through life? Will your entire outward persona be a lie?

I've been fighting so hard to be a "happy person". I'm doing it for my friends, I'm doing it for my boyfriend, and I'm doing it for me. It's just so hard. I feel like I'm on my way to convincing myself but at the same time I feel as though I'm betraying who I am. Whether the real me is enthusiastic and positive or somber and despairing I want to be true to that person. I can't stand fake people. I strongly believe that people should be proud of who they are and project their true colors. Am I lying when I fight to be happy even though I know I'm not?

Living in a State of Delusion

What happens when you lie to yourself so repeatedly that you actually start to believe it? What exactly switches in someone's brain to take them from complete clarity to delusion? Is it an involuntary defense mechanism that's triggered when someone can't take the strain of responsibility? Or is it completely voluntary - a learned skill to save one from hating themselves?

I have told lies, but who hasn't? They're usually small, the sort of lies you tell as to not hurt someone's feelings. You wouldn't tell someone you loved they looked hideous even if they did. That is unless maybe you were going out and you didn't want them to be embarrassed or something. Just white lies like those fill everyone's day. It doesn't make you a pathological liar. So what does? Would believing your own lies make you a diagnosed pathological liar or would that just make you mentally unwell?

There have been times I've lied or made excuses for myself about various things in life more than once. On top of that, a few of those times, I've told myself and others the same lie so many times that I don't remember what the truth was in the first place. If that wasn't sick enough, it made me feel so much better believing that I had, in fact, done no wrong (when in the definite reality I had). So do other people do this or should I be concerned?

Would this make me a good liar or would this make me gullible? Could I be both at the same time? I feel like a walking contradiction; one big, fat, living, breathing oxymoron. Given, I haven't lied to that extent all this year. Last year might have been another story but, when it comes to last year, my mind has been diligently working away, sorting what to keep and what to toss out like yesterday's news. However, the lies I've told in the past, the ones I've accepted as true, remain in a dream-like state whenever they cross my mind. By living the truth and then forcing myself to believe a lie it almost seems as if the whole event was fabricated; as if I might have dreamt it or experienced it in another life.

I feel as though my thoughts are odd and unorthodox, like there aren't many people out there who would formulate these types of inquiries on their own. They might be interested and begin to ponder after someone ignites their thought process for them (i.e. reading my own questions), but I don't know if they'd ask these questions all on their own. I feel as though my philosophical side is quite a bit outside of the perimeter of the metaphorical "box". Then again, I often feel like I ask too many questions all together.

I'll be asking questions like these all my life. I can't seem to turn that part of my brain off, so I suppose it's destined to remain on until nature and the aging process turn it off for me.

To: Mrs. Lee

It's crucial when growing up to have someone you feel comfortable speaking to, whether it's for advice or just an intellectual conversation. Personally, I have different people I go to for various topics of conversation. I go to my mom for help with boys (generally) among other things, I go to my dad when I need a pick-me-up, and I go to my friends when I'm sad. Today, I found that I have a new person to go to. Someone who can relate to me on a personal level and who appreciates what I think and feel on a day to day basis. She not only acknowledges my thoughts and feelings but my intelligence and way of expression.

I know there is a very good chance she will read this but that is far from why I chose to write it. Her appreciation of what I do and what I go through inspires me further. Just by telling me she takes time out of her day to read what I have to say she fuels me to write more.

I write this blog because most of the time my thoughts sound exactly the way I spill them out on here. Virtually everything I think would come out far too stuck up, not to mention inappropriate, for everyday conversation. These words I convey to the world via Blogger wouldn't even fit appropriately into an intellectual conversation with someone my age. I sometimes feel as though I have no one to talk to about my innermost thoughts merely because they would sound bogus coming out of my mouth. They sound so much more appropriate written somewhere than said aloud. I was afraid that this would be the only way I'd ever have to say what I literally have physical urges to communicate. It took really getting to know my English teacher on a personal level to realize I could converse with a live person the way I do with anonymous online readers.

I'm sure it's no coincidence that the teacher I relate to most is, in fact, an English teacher, but it's just such a relief to know that there are people with logic similar to my own. I feel great relief in knowing there are other people who ponder open-ended questions and try to decode life's mysteries or even their own mysteries on their own time. It's surprising that at eighteen years old I am just first meeting someone who is like me in that way, but at least I can say I know one.

