Tag Archives: heart

Dancing

Emotions suck.

Like, I spend ninety percent of my time thinking about them when I should be thinking about other things.

Oh snap, I thought about the emotions so much that I forgot I left my ukulele in the trunk of my Mom’s car…

Anyway, if I keep thinking about these emotions I’m probably going to wind up crying, so maybe I should write them out of my system.

I’d write them out of system and into a text to compose and send to the male who is inspiring me to have all these emotions, but that would probably just result in more emotions, and there are too many of them already.

Here’s what I have to say: for the past five months I’ve been friends with a guy who I spend time with off and on, and I’ve started composing many posts on him and related to him and then stopped, because I don’t want to obsess, and I’m paranoid that somehow too many details will find themselves in the sea of the internet leading back to him.

I like to play it relatively, obsessively, safe.

Recently, however, this friendship became even more confusing.

Like, we keep almost going on dates/spending time alone together, and while I don’t mind the friendship, a couple nights ago we went out dancing with a female friend of mine.

And he and I danced, and it was fun, and then at some point there was some super romantic-partner up and dance for real music playing, which I didn’t recognize, and he pulled me into his arms and we danced like one of the forty super romantic couples surrounding us.

And it confused me.

I am confused.

I am so incredibly confused.

And I want to ask him what was up with that but when the first dance ended he gestured to another couple who was still dancing in the super romantic way, and indicated he was merely imitating them, and I let it drop as some sort of anomaly of dance, of our friendship. He merely pulled me into his arms so romantically because he was dancing, and it’s what all the couples were doing.

Time passed, we danced other friend-like dances, we danced in other rooms, we danced with other people, and at some point we found ourselves back in the room of couples dancing ridiculously close together, and he pulled me into another dance.

And later, when guys asked me to dance and whether he was my boyfriend or I was his girlfriend, he said “no, she’s single” and sent me off to dance with the strangers.

I’m a little bit hurt…I probably shouldn’t be, I definitely shouldn’t be, we’re friends and we danced, but I’ve never danced that close to a guy before, to anyone, and now I can’t stop thinking about him and I hate him a little bit for it, and I don’t even think he cares.

I don’t even know if I want him to care in that way.

I just wish he would’ve warned me before he pulled me into that dance.

I’m all obsessed and it’s because of a stupid dance.

And we’re entirely not together, and I don’t know what to say or what not to say, whether to tell him that dancing with girls like that is confusing, and that I’m confused now, or whether to say nothing and just let the pain and emotions sit until they hopefully just go away.

Because we danced, and then I saw him once more after that and he gave me and my friend a totally innocent hug, and he hasn’t contacted me since. But he rarely contacts me.

SO I NEED TO FORGET ABOUT HIM.

But I also want to just yell at him for making me like him.

Like a teenager. Do teenagers even do that? I feel like I’m as lost as I would be if I was a teenager going out with some other random teenager.

I thought people were mature when you grew up and just let you know that they liked you.

I thought they had courage to tell you how they were really feeling.

I thought they had the strength to not pull you into dances that will misdirect your feelings and imply that they feel more than they do.

I thought they had the courtesy to let you know that they were falling and that by going out dancing with them you are pretty much going on a date with them and basically, flippin’ tell the girl you like her rather than inviting her out, dancing with her like you like her, telling other guys she’s free to dance, and then looking sad when you let her go.

Did I mention he looked sad? It was the one small bit of information my friend provided for me, for when she and him were sitting alone talking and I was dancing with the stranger my guy friend told me to dance with.

…There is so much here that I shouldn’t be evaluating, because life shouldn’t be so focused on romance, should it? Like, I have school, I have friends, I have health problems, I have friends with health problems, I have God, and pushing its way past all these important things is my stupid little heart going “DOES HE LIKE ME? DOES HE LIKE ME???” and “WHAT DOES IT MEAN!???” and “I AM SO ALONE.”

It freakin’ sucks and it makes no sense and I’m blaming biology and wanting to curse it, because I don’t even know if he cares, and if he cares then he’s doing a crummy job of showing it, and if does such a bad job caring then I shouldn’t care about him.

