the infection of love.

Hi there, good people of the blogging universe. :) I'm coming to you at 11:37pm on a Wednesday night. A school night. But I'm not rebelling, I promise, and I'm going to hop back on the sleeping-bandwagon tomorrow night, but earlier tonight I had literally a little over a cup of diet coke at a restaurant and now… so much energy. Can't sleep. But it's the story of my life, and I'm not going to dwell on it. I'll simply use this leftover energy to do something productive. Such as explore a poem by Anne Sexton.


Wanting to Die, a poem by Anne Sexton, was written to explain why poets, people, anyone like herself (and her friend Sylvia Plath) would want to kill themselves. Keep in mind, this isn't my opinion, nor is it any general truth, just her opinion, I suppose. You can read it here if you want, I don't wanna poem overload, but I just wanted to kind of… dwell on the last line. "and the love, whatever it was, an infection." Just that idea, of love being an infection, is just so beautiful, in a heartwrenching way. Love, it can spread and it can hurt and it can take you down. It's infectious.


My friend pointed out this line after we saw Inception today and there was the line about an idea being a parasite, the most resilient of them. Because we're, uh, nerdy, I whipped out the poem book we've been looking at lately (it's her's) and read that poem and that line just… I don't know. I had just come out of the movie about an hour ago, but it just struck a nerve. I wasn't emotional or anything, not really at that part of the conversation, but the idea of these things, that seem innocent enough, taking over your mind and your body and everything… it's fascinating.


To lighten the mood a little bit, I'll talk about myself a little bit. I'm not sure what's been going on with me lately, to be honest, I've been reliving the past a lot, and spending every free moment (which, alas, are few) either watching Parenthood (I am newly obsessed with this show. guys, you have to watch it. please) or reading old conversations/poems/journal entries/notes, anything from 8th grade. I feel like I just need to figure out that person I was then. Why I did the things I did and what I thought and when things fell apart and how I put them back together and… it's crazy. The lines between 8th grade and the present are starting to blur when characters from then and now collide. It's super weird.


Wow… that didn't really lighten the mood, did it? Oh well. I hope this entry didn't sound bleak, that wasn't my intention at all. In fact, I've been good lately. A warm, familiar sort of happiness. Not a crap-is-this-gonna-get-yanked-away kind of happiness but one that feels secure. I don't know. I like it. How are YOU guys?

happiness equates with gardening.

I think he chased the happiness out of me. I think he chased it out and it fled and now it's hiding somewhere and it's up to me to find it again. I don't want to find it again! I just found what I believed to be this special kind of confidence-induced happiness. It was everything, the new clothes and the closeness with my best friend and the games and the hard work of being individually motivated and it was him, him, him, but it wasn't, and it was, but it was me too, and now it's gone. It's like I finally opened up to someone and I gave it to him and I unrealistically expected him to water it like a figurative tomato plant and then he never did and it died and the seeds floated away and planted themselves somewhere else. And I have to find them or I have to grow new ones, and it took so long to grow those damn figurative happiness seeds and I don't want to do it all over again.

It's a good day and then it's a bad day for Team Dig. It started off with a headache, but then I got over it and I bonded and felt incredibly close to my dad and replaced my lost temps for driving and now I can drive and I ate at my favorite restaurant and tonight I get to see my family, my favorite uncles who I haven't seen in ages, since Christmastime, and there are a lot of things to be excited and happy and positive about but… Leave me alone in a new, crowded place with headphones full of music and a book full of sorrow and a head full of thoughts, and things start to happen. My eyes start to slip from the book and look deeper into my own mind and I have all of these introspective thoughts, and they're really lovely for that good deep dark writing I've loved since 8th grade (ha! dudes! remind me to share some of my 8th grade poetry sometime ;)) but at the same time, it really bums me out and my eyelids start to feel heavy and I know they're looking dull to the passersby and my legs get twitchy and cold and I realize things I wish I wouldn't and I start to understand things I wish I couldn't and it's just more than slightly uncool.

It's many many hours (maybe 24) later now, and I just read back what I wrote and jeez… that was really sad. I was really sad. I mean, just reading about the fact that I felt that someone had chased my happiness away really just… ugh. That's terrible. I don't feel that way right now, that my happiness plant or whatever the crap that is has blown away or what have you, but that's probably just because today is a really good day. I went to bed early last night (midnight, considered early, ahhh, school is gonna suck) and this morning I woke up around 11 and made lunch and watched tv and worked on my mini wall project some more and tonight I get to go to this fest with my friend and sleep over at her house. Getting out and moving on, that's what I'm doing.

I didn't really have any funny text conversations yesterday, I was pretty busy, but I did have a very cute text conversation! My friend got a new guinea pig and I get to meet him in about a week and a half and when I asked if the new pig was a boy or a girl he said, "A young boy named Pepper." Cutest sentence ever. I love how he talks. I am so excited to meet his new pig. Eek!

Bye for now, amigos!

melancholy around the edges.

I just got off of the phone with my best friend in the whole world, Nora. N-Dawg. She moved away in March and I miss her a lot. A lot a lot a lot, like something is sort of missing from the inside of me. But when we talk on the phone, we talk on the phone for hours, and when I hang up I feel for half a second that everything is falling apart and that the world is too quiet but then that feeling goes away and I feel like everything is wonderful and beautiful and that I'm incredibly blessed. So I'm in a great mood because of that, all smiley and dancey to Glee music.

I wasn't feeling so happy earlier, and actually blogged a little bit. It's kind of scrambled and has no real point, so I don't think I'll paste it onto this new entry. Basically I was just feeling melancholy. Which is a bit how I feel all of the time these days. Ugh. Combine that last bit with the entry from yesterday (today, 2am, really) and it makes me look like I'm… really sad. In life. Like I'm really sad in life. Which I guess isn't true. I'm a fairly happy person. I have my best friends, the ones with which I play poker and giggle and eat guacamole and the ones with which I talk to on Skype and text silly things to. I have my iPod and my deck of cards that I continually am shuffling and gut-busting tv shows to watch. And I have that strange ability, as illustrated yesterday, to find beauty in the ugliest things. And thus, I am happy.

But I think… I think my heart is broken. A little bit. That phrase is impossibly corny and cliché and all of that, but I mean, a phrase is a phrase because it often makes sense. And I think it does. I don't think my heart is broken in that whole all-consuming, shattered pieces everywhere, crying, unbearable pain sort of broken. Thankfully. Just a little bit cracked on the sides, enough for a decent amount of melancholy to seep in. And it just stays there with me, every second of every day. I can still function and I can still smile and I can still have a really good poker face but I'm just… I'm a little bit melancholy around the edges.

Maybe someday I'll go into what happened a little less vaguely, but for now I'm content to live for the moments when the happiness completely envelopes and disguises the melancholy for just a few moments. The moments where I win the jackpot in iPod slots or that first sip of Diet Coke or the satisfaction of finishing my required reading for the day early or even eating a banana. Cuz I mean, when it comes down to it, it really is all of the little things that make you happy, right?