Mrs. Lee, if you do read this I wanted to say thank you for the thousandth time. I know I say thank you often, but I don't consider it repeating myself. Every time I say it, it's for something new that I've realized you've done for me or made me realize. Thank you for treating me like a person and not a student. Thank you for taking class time to talk to me about the blog I wrote the night before and your take on it. Thank you for encouraging me to write more, because it truly is what I love to do. I have many things I'd love to know your thoughts on and I love to hear your stories, so I very much hope I can stay in touch with you after I graduate. If it's only through my blog, so be it. You are an amazing teacher and an amazing human being.

Thank you.

"Nothing That is So is So"

This was one part of an English assignment I am in the middle of working on. For our English final we were asked to write a few papers, each one on a different quote from any of the books, plays, or poems we read this year. This is my second paper and one of my favorite quotes.

Anyone who knows the tale of Shakespeare's “Twelfth Night” knows that it is one of great deception and disguises. Everyone has their secrets and some go to unbelievable lengths to hide them. Upon his arrival to Illyria, Viola's brother, Sebastian, encounters the town jester, Feste. Feste rambles to Sebastian in his riddles and rhymes but offers one genuine warning in the end. He cautions, “Nothing that is so is so” (IV. ii. 9). While extremely vague and somewhat confusing, it is also intensely accurate. Within the play, as in life, nothing is as it seems. The man everyone already believes to be Sebastian is in fact Viola, Viola is secretly in love with Orsino, and the wisest man in town is labeled a fool. It is ironic indeed that the advice given by a “fool” could be so immensely insightful.

It is engraved in toddlers and young children everyday not to “judge a book by its cover”, because not everyone is as they appear. Likewise, all young adults are advised to be cautious, as to keep from getting scammed or ripped off. All of these types of warning are telling people to beware, for “nothing that is so is so.” For example, the way someone dresses does not automatically determine their inner beauty, or lack thereof. Furthermore, what seems to be a lovely, perfect family on the outside is more than likely to have cracks in its foundation. Everyone has things they hide behind their eyes. That's exactly why nobody should judge another based on their exterior; things are almost never the same from the outside looking in.

Though I may seem easy to read, there's something that tells me that no one could guess what my life is like just by looking at me. I'm surrounded by people everyday that assume I wouldn't have a care in the world. I'm sure there are those who come across my somewhat disturbing posts online and just assume I'm exaggerating a broken nail or an idiotic argument with a friend or boyfriend. That's how most people judge, without taking the other person's private life into consideration. I for one project very little of my inner self to those around me. When I go out I'm always with someone, usually smiling. It's that person that everyone else assumes I am inside and out. Would they guess my family was torn apart? Would they guess what my parents are like behind closed doors? I highly doubt they'd even take a second to consider it a possibility.

People talk trash all the time and never think twice about what their subject of abuse is going through from day to day. When I was younger I would get ostracized for what a wore and how different I was. The children who teased didn't know any better but the teachers weren't any help. Teacher's would complain to my parents about my lack of participation and once a teacher humiliated me in the fourth grade by making me a megaphone out of construction paper and ordering me to use it when I spoke. Did they consider what I dealt with outside of school? Did they take into account that maybe I was used to being quiet because of all the things I was told to keep a secret at home? No, I'm guessing they didn't. I was a little girl being thrown around in a custody battle who decided to dress differently and play make believe at school to escape. I got made fun of for it because everyone just assumed I was on the inside how I was acting on the outside: like a weird, outcast little kid. As I got older I was judged some more from how I would act with my friends. I would hug and jump on my friends whether they were guys or girls. I got called rude names for giving so much attention to my guy friends. None of the heartless kids at school considered it might be because I felt a desperate need for affection. No one thinks before they act. Nothing that is so is so.

No child and no adult should be treated with disregard for their feelings and personal lives. I am a blonde cheerleader and often get degraded for being a “dumb blonde” or the stereotypical cheerleader with nothing to show but a short skirt. However, I'm also going to be studying to become a journalist. This “promiscuous, dumb cheerleader” has a passion for writing and a passion for photography. I have skills and knowledge and unbearable memories. I have a past many people feel sorry for and I sometimes find myself feeling sorry as well, but that doesn't stop me. I cannot be defined by a stereotype because I am an individual and everything inside of me is genuine. It is no wonder we're taught to never judge a book by its cover. Books hold thousands upon thousands of words that could never be summed up in the small spaces it takes to bind them. People are no different.