So my logical mind and my close friends tell me to forget him and move on, and that stupid heart supported by emotions and hormones is just keeps beating me up about it, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

Because I’ve never been good at making my Heart stop yelling at me, until I get distracted by some new crush…but I’m tired of being distracted by crushes. The endless barrage on my emotions hurts too much.

I probably have too much free time. If I fill up every second of time with activity then there’s no time to dwell on love…

Gah.

 

Pray for me.

Thanks.

 

 

 

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Imaginary Scenes in my life.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just dreaming that we’re in  love, and waking up and wishing it were true until I realize that there’s nothing to base that love on and in reality it’s hard for us to say more than a couple dozen words to each other.”

“Interesting.”

————–

“How’s it going?”

“Alright. Except that I’m growing more and more dependent on our friendship and I think you just kind of tolerate me, and talking to you makes me feel better about every aspect of my life and so sometimes I feel like I NEED to talk to you and I’m starting to fall in love but I can’t because we’re just friends and while you’re amazing to talk to, I don’t think we agree enough on anything important to ever be more.”

“I see.”

—–

“How’s life?”

“It’s a confusing mixture of figuring out my future and figuring out my friendships, and trying to enjoy things just the way they are and not reaching for more, but then growing lonely and discontent and letting my mind race through a million scenarios like a puppy without a leash, and trying to stop that puppy from getting hit by a car.”

“Okay.”

——

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Beautifully Rejected.

The most beautiful thing

I saw today

was a baby’s laugh,

God in my presence,

and your eyes, ever smiling, staring at me with a look that brought back images of that child and God’s glory all in one.

The beauty of my heart is that it is so easily touched by love.

The tragedy of my heart is that it is so easily touched by love.

Three months ago I wouldn’t have cared. Three months ago, I lie. When did you see me and ask me how I was, look into my eyes and notice the pain I wouldn’t share, and try to soothe my soul?

Why didn’t I let you?

Because I can’t let people in.

I can’t share the pain and the heart, because then I want you to be a greater part of this life, and you don’t want to be.

I could have done it, could have let whatever was broken be shared, and potentially repaired by your craftsman hands, and slowly fallen deeper into admiration of you, but I would have gotten stuck.

Stuck in the love and wanting to be love and be a part of something, while you were just being kind.

So I share too much with strangers, but not enough, and then when friends come by I let the heart remain untouched.

True, is this true? How much is true…

I attempt to guard my heart from the inevitable fall, and I lose myself in the process.

Shutting myself off to the love, I curl up and cry.

Giving too much of myself and being rejected, I feel like I want the feeling heart to die.

So I lose and I lose, and I don’t know if I’ll win,

or if I’ll just fall and break my own heart again.

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A poem: Guard her heart.

You stole my heart, and I didn’t even realize it was missing until I saw you with her.

Then suddenly that heart was being shot straight through, more than pieces two.

Is there anyone who,

Can put it back together?

In a perfect world, you would have never got near it.

In a perfect world, you couldn’t just sear it

with your words and your being and your look and me seeing

how much I want to be with you and be like you, and be made new

by growing into love with you.

You stole my heart, I glanced back and suddenly it was gone

like the lyrics of a song,

something forgotten, on the tip of the tongue, that just won’t come.

You stole my heart, and I wish you wouldn’t pawn it, with all the love that’s on it,

I wish you’d keep it for yourself, to guard and keep in health,

to hold and love and cherish, but to you I think it’s garish.

Too much beat and shine, “I don’t want this to be mine”,

you’ll think upon the time, when the chance comes to let it go.

Let it go, let me go, or break the pieces that are left, from your unexpected theft, and me seeing you with her.

I hope you guard her heart.

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Love, love, love

It seems that loving someone and letting someone know you love them are not always the same thing. Sometimes letting someone know you care is a big part of a relationship, telling them and showing them you love them, and sometimes love is more obviously stated in what you don’t do. Sometimes the most loving thing is to say nothing at all, and let someone go, giving them the space they need to grow, move on with their lives, and continue to learn how to love.

Someone asked me the other day how to love people, how to live your life in a loving way, doing your best and giving the most to everyone you encounter in your life. I responded that basically, we go through our lives interacting with people in a myriad of settings and ways, and creating a guidebook for how to love people in every specific situation is not possible… and I made attempts to explain how I loved in my life with explanations of daily interactions and such.

I think it was said best however, by St. Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 13 verse 4-8:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, [love] is not pompous, it is not inflated,it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.”

If I had recalled this exact quote at the time I was speaking to my friend, it probably would have been helpful. These words are certainly more rich than my lines about meeting people on the street and being pleasant, or making time to play with my niece, unknowingly using personal experiences to try to explain what scripture had already covered. Playing with a four year old requires patience and kindness, seeing their delight in simple things like throwing a frisbee back and forth, and patiently teaching them the proper throwing methods (to the best of your poor abilities), these things require love. Simply stating that playing with your niece is love, gives people a relatable reference, but the scripture really explains the why.

At any rate, my explanation seemed to help my friend, and provided me with some good reflection on my life as of late, and I think it is eventually what spurred me to write this post. The beautiful, complicated, and yet somehow simple process of just being the best you can be at every moment, and living a life more for others than yourself…Which is really ultimately living for yourself because living to love is the best reason to live.

-cdukulele

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My night

Went to Open Mic.

Saw my crush with another girl.

Failed halfway through a new song.

Could barely hear myself over the alcohol-consuming-people while I was on stage.

Got home.

Ate fast food.

Watched youtube videos for an hour and a half.

My life…

Now I need to do my stretches and shower and go to sleep before anyone notices I’m staying up really late wasting time.

On the plus side, I made cookies earlier today and I have crushes on so many people that I’m sure this latest heartache will be gone soon….just in time for someone else to start torturing me with their unattainable beauty and charm.

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When to cry, when to keep going, and when to give up…

I read for two hours.

Some of it was interesting. I didn’t know that there was a different word for the kinds of sounds you made when closing your mouth completely, versus when letting air escape through between your teeth, versus using your vocal chords or not. I also didn’t know that apparently anything that is understandable is “grammatical”. “Grammatical” being an idiotic word that refuses to claim whether a sentence is right or wrong, and merely allows it to be “standard” or “non-standard”.

I….cried.

I cried.

I CRIED BECAUSE OF GRAMMAR.

Because of Linguistics.

Because of writing about the “niche of a Research Proposal”, and because I’m incapable and pathetic and don’t comprehend or even want to comprehend the stuff in the books I spent 200 dollars on.

Because the English language is killing me, and I’ve only been to each of my classes once.

 

Was that unclear? Am I being unclear? It’s ungrammatical to be unclear…well, technically, it’s not…but it’s something.

 

I don’t know.

I don’t know if I even want to do this.

I don’t know if I don’t want to do this because I’m afraid of work, or because I legitimately don’t care about this stuff, or whether I will ever care.

I like words.

I like reading things.

I do not like THE REASON WHY. I don’t really care about the reason why. I don’t want to learn the reason why. I don’t want to teach the reason why. I just want to communicate effectively, and so far, all I’ve learned is that I can communicate less effectively if I want to and still be “grammatical”.

 

…It’s day three, and I want to quit gradschool.

I don’t know if I simply was smarter before surgery, or if I simply have more of a capacity to hate boring, meaningless, pointless, miserable work, because I see how much suffering there is in life already and I don’t want to add to it, but I want to quit.

No offense, linguists.

I’m just…not…that….

Which means…I don’t know what I am.

Maybe I can be a linguist.

Maybe I can keep studying. It’s only day three. You can’t give up on day three, right? Even when you hate your classes and you don’t understand your textbooks or your homework assignments, and the idea of learning all of this stuff is …partially abhorrent?

Even if the only reason you like school is because you’re so ridiculously alone that you enjoy the opportunity to just be a part of something in real life….

 

 

I cried. I tried. I want to give up.

There’s nobody to tell me whether or not I can give up.

I’m an adult and I have to decide whether or not I’m going to ruin my life, or save it…and I don’t know which choice does which.

…To you, reader, it might seem strange that I’m putting so much importance on Grad school. Or does it? I don’t know…All I know is that I’ve spent a year at home trying and failing to do anything at all, and this was another try, and sure, I haven’t failed yet, but I already hate it. I don’t want to hate everything I do. It makes life seem so miserable. …And I have to find something to be successful at…and so I have to know whether I have to keep trying this or move on to another completely unknown path.

Sorry for the whine, I just, I’m lost again, and trying to figure it out.

 

– Catherine

 